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diff --git a/824-h/824-h.htm b/824-h/824-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..8c2324e --- /dev/null +++ b/824-h/824-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,10921 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=US-ASCII" /> +<title>Speeches of Charles Dickens, by Charles Dickens</title> + <style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- + P { margin-top: .75em; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + P.gutsumm { margin-left: 5%;} + P.poetry {margin-left: 3%; } + .GutSmall { font-size: 0.7em; } + H1, H2 { + text-align: center; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + } + H3, H4, H5 { + text-align: center; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; + } + BODY{margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + } + table { border-collapse: collapse; } +table {margin-left:auto; margin-right:auto;} + td { vertical-align: top; border: 1px solid black;} + td p { margin: 0.2em; } + .blkquot {margin-left: 4em; margin-right: 4em;} /* block indent */ + + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + + .pagenum {position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: small; + text-align: right; + font-weight: normal; + color: gray; + } + img { border: none; } + img.dc { float: left; width: 50px; height: 50px; } + p.gutindent { margin-left: 2em; } + div.gapspace { height: 0.8em; } + div.gapline { height: 0.8em; width: 100%; border-top: 1px solid;} + div.gapmediumline { height: 0.3em; width: 40%; margin-left:30%; + border-top: 1px solid; } + div.gapmediumdoubleline { height: 0.3em; width: 40%; margin-left:30%; + border-top: 1px solid; border-bottom: 1px solid;} + div.gapshortdoubleline { height: 0.3em; width: 20%; + margin-left: 40%; border-top: 1px solid; + border-bottom: 1px solid; } + div.gapdoubleline { height: 0.3em; width: 50%; + margin-left: 25%; border-top: 1px solid; + border-bottom: 1px solid;} + div.gapshortline { height: 0.3em; width: 20%; margin-left:40%; + border-top: 1px solid; } + .citation {vertical-align: super; + font-size: .8em; + text-decoration: none;} + img.floatleft { float: left; + margin-right: 1em; + margin-top: 0.5em; margin-bottom: 0.5em; } + img.floatright { float: right; + margin-left: 1em; margin-top: 0.5em; + margin-bottom: 0.5em; } + img.clearcenter {display: block; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; margin-top: 0.5em; + margin-bottom: 0.5em} + --> + /* XML end ]]>*/ + </style> +</head> +<body> +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg eBook, Speeches of Charles Dickens, by Charles +Dickens + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most +other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions +whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of +the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at +www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have +to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. + + + + +Title: Speeches of Charles Dickens + Literary and Social + + +Author: Charles Dickens + + + +Release Date: December 18, 2014 [eBook #824] +[This file was first posted on March 1, 1997] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SPEECHES OF CHARLES DICKENS*** +</pre> +<p>Transcribed from the 1880 Chatto and Windus edition by David +Price, email ccx074@pglaf.org</p> +<p style="text-align: center"> +<a href="images/coverb.jpg"> +<img alt= +"Book cover" +title= +"Book cover" + src="images/covers.jpg" /> +</a></p> +<h2>SPEECHES<br /> +<span class="GutSmall"><i>LITERARY AND SOCIAL</i></span></h2> +<p style="text-align: center"><span class="GutSmall">BY</span><br +/> +CHARLES DICKENS</p> +<p style="text-align: center"><span class="GutSmall">WITH +CHAPTERS ON “CHARLES DICKENS AS A LETTER WRITER,</span><br +/> +<span class="GutSmall">POET, AND PUBLIC READER.”</span></p> +<p style="text-align: center"> +<a href="images/tpb.jpg"> +<img alt= +"Drawing of Charles Dickens" +title= +"Drawing of Charles Dickens" + src="images/tps.jpg" /> +</a></p> +<p style="text-align: center"><i>A NEW EDITION</i></p> +<p style="text-align: center"><span +class="GutSmall"><b>London</b></span><br /> +CHATTO AND WINDUS, PICCADILLY<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">1880</span></p> +<h2><a name="page5"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +5</span>INTRODUCTION.</h2> +<p><span class="smcap">Charles Dickens</span> was born at +Landport, Portsmouth, on February 7, 1812. At that time his +father, Mr. John Dickens, held an office in the Navy Pay +Department, the duties of which obliged him to reside alternately +at the principal naval stations of England. But on the +conclusion of peace in 1815 a considerable reduction was made by +Government in this branch of the public service. Mr. John +Dickens, among others, was pensioned off, and he removed to +London with his wife and children, when his son Charles was +hardly four years of age.</p> +<p>No doubt the varied bustling scenes of life witnessed by +Charles Dickens in his early years, had an influence on his mind +that gave him a taste for observing the manners and mental +peculiarities of different classes of people engaged in the +active pursuits of life, and <a name="page6"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 6</span>quickened a naturally lively +perception of the ridiculous, for which he was distinguished even +in boyhood.</p> +<p>It is curious to observe how similar opportunities of becoming +acquainted practically with life, and the busy actors on its +varied scenes, in very early life, appear to influence the minds +of thinking and imaginative men in after-years. +Goldsmith’s pedestrian excursions on the Continent, +Bulwer’s youthful rambles on foot in England, and +equestrian expeditions in France, and Maclise’s extensive +walks in boyhood over his native county, and the mountains and +valleys of Wicklow a little later, were fraught with similar +results.</p> +<p>Charles Dickens was intended by his father to be an +attorney. Nature and Mr. John Dickens happily differed on +that point. London law may have sustained little injury in +losing Dickens for “a limb.” English literature +would have met with an irreparable loss, had she been deprived of +him whom she delights to own as a favourite son.</p> +<p>Dickens, having decided against the law, began his career in +“the gallery,” as a reporter on <i>The True Sun</i>; +and from the first made himself distinguished and distinguishable +among “the corps,” for his ability, promptness, and +punctuality.</p> +<p>Remaining for a short term on the staff of this periodical, he +seceded to <i>The Mirror of Parliament</i>, which was started +with the express object of furnishing <i>verbatim</i> reports of +the debates. It only lived, however, for two sessions.</p> +<p>The influence of his father, who on settling in the <a +name="page7"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 7</span>metropolis, had +become connected with the London press, procured for Charles +Dickens an appointment as short-hand reporter on the <i>Morning +Chronicle</i>. To this period of his life he has made some +graceful and interesting allusions in a speech delivered at the +Second Anniversary of the Newspaper Press Fund, about five years +ago.</p> +<p>It was in <i>The Monthly Magazine</i> of January, 1834, before +he had quite attained his twenty-second year, that Charles +Dickens made his first appearance in print as a story-teller. <a +name="citation7"></a><a href="#footnote7" +class="citation">[7]</a> Neither the editor of the +magazine, nor the readers, nor even the ardent and gratified +young author himself (who has described in the preface to the +“Pickwick Papers” his sensations on finding his +little contribution accepted), then dreamt that he would become +in five short years from that time one of the most popular and +widely-read of English authors, that his name would shortly +become familiar as a household word, and that his praise would be +on every tongue on both sides of the Atlantic.</p> +<p>Encouraged by his success, Charles Dickens continued to send +sketches in the same vein, and for the next twelve months was a +tolerably constant contributor <a name="page8"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 8</span>to the <i>Magazine</i>. All, or +nearly all, of these little papers were reprinted in the +collection of <i>Sketches by Boz</i>; but as it will perhaps be +interesting to some of our readers to trace their original +appearance in the magazine, we give a list of them +here:—</p> +<table> +<tr> +<td><p>February, 1834,</p> +</td> +<td><p>Horatio Sparkins.</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p> </p> +</td> +<td><p>Marriage a-la-Mode.</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>April „</p> +</td> +<td><p>The Bloomsbury Christening.</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>May „</p> +</td> +<td><p>The Boarding-House.</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>August „</p> +</td> +<td><p><i>Ibid.</i> (No II.) <a name="citation8a"></a><a +href="#footnote8a" class="citation">[8a]</a></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>September „</p> +</td> +<td><p>The Goings-on at Bramsby Hall.</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>October „</p> +</td> +<td><p>The Steam Excursion.</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>January, 1835.</p> +</td> +<td><p>Passage in the Life of Mr. Watkins Tottle.</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td><p>February „</p> +</td> +<td><p><i>Ib.</i> Chapter Second.</p> +</td> +</tr> +</table> +<p>A similar series was afterwards contributed to the evening +edition of <i>The Morning Chronicle</i>, <a +name="citation8b"></a><a href="#footnote8b" +class="citation">[8b]</a> then edited by Mr. John Black, and on +which Dickens was engaged as parliamentary reporter.</p> +<p>While writing the “Sketches,” a strong inclination +towards the stage induced Mr. Charles Dickens to test his powers +as a dramatist, and his first piece, a farce <a +name="page9"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 9</span>called <i>The +Strange Gentleman</i>, was produced at the St. James’s +Theatre on the opening night of the season, September 29, +1836. The late Mr. Harley was the hero of the farce, which +was received with great favour. This was followed by an +opera, called <i>The Village Coquettes</i>, for which Mr. Hullah +composed the music, and which was brought out at the same +establishment, on Tuesday, December 6, 1836. The quaint +humour, unaffected pathos, and graceful lyrics of this production +found prompt recognition, and the piece enjoyed a prosperous +run. <i>The Village Coquettes</i> took its title from two +village girls, Lucy and Rose, led away by vanity, coquetting with +men above them in station, and discarding their humble, though +worthy lovers. Before, however, it is too late they see +their error, and the piece terminates happily. Miss +Rainforth and Miss Julia Smith were the heroines, and Mr. Bennet +and Mr. Gardner were their betrothed lovers. Braham was the +Lord of the Manor, who would have led astray the fair Lucy. +There was a capital scene, where he was detected by Lucy’s +father, played by Strickland, urging an elopement. Harley +had a trifling part in the piece, rendered highly amusing by his +admirable acting.</p> +<p>On March 6, 1837, was brought out at the St. James’s +Theatre a farce, called <i>Is She His Wife</i>; <i>or</i>, +<i>Something Singular</i>, in which Harley played the principal +character, Felix Tapkins, a flirting bachelor, and sang a song in +the character of Pickwick, “written expressly for him by +Boz.”</p> +<p><a name="page10"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 10</span>Under +the pseudonym of Timothy Sparks Charles Dickens published about +this time a wholesome, wise, and cleverly written little pamphlet +against Sabbatarianism, in which he cogently and forcibly +advocated more liberal views respecting the observance of Sunday +than generally obtain in this country. <a +name="citation10"></a><a href="#footnote10" +class="citation">[10]</a></p> +<p>In March, 1836, appeared the first number of +“Pickwick,” with illustrations by Seymour. It +was continued in monthly shilling numbers until its completion, +and this has been Mr. Dickens’s favourite and usual form of +publication ever since. The success and popularity of the +work—which, in freshness and vigour, he has never surpassed +in his later and maturer writings—were unmistakeable. +Several playwrights dramatised it, with more or less success; and +a swarm of obscure scribblers flooded the town with imitations +and sequels, which, like Avanelleda’s second part of +“Don Quixote,” came mostly to grief, and were quickly +forgotten.</p> +<p>Before the work had reached its third number, the talented +artist who had undertaken the illustrations, and who has +immortalised the features of Mr. Pickwick, was unfortunately +removed by death, and Mr. Hablot Browne (the well-known +<i>Phiz</i>) was chosen to replace him, and continued to +illustrate most of Mr. Dickens’s novels for many years +after. During the <a name="page11"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 11</span>years 1837–1838, Mr. Dickens +carried on the editorship of <i>Bentley’s Miscellany</i>, +where his novel of “Oliver Twist” (illustrated by +George Cruikshank) first appeared. To this magazine, during +the time that he conducted it, he also contributed some humorous +papers, entitled “Full Report of the Meetings of the Mudfog +Association for the Advancement of Everything.” But, +finding his editorial office irksome, he soon abandoned it.</p> +<p>During his engagement with Mr. Bentley, he edited and partly +wrote the “Memoirs of Joseph Grimaldi,” <a +name="citation11"></a><a href="#footnote11" +class="citation">[11]</a> a book now almost forgotten, though not +without passages of pathos and humour. Dickens, in the +introductory chapter (dated February, 1838), gives the following +account of his share in the work:—</p> +<blockquote><p>“For about a year before his death, Grimaldi +was employed in writing a full account of his life and +adventures, and as people who write their own lives often find +time to extend them to a most inordinate length, it is no wonder +that his account of himself was exceedingly voluminous.</p> +<p>“This manuscript was confided to Mr. Thomas Egerton +Wilks, to alter and revise, with a view to its publication. +While he was thus engaged, Grimaldi died; and Mr. Wilks having, +by the commencement of September (1837), concluded his labours, +offered <a name="page12"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +12</span>the manuscript to Mr. Bentley, by whom it was shortly +afterwards purchased.</p> +<p>“The present editor of these volumes has felt it +necessary to say thus much in explanation of their origin. +His own share in them is stated in a few words. Being much +struck by several incidents in the manuscript—such as the +description of Grimaldi’s infancy, the burglary, the +brother’s return from sea, and many other +passages—and thinking that they might be related in a more +attractive manner, he accepted a proposal from the publisher to +edit the book, and <i>has</i> edited it to the best of his +ability, altering its form throughout, and making such other +alterations as he conceived would improve the narration of the +facts, without any departure from the facts +themselves.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>His next work was “Nicholas Nickleby,” published +in monthly numbers. The following passage from the original +preface, which is only to be found in the old editions, alludes +to the great success that attended this story:—</p> +<blockquote><p>“It only now remains for the writer of these +pages, with that feeling of regret with which we leave almost any +pursuit that has for a long time occupied us and engaged our +thoughts, and which is naturally augmented in such a case as +this, when that pursuit has been surrounded by all that could +animate and cheer him on—it only now remains for him, +before abandoning his task, to bid his readers +farewell.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p><a name="page13"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 13</span>This +was followed by “Master Humphrey’s Clock,” the +publication of which, in weekly numbers, with illustrations by +Cattermole and Hablot Browne, was commenced in April, 1840. +“Master Humphrey’s Clock” comprised the two +novels of “The Old Curiosity Shop” and “Barnaby +Rudge,” which are now published in a separate form, +stripped of the introductory portion relating to Master Humphrey, +and of the intercalary chapters in which Mr. Pickwick and the two +Wellers appear again on the scene. It was pleasant to meet +once more these familiar humorous creations, and it may be a +matter for regret that this portion of the book has been +consigned to oblivion. But the author considered that these +passages served only to interrupt the continuity of the main +story, and they were consequently eliminated.</p> +<p>These three characters (the Wellers and Mr. Pickwick) have all +the same raciness and inexhaustible humour in this sequel as in +the work in which we were first introduced to them. As the +original edition of the work we are alluding to is now somewhat +rare, the reader may not be displeased to have a few specimens +laid before him. Here is Mr. Weller senior’s opinion +of railways:—</p> +<blockquote><p>“I con-sider,” said Mr. Weller, +“that the rail is unconstitootional and an inwaser o’ +priwileges, and I should wery much like to know what that +’ere old Carter as once stood up for our liberties and wun +’em too—I should like to know wot he vould say if he +wos alive now, to Englishmen being locked up with <a +name="page14"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 14</span>widders, or +with anybody, again their wills. Wot a old Carter would +have said, a old Coachman may say, and I as-sert that in that +pint o’ view alone, the rail is an inwaser. As to the +comfort, vere’s the comfort o’ sittin’ in a +harm cheer lookin’ at brick walls or heaps o’ mud, +never comin’ to a public house, never seein’ a glass +o’ ale, never goin’ through a pike, never +meetin’ a change o’ no kind (horses or othervise), +but alvays comin’ to a place, ven you come to one at all, +the wery picter o’ the last, vith the same p’leesemen +standing about, the same blessed old bell a ringin’, the +same unfort’nate people standing behind the bars, a +waitin’ to be let in; and everythin’ the same except +the name, vich is wrote up in the same sized letters as the last +name and vith the same colors. As to the <i>h</i>onour and +dignity o’ travelling vere can that be vithout a coachman; +and wot’s the rail to sich coachmen and guards as is +sometimes forced to go by it, but a outrage and a insult? +As to the pace, wot sort o’ pace do you think I, Tony +Veller, could have kept a coach goin’ at, for five hundred +thousand pound a mile, paid in adwance afore the coach was on the +road? And as to the ingein—a nasty wheezin’, +creaking, gasping, puffin, bustin’ monster, alvays out +o’ breath, vith a shiny green and gold back, like a +unpleasant beetle in that ’ere gas magnifier—as to +the ingein as is alvays a pourin’ out red hot coals at +night, and black smoke in the day, the sensiblest thing it does +in my opinion, is, ven there’s somethin’ in the vay +and it sets up that ’ere frightful scream <a +name="page15"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 15</span>vich seems to +say, ‘Now here’s two hundred and forty passengers in +the wery greatest extremity o’ danger, and here’s +their two hundred and forty screams in vun!’” <a +name="citation15"></a><a href="#footnote15" +class="citation">[15]</a></p> +</blockquote> +<p>While Mr. Pickwick is listening to Master Humphrey’s +story above, the Wellers are entertained by the housekeeper in +the kitchen, where they find Mr. Slithers, the barber, to whom +Sam Weller, drawing extensively we may suppose upon his lively +imagination, relates the following anecdote:—</p> +<blockquote><p>“I never knew,” said Sam, fixing his +eyes in a ruminative manner upon the blushing barber, “I +never knew but von o’ your trade, but <i>he</i> wos worth a +dozen, and wos indeed dewoted to his callin’!”</p> +<p>“Was he in the easy shaving way, sir,” inquired +Mr. Slithers; “or in the cutting and curling +line?”</p> +<p>“Both,” replied Sam; “easy shavin’ was +his natur, and cuttin’ and curlin’ was his pride and +glory. His whole delight wos in his trade. He spent +all his money in bears and run in debt for ’em besides, and +there they wos a growling avay down in the front cellar all day +long, and ineffectooally gnashing their teeth, vile the grease +o’ their relations and friends wos being re-tailed in +gallipots in the shop above, and the first-floor winder wos +ornamented vith their heads; not to speak o’ the dreadful +aggrawation it must have been to ’em to see a man alvays a +walkin’ up and down the pavement outside, vith the portrait +of a <a name="page16"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 16</span>bear +in his last agonies, and underneath in large letters, +‘Another fine animal wos slaughtered yesterday at +Jinkinson’s!’ Hows’ever, there they wos, +and there Jinkinson wos, till he wos took wery ill with some +inn’ard disorder, lost the use of his legs, and wos +confined to his bed, vere he laid a wery long time, but sich wos +his pride in his profession even then, that wenever he wos worse +than usual, the doctor used to go down stairs and say, +‘Jinkinson’s wery low this mornin’; we must +give the bears a stir;’ and as sure as ever they stirred +’em up a bit, and made ’em roar, Jinkinson opens his +eyes if he wos ever so bad, calls out, ‘There’s the +bears!’ and rewives agin. Vun day the doctor +happenin’ to say, ‘I shall look in as usual to-morrow +mornin’,’ Jinkinson catches hold of his hand and +says, ‘Doctor,’ he says, ‘will you grant me one +favor?’ ‘I will, Jinkinson,’ says the +doctor. ‘Then, doctor,’ says Jinkinson, +‘vill you come un-shaved, and let me shave +you?’ ‘I will,’ says the doctor. +‘God bless you,’ says Jinkinson. Next day the +doctor came, and arter he’d been shaved all skilful and +reg’lar, he says, ‘Jinkinson,’ he says, +‘it’s wery plain this does you good. +Now,’ he says, ‘I’ve got a coachman as has got +a beard that it ’d warm your heart to work on, and though +the footman,’ he says, ‘hasn’t got much of a +beard, still he’s a trying it on vith a pair o’ +viskers to that extent, that razors is christian charity. +If they take it in turns to mind the carriage wen it’s a +waitin’ below,’ he says, ‘wot’s to hinder +you from operatin’ on both of ’em ev’ry day <a +name="page17"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 17</span>as well as +upon me? you’ve got six children,’ he says, +‘wot’s to hinder you from shavin’ all their +heads, and keepin’ ’em shaved? You’ve got +two assistants in the shop down-stairs, wot’s to hinder you +from cuttin’ and curlin’ them as often as you +like? Do this,’ he says, ‘and you’re a +man agin.’ Jinkinson squeedged the doctor’s +hand, and begun that wery day; he kept his tools upon the bed, +and wenever he felt his-self gettin’ worse, he turned to at +vun o’ the children, who wos a runnin’ about the +house vith heads like clean Dutch cheeses, and shaved him +agin. Vun day the lawyer come to make his vill; all the +time he wos a takin’ it down, Jinkinson was secretly a +clippin’ avay at his hair vith a large pair of +scissors. ‘Wot’s that ’ere snippin’ +noise?’ says the lawyer every now and then, +‘it’s like a man havin’ his hair +cut.’ ‘It <i>is</i> wery like a man +havin’ his hair cut,’ says poor Jinkinson, +hidin’ the scissors and lookin’ quite innocent. +By the time the lawyer found it out, he was wery nearly +bald. Jinkinson was kept alive in this vay for a long time, +but at last vun day he has in all the children, vun arter +another, shaves each on ’em wery clean, and gives him vun +kiss on the crown of his head; then he has in the two assistants, +and arter cuttin’ and curlin’ of ’em in the +first style of elegance, says he should like to hear the woice +o’ the greasiest bear, vich rekvest is immedetly complied +with; then he says that he feels wery happy in his mind, and +vishes to be left alone; and then he dies, prevously +cuttin’ his <a name="page18"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +18</span>own hair, and makin’ one flat curl in the wery +middle of his forehead.” <a name="citation18a"></a><a +href="#footnote18a" class="citation">[18a]</a></p> +</blockquote> +<p>There is a great deal more in the same vein, not unworthy of +the “Pickwick Papers.” We must leave the +curious reader to find it out, however, for himself.</p> +<p>During the progress of this publication, it seems that certain +officious persons, mistaking it for a kind of <i>omnium +gatherum</i>, by “several hands,” tendered +contributions to its pages, and the author was compelled to issue +the following advertisement:</p> +<blockquote><p style="text-align: center">MASTER HUMPHREY’S +CLOCK.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Mr. Dickens</span> begs to inform all +those Ladies and Gentlemen who have tendered him contributions +for this work, and all those who may now or at any future time +have it in contemplation to do so, that he cannot avail himself +of their obliging offers, as it is written solely by himself, and +cannot possibly include any productions from other hands.</p> +<p>This announcement will serve for a final answer to all +correspondents, and will render any private communications +unnecessary.</p> +</blockquote> +<p>After “winding up his Clock,” as he termed it, +Dickens resolved to make a tour in the United States. +Before he went away, however, some of the most distinguished +citizens of Edinburgh gave him a farewell banquet. <a +name="citation18b"></a><a href="#footnote18b" +class="citation">[18b]</a> He was then only twenty-nine +years of age, and this was the first great public recognition of +his genius, and the first occasion that was afforded him of +displaying his powers as a public <a name="page19"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 19</span>speaker. Professor Wilson +(Christopher North) presided, and spoke of the young author in +the following terms:—</p> +<blockquote><p>“Our friend has dealt with the common +feelings and passions of ordinary men in the common and ordinary +paths of life. He has not sought—at least he has not +yet sought—to deal with those thoughts and passions that +are made conspicuous from afar by the elevated stations of those +who experience them. He has mingled in the common walks of +life; he has made himself familiar with the lower orders of +society. He has not been deterred by the aspect of vice and +wickedness, and misery and guilt, from seeking a spirit of good +in things evil, but has endeavoured by the might of genius to +transmute what was base into what is precious as the beaten gold. +. . . But I shall be betrayed, if I go on much +longer,—which it would be improper for me to do—into +something like a critical delineation of the genius of our +illustrious guest. I shall not attempt that; but I cannot +but express in a few ineffectual words, the delight which every +human bosom feels in the benign spirit which pervades all his +creations. How kind and good a man he is, I need not say; +nor what strength of genius he has acquired by that profound +sympathy with his fellow-creatures, whether in prosperity and +happiness, or overwhelmed with unfortunate circumstances, but who +do not yet sink under their miseries, but trust to their own +strength of endurance, to that principle of truth and honour and +integrity which is no stranger <a name="page20"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 20</span>to the uncultivated bosom, which is +found in the lowest abodes in as great strength as in the halls +of nobles and the palaces of kings.</p> +<p>“Mr. Dickens is also a satirist. He satirises +human life, but he does not satirise it to degrade it. He +does not wish to pull down what is high into the neighbourhood of +what is low. He does not seek to represent all virtue as a +hollow thing, in which no confidence can be placed. He +satirises only the selfish, and the hard-hearted, and the cruel; +he exposes in a hideous light that principle which, when acted +upon, gives a power to men in the lowest grades to carry on a +more terrific tyranny than if placed upon thrones. I shall +not say—for I do not feel—that our distinguished +guest has done full and entire justice to one subject—that +he has entirely succeeded where I have no doubt he would be most +anxious to succeed—in a full and complete delineation of +the female character. But this he has done: he has not +endeavoured to represent women as charming merely by the aid of +accomplishments, however elegant and graceful. He has not +depicted those accomplishments as the essentials of their +character, but has spoken of them rather as always inspired by a +love of domesticity, by fidelity, by purity, by innocence, by +charity, and by hope, which makes them discharge, under the most +difficult circumstances, their duties; and which brings over +their path in this world some glimpses of the light of +heaven. Mr. Dickens may be assured that there is felt for +him all over Scotland a sentiment <a name="page21"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 21</span>of kindness, affection, admiration +and love; and I know for certain that the knowledge of these +sentiments must make him happy.”</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="gapshortline"> </div> +<p>Dickens left Liverpool, on his voyage across the Atlantic, in +the “Britannia” steam-packet, Captain Hewett, on the +3rd of January, 1842. At Boston, Hartford, and New York, he +was received with ovations (Washington Irving on one occasion +presiding at a banquet held in his honour), until he was obliged +to decline any further appearance in public. During this +first visit to America, he made three long and eloquent speeches, +which are all given in this volume <i>in extenso</i>. In +each of these he referred in an earnest way to the great question +of International Copyright, urging upon his Transatlantic friends +the necessity of doing right and justice in this matter. He +returned to England in the month of June, and a few weeks +afterwards addressed the following circular letter to all the +principal English authors:—</p> +<blockquote><p style="text-align: right">“1, <span +class="smcap">Devonshire Terrace</span>, York Gate, +Regent’s Park,<br /> +“7<i>th</i> <i>July</i>, 1842.</p> +<p>“You may perhaps be aware that, during my stay in +America, I lost no opportunity of endeavouring to awaken the +public mind to a sense of the unjust and iniquitous state of the +law in that country, in reference to the wholesale piracy of +British works. Having been successful in making the subject +one of general discussion in the United States, I carried to +Washington, for presentation to Congress by Mr. Clay, a petition +<a name="page22"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 22</span>from the +whole body of American authors, earnestly praying for the +enactment of an International Copyright Law. It was signed +by Mr. Washington Irving, Mr. Prescott, Mr. Cooper, and every man +who has distinguished himself in the literature of America; and +has since been referred to a Select Committee of the House of +Representatives. To counteract any effect which might be +produced by that petition, a meeting was held in +Boston—which, you will remember, is the seat and stronghold +of Learning and Letters in the United States—at which a +memorial against any change in the existing state of things in +this respect was agreed to, with but one dissentient voice. +This document, which, incredible as it may appear to you, was +actually forwarded to Congress and received, deliberately stated +that if English authors were invested with any control over the +re-publication of their own books, it would be no longer possible +for American editors to alter and adapt them (as they do now) to +the American taste! This memorial was, without loss of +time, replied to by Mr. Prescott, who commented, with the natural +indignation of a gentleman, and a man of letters, upon its +extraordinary dishonesty. I am satisfied that this brief +mention of its tone and spirit is sufficient to impress you with +the conviction that it becomes all those who are in any way +connected with the literature of England, to take that high +stand, to which the nature of their pursuits, and the extent of +their sphere of usefulness, justly entitle them, to discourage +the upholders of such doctrines by every means in their power, +and to hold themselves aloof from the remotest participation in a +system, from which the moral sense and honourable feeling of all +just men must instinctively recoil.</p> +<p>“For myself, I have resolved that I will never from this +time enter into any negotiation with any person for the +transmission across the Atlantic of early proofs of anything I +may write, and that I will forego all profit derivable from such +a source. I do not venture to urge this line of proceeding +upon you, but I would beg to suggest, and to lay great stress +upon the necessity <a name="page23"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +23</span>of observing one other course of action, to which I +cannot too emphatically call your attention. The persons +who exert themselves to mislead the American public on this +question, to put down its discussion, and to suppress and distort +the truth in reference to it in every possible way, are (as you +may easily suppose) those who have a strong interest in the +existing system of piracy and plunder: inasmuch as, so long as it +continues, they can gain a very comfortable living out of the +brains of other men, while they would find it very difficult to +earn bread by the exercise of their own. These are the +editors and proprietors of newspapers almost exclusively devoted +to the re-publication of popular English works. They are, +for the most part, men of very low attainments, and of more than +indifferent reputation; and I have frequently seen them, in the +same sheet in which they boast of the rapid sale of many thousand +copies of an English reprint, coarsely and insolently attacking +the author of that very book, and heaping scurrility and slander +upon his head. I would therefore entreat you, in the name +of the honourable pursuit with which you are so intimately +connected, never to hold correspondence with any of these men, +and never to negotiate with them for the sale of early proofs of +any work over which you have control, but to treat on all +occasions with some respectable American publishing house, and +with such an establishment only. Our common interest in +this subject, and my advocacy of it, single-handed, on every +occasion that has presented itself during my absence from Europe, +form my excuse for addressing you.</p> +<p style="text-align: right">“I am, &c.,<br /> +“<span class="smcap">Charles Dickens</span>.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>By his “American Notes,” and by some of the scenes +in “Martin Chuzzlewit,” Dickens gave for a time great +offence to the Americans, though he only satirised some of their +foibles (with just a spice of piquante exaggeration), as he had +ours at home. Let <a name="page24"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 24</span>the reader hear what two candid +Americans have recently written on this subject:—</p> +<blockquote><p>“The ‘American Notes’ are weak, +and unworthy of their author; but the American sketches in +‘Martin Chuzzlewit’ are among the cleverest and +truest things he has ever written. The satire was richly +deserved, well applied, and has done a great deal of good. +To claim that it was mere burlesque and exaggeration, is sheer +nonsense, and it is highly disingenuous to deny the existence of +the absurdities upon which it was founded. Moreover, the +popular implication that there is really nothing now in the +country justly to provoke a smile—to urge with so much +complacency that we have changed all that—argues the +continued existence of not a little of the same thin-skinned +tetchiness, the same inability ‘to see ourselves as others +see us,’ which made us so legitimate a target +before.”</p> +<p>“As for certain American portraits painted in Martin +Chuzzlewit,” says an American lady, <a +name="citation24"></a><a href="#footnote24" +class="citation">[24]</a> “I should as soon think of +objecting to them as I should think of objecting to any other +discovery in natural history. To deny the existence of +Elijah Pogram, Jefferson Brick, Colonel Diver, Mrs. Hominy, and +Miss Codger, is to deny facts somewhat exaggerated, that are +patent to any keen observer who has ever travelled through the +United States. The character of Elijah Pogram is so well +known as to constantly figure in <a name="page25"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 25</span>the world of illustration; and we can +well afford to laugh at foibles of native growth when Mr. Dickens +devotes the greater part of this same novel to the exposition of +English vice and selfishness.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>The following letter, referring to Martin Chuzzlewit, which +was then in course of publication, was addressed by Mr. Dickens +to a friend in January, 1844:—</p> +<blockquote><p style="text-align: right">“Devonshire +Terrace,<br /> +“<i>January</i> 2<i>d</i>, 1844.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">My dear Sir</span>,</p> +<p>“<span class="smcap">That</span> is a very horrible case +you tell me of. I would to God I could get at the parental +heart of —, in which event I would so scarify it, that he +should writhe again. But if I were to put such a father as +he into a book, all the fathers going (and especially the bad +ones) would hold up their hands and protest against the unnatural +caricature. I find that a great many people (particularly +those who might have sat for the character) consider even Mr. +Pecksniff a grotesque impossibility, and Mrs. Nickleby herself, +sitting bodily before me in a solid chair, once asked me whether +I really believed there ever was such a woman.</p> +<p>“So — reviewing his own case, would not believe in +Jonas Chuzzlewit. ‘I like Oliver Twist,’ says +—, ‘for I am fond of children. But the book is +unnatural, for who would think of being cruel to poor little +Oliver Twist!’</p> +<p>“Nevertheless I will bear the dog in my mind, and if I +can hit him between the eyes so that he shall stagger more than +you or I have done this Christmas under the combined effects of +punch and turkey, I will.</p> +<p>“Thank you cordially for your note. Excuse this +scrap of paper. I thought it was a whole sheet until I +turned it over.</p> +<p style="text-align: right">“My dear Sir,<br /> +“Faithfully yours,<br /> +“<span class="smcap">Charles Dickens</span>.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p><a name="page26"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 26</span>To a +collection of Sketches and Tales by a Working Man, published in +1844, <a name="citation26"></a><a href="#footnote26" +class="citation">[26]</a> Charles Dickens was induced to +contribute a preface, from which we select the following +passages:—</p> +<blockquote><p>“I do not recommend it as a book of +surpassing originality or transcendent merit . . . I do not claim +to have discovered, in humble life, an extraordinary and +brilliant genius. I cannot charge mankind in general with +having entered into a conspiracy to neglect the author of this +volume, or to leave him pining in obscurity. I have not the +smallest intention of comparing him with Burns, the exciseman; or +with Bloomfield, the shoemaker; or with Ebenezer Elliott, the +worker in iron; or with James Hogg, the shepherd. I see no +reason to be hot, or bitter, or lowering, or sarcastic, or +indignant, or fierce, or sour, or sharp, in his behalf. I +have nothing to rail at; nothing to exalt; nothing to flourish in +the face of a stony-hearted world; and have but a very short and +simple story to tell.</p> +<p>“John Overs is, as is set forth in the title-page, a +working man. A man who earns his weekly wages (or who did +when he was strong enough) by plying of the hammer, plane, and +chisel. He became known to me nearly six years ago, when he +sent me some songs, appropriate to the different months of the +year, with a letter, stating under what circumstances they had <a +name="page27"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 27</span>been +composed, and in what manner he was occupied from morning until +night. I was just then relinquishing the conduct of a +monthly periodical, <a name="citation27"></a><a +href="#footnote27" class="citation">[27]</a> or I would gladly +have published them. As it was, I returned them to him, +with a private expression of the interest I felt in such +productions. They were afterwards accepted, with much +readiness and consideration, by Mr. Tait, of Edinburgh, and were +printed in his Magazine.</p> +<p>“Finding, after some further correspondence with my new +friend, that his authorship had not ceased with his verses, but +that he still occupied his leisure moments in writing, I took +occasion to remonstrate with him seriously against his pursuing +that course. I told him, his persistence in his new calling +made me uneasy; and I advised him to abandon it as strongly as I +could.</p> +<p>“In answer to this dissuasion of mine, he wrote me as +manly and straightforward, but withal, as modest a letter, as +ever I read in my life. He explained to me how limited his +ambition was: soaring no higher than the establishment of his +wife in some light business, and the better education of his +children. He set before me the difference between his +evening and holiday studies, such as they were; and the having no +better resource than an ale-house or a skittle-ground. He +told me how every small addition to his stock of knowledge made +his Sunday walks the pleasanter, <a name="page28"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 28</span>the hedge-flowers sweeter, everything +more full of interest and meaning to him.</p> +<p style="text-align: center">* * * * *</p> +<p>“He is very ill; the faintest shadow of the man who came +into my little study for the first time, half-a-dozen years ago, +after the correspondence I have mentioned. He has been very +ill for a long period; his disease is a severe and wasting +affection of the lungs, which has incapacitated him these many +months for every kind of occupation. ‘If I could only +do a hard day’s work,’ he said to me the other day, +‘how happy I should be.’</p> +<p>“Having these papers by him, amongst others, he +bethought himself that, if he could get a bookseller to purchase +them for publication in a volume, they would enable him to make +some temporary provision for his sick wife, and very young +family. We talked the matter over together, and that it +might be easier of accomplishment I promised him that I would +write an introduction to his book.</p> +<p>“I would to Heaven that I could do him better +service! I would to Heaven it were an introduction to a +long, and vigorous, and useful life! But Hope will not trim +his lamp the less brightly for him and his, because of this +impulse to their struggling fortunes, and trust me, reader, they +deserve her light, and need it sorely.</p> +<p>“He has inscribed this book to one <a +name="citation28"></a><a href="#footnote28" +class="citation">[28]</a> whose skill <a name="page29"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 29</span>will help him, under Providence, in +all that human skill can do. <a name="citation29"></a><a +href="#footnote29" class="citation">[29]</a> To one who +never could have recognised in any potentate on earth a higher +claim to constant kindness and attention than he has recognized +in him. * * * *”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>The beautiful series of Christmas stories, with which during +the last fifteen years the public have become so familiar, was +commenced by Mr. Dickens in December, 1843, with <i>A Christmas +Carol in Prose</i>, illustrated by John Leech. What +Jeffrey, what Sydney Smith, what Jerrold, what Thackeray thought +and wrote about this little story is well known. +“Blessings on your kind heart, my dear Dickens,” +wrote Jeffrey, “and may it always be as full and as light +as it is kind, and a fountain of goodness to all within reach of +its beatings. We are all charmed with your Carol; chiefly, +I think, for the genuine goodness which breathes all through it, +and is the true inspiring angel by which its genius has been +awakened. The whole scene of the Cratchits is like the +dream of a beneficent angel, in spite of its broad reality, and +little Tiny Tim in life and in death almost as sweet and touching +as Nelly. You may be sure you have done more good, and not +only fastened more kindly feelings, but prompted more positive +acts of benevolence by this little publication than can be <a +name="page30"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 30</span>traced to all +the pulpits and confessionals since Christmas, 1842.”</p> +<blockquote><p>“It is the work,” writes Thackeray, <a +name="citation30"></a><a href="#footnote30" +class="citation">[30]</a> “of the master of all the English +humourists now alive; the young man who came and took his place +calmly at the head of the whole tribe, and who has kept it. +Think of all we owe Mr. Dickens since those half-dozen years, the +store of happy hours that he has made us pass, the kindly and +pleasant companions whom he has introduced to us; the harmless +laughter, the generous wit, the frank, manly, human love which he +has taught us to feel! Every month of those years has +brought us some kind token from this delightful genius. His +books may have lost in art, perhaps, but could we afford to +wait? Since the days when the <i>Spectator</i> was produced +by a man of kindred mind and temper, what books have appeared +that have taken so affectionate a hold of the English public as +these?</p> +<p>“Who can listen to objections regarding such a book as +this? It seems to me a national benefit, and to every man +or woman who reads it a personal kindness. The last two +people I heard speak of it were women; neither knew the other, or +the author, and both said by way of criticism, ‘God bless +him!’ * * * As for Tiny Tim, there is a certain passage in +the book regarding that young gentleman about which a man should +hardly venture to speak in print or in public, any more than he +would of any other affections of his private heart. There +is not a reader in England <a name="page31"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 31</span>but that little creature will be a +bond of union between the author and him; and he will say of +Charles Dickens, as the woman just now, ‘God bless +him!’ What a feeling is this for a writer to be able +to inspire, and what a reward to reap.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>During six years did Mr. Dickens continue to issue at +Christmas these little volumes: “A Christmas Carol” +(December, 1843); “The Chimes” (December, 1844); +“The Cricket on the Hearth” (December, 1845); +“The Battle of Life” (December, 1846); “The +Haunted Man and the Ghost’s Bargain” (December, +1848). <a name="citation31"></a><a href="#footnote31" +class="citation">[31]</a></p> +<p>Christmas stories are now grown so much the fashion that, +whenever the season of holly and mistletoe comes round they greet +us at every turn, forcing themselves upon our notice through +every species of whimsical and enticing embellishment. Why +is it that, amidst such a satiety of novelties we turn again and +again, with an interest as keen as ever, to a perusal of the +pages where little Dot Peerybingle chirps as brightly as the +cricket on her own hearth, where Trotty Veck listens to the +voices of the chimes, striving to comprehend what it is they say +to him, and where old Scrooge’s heart is softened by his +ghostly visitants? It is because Charles Dickens has made +such a study of that human nature we all possess <a +name="page32"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 32</span>in common +that he is able to strike with a practised hand upon the chords +of our hearts, and draw forth harmony that vibrates from soul to +soul.</p> +<p>It is not, however, our intention here, to follow Mr. Dickens +through the whole of his long and honourable literary career, far +less to undertake the superfluous task of extolling the numerous +and brilliant list of writings that have followed each other in +rapid and welcome succession from his indefatigable pen. +All that remains for us to do now, is to notice briefly two very +grave charges that have been made against the general tendency of +his writings, and to bring forward some evidence in refutation of +them.</p> +<p>These two charges are, 1, a wilful perversion of facts in +describing the political and social condition of our time; 2, an +irreverence for and ridicule of sacred things and persons, which +(say the objectors) infuses a subtle poison through the whole of +his works, and unsettles the belief of the young. We shall +take these charges one at a time.</p> +<p>In some of his later novels, such as “Bleak +House,” and “Little Dorrit,” in which he has +endeavoured to grapple with the great social and political +problems of the age, certain critics have accused him of +exaggeration, and even of a wilful perversion of facts. +Against their opinion we are pleased to be able to set that of so +good an authority as the author of “Modern +Painters:”—</p> +<blockquote><p>“The essential value and truth of +Dickens’s writings,” says Mr. Ruskin, “have +been unwisely lost <a name="page33"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +33</span>sight of by many thoughtful persons, merely because he +presents his truth with some colour of caricature. +Unwisely, because Dickens’s caricature, though often gross, +is never mistaken. Allowing for his manner of telling them, +the things he tells us are always true. I wish that he +could think it right to limit his brilliant exaggeration to works +written only for public amusement; and when he takes up a subject +of high national importance, such as that which he handled in +‘Hard Times,’ that he would use severer and more +accurate analysis. The usefulness of that work (to my mind, +in several respects the greatest he has written,) is with many +persons seriously diminished, because Mr. Bounderby is a dramatic +monster, instead of a characteristic example of a worldly master; +and Stephen Blackpool a dramatic perfection, instead of a +characteristic example of an honest workman. But let us not +lose the use of Dickens’s wit and insight because he +chooses to speak in a circle of stage fire. He is entirely +right in his main drift and purpose in every book he has written; +and all of them, but especially ‘Hard Times,’ should +be studied with close and earnest care by persons interested in +social questions. They will find much that is partial, and, +because partial, apparently unjust; but if they examine all the +evidence on the other side, which Dickens seems to overlook, it +will appear, after all their trouble, that his view was the +finally right one, grossly and sharply told.” <a +name="citation33"></a><a href="#footnote33" +class="citation">[33]</a></p> +</blockquote> +<p><a name="page34"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +34</span>Secondly, Mr. Dickens is accused of an irreverence for, +and unseemly ridicule of, sacred things. Any attentive +reader of Dickens will have observed that he is not much in the +habit of quoting from, or alluding to the writings of others; but +that when he does quote or allude, it is in the great majority of +cases from or to the Holy Scriptures. <a name="citation34"></a><a +href="#footnote34" class="citation">[34]</a> Occasionally +we come upon a reference to Shakespeare; now and then we meet +with one from Swift, or Scott, or Byron; but these occur so +seldom, that it may be said, once for all, that the source from +which Mr. Dickens is usually in the habit of making quotations, +is the Bible only. It is very interesting to find that so +many of Mr. Dickens’s characters are represented as being +in the habit either of regularly reading and studying the Bible, +or of having it read to them by some one else.</p> +<p>“I ain’t much of a hand at reading +writing-hand,” said Betty Higden, “though I can read +my Bible and most print.” Little Nell was in the +constant habit of taking the Bible with her to read while in her +quiet and lonely retreat in the old church, after all her long +and weary wanderings were past. In the happy time which +Oliver Twist spent with Mrs. Maylie and Rose, he used to read, in +the evenings, a chapter or two from the Bible, which he had been +studying all the week, and in the performance of which duty he +felt more proud and pleased than if he had been the clergyman <a +name="page35"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +35</span>himself. There was Sarah, in the “Sketches +by Boz,” who regularly read the Bible to her old mistress; +and in the touching sketch of “Our Next-door +Neighbour” in the same book, we find the mother of the sick +boy engaged in reading the Bible to him when the visitor called +and interrupted her. This incident reminds us of the poor +Chancery prisoner in the Fleet, who, when on his death-bed calmly +waiting the release which would set him free for ever, had the +Bible read to him by an old man in a cobbler’s apron. +One of David Copperfield’s earliest recollections was of a +certain Sunday evening, when his mother read aloud to him and +Peggotty the story of Our Saviour raising Lazarus from the +dead. So deep an impression did the story make upon the +boy, taken in connexion with all that had been lately told him +about his father’s funeral, that he requested to be carried +up to his bed-room, from the windows of which he could see the +quiet churchyard with the dead all lying in their graves at rest +below the solemn moon. Pip, too, in “Great +Expectations,” was not only in the habit of reading the +Bible to the convict under sentence of death, but of praying with +him as well; and Esther Summerson tells us how she used to come +downstairs every evening at nine o’clock to read the Bible +to her god-mother.</p> +<p>Not a few of the dwellings into which Mr. Dickens conducts us +in the course of some of his best-known stories, have their walls +decorated with prints illustrative of familiar scenes from sacred +history. Thus when Martin <a name="page36"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 36</span>Chuzzlewit went away from +Pecksniff’s, and was ten good miles on his way to London, +he stopped to breakfast in the parlour of a little roadside inn, +on the walls of which were two or three highly-coloured pictures, +representing the Wise Men at the Manger, and the Prodigal Son +returning to his Father. On the walls of Peggotty’s +charming boat-cottage there were prints, showing the Sacrifice of +Isaac, and the Casting of Daniel into the Den of Lions. +When Arthur Clennam came home after his long absence in the East, +he found the Plagues of Egypt still hanging, framed and glazed, +on the same old place in his mother’s parlour. And +who has forgotten the fireplace in old Scrooge’s house, +which “was paved all round with quaint Dutch tiles, +designed to illustrate the Scriptures?”</p> +<p>Here are a few comparisons. Mr. Larry, in bestowing a +bachelor’s blessing on Miss Cross, before +“somebody” came to claim her for his own, “held +the fair face from him to look at the well-remembered expression +on the forehead, and then laid the bright golden hair against his +little brown wig, with a genuine tenderness and delicacy which, +if such things be old-fashioned, were as old as +Adam.” As old as Adam here means so long ago as +Adam’s time; while Methuselah suggests great age. +Thus Miss Jellyby relieved her mind to Miss Summerson on the +subject of Mr. Quale, in the following energetic +language:—“If he were to come with his great shining, +lumpy forehead, night after night, till he was as old as <a +name="page37"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 37</span>Methuselah, I +wouldn’t have anything to say to him.” And Mr. +Filer, in his eminently practical remarks on the lamentable +ignorance of political economy on the part of working people in +connexion with marriage, observed to Alderman Cute that a man may +live to be as old as Methuselah, and may labour all his life for +the benefit of such people; but there could be no more hope of +persuading them that they had no right or business to be married, +than he could hope to persuade them that they had no earthly +right or business to be born. Miss Betsy Trotwood declared +to Mr. Dick that the natural consequence of David +Copperfield’s mother having married a murderer—or a +man with a name very like it—was to set the boy a-prowling +and wandering about the country, “like Cain before he was +grown up.” Joe Gargery’s journeyman, on going +away from his work at night, used to slouch out of the shop like +Cain, or the Wandering Jew, as if he had no idea where he was +going, and had no intention of ever coming back. Describing +the state of “the thriving City of Eden,” when Martin +and Mark arrived there, the author of “Martin +Chuzzlewit” says—“The waters of the Deluge +might have left it but a week before, so choked with slime and +matted growth was the hideous swamp which bore that +name.” The Deluge suggests Noah’s ark. +The following reference to it is from “Little +Dorrit,” descriptive of the gradual approach of darkness up +among the highest ridges of the Alps:—“The ascending +night came up the mountains like a rising <a +name="page38"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 38</span>water. +When at last it rose to the walls of the convent of the great St. +Bernard, it was as if that weather-beaten structure were another +ark, and floated on the shadowy waves.” Here is +something from the Tower of Babel:—“Looming heavy in +the black wet night, the tall chimneys of the Coketown factories +rose high into the air, and looked as if they were so many +competing towers of Babel.” When Mortimer Lightwood +inquired of Charley Hexam, with reference to the body of the man +found in the river, whether or not any means had been employed to +restore life, he received this reply:—“You +wouldn’t ask, sir, if you knew his state. +Pharoah’s multitude that were drowned in the Red Sea +ain’t more beyond restoring to life.” The boy +added, further, “that if Lazarus were only half as far +gone, that was the greatest of all the miracles.” +When the Scotch surgeon was called in professionally to see Mr. +Krook’s unfortunate lodger, the Scotch tongue pronounced +him to be “just as dead as Chairy.” Job’s +poverty is not likely to be forgotten among the +comparisons. No, Mr. Mell’s mother was as poor as +Job. Nor Samson’s strength: Dot’s mother had so +many infallible recipes for the preservation of the baby’s +health, that had they all been administered, the said baby must +have been done for, though strong as an infant Samson. Nor +Goliath’s importance: John Chivery’s chivalrous +feeling towards all that belonged to Little Dorrit, made him so +very respectable, in spite of his small stature, his weak legs, +and his <a name="page39"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +39</span>genuine poetic temperament, that a Goliath might have +sat in his place demanding less consideration at Arthur +Clennam’s hands. Nor Solomon’s wisdom: Trotty +Veck was so delighted when the child kissed him that he +couldn’t help saying, “She’s as sensible as +Solomon.” Miss Wade having said farewell to her +fellow-travellers in the public room of the hotel at Marseilles, +sought her own apartment. As she passed along the gallery, +she heard an angry sound of muttering and sobbing. A door +stood open, and, looking into the room, she saw therein +Pet’s attendant, the maid with the curious name of +Tattycoram. Miss Wade asked what was the matter, and +received in reply a few short and angry words in a +deeply-injured, ill-used tone. Then again commenced the +sobs and tears and pinching, tearing fingers, making altogether +such a scene as if she were being “rent by the demons of +old.” Let us close these comparisons by quoting +another from the same book, “Little Dorrit,” +descriptive of the evening stillness after a day of terrific +glare and heat at Marseilles:—“The sun went down in a +red, green, golden glory; the stars came out in the heavens, and +the fire-flies mimicked them in the lower air, as men may feebly +imitate the goodness of a better order of beings; the long, dusty +roads and the interminable plains were in repose, and <i>so deep +a hush was on the sea</i>, <i>that it scarcely whispered of the +time when it shall give up its dead</i>.”</p> +<p>Looking over the familiar pages of “Nicholas +Nickleby,” our eye lights upon a passage, almost at <a +name="page40"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 40</span>opening, +which refers to God’s goodness and mercy. As +Nickleby’s father lay on his death-bed, he embraced his +wife and children, and then “solemnly commended them to One +who never deserted the widow or her fatherless +children.” Towards the close of Esther +Summerson’s narrative in “Bleak House” we read +these touching, tender words regarding Ada’s +baby:—“The little child who was to have done so much +was born before the turf was planted on its father’s +grave. It was a boy; and I, my husband, and my guardian +gave him his father’s name. The help that my dear +counted on did come to her; though it came in the Eternal Wisdom +for another purpose. Though to bless and restore his +mother, not his father, was the errand of this baby, its power +was mighty to do it. When I saw the strength of the weak +little hand, and how its touch could heal my darling’s +heart and raise up hopes within her, I felt a new sense of the +goodness and tenderness of God.” After these +illustrations of the great lessons of the goodness of God, and +that there is mercy in even our hardest trials, we come next upon +one which teaches the duty of patience and resignation to +God’s will. Mrs. Maylie observed to Oliver Twist, +with reference to the dangerous illness of Rose, that she had +seen and experienced enough to “know that it is not always +the youngest and best who are spared to those that love them; but +this should give us comfort in our sorrow, for Heaven is just, +and such things teach us impressively that there is a brighter +world than this, <a name="page41"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +41</span>and that the passage to it is speedy. God’s +will be done!”</p> +<p>Our Saviour’s life and teaching afford so many +interesting illustrations to Charles Dickens that our great +difficulty, in the limited space to which we are now confined, is +to make a good selection. Here is a sketch entitled +“A Christmas Tree,” from one of his reprinted pieces, +which contains this simple and beautiful summary of our +Lord’s life on earth:—“The waits are playing, +and they break my childish sleep! What images do I +associate with the Christmas music as I see them set forth on the +Christmas Tree? Known before all the others, keeping far +apart from all the others, they gather round my little bed. +An angel speaking to a group of shepherds in a field; some +travellers, with eyes uplifted, following a star; a Baby in a +manger; a Child in a spacious temple talking with grave men; a +solemn figure, with a mild and beautiful face, raising a dead +girl by the hand; again, near a city gate, calling back the son +of a widow, on his bier, to life; a crowd of people looking +through the opened roof of a chamber where He sits, and letting +down a sick person on a bed with ropes; the same, in a tempest, +walking on the water to a ship; again, on a sea-shore, teaching a +great multitude; again, with a child upon His knee, and other +children round; again, restoring sight to the blind, speech to +the dumb, hearing to the deaf, health to the sick, strength to +the lame, knowledge to the ignorant; again, dying upon a cross, +watched by armed soldiers, <a name="page42"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 42</span>a thick darkness coming on, the earth +beginning to shake, and only one voice heard, ‘Forgive +them, for they know not what they do.’”</p> +<p>These passages, which are only a few out of a very much longer +list that might be made, will be sufficient, we trust, to show +how much our greatest living novelist is in the habit of going to +the sacred narrative for illustrations to many of his most +touching incidents, and how reverent and respectful always is the +spirit in which every such illustration is employed. To +think of Charles Dickens’s writings as containing no +religious teaching, is to do them a great injustice.</p> + +<div class="gapspace"> </div> +<p>The first of Mr. Dickens’s famous public Readings was +given at Birmingham, during the Christmas week of 1853. At +a meeting held on Monday, January 10, 1853, in the theatre of the +Philosophical Institution, “for the purpose of considering +the desirableness of establishing in Birmingham a Scientific and +Literary Society upon a comprehensive plan, having for its object +the diffusion,” &c., Mr. Arthur Ryland read a letter +from Mr. Charles Dickens, received by him the day after the +Literary and Artistic Banquet, containing an offer to visit +Birmingham next Christmas, and read his Christmas Carol, in the +Town Hall, for the benefit of the proposed Institution, with the +proviso, however, that as many as possible of the working class +should be admitted free. “It would,” said Mr. +Dickens, “take about two hours, with a pause of ten minutes +half-way through. There would be some <a +name="page43"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 43</span>novelty in +the thing, as I have never done it in public, though I have in +private, and (if I may say so) with a great effect on the +hearers. I was so inexpressibly gratified last night by the +warmth and enthusiasm of my Birmingham friends, that I feel half +ashamed this morning of so poor an offer. But as I had +decided on making it to you before I came down yesterday, I +propose it nevertheless.”</p> +<p>The readings—three in number—came off with great +<i>éclat</i> during the last week of the year, and brought +in a net sum of £400 to the Institute. Mr. Dickens +continued from this time to give similar readings, for charitable +purposes, both in the provinces and in London; but it was not +till five years later (1858) that he began to read on his own +account.</p> +<p>As we are writing, that long series of +readings—continued through sixteen years, in both +hemispheres—is drawing to a close, and the voice and figure +of Charles Dickens, that have grown so familiar to us all, will +dwell henceforth in the memory alone, but in one of its most +honoured niches.</p> +<p>We ought not to omit to mention what any reader may well +surmise, that Charles Dickens is inimitable in enlivening +correspondence or table-talk with humorous anecdote, appropriate +to the occasion. We subjoin a few specimens. The +first is from one of his letters to Douglas Jerrold, and is dated +Paris, 14th February, 1847:—“I am somehow reminded of +a good story I heard the other night from a man who was a witness +of it, and an actor in it. At a certain <a +name="page44"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 44</span>German town +last autumn there was a tremendous <i>furore</i> about Jenny +Lind, who, after driving the whole place mad, left it, on her +travels, early one morning. The moment her carriage was +outside the gates, a party of rampant students, who had escorted +it, rushed back to the inn, demanded to be shown to her bedroom, +swept like a whirlwind upstairs into the room indicated to them, +tore up the sheets, and wore them in strips as decorations. +An hour or two afterwards a bald old gentleman, of amiable +appearance, an Englishman, who was staying in the hotel, came to +breakfast at the <i>table d’hôte</i>, and was +observed to be much disturbed in his mind, and to show great +terror whenever a student came near him. At last he said, +in a low voice, to some people who were near him at the table, +‘You are English gentlemen, I observe. Most +extraordinary people, these Germans! Students, as a body, +raving mad, gentlemen!’ ‘Oh, no!’ said +somebody else; ‘excitable, but very good fellows, and very +sensible.’ ‘By God, sir!’ returned the +old gentleman, still more disturbed, ‘then there’s +something political in it, and I am a marked man. I went +out for a little walk this morning after shaving, and while I was +gone’—he fell into a terrible perspiration as he told +it—‘they burst into my bedroom, tore up my sheets, +and are now patrolling the town in all directions with bits of +’em in their button-holes!’ I needn’t +wind up by adding that they had gone to the wrong +chamber.”</p> +<p>Dickens now and then administers a little gentle <a +name="page45"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 45</span>rebuke to +affectation, in a pleasant but unmistakable manner. Here is +an instance of how he silenced a bilious young writer, who was +inveighing against the world in a very “forcible feeble +manner.” During a pause in this philippic against the +human race, Dickens said across the table, in the most +self-congratulatory of tones:—“I say—what a +lucky thing it is you and I don’t belong to it? It +reminds me,” continued the author of Pickwick, “of +the two men, who on a <i>raised</i> scaffold were awaiting the +final delicate attention of the hangman; the notice of one was +aroused by observing that a bull had got into the crowd of +spectators, and was busily employed in tossing one here, and +another there; whereupon one of the criminals said to the +other—‘I say, Bill, how <i>lucky it is</i> for us +that we <i>are up here</i>.’”</p> + +<div class="gapshortline"> </div> +<p>Here is a humorous and graphic account which he sent to the +leading newspaper of his sensations during the shock of +earthquake that was felt all over England in October, 1863. +It is doubly interesting, as giving a description of his +country-house at Gad’s-hill, near Rochester:—</p> +<blockquote><p>“I was awakened by a violent swaying of my +bedstead from side to side, accompanied by a singular heaving +motion. It was exactly as if some great beast had been +crouching asleep under the bedstead, and were now shaking itself +and trying to rise. The time by my watch was twenty minutes +past three, <a name="page46"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +46</span>and I suppose the shock to have lasted nearly a +minute. The bedstead, a large iron one, standing nearly +north and south, appeared to me to be the only piece of furniture +in the room that was heavily shaken. Neither the doors nor +the windows rattled, though they rattle enough in windy weather, +this house standing alone, on high ground, in the neighbourhood +of two great rivers. There was no noise. The air was +very still, and much warmer than it had been in the earlier part +of the night. Although the previous afternoon had been wet, +the glass had not fallen. I had mentioned my surprise at +its standing near the letter ‘i’ in +‘Fair,’ and having a tendency to rise.”</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="gapshortline"> </div> +<p>But the thing which, above all others, has characterised +Dickens throughout his career, that has made his world-wide fame, +and rendered his name a household word, is his broad, genial +sympathy with life in all its phases, and with those most who are +manfully toiling towards a better day. To this +“enthusiasm of humanity” John Forster has alluded in +the Dedicatory Sonnet to Charles Dickens, prefixed to his +“Life of Goldsmith,” (March, 1848), when he +says:—</p> +<blockquote><p> “Come +with me and behold,<br /> +O friend with heart as gentle for distress,<br /> +As resolute with wise true thoughts to bind<br /> +The happiest to the unhappiest of our kind,<br /> +<a name="page47"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 47</span>That there +is fiercer crowded misery<br /> +In garret-toil and London loneliness<br /> +Than in cruel islands ’mid the far-off sea.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>The great heart of Dickens has beat in unison with his age and +with the people, and his name will be dear to all +English-speaking races long after this little island of ours, the +old home, shall have become a summer resort—a curiosity to +visit—for the children of the great Anglo-Saxon Republics +that are now growing up in the New and the Southern Worlds.</p> +<p><i>December</i>, 1869.</p> +<h2>I.<br /> +EDINBURGH, JUNE 25, 1841.</h2> +<p class="gutsumm">[At a public dinner, given in honour of Mr. +Dickens, and presided over by the late Professor Wilson, the +Chairman having proposed his health in a long and eloquent +speech, Mr. Dickens returned thanks as follows:—]</p> +<p><span class="smcap">If</span> I felt your warm and generous +welcome less, I should be better able to thank you. If I +could have listened as you have listened to the glowing language +of your distinguished Chairman, and if I could have heard as you +heard the “thoughts that breathe and words that +burn,” which he has uttered, it would have gone hard but I +should have caught some portion of his enthusiasm, and kindled at +his example. But every word which fell from his lips, and +every demonstration of sympathy and approbation with which you +received his eloquent expressions, renders me unable to respond +to his kindness, and leaves me at last all heart and no lips, +yearning to respond as I would do to your cordial +greeting—possessing, heaven knows, the will, and desiring +only to find the way.</p> +<p>The way to your good opinion, favour, and support, has been to +me very pleasing—a path strewn with flowers and cheered +with sunshine. I feel as if I stood amongst old friends, +whom I had intimately known and highly valued. I feel as if +the deaths of the fictitious creatures, in which you have been +kind enough to express an interest, had endeared us to each other +as real afflictions deepen friendships in actual life; I feel as +if they had been real persons, whose fortunes we had pursued +together in inseparable connexion, and that I had never known +them apart from you.</p> +<p>It is a difficult thing for a man to speak of himself or of +his works. But perhaps on this occasion I may, without +impropriety, venture to say a word on the spirit in which mine +were conceived. I felt an earnest and humble desire, and +shall do till I die, to increase the stock of harmless +cheerfulness. I felt that the world was not utterly to be +despised; that it was worthy of living in for many reasons. +I was anxious to find, as the Professor has said, if I could, in +evil things, that soul of goodness which the Creator has put in +them. I was anxious to show that virtue may be found in the +bye-ways of the world, that it is not incompatible with poverty +and even with rags, and to keep steadily through life the motto, +expressed in the burning words of your Northern poet—</p> +<blockquote><p>“The rank is but the guinea stamp,<br /> +The man’s the gowd for a’ that.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>And in following this track, where could I have better +assurance that I was right, or where could I have stronger +assurance to cheer me on than in your kindness on this to me +memorable night?</p> +<p>I am anxious and glad to have an opportunity of saying a word +in reference to one incident in which I am happy to know you were +interested, and still more happy to know, though it may sound +paradoxical, that you were disappointed—I mean the death of +the little heroine. When I first conceived the idea of +conducting that simple story to its termination, I determined +rigidly to adhere to it, and never to forsake the end I had in +view. Not untried in the school of affliction, in the death +of those we love, I thought what a good thing it would be if in +my little work of pleasant amusement I could substitute a garland +of fresh flowers for the sculptured horrors which disgrace the +tomb. If I have put into my book anything which can fill +the young mind with better thoughts of death, or soften the grief +of older hearts; if I have written one word which can afford +pleasure or consolation to old or young in time of trial, I shall +consider it as something achieved—something which I shall +be glad to look back upon in after life. Therefore I kept +to my purpose, notwithstanding that towards the conclusion of the +story, I daily received letters of remonstrance, especially from +the ladies. God bless them for their tender mercies! +The Professor was quite right when he said that I had not reached +to an adequate delineation of their virtues; and I fear that I +must go on blotting their characters in endeavouring to reach the +ideal in my mind. These letters were, however, combined +with others from the sterner sex, and some of them were not +altogether free from personal invective. But, +notwithstanding, I kept to my purpose, and I am happy to know +that many of those who at first condemned me are now foremost in +their approbation.</p> +<p>If I have made a mistake in detaining you with this little +incident, I do not regret having done so; for your kindness has +given me such a confidence in you, that the fault is yours and +not mine. I come once more to thank you, and here I am in a +difficulty again. The distinction you have conferred upon +me is one which I never hoped for, and of which I never dared to +dream. That it is one which I shall never forget, and that +while I live I shall be proud of its remembrance, you must well +know. I believe I shall never hear the name of this capital +of Scotland without a thrill of gratitude and pleasure. I +shall love while I have life her people, her hills, and her +houses, and even the very stones of her streets. And if in +the future works which may lie before me you should +discern—God grant you may!—a brighter spirit and a +clearer wit, I pray you to refer it back to this night, and point +to that as a Scottish passage for evermore. I thank you +again and again, with the energy of a thousand thanks in each +one, and I drink to you with a heart as full as my glass, and far +easier emptied, I do assure you.</p> + +<div class="gapshortline"> </div> +<p>Later in the evening, in proposing the health of Professor +Wilson, Mr. Dickens said:—</p> +<p>I <span class="smcap">have</span> the honour to be entrusted +with a toast, the very mention of which will recommend itself to +you, I know, as one possessing no ordinary claims to your +sympathy and approbation, and the proposing of which is as +congenial to my wishes and feelings as its acceptance must be to +yours. It is the health of our Chairman, and coupled with +his name I have to propose the literature of Scotland—a +literature which he has done much to render famous through the +world, and of which he has been for many years—as I hope +and believe he will be for many more—a most brilliant and +distinguished ornament. Who can revert to the literature of +the land of Scott and of Burns without having directly in his +mind, as inseparable from the subject and foremost in the +picture, that old man of might, with his lion heart and sceptred +crutch—Christopher North. I am glad to remember the +time when I believed him to be a real, actual, veritable old +gentleman, that might be seen any day hobbling along the High +Street with the most brilliant eye—but that is no +fiction—and the greyest hair in all the world—who +wrote not because he cared to write, not because he cared for the +wonder and admiration of his fellow-men, but who wrote because he +could not help it, because there was always springing up in his +mind a clear and sparkling stream of poetry which must have vent, +and like the glittering fountain in the fairy tale, draw what you +might, was ever at the full, and never languished even by a +single drop or bubble. I had so figured him in my mind, and +when I saw the Professor two days ago, striding along the +Parliament House, I was disposed to take it as a personal +offence—I was vexed to see him look so hearty. I +drooped to see twenty Christophers in one. I began to think +that Scottish life was all light and no shadows, and I began to +doubt that beautiful book to which I have turned again and again, +always to find new beauties and fresh sources of interest.</p> + +<div class="gapshortline"> </div> +<p>In proposing the memory of the late Sir David Wilkie, Mr. +Dickens said:—</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Less</span> fortunate than the two +gentlemen who have preceded me, it is confided to me to mention a +name which cannot be pronounced without sorrow, a name in which +Scotland had a great triumph, and which England delighted to +honour. One of the gifted of the earth has passed away, as +it were, yesterday; one who was devoted to his art, and his art +was nature—I mean David Wilkie. <a name="citation53"></a><a +href="#footnote53" class="citation">[53]</a> He was one who +made the cottage hearth a graceful thing—of whom it might +truly be said that he found “books in the running +brooks,” and who has left in all he did some breathing of +the air which stirs the heather. But however desirous to +enlarge on his genius as an artist, I would rather speak of him +now as a friend who has gone from amongst us. There is his +deserted studio—the empty easel lying idly by—the +unfinished picture with its face turned to the wall, and there is +that bereaved sister, who loved him with an affection which death +cannot quench. He has left a name in fame clear as the +bright sky; he has filled our minds with memories pure as the +blue waves which roll over him. Let us hope that she who +more than all others mourns his loss, may learn to reflect that +he died in the fulness of his time, before age or sickness had +dimmed his powers—and that she may yet associate with +feelings as calm and pleasant as we do now the memory of +Wilkie.</p> +<h2><a name="page55"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 55</span>II.<br +/> +JANUARY, 1842.</h2> +<p class="gutsumm">[In presenting Captain Hewett, of the +<i>Britannia</i>, <a name="citation55"></a><a href="#footnote55" +class="citation">[55]</a> with a service of plate on behalf of +the passengers, Mr. Dickens addressed him as follows:]</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Captain Hewett</span>,—I am very +proud and happy to have been selected as the instrument of +conveying to you the heartfelt thanks of my fellow-passengers on +board the ship entrusted to your charge, and of entreating your +acceptance of this trifling present. The ingenious artists +who work in silver do not always, I find, keep their promises, +even in Boston. I regret that, instead of two goblets, +which there should be here, there is, at present, only one. +The deficiency, however, will soon be supplied; and, when it is, +our little testimonial will be, so far, complete.</p> +<p>You are a sailor, Captain Hewett, in the truest sense of the +word; and the devoted admiration of the ladies, God bless them, +is a sailor’s first boast. I need not enlarge upon +the honour they have done you, I am sure, by their presence +here. Judging of you by myself, I am certain that the +recollection of their beautiful faces will cheer your lonely +vigils upon the ocean for a long time to come.</p> +<p>In all time to come, and in all your voyages upon the sea, I +hope you will have a thought for those who wish to live in your +memory by the help of these trifles. As they will often +connect you with the pleasure of those homes and fire sides from +which they once wandered, and which, but for you, they might +never have regained, so they trust that you will sometimes +associate them with your hours of festive enjoyment; and, that, +when you drink from these cups, you will feel that the draught is +commended to your lips by friends whose best wishes you have; and +who earnestly and truly hope for your success, happiness, and +prosperity, in all the undertakings of your life.</p> +<h2><a name="page57"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +57</span>III.<br /> +FEBRUARY 1842.</h2> +<p class="gutsumm">[At dinner given to Mr. Dickens by the young +men of Boston. The company consisted of about two hundred, +among whom were George Bancroft, Washington Allston, and Oliver +Wendell Holmes. The toast of “Health, happiness, and +a hearty welcome to Charles Dickens,” having been proposed +by the chairman, Mr. Quincy, and received with great applause, +Mr. Dickens responded with the following address:]</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Gentlemen</span>,—If you had given +this splendid entertainment to anyone else in the whole wide +world—if I were to-night to exult in the triumph of my +dearest friend—if I stood here upon my defence, to repel +any unjust attack—to appeal as a stranger to your +generosity and kindness as the freest people on the earth—I +could, putting some restraint upon myself, stand among you as +self-possessed and unmoved as I should be alone in my own room in +England. But when I have the echoes of your cordial +greeting ringing in my ears; when I see your kind faces beaming a +welcome so warm and earnest as never man had—I feel, it is +my nature, so vanquished and subdued, that I have hardly +fortitude enough to thank you. If your President, instead +of pouring forth that delightful mixture of humour and pathos +which you have just heard, had been but a caustic, ill-natured +man—if he had only been a dull one—if I could only +have doubted or distrusted him or you, I should have had my wits +at my fingers’ ends, and, using them, could have held you +at arm’s-length. But you have given me no such +opportunity; you take advantage of me in the tenderest point; you +give me no chance of playing at company, or holding you at a +distance, but flock about me like a host of brothers, and make +this place like home. Indeed, gentlemen, indeed, if it be +natural and allowable for each of us, on his own hearth, to +express his thoughts in the most homely fashion, and to appear in +his plainest garb, I have a fair claim upon you to let me do so +to-night, for you have made my home an Aladdin’s +Palace. You fold so tenderly within your breasts that +common household lamp in which my feeble fire is all enshrined, +and at which my flickering torch is lighted up, that straight my +household gods take wing, and are transported there. And +whereas it is written of that fairy structure that it never moved +without two shocks—one when it rose, and one when it +settled down—I can say of mine that, however sharp a tug it +took to pluck it from its native ground, it struck at once an +easy, and a deep and lasting root into this soil; and loved it as +its own. I can say more of it, and say with truth, that +long before it moved, or had a chance of moving, its +master—perhaps from some secret sympathy between its +timbers, and a certain stately tree that has its being hereabout, +and spreads its broad branches far and wide—dreamed by day +and night, for years, of setting foot upon this shore, and +breathing this pure air. And, trust me, gentlemen, that, if +I had wandered here, unknowing and unknown, I would—if I +know my own heart—have come with all my sympathies +clustering as richly about this land and people—with all my +sense of justice as keenly alive to their high claims on every +man who loves God’s image—with all my energies as +fully bent on judging for myself, and speaking out, and telling +in my sphere the truth, as I do now, when you rain down your +welcomes on my head.</p> +<p>Our President has alluded to those writings which have been my +occupation for some years past; and you have received his +allusions in a manner which assures me—if I needed any such +assurance—that we are old friends in the spirit, and have +been in close communion for a long time.</p> +<p>It is not easy for a man to speak of his own books. I +daresay that few persons have been more interested in mine than +I, and if it be a general principle in nature that a +lover’s love is blind, and that a mother’s love is +blind, I believe it may be said of an author’s attachment +to the creatures of his own imagination, that it is a perfect +model of constancy and devotion, and is the blindest of +all. But the objects and purposes I have had in view are +very plain and simple, and may be easily told. I have +always had, and always shall have, an earnest and true desire to +contribute, as far as in me lies, to the common stock of +healthful cheerfulness and enjoyment. I have always had, +and always shall have, an invincible repugnance to that mole-eyed +philosophy which loves the darkness, and winks and scowls in the +light. I believe that Virtue shows quite as well in rags +and patches, as she does in purple and fine linen. I +believe that she and every beautiful object in external nature, +claims some sympathy in the breast of the poorest man who breaks +his scanty loaf of daily bread. I believe that she goes +barefoot as well as shod. I believe that she dwells rather +oftener in alleys and by-ways than she does in courts and +palaces, and that it is good, and pleasant, and profitable to +track her out, and follow her. I believe that to lay +one’s hand upon some of those rejected ones whom the world +has too long forgotten, and too often misused, and to say to the +proudest and most thoughtless—“These creatures have +the same elements and capacities of goodness as yourselves, they +are moulded in the same form, and made of the same clay; and +though ten times worse than you, may, in having retained anything +of their original nature amidst the trials and distresses of +their condition, be really ten times better;” I believe +that to do this is to pursue a worthy and not useless +vocation. Gentlemen, that you think so too, your fervent +greeting sufficiently assures me. That this feeling is +alive in the Old World as well as in the New, no man should know +better than I—I, who have found such wide and ready +sympathy in my own dear land. That in expressing it, we are +but treading in the steps of those great master-spirits who have +gone before, we know by reference to all the bright examples in +our literature, from Shakespeare downward.</p> +<p>There is one other point connected with the labours (if I may +call them so) that you hold in such generous esteem, to which I +cannot help adverting. I cannot help expressing the +delight, the more than happiness it was to me to find so strong +an interest awakened on this side of the water, in favour of that +little heroine of mine, to whom your president has made allusion, +who died in her youth. I had letters about that child, in +England, from the dwellers in log-houses among the morasses, and +swamps, and densest forests, and deep solitudes of the far +west. Many a sturdy hand, hard with the axe and spade, and +browned by the summer’s sun, has taken up the pen, and +written to me a little history of domestic joy or sorrow, always +coupled, I am proud to say, with something of interest in that +little tale, or some comfort or happiness derived from it, and my +correspondent has always addressed me, not as a writer of books +for sale, resident some four or five thousand miles away, but as +a friend to whom he might freely impart the joys and sorrows of +his own fireside. Many a mother—I could reckon them +now by dozens, not by units—has done the like, and has told +me how she lost such a child at such a time, and where she lay +buried, and how good she was, and how, in this or that respect, +she resembles Nell. I do assure you that no circumstance of +my life has given me one hundredth part of the gratification I +have derived from this source. I was wavering at the time +whether or not to wind up my Clock, <a name="citation61"></a><a +href="#footnote61" class="citation">[61]</a> and come and see +this country, and this decided me. I felt as if it were a +positive duty, as if I were bound to pack up my clothes, and come +and see my friends; and even now I have such an odd sensation in +connexion with these things, that you have no chance of spoiling +me. I feel as though we were agreeing—as indeed we +are, if we substitute for fictitious characters the classes from +which they are drawn—about third parties, in whom we had a +common interest. At every new act of kindness on your part, +I say to myself “That’s for Oliver; I should not +wonder if that was meant for Smike; I have no doubt that is +intended for Nell;” and so I become a much happier, +certainly, but a more sober and retiring man than ever I was +before.</p> +<p>Gentlemen, talking of my friends in America, brings me back, +naturally and of course, to you. Coming back to you, and +being thereby reminded of the pleasure we have in store in +hearing the gentlemen who sit about me, I arrive by the easiest, +though not by the shortest course in the world, at the end of +what I have to say. But before I sit down, there is one +topic on which I am desirous to lay particular stress. It +has, or should have, a strong interest for us all, since to its +literature every country must look for one great means of +refining and improving its people, and one great source of +national pride and honour. You have in America great +writers—great writers—who will live in all time, and +are as familiar to our lips as household words. Deriving +(as they all do in a greater or less degree, in their several +walks) their inspiration from the stupendous country that gave +them birth, they diffuse a better knowledge of it, and a higher +love for it, all over the civilized world. I take leave to +say, in the presence of some of those gentleman, that I hope the +time is not far distant when they, in America, will receive of +right some substantial profit and return in England from their +labours; and when we, in England, shall receive some substantial +profit and return in America for ours. Pray do not +misunderstand me. Securing to myself from day to day the +means of an honourable subsistence, I would rather have the +affectionate regard of my fellow men, than I would have heaps and +mines of gold. But the two things do not seem to me +incompatible. They cannot be, for nothing good is +incompatible with justice; there must be an international +arrangement in this respect: England has done her part, and I am +confident that the time is not far distant when America will do +hers. It becomes the character of a great country; +<i>firstly</i>, because it is justice; <i>secondly</i>, because +without it you never can have, and keep, a literature of your +own.</p> +<p>Gentlemen, I thank you with feelings of gratitude, such as are +not often awakened, and can never be expressed. As I +understand it to be the pleasant custom here to finish with a +toast, I would beg to give you: <span class="smcap">America And +England</span>, and may they never have any division but the +Atlantic between them.</p> +<h2><a name="page63"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 63</span>IV.<br +/> +FEBRUARY 7, 1842.</h2> +<p><span class="smcap">Gentlemen</span>,—To say that I +thank you for the earnest manner in which you have drunk the +toast just now so eloquently proposed to you—to say that I +give you back your kind wishes and good feelings with more than +compound interest; and that I feel how dumb and powerless the +best acknowledgments would be beside such genial hospitality as +yours, is nothing. To say that in this winter season, +flowers have sprung up in every footstep’s length of the +path which has brought me here; that no country ever smiled more +pleasantly than yours has smiled on me, and that I have rarely +looked upon a brighter summer prospect than that which lies +before me now, <a name="citation63"></a><a href="#footnote63" +class="citation">[63]</a> is nothing.</p> +<p>But it is something to be no stranger in a strange +place—to feel, sitting at a board for the first time, the +ease and affection of an old guest, and to be at once on such +intimate terms with the family as to have a homely, genuine +interest in its every member—it is, I say, something to be +in this novel and happy frame of mind. And, as it is of +your creation, and owes its being to you, I have no reluctance in +urging it as a reason why, in addressing you, I should not so +much consult the form and fashion of my speech, as I should +employ that universal language of the heart, which you, and such +as you, best teach, and best can understand. Gentlemen, in +that universal language—common to you in America, and to us +in England, as that younger mother-tongue, which, by the means +of, and through the happy union of our two great countries, shall +be spoken ages hence, by land and sea, over the wide surface of +the globe—I thank you.</p> +<p>I had occasion to say the other night in Boston, as I have +more than once had occasion to remark before, that it is not easy +for an author to speak of his own books. If the task be a +difficult one at any time, its difficulty, certainly, is not +diminished when a frequent recurrence to the same theme has left +one nothing new to say. Still, I feel that, in a company +like this, and especially after what has been said by the +President, that I ought not to pass lightly over those labours of +love, which, if they had no other merit, have been the happy +means of bringing us together.</p> +<p>It has been often observed, that you cannot judge of an +author’s personal character from his writings. It may +be that you cannot. I think it very likely, for many +reasons, that you cannot. But, at least, a reader will rise +from the perusal of a book with some defined and tangible idea of +the writer’s moral creed and broad purposes, if he has any +at all; and it is probable enough that he may like to have this +idea confirmed from the author’s lips, or dissipated by his +explanation. Gentlemen, my moral creed—which is a +very wide and comprehensive one, and includes all sects and +parties—is very easily summed up. I have faith, and I +wish to diffuse faith in the existence—yes, of beautiful +things, even in those conditions of society, which are so +degenerate, degraded, and forlorn, that, at first sight, it would +seem as though they could not be described but by a strange and +terrible reversal of the words of Scripture, “God said, Let +there be light, and there was none.” I take it that +we are born, and that we hold our sympathies, hopes, and +energies, in trust for the many, and not for the few. That +we cannot hold in too strong a light of disgust and contempt, +before the view of others, all meanness, falsehood, cruelty, and +oppression, of every grade and kind. Above all, that +nothing is high, because it is in a high place; and that nothing +is low, because it is in a low one. This is the lesson +taught us in the great book of nature. This is the lesson +which may be read, alike in the bright track of the stars, and in +the dusty course of the poorest thing that drags its tiny length +upon the ground. This is the lesson ever uppermost in the +thoughts of that inspired man, who tells us that there are</p> +<blockquote><p>“Tongues in the trees, books in the running +brooks,<br /> +Sermons in stones, and good in everything.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Gentlemen, keeping these objects steadily before me, I am at +no loss to refer your favour and your generous hospitality back +to the right source. While I know, on the one hand, that +if, instead of being what it is, this were a land of tyranny and +wrong, I should care very little for your smiles or frowns, so I +am sure upon the other, that if, instead of being what I am, I +were the greatest genius that ever trod the earth, and had +diverted myself for the oppression and degradation of mankind, +you would despise and reject me. I hope you will, whenever, +through such means, I give you the opportunity. Trust me, +that, whenever you give me the like occasion, I will return the +compliment with interest.</p> +<p>Gentlemen, as I have no secrets from you, in the spirit of +confidence you have engendered between us, and as I have made a +kind of compact with myself that I never will, while I remain in +America, omit an opportunity of referring to a topic in which I +and all others of my class on both sides of the water are equally +interested—equally interested, there is no difference +between us, I would beg leave to whisper in your ear two words: +<i>International Copyright</i>. I use them in no sordid +sense, believe me, and those who know me best, best know +that. For myself, I would rather that my children, coming +after me, trudged in the mud, and knew by the general feeling of +society that their father was beloved, and had been of some use, +than I would have them ride in their carriages, and know by their +banker’s books that he was rich. But I do not see, I +confess, why one should be obliged to make the choice, or why +fame, besides playing that delightful <i>reveil</i> for which she +is so justly celebrated, should not blow out of her trumpet a few +notes of a different kind from those with which she has hitherto +contented herself.</p> +<p>It was well observed the other night by a beautiful speaker, +whose words went to the heart of every man who heard him, that, +if there had existed any law in this respect, Scott might not +have sunk beneath the mighty pressure on his brain, but might +have lived to add new creatures of his fancy to the crowd which +swarm about you in your summer walks, and gather round your +winter evening hearths.</p> +<p>As I listened to his words, there came back, fresh upon me, +that touching scene in the great man’s life, when he lay +upon his couch, surrounded by his family, and listened, for the +last time, to the rippling of the river he had so well loved, +over its stony bed. I pictured him to myself, faint, wan, +dying, crushed both in mind and body by his honourable struggle, +and hovering round him the phantoms of his own +imagination—Waverley, Ravenswood, Jeanie Deans, Rob Roy, +Caleb Balderstone, Dominie Sampson—all the familiar +throng—with cavaliers, and Puritans, and Highland chiefs +innumerable overflowing the chamber, and fading away in the dim +distance beyond. I pictured them, fresh from traversing the +world, and hanging down their heads in shame and sorrow, that, +from all those lands into which they had carried gladness, +instruction, and delight for millions, they brought him not one +friendly hand to help to raise him from that sad, sad bed. +No, nor brought him from that land in which his own language was +spoken, and in every house and hut of which his own books were +read in his own tongue, one grateful dollar-piece to buy a +garland for his grave. Oh! if every man who goes from here, +as many do, to look upon that tomb in Dryburgh Abbey, would but +remember this, and bring the recollection home!</p> +<p>Gentlemen, I thank you again, and once again, and many times +to that. You have given me a new reason for remembering +this day, which is already one of mark in my calendar, it being +my birthday; and you have given those who are nearest and dearest +to me a new reason for recollecting it with pride and +interest. Heaven knows that, although I should grow ever so +gray, I shall need nothing to remind me of this epoch in my +life. But I am glad to think that from this time you are +inseparably connected with every recurrence of this day; and, +that on its periodical return, I shall always, in imagination, +have the unfading pleasure of entertaining you as my guests, in +return for the gratification you have afforded me to-night.</p> +<h2><a name="page58"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 58</span>V.<br +/> +NEW YORK, FEBRUARY 18, 1842.</h2> +<p class="gutsumm">[At a dinner presided over by Washington +Irving, when nearly eight hundred of the most distinguished +citizens of New York were present, “Charles Dickens, the +Literary Guest of the Nation,” having been “proferred +as a sentiment” by the Chairman, Mr. Dickens rose, and +spoke as follows:]</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Gentlemen</span>,—I don’t know +how to thank you—I really don’t know how. You +would naturally suppose that my former experience would have +given me this power, and that the difficulties in my way would +have been diminished; but I assure you the fact is exactly the +reverse, and I have completely baulked the ancient proverb that +“a rolling stone gathers no moss;” and in my progress +to this city I have collected such a weight of obligations and +acknowledgment—I have picked up such an enormous mass of +fresh moss at every point, and was so struck by the brilliant +scenes of Monday night, that I thought I could never by any +possibility grow any bigger. I have made, continually, new +accumulations to such an extent that I am compelled to stand +still, and can roll no more!</p> +<p>Gentlemen, we learn from the authorities, that, when fairy +stories, or balls, or rolls of thread, stopped of their own +accord—as I do not—it presaged some great catastrophe +near at hand. The precedent holds good in this case. When I +have remembered the short time I have before me to spend in this +land of mighty interests, and the poor opportunity I can at best +have of acquiring a knowledge of, and forming an acquaintance +with it, I have felt it almost a duty to decline the honours you +so generously heap upon me, and pass more quietly among +you. For Argus himself, though he had but one mouth for his +hundred eyes, would have found the reception of a public +entertainment once a-week too much for his greatest activity; +and, as I would lose no scrap of the rich instruction and the +delightful knowledge which meet me on every hand, (and already I +have gleaned a great deal from your hospitals and common +jails),—I have resolved to take up my staff, and go my way +rejoicing, and for the future to shake hands with America, not at +parties but at home; and, therefore, gentlemen, I say to-night, +with a full heart, and an honest purpose, and grateful feelings, +that I bear, and shall ever bear, a deep sense of your kind, your +affectionate and your noble greeting, which it is utterly +impossible to convey in words. No European sky without, and +no cheerful home or well-warmed room within shall ever shut out +this land from my vision. I shall often hear your words of +welcome in my quiet room, and oftenest when most quiet; and shall +see your faces in the blazing fire. If I should live to +grow old, the scenes of this and other evenings will shine as +brightly to my dull eyes fifty years hence as now; and the +honours you bestow upon me shall be well remembered and paid back +in my undying love, and honest endeavours for the good of my +race.</p> +<p>Gentlemen, one other word with reference to this first person +singular, and then I shall close. I came here in an open, +honest, and confiding spirit, if ever man did, and because I felt +a deep sympathy in your land; had I felt otherwise, I should have +kept away. As I came here, and am here, without the least +admixture of one-hundredth part of one grain of base alloy, +without one feeling of unworthy reference to self in any respect, +I claim, in regard to the past, for the last time, my right in +reason, in truth, and in justice, to approach, as I have done on +two former occasions, a question of literary interest. I +claim that justice be done; and I prefer this claim as one who +has a right to speak and be heard. I have only to add that +I shall be as true to you as you have been to me. I +recognize in your enthusiastic approval of the creatures of my +fancy, your enlightened care for the happiness of the many, your +tender regard for the afflicted, your sympathy for the downcast, +your plans for correcting and improving the bad, and for +encouraging the good; and to advance these great objects shall +be, to the end of my life, my earnest endeavour, to the extent of +my humble ability. Having said thus much with reference to +myself, I shall have the pleasure of saying a few words with +reference to somebody else.</p> +<p>There is in this city a gentleman who, at the reception of one +of my books—I well remember it was the Old Curiosity +Shop—wrote to me in England a letter so generous, so +affectionate, and so manly, that if I had written the book under +every circumstance of disappointment, of discouragement, and +difficulty, instead of the reverse, I should have found in the +receipt of that letter my best and most happy reward. I +answered him, <a name="citation70"></a><a href="#footnote70" +class="citation">[70]</a> and he answered me, and so we kept +shaking hands autographically, as if no ocean rolled between +us. I came here to this city eager to see him, and +[<i>laying his hand it upon Irving’s shoulder</i>] here he +sits! I need not tell you how happy and delighted I am to +see him here to-night in this capacity.</p> +<p>Washington Irving! Why, gentlemen, I don’t go +upstairs to bed two nights out of the seven—as a very +creditable witness near at hand can testify—I say I do not +go to bed two nights out of the seven without taking Washington +Irving under my arm; and, when I don’t take him, I take his +own brother, Oliver Goldsmith. Washington Irving! +Why, of whom but him was I thinking the other day when I came up +by the Hog’s Back, the Frying Pan, Hell Gate, and all these +places? Why, when, not long ago, I visited +Shakespeare’s birthplace, and went beneath the roof where +he first saw light, whose name but <i>his</i> was pointed out to +me upon the wall? Washington Irving—Diedrich +Knickerbocker—Geoffrey Crayon—why, where can you go +that they have not been there before? Is there an English +farm—is there an English stream, an English city, or an +English country-seat, where they have not been? Is there no +Bracebridge Hall in existence? Has it no ancient shades or +quiet streets?</p> +<p>In bygone times, when Irving left that Hall, he left sitting +in an old oak chair, in a small parlour of the Boar’s Head, +a little man with a red nose, and an oilskin hat. When I +came away he was sitting there still!—not a man <i>like</i> +him, but the same man—with the nose of immortal redness and +the hat of an undying glaze! Crayon, while there, was on +terms of intimacy with a certain radical fellow, who used to go +about, with a hatful of newspapers, wofully out at elbows, and +with a coat of great antiquity. Why, gentlemen, I know that +man—Tibbles the elder, and he has not changed a hair; and, +when I came away, he charged me to give his best respects to +Washington Irving!</p> +<p>Leaving the town and the rustic life of +England—forgetting this man, if we can—putting out of +mind the country church-yard and the broken heart—let us +cross the water again, and ask who has associated himself most +closely with the Italian peasantry and the bandits of the +Pyrenees? When the traveller enters his little chamber +beyond the Alps—listening to the dim echoes of the long +passages and spacious corridors—damp, and gloomy, and +cold—as he hears the tempest beating with fury against his +window, and gazes at the curtains, dark, and heavy, and covered +with mould—and when all the ghost-stories that ever were +told come up before him—amid all his thick-coming fancies, +whom does he think of? Washington Irving.</p> +<p>Go farther still: go to the Moorish Mountains, sparkling full +in the moonlight—go among the water-carriers and the +village gossips, living still as in days of old—and who has +travelled among them before you, and peopled the Alhambra and +made eloquent its shadows? Who awakes there a voice from +every hill and in every cavern, and bids legends, which for +centuries have slept a dreamless sleep, or watched unwinkingly, +start up and pass before you in all their life and glory?</p> +<p>But leaving this again, who embarked with Columbus upon his +gallant ship, traversed with him the dark and mighty ocean, +leaped upon the land and planted there the flag of Spain, but +this same man, now sitting by my side? And being here at +home again, who is a more fit companion for money-diggers? and +what pen but his has made Rip Van Winkle, playing at nine-pins on +that thundering afternoon, as much part and parcel of the +Catskill Mountains as any tree or crag that they can boast?</p> +<p>But these are topics familiar from my boyhood, and which I am +apt to pursue; and lest I should be tempted now to talk too long +about them, I will, in conclusion, give you a sentiment, most +appropriate, I am sure, in the presence of such writers as +Bryant, Halleck, and—but I suppose I must not mention the +ladies here—</p> +<p style="text-align: center"><span class="smcap">The Literature +of America</span>:</p> +<p>She well knows how to do honour to her own literature and to +that of other lands, when she chooses Washington Irving for her +representative in the country of Cervantes.</p> +<h2><a name="page74"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 74</span>VI.<br +/> +MANCHESTER, OCTOBER 5, 1843.</h2> +<p class="gutsumm">[This address was delivered at a soirée +of the members of the Manchester, Athenæum, at which Mr. +Dickens presided. Among the other speakers on the occasion +were Mr. Cobden and Mr. Disraeli.]</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Ladies and gentlemen</span>,—I am +sure I need scarcely tell you that I am very proud and happy; and +that I take it as a great distinction to be asked to come amongst +you on an occasion such as this, when, even with the brilliant +and beautiful spectacle which I see before me, I can hail it as +the most brilliant and beautiful circumstance of all, that we +assemble together here, even here, upon neutral ground, where we +have no more knowledge of party difficulties, or public +animosities between side and side, or between man and man, than +if we were a public meeting in the commonwealth of Utopia.</p> +<p>Ladies and gentlemen, upon this, and upon a hundred other +grounds, this assembly is not less interesting to me, believe +me—although, personally, almost a stranger here—than +it is interesting to you; and I take it, that it is not of +greater importance to all of us than it is to every man who has +learned to know that he has an interest in the moral and social +elevation, the harmless relaxation, the peace, happiness, and +improvement, of the community at large. Not even those who +saw the first foundation of your Athenæum laid, and watched +its progress, as I know they did, almost as tenderly as if it +were the progress of a living creature, until it reared its +beautiful front, an honour to the town—not even they, nor +even you who, within its walls, have tasted its usefulness, and +put it to the proof, have greater reason, I am persuaded, to +exult in its establishment, or to hope that it may thrive and +prosper, than scores of thousands at a distance, +who—whether consciously or unconsciously, matters +not—have, in the principle of its success and bright +example, a deep and personal concern.</p> +<p>It well becomes, particularly well becomes, this enterprising +town, this little world of labour, that she should stand out +foremost in the foremost rank in such a cause. It well +becomes her, that, among her numerous and noble public +institutions, she should have a splendid temple sacred to the +education and improvement of a large class of those who, in their +various useful stations, assist in the production of our wealth, +and in rendering her name famous through the world. I think +it is grand to know, that, while her factories re-echo with the +clanking of stupendous engines, and the whirl and rattle of +machinery, the immortal mechanism of God’s own hand, the +mind, is not forgotten in the din and uproar, but is lodged and +tended in a palace of its own. That it is a structure +deeply fixed and rooted in the public spirit of this place, and +built to last, I have no more doubt, judging from the spectacle I +see before me, and from what I know of its brief history, than I +have of the reality of these walls that hem us in, and the +pillars that spring up about us.</p> +<p>You are perfectly well aware, I have no doubt, that the +Athenæum was projected at a time when commerce was in a +vigorous and flourishing condition, and when those classes of +society to which it particularly addresses itself were fully +employed, and in the receipt of regular incomes. A season +of depression almost without a parallel ensued, and large numbers +of young men employed in warehouses and offices suddenly found +their occupation gone, and themselves reduced to very straitened +and penurious circumstances. This altered state of things +led, as I am told, to the compulsory withdrawal of many of the +members, to a proportionate decrease in the expected funds, and +to the incurrence of a debt of £3,000. By the very +great zeal and energy of all concerned, and by the liberality of +those to whom they applied for help, that debt is now in rapid +course of being discharged. A little more of the same +indefatigable exertion on the one hand, and a little more of the +same community of feeling upon the other, and there will be no +such thing; the figures will be blotted out for good and all, +and, from that time, the Athenæum may be said to belong to +you, and to your heirs for ever.</p> +<p>But, ladies and gentlemen, at all times, now in its most +thriving, and in its least flourishing condition—here, with +its cheerful rooms, its pleasant and instructive lectures, its +improving library of 6,000 volumes, its classes for the study of +the foreign languages, elocution, music; its opportunities of +discussion and debate, of healthful bodily exercise, and, though +last not least—for by this I set great store, as a very +novel and excellent provision—its opportunities of +blameless, rational enjoyment, here it is, open to every youth +and man in this great town, accessible to every bee in this vast +hive, who, for all these benefits, and the inestimable ends to +which they lead, can set aside one sixpence weekly. I do +look upon the reduction of the subscription, and upon the fact +that the number of members has considerably more than doubled +within the last twelve months, as strides in the path of the very +best civilization, and chapters of rich promise in the history of +mankind.</p> +<p>I do not know whether, at this time of day, and with such a +prospect before us, we need trouble ourselves very much to rake +up the ashes of the dead-and-gone objections that were wont to be +urged by men of all parties against institutions such as this, +whose interests we are met to promote; but their philosophy was +always to be summed up in the unmeaning application of one short +sentence. How often have we heard from a large class of men +wise in their generation, who would really seem to be born and +bred for no other purpose than to pass into currency counterfeit +and mischievous scraps of wisdom, as it is the sole pursuit of +some other criminals to utter base coin—how often have we +heard from them, as an all-convincing argument, that “a +little learning is a dangerous thing?” Why, a little +hanging was considered a very dangerous thing, according to the +same authorities, with this difference, that, because a little +hanging was dangerous, we had a great deal of it; and, because a +little learning was dangerous, we were to have none at all. +Why, when I hear such cruel absurdities gravely reiterated, I do +sometimes begin to doubt whether the parrots of society are not +more pernicious to its interests than its birds of prey. I +should be glad to hear such people’s estimate of the +comparative danger of “a little learning” and a vast +amount of ignorance; I should be glad to know which they consider +the most prolific parent of misery and crime. Descending a +little lower in the social scale, I should be glad to assist them +in their calculations, by carrying them into certain gaols and +nightly refuges I know of, where my own heart dies within me, +when I see thousands of immortal creatures condemned, without +alternative or choice, to tread, not what our great poet calls +the “primrose path” to the everlasting bonfire, but +one of jaded flints and stones, laid down by brutal ignorance, +and held together, like the solid rocks, by years of this most +wicked axiom.</p> +<p>Would we know from any honourable body of merchants, upright +in deed and thought, whether they would rather have ignorant or +enlightened persons in their own employment? Why, we have +had their answer in this building; we have it in this company; we +have it emphatically given in the munificent generosity of your +own merchants of Manchester, of all sects and kinds, when this +establishment was first proposed. But are the advantages +derivable by the people from institutions such as this, only of a +negative character? If a little learning be an innocent +thing, has it no distinct, wholesome, and immediate influence +upon the mind? The old doggerel rhyme, so often written in +the beginning of books, says that</p> +<blockquote><p>“When house and lands are gone and spent,<br +/> +Then learning is most excellent;”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>but I should be strongly disposed to reform the adage, and say +that</p> +<blockquote><p>“Though house and lands be never got,<br /> +Learning can give what they can<i>not</i>.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>And this I know, that the first unpurchasable blessing earned +by every man who makes an effort to improve himself in such a +place as the Athenæum, is self-respect—an inward +dignity of character, which, once acquired and righteously +maintained, nothing—no, not the hardest drudgery, nor the +direst poverty—can vanquish. Though he should find it +hard for a season even to keep the wolf—hunger—from +his door, let him but once have chased the +dragon—ignorance—from his hearth, and self-respect +and hope are left him. You could no more deprive him of +those sustaining qualities by loss or destruction of his worldly +goods, than you could, by plucking out his eyes, take from him an +internal consciousness of the bright glory of the sun.</p> +<p>The man who lives from day to day by the daily exercise in his +sphere of hands or head, and seeks to improve himself in such a +place as the Athenæum, acquires for himself that property +of soul which has in all times upheld struggling men of every +degree, but self-made men especially and always. He secures +to himself that faithful companion which, while it has ever lent +the light of its countenance to men of rank and eminence who have +deserved it, has ever shed its brightest consolations on men of +low estate and almost hopeless means. It took its patient +seat beside Sir Walter Raleigh in his dungeon-study in the Tower; +it laid its head upon the block with More; but it did not disdain +to watch the stars with Ferguson, the shepherd’s boy; it +walked the streets in mean attire with Crabbe; it was a poor +barber here in Lancashire with Arkwright; it was a +tallow-chandler’s son with Franklin; it worked at +shoemaking with Bloomfield in his garret; it followed the plough +with Burns; and, high above the noise of loom and hammer, it +whispers courage even at this day in ears I could name in +Sheffield and in Manchester.</p> +<p>The more the man who improves his leisure in such a place +learns, the better, gentler, kinder man he must become. +When he knows how much great minds have suffered for the truth in +every age and time, and to what dismal persecutions opinion has +been exposed, he will become more tolerant of other men’s +belief in all matters, and will incline more leniently to their +sentiments when they chance to differ from his own. +Understanding that the relations between himself and his +employers involve a mutual duty and responsibility, he will +discharge his part of the implied contract cheerfully, +satisfactorily, and honourably; for the history of every useful +life warns him to shape his course in that direction.</p> +<p>The benefits he acquires in such a place are not of a selfish +kind, but extend themselves to his home, and to those whom it +contains. Something of what he hears or reads within such +walls can scarcely fail to become at times a topic of discourse +by his own fireside, nor can it ever fail to lead to larger +sympathies with man, and to a higher veneration for the great +Creator of all the wonders of this universe. It appears to +his home and his homely feeling in other ways; for at certain +times he carries there his wife and daughter, or his sister, or, +possibly, some bright-eyed acquaintance of a more tender +description. Judging from what I see before me, I think it +is very likely; I am sure I would if I could. He takes her +there to enjoy a pleasant evening, to be gay and happy. +Sometimes it may possibly happen that he dates his tenderness +from the Athenæum. I think that is a very excellent +thing, too, and not the least among the advantages of the +institution. In any case, I am sure the number of bright +eyes and beaming faces which grace this meeting to-night by their +presence, will never be among the least of its excellences in my +recollection.</p> +<p>Ladies and gentlemen, I shall not easily forget this scene, +the pleasing task your favour has devolved upon me, or the strong +and inspiring confirmation I have to-night, of all the hopes and +reliances I have ever placed upon institutions of this +nature. In the latter point of view—in their bearing +upon this latter point—I regard them as of great +importance, deeming that the more intelligent and reflective +society in the mass becomes, and the more readers there are, the +more distinctly writers of all kinds will be able to throw +themselves upon the truthful feeling of the people and the more +honoured and the more useful literature must be. At the +same time, I must confess that, if there had been an +Athenæum, and if the people had been readers, years ago, +some leaves of dedication in your library, of praise of patrons +which was very cheaply bought, very dearly sold, and very +marketably haggled for by the groat, would be blank leaves, and +posterity might probably have lacked the information that certain +monsters of virtue ever had existence. But it is upon a +much better and wider scale, let me say it once again—it is +in the effect of such institutions upon the great social system, +and the peace and happiness of mankind, that I delight to +contemplate them; and, in my heart, I am quite certain that long +after your institution, and others of the same nature, have +crumbled into dust, the noble harvest of the seed sown in them +will shine out brightly in the wisdom, the mercy, and the +forbearance of another race.</p> +<h2><a name="page82"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +82</span>VII.<br /> +LIVERPOOL, FEBRUARY 26, 1844.</h2> +<p class="gutsumm">[The following address was delivered at a +soirée of the Liverpool Mechanics’ Institution, at +which Mr. Dickens presided.]</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Ladies and gentlemen</span>,—It was +rather hard of you to take away my breath before I spoke a word; +but I would not thank you, even if I could, for the favour which +has set me in this place, or for the generous kindness which has +greeted me so warmly,—because my first strong impulse still +would be, although I had that power, to lose sight of all +personal considerations in the high intent and meaning of this +numerous assemblage, in the contemplation of the noble objects to +which this building is devoted, of its brilliant and inspiring +history, of that rough, upward track, so bravely trodden, which +it leaves behind, and that bright path of steadily-increasing +usefulness which lies stretched out before it. My first +strong impulse still would be to exchange congratulations with +you, as the members of one united family, on the thriving vigour +of this strongest child of a strong race. My first strong +impulse still would be, though everybody here had twice as many +hundreds of hands as there are hundreds of persons present, to +shake them in the spirit, everyone, always, allow me to say, +excepting those hands (and there are a few such here), which, +with the constitutional infirmity of human nature, I would rather +salute in some more tender fashion.</p> +<p>When I first had the honour of communicating with your +Committee with reference to this celebration, I had some selfish +hopes that the visit proposed to me might turn out to be one of +congratulation, or, at least, of solicitous inquiry; for they who +receive a visitor in any season of distress are easily touched +and moved by what he says, and I entertained some confident +expectation of making a mighty strong impression on you. +But, when I came to look over the printed documents which were +forwarded to me at the same time, and with which you are all +tolerably familiar, these anticipations very speedily vanished, +and left me bereft of all consolation, but the triumphant feeling +to which I have referred. For what do I find, on looking +over those brief chronicles of this swift conquest over ignorance +and prejudice, in which no blood has been poured out, and no +treaty signed but that one sacred compact which recognises the +just right of every man, whatever his belief, or however humble +his degree, to aspire, and to have some means of aspiring, to be +a better and a wiser man? I find that, in 1825, certain +misguided and turbulent persons proposed to erect in Liverpool an +unpopular, dangerous, irreligious, and revolutionary +establishment, called a Mechanics’ Institution; that, in +1835, Liverpool having, somehow or other, got on pretty +comfortably in the meantime, in spite of it, the first stone of a +new and spacious edifice was laid; that, in 1837, it was opened; +that, it was afterwards, at different periods, considerably +enlarged; that, in 1844, conspicuous amongst the public beauties +of a beautiful town, here it stands triumphant, its enemies lived +down, its former students attesting, in their various useful +callings and pursuits, the sound, practical information it +afforded them; its members numbering considerably more than +3,000, and setting in rapidly for 6,000 at least; its library +comprehending 11,000 volumes, and daily sending forth its +hundreds of books into private homes; its staff of masters and +officers, amounting to half-a-hundred in themselves; its schools, +conveying every sort of instruction, high and low, adapted to the +labour, means, exigencies, and convenience of nearly every class +and grade of persons. I was here this morning, and in its +spacious halls I found stores of the wonders worked by nature in +the air, in the forest, in the cavern, and in the +sea—stores of the surpassing engines devised by science for +the better knowledge of other worlds, and the greater happiness +of this—stores of those gentler works of art, which, though +achieved in perishable stone, by yet more perishable hands of +dust, are in their influence immortal. With such means at +their command, so well-directed, so cheaply shared, and so +extensively diffused, well may your Committee say, as they have +done in one of their Reports, that the success of this +establishment has far exceeded their most sanguine +expectations.</p> +<p>But, ladies and gentlemen, as that same philosopher whose +words they quote, as Bacon tells us, instancing the wonderful +effects of little things and small beginnings, that the influence +of the loadstone was first discovered in particles of iron, and +not in iron bars, so they may lay it to their hearts, that when +they combined together to form the institution which has risen to +this majestic height, they issued on a field of enterprise, the +glorious end of which they cannot even now discern. Every +man who has felt the advantages of, or has received improvement +in this place, carries its benefits into the society in which he +moves, and puts them out at compound interest; and what the +blessed sum may be at last, no man can tell. Ladies and +gentlemen, with that Christian prelate whose name appears on your +list of honorary Members; that good and liberal man who once +addressed you within these walls, in a spirit worthy of his +calling, and of his High Master—I look forward from this +place, as from a tower, to the time when high and low, and rich +and poor, shall mutually assist, improve, and educate each +other.</p> +<p>I feel, ladies and gentlemen, that this is not a place, with +its 3,200 members, and at least 3,200 arguments in every one, to +enter on any advocacy of the principle of Mechanics’ +Institutions, or to discuss the subject with those who do or ever +did object to them. I should as soon think of arguing the +point with those untutored savages whose mode of life you last +year had the opportunity of witnessing; indeed, I am strongly +inclined to believe them by far the more rational class of the +two. Moreover, if the institution itself be not a +sufficient answer to all such objections, then there is no such +thing in fact or reason, human or divine. Neither will I +venture to enter into those details of the management of this +place which struck me most on the perusal of its papers; but I +cannot help saying how much impressed and gratified I was, as +everybody must be who comes to their perusal for the first time, +by the extraordinary munificence with which this institution has +been endowed by certain gentlemen.</p> +<p>Amongst the peculiar features of management which made the +greatest impression on me, I may observe that that regulation +which empowers fathers, being annual subscribers of one guinea, +to introduce their sons who are minors; and masters, on payment +of the astoundingly small sum of five shillings annually, in like +manner their apprentices, is not the least valuable of its +privileges; and, certainly not the one least valuable to +society. And, ladies and gentlemen, I cannot say to you +what pleasure I derived from the perusal of an apparently +excellent report in your local papers of a meeting held here some +short time since, in aid of the formation of a girls’ +school in connexion with this institution. This is a new +and striking chapter in the history of these institutions; it +does equal credit to the gallantry and policy of this, and +disposes one to say of it with a slight parody on the words of +Burns, that</p> +<blockquote><p>“Its ’prentice han’ it tried on +man,<br /> +And then it <i>taught</i> the lasses, O.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>That those who are our best teachers, and whose lessons are +oftenest heeded in after life, should be well taught themselves, +is a proposition few reasonable men will gainsay; and, certainly, +to breed up good husbands on the one hand, and good wives on the +other, does appear as reasonable and straightforward a plan as +could well be devised for the improvement of the next +generation.</p> +<p>This, and what I see before me, naturally brings me to our +fairer members, in respect of whom I have no doubt you will agree +with me, that they ought to be admitted to the widest possible +extent, and on the lowest possible terms; and, ladies, let me +venture to say to you, that you never did a wiser thing in all +your lives than when you turned your favourable regard on such an +establishment as this—for wherever the light of knowledge +is diffused, wherever the humanizing influence of the arts and +sciences extends itself, wherever there is the clearest +perception of what is beautiful, and good, and most redeeming, +amid all the faults and vices of mankind, there your character, +your virtues, your graces, your better nature, will be the best +appreciated, and there the truest homage will be proudly paid to +you. You show best, trust me, in the clearest light; and +every ray that falls upon you at your own firesides, from any +book or thought communicated within these walls, will raise you +nearer to the angels in the eyes you care for most.</p> +<p>I will not longer interpose myself, ladies and gentlemen, +between you and the pleasure we all anticipate in hearing other +gentlemen, and in enjoying those social pleasures with which it +is a main part of the wisdom of this society to adorn and relieve +its graver pursuits. We all feel, I am sure, being here, +that we are truly interested in the cause of human improvement +and rational education, and that we pledge ourselves, everyone as +far as in him lies, to extend the knowledge of the benefits +afforded in this place, and to bear honest witness in its +favour. To those who yet remain without its walls, but have +the means of purchasing its advantages, we make appeal, and in a +friendly and forbearing spirit say, “Come in, and be +convinced—</p> +<blockquote><p>‘Who enters here, leaves <i>doubt</i> +behind.’”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>If you, happily, have been well taught yourself, and are +superior to its advantages, so much the more should you make one +in sympathy with those who are below you. Beneath this roof +we breed the men who, in the time to come, must be found working +for good or evil, in every quarter of society. If mutual +respect and forbearance among various classes be not found here, +where so many men are trained up in so many grades, to enter on +so many roads of life, dating their entry from one common +starting-point, as they are all approaching, by various paths, +one common end, where else can that great lesson be +imbibed? Differences of wealth, of rank, of intellect, we +know there must be, and we respect them; but we would give to all +the means of taking out one patent of nobility, and we define it, +in the words of a great living poet, who is one of us, and who +uses his great gifts, as he holds them in trust, for the general +welfare—</p> +<blockquote><p>“Howe’er it be, it seems to me<br /> +’Tis only noble to be good:<br /> +True hearts are more than coronets,<br /> +And simple faith than Norman blood.” <a +name="citation88"></a><a href="#footnote88" +class="citation">[88]</a></p> +</blockquote> +<h2><a name="page89"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +89</span>VIII.<br /> +BIRMINGHAM, FEBRUARY 28, 1844.</h2> +<p class="gutsumm">[The following speech was delivered at a +Conversazione, in aid of the funds of the Birmingham Polytechnic +Institution, at which Mr Dickens presided.]</p> +<p><span class="smcap">You</span> will think it very unwise, or +very self-denying in me, in such an assembly, in such a splendid +scene, and after such a welcome, to congratulate myself on having +nothing new to say to you: but I do so, notwithstanding. To +say nothing of places nearer home, I had the honour of attending +at Manchester, shortly before Christmas, and at Liverpool, only +the night before last, for a purpose similar to that which brings +you together this evening; and looking down a short perspective +of similar engagements, I feel gratification at the thought that +I shall very soon have nothing at all to say; in which case, I +shall be content to stake my reputation, like the Spectator of +Addison, and that other great periodical speaker, the Speaker of +the House of Commons, on my powers of listening.</p> +<p>This feeling, and the earnest reception I have met with, are +not the only reasons why I feel a genuine, cordial, and peculiar +interest in this night’s proceedings. The Polytechnic +Institution of Birmingham is in its infancy—struggling into +life under all those adverse and disadvantageous circumstances +which, to a greater or less extent, naturally beset all infancy; +but I would much rather connect myself with it now, however +humble, in its days of difficulty and of danger, than look back +on its origin when it may have become strong, and rich, and +powerful. I should prefer an intimate association with it +now, in its early days and apparent struggles, to becoming its +advocate and acquaintance, its fair-weather friend, in its high +and palmy days. I would rather be able to say I knew it in +its swaddling-clothes, than in maturer age. Its two elder +brothers have grown old and died: their chests were +weak—about their cradles nurses shook their heads, and +gossips groaned; but the present institution shot up, amidst the +ruin of those which have fallen, with an indomitable +constitution, with vigorous and with steady pulse; temperate, +wise, and of good repute; and by perseverance it has become a +very giant. Birmingham is, in my mind and in the minds of +most men, associated with many giants; and I no more believe that +this young institution will turn out sickly, dwarfish, or of +stunted growth, than I do that when the glass-slipper of my +chairmanship shall fall off, and the clock strike twelve +to-night, this hall will be turned into a pumpkin. I found +that strong belief upon the splendid array of grace and beauty by +which I am surrounded, and which, if it only had one-hundredth +part of the effect upon others it has upon me, could do anything +it pleased with anything and anybody. I found my strong +conviction, in the second place, upon the public spirit of the +town of Birmingham—upon the name and fame of its +capitalists and working men; upon the greatness and importance of +its merchants and manufacturers; upon its inventions, which are +constantly in progress; upon the skill and intelligence of its +artisans, which are daily developed; and the increasing knowledge +of all portions of the community. All these reasons lead me +to the conclusion that your institution will advance—that +it will and must progress, and that you will not be content with +lingering leagues behind.</p> +<p>I have another peculiar ground of satisfaction in connexion +with the object of this assembly; and it is, that the resolutions +about to be proposed do not contain in themselves anything of a +sectarian or class nature; that they do not confine themselves to +any one single institution, but assert the great and omnipotent +principles of comprehensive education everywhere and under every +circumstance. I beg leave to say that I concur, heart and +hand, in those principles, and will do all in my power for their +advancement; for I hold, in accordance with the imperfect +knowledge which I possess, that it is impossible for any fabric +of society to go on day after day, and year after year, from +father to son, and from grandfather to grandson, punishing men +for not engaging in the pursuit of virtue and for the practice of +crime, without showing them what virtue is, and where it best can +be found—in justice, religion, and truth. The only +reason that can possibly be adduced against it is one founded on +fiction—namely, the case where an obdurate old geni, in the +“Arabian Nights,” was bound upon taking the life of a +merchant, because he had struck out the eye of his invisible +son. I recollect, likewise, a tale in the same book of +charming fancies, which I consider not inappropriate: it is a +case where a powerful spirit has been imprisoned at the bottom of +the sea, in a casket with a leaden cover, and the seal of Solomon +upon it; there he had lain neglected for many centuries, and +during that period had made many different vows: at first, that +he would reward magnificently those who should release him; and +at last, that he would destroy them. Now, there is a spirit +of great power—the Spirit of Ignorance—which is shut +up in a vessel of leaden composition, and sealed with the seal of +many, many Solomons, and which is effectually in the same +position: release it in time, and it will bless, restore, and +reanimate society; but let it lie under the rolling waves of +years, and its blind revenge is sure to lead to certain +destruction. That there are classes which, if rightly +treated, constitute strength, and if wrongly, weakness, I hold it +impossible to deny—by these classes I mean industrious, +intelligent, and honourably independent men, in whom the higher +classes of Birmingham are especially interested, and bound to +afford them the means of instruction and improvement, and to +ameliorate their mental and moral condition. Far be it from +me (and I wish to be most particularly understood) to attempt to +depreciate the excellent Church Instruction Societies, or the +worthy, sincere, and temperate zeal of those reverend gentlemen +by whom they are usually conducted; on the contrary, I believe +that they have done, and are doing, much good, and are deserving +of high praise; but I hope that, without offence, in a community +such as Birmingham, there are other objects not unworthy in the +sight of heaven, and objects of recognised utility which are +worthy of support—principles which are practised in word +and deed in Polytechnic Institutions—principles for the +diffusion of which honest men of all degrees and of every creed +might associate together, on an independent footing and on +neutral ground, and at a small expense, for the better +understanding and the greater consideration of each other, and +for the better cultivation of the happiness of all: for it surely +cannot be allowed that those who labour day by day, surrounded by +machinery, shall be permitted to degenerate into machines +themselves, but, on the contrary, they should assert their common +origin from their Creator, at the hands of those who are +responsible and thinking men. There is, indeed, no +difference in the main with respect to the dangers of ignorance +and the advantages of knowledge between those who hold different +opinions—for it is to be observed, that those who are most +distrustful of the advantages of education, are always the first +to exclaim against the results of ignorance. This fact was +pleasantly illustrated on the railway, as I came here. In +the same carriage with me there sat an ancient gentleman (I feel +no delicacy in alluding to him, for I know that he is not in the +room, having got out far short of Birmingham), who expressed +himself most mournfully as to the ruinous effects and rapid +spread of railways, and was most pathetic upon the virtues of the +slow-going old stage coaches. Now I, entertaining some +little lingering kindness for the road, made shift to express my +concurrence with the old gentleman’s opinion, without any +great compromise of principle. Well, we got on tolerably +comfortably together, and when the engine, with a frightful +screech, dived into some dark abyss, like some strange aquatic +monster, the old gentleman said it would never do, and I agreed +with him. When it parted from each successive station, with +a shock and a shriek as if it had had a double-tooth drawn, the +old gentleman shook his head, and I shook mine. When he +burst forth against such new-fangled notions, and said no good +could come of them, I did not contest the point. But I +found that when the speed of the engine was abated, or there was +a prolonged stay at any station, up the old gentleman was at +arms, and his watch was instantly out of his pocket, denouncing +the slowness of our progress. Now I could not help +comparing this old gentleman to that ingenious class of persons +who are in the constant habit of declaiming against the vices and +crimes of society, and at the same time are the first and +foremost to assert that vice and crime have not their common +origin in ignorance and discontent.</p> +<p>The good work, however, in spite of all political and party +differences, has been well begun; we are all interested in it; it +is advancing, and cannot be stopped by any opposition, although +it may be retarded in this place or in that, by the indifference +of the middle classes, with whom its successful progress chiefly +rests. Of this success I cannot entertain a doubt; for +whenever the working classes have enjoyed an opportunity of +effectually rebutting accusations which falsehood or +thoughtlessness have brought against them, they always avail +themselves of it, and show themselves in their true characters; +and it was this which made the damage done to a single picture in +the National Gallery of London, by some poor lunatic or cripple, +a mere matter of newspaper notoriety and wonder for some few +days. This, then, establishes a fact evident to the meanest +comprehension—that any given number of thousands of +individuals, in the humblest walks of life in this country, can +pass through the national galleries or museums in seasons of +holiday-making, without damaging, in the slightest degree, those +choice and valuable collections. I do not myself believe +that the working classes ever were the wanton or mischievous +persons they were so often and so long represented to be; but I +rather incline to the opinion that some men take it into their +heads to lay it down as a matter of fact, without being +particular about the premises; and that the idle and the +prejudiced, not wishing to have the trouble of forming opinions +for themselves, take it for granted—until the people have +an opportunity of disproving the stigma and vindicating +themselves before the world.</p> +<p>Now this assertion is well illustrated by what occurred +respecting an equestrian statue in the metropolis, with respect +to which a legend existed that the sculptor hanged himself, +because he had neglected to put a girth to the horse. This +story was currently believed for many years, until it was +inspected for altogether a different purpose, and it was found to +have had a girth all the time.</p> +<p>But surely if, as is stated, the people are ill-disposed and +mischievous, that is the best reason that can be offered for +teaching them better; and if they are not, surely that is a +reason for giving them every opportunity of vindicating their +injured reputation; and no better opportunity could possibly be +afforded than that of associating together voluntarily for such +high purposes as it is proposed to carry out by the establishment +of the Birmingham Polytechnic Institution. In any +case—nay, in every case—if we would reward honesty, +if we would hold out encouragement to good, if we would eradicate +that which is evil or correct that which is bad, +education—comprehensive, liberal education—is the one +thing needful, and the only effective end. If I might apply +to my purpose, and turn into plain prose some words of +Hamlet—not with reference to any government or party (for +party being, for the most part, an irrational sort of thing, has +no connexion with the object we have in view)—if I might +apply those words to education as Hamlet applied them to the +skull of Yorick, I would say—“Now hie thee to the +council-chamber, and tell them, though they lay it on in sounding +thoughts and learned words an inch thick, to this complexion they +must come at last.”</p> + +<div class="gapshortline"> </div> +<p>In answer to a vote of thanks, <a name="citation95"></a><a +href="#footnote95" class="citation">[95]</a> Mr. Dickens said, at +the close of the meeting—</p> +<p>Ladies and gentlemen, we are now quite even—for every +effect which I may have made upon you, the compliment has been +amply returned to me; but at the same time I am as little +disposed to say to you, ‘go and sin no more,’ as I am +to promise for myself that ‘I will never do so +again.’ So long as I can make you laugh and cry, I +will; and you will readily believe me, when I tell you, you +cannot do too much on your parts to show that we are still +cordial and loving friends. To you, ladies of the +Institution, I am deeply and especially indebted. I +sometimes [<i>pointing to the word</i> ‘<i>Boz</i>’ +<i>in front of the great gallery</i>] think there is some small +quantity of magic in that very short name, and that it must +consist in its containing as many letters as the three graces, +and they, every one of them, being of your fair sisterhood.</p> +<p>A story is told of an eastern potentate of modern times, who, +for an eastern potentate, was a tolerably good man, sometimes +bowstringing his dependants indiscriminately in his moments of +anger, but burying them in great splendour in his moments of +penitence, that whenever intelligence was brought him of a new +plot or turbulent conspiracy, his first inquiry was, ‘Who +is she?’ meaning that a woman was at the bottom. Now, +in my small way, I differ from that potentate; for when there is +any good to be attained, the services of any ministering angel +required, my first inquiry is, ‘Where is she?’ and +the answer invariably is, ‘Here.’ Proud and +happy am I indeed to thank you for your generosity—</p> +<blockquote><p>‘A thousand times, good night;<br /> +A thousand times the worse to want your light.’</p> +</blockquote> +<h2><a name="page97"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 97</span>IX.<br +/> +GARDENERS AND GARDENING.<br /> +LONDON, JUNE 14, 1852.</h2> +<p class="gutsumm">[The Ninth Anniversary Dinner of the +Gardeners’ Benevolent Institution was held on the above +date at the London Tavern. The company numbered more than +150. The dessert was worthy of the occasion, and an +admirable effect was produced by a profuse display of natural +flowers upon the tables and in the decoration of the room. +The chair was taken by Mr. Charles Dickens, who, in proposing the +toast of the evening, spoke as follows:—]</p> +<p><span class="smcap">For</span> three times three years the +Gardeners’ Benevolent Institution has been stimulated and +encouraged by meetings such as this, and by three times three +cheers we will urge it onward in its prosperous career. +[<i>The cheers were warmly given</i>.]</p> +<p>Occupying the post I now do, I feel something like a counsel +for the plaintiff with nobody on the other side; but even if I +had been placed in that position ninety times nine, it would +still be my duty to state a few facts from the very short brief +with which I have been provided.</p> +<p>This Institution was founded in the year 1838. During +the first five years of its existence, it was not particularly +robust, and seemed to have been placed in rather a shaded +position, receiving somewhat more than its needful allowance of +cold water. In 1843 it was removed into a more favourable +position, and grafted on a nobler stock, and it has now borne +fruit, and become such a vigorous tree that at present +thirty-five old people daily sit within the shelter of its +branches, and all the pensioners upon the list have been +veritable gardeners, or the wives of gardeners. It is +managed by gardeners, and it has upon its books the excellent +rule that any gardener who has subscribed to it for fifteen +years, and conformed to the rules, may, if he will, be placed +upon the pensioners’ list without election, without +canvass, without solicitation, and as his independent +right. I lay very great stress upon that honourable +characteristic of the charity, because the main principle of any +such institution should be to help those who help +themselves. That the Society’s pensioners do not +become such so long as they are able to support themselves, is +evinced by the significant fact that the average age of those now +upon the list is seventy-seven; that they are not wasteful is +proved by the fact that the whole sum expended on their relief is +but £500 a-year; that the Institution does not restrict +itself to any narrow confines, is shown by the circumstance, that +the pensioners come from all parts of England, whilst all the +expenses are paid from the annual income and interest on stock, +and therefore are not disproportionate to its means.</p> +<p>Such is the Institution which appeals to you through me, as a +most unworthy advocate, for sympathy and support, an Institution +which has for its President a nobleman <a +name="citation98"></a><a href="#footnote98" +class="citation">[98]</a> whose whole possessions are remarkable +for taste and beauty, and whose gardener’s laurels are +famous throughout the world. In the list of its +vice-presidents there are the names of many noblemen and +gentlemen of great influence and station, and I have been struck +in glancing through the list of its supporters, with the sums +written against the names of the numerous nurserymen and seedsmen +therein comprised. I hope the day will come when every +gardener in England will be a member of the charity.</p> +<p>The gardener particularly needs such a provision as this +Institution affords. His gains are not great; he knows gold +and silver more as being of the colour of fruits and flowers than +by its presence in his pockets; he is subjected to that kind of +labour which renders him peculiarly liable to infirmity; and when +old age comes upon him, the gardener is of all men perhaps best +able to appreciate the merits of such an institution.</p> +<p>To all indeed, present and absent, who are descended from the +first</p> +<blockquote><p style="text-align: center">“gardener Adam +and his wife,”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>the benefits of such a society are obvious. In the +culture of flowers there cannot, by their very nature, be +anything, solitary or exclusive. The wind that blows over +the cottager’s porch, sweeps also over the grounds of the +nobleman; and as the rain descends on the just and on the unjust, +so it communicates to all gardeners, both rich and poor, an +interchange of pleasure and enjoyment; and the gardener of the +rich man, in developing and enhancing a fruitful flavour or a +delightful scent, is, in some sort, the gardener of everybody +else.</p> +<p>The love of gardening is associated with all conditions of +men, and all periods of time. The scholar and the +statesman, men of peace and men of war, have agreed in all ages +to delight in gardens. The most ancient people of the earth +had gardens where there is now nothing but solitary heaps of +earth. The poor man in crowded cities gardens still in jugs +and basins and bottles: in factories and workshops people garden; +and even the prisoner is found gardening in his lonely cell, +after years and years of solitary confinement. Surely, +then, the gardener who produces shapes and objects so lovely and +so comforting, should have some hold upon the world’s +remembrance when he himself becomes in need of comfort.</p> +<p>I will call upon you to drink “Prosperity to the +Gardeners’ Benevolent Institution,” and I beg to +couple with that toast the name of its noble President, the Duke +of Devonshire, whose worth is written in all his deeds, and who +has communicated to his title and his riches a lustre which no +title and no riches could confer.</p> + +<div class="gapshortline"> </div> +<p>[Later in the evening, Mr. Dickens said:—]</p> +<p>My office has compelled me to burst into bloom so often that I +could wish there were a closer parallel between myself and the +American aloe. It is particularly agreeable and appropriate +to know that the parents of this Institution are to be found in +the seed and nursery trade; and the seed having yielded such good +fruit, and the nursery having produced such a healthy child, I +have the greatest pleasure in proposing the health of the parents +of the Institution.</p> + +<div class="gapshortline"> </div> +<p>[In proposing the health of the Treasurers, Mr. Dickens +said:—]</p> +<p>My observation of the signboards of this country has taught me +that its conventional gardeners are always jolly, and always +three in number. Whether that conventionality has reference +to the Three Graces, or to those very significant letters, L., +S., D., I do not know. Those mystic letters are, however, +most important, and no society can have officers of more +importance than its Treasurers, nor can it possibly give them too +much to do.</p> +<h2><a name="page101"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +101</span>X.<br /> +BIRMINGHAM, JANUARY 6, 1853.</h2> +<p class="gutsumm">[On Thursday, January 6, 1853, at the rooms of +the Society of Artists, in Temple Row, Birmingham, a large +company assembled to witness the presentation of a testimonial to +Mr. Charles Dickens, consisting of a silver-gilt salver and a +diamond ring. Mr. Dickens acknowledged the tribute, and the +address which accompanied it, in the following words:—]</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Gentlemen</span>, I feel it very +difficult, I assure you, to tender my acknowledgments to you, and +through you, to those many friends of mine whom you represent, +for this honour and distinction which you have conferred upon +me. I can most honestly assure you, that it is in the power +of no great representative of numbers of people to awaken such +happiness in me as is inspired by this token of goodwill and +remembrance, coming to me direct and fresh from the numbers +themselves. I am truly sensible, gentlemen, that my friends +who have united in this address are partial in their kindness, +and regard what I have done with too great favour. But I +may say, with reference to one class—some members of which, +I presume, are included there—that I should in my own eyes +be very unworthy both of the generous gift and the generous +feeling which has been evinced, and this occasion, instead of +pleasure, would give me nothing but pain, if I was unable to +assure them, and those who are in front of this assembly, that +what the working people have found me towards them in my books, I +am throughout my life. Gentlemen, whenever I have tried to +hold up to admiration their fortitude, patience, gentleness, the +reasonableness of their nature, so accessible to persuasion, and +their extraordinary goodness one towards another, I have done so +because I have first genuinely felt that admiration myself, and +have been thoroughly imbued with the sentiment which I sought to +communicate to others.</p> +<p>Gentlemen, I accept this salver and this ring as far above all +price to me, as very valuable in themselves, and as beautiful +specimens of the workmanship of this town, with great emotion, I +assure you, and with the liveliest gratitude. You remember +something, I daresay, of the old romantic stories of those +charmed rings which would lose their brilliance when their wearer +was in danger, or would press his finger reproachfully when he +was going to do wrong. In the very improbable event of my +being in the least danger of deserting the principles which have +won me these tokens, I am sure the diamond in that ring would +assume a clouded aspect to my faithless eye, and would, I know, +squeeze a throb of pain out of my treacherous heart. But I +have not the least misgiving on that point; and, in this +confident expectation, I shall remove my own old diamond ring +from my left hand, and in future wear the Birmingham ring on my +right, where its grasp will keep me in mind of the good friends I +have here, and in vivid remembrance of this happy hour.</p> +<p>Gentlemen, in conclusion, allow me to thank you and the +Society to whom these rooms belong, that the presentation has +taken place in an atmosphere so congenial to me, and in an +apartment decorated with so many beautiful works of art, among +which I recognize before me the productions of friends of mine, +whose labours and triumphs will never be subjects of indifference +to me. I thank those gentlemen for giving me the +opportunity of meeting them here on an occasion which has some +connexion with their own proceedings; and, though last not least, +I tender my acknowledgments to that charming presence, without +which nothing beautiful can be complete, and which is endearingly +associated with rings of a plainer description, and which, I must +confess, awakens in my mind at the present moment a feeling of +regret that I am not in a condition to make an offer of these +testimonials. I beg you, gentlemen, to commend me very +earnestly and gratefully to our absent friends, and to assure +them of my affectionate and heartfelt respect.</p> + +<div class="gapshortline"> </div> +<p>The company then adjourned to Dee’s Hotel, where a +banquet took place, at which about 220 persons were present, +among whom were some of the most distinguished of the Royal +Academicians. To the toast of “The Literature of +England,” Mr. Dickens responded as follows:—</p> +<p>Mr. Mayor and Gentlemen, I am happy, on behalf of many +labourers in that great field of literature to which you have +pledged the toast, to thank you for the tribute you have paid to +it. Such an honour, rendered by acclamation in such a place +as this, seems to me, if I may follow on the same side as the +venerable Archdeacon (Sandford) who lately addressed you, and who +has inspired me with a gratification I can never +forget—such an honour, gentlemen, rendered here, seems to +me a two-sided illustration of the position that literature holds +in these latter and, of course, “degenerate” +days. To the great compact phalanx of the people, by whose +industry, perseverance, and intelligence, and their result in +money-wealth, such places as Birmingham, and many others like it, +have arisen—to that great centre of support, that +comprehensive experience, and that beating heart, literature has +turned happily from individual patrons—sometimes +munificent, often sordid, always few—and has there found at +once its highest purpose, its natural range of action, and its +best reward. Therefore it is right also, as it seems to me, +not only that literature should receive honour here, but that it +should render honour, too, remembering that if it has undoubtedly +done good to Birmingham, Birmingham has undoubtedly done good to +it. From the shame of the purchased dedication, from the +scurrilous and dirty work of Grub Street, from the dependent seat +on sufferance at my Lord Duke’s table to-day, and from the +sponging-house or Marshalsea to-morrow—from that venality +which, by a fine moral retribution, has degraded statesmen even +to a greater extent than authors, because the statesman +entertained a low belief in the universality of corruption, while +the author yielded only to the dire necessity of his +calling—from all such evils the people have set literature +free. And my creed in the exercise of that profession is, +that literature cannot be too faithful to the people in +return—cannot too ardently advocate the cause of their +advancement, happiness, and prosperity. I have heard it +sometimes said—and what is worse, as expressing something +more cold-blooded, I have sometimes seen it written—that +literature has suffered by this change, that it has degenerated +by being made cheaper. I have not found that to be the +case: nor do I believe that you have made the discovery +either. But let a good book in these “bad” +times be made accessible,—even upon an abstruse and +difficult subject, so that it be one of legitimate interest to +mankind,—and my life on it, it shall be extensively bought, +read, and well considered.</p> +<p>Why do I say this? Because I believe there are in +Birmingham at this moment many working men infinitely better +versed in Shakespeare and in Milton than the average of fine +gentlemen in the days of bought-and-sold dedications and dear +books. I ask anyone to consider for himself who, at this +time, gives the greatest relative encouragement to the +dissemination of such useful publications as +“Macaulay’s History,” “Layard’s +Researches,” “Tennyson’s Poems,” +“The Duke of Wellington’s published +Despatches,” or the minutest truths (if any truth can be +called minute) discovered by the genius of a Herschel or a +Faraday? It is with all these things as with the great +music of Mendelssohn, or a lecture upon art—if we had the +good fortune to listen to one to-morrow—by my distinguished +friend the President of the Royal Academy. However small +the audience, however contracted the circle in the water, in the +first instance, the people are nearer the wider range outside, +and the Sister Arts, while they instruct them, derive a wholesome +advantage and improvement from their ready sympathy and cordial +response. I may instance the case of my friend Mr. +Ward’s magnificent picture; <a name="citation105"></a><a +href="#footnote105" class="citation">[105]</a> and the reception +of that picture here is an example that it is not now the +province of art in painting to hold itself in monastic seclusion, +that it cannot hope to rest on a single foundation for its great +temple,—on the mere classic pose of a figure, or the folds +of a drapery—but that it must be imbued with human passions +and action, informed with human right and wrong, and, being so +informed, it may fearlessly put itself upon its trial, like the +criminal of old, to be judged by God and its country.</p> +<p>Gentlemen, to return and conclude, as I shall have occasion to +trouble you again. For this time I have only once again to +repeat what I have already said. As I begun with +literature, I shall end with it. I would simply say that I +believe no true man, with anything to tell, need have the least +misgiving, either for himself or his message, before a large +number of hearers—always supposing that he be not afflicted +with the coxcombical idea of writing down to the popular +intelligence, instead of writing the popular intelligence up to +himself, if, perchance, he be above it;—and, provided +always that he deliver himself plainly of what is in him, which +seems to be no unreasonable stipulation, it being supposed that +he has some dim design of making himself understood. On +behalf of that literature to which you have done so much honour, +I beg to thank you most cordially, and on my own behalf, for the +most flattering reception you have given to one whose claim is, +that he has the distinction of making it his profession.</p> + +<div class="gapshortline"> </div> +<p>Later in the evening, Mr. Dickens gave as a toast, “The +Educational Institutions of Birmingham,” in the following +speech:</p> +<p>I am requested to propose—or, according to the +hypothesis of my friend, Mr. Owen, I am in the temporary +character of a walking advertisement to advertise to +you—the Educational Institutions of Birmingham; an +advertisement to which I have the greatest pleasure in calling +your attention, Gentlemen, it is right that I should, in so many +words, mention the more prominent of these institutions, not +because your local memories require any prompting, but because +the enumeration implies what has been done here, what you are +doing, and what you will yet do. I believe the first is the +King Edward’s Grammar School, with its various branches, +and prominent among them is that most admirable means of training +the wives of working men to be good wives and working wives, the +prime ornament of their homes, and the cause of happiness to +others—I mean those excellent girls’ schools in +various parts of the town, which, under the excellent +superintendence of the principal, I should most sincerely desire +to see in every town in England. Next, I believe, is the +Spring Hill College, a learned institution belonging to the body +of Independents, foremost among whose professors literature is +proud to hail Mr. Henry Rogers as one of the soundest and ablest +contributors to the Edinburgh Review. The next is the +Queen’s College, which, I may say, is only a newly-born +child; but, in the hands of such an admirable Doctor, we may hope +to see it arrive at a vigorous maturity. The next is the +School of Design, which, as has been well observed by my friend +Sir Charles Eastlake, is invaluable in such a place as this; and, +lastly, there is the Polytechnic Institution, with regard to +which I had long ago occasion to express my profound conviction +that it was of unspeakable importance to such a community as +this, when I had the honour to be present, under the auspices of +your excellent representative, Mr. Scholefield. This is the +last of what has been done in an educational way. They are +all admirable in their kind; but I am glad to find that more is +yet doing. A few days ago I received a Birmingham +newspaper, containing a most interesting account of a preliminary +meeting for the formation of a Reformatory School for juvenile +delinquents. You are not exempt here from the honour of +saving these poor, neglected, and wretched outcasts. I read +of one infant, six years old, who has been twice as many times in +the hands of the police as years have passed over his devoted +head. These are the eggs from which gaol-birds are hatched; +if you wish to check that dreadful brood, you must take the young +and innocent, and have them reared by Christian hands.</p> +<p>Lastly, I am rejoiced to find that there is on foot a scheme +for a new Literary and Scientific Institution, which would be +worthy even of this place, if there was nothing of the kind in +it—an institution, as I understand it, where the words +“exclusion” and “exclusiveness” shall be +quite unknown—where all classes may assemble in common +trust, respect, and confidence—where there shall be a great +gallery of painting and statuary open to the inspection and +admiration of all comers—where there shall be a museum of +models in which industry may observe its various sources of +manufacture, and the mechanic may work out new combinations, and +arrive at new results—where the very mines under the earth +and under the sea shall not be forgotten, but presented in little +to the inquiring eye—an institution, in short, where many +and many of the obstacles which now inevitably stand in the +rugged way of the poor inventor shall be smoothed away, and +where, if he have anything in him, he will find encouragement and +hope.</p> +<p>I observe with unusual interest and gratification, that a body +of gentlemen are going for a time to lay aside their individual +prepossessions on other subjects, and, as good citizens, are to +be engaged in a design as patriotic as well can be. They +have the intention of meeting in a few days to advance this great +object, and I call upon you, in drinking this toast, to drink +success to their endeavour, and to make it the pledge by all good +means to promote it.</p> +<p>If I strictly followed out the list of educational +institutions in Birmingham, I should not have done here, but I +intend to stop, merely observing that I have seen within a short +walk of this place one of the most interesting and practical +Institutions for the Deaf and Dumb that has ever come under my +observation. I have seen in the factories and workshops of +Birmingham such beautiful order and regularity, and such great +consideration for the workpeople provided, that they might justly +be entitled to be considered educational too. I have seen +in your splendid Town Hall, when the cheap concerts are going on +there, also an admirable educational institution. I have +seen their results in the demeanour of your working people, +excellently balanced by a nice instinct, as free from servility +on the one hand, as from self-conceit on the other. It is a +perfect delight to have need to ask a question, if only from the +manner of the reply—a manner I never knew to pass unnoticed +by an observant stranger. Gather up those threads, and a +great marry more I have not touched upon, and weaving all into +one good fabric, remember how much is included under the general +head of the Educational Institutions of your town.</p> +<h2><a name="page110"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +110</span>XI.<br /> +LONDON, APRIL 30, 1853.</h2> +<p class="gutsumm">[At the annual Dinner of the Royal Academy, +the President, Sir Charles Eastlake, proposed as a toast, +“The Interests of Literature,” and selected for the +representatives of the world of letters, the Dean of St. +Paul’s and Mr. Charles Dickens. Dean Milman having +returned thanks.]</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Mr Dickens</span> then addressed the +President, who, it should be mentioned, occupied a large and +handsome chair, the back covered with crimson velvet, placed just +before Stanfield’s picture of <i>The Victory</i>.</p> +<p>Mr. Dickens, after tendering his acknowledgments of the toast, +and the honour done him in associating his name with it, said +that those acknowledgments were not the less heartfelt because he +was unable to recognize in this toast the President’s usual +disinterestedness; since English literature could scarcely be +remembered in any place, and, certainly, not in a school of art, +without a very distinct remembrance of his own tasteful writings, +to say nothing of that other and better part of himself, which, +unfortunately, was not visible upon these occasions.</p> +<p>If, like the noble Lord, the Commander-in-Chief (Viscount +Hardinge), he (Mr. Dickens) might venture to illustrate his brief +thanks with one word of reference to the noble picture painted by +a very dear friend of his, which was a little eclipsed that +evening by the radiant and rubicund chair which the President now +so happily toned down, he would beg leave to say that, as +literature could nowhere be more appropriately honoured than in +that place, so he thought she could nowhere feel a higher +gratification in the ties that bound her to the sister +arts. He ever felt in that place that literature found, +through their instrumentality, always a new expression, and in a +universal language.</p> +<h2><a name="page112"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +112</span>XII.<br /> +LONDON, MAY 1, 1853.</h2> +<p class="gutsumm">[At a dinner given by the Lord Mayor at the +Mansion House, on the above date, Mr. Justice Talfourd proposed +as a toast “Anglo-Saxon Literature,” and alluded to +Mr. Dickens as having employed fiction as a means of awakening +attention to the condition of the oppressed and suffering +classes:—]</p> +<p>“<span class="smcap">Mr. Dickens</span> replied to this +toast in a graceful and playful strain. In the former part +of the evening, in reply to a toast on the chancery department, +Vice-Chancellor Wood, who spoke in the absence of the Lord +Chancellor, made a sort of defence of the Court of Chancery, not +distinctly alluding to Bleak House, but evidently not without +reference to it. The amount of what he said was, that the +Court had received a great many more hard opinions than it +merited; that they had been parsimoniously obliged to perform a +great amount of business by a very inadequate number of judges; +but that more recently the number of judges had been increased to +seven, and there was reason to hope that all business brought +before it would now be performed without unnecessary delay.</p> +<p>“Mr. Dickens alluded playfully to this item of +intelligence; said he was exceedingly happy to hear it, as he +trusted now that a suit, in which he was greatly interested, +would speedily come to an end. I heard a little +by-conversation between Mr. Dickens and a gentleman of the bar, +who sat opposite me, in which the latter seemed to be reiterating +the same assertions, and I understood him to say, that a case not +extraordinarily complicated might be got through with in three +months. Mr. Dickens said he was very happy to hear it; but +I fancied there was a little shade of incredulity in his manner; +however, the incident showed one thing, that is, that the +chancery were not insensible to the representations of Dickens; +but the whole tone of the thing was quite good-natured and +agreeable.” <a name="citation113"></a><a +href="#footnote113" class="citation">[113]</a></p> +<h2><a name="page114"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +114</span>XIII.<br /> +BIRMINGHAM, DECEMBER 30, 1853.</h2> +<p class="gutsumm">[The first of the Readings generously given by +Mr. Charles Dickens on behalf of the Birmingham and Midland +Institute, took place on Tuesday evening, December 27, 1853, at +the Birmingham Town Hall, where, notwithstanding the inclemency +of the weather, nearly two thousand persons had assembled. +The work selected was the <i>Christmas Carol</i>. The high +mimetic powers possessed by Mr. Dickens enabled him to personate +with remarkable force the various characters of the story, and +with admirable skill to pass rapidly from the hard, unbelieving +Scrooge, to trusting and thankful Bob Cratchit, and from the +genial fulness of Scrooge’s nephew, to the hideous mirth of +the party assembled in Old Joe the Ragshop-keeper’s +parlour. The reading occupied more than three hours, but so +interested were the audience, that only one or two left the Hall +previously to its termination, and the loud and frequent bursts +of applause attested the successful discharge of the +reader’s arduous task. On Thursday evening Mr. +Dickens read <i>The Cricket on the Hearth</i>. The Hall was +again well ruled, and the tale, though deficient in the dramatic +interest of the <i>Carol</i>, was listened to with attention, and +rewarded with repeated applause. On Friday evening, the +<i>Christmas Carol</i> was read a second time to a large +assemblage of work-people, for whom, at Mr. Dickens’s +special request, the major part of the vast edifice was +reserved. Before commencing the tale, Mr. Dickens delivered +the following brief address, almost every sentence of which was +received with loudly expressed applause.]</p> +<p><span class="smcap">My Good Friends</span>,—When I first +imparted to the committee of the projected Institute my +particular wish that on one of the evenings of my readings here +the main body of my audience should be composed of working men +and their families, I was animated by two desires; first, by the +wish to have the great pleasure of meeting you face to face at +this Christmas time, and accompany you myself through one of my +little Christmas books; and second, by the wish to have an +opportunity of stating publicly in your presence, and in the +presence of the committee, my earnest hope that the Institute +will, from the beginning, recognise one great +principle—strong in reason and justice—which I +believe to be essential to the very life of such an +Institution. It is, that the working man shall, from the +first unto the last, have a share in the management of an +Institution which is designed for his benefit, and which calls +itself by his name.</p> +<p>I have no fear here of being misunderstood—of being +supposed to mean too much in this. If there ever was a time +when any one class could of itself do much for its own good, and +for the welfare of society—which I greatly doubt—that +time is unquestionably past. It is in the fusion of +different classes, without confusion; in the bringing together of +employers and employed; in the creating of a better common +understanding among those whose interests are identical, who +depend upon each other, who are vitally essential to each other, +and who never can be in unnatural antagonism without deplorable +results, that one of the chief principles of a Mechanics’ +Institution should consist. In this world a great deal of +the bitterness among us arises from an imperfect understanding of +one another. Erect in Birmingham a great Educational +Institution, properly educational; educational of the feelings as +well as of the reason; to which all orders of Birmingham men +contribute; in which all orders of Birmingham men meet; wherein +all orders of Birmingham men are faithfully represented—and +you will erect a Temple of Concord here which will be a model +edifice to the whole of England.</p> +<p>Contemplating as I do the existence of the Artisans’ +Committee, which not long ago considered the establishment of the +Institute so sensibly, and supported it so heartily, I earnestly +entreat the gentlemen—earnest I know in the good work, and +who are now among us,—by all means to avoid the great +shortcoming of similar institutions; and in asking the working +man for his confidence, to set him the great example and give him +theirs in return. You will judge for yourselves if I +promise too much for the working man, when I say that he will +stand by such an enterprise with the utmost of his patience, his +perseverance, sense, and support; that I am sure he will need no +charitable aid or condescending patronage; but will readily and +cheerfully pay for the advantages which it confers; that he will +prepare himself in individual cases where he feels that the +adverse circumstances around him have rendered it necessary; in a +word, that he will feel his responsibility like an honest man, +and will most honestly and manfully discharge it. I now +proceed to the pleasant task to which I assure you I have looked +forward for a long time.</p> + +<div class="gapshortline"> </div> +<p>At the close of the reading Mr. Dickens received a vote of +thanks, and “three cheers, with three times +three.” As soon as the enthusiasm of the audience +would allow him to speak, Mr. Dickens said:—</p> +<p>You have heard so much of my voice since we met to-night, that +I will only say, in acknowledgment of this affecting mark of your +regard, that I am truly and sincerely interested in you; that any +little service I have rendered to you I have freely rendered from +my heart; that I hope to become an honorary member of your great +Institution, and will meet you often there when it becomes +practically useful; that I thank you most affectionately for this +new mark of your sympathy and approval; and that I wish you many +happy returns of this great birthday-time, and many prosperous +years.</p> +<h2><a name="page117"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +117</span>XIV.<br /> +COMMERCIAL TRAVELLERS.<br /> +LONDON, DECEMBER 30, 1854.</h2> +<p class="gutsumm">[The following speech was made by Mr. Dickens +at the Anniversary Dinner in commemoration of the foundation of +the Commercial Travellers’ Schools, held at the London +Tavern on the above date. Mr. Dickens presided on this +occasion, and proposed the toasts.]</p> +<p>I <span class="smcap">think</span> it may be assumed that most +of us here present know something about travelling. I do +not mean in distant regions or foreign countries, although I dare +say some of us have had experience in that way, but at home, and +within the limits of the United Kingdom. I dare say most of +us have had experience of the extinct “fast coaches,” +the “Wonders,” “Taglionis,” and +“Tallyhos,” of other days. I daresay most of us +remember certain modest postchaises, dragging us down +interminable roads, through slush and mud, to little country +towns with no visible population, except half-a-dozen men in +smock-frocks, half-a-dozen women with umbrellas and pattens, and +a washed-out dog or so shivering under the gables, to complete +the desolate picture. We can all discourse, I dare say, if +so minded, about our recollections of the “Talbot,” +the “Queen’s Head,” or the “Lion” +of those days. We have all been to that room on the ground +floor on one side of the old inn yard, not quite free from a +certain fragrant smell of tobacco, where the cruets on the +sideboard were usually absorbed by the skirts of the box-coats +that hung from the wall; where awkward servants waylaid us at +every turn, like so many human man-traps; where county members, +framed and glazed, were eternally presenting that petition which, +somehow or other, had made their glory in the county, although +nothing else had ever come of it. Where the books in the +windows always wanted the first, last, and middle leaves, and +where the one man was always arriving at some unusual hour in the +night, and requiring his breakfast at a similarly singular period +of the day. I have no doubt we could all be very eloquent +on the comforts of our favourite hotel, wherever it was—its +beds, its stables, its vast amount of posting, its excellent +cheese, its head waiter, its capital dishes, its pigeon-pies, or +its 1820 port. Or possibly we could recal our chaste and +innocent admiration of its landlady, or our fraternal regard for +its handsome chambermaid. A celebrated domestic critic once +writing of a famous actress, renowned for her virtue and beauty, +gave her the character of being an “eminently +gatherable-to-one’s-arms sort of person.” +Perhaps some one amongst us has borne a somewhat similar tribute +to the mental charms of the fair deities who presided at our +hotels.</p> +<p>With the travelling characteristics of later times, we are +all, no doubt, equally familiar. We know all about that +station to which we must take our ticket, although we never get +there; and the other one at which we arrive after dark, certain +to find it half a mile from the town, where the old road is sure +to have been abolished, and the new road is going to be +made—where the old neighbourhood has been tumbled down, and +the new one is not half built up. We know all about that +party on the platform who, with the best intentions, can do +nothing for our luggage except pitch it into all sorts of +unattainable places. We know all about that short omnibus, +in which one is to be doubled up, to the imminent danger of the +crown of one’s hat; and about that fly, whose leading +peculiarity is never to be there when it is wanted. We +know, too, how instantaneously the lights of the station +disappear when the train starts, and about that grope to the new +Railway Hotel, which will be an excellent house when the +customers come, but which at present has nothing to offer but a +liberal allowance of damp mortar and new lime.</p> +<p>I record these little incidents of home travel mainly with the +object of increasing your interest in the purpose of this +night’s assemblage. Every traveller has a home of his +own, and he learns to appreciate it the more from his +wandering. If he has no home, he learns the same lesson +unselfishly by turning to the homes of other men. He may +have his experiences of cheerful and exciting pleasures abroad; +but home is the best, after all, and its pleasures are the most +heartily and enduringly prized. Therefore, ladies and +gentlemen, every one must be prepared to learn that commercial +travellers, as a body, know how to prize those domestic relations +from which their pursuits so frequently sever them; for no one +could possibly invent a more delightful or more convincing +testimony to the fact than they themselves have offered in +founding and maintaining a school for the children of deceased or +unfortunate members of their own body; those children who now +appeal to you in mute but eloquent terms from the gallery.</p> +<p>It is to support that school, founded with such high and +friendly objects, so very honourable to your calling, and so +useful in its solid and practical results, that we are here +to-night. It is to roof that building which is to shelter +the children of your deceased friends with one crowning ornament, +the best that any building can have, namely, a receipt stamp for +the full amount of the cost. It is for this that your +active sympathy is appealed to, for the completion of your own +good work. You know how to put your hands to the plough in +earnest as well as any men in existence, for this little book +informs me that you raised last year no less a sum than +£8000, and while fully half of that sum consisted of new +donations to the building fund, I find that the regular revenue +of the charity has only suffered to the extent of +£30. After this, I most earnestly and sincerely say +that were we all authors together, I might boast, if in my +profession were exhibited the same unity and steadfastness I find +in yours.</p> +<p>I will not urge on you the casualties of a life of travel, or +the vicissitudes of business, or the claims fostered by that bond +of brotherhood which ought always to exist amongst men who are +united in a common pursuit. You have already recognized +those claims so nobly, that I will not presume to lay them before +you in any further detail. Suffice it to say that I do not +think it is in your nature to do things by halves. I do not +think you could do so if you tried, and I have a moral certainty +that you never will try. To those gentlemen present who are +not members of the travellers’ body, I will say in the +words of the French proverb, “Heaven helps those who help +themselves.” The Commercial Travellers having helped +themselves so gallantly, it is clear that the visitors who come +as a sort of celestial representatives ought to bring that aid in +their pockets which the precept teaches us to expect from +them. With these few remarks, I beg to give you as a toast, +“Success to the Commercial Travellers’ +School.”</p> + +<div class="gapshortline"> </div> +<p>In proposing the health of the Army in the Crimea, Mr. Dickens +said:—</p> +<p><span class="smcap">It</span> does not require any +extraordinary sagacity in a commercial assembly to appreciate the +dire evils of war. The great interests of trade enfeebled +by it, the enterprise of better times paralysed by it, all the +peaceful arts bent down before it, too palpably indicate its +character and results, so that far less practical intelligence +than that by which I am surrounded would be sufficient to +appreciate the horrors of war. But there are seasons when +the evils of peace, though not so acutely felt, are immeasurably +greater, and when a powerful nation, by admitting the right of +any autocrat to do wrong, sows by such complicity the seeds of +its own ruin, and overshadows itself in time to come with that +fatal influence which great and ambitious powers are sure to +exercise over their weaker neighbours.</p> +<p>Therefore it is, ladies and gentlemen, that the tree has not +its root in English ground from which the yard wand can be made +that will measure—the mine has not its place in English +soil that will supply the material of a pair of scales to weigh +the influence that may be at stake in the war in which we are now +straining all our energies. That war is, at any time and in +any shape, a most dreadful and deplorable calamity, we need no +proverb to tell us; but it is just because it is such a calamity, +and because that calamity must not for ever be impending over us +at the fancy of one man against all mankind, that we must not +allow that man to darken from our view the figures of peace and +justice between whom and us he now interposes.</p> +<p>Ladies and gentlemen, if ever there were a time when the true +spirits of two countries were really fighting in the cause of +human advancement and freedom—no matter what diplomatic +notes or other nameless botherations, from number one to one +hundred thousand and one, may have preceded their taking the +field—if ever there were a time when noble hearts were +deserving well of mankind by exposing themselves to the obedient +bayonets of a rash and barbarian tyrant, it is now, when the +faithful children of England and France are fighting so bravely +in the Crimea. Those faithful children are the admiration +and wonder of the world, so gallantly are they discharging their +duty; and therefore I propose to an assembly, emphatically +representing the interests and arts of peace, to drink the health +of the Allied Armies of England and France, with all possible +honours.</p> + +<div class="gapshortline"> </div> +<p>In proposing the health of the Treasurer, Mr. Dickens +said:—</p> +<p>If the President of this Institution had been here, I should +possibly have made one of the best speeches you ever heard; but +as he is not here, I shall turn to the next toast on my +list:—“The health of your worthy Treasurer, Mr. +George Moore,” a name which is a synonym for integrity, +enterprise, public spirit, and benevolence. He is one of +the most zealous officers I ever saw in my life; he appears to me +to have been doing nothing during the last week but rushing into +and out of railway-carriages, and making eloquent speeches at all +sorts of public dinners in favour of this charity. Last +evening he was at Manchester, and this evening he comes here, +sacrificing his time and convenience, and exhausting in the +meantime the contents of two vast leaden inkstands and no end of +pens, with the energy of fifty bankers’ clerks rolled into +one. But I clearly foresee that the Treasurer will have so +much to do to-night, such gratifying sums to acknowledge and such +large lines of figures to write in his books, that I feel the +greatest consideration I can show him is to propose his health +without further observation, leaving him to address you in his +own behalf. I propose to you, therefore, the health of Mr. +George Moore, the Treasurer of this charity, and I need hardly +add that it is one which is to be drunk with all the honours.</p> + +<div class="gapshortline"> </div> +<p>[Later in the evening, Mr. Dickens rose and said:—]</p> +<p>So many travellers have been going up Mont Blanc lately, both +in fact and in fiction, that I have heard recently of a proposal +for the establishment of a Company to employ Sir Joseph Paxton to +take it down. Only one of those travellers, however, has +been enabled to bring Mont Blanc to Piccadilly, and, by his own +ability and good humour, so to thaw its eternal ice and snow, as +that the most timid lady may ascend it twice a-day, “during +the holidays,” without the smallest danger or +fatigue. Mr. Albert Smith, who is present amongst us +to-night, is undoubtedly “a traveller.” I do +not know whether he takes many orders, but this I can testify, on +behalf of the children of his friends, that he gives them in the +most liberal manner.</p> +<p>We have also amongst us my friend Mr. Peter Cunningham, who is +also a traveller, not only in right of his able edition of +Goldsmith’s “Traveller,” but in right of his +admirable Handbook, which proves him to be a traveller in the +right spirit through all the labyrinths of London. We have +also amongst us my friend Horace Mayhew, very well known also for +his books, but especially for his genuine admiration of the +company at that end of the room [<i>Mr. Dickens here pointed to +the ladies gallery</i>], and who, whenever the fair sex is +mentioned, will be found to have the liveliest personal interest +in the conversation.</p> +<p>Ladies and gentlemen, I am about to propose to you the health +of these three distinguished visitors. They are all +admirable speakers, but Mr. Albert Smith has confessed to me, +that on fairly balancing his own merits as a speaker and a +singer, he rather thinks he excels in the latter art. I +have, therefore, yielded to his estimate of himself, and I have +now the pleasure of informing you that he will lead off the +speeches of the other two gentlemen with a song. Mr. Albert +Smith has just said to me in an earnest tone of voice, +“What song would you recommend?” and I replied, +“Galignani’s Messenger.” Ladies and +gentlemen, I therefore beg to propose the health of Messrs. +Albert Smith, Peter Cunningham, and Horace Mayhew, and call on +the first-named gentleman for a song.</p> +<h2><a name="page125"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +125</span>XV.<br /> +ADMINISTRATIVE REFORM.</h2> +<p style="text-align: center">THEATRE ROYAL, DRURY LANE, +WEDNESDAY, JUNE 27, 1855.</p> +<p>I <span class="smcap">cannot</span>, I am sure, better express +my sense of the kind reception accorded to me by this great +assembly, than by promising to compress what I shall address to +it within the closest possible limits. It is more than +eighteen hundred years ago, since there was a set of men who +“thought they should be heard for their much +speaking.” As they have propagated exceedingly since +that time, and as I observe that they flourish just now to a +surprising extent about Westminster, I will do my best to avoid +adding to the numbers of that prolific race. The noble lord +at the head of the Government, when he wondered in Parliament +about a week ago, that my friend, Mr. Layard, did not blush for +having stated in this place what the whole country knows +perfectly well to be true, and what no man in it can by +possibility better know to be true than those disinterested +supporters of that noble lord, who had the advantage of hearing +him and cheering him night after night, when he first became +premier—I mean that he did officially and habitually joke, +at a time when this country was plunged in deep disgrace and +distress—I say, that noble lord, when he wondered so much +that the man of this age, who has, by his earnest and adventurous +spirit, done the most to distinguish himself and it, did not +blush for the tremendous audacity of having so come between the +wind and his nobility, turned an airy period with reference to +the private theatricals at Drury Lane Theatre. Now, I have +some slight acquaintance with theatricals, private and public, +and I will accept that figure of the noble lord. I will not +say that if I wanted to form a company of Her Majesty’s +servants, I think I should know where to put my hand on +“the comic old gentleman;” nor, that if I wanted to +get up a pantomime, I fancy I should know what establishment to +go to for the tricks and changes; also, for a very considerable +host of supernumeraries, to trip one another up in that +contention with which many of us are familiar, both on these and +on other boards, in which the principal objects thrown about are +loaves and fishes. But I will try to give the noble lord +the reason for these private theatricals, and the reason why, +however ardently he may desire to ring the curtain down upon +them, there is not the faintest present hope of their coming to a +conclusion. It is this:—The public theatricals which +the noble lord is so condescending as to manage are so +intolerably bad, the machinery is so cumbrous, the parts so +ill-distributed, the company so full of “walking +gentlemen,” the managers have such large families, and are +so bent upon putting those families into what is theatrically +called “first business”—not because of their +aptitude for it, but because they <i>are</i> their families, that +we find ourselves obliged to organize an opposition. We +have seen the <i>Comedy of Errors</i> played so dismally like a +tragedy that we really cannot bear it. We are, therefore, +making bold to get up the <i>School of Reform</i>, and we hope, +before the play is out, to improve that noble lord by our +performance very considerably. If he object that we have no +right to improve him without his license, we venture to claim +that right in virtue of his orchestra, consisting of a very +powerful piper, whom we always pay.</p> +<p>Sir, as this is the first political meeting I have ever +attended, and as my trade and calling is not associated with +politics, perhaps it may be useful for me to show how I came to +be here, because reasons similar to those which have influenced +me may still be trembling in the balance in the minds of +others. I want at all times, in full sincerity, to do my +duty by my countrymen. If <i>I</i> feel an attachment +towards them, there is nothing disinterested or meritorious in +that, for I can never too affectionately remember the confidence +and friendship that they have long reposed in me. My sphere +of action—which I shall never change—I shall never +overstep, further than this, or for a longer period than I do +to-night. By literature I have lived, and through +literature I have been content to serve my country; and I am +perfectly well aware that I cannot serve two masters. In my +sphere of action I have tried to understand the heavier social +grievances, and to help to set them right. When the +<i>Times</i> newspaper proved its then almost incredible case, in +reference to the ghastly absurdity of that vast labyrinth of +misplaced men and misdirected things, which had made England +unable to find on the face of the earth, an enemy one-twentieth +part so potent to effect the misery and ruin of her noble +defenders as she has been herself, I believe that the gloomy +silence into which the country fell was by far the darkest aspect +in which a great people had been exhibited for many years. +With shame and indignation lowering among all classes of society, +and this new element of discord piled on the heaving basis of +ignorance, poverty and crime, which is always below us—with +little adequate expression of the general mind, or apparent +understanding of the general mind, in Parliament—with the +machinery of Government and the legislature going round and +round, and the people fallen from it and standing aloof, as if +they left it to its last remaining function of destroying itself, +when it had achieved the destruction of so much that was dear to +them—I did and do believe that the only wholesome turn +affairs so menacing could possibly take, was, the awaking of the +people, the outspeaking of the people, the uniting of the people +in all patriotism and loyalty to effect a great peaceful +constitutional change in the administration of their own +affairs. At such a crisis this association arose; at such a +crisis I joined it: considering its further case to be—if +further case could possibly be needed—that what is +everybody’s business is nobody’s business, that men +must be gregarious in good citizenship as well as in other +things, and that it is a law in nature that there must be a +centre of attraction for particles to fly to, before any +serviceable body with recognised functions can come into +existence. This association has arisen, and we belong to +it. What are the objections to it? I have heard in +the main but three, which I will now briefly notice. It is +said that it is proposed by this association to exercise an +influence, through the constituencies, on the House of +Commons. I have not the least hesitation in saying that I +have the smallest amount of faith in the House of Commons at +present existing and that I consider the exercise of such +influence highly necessary to the welfare and honour of this +country. I was reading no later than yesterday the book of +Mr. Pepys, which is rather a favourite of mine, in which he, two +hundred years ago, writing of the House of Commons, says:</p> +<blockquote><p>“My cousin Roger Pepys tells me that it is +matter of the greatest grief to him in the world that he should +be put upon this trust of being a Parliament man; because he says +nothing is done, that he can see, out of any truth and sincerity, +but mere envy and design.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Now, how it comes to pass that after two hundred years, and +many years after a Reform Bill, the house of Commons is so little +changed, I will not stop to inquire. I will not ask how it +happens that bills which cramp and worry the people, and restrict +their scant enjoyments, are so easily passed, and how it happens +that measures for their real interests are so very difficult to +be got through Parliament. I will not analyse the confined +air of the lobby, or reduce to their primitive gases its +deadening influences on the memory of that Honourable Member who +was once a candidate for the honour of your—and +my—independent vote and interest. I will not ask what +is that Secretarian figure, full of blandishments, standing on +the threshold, with its finger on its lips. I will not ask +how it comes that those personal altercations, involving all the +removes and definitions of Shakespeare’s +Touchstone—the retort courteous—the quip +modest—the reply churlish—the reproof +valiant—the countercheck quarrelsome—the lie +circumstantial and the lie direct—are of immeasurably +greater interest in the House of Commons than the health, the +taxation, and the education, of a whole people. I will not +penetrate into the mysteries of that secret chamber in which the +Bluebeard of Party keeps his strangled public questions, and with +regard to which, when he gives the key to his wife, the new +comer, he strictly charges her on no account to open the +door. I will merely put it to the experience of everybody +here, whether the House of Commons is not occasionally a little +hard of hearing, a little dim of sight, a little slow of +understanding, and whether, in short, it is not in a sufficiency +invalided state to require close watching, and the occasional +application of sharp stimulants; and whether it is not capable of +considerable improvement? I believe that, in order to +preserve it in a state of real usefulness and independence, the +people must be very watchful and very jealous of it; and it must +have its memory jogged; and be kept awake when it happens to have +taken too much Ministerial narcotic; it must be trotted about, +and must be bustled and pinched in a friendly way, as is the +usage in such cases. I hold that no power can deprive us of +the right to administer our functions as a body comprising +electors from all parts of the country, associated together +because their country is dearer to them than drowsy twaddle, +unmeaning routine, or worn-out conventionalities.</p> +<p>This brings me to objection number two. It is stated +that this Association sets class against class. Is this +so? (<i>Cries of</i> “No.”) No, it finds +class set against class, and seeks to reconcile them. I +wish to avoid placing in opposition those two +words—Aristocracy and People. I am one who can +believe in the virtues and uses of both, and would not on any +account deprive either of a single just right belonging to +it. I will use, instead of these words, the terms, the +governors and the governed. These two bodies the +Association finds with a gulf between them, in which are lying, +newly-buried, thousands on thousands of the bravest and most +devoted men that even England ever bred. It is to prevent +the recurrence of innumerable smaller evils, of which, unchecked, +that great calamity was the crowning height and the necessary +consummation, and to bring together those two fronts looking now +so strangely at each other, that this Association seeks to help +to bridge over that abyss, with a structure founded on common +justice and supported by common sense. Setting class +against class! That is the very parrot prattle that we have +so long heard. Try its justice by the following +example:—A respectable gentleman had a large establishment, +and a great number of servants, who were good for nothing, who, +when he asked them to give his children bread, gave them stones; +who, when they were told to give those children fish, gave them +serpents. When they were ordered to send to the East, they +sent to the West; when they ought to have been serving dinner in +the North, they were consulting exploded cookery books in the +South; who wasted, destroyed, tumbled over one another when +required to do anything, and were bringing everything to +ruin. At last the respectable gentleman calls his house +steward, and says, even then more in sorrow than in anger, +“This is a terrible business; no fortune can stand +it—no mortal equanimity can bear it! I must change my +system; I must obtain servants who will do their +duty.” The house steward throws up his eyes in pious +horror, ejaculates “Good God, master, you are setting class +against class!” and then rushes off into the +servants’ hall, and delivers a long and melting oration on +that wicked feeling.</p> +<p>I now come to the third objection, which is common among young +gentlemen who are not particularly fit for anything but spending +money which they have not got. It is usually comprised in +the observation, “How very extraordinary it is that these +Administrative Reform fellows can’t mind their own +business.” I think it will occur to all that a very +sufficient mode of disposing of this objection is to say, that it +is our own business we mind when we come forward in this way, and +it is to prevent it from being mismanaged by them. I +observe from the Parliamentary debates—which have of late, +by-the-bye, frequently suggested to me that there is this +difference between the bull of Spain the bull of Nineveh, that, +whereas, in the Spanish case, the bull rushes at the scarlet, in +the Ninevite case, the scarlet rushes at the bull—I have +observed from the Parliamentary debates that, by a curious +fatality, there has been a great deal of the reproof valiant and +the counter-check quarrelsome, in reference to every case, +showing the necessity of Administrative Reform, by whomsoever +produced, whensoever, and wheresoever. I daresay I should +have no difficulty in adding two or three cases to the list, +which I know to be true, and which I have no doubt would be +contradicted, but I consider it a work of supererogation; for, if +the people at large be not already convinced that a sufficient +general case has been made out for Administrative Reform, I think +they never can be, and they never will be. There is, +however, an old indisputable, very well known story, which has so +pointed a moral at the end of it that I will substitute it for a +new case: by doing of which I may avoid, I hope, the sacred wrath +of St. Stephen’s. Ages ago a savage mode of keeping +accounts on notched sticks was introduced into the Court of +Exchequer, and the accounts were kept, much as Robinson Crusoe +kept his calendar on the desert island. In the course of +considerable revolutions of time, the celebrated Cocker was born, +and died; Walkinghame, of the Tutor’s Assistant, and well +versed in figures, was also born, and died; a multitude of +accountants, book-keepers, and actuaries, were born, and +died. Still official routine inclined to these notched +sticks, as if they were pillars of the constitution, and still +the Exchequer accounts continued to be kept on certain splints of +elm wood called “tallies.” In the reign of +George III. an inquiry was made by some revolutionary spirit, +whether pens, ink, and paper, slates and pencils, being in +existence, this obstinate adherence to an obsolete custom ought +to be continued, and whether a change ought not to be +effected.</p> +<p>All the red tape in the country grew redder at the bare +mention of this bold and original conception, and it took till +1826 to get these sticks abolished. In 1834 it was found +that there was a considerable accumulation of them; and the +question then arose, what was to be done with such worn-out, +worm-eaten, rotten old bits of wood? I dare say there was a +vast amount of minuting, memoranduming, and despatch-boxing, on +this mighty subject. The sticks were housed at Westminster, +and it would naturally occur to any intelligent person that +nothing could be easier than to allow them to be carried away for +fire-wood by the miserable people who live in that +neighbourhood. However, they never had been useful, and +official routine required that they never should be, and so the +order went forth that they were to be privately and +confidentially burnt. It came to pass that they were burnt +in a stove in the House of Lords. The stove, overgorged +with these preposterous sticks, set fire to the panelling; the +panelling set fire to the House of Lords; the House of Lords set +fire to the House of Commons; the two houses were reduced to +ashes; architects were called in to build others; we are now in +the second million of the cost thereof; the national pig is not +nearly over the stile yet; and the little old woman, Britannia, +hasn’t got home to-night.</p> +<p>Now, I think we may reasonably remark, in conclusion, that all +obstinate adherence to rubbish which the time has long outlived, +is certain to have in the soul of it more or less that is +pernicious and destructive; and that will some day set fire to +something or other; which, if given boldly to the winds would +have been harmless; but which, obstinately retained, is +ruinous. I believe myself that when Administrative Reform +goes up it will be idle to hope to put it down, on this or that +particular instance. The great, broad, and true cause that +our public progress is far behind our private progress, and that +we are not more remarkable for our private wisdom and success in +matters of business than we are for our public folly and failure, +I take to be as clearly established as the sun, moon, and +stars. To set this right, and to clear the way in the +country for merit everywhere: accepting it equally whether it be +aristocratic or democratic, only asking whether it be honest or +true, is, I take it, the true object of this Association. +This object it seeks to promote by uniting together large numbers +of the people, I hope, of all conditions, to the end that they +may better comprehend, bear in mind, understand themselves, and +impress upon others, the common public duty. Also, of which +there is great need, that by keeping a vigilant eye on the +skirmishers thrown out from time to time by the Party of +Generals, they may see that their feints and manœuvres do +not oppress the small defaulters and release the great, and that +they do not gull the public with a mere field-day Review of +Reform, instead of an earnest, hard-fought Battle. I have +had no consultation with any one upon the subject, but I +particularly wish that the directors may devise some means of +enabling intelligent working men to join this body, on easier +terms than subscribers who have larger resources. I could +wish to see great numbers of them belong to us, because I +sincerely believe that it would be good for the common weal.</p> +<p>Said the noble Lord at the head of the Government, when Mr. +Layard asked him for a day for his motion, “Let the hon. +gentleman find a day for himself.”</p> +<blockquote><p>“Now, in the names of all the gods at +once,<br /> +Upon what meat doth this our Cæsar feed<br /> +That he is grown so great?”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>If our Cæsar will excuse me, I would take the liberty of +reversing that cool and lofty sentiment, and I would say, +“First Lord, your duty it is to see that no man is left to +find a day for himself. See you, who take the +responsibility of government, who aspire to it, live for it, +intrigue for it, scramble for it, who hold to it tooth-and-nail +when you can get it, see you that no man is left to find a day +for himself. In this old country, with its seething +hard-worked millions, its heavy taxes, its swarms of ignorant, +its crowds of poor, and its crowds of wicked, woe the day when +the dangerous man shall find a day for himself, because the head +of the Government failed in his duty in not anticipating it by a +brighter and a better one! Name you the day, First Lord; +make a day; work for a day beyond your little time, Lord +Palmerston, and History in return may then—not +otherwise—find a day for you; a day equally associated with +the contentment of the loyal, patient, willing-hearted English +people, and with the happiness of your Royal Mistress and her +fair line of children.”</p> +<h2><a name="page136"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +136</span>XVI.<br /> +SHEFFIELD, DECEMBER 22, 1855.</h2> +<p class="gutsumm">[On Saturday Evening Mr. Charles Dickens read +his Christmas Carol in the Mechanics’ Hall in behalf of the +funds of the Institute.</p> +<p class="gutsumm">After the reading the Mayor said, he had been +charged by a few gentlemen in Sheffield to present to Mr. Dickens +for his acceptance a very handsome service of table cutlery, a +pair of razors, and a pair of fish carvers, as some substantial +manifestation of their gratitude to Mr. Dickens for his kindness +in coming to Sheffield. Henceforth the Christmas of 1855 +would be associated in his mind with the name of that +gentleman.]</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Mr. Charles Dickens</span>, in receiving +the presentation, said, he accepted with heartfelt delight and +cordial gratitude such beautiful specimens of +Sheffield-workmanship; and he begged to assure them that the kind +observations which had been made by the Mayor, and the way in +which they had been responded to by that assembly, would never be +obliterated from his remembrance. The present testified not +only to the work of Sheffield hands, but to the warmth and +generosity of Sheffield hearts. It was his earnest desire +to do right by his readers, and to leave imaginative and popular +literature associated with the private homes and public rights of +the people of England. The case of cutlery with which he +had been so kindly presented, should be retained as an heirloom +in his family; and he assured them that he should ever be +faithful to his death to the principles which had earned for him +their approval. In taking his reluctant leave of them, he +wished them many merry Christmases, and many happy new years.</p> +<h2><a name="page138"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +138</span>XVII.<br /> +LONDON, FEBRUARY 9, 1858.</h2> +<p class="gutsumm">[At the Anniversary Festival of the Hospital +for Sick Children, on Tuesday, February the 9th, 1858, about one +hundred and fifty gentlemen sat down to dinner, in the +Freemasons’ Hall. Later in the evening all the seats +in the gallery were filled with ladies interested in the success +of the Hospital. After the usual loyal and other toasts, +the Chairman, Mr. Dickens, proposed “Prosperity to the +Hospital for Sick Children,” and said:—]</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Ladies and gentlemen</span>,—It is +one of my rules in life not to believe a man who may happen to +tell me that he feels no interest in children. I hold +myself bound to this principle by all kind consideration, because +I know, as we all must, that any heart which could really toughen +its affections and sympathies against those dear little people +must be wanting in so many humanising experiences of innocence +and tenderness, as to be quite an unsafe monstrosity among +men. Therefore I set the assertion down, whenever I happen +to meet with it—which is sometimes, though not +often—as an idle word, originating possibly in the genteel +languor of the hour, and meaning about as much as that knowing +social lassitude, which has used up the cardinal virtues and +quite found out things in general, usually does mean. I +suppose it may be taken for granted that we, who come together in +the name of children and for the sake of children, acknowledge +that we have an interest in them; indeed, I have observed since I +sit down here that we are quite in a childlike state altogether, +representing an infant institution, and not even yet a grown-up +company. A few years are necessary to the increase of our +strength and the expansion of our figure; and then these tables, +which now have a few tucks in them, will be let out, and then +this hall, which now sits so easily upon us, will be too tight +and small for us. Nevertheless, it is likely that even we +are not without our experience now and then of spoilt +children. I do not mean of our own spoilt children, because +nobody’s own children ever were spoilt, but I mean the +disagreeable children of our particular friends. We know by +experience what it is to have them down after dinner, and, across +the rich perspective of a miscellaneous dessert to see, as in a +black dose darkly, the family doctor looming in the +distance. We know, I have no doubt we all know, what it is +to assist at those little maternal anecdotes and table +entertainments illustrated with imitations and descriptive +dialogue which might not be inaptly called, after the manner of +my friend Mr. Albert Smith, the toilsome ascent of Miss Mary and +the eruption (cutaneous) of Master Alexander. We know what +it is when those children won’t go to bed; we know how they +prop their eyelids open with their forefingers when they will sit +up; how, when they become fractious, they say aloud that they +don’t like us, and our nose is too long, and why +don’t we go? And we are perfectly acquainted with +those kicking bundles which are carried off at last +protesting. An eminent eye-witness told me that he was one +of a company of learned pundits who assembled at the house of a +very distinguished philosopher of the last generation to hear him +expound his stringent views concerning infant education and early +mental development, and he told me that while the philosopher did +this in very beautiful and lucid language, the +philosopher’s little boy, for his part, edified the +assembled sages by dabbling up to the elbows in an apple pie +which had been provided for their entertainment, having +previously anointed his hair with the syrup, combed it with his +fork, and brushed it with his spoon. It is probable that we +also have our similar experiences sometimes, of principles that +are not quite practice, and that we know people claiming to be +very wise and profound about nations of men who show themselves +to be rather weak and shallow about units of babies.</p> +<p>But, ladies and gentlemen, the spoilt children whom I have to +present to you after this dinner of to-day are not of this +class. I have glanced at these for the easier and lighter +introduction of another, a very different, a far more numerous, +and a far more serious class. The spoilt children whom I +must show you are the spoilt children of the poor in this great +city, the children who are, every year, for ever and ever +irrevocably spoilt out of this breathing life of ours by tens of +thousands, but who may in vast numbers be preserved if you, +assisting and not contravening the ways of Providence, will help +to save them. The two grim nurses, Poverty and Sickness, +who bring these children before you, preside over their births, +rock their wretched cradles, nail down their little coffins, pile +up the earth above their graves. Of the annual deaths in +this great town, their unnatural deaths form more than +one-third. I shall not ask you, according to the custom as +to the other class—I shall not ask you on behalf of these +children to observe how good they are, how pretty they are, how +clever they are, how promising they are, whose beauty they most +resemble—I shall only ask you to observe how weak they are, +and how like death they are! And I shall ask you, by the +remembrance of everything that lies between your own infancy and +that so miscalled second childhood when the child’s graces +are gone and nothing but its helplessness remains; I shall ask +you to turn your thoughts to <i>these</i> spoilt children in the +sacred names of Pity and Compassion.</p> +<p>Some years ago, being in Scotland, I went with one of the most +humane members of the humane medical profession, on a morning +tour among some of the worst lodged inhabitants of the old town +of Edinburgh. In the closes and wynds of that picturesque +place—I am sorry to remind you what fast friends +picturesqueness and typhus often are—we saw more poverty +and sickness in an hour than many people would believe in a +life. Our way lay from one to another of the most wretched +dwellings, reeking with horrible odours; shut out from the sky, +shut out from the air, mere pits and dens. In a room in one +of these places, where there was an empty porridge-pot on the +cold hearth, with a ragged woman and some ragged children +crouching on the bare ground near it—where, I remember as I +speak, that the very light, refracted from a high damp-stained +and time-stained house-wall, came trembling in, as if the fever +which had shaken everything else there had shaken even +it—there lay, in an old egg-box which the mother had begged +from a shop, a little feeble, wasted, wan, sick child. With +his little wasted face, and his little hot, worn hands folded +over his breast, and his little bright, attentive eyes, I can see +him now, as I have seen him for several years, look in steadily +at us. There he lay in his little frail box, which was not +at all a bad emblem of the little body from which he was slowly +parting—there he lay, quite quiet, quite patient, saying +never a word. He seldom cried, the mother said; he seldom +complained; “he lay there, seemin’ to woonder what it +was a’ aboot.” God knows, I thought, as I stood +looking at him, he had his reasons for wondering—reasons +for wondering how it could possibly come to be that he lay there, +left alone, feeble and full of pain, when he ought to have been +as bright and as brisk as the birds that never got near +him—reasons for wondering how he came to be left there, a +little decrepid old man pining to death, quite a thing of course, +as if there were no crowds of healthy and happy children playing +on the grass under the summer’s sun within a stone’s +throw of him, as if there were no bright, moving sea on the other +side of the great hill overhanging the city; as if there were no +great clouds rushing over it; as if there were no life, and +movement, and vigour anywhere in the world—nothing but +stoppage and decay. There he lay looking at us, saying, in +his silence, more pathetically than I have ever heard anything +said by any orator in my life, “Will you please to tell me +what this means, strange man? and if you can give me any good +reason why I should be so soon, so far advanced on my way to Him +who said that children were to come into His presence and were +not to be forbidden, but who scarcely meant, I think, that they +should come by this hard road by which I am travelling; pray give +that reason to me, for I seek it very earnestly and wonder about +it very much;” and to my mind he has been wondering about +it ever since. Many a poor child, sick and neglected, I +have seen since that time in this London; many a poor sick child +I have seen most affectionately and kindly tended by poor people, +in an unwholesome house and under untoward circumstances, wherein +its recovery was quite impossible; but at all such times I have +seen my poor little drooping friend in his egg-box, and he has +always addressed his dumb speech to me, and I have always found +him wondering what it meant, and why, in the name of a gracious +God, such things should be!</p> +<p>Now, ladies and gentlemen, such things need not be, and will +not be, if this company, which is a drop of the life-blood of the +great compassionate public heart, will only accept the means of +rescue and prevention which it is mine to offer. Within a +quarter of a mile of this place where I speak, stands a courtly +old house, where once, no doubt, blooming children were born, and +grew up to be men and women, and married, and brought their own +blooming children back to patter up the old oak staircase which +stood but the other day, and to wonder at the old oak carvings on +the chimney-pieces. In the airy wards into which the old +state drawing-rooms and family bedchambers of that house are now +converted are such little patients that the attendant nurses look +like reclaimed giantesses, and the kind medical practitioner like +an amiable Christian ogre. Grouped about the little low +tables in the centre of the rooms are such tiny convalescents +that they seem to be playing at having been ill. On the +doll’s beds are such diminutive creatures that each poor +sufferer is supplied with its tray of toys; and, looking round, +you may see how the little tired, flushed cheek has toppled over +half the brute creation on its way into the ark; or how one +little dimpled arm has mowed down (as I saw myself) the whole tin +soldiery of Europe. On the walls of these rooms are +graceful, pleasant, bright, childish pictures. At the +bed’s heads, are pictures of the figure which is the +universal embodiment of all mercy and compassion, the figure of +Him who was once a child himself, and a poor one. Besides +these little creatures on the beds, you may learn in that place +that the number of small Out-patients brought to that house for +relief is no fewer than ten thousand in the compass of one single +year. In the room in which these are received, you may see +against the wall a box, on which it is written, that it has been +calculated, that if every grateful mother who brings a child +there will drop a penny into it, the Hospital funds may possibly +be increased in a year by so large a sum as forty pounds. +And you may read in the Hospital Report, with a glow of pleasure, +that these poor women are so respondent as to have made, even in +a toiling year of difficulty and high prices, this estimated +forty, fifty pounds. In the printed papers of this same +Hospital, you may read with what a generous earnestness the +highest and wisest members of the medical profession testify to +the great need of it; to the immense difficulty of treating +children in the same hospitals with grown-up people, by reason of +their different ailments and requirements, to the vast amount of +pain that will be assuaged, and of life that will be saved, +through this Hospital; not only among the poor, observe, but +among the prosperous too, by reason of the increased knowledge of +children’s illnesses, which cannot fail to arise from a +more systematic mode of studying them. Lastly, gentlemen, +and I am sorry to say, worst of all—(for I must present no +rose-coloured picture of this place to you—I must not +deceive you;) lastly, the visitor to this Children’s +Hospital, reckoning up the number of its beds, will find himself +perforce obliged to stop at very little over thirty; and will +learn, with sorrow and surprise, that even that small number, so +forlornly, so miserably diminutive, compared with this vast +London, cannot possibly be maintained, unless the Hospital be +made better known; I limit myself to saying better known, because +I will not believe that in a Christian community of fathers and +mothers, and brothers and sisters, it can fail, being better +known, to be well and richly endowed.</p> +<p>Now, ladies and gentlemen, this, without a word of +adornment—which I resolved when I got up not to allow +myself—this is the simple case. This is the pathetic +case which I have to put to you; not only on behalf of the +thousands of children who annually die in this great city, but +also on behalf of the thousands of children who live half +developed, racked with preventible pain, shorn of their natural +capacity for health and enjoyment. If these innocent +creatures cannot move you for themselves, how can I possibly hope +to move you in their name? The most delightful paper, the +most charming essay, which the tender imagination of Charles Lamb +conceived, represents him as sitting by his fireside on a winter +night telling stories to his own dear children, and delighting in +their society, until he suddenly comes to his old, solitary, +bachelor self, and finds that they were but dream-children who +might have been, but never were. “We are +nothing,” they say to him; “less than nothing, and +dreams. We are only what might have been, and we must wait +upon the tedious shore of Lethe, millions of ages, before we have +existence and a name.” “And immediately +awaking,” he says, “I found myself in my arm +chair.” The dream-children whom I would now raise, if +I could, before every one of you, according to your various +circumstances, should be the dear child you love, the dearer +child you have lost, the child you might have had, the child you +certainly have been. Each of these dream-children should +hold in its powerful hand one of the little children now lying in +the Child’s Hospital, or now shut out of it to +perish. Each of these dream-children should say to you, +“O, help this little suppliant in my name; O, help it for +my sake!” Well!—And immediately awaking, you +should find yourselves in the Freemasons’ Hall, happily +arrived at the end of a rather long speech, drinking +“Prosperity to the Hospital for Sick Children,” and +thoroughly resolved that it shall flourish.</p> +<h2><a name="page146"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +146</span>XVIII.<br /> +EDINBURGH, MARCH, 26, 1858.</h2> +<p class="gutsumm">[On the above date Mr. Dickens gave a reading +of his Christmas Carol in the Music Hall, before the members and +subscribers of the Philosophical Institution. At the +conclusion of the reading the Lord Provost of Edinburgh presented +him with a massive silver wassail cup. Mr. Dickens +acknowledged the tribute as follows:]</p> +<p><span class="smcap">My Lord Provost</span>, ladies, and +gentlemen, I beg to assure you I am deeply sensible of your kind +welcome, and of this beautiful and great surprise; and that I +thank you cordially with all my heart. I never have +forgotten, and I never can forget, that I have the honour to be a +burgess and guild-brother of the Corporation of Edinburgh. +As long as sixteen or seventeen years ago, the first great public +recognition and encouragement I ever received was bestowed on me +in this generous and magnificent city—in this city so +distinguished in literature and so distinguished in the +arts. You will readily believe that I have carried into the +various countries I have since traversed, and through all my +subsequent career, the proud and affectionate remembrance of that +eventful epoch in my life; and that coming back to Edinburgh is +to me like coming home.</p> +<p>Ladies and gentlemen, you have heard so much of my voice +to-night, that I will not inflict on you the additional task of +hearing any more. I am better reconciled to limiting myself +to these very few words, because I know and feel full well that +no amount of speech to which I could give utterance could +possibly express my sense of the honour and distinction you have +conferred on me, or the heartfelt gratification I derive from +this reception.</p> +<h2><a name="page148"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +148</span>XIX.<br /> +LONDON, MARCH 29, 1858.</h2> +<p class="gutsumm">[At the thirteenth anniversary festival of the +General Theatrical Fund, held at the Freemasons’ Tavern, at +which Thackeray presided, Mr. Dickens made the following +speech:]</p> +<p><span class="smcap">In</span> our theatrical experience as +playgoers we are all equally accustomed to predict by certain +little signs and portents on the stage what is going to happen +there. When the young lady, an admiral’s daughter, is +left alone to indulge in a short soliloquy, and certain smart +spirit-rappings are heard to proceed immediately from beneath her +feet, we foretell that a song is impending. When two +gentlemen enter, for whom, by a happy coincidence, two chairs, +and no more, are in waiting, we augur a conversation, and that it +will assume a retrospective biographical character. When +any of the performers who belong to the sea-faring or marauding +professions are observed to arm themselves with very small swords +to which are attached very large hilts, we predict that the +affair will end in a combat. Carrying out the association +of ideas, it may have occurred to some that when I asked my old +friend in the chair to allow me to propose a toast I had him in +my eye; and I have him now on my lips.</p> +<p>The duties of a trustee of the Theatrical Fund, an office +which I hold, are not so frequent or so great as its +privileges. He is in fact a mere walking gentleman, with +the melancholy difference that he has no one to love. If +this advantage could be added to his character it would be one of +a more agreeable nature than it is, and his forlorn position +would be greatly improved. His duty is to call every half +year at the bankers’, when he signs his name in a large +greasy inconvenient book, to certain documents of which he knows +nothing, and then he delivers it to the property man and exits +anywhere.</p> +<p>He, however, has many privileges. It is one of his +privileges to watch the steady growth of an institution in which +he takes great interest; it is one of his privileges to bear his +testimony to the prudence, the goodness, the self-denial, and the +excellence of a class of persons who have been too long +depreciated, and whose virtues are too much denied, out of the +depths of an ignorant and stupid superstition. And lastly, +it is one of his privileges sometimes to be called on to propose +the health of the chairman at the annual dinners of the +institution, when that chairman is one for whose genius he +entertains the warmest admiration, and whom he respects as a +friend, and as one who does honour to literature, and in whom +literature is honoured. I say when that is the case, he +feels that this last privilege is a great and high one. +From the earliest days of this institution I have ventured to +impress on its managers, that they would consult its credit and +success by choosing its chairmen as often as possible within the +circle of literature and the arts; and I will venture to say that +no similar institution has been presided over by so many +remarkable and distinguished men. I am sure, however, that +it never has had, and that it never will have, simply because it +cannot have, a greater lustre cast upon it than by the presence +of the noble English writer who fills the chair to-night.</p> +<p>It is not for me at this time, and in this place, to take on +myself to flutter before you the well-thumbed pages of Mr. +Thackeray’s books, and to tell you to observe how full they +are of wit and wisdom, how out-speaking, and how devoid of fear +or favour; but I will take leave to remark, in paying my due +homage and respect to them, that it is fitting that such a writer +and such an institution should be brought together. Every +writer of fiction, although he may not adopt the dramatic form, +writes in effect for the stage. He may never write plays; +but the truth and passion which are in him must be more or less +reflected in the great mirror which he holds up to nature. +Actors, managers, and authors are all represented in this +company, and it maybe supposed that they all have studied the +deep wants of the human heart in many theatres; but none of them +could have studied its mysterious workings in any theatre to +greater advantage than in the bright and airy pages of <i>Vanity +Fair</i>. To this skilful showman, who has so often +delighted us, and who has charmed us again to-night, we have now +to wish God speed, and that he may continue for many years <a +name="citation150"></a><a href="#footnote150" +class="citation">[150]</a> to exercise his potent art. To +him fill a bumper toast, and fervently utter, God bless him!</p> +<h2><a name="page151"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +151</span>XX.<br /> +LONDON, APRIL 29, 1858.</h2> +<p class="gutsumm">[The reader will already have observed that in +the Christmas week of 1853, and on several subsequent occasions, +Mr. Dickens had read the <i>Christmas Carol</i> and the +<i>Chimes</i> before public audiences, but always in aid of the +funds of some institution, or for other benevolent +purposes. The first reading he ever gave for his own +benefit took place on the above date, in St. Martin’s Hall, +(now converted into the Queen’s Theatre). This +reading Mr. Dickens prefaced with the following +speech:—]</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Ladies and gentlemen</span>,—It may +perhaps be in known to you that, for a few years past, I have +been accustomed occasionally to read some of my shorter books, to +various audiences, in aid of a variety of good objects, and at +some charge to myself, both in time and money. It having at +length become impossible in any reason to comply with these +always accumulating demands, I have had definitively to choose +between now and then reading on my own account, as one of my +recognised occupations, or not reading at all. I have had +little or no difficulty in deciding on the former course. +The reasons that have led me to it—besides the +consideration that it necessitates no departure whatever from the +chosen pursuits of my life—are threefold: firstly, I have +satisfied myself that it can involve no possible compromise of +the credit and independence of literature; secondly, I have long +held the opinion, and have long acted on the opinion, that in +these times whatever brings a public man and his public face to +face, on terms of mutual confidence and respect, is a good thing; +thirdly, I have had a pretty large experience of the interest my +hearers are so generous as to take in these occasions, and of the +delight they give to me, as a tried means of strengthening those +relations—I may almost say of personal +friendship—which it is my great privilege and pride, as it +is my great responsibility, to hold with a multitude of persons +who will never hear my voice nor see my face. Thus it is +that I come, quite naturally, to be here among you at this time; +and thus it is that I proceed to read this little book, quite as +composedly as I might proceed to write it, or to publish it in +any other way.</p> +<h2><a name="page153"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +153</span>XXI.<br /> +LONDON, MAY 1, 1858.</h2> +<p class="gutsumm">[The following short speech was made at the +Banquet of the Royal Academy, after the health of Mr. Dickens and +Mr. Thackeray had been proposed by the President, Sir Charles +Eastlake:—]</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Following</span> the order of your toast, +I have to take the first part in the duet to be performed in +acknowledgment of the compliment you have paid to +literature. In this home of art I feel it to be too much an +interchange of compliments, as it were, between near relations, +to enter into any lengthened expression of our thanks for the +honour you have done us. I feel that it would be changing +this splendid assembly into a sort of family party. I may, +however, take leave to say that your sister, whom I represent, is +strong and healthy; that she has a very great affection for, and +an undying interest in you, and that it is always a very great +gratification to her to see herself so well remembered within +these walls, and to know that she is an honoured guest at your +hospitable board.</p> +<h2><a name="page132"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +132</span>XXII.<br /> +LONDON, JULY 21, 1858.</h2> +<p class="gutsumm">[On the above date, a public meeting was held +at the Princess’s Theatre, for the purpose of establishing +the now famous Royal Dramatic College. Mr. Charles Kean was +the chairman, and Mr. Dickens delivered the following +speech:]</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Ladies and gentlemen</span>,—I think +I may venture to congratulate you beforehand on the pleasant +circumstance that the movers and seconders of the resolutions +which will be submitted to you will, probably, have very little +to say. Through the Report which you have heard read, and +through the comprehensive address of the chairman, the cause +which brings us together has been so very clearly stated to you, +that it can stand in need of very little, if of any further +exposition. But, as I have the honour to move the first +resolution which this handsome gift, and the vigorous action that +must be taken upon it, necessitate, I think I shall only give +expression to what is uppermost in the general mind here, if I +venture to remark that, many as the parts are in which Mr. Kean +has distinguished himself on these boards, he has never appeared +in one in which the large spirit of an artist, the feeling of a +man, and the grace of a gentleman, have been more admirably +blended than in this day’s faithful adherence to the +calling of which he is a prosperous ornament, and in this +day’s manly advocacy of its cause.</p> +<p>Ladies and gentlemen, the resolution entrusted to me is:</p> +<p>“That the Report of the provisional committee be +adopted, and that this meeting joyfully accepts, and gratefully +acknowledges, the gift of five acres of land referred to in the +said Report.” <a name="citation153"></a><a +href="#footnote153" class="citation">[153]</a></p> +<p>It is manifest, I take it, that we are all agreed upon this +acceptance and acknowledgment, and that we all know very well +that this generous gift can inspire but one sentiment in the +breast of every lover of the dramatic art. As it is far too +often forgotten by those who are indebted to it for many a +restorative flight out of this working-day world, that the silks, +and velvets, and elegant costumes of its professors must be every +night exchanged for the hideous coats and waistcoats of the +present day, in which we have now the honour and the misfortune +of appearing before you, so when we do meet with a nature so +considerably generous as this donor’s, and do find an +interest in the real life and struggles of the people who have +delighted it, so very spontaneous and so very liberal, we have +nothing to do but to accept and to admire, we have no duty left +but to “take the goods the gods provide us,” and to +make the best and the most of them. Ladies and gentlemen, +allow me to remark, that in this mode of turning a good gift to +the highest account, lies the truest gratitude.</p> +<p>In reference to this, I could not but reflect, whilst Mr. Kean +was speaking, that in an hour or two from this time, the spot +upon which we are now assembled will be transformed into the +scene of a crafty and a cruel bond. I know that, a few +hours hence, the Grand Canal of Venice will flow, with +picturesque fidelity, on the very spot where I now stand dryshod, +and that “the quality of mercy” will be beautifully +stated to the Venetian Council by a learned young doctor from +Padua, on these very boards on which we now enlarge upon the +quality of charity and sympathy. Knowing this, it came into +my mind to consider how different the real bond of to-day from +the ideal bond of to-night. Now, all generosity, all +forbearance, all forgetfulness of little jealousies and unworthy +divisions, all united action for the general good. Then, +all selfishness, all malignity, all cruelty, all revenge, and all +evil,—now all good. Then, a bond to be broken within +the compass of a few—three or four—swiftly passing +hours,—now, a bond to be valid and of good effect +generations hence.</p> +<p>Ladies and gentlemen, of the execution and delivery of this +bond, between this generous gentleman on the one hand, and the +united members of a too often and too long disunited art upon the +other, be you the witnesses. Do you attest of everything +that is liberal and free in spirit, that is “so nominated +in the bond;” and of everything that is grudging, +self-seeking, unjust, or unfair, that it is by no sophistry ever +to be found there. I beg to move the resolution which I +have already had the pleasure of reading.</p> +<h2><a name="page157"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +157</span>XXIII.<br /> +MANCHESTER, DECEMBER 3, 1858.</h2> +<p class="gutsumm">[The following speech was delivered at the +annual meeting of the Institutional Association of Lancashire and +Cheshire, held in the Free-trade Hall on the evening of the above +day, at which Mr. Dickens presided.]</p> +<p><span class="smcap">It</span> has of late years become +noticeable in England that the autumn season produces an immense +amount of public speaking. I notice that no sooner do the +leaves begin to fall from the trees, than pearls of great price +begin to fall from the lips of the wise men of the east, and +north, and west, and south; and anybody may have them by the +bushel, for the picking up. Now, whether the comet has this +year had a quickening influence on this crop, as it is by some +supposed to have had upon the corn-harvest and the vintage, I do +not know; but I do know that I have never observed the columns of +the newspapers to groan so heavily under a pressure of orations, +each vying with the other in the two qualities of having little +or nothing to do with the matter in hand, and of being always +addressed to any audience in the wide world rather than the +audience to which it was delivered.</p> +<p>The autumn having gone, and the winter come, I am so sanguine +as to hope that we in our proceedings may break through this +enchanted circle and deviate from this precedent; the rather as +we have something real to do, and are come together, I am sure, +in all plain fellowship and straightforwardness, to do it. +We have no little straws of our own to throw up to show us which +way any wind blows, and we have no oblique biddings of our own to +make for anything outside this hall.</p> +<p>At the top of the public announcement of this meeting are the +words, “Institutional Association of Lancashire and +Cheshire.” Will you allow me, in reference to the +meaning of those words, to present myself before you as the +embodied spirit of ignorance recently enlightened, and to put +myself through a short, voluntary examination as to the results +of my studies. To begin with: the title did not suggest to +me anything in the least like the truth. I have been for +some years pretty familiar with the terms, +“Mechanics’ Institutions,” and “Literary +Societies,” but they have, unfortunately, become too often +associated in my mind with a body of great pretensions, lame as +to some important member or other, which generally inhabits a new +house much too large for it, which is seldom paid for, and which +takes the name of the mechanics most grievously in vain, for I +have usually seen a mechanic and a dodo in that place +together.</p> +<p>I, therefore, began my education, in respect of the meaning of +this title, very coldly indeed, saying to myself, +“Here’s the old story.” But the perusal +of a very few lines of my book soon gave me to understand that it +was not by any means the old story; in short, that this +association is expressly designed to correct the old story, and +to prevent its defects from becoming perpetuated. I learnt +that this Institutional Association is the union, in one central +head, of one hundred and fourteen local Mechanics’ +Institutions and Mutual Improvement Societies, at an expense of +no more than five shillings to each society; suggesting to all +how they can best communicate with and profit by the +fountain-head and one another; keeping their best aims steadily +before them; advising them how those aims can be best attained; +giving a direct end and object to what might otherwise easily +become waste forces; and sending among them not only oral +teachers, but, better still, boxes of excellent books, called +“Free Itinerating Libraries.” I learned that +these books are constantly making the circuit of hundreds upon +hundreds of miles, and are constantly being read with +inexpressible relish by thousands upon thousands of toiling +people, but that they are never damaged or defaced by one rude +hand. These and other like facts lead me to consider the +immense importance of the fact, that no little cluster of working +men’s cottages can arise in any Lancashire or Cheshire +valley, at the foot of any running stream which enterprise hunts +out for water-power, but it has its educational friend and +companion ready for it, willing for it, acquainted with its +thoughts and ways and turns of speech even before it has come +into existence.</p> +<p>Now, ladies and gentlemen, this is the main consideration that +has brought me here. No central association at a distance +could possibly do for those working men what this local +association does. No central association at a distance +could possibly understand them as this local association +does. No central association at a distance could possibly +put them in that familiar and easy communication one with +another, as that I, man or boy, eager for knowledge, in that +valley seven miles off, should know of you, man or boy, eager for +knowledge, in that valley twelve miles off, and should +occasionally trudge to meet you, that you may impart your +learning in one branch of acquisition to me, whilst I impart mine +in another to you. Yet this is distinctly a feature, and a +most important feature, of this society.</p> +<p>On the other hand, it is not to be supposed that these honest +men, however zealous, could, as a rule, succeed in establishing +and maintaining their own institutions of themselves. It is +obvious that combination must materially diminish their cost, +which is in time a vital consideration; and it is equally obvious +that experience, essential to the success of all combination, is +especially so when its object is to diffuse the results of +experience and of reflection.</p> +<p>Well, ladies and gentlemen, the student of the present +profitable history of this society does not stop here in his +learning; when he has got so far, he finds with interest and +pleasure that the parent society at certain stated periods +invites the more eager and enterprising members of the local +society to submit themselves to voluntary examination in various +branches of useful knowledge, of which examination it takes the +charge and arranges the details, and invites the successful +candidates to come to Manchester to receive the prizes and +certificates of merit which it impartially awards. The most +successful of the competitors in the list of these examinations +are now among us, and these little marks of recognition and +encouragement I shall have the honour presently of giving them, +as they come before you, one by one, for that purpose.</p> +<p>I have looked over a few of those examination papers, which +have comprised history, geography, grammar, arithmetic, +book-keeping, decimal coinage, mensuration, mathematics, social +economy, the French language—in fact, they comprise all the +keys that open all the locks of knowledge. I felt most +devoutly gratified, as to many of them, that they had not been +submitted to me to answer, for I am perfectly sure that if they +had been, I should have had mighty little to bestow upon myself +to-night. And yet it is always to be observed and seriously +remembered that these examinations are undergone by people whose +lives have been passed in a continual fight for bread, and whose +whole existence, has been a constant wrestle with</p> +<blockquote><p>“Those twin gaolers of the daring +heart—<br /> +Low birth and iron fortune.” <a name="citation161"></a><a +href="#footnote161" class="citation">[161]</a></p> +</blockquote> +<p>I could not but consider, with extraordinary admiration, that +these questions have been replied to, not by men like myself, the +business of whose life is with writing and with books, but by +men, the business of whose life is with tools and with +machinery.</p> +<p>Let me endeavour to recall, as well as my memory will serve +me, from among the most interesting cases of prize-holders and +certificate-gainers who will appear before you, some two or three +of the most conspicuous examples. There are two poor +brothers from near Chorley, who work from morning to night in a +coal-pit, and who, in all weathers, have walked eight miles +a-night, three nights a-week, to attend the classes in which they +have gained distinction. There are two poor boys from +Bollington, who begin life as piecers at one shilling or +eighteen-pence a-week, and the father of one of whom was cut to +pieces by the machinery at which he worked, but not before he had +himself founded the institution in which this son has since come +to be taught. These two poor boys will appear before you +to-night, to take the second-class prize in chemistry. +There is a plasterer from Bury, sixteen years of age, who took a +third-class certificate last year at the hands of Lord Brougham; +he is this year again successful in a competition three times as +severe. There is a wagon-maker from the same place, who +knew little or absolutely nothing until he was a grown man, and +who has learned all he knows, which is a great deal, in the local +institution. There is a chain-maker, in very humble +circumstances, and working hard all day, who walks six miles +a-night, three nights a-week, to attend the classes in which he +has won so famous a place. There is a moulder in an iron +foundry, who, whilst he was working twelve hours a day before the +furnace, got up at four o’clock in the morning to learn +drawing. “The thought of my lads,” he writes in +his modest account of himself, “in their peaceful slumbers +above me, gave me fresh courage, and I used to think that if I +should never receive any personal benefit, I might instruct them +when they came to be of an age to understand the mighty machines +and engines which have made our country, England, pre-eminent in +the world’s history.” There is a piecer at +mule-frames, who could not read at eighteen, who is now a man of +little more than thirty, who is the sole support of an aged +mother, who is arithmetical teacher in the institution in which +he himself was taught, who writes of himself that he made the +resolution never to take up a subject without keeping to it, and +who has kept to it with such an astonishing will, that he is now +well versed in Euclid and Algebra, and is the best French scholar +in Stockport. The drawing-classes in that same Stockport +are taught by a working blacksmith; and the pupils of that +working blacksmith will receive the highest honours of +to-night. Well may it be said of that good blacksmith, as +it was written of another of his trade, by the American poet:</p> +<blockquote><p>“Toiling, rejoicing, sorrowing,<br /> + Onward through life he goes;<br /> +Each morning sees some task begun,<br /> + Each evening sees its clause.<br /> +Something attempted, something done,<br /> + Has earn’d a night’s repose.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>To pass from the successful candidates to the delegates from +local societies now before me, and to content myself with one +instance from amongst them. There is among their number a +most remarkable man, whose history I have read with feelings that +I could not adequately express under any circumstances, and least +of all when I know he hears me, who worked when he was a mere +baby at hand-loom weaving until he dropped from fatigue: who +began to teach himself as soon as he could earn five shillings +a-week: who is now a botanist, acquainted with every production +of the Lancashire valley: who is a naturalist, and has made and +preserved a collection of the eggs of British birds, and stuffed +the birds: who is now a conchologist, with a very curious, and in +some respects an original collection of fresh-water shells, and +has also preserved and collected the mosses of fresh water and of +the sea: who is worthily the president of his own local Literary +Institution, and who was at his work this time last night as +foreman in a mill.</p> +<p>So stimulating has been the influence of these bright +examples, and many more, that I notice among the applications +from Blackburn for preliminary test examination papers, one from +an applicant who gravely fills up the printed form by describing +himself as ten years of age, and who, with equal gravity, +describes his occupation as “nursing a little +child.” Nor are these things confined to the +men. The women employed in factories, milliners’ +work, and domestic service, have begun to show, as it is fitting +they should, a most decided determination not to be outdone by +the men; and the women of Preston in particular, have so +honourably distinguished themselves, and shown in their +examination papers such an admirable knowledge of the science of +household management and household economy, that if I were a +working bachelor of Lancashire or Cheshire, and if I had not cast +my eye or set my heart upon any lass in particular, I should +positively get up at four o’clock in the morning with the +determination of the iron-moulder himself, and should go to +Preston in search of a wife.</p> +<p>Now, ladies and gentlemen, these instances, and many more, +daily occurring, always accumulating, are surely better testimony +to the working of this Association, than any number of speakers +could possibly present to you. Surely the presence among us +of these indefatigable people is the Association’s best and +most effective triumph in the present and the past, and is its +noblest stimulus to effort in the future. As its temporary +mouth-piece, I would beg to say to that portion of the company +who attend to receive the prizes, that the institution can never +hold itself apart from them;—can never set itself above +them; that their distinction and success must be its distinction +and success; and that there can be but one heart beating between +them and it. In particular, I would most especially entreat +them to observe that nothing will ever be further from this +Association’s mind than the impertinence of +patronage. The prizes that it gives, and the certificates +that it gives, are mere admiring assurances of sympathy with so +many striving brothers and sisters, and are only valuable for the +spirit in which they are given, and in which they are +received. The prizes are money prizes, simply because the +Institution does not presume to doubt that persons who have so +well governed themselves, know best how to make a little money +serviceable—because it would be a shame to treat them like +grown-up babies by laying it out for them, and because it knows +it is given, and knows it is taken, in perfect clearness of +purpose, perfect trustfulness, and, above all, perfect +independence.</p> +<p>Ladies and Gentlemen, reverting once more to the whole +collective audience before me, I will, in another two minutes, +release the hold which your favour has given me on your +attention. Of the advantages of knowledge I have said, and +I shall say, nothing. Of the certainty with which the man +who grasps it under difficulties rises in his own respect and in +usefulness to the community, I have said, and I shall say, +nothing. In the city of Manchester, in the county of +Lancaster, both of them remarkable for self-taught men, that were +superfluous indeed. For the same reason I rigidly abstain +from putting together any of the shattered fragments of that poor +clay image of a parrot, which was once always saying, without +knowing why, or what it meant, that knowledge was a dangerous +thing. I should as soon think of piecing together the +mutilated remains of any wretched Hindoo who has been blown from +an English gun. Both, creatures of the past, have +been—as my friend Mr. Carlyle vigorously has +it—“blasted into space;” and there, as to this +world, is an end of them.</p> +<p>So I desire, in conclusion, only to sound two strings. +In the first place, let me congratulate you upon the progress +which real mutual improvement societies are making at this time +in your neighbourhood, through the noble agency of individual +employers and their families, whom you can never too much delight +to honour. Elsewhere, through the agency of the great +railway companies, some of which are bestirring themselves in +this matter with a gallantry and generosity deserving of all +praise. Secondly and lastly, let me say one word out of my +own personal heart, which is always very near to it in this +connexion. Do not let us, in the midst of the visible +objects of nature, whose workings we can tell of in figures, +surrounded by machines that can be made to the thousandth part of +an inch, acquiring every day knowledge which can be proved upon a +slate or demonstrated by a microscope—do not let us, in the +laudable pursuit of the facts that surround us, neglect the fancy +and the imagination which equally surround us as a part of the +great scheme. Let the child have its fables; let the man or +woman into which it changes, always remember those fables +tenderly. Let numerous graces and ornaments that cannot be +weighed and measured, and that seem at first sight idle enough, +continue to have their places about us, be we never so +wise. The hardest head may co-exist with the softest +heart. The union and just balance of those two is always a +blessing to the possessor, and always a blessing to +mankind. The Divine Teacher was as gentle and considerate +as He was powerful and wise. You all know how He could +still the raging of the sea, and could hush a little child. +As the utmost results of the wisdom of men can only be at last to +help to raise this earth to that condition to which His doctrine, +untainted by the blindnesses and passions of men, would have +exalted it long ago; so let us always remember that He set us the +example of blending the understanding and the imagination, and +that, following it ourselves, we tread in His steps, and help our +race on to its better and best days. Knowledge, as all +followers of it must know, has a very limited power indeed, when +it informs the head alone; but when it informs the head and the +heart too, it has a power over life and death, the body and the +soul, and dominates the universe.</p> +<h2><a name="page167"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +167</span>XXIV.<br /> +COVENTRY, DECEMBER 4, 1858.</h2> +<p class="gutsumm">[On the above evening, a public dinner was +held at the Castle Hotel, on the occasion of the presentation to +Mr. Charles Dickens of a gold watch, as a mark of gratitude for +the reading of his Christmas Carol, given in December of the +previous year, in aid of the funds of the Coventry +Institute. The chair was taken by C. W. Hoskyns, Esq. +Mr. Dickens ackowledged the testimonial in the following +words:]</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Mr. Chairman</span>, Mr. Vice-chairman, +and Gentlemen,—I hope your minds will be greatly relieved +by my assuring you that it is one of the rules of my life never +to make a speech about myself. If I knowingly did so, under +any circumstances, it would be least of all under such +circumstances as these, when its effect on my acknowledgment of +your kind regard, and this pleasant proof of it, would be to give +me a certain constrained air, which I fear would contrast badly +with your greeting, so cordial, so unaffected, so earnest, and so +true. Furthermore, your Chairman has decorated the occasion +with a little garland of good sense, good feeling, and good +taste; so that I am sure that any attempt at additional ornament +would be almost an impertinence.</p> +<p>Therefore I will at once say how earnestly, how fervently, and +how deeply I feel your kindness. This watch, with which you +have presented me, shall be my companion in my hours of sedentary +working at home, and in my wanderings abroad. It shall +never be absent from my side, and it shall reckon off the labours +of my future days; and I can assure you that after this night the +object of those labours will not less than before be to uphold +the right and to do good. And when I have done with time +and its measurement, this watch shall belong to my children; and +as I have seven boys, and as they have all begun to serve their +country in various ways, or to elect into what distant regions +they shall roam, it is not only possible, but probable, that this +little voice will be heard scores of years hence, who knows? in +some yet unfounded city in the wilds of Australia, or +communicating Greenwich time to Coventry Street, Japan.</p> +<p>Once again, and finally, I thank you; and from my heart of +hearts, I can assure you that the memory of to-night, and of your +picturesque and interesting city, will never be absent from my +mind, and I can never more hear the lightest mention of the name +of Coventry without having inspired in my breast sentiments of +unusual emotion and unusual attachment.</p> + +<div class="gapshortline"> </div> +<p>[Later in the evening, in proposing the health of the +Chairman, Mr. Dickens said:]</p> +<p><span class="smcap">There</span> may be a great variety of +conflicting opinions with regard to farming, and especially with +reference to the management of a clay farm; but, however various +opinions as to the merits of a clay farm may be, there can be but +one opinion as to the merits of a clay farmer,—and it is +the health of that distinguished agriculturist which I have to +propose.</p> +<p>In my ignorance of the subject, I am bound to say that it may +be, for anything I know, indeed I am ready to admit that it +<i>is</i>, exceedingly important that a clay farm should go for a +number of years to waste; but I claim some knowledge as to the +management of a clay farmer, and I positively object to his ever +lying fallow. In the hope that this very rich and teeming +individual may speedily be ploughed up, and that, we shall gather +into our barns and store-houses the admirable crop of wisdom, +which must spring up when ever he is sown, I take leave to +propose his health, begging to assure him that the kind manner in +which he offered to me your very valuable present, I can never +forget.</p> +<h2>XXV.<br /> +LONDON, MARCH 29, 1862.</h2> +<p class="gutsumm">[At a Dinner of the Artists’ General +Benevolent Institution, the following Address was delivered by +Mr. Charles Dickens from the chair:—]</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Seven</span> or eight years ago, without +the smallest expectation of ever being called upon to fill the +chair at an anniversary festival of the Artists’ General +Benevolent Institution, and without the remotest reference to +such an occasion, I selected the administration of that Charity +as the model on which I desired that another should be reformed, +both as regarded the mode in which the relief was afforded, and +the singular economy with which its funds were +administered. As a proof of the latter quality during the +past year, the cost of distributing £1,126 among the +recipients of the bounty of the Charity amounted to little more +than £100, inclusive of all office charges and +expenses. The experience and knowledge of those entrusted +with the management of the funds are a guarantee that the last +available farthing of the funds will be distributed among proper +and deserving recipients. Claiming, on my part, to be +related in some degree to the profession of an artist, I disdain +to stoop to ask for charity, in the ordinary acceptation of the +term, on behalf of the Artists. In its broader and higher +signification of generous confidence, lasting trustfulness, love +and confiding belief, I very readily associate that cardinal +virtue with art. I decline to present the artist to the +notice of the public as a grown-up child, or as a strange, +unaccountable, moon-stricken person, waiting helplessly in the +street of life to be helped over the road by the +crossing-sweeper; on the contrary, I present the artist as a +reasonable creature, a sensible gentleman, and as one well +acquainted with the value of his time, and that of other people, +as if he were in the habit of going on high ’Change every +day. The Artist whom I wish to present to the notice of the +Meeting is one to whom the perfect enjoyment of the five senses +is essential to every achievement of his life. He can gain +no wealth nor fame by buying something which he never touched, +and selling it to another who would also never touch or see it, +but was compelled to strike out for himself every spark of fire +which lighted, burned, and perhaps consumed him. He must +win the battle of life with his own hand, and with his own eyes, +and was obliged to act as general, captain, ensign, +non-commissioned officer, private, drummer, great arms, small +arms, infantry, cavalry, all in his own unaided self. When, +therefore, I ask help for the artist, I do not make my appeal for +one who was a cripple from his birth, but I ask it as part +payment of a great debt which all sensible and civilised +creatures owe to art, as a mark of respect to art, as a +decoration—not as a badge—as a remembrance of what +this land, or any land, would be without art, and as the token of +an appreciation of the works of the most successful artists of +this country. With respect to the society of which I am the +advocate, I am gratified that it is so liberally supported by the +most distinguished artists, and that it has the confidence of men +who occupy the highest rank as artists, above the reach of +reverses, and the most distinguished in success and fame, and +whose support is above all price. Artists who have obtained +wide-world reputation know well that many deserving and +persevering men, or their widows and orphans, have received help +from this fund, and some of the artists who have received this +help are now enrolled among the subscribers to the +Institution.</p> +<h2><a name="page172"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +172</span>XXVI.<br /> +LONDON, MAY 20, 1862.</h2> +<p class="gutsumm">[The following speech was made by Mr. Dickens, +in his capacity as chairman, at the annual Festival of the +Newsvendors’ and Provident Institution, held at the +Freemasons’ Tavern on the above date.]</p> +<p><span class="smcap">When</span> I had the honour of being +asked to preside last year, I was prevented by indisposition, and +I besought my friend, Mr. Wilkie Collins, to reign in my +stead. He very kindly complied, and made an excellent +speech. Now I tell you the truth, that I read that speech +with considerable uneasiness, for it inspired me with a strong +misgiving that I had better have presided last year with +neuralgia in my face and my subject in my head, rather than +preside this year with my neuralgia all gone and my subject +anticipated. Therefore, I wish to preface the toast this +evening by making the managers of this Institution one very +solemn and repentant promise, and it is, if ever I find myself +obliged to provide a substitute again, they may rely upon my +sending the most speechless man of my acquaintance.</p> +<p>The Chairman last year presented you with an amiable view of +the universality of the newsman’s calling. Nothing, I +think, is left for me but to imagine the newsman’s burden +itself, to unfold one of those wonderful sheets which he every +day disseminates, and to take a bird’s-eye view of its +general character and contents. So, if you please, choosing +my own time—though the newsman cannot choose his time, for +he must be equally active in winter or summer, in sunshine or +sleet, in light or darkness, early or late—but, choosing my +own time, I shall for two or three moments start off with the +newsman on a fine May morning, and take a view of the wonderful +broadsheets which every day he scatters broadcast over the +country. Well, the first thing that occurs to me following +the newsman is, that every day we are born, that every day we are +married—some of us—and that every day we are dead; +consequently, the first thing the newsvendor’s column +informs me is, that Atkins has been born, that Catkins has been +married, and that Datkins is dead. But the most remarkable +thing I immediately discover in the next column, is that Atkins +has grown to be seventeen years old, and that he has run away; +for, at last, my eye lights on the fact that William A., who is +seventeen years old, is adjured immediately to return to his +disconsolate parents, and everything will be arranged to the +satisfaction of everyone. I am afraid he will never return, +simply because, if he had meant to come back, he would never have +gone away. Immediately below, I find a mysterious character +in such a mysterious difficulty that it is only to be expressed +by several disjointed letters, by several figures, and several +stars; and then I find the explanation in the intimation that the +writer has given his property over to his uncle, and that the +elephant is on the wing. Then, still glancing over the +shoulder of my industrious friend, the newsman, I find there are +great fleets of ships bound to all parts of the earth, that they +all want a little more stowage, a little more cargo, that they +have a few more berths to let, that they have all the most +spacious decks, that they are all built of teak, and +copper-bottomed, that they all carry surgeons of experience, and +that they are all A1 at Lloyds’, and anywhere else. +Still glancing over the shoulder of my friend the newsman, I find +I am offered all kinds of house-lodging, clerks, servants, and +situations, which I can possibly or impossibly want. I +learn, to my intense gratification, that I need never grow old, +that I may always preserve the juvenile bloom of my complexion; +that if ever I turn ill it is entirely my own fault; that if I +have any complaint, and want brown cod-liver oil or Turkish +baths, I am told where to get them, and that, if I want an income +of seven pounds a-week, I may have it by sending half-a-crown in +postage-stamps. Then I look to the police intelligence, and +I can discover that I may bite off a human living nose cheaply, +but if I take off the dead nose of a pig or a calf from a +shop-window, it will cost me exceedingly dear. I also find +that if I allow myself to be betrayed into the folly of killing +an inoffensive tradesman on his own door-step, that little +incident will not affect the testimonials to my character, but +that I shall be described as a most amiable young man, and as, +above all things, remarkable for the singular inoffensiveness of +my character and disposition. Then I turn my eye to the +Fine Arts, and, under that head, I see that a certain “J. +O.” has most triumphantly exposed a certain “J. O. +B.,” which “J. O. B.” was remarkable for this +particular ugly feature, that I was requested to deprive myself +of the best of my pictures for six months; that for that time it +was to be hung on a wet wall, and that I was to be requited for +my courtesy in having my picture most impertinently covered with +a wet blanket. To sum up the results of a glance over my +newsman’s shoulder, it gives a comprehensive knowledge of +what is going on over the continent of Europe, and also of what +is going on over the continent of America, to say nothing of such +little geographical regions as India and China.</p> +<p>Now, my friends, this is the glance over the newsman’s +shoulders from the whimsical point of view, which is the point, I +believe, that most promotes digestion. The newsman is to be +met with on steamboats, railway stations, and at every +turn. His profits are small, he has a great amount of +anxiety and care, and no little amount of personal wear and +tear. He is indispensable to civilization and freedom, and +he is looked for with pleasurable excitement every day, except +when he lends the paper for an hour, and when he is punctual in +calling for it, which is sometimes very painful. I think +the lesson we can learn from our newsman is some new illustration +of the uncertainty of life, some illustration of its vicissitudes +and fluctuations. Mindful of this permanent lesson, some +members of the trade originated this society, which affords them +assistance in time of sickness and indigence. The +subscription is infinitesimal. It amounts annually to five +shillings. Looking at the returns before me, the progress +of the society would seem to be slow, but it has only been slow +for the best of all reasons, that it has been sure. The +pensions granted are all obtained from the interest on the funded +capital, and, therefore, the Institution is literally as safe as +the Bank. It is stated that there are several newsvendors +who are not members of this society; but that is true in all +institutions which have come under my experience. The +persons who are most likely to stand in need of the benefits +which an institution confers, are usually the persons to keep +away until bitter experience comes to them too late.</p> +<h2><a name="page176"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +176</span>XXVII.<br /> +LONDON, MAY 11, 1864.</h2> +<p class="gutsumm">[On the above date Mr. Dickens presided at the +Adelphi Theatre, at a public meeting, for the purpose of founding +the Shakespeare Schools, in connexion with the Royal Dramatic +College, and delivered the following address:]</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Ladies and +gentlemen</span>—Fortunately for me, and fortunately for +you, it is the duty of the Chairman on an occasion of this +nature, to be very careful that he does not anticipate those +speakers who come after him. Like Falstaff, with a +considerable difference, he has to be the cause of speaking in +others. It is rather his duty to sit and hear speeches with +exemplary attention than to stand up to make them; so I shall +confine myself, in opening these proceedings as your business +official, to as plain and as short an exposition as I can +possibly give you of the reasons why we come together.</p> +<p>First of all I will take leave to remark that we do not come +together in commemoration of Shakespeare. We have nothing +to do with any commemoration, except that we are of course humble +worshippers of that mighty genius, and that we propose by-and-by +to take his name, but by no means to take it in vain. If, +however, the Tercentenary celebration were a hundred years hence, +or a hundred years past, we should still be pursuing precisely +the same object, though we should not pursue it under precisely +the same circumstances. The facts are these: There is, as +you know, in existence an admirable institution called the Royal +Dramatic College, which is a place of honourable rest and repose +for veterans in the dramatic art. The charter of this +college, which dates some five or six years back, expressly +provides for the establishment of schools in connexion with it; +and I may venture to add that this feature of the scheme, when it +was explained to him, was specially interesting to his Royal +Highness the late Prince Consort, who hailed it as evidence of +the desire of the promoters to look forward as well as to look +back; to found educational institutions for the rising +generation, as well as to establish a harbour of refuge for the +generation going out, or at least having their faces turned +towards the setting sun. The leading members of the +dramatic art, applying themselves first to the more pressing +necessity of the two, set themselves to work on the construction +of their harbour of refuge, and this they did with the zeal, +energy, good-will, and good faith that always honourably +distinguish them in their efforts to help one another. +Those efforts were very powerfully aided by the respected +gentleman <a name="citation177"></a><a href="#footnote177" +class="citation">[177]</a> under whose roof we are assembled, and +who, I hope, may be only half as glad of seeing me on these +boards as I always am to see him here. With such energy and +determination did Mr. Webster and his brothers and sisters in art +proceed with their work, that at this present time all the +dwelling-houses of the Royal Dramatic College are built, +completely furnished, fitted with every appliance, and many of +them inhabited. The central hall of the College is built, +the grounds are beautifully planned and laid out, and the estate +has become the nucleus of a prosperous neighbourhood. This +much achieved, Mr. Webster was revolving in his mind how he +should next proceed towards the establishment of the schools, +when, this Tercentenary celebration being in hand, it occurred to +him to represent to the National Shakespeare Committee their just +and reasonable claim to participate in the results of any +subscription for a monument to Shakespeare. He represented +to the committee that the social recognition and elevation of the +followers of Shakespeare’s own art, through the education +of their children, was surely a monument worthy even of that +great name. He urged upon the committee that it was +certainly a sensible, tangible project, which the public good +sense would immediately appreciate and approve. This claim +the committee at once acknowledged; but I wish you distinctly to +understand that if the committee had never been in existence, if +the Tercentenary celebration had never been attempted, those +schools, as a design anterior to both, would still have solicited +public support.</p> +<p>Now, ladies and gentlemen, what it is proposed to do is, in +fact, to find a new self-supporting public school; with this +additional feature, that it is to be available for both +sexes. This, of course, presupposes two separate distinct +schools. As these schools are to be built on land belonging +to the Dramatic College, there will be from the first no charge, +no debt, no incumbrance of any kind under that important +head. It is, in short, proposed simply to establish a new +self-supporting public school, in a rapidly increasing +neighbourhood, where there is a large and fast accumulating +middle-class population, and where property in land is fast +rising in value. But, inasmuch as the project is a project +of the Royal Dramatic College, and inasmuch as the schools are to +be built on their estate, it is proposed evermore to give their +schools the great name of Shakespeare, and evermore to give the +followers of Shakespeare’s art a prominent place in +them. With this view, it is confidently believed that the +public will endow a foundation, say, for forty foundation +scholars—say, twenty girls and twenty boys—who shall +always receive their education gratuitously, and who shall always +be the children of actors, actresses, or dramatic writers. +This school, you will understand, is to be equal to the best +existing public school. It is to be made to impart a sound, +liberal, comprehensive education, and it is to address the whole +great middle class at least as freely, as widely, and as cheaply +as any existing public school.</p> +<p>Broadly, ladies and gentlemen, this is the whole design. +There are foundation scholars at Eton, foundation scholars at +nearly all our old schools, and if the public, in remembrance of +a noble part of our standard national literature, and in +remembrance of a great humanising art, will do this thing for +these children, it will at the same time be doing a wise and good +thing for itself, and will unquestionably find its account in +it. Taking this view of the case—and I cannot be +satisfied to take any lower one—I cannot make a sorry face +about “the poor player.” I think it is a term +very much misused and very little understood—being, I +venture to say, appropriated in a wrong sense by players +themselves. Therefore, ladies and gentlemen, I can only +present the player to you exceptionally in this wise—that +he follows a peculiar and precarious vocation, a vocation very +rarely affording the means of accumulating money—that that +vocation must, from the nature of things, have in it many +undistinguished men and women to one distinguished one—that +it is not a vocation the exerciser of which can profit by the +labours of others, but in which he must earn every loaf of his +bread in his own person, with the aid of his own face, his own +limbs, his own voice, his own memory, and his own life and +spirits; and these failing, he fails. Surely this is reason +enough to render him some little help in opening for his children +their paths through life. I say their paths advisedly, +because it is not often found, except under the pressure of +necessity, or where there is strong hereditary talent—which +is always an exceptional case—that the children of actors +and actresses take to the stage. Persons therefore need not +in the least fear that by helping to endow these schools they +would help to overstock the dramatic market. They would do +directly the reverse, for they would divert into channels of +public distinction and usefulness those good qualities which +would otherwise languish in that market’s over-rich +superabundance.</p> +<p>This project has received the support of the head of the most +popular of our English public schools. On the committee +stands the name of that eminent scholar and gentleman, the +Provost of Eton. You justly admire this liberal spirit, and +your admiration—which I cordially share—brings me +naturally to what I wish to say, that I believe there is not in +England any institution so socially liberal as a public +school. It has been called a little cosmos of life outside, +and I think it is so, with the exception of one of life’s +worst foibles—for, as far as I know, nowhere in this +country is there so complete an absence of servility to mere +rank, to mere position, to mere riches as in a public +school. A boy there is always what his abilities or his +personal qualities make him. We may differ about the +curriculum and other matters, but of the frank, free, manly, +independent spirit preserved in our public schools, I apprehend +there can be no kind of question. It has happened in these +later times that objection has been made to children of dramatic +artists in certain little snivelling private schools—but in +public schools never. Therefore, I hold that the actors are +wise, and gratefully wise, in recognizing the capacious +liberality of a public school, in seeking not a little +hole-and-corner place of education for their children +exclusively, but in addressing the whole of the great middle +class, and proposing to them to come and join them, the actors, +on their own property, in a public school, in a part of the +country where no such advantage is now to be found.</p> +<p>I have now done. The attempt has been a very timid +one. I have endeavoured to confine myself within my means, +or, rather, like the possessor of an extended estate, to hand it +down in an unembarrassed condition. I have laid a trifle of +timber here and there, and grubbed up a little brushwood, but +merely to open the view, and I think I can descry in the eye of +the gentleman who is to move the first resolution that he +distinctly sees his way. Thanking you for the courtesy with +which you have heard me, and not at all doubting that we shall +lay a strong foundation of these schools to-day, I will call, as +the mover of the first resolution, on Mr. Robert Bell.</p> +<h2><a name="page182"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +182</span>XXVIII.<br /> +LONDON, MAY 9, 1865.</h2> +<p class="gutsumm">[On the above date Mr. Dickens presided at the +Annual Festival of the Newsvendors’ Benevolent and +Provident Association, and, in proposing the toast of the +evening, delivered the following speech.]</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Ladies and gentlemen</span>,—Dr. +Johnson’s experience of that club, the members of which +have travelled over one another’s minds in every direction, +is not to be compared with the experience of the perpetual +president of a society like this. Having on previous +occasions said everything about it that he could possibly find to +say, he is again produced, with the same awful formalities, to +say everything about it that he cannot possibly find to +say. It struck me, when Dr. F. Jones was referring just now +to Easter Monday, that the case of such an ill-starred president +is very like that of the stag at Epping Forest on Easter +Monday. That unfortunate animal when he is uncarted at the +spot where the meet takes place, generally makes a point, I am +told, of making away at a cool trot, venturesomely followed by +the whole field, to the yard where he lives, and there subsides +into a quiet and inoffensive existence, until he is again brought +out to be again followed by exactly the same field, under exactly +the same circumstances, next Easter Monday.</p> +<p>The difficulties of the situation—and here I mean the +president and not the stag—are greatly increased in such an +instance as this by the peculiar nature of the institution. +In its unpretending solidity, reality, and usefulness, believe +me—for I have carefully considered the point—it +presents no opening whatever of an oratorical nature. If it +were one of those costly charities, so called, whose yield of +wool bears no sort of proportion to their cry for cash, I very +likely might have a word or two to say on the subject. If +its funds were lavished in patronage and show, instead of being +honestly expended in providing small annuities for hard-working +people who have themselves contributed to its funds—if its +management were intrusted to people who could by no possibility +know anything about it, instead of being invested in plain, +business, practical hands—if it hoarded when it ought to +spend—if it got by cringing and fawning what it never +deserved, I might possibly impress you very much by my +indignation. If its managers could tell me that it was +insolvent, that it was in a hopeless condition, that its accounts +had been kept by Mr. Edmunds—or by +“Tom,”—if its treasurer had run away with the +money-box, then I might have made a pathetic appeal to your +feelings. But I have no such chance. Just as a nation +is happy whose records are barren, so is a society fortunate that +has no history—and its president unfortunate. I can +only assure you that this society continues its plain, +unobtrusive, useful career. I can only assure you that it +does a great deal of good at a very small cost, and that the +objects of its care and the bulk of its members are faithful +working servants of the public—sole ministers of their +wants at untimely hours, in all seasons, and in all weathers; at +their own doors, at the street-corners, at every railway train, +at every steam-boat; through the agency of every establishment +and the tiniest little shops; and that, whether regarded as +master or as man, their profits are very modest and their risks +numerous, while their trouble and responsibility are very +great.</p> +<p>The newsvendors and newsmen are a very subordinate part of +that wonderful engine—the newspaper press. Still I +think we all know very well that they are to the fountain-head +what a good service of water pipes is to a good water +supply. Just as a goodly store of water at Watford would be +a tantalization to thirsty London if it were not brought into +town for its use, so any amount of news accumulated at +Printing-house Square, or Fleet Street, or the Strand, would be +if there were no skill and enterprise engaged in its +dissemination.</p> +<p>We are all of us in the habit of saying in our every-day life, +that “We never know the value of anything until we lose +it.” Let us try the newsvendors by the test. A +few years ago we discovered one morning that there was a strike +among the cab-drivers. Now, let us imagine a strike of +newsmen. Imagine the trains waiting in vain for the +newspapers. Imagine all sorts and conditions of men dying +to know the shipping news, the commercial news, the foreign news, +the legal news, the criminal news, the dramatic news. +Imagine the paralysis on all the provincial exchanges; the +silence and desertion of all the newsmen’s exchanges in +London. Imagine the circulation of the blood of the nation +and of the country standing still,—the clock of the +world. Why, even Mr. Reuter, the great Reuter—whom I +am always glad to imagine slumbering at night by the side of Mrs. +Reuter, with a galvanic battery under his bolster, bell and wires +to the head of his bed, and bells at each ear—think how +even he would click and flash those wondrous dispatches of his, +and how they would become mere nothing without the activity and +honesty which catch up the threads and stitches of the electric +needle, and scatter them over the land.</p> +<p>It is curious to consider—and the thought occurred to me +this day, when I was out for a stroll pondering over the duties +of this evening, which even then were looming in the distance, +but not quite so far off as I could wish—I found it very +curious to consider that though the newsman must be allowed to be +a very unpicturesque rendering of Mercury, or Fame, or what-not +conventional messenger from the clouds, and although we must +allow that he is of this earth, and has a good deal of it on his +boots, still that he has two very remarkable characteristics, to +which none of his celestial predecessors can lay the slightest +claim. One is that he is always the messenger of +civilization; the other that he is at least equally so—not +only in what he brings, but in what he ceases to bring. +Thus the time was, and not so many years ago either, when the +newsman constantly brought home to our doors—though I am +afraid not to our hearts, which were custom-hardened—the +most terrific accounts of murders, of our fellow-creatures being +publicly put to death for what we now call trivial offences, in +the very heart of London, regularly every Monday morning. +At the same time the newsman regularly brought to us the +infliction of other punishments, which were demoralising to the +innocent part of the community, while they did not operate as +punishments in deterring offenders from the perpetration of +crimes. In those same days, also, the newsman brought to us +daily accounts of a regularly accepted and received system of +loading the unfortunate insane with chains, littering them down +on straw, starving them on bread and water, damaging their +clothes, and making periodical exhibitions of them at a small +charge; and that on a Sunday one of our public resorts was a kind +of demoniacal zoological gardens. They brought us accounts +at the same time of some damage done to the machinery which was +destined to supply the operative classes with employment. +In the same time they brought us accounts of riots for bread, +which were constantly occurring, and undermining society and the +state; of the most terrible explosions of class against class, +and of the habitual employment of spies for the +discovery—if not for the origination—of plots, in +which both sides found in those days some relief. In the +same time the same newsmen were apprising us of a state of +society all around us in which the grossest sensuality and +intemperance were the rule; and not as now, when the ignorant, +the wicked, and the wretched are the inexcusably vicious +exceptions—a state of society in which the professional +bully was rampant, and when deadly duels were daily fought for +the most absurd and disgraceful causes. All this the +newsman has ceased to tell us of. This state of society has +discontinued in England for ever; and when we remember the +undoubted truth, that the change could never have been effected +without the aid of the load which the newsman carries, surely it +is not very romantic to express the hope on his behalf that the +public will show to him some little token of the sympathetic +remembrance which we are all of us glad to bestow on the bearers +of happy tidings—the harbingers of good news.</p> +<p>Now, ladies and gentlemen, you will be glad to hear that I am +coming to a conclusion; for that conclusion I have a +precedent. You all of you know how pleased you are on your +return from a morning’s walk to learn that the collector +has called. Well, I am the collector for this district, and +I hope you will bear in mind that I have respectfully +called. Regarding the institution on whose behalf I have +presented myself, I need only say technically two things. +First, that its annuities are granted out of its funded capital, +and therefore it is safe as the Bank; and, secondly, that they +are attainable by such a slight exercise of prudence and +fore-thought, that a payment of 25<i>s.</i> extending over a +period of five years, entitles a subscriber—if a +male—to an annuity of £16 a-year, and a female to +£12 a-year. Now, bear in mind that this is an +institution on behalf of which the collector has called, leaving +behind his assurance that what you can give to one of the most +faithful of your servants shall be well bestowed and faithfully +applied to the purposes to which you intend them, and to those +purposes alone.</p> +<h2><a name="page188"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +188</span>XXIX.<br /> +NEWSPAPER PRESS FUND.<br /> +LONDON, MAY 20, 1865.</h2> +<p class="gutsumm">[At the second annual dinner of the +Institution, held at the Freemasons’ Tavern, on Saturday, +the 20th May, 1865, the following speech was delivered by the +chairman, Mr. Charles Dickens, in proposing the toast of the +evening:]</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Ladies and gentlemen</span>,—When a +young child is produced after dinner to be shown to a circle of +admiring relations and friends, it may generally be observed that +their conversation—I suppose in an instinctive remembrance +of the uncertainty of infant life—takes a retrospective +turn. As how much the child has grown since the last +dinner; what a remarkably fine child it is, to have been born +only two or three years ago, how much stronger it looks now than +before it had the measles, and so forth. When a young +institution is produced after dinner, there is not the same +uncertainty or delicacy as in the case of the child, and it may +be confidently predicted of it that if it deserve to live it will +surely live, and that if it deserve to die it will surely +die. The proof of desert in such a case as this must be +mainly sought, I suppose, firstly, in what the society means to +do with its money; secondly, in the extent to which it is +supported by the class with whom it originated, and for whose +benefit it is designed; and, lastly, in the power of its hold +upon the public. I add this lastly, because no such +institution that ever I heard of ever yet dreamed of existing +apart from the public, or ever yet considered it a degradation to +accept the public support.</p> +<p>Now, what the Newspaper Press Fund proposes to do with its +money is to grant relief to members in want or distress, and to +the widows, families, parents, or other near relatives of +deceased members in right of a moderate provident annual +subscription—commutable, I observe, for a moderate +provident life subscription—and its members comprise the +whole paid class of literary contributors to the press of the +United Kingdom, and every class of reporters. The number of +its members at this time last year was something below 100. +At the present time it is somewhat above 170, not including 30 +members of the press who are regular subscribers, but have not as +yet qualified as regular members. This number is steadily +on the increase, not only as regards the metropolitan press, but +also as regards the provincial throughout the country. I +have observed within these few days that many members of the +press at Manchester have lately at a meeting expressed a strong +brotherly interest in this Institution, and a great desire to +extend its operations, and to strengthen its hands, provided that +something in the independent nature of life assurance and the +purchase of deferred annuities could be introduced into its +details, and always assuming that in it the metropolis and the +provinces stand on perfectly equal ground. This appears to +me to be a demand so very moderate, that I can hardly have a +doubt of a response on the part of the managers, or of the +beneficial and harmonious results. It only remains to add, +on this head of desert, the agreeable circumstance that out of +all the money collected in aid of the society during the last +year more than one-third came exclusively from the press.</p> +<p>Now, ladies and gentlemen, in regard to the last +claim—the last point of desert—the hold upon the +public—I think I may say that probably not one single +individual in this great company has failed to-day to see a +newspaper, or has failed to-day to hear something derived from a +newspaper which was quite unknown to him or to her +yesterday. Of all those restless crowds that have this day +thronged the streets of this enormous city, the same may be said +as the general gigantic rule. It may be said almost +equally, of the brightest and the dullest, the largest and the +least provincial town in the empire; and this, observe, not only +as to the active, the industrious, and the healthy among the +population, but also to the bedridden, the idle, the blind, and +the deaf and dumb. Now, if the men who provide this +all-pervading presence, this wonderful, ubiquitous newspaper, +with every description of intelligence on every subject of human +interest, collected with immense pains and immense patience, +often by the exercise of a laboriously-acquired faculty united to +a natural aptitude, much of the work done in the night, at the +sacrifice of rest and sleep, and (quite apart from the mental +strain) by the constant overtasking of the two most delicate of +the senses, sight and hearing—I say, if the men who, +through the newspapers, from day to day, or from night to night, +or from week to week, furnish the public with so much to +remember, have not a righteous claim to be remembered by the +public in return, then I declare before God I know no working +class of the community who have.</p> +<p>It would be absurd, it would be impertinent, in such an +assembly as this, if I were to attempt to expatiate upon the +extraordinary combination of remarkable qualities involved in the +production of any newspaper. But assuming the majority of +this associated body to be composed of reporters, because +reporters, of one kind or other, compose the majority of the +literary staff of almost every newspaper that is not a +compilation, I would venture to remind you, if I delicately may, +in the august presence of members of Parliament, how much we, the +public, owe to the reporters if it were only for their skill in +the two great sciences of condensation and rejection. +Conceive what our sufferings, under an Imperial Parliament, +however popularly constituted, under however glorious a +constitution, would be if the reporters could not skip. Dr. +Johnson, in one of his violent assertions, declared that +“the man who was afraid of anything must be a scoundrel, +sir.” By no means binding myself to this +opinion—though admitting that the man who is afraid of a +newspaper will generally be found to be rather something like it, +I must still freely own that I should approach my Parliamentary +debate with infinite fear and trembling if it were so unskilfully +served up for my breakfast. Ever since the time when the +old man and his son took their donkey home, which were the old +Greek days, I believe, and probably ever since the time when the +donkey went into the ark—perhaps he did not like his +accommodation there—but certainly from that time downwards, +he has objected to go in any direction required of him—from +the remotest periods it has been found impossible to please +everybody.</p> +<p>I do not for a moment seek to conceal that I know this +Institution has been objected to. As an open fact +challenging the freëst discussion and inquiry, and seeking +no sort of shelter or favour but what it can win, it has nothing, +I apprehend, but itself, to urge against objection. No +institution conceived in perfect honesty and good faith has a +right to object to being questioned to any extent, and any +institution so based must be in the end the better for it. +Moreover, that this society has been questioned in quarters +deserving of the most respectful attention I take to be an +indisputable fact. Now, I for one have given that +respectful attention, and I have come out of the discussion to +where you see me. The whole circle of the arts is pervaded +by institutions between which and this I can descry no +difference. The painters’ art has four or five such +institutions. The musicians’ art, so generously and +charmingly represented here, has likewise several such +institutions. In my own art there is one, concerning the +details of which my noble friend the president of the society and +myself have torn each other’s hair to a considerable +extent, and which I would, if I could, assimilate more nearly to +this. In the dramatic art there are four, and I never yet +heard of any objection to their principle, except, indeed, in the +cases of some famous actors of large gains, who having through +the whole period of their successes positively refused to +establish a right in them, became, in their old age and decline, +repentant suppliants for their bounty. Is it urged against +this particular Institution that it is objectionable because a +parliamentary reporter, for instance, might report a subscribing +M.P. in large, and a non-subscribing M.P. in little? Apart +from the sweeping nature of this charge, which, it is to be +observed, lays the unfortunate member and the unfortunate +reporter under pretty much the same suspicion—apart from +this consideration, I reply that it is notorious in all newspaper +offices that every such man is reported according to the position +he can gain in the public eye, and according to the force and +weight of what he has to say. And if there were ever to be +among the members of this society one so very foolish to his +brethren, and so very dishonourable to himself, as venally to +abuse his trust, I confidently ask those here, the best +acquainted with journalism, whether they believe it possible that +any newspaper so ill-conducted as to fail instantly to detect him +could possibly exist as a thriving enterprise for one single +twelvemonth? No, ladies and gentlemen, the blundering +stupidity of such an offence would have no chance against the +acute sagacity of newspaper editors. But I will go further, +and submit to you that its commission, if it be to be dreaded at +all, is far more likely on the part of some recreant +camp-follower of a scattered, disunited, and half-recognized +profession, than when there is a public opinion established in +it, by the union of all classes of its members for the common +good: the tendency of which union must in the nature of things be +to raise the lower members of the press towards the higher, and +never to bring the higher members to the lower level.</p> +<p>I hope I may be allowed in the very few closing words that I +feel a desire to say in remembrance of some circumstances, rather +special, attending my present occupation of this chair, to give +those words something of a personal tone. I am not here +advocating the case of a mere ordinary client of whom I have +little or no knowledge. I hold a brief to-night for my +brothers. I went into the gallery of the House of Commons +as a parliamentary reporter when I was a boy not eighteen, and I +left it—I can hardly believe the inexorable +truth—nigh thirty years ago. I have pursued the +calling of a reporter under circumstances of which many of my +brethren at home in England here, many of my modern successors, +can form no adequate conception. I have often transcribed +for the printer, from my shorthand notes, important public +speeches in which the strictest accuracy was required, and a +mistake in which would have been to a young man severely +compromising, writing on the palm of my hand, by the light of a +dark lantern, in a post-chaise and four, galloping through a wild +country, and through the dead of the night, at the then +surprising rate of fifteen miles an hour. The very last +time I was at Exeter, I strolled into the castle yard there to +identify, for the amusement of a friend, the spot on which I once +“took,” as we used to call it, an election speech of +my noble friend Lord Russell, in the midst of a lively fight +maintained by all the vagabonds in that division of the county, +and under such a pelting rain, that I remember two goodnatured +colleagues, who chanced to be at leisure, held a +pocket-handkerchief over my notebook, after the manner of a state +canopy in an ecclesiastical procession. I have worn my +knees by writing on them on the old back row of the old gallery +of the old House of Commons; and I have worn my feet by standing +to write in a preposterous pen in the old House of Lords, where +we used to be huddled together like so many sheep—kept in +waiting, say, until the woolsack might want re-stuffing. +Returning home from excited political meetings in the country to +the waiting press in London, I do verily believe I have been +upset in almost every description of vehicle known in this +country. I have been, in my time, belated on miry by-roads, +towards the small hours, forty or fifty miles from London, in a +wheelless carriage, with exhausted horses and drunken postboys, +and have got back in time for publication, to be received with +never-forgotten compliments by the late Mr. Black, coming in the +broadest of Scotch from the broadest of hearts I ever knew.</p> +<p>Ladies and gentlemen, I mention these trivial things as an +assurance to you that I never have forgotten the fascination of +that old pursuit. The pleasure that I used to feel in the +rapidity and dexterity of its exercise has never faded out of my +breast. Whatever little cunning of hand or head I took to +it, or acquired in it, I have so retained as that I fully believe +I could resume it to-morrow, very little the worse from long +disuse. To this present year of my life, when I sit in this +hall, or where not, hearing a dull speech, the phenomenon does +occur—I sometimes beguile the tedium of the moment by +mentally following the speaker in the old, old way; and +sometimes, if you can believe me, I even find my hand going on +the table-cloth, taking an imaginary note of it all. Accept +these little truths as a confirmation of what I know; as a +confirmation of my undying interest in this old calling. +Accept them as a proof that my feeling for the location of my +youth is not a sentiment taken up to-night to be thrown away +to-morrow—but is a faithful sympathy which is a part of +myself. I verily believe—I am sure—that if I +had never quitted my old calling I should have been foremost and +zealous in the interests of this Institution, believing it to be +a sound, a wholesome, and a good one. Ladies and gentlemen, +I am to propose to you to drink “Prosperity to the +Newspaper Press Fund,” with which toast I will connect, as +to its acknowledgment, a name that has shed new brilliancy on +even the foremost newspaper in the world—the illustrious +name of Mr. Russell.</p> +<h2><a name="page196"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +196</span>XXX.<br /> +KNEBWORTH, JULY 29, 1865.</h2> +<p class="gutsumm">[On the above date the members of the +“Guild of Literature and Art” proceeded to the +neighbourhood of Stevenage, near the magnificent seat of the +President, Lord Lytton, to inspect three houses built in the +Gothic style, on the ground given by him for the purpose. +After their survey, the party drove to Knebworth to partake of +the hospitality of Lord Lytton. Mr. Dickens, who was one of +the guests, proposed the health of the host in the following +words:]</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Ladies and gentlemen</span>,—It was +said by a very sagacious person, whose authority I am sure my +friend of many years will not impugn, seeing that he was named +Augustus Tomlinson, the kind friend and philosopher of Paul +Clifford—it was said by that remarkable man, “Life is +short, and why should speeches be long?” An aphorism +so sensible under all circumstances, and particularly in the +circumstances in which we are placed, with this delicious weather +and such charming gardens near us, I shall practically adopt on +the present occasion; and the rather so because the speech of my +friend was exhaustive of the subject, as his speeches always are, +though not in the least exhaustive of his audience. In +thanking him for the toast which he has done us the honour to +propose, allow me to correct an error into which he has +fallen. Allow me to state that these houses never could +have been built but for his zealous and valuable co-operation, +and also that the pleasant labour out of which they have arisen +would have lost one of its greatest charms and strongest +impulses, if it had lost his ever ready sympathy with that class +in which he has risen to the foremost rank, and of which he is +the brightest ornament.</p> +<p>Having said this much as simply due to my friend, I can only +say, on behalf of my associates, that the ladies and gentlemen +whom we shall invite to occupy the houses we have built will +never be placed under any social disadvantage. They will be +invited to occupy them as artists, receiving them as a mark of +the high respect in which they are held by their +fellow-workers. As artists I hope they will often exercise +their calling within those walls for the general advantage; and +they will always claim, on equal terms, the hospitality of their +generous neighbour.</p> +<p>Now I am sure I shall be giving utterance to the feelings of +my brothers and sisters in literature in proposing “Health, +long life, and prosperity to our distinguished host.” +Ladies and gentlemen, you know very well that when the health, +life, and beauty now overflowing these halls shall have fled, +crowds of people will come to see the place where he lived and +wrote. Setting aside the orator and statesman—for +happily we know no party here but this agreeable +party—setting aside all, this you know very well, that this +is the home of a very great man whose connexion with +Hertfordshire every other county in England will envy for many +long years to come. You know that when this hall is dullest +and emptiest you can make it when you please brightest and +fullest by peopling it with the creations of his brilliant +fancy. Let us all wish together that they may be many +more—for the more they are the better it will be, and, as +he always excels himself, the better they will be. I ask +you to listen to their praises and not to mine, and to let them, +not me, propose his health.</p> +<h2><a name="page198"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +198</span>XXXI.<br /> +LONDON, FEBRUARY 14, 1866.</h2> +<p class="gutsumm">[On this occasion Mr. Dickens officiated as +Chairman at the annual dinner of the Dramatic, Equestrian, and +Musical Fund, at Willis’s Rooms, where he made the +following speech:]</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Ladies</span>, before I couple you with +the gentlemen, which will be at least proper to the inscription +over my head (St. Valentine’s day)—before I do so, +allow me, on behalf of my grateful sex here represented, to thank +you for the great pleasure and interest with which your gracious +presence at these festivals never fails to inspire us. +There is no English custom which is so manifestly a relic of +savage life as that custom which usually excludes you from +participation in similar gatherings. And although the crime +carries its own heavy punishment along with it, in respect that +it divests a public dinner of its most beautiful ornament and of +its most fascinating charm, still the offence is none the less to +be severely reprehended on every possible occasion, as outraging +equally nature and art. I believe that as little is known +of the saint whose name is written here as can well be known of +any saint or sinner. We, your loyal servants, are deeply +thankful to him for having somehow gained possession of one day +in the year—for having, as no doubt he has, arranged the +almanac for 1866—expressly to delight us with the +enchanting fiction that we have some tender proprietorship in you +which we should scarcely dare to claim on a less auspicious +occasion. Ladies, the utmost devotion sanctioned by the +saint we beg to lay at your feet, and any little innocent +privileges to which we may be entitled by the same authority we +beg respectfully but firmly to claim at your hands.</p> +<p>Now, ladies and gentlemen, you need no ghost to inform you +that I am going to propose “Prosperity to the Dramatic, +Musical, and Equestrian Sick Fund Association,” and, +further, that I should be going to ask you actively to promote +that prosperity by liberally contributing to its funds, if that +task were not reserved for a much more persuasive speaker. +But I rest the strong claim of the society for its useful +existence and its truly charitable functions on a very few words, +though, as well as I can recollect, upon something like six +grounds. First, it relieves the sick; secondly, it buries +the dead; thirdly, it enables the poor members of the profession +to journey to accept new engagements whenever they find +themselves stranded in some remote, inhospitable place, or when, +from other circumstances, they find themselves perfectly crippled +as to locomotion for want of money; fourthly, it often finds such +engagements for them by acting as their honest, disinterested +agent; fifthly, it is its principle to act humanely upon the +instant, and never, as is too often the case within my +experience, to beat about the bush till the bush is withered and +dead; lastly, the society is not in the least degree exclusive, +but takes under its comprehensive care the whole range of the +theatre and the concert-room, from the manager in his room of +state, or in his caravan, or at the drum-head—down to the +theatrical housekeeper, who is usually to be found amongst the +cobwebs and the flies, or down to the hall porter, who passes his +life in a thorough draught—and, to the best of my +observation, in perpetually interrupted endeavours to eat +something with a knife and fork out of a basin, by a dusty fire, +in that extraordinary little gritty room, upon which the sun +never shines, and on the portals of which are inscribed the magic +words, “stage-door.”</p> +<p>Now, ladies and gentlemen, this society administers its +benefits sometimes by way of loan; sometimes by way of gift; +sometimes by way of assurance at very low premiums; sometimes to +members, oftener to non-members; always expressly, remember, +through the hands of a secretary or committee well acquainted +with the wants of the applicants, and thoroughly versed, if not +by hard experience at least by sympathy, in the calamities and +uncertainties incidental to the general calling. One must +know something of the general calling to know what those +afflictions are. A lady who had been upon the stage from +her earliest childhood till she was a blooming woman, and who +came from a long line of provincial actors and actresses, once +said to me when she was happily married; when she was rich, +beloved, courted; when she was mistress of a fine +house—once said to me at the head of her own table, +surrounded by distinguished guests of every degree, “Oh, +but I have never forgotten the hard time when I was on the stage, +and when my baby brother died, and when my poor mother and I +brought the little baby from Ireland to England, and acted three +nights in England, as we had acted three nights in Ireland, with +the pretty creature lying upon the only bed in our lodging before +we got the money to pay for its funeral.”</p> +<p>Ladies and gentlemen, such things are, every day, to this +hour; but, happily, at this day and in this hour this association +has arisen to be the timely friend of such great distress.</p> +<p>It is not often the fault of the sufferers that they fall into +these straits. Struggling artists must necessarily change +from place to place, and thus it frequently happens that they +become, as it were, strangers in every place, and very slight +circumstances—a passing illness, the sickness of the +husband, wife, or child, a serious town, an anathematising +expounder of the gospel of gentleness and forbearance—any +one of these causes may often in a few hours wreck them upon a +rock in the barren ocean; and then, happily, this society, with +the swift alacrity of the life-boat, dashes to the rescue, and +takes them off. Looking just now over the last report +issued by this society, and confining my scrutiny to the head of +illness alone, I find that in one year, I think, 672 days of +sickness had been assuaged by its means. In nine years, +which then formed the term of its existence, as many as 5,500 and +odd. Well, I thought when I saw 5,500 and odd days of +sickness, this is a very serious sum, but add the nights! +Add the nights—those long, dreary hours in the twenty-four +when the shadow of death is darkest, when despondency is +strongest, and when hope is weakest, before you gauge the good +that is done by this institution, and before you gauge the good +that really will be done by every shilling that you bestow here +to-night. Add, more than all, that the improvidence, the +recklessness of the general multitude of poor members of this +profession, I should say is a cruel, conventional fable. +Add that there is no class of society the members of which so +well help themselves, or so well help each other. Not in +the whole grand chapters of Westminster Abbey and York Minster, +not in the whole quadrangle of the Royal Exchange, not in the +whole list of members of the Stock Exchange, not in the Inns of +Court, not in the College of Physicians, not in the College of +Surgeons, can there possibly be found more remarkable instances +of uncomplaining poverty, of cheerful, constant self-denial, of +the generous remembrance of the claims of kindred and +professional brotherhood, than will certainly be found in the +dingiest and dirtiest concert room, in the least lucid +theatre—even in the raggedest tent circus that was ever +stained by weather.</p> +<p>I have been twitted in print before now with rather flattering +actors when I address them as one of their trustees at their +General Fund dinner. Believe me, I flatter nobody, unless +it be sometimes myself; but, in such a company as the present, I +always feel it my manful duty to bear my testimony to this +fact—first, because it is opposed to a stupid, unfeeling +libel; secondly, because my doing so may afford some slight +encouragement to the persons who are unjustly depreciated; and +lastly, and most of all, because I know it is the truth.</p> +<p>Now, ladies and gentlemen, it is time we should what we +professionally call “ring down” on these +remarks. If you, such members of the general public as are +here, will only think the great theatrical curtain has really +fallen and been taken up again for the night on that dull, dark +vault which many of us know so well; if you will only think of +the theatre or other place of entertainment as empty; if you will +only think of the “float,” or other gas-fittings, as +extinguished; if you will only think of the people who have +beguiled you of an evening’s care, whose little vanities +and almost childish foibles are engendered in their competing +face to face with you for your favour—surely it may be said +their feelings are partly of your making, while their virtues are +all their own. If you will only do this, and follow them +out of that sham place into the real world, where it rains real +rain, snows real snow, and blows real wind; where people sustain +themselves by real money, which is much harder to get, much +harder to make, and very much harder to give away than the pieces +of tobacco-pipe in property bags—if you will only do this, +and do it in a really kind, considerate spirit, this society, +then certain of the result of the night’s proceedings, can +ask no more. I beg to propose to you to drink +“Prosperity to the Dramatic, Equestrian, and Musical Sick +Fund Association.”</p> + +<div class="gapshortline"> </div> +<p>[Mr. Dickens, in proposing the next toast, said:—]</p> +<p>Gentlemen: as I addressed myself to the ladies last time, so I +address you this time, and I give you the delightful assurance +that it is positively my last appearance but one on the present +occasion. A certain Mr. Pepys, who was Secretary for the +Admiralty in the days of Charles II., who kept a diary well in +shorthand, which he supposed no one could read, and which +consequently remains to this day the most honest diary known to +print—Mr. Pepys had two special and very strong likings, +the ladies and the theatres. But Mr. Pepys, whenever he +committed any slight act of remissness, or any little peccadillo +which was utterly and wholly untheatrical, used to comfort his +conscience by recording a vow that he would abstain from the +theatres for a certain time. In the first part of Mr. +Pepys’ character I have no doubt we fully agree with him; +in the second I have no doubt we do not.</p> +<p>I learn this experience of Mr. Pepys from remembrance of a +passage in his diary that I was reading the other night, from +which it appears that he was not only curious in plays, but +curious in sermons; and that one night when he happened to be +walking past St. Dunstan’s Church, he turned, went in, and +heard what he calls “a very edifying discourse;” +during the delivery of which discourse, he notes in his +diary—“I stood by a pretty young maid, whom I did +attempt to take by the hand.” But he +adds—“She would not; and I did perceive that she had +pins in her pocket with which to prick me if I should touch her +again—and was glad that I spied her design.” +Afterwards, about the close of the same edifying discourse, Mr. +Pepys found himself near another pretty, fair young maid, who +would seem upon the whole to have had no pins, and to have been +more impressible.</p> +<p>Now, the moral of this story which I wish to suggest to you +is, that we have been this evening in St. James’s much more +timid than Mr. Pepys was in St. Dunstan’s, and that we have +conducted ourselves very much better. As a slight +recompense to us for our highly meritorious conduct, and as a +little relief to our over-charged hearts, I beg to propose that +we devote this bumper to invoking a blessing on the ladies. +It is the privilege of this society annually to hear a lady speak +for her own sex. Who so competent to do this as Mrs. +Stirling? Surely one who has so gracefully and +captivatingly, with such an exquisite mixture of art, and fancy, +and fidelity, represented her own sex in innumerable charities, +under an infinite variety of phases, cannot fail to represent +them well in her own character, especially when it is, amidst her +many triumphs, the most agreeable of all. I beg to propose +to you “The Ladies,” and I will couple with that +toast the name of Mrs. Stirling.</p> +<h2><a name="page205"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +205</span>XXXII.<br /> +LONDON, MARCH 28, 1866.</h2> +<p class="gutsumm">[The following speech was made by Mr. Dickens +at the Annual Festival of the Royal General Theatrical Fund, held +at the Freemasons’ Tavern, in proposing the health of the +Lord Mayor (Sir Benjamin Phillips), who occupied the chair.]</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Gentlemen</span>, in my childish days I +remember to have had a vague but profound admiration for a +certain legendary person called the Lord Mayor’s +fool. I had the highest opinion of the intellectual +capacity of that suppositious retainer of the Mansion House, and +I really regarded him with feelings approaching to absolute +veneration, because my nurse informed me on every gastronomic +occasion that the Lord Mayor’s fool liked everything that +was good. You will agree with me, I have no doubt, that if +this discriminating jester had existed at the present time he +could not fail to have liked his master very much, seeing that so +good a Lord Mayor is very rarely to be found, and that a better +Lord Mayor could not possibly be.</p> +<p>You have already divined, gentlemen, that I am about to +propose to you to drink the health of the right honourable +gentleman in the chair. As one of the Trustees of the +General Theatrical Fund, I beg officially to tender him my best +thanks for lending the very powerful aid of his presence, his +influence, and his personal character to this very deserving +Institution. As his private friends we ventured to urge +upon him to do us this gracious act, and I beg to assure you that +the perfect simplicity, modesty, cordiality, and frankness with +which he assented, enhanced the gift one thousand fold. I +think it must also be very agreeable to a company like this to +know that the President of the night is not ceremoniously +pretending, “positively for this night only,” to have +an interest in the drama, but that he has an unusual and thorough +acquaintance with it, and that he has a living and discerning +knowledge of the merits of the great old actors. It is very +pleasant to me to remember that the Lord Mayor and I once +beguiled the tedium of a journey by exchanging our experiences +upon this subject. I rather prided myself on being +something of an old stager, but I found the Lord Mayor so +thoroughly up in all the stock pieces, and so knowing and yet so +fresh about the merits of those who are most and best identified +with them, that I readily recognised in him what would be called +in fistic language, a very ugly customer—one, I assure you, +by no means to be settled by any novice not in thorough good +theatrical training.</p> +<p>Gentlemen, we have all known from our earliest infancy that +when the giants in Guildhall hear the clock strike one, they come +down to dinner. Similarly, when the City of London shall +hear but one single word in just disparagement of its present +Lord Mayor, whether as its enlightened chief magistrate, or as +one of its merchants, or as one of its true gentlemen, he will +then descend from the high personal place which he holds in the +general honour and esteem. Until then he will remain upon +his pedestal, and my private opinion, between ourselves, is that +the giants will come down long before him.</p> +<p>Gentlemen, in conclusion, I would remark that when the Lord +Mayor made his truly remarkable, and truly manly, and unaffected +speech, I could not but be struck by the odd reversal of the +usual circumstances at the Mansion House, which he presented to +our view, for whereas it is a very common thing for persons to be +brought tremblingly before the Lord Mayor, the Lord Mayor +presented himself as being brought tremblingly before us. I +hope that the result may hold still further, for whereas it is a +common thing for the Lord Mayor to say to a repentant criminal +who does not seem to have much harm in him, “let me never +see you here again,” so I would propose that we all with +one accord say to the Lord Mayor, “Let us by all means see +you here again on the first opportunity.” Gentlemen, +I beg to propose to you to drink, with all the honours, +“The health of the right hon. the Lord Mayor.”</p> +<h2><a name="page208"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +208</span>XXXIII.<br /> +LONDON, MAY 7, 1866.</h2> +<p class="gutsumm">[The Members of the Metropolitan Rowing Clubs +dining together at the London Tavern, on the above date, Mr. +Dickens, as President of the Nautilus Rowing Club, occupied the +chair. The Speech that follows was made in proposing +“Prosperity to the Rowing Clubs of London.” Mr. +Dickens said that:—]</p> +<p><span class="smcap">He</span> could not avoid the remembrance +of what very poor things the amateur rowing clubs on the Thames +were in the early days of his noviciate; not to mention the +difference in the build of the boats. He could not get on +in the beginning without being a pupil under an anomalous +creature called a “fireman waterman,” who wore an +eminently tall hat, and a perfectly unaccountable uniform, of +which it might be said that if it was less adapted for one thing +than another, that thing was fire. He recollected that this +gentleman had on some former day won a King’s prize wherry, +and they used to go about in this accursed wherry, he and a +partner, doing all the hard work, while the fireman drank all the +beer. The river was very much clearer, freër, and +cleaner in those days than these; but he was persuaded that this +philosophical old boatman could no more have dreamt of seeing the +spectacle which had taken place on Saturday (the procession of +the boats of the Metropolitan Amateur Rowing Clubs), or of seeing +these clubs matched for skill and speed, than he (the Chairman) +should dare to announce through the usual authentic channels that +he was to be heard of at the bar below, and that he was perfectly +prepared to accommodate Mr. James Mace if he meant +business. Nevertheless, he could recollect that he had +turned out for a spurt a few years ago on the River Thames with +an occasional Secretary, who should be nameless, and some other +Eton boys, and that he could hold his own against them. +More recently still, the last time that he rowed down from Oxford +he was supposed to cover himself with honour, though he must +admit that he found the “locks” so picturesque as to +require much examination for the discovery of their beauty. +But what he wanted to say was this, that though his +“fireman waterman” was one of the greatest humbugs +that ever existed, he yet taught him what an honest, healthy, +manly sport this was. Their waterman would bid them pull +away, and assure them that they were certain of winning in some +race. And here he would remark that aquatic sports never +entailed a moment’s cruelty, or a moment’s pain, upon +any living creature. Rowing men pursued recreation under +circumstances which braced their muscles, and cleared the cobwebs +from their minds. He assured them that he regarded such +clubs as these as a “national blessing.” They +owed, it was true, a vast deal to steam power—as was +sometimes proved at matches on the Thames—but, at the same +time, they were greatly indebted to all that tended to keep up a +healthy, manly tone. He understood that there had been a +committee selected for the purpose of arranging a great amateur +regatta, which was to take place off Putney in the course of the +season that was just begun. He could not abstain from +availing himself of this occasion to express a hope that the +committee would successfully carry on its labours to a triumphant +result, and that they should see upon the Thames, in the course +of this summer, such a brilliant sight as had never been seen +there before. To secure this there must be some hard work, +skilful combinations, and rather large subscriptions. But +although the aggregate result must be great, it by no means +followed that it need be at all large in its individual +details.</p> +<p>[In conclusion, Mr. Dickens made a laughable comparison +between the paying off or purification of the national debt and +the purification of the River Thames.]</p> +<h2><a name="page211"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +211</span>XXXIV.<br /> +LONDON, JUNE 5, 1867.</h2> +<p class="gutsumm">[On the above date Mr. Dickens presided at the +Ninth Anniversary Festival of the Railway Benevolent Society, at +Willis’s Rooms, and in proposing the toast of the evening, +made the following speech.]</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Although</span> we have not yet left +behind us by the distance of nearly fifty years the time when one +of the first literary authorities of this country insisted upon +the speed of the fastest railway train that the Legisture might +disastrously sanction being limited by Act of Parliament to ten +miles an hour, yet it does somehow happen that this evening, and +every evening, there are railway trains running pretty smoothly +to Ireland and to Scotland at the rate of fifty miles an hour; +much as it was objected in its time to vaccination, that it must +have a tendency to impart to human children something of the +nature of the cow, whereas I believe to this very time vaccinated +children are found to be as easily defined from calves as they +ever were, and certainly they have no cheapening influence on the +price of veal; much as it was objected that chloroform was a +contravention of the will of Providence, because it lessened +providentially-inflicted pain, which would be a reason for your +not rubbing your face if you had the tooth-ache, or not rubbing +your nose if it itched; so it was evidently predicted that the +railway system, even if anything so absurd could be productive of +any result, would infallibly throw half the nation out of +employment; whereas, you observe that the very cause and occasion +of our coming here together to-night is, apart from the various +tributary channels of occupation which it has opened out, that it +has called into existence a specially and directly employed +population of upwards of 200,000 persons.</p> +<p>Now, gentlemen, it is pretty clear and obvious that upwards of +200,000 persons engaged upon the various railways of the United +Kingdom cannot be rich; and although their duties require great +care and great exactness, and although our lives are every day, +humanly speaking, in the hands of many of them, still, for the +most of these places there will be always great competition, +because they are not posts which require skilled workmen to +hold. Wages, as you know very well, cannot be high where +competition is great, and you also know very well that railway +directors, in the bargains they make, and the salaries which they +pay, have to deal with the money of the shareholders, to whom +they are accountable. Thus it necessarily happens that +railway officers and servants are not remunerated on the whole by +any means splendidly, and that they cannot hope in the ordinary +course of things to do more than meet the ordinary wants and +hazards of life. But it is to be observed that the general +hazards are in their case, by reason of the dangerous nature of +their avocations, exceptionally great, so very great, I find, as +to be stateable, on the authority of a parliamentary paper, by +the very startling round of figures, that whereas one railway +traveller in 8,000,000 of passengers is killed, one railway +servant in every 2,000 is killed.</p> +<p>Hence, from general, special, as well, no doubt, for the usual +prudential and benevolent considerations, there came to be +established among railway officers and servants, nine years ago, +the Railway Benevolent Association. I may suppose, +therefore, as it was established nine years ago, that this is the +ninth occasion of publishing from this chair the banns between +this institution and the public. Nevertheless, I feel bound +individually to do my duty the same as if it had never been done +before, and to ask whether there is any just cause or impediment +why these two parties—the institution and the +public—should not be joined together in holy charity. +As I understand the society, its objects are +five-fold—first, to guarantee annuities which, it is always +to be observed, is paid out of the interest of invested capital, +so that those annuities may be secure and safe—annual +pensions, varying from £10 to £25, to distressed +railway officers and servants incapacitated by age, sickness, or +accident; secondly, to guarantee small pensions to distressed +widows; thirdly, to educate and maintain orphan children; +fourthly, to provide temporary relief for all those classes till +lasting relief can be guaranteed out of funds sufficiently large +for the purpose; lastly, to induce railway officers and servants +to assure their lives in some well-established office by +sub-dividing the payment of the premiums into small periodical +sums, and also by granting a reversionary bonus of £10 per +cent. on the amount assured from the funds of the +institution.</p> +<p>This is the society we are met to assist—simple, +sympathetic, practical, easy, sensible, unpretending. The +number of its members is large, and rapidly on the increase: they +number 12,000; the amount of invested capital is very nearly +£15,000; it has done a world of good and a world of work in +these first nine years of its life; and yet I am proud to say +that the annual cost of the maintenance of the institution is no +more than £250. And now if you do not know all about +it in a small compass, either I do not know all about it myself, +or the fault must be in my “packing.”</p> +<p>One naturally passes from what the institution is and has +done, to what it wants. Well, it wants to do more good, and +it cannot possibly do more good until it has more money. It +cannot safely, and therefore it cannot honourably, grant more +pensions to deserving applicants until it grows richer, and it +cannot grow rich enough for its laudable purpose by its own +unaided self. The thing is absolutely impossible. The +means of these railway officers and servants are far too +limited. Even if they were helped to the utmost by the +great railway companies, their means would still be too limited; +even if they were helped—and I hope they shortly will +be—by some of the great corporations of this country, whom +railways have done so much to enrich. These railway +officers and servants, on their road to a very humble and modest +superannuation, can no more do without the help of the great +public, than the great public, on their road from Torquay to +Aberdeen, can do without them. Therefore, I desire to ask +the public whether the servants of the great railways—who, +in fact, are their servants, their ready, zealous, faithful, +hard-working servants—whether they have not established, +whether they do not every day establish, a reasonable claim to +liberal remembrance.</p> +<p>Now, gentlemen, on this point of the case there is a story +once told me by a friend of mine, which seems to my mind to have +a certain application. My friend was an American +sea-captain, and, therefore, it is quite unnecessary to say his +story was quite true. He was captain and part owner of a +large American merchant liner. On a certain voyage out, in +exquisite summer weather, he had for cabin passengers one +beautiful young lady, and ten more or less beautiful young +gentlemen. Light winds or dead calms prevailing, the voyage +was slow. They had made half their distance when the ten +young gentlemen were all madly in love with the beautiful young +lady. They had all proposed to her, and bloodshed among the +rivals seemed imminent pending the young lady’s +decision. On this extremity the beautiful young lady +confided in my friend the captain, who gave her discreet +advice. He said: “If your affections are disengaged, +take that one of the young gentlemen whom you like the best and +settle the question.” To this the beautiful young +lady made reply, “I cannot do that because I like them all +equally well.” My friend, who was a man of resource, +hit upon this ingenious expedient, said he, “To-morrow +morning at mid-day, when lunch is announced, do you plunge bodily +overboard, head foremost. I will be alongside in a boat to +rescue you, and take the one of the ten who rushes to your +rescue, and then you can afterwards have him.” The +beautiful young lady highly approved, and did accordingly. +But after she plunged in, nine out of the ten more or less +beautiful young gentlemen plunged in after her; and the tenth +remained and shed tears, looking over the side of the +vessel. They were all picked up, and restored dripping to +the deck. The beautiful young lady upon seeing them said, +“What am I to do? See what a plight they are +in. How can I possibly choose, because every one of them is +equally wet?” Then said my friend the captain, acting +upon a sudden inspiration, “Take the dry one.” +I am sorry to say that she did so, and they lived happy ever +afterwards.</p> +<p>Now, gentleman, in my application of this story, I exactly +reverse my friend the captain’s anecdote, and I entreat the +public in looking about to consider who are fit subjects for +their bounty, to give each his hand with something in it, and not +award a dry hand to the industrious railway servant who is always +at his back. And I would ask any one with a doubt upon this +subject to consider what his experience of the railway servant is +from the time of his departure to his arrival at his +destination. I know what mine is. Here he is, in +velveteen or in a policeman’s dress, scaling cabs, storming +carriages, finding lost articles by a sort of instinct, binding +up lost umbrellas and walking sticks, wheeling trucks, +counselling old ladies, with a wonderful interest in their +affairs—mostly very complicated—and sticking labels +upon all sorts of articles. I look around—there he +is, in a station-master’s uniform, directing and +overseeing, with the head of a general, and with the courteous +manners of a gentleman; and then there is the handsome figure of +the guard, who inspires confidence in timid passengers. I +glide out of the station, and there he is again with his flags in +his hand at his post in the open country, at the level crossing, +at the cutting, at the tunnel mouth, and at every station on the +road until our destination is reached. In regard, +therefore, to the railway servants with whom we do come into +contact, we may surely have some natural sympathy, and it is on +their behalf that I this night appeal to you. I beg now to +propose “Success to the Railway Benevolent +Society.”</p> +<h2><a name="page217"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +217</span>XXXV.<br /> +LONDON, SEPTEMBER 17, 1867.</h2> +<p class="gutsumm">[On presiding at a public Meeting of the +Printers’ Readers, held at the Salisbury Hotel, on the +above date, Mr. Dickens said:—]</p> +<p><span class="smcap">That</span> as the meeting was convened, +not to hear him, but to hear a statement of facts and figures +very nearly affecting the personal interests of the great +majority of those present, his preface to the proceedings need be +very brief. Of the details of the question he knew, of his +own knowledge, absolutely nothing; but he had consented to occupy +the chair on that occasion at the request of the London +Association of Correctors of the Press for two +reasons—first, because he thought that openness and +publicity in such cases were a very wholesome example very much +needed at this time, and were highly becoming to a body of men +associated with that great public safeguard—the Press; +secondly, because he knew from some slight practical experience, +what the duties of correctors of the press were, and how their +duties were usually discharged; and he could testify, and did +testify, that they were not mechanical, that they were not mere +matters of manipulation and routine; but that they required from +those who performed them much natural intelligence, much +super-added cultivation, readiness of reference, quickness of +resource, an excellent memory, and a clear understanding. +He most gratefully acknowledged that he had never gone through +the sheets of any book that he had written, without having +presented to him by the correctors of the press something that he +had overlooked, some slight inconsistency into which he had +fallen, some little lapse he had made—in short, without +having set down in black and white some unquestionable indication +that he had been closely followed through the work by a patient +and trained mind, and not merely by a skilful eye. And in +this declaration he had not the slightest doubt that the great +body of his brother and sister writers would, as a plain act of +justice, readily concur. For these plain reasons he was +there; and being there he begged to assure them that every one +present—that every speaker—would have a patient +hearing, whatever his opinions might be.</p> + +<div class="gapshortline"> </div> +<p>[The proceedings concluded with a very cordial and hearty vote +of thanks to Mr. Dickens for taking the chair on the +occasion.]</p> +<p>Mr. Dickens briefly returned thanks, and expressed the belief +that their very calm and temperate proceedings would finally +result in the establishment of relations of perfect amity between +the employers and the employed, and consequently conduce to the +general welfare of both.</p> +<h2><a name="page219"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +219</span>XXXVI.<br /> +LONDON, NOVEMBER 2, 1867.</h2> +<p class="gutsumm">[On Saturday evening, November 2, 1867, a +grand complimentary farewell dinner was given to Mr. Dickens at +the Freemasons’ Tavern on the occasion of his revisiting +the United States of America. Lord Lytton officiated as +chairman, and proposed as a toast—“A Prosperous +Voyage, Health, and Long Life to our Illustrious Guest and +Countryman, Charles Dickens”. The toast was drunk +with all the honours, and one cheer more. Mr. Dickens then +rose, and spoke as follows:]</p> +<p><span class="smcap">No</span> thanks that I can offer you can +express my sense of my reception by this great assemblage, or can +in the least suggest to you how deep the glowing words of my +friend the chairman, and your acceptance of them, have sunk into +my heart. But both combined have so greatly shaken the +composure which I am used to command before an audience, that I +hope you may observe in me some traces of an eloquence more +expressive than the richest words. To say that I am +fervently grateful to you is to say nothing; to say that I can +never forget this beautiful sight, is to say nothing; to say that +it brings upon me a rush of emotion not only in the present, but +in the thought of its remembrance in the future by those who are +dearest to me, is to say nothing; but to feel all this for the +moment, even almost to pain, is very much indeed. Mercutio +says of the wound in his breast, dealt him by the hand of a foe, +that—“’Tis not so deep as a well, nor so wide +as a church door; but ’tis enough, ’twill +serve.” <a name="citation220"></a><a href="#footnote220" +class="citation">[220]</a> I may say of the wound in my +breast, newly dealt to me by the hands of my friends, that it is +deeper than the soundless sea, and wider than the whole Catholic +Church. I may safely add that it has for the moment almost +stricken me dumb. I should be more than human, and I assure +you I am very human indeed, if I could look around upon this +brilliant representative company and not feel greatly thrilled +and stirred by the presence of so many brother artists, not only +in literature, but also in the sister arts, especially painting, +among whose professors living and unhappily dead, are many of my +oldest and best friends. I hope that I may, without +presumption, regard this thronging of my brothers around me as a +testimony on their part that they believe that the cause of art +generally has been safe in my keeping, and that it has never been +falsely dealt with by me. Your resounding cheers just now +would have been but so many cruel reproaches to me if I could not +here declare that, from the earliest days of my career down to +this proud night, I have always tried to be true to my +calling. Never unduly to assert it, on the one hand, and +never, on any pretence or consideration, to permit it to be +patronized in my person, has been the steady endeavour of my +life; and I have occasionally been vain enough to hope that I may +leave its social position in England better than I found +it. Similarly, and equally I hope without presumption, I +trust that I may take this general representation of the public +here, through so many orders, pursuits, and degrees, as a token +that the public believe that, with a host of imperfections and +shortcomings on my head, I have as a writer, in my soul and +conscience, tried to be as true to them as they have ever been +true to me. And here, in reference to the inner circle of +the arts and the outer circle of the public, I feel it a duty +to-night to offer two remarks. I have in my duty at odd +times heard a great deal about literary sets and cliques, and +coteries and barriers; about keeping this man up, and keeping +that man down; about sworn disciples and sworn unbelievers, and +mutual admiration societies, and I know not what other dragons in +the upward path. I began to tread it when I was very young, +without influence, without money, without companion, introducer, +or adviser, and I am bound to put in evidence in this place that +I never lighted on these dragons yet. So have I heard in my +day, at divers other odd times, much generally to the effect that +the English people have little or no love of art for its own +sake, and that they do not greatly care to acknowledge or do +honour to the artist. My own experience has uniformly been +exactly the reverse. I can say that of my countrymen, +though I cannot say that of my country.</p> +<p>And now passing to the immediate occasion of your doing me +this great honour, the story of my going again to America is very +easily and briefly told. Since I was there before a vast +and entirely new generation has arisen in the United +States. Since I was there before most of the best known of +my books have been written and published; the new generation and +the books have come together and have kept together, until at +length numbers of those who have so widely and constantly read +me; naturally desiring a little variety in the relationship +between us, have expressed a strong wish that I should read +myself. This wish, at first conveyed to me through public +channels and business channels, has gradually become enforced by +an immense accumulation of letters from individuals and +associations of individuals, all expressing in the same hearty, +homely, cordial unaffected way, a kind of personal interest in +me—I had almost said a kind of personal affection for me, +which I am sure you would agree with me it would be dull +insensibility on my part not to prize. Little by little +this pressure has become so great that, although, as Charles Lamb +says, my household gods strike a terribly deep root, I have torn +them from their places, and this day week, at this hour, shall be +upon the sea. You will readily conceive that I am inspired +besides by a natural desire to see for myself the astonishing +change and progress of a quarter of a century over there, to +grasp the hands of many faithful friends whom I left there, to +see the faces of the multitude of new friends upon whom I have +never looked, and last, not least, to use my best endeavour to +lay down a third cable of intercommunication and alliance between +the old world and the new. Twelve years ago, when Heaven +knows I little thought I should ever be bound upon the voyage +which now lies before me, I wrote in that form of my writings +which obtains by far the most extensive circulation, these words +of the American nation:—“I know full well, whatever +little motes my beamy eyes may have descried in theirs, that they +are a kind, large-hearted, generous, and great +people.” In that faith I am going to see them again; +in that faith I shall, please God, return from them in the +spring; in that same faith to live and to die. I told you +in the beginning that I could not thank you enough, and Heaven +knows I have most thoroughly kept my word. If I may quote +one other short sentence from myself, let it imply all that I +have left unsaid, and yet most deeply feel. Let it, putting +a girdle round the earth, comprehend both sides of the Atlantic +at once in this moment, and say, as Tiny Tim observes, “God +bless us every one.”</p> +<h2><a name="page223"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +223</span>XXXVII.<br /> +BOSTON, APRIL 8, 1868.</h2> +<p class="gutsumm">[Mr. Dickens gave his last Reading at Boston, +on the above date. On his entrance a surprise awaited +him. His reading-stand had been decorated with flowers and +palm-leaves by some of the ladies of the city. He +acknowledged this graceful tribute in the following +words:—“Before allowing Dr. Marigold to tell his +story in his own peculiar way, I kiss the kind, fair hands +unknown, which have so beautifully decorated my table this +evening.” After the Reading, Mr. Dickens attempted in +vain to retire. Persistent hands demanded “one word +more.” Returning to his desk, pale, with a tear in +his eye, that found its way to his voice, he spoke as +follows:—]</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Ladies and gentlemen</span>,—My +gracious and generous welcome in America, which can never be +obliterated from my remembrance, began here. My departure +begins here, too; for I assure you that I have never until this +moment really felt that I am going away. In this brief life +of ours, it is sad to do almost anything for the last time, and I +cannot conceal from you, although my face will so soon be turned +towards my native land, and to all that makes it dear, that it is +a sad consideration with me that in a very few moments from this +time, this brilliant hall and all that it contains, will fade +from my view—for ever more. But it is my consolation +that the spirit of the bright faces, the quick perception, the +ready response, the generous and the cheering sounds that have +made this place delightful to me, will remain; and you may rely +upon it that that spirit will abide with me as long as I have +sense and sentiment left.</p> +<p>I do not say this with any limited reference to private +friendships that have for years upon years made Boston a +memorable and beloved spot to me, for such private references +have no business in this public place. I say it purely in +remembrance of, and in homage to, the great public heart before +me.</p> +<p>Ladies and gentlemen, I beg most earnestly, most gratefully, +and most affectionately, to bid you, each and all, farewell.</p> +<h2><a name="page225"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +225</span>XXXVIII.<br /> +NEW YORK, APRIL 18, 1863.</h2> +<p class="gutsumm">[On the above date Mr. Dickens was entertained +at a farewell dinner at Delmonico’s Hotel, previous to his +return to England. Two hundred gentlemen sat down to it; +Mr. Horace Greeley presiding. In acknowledgment of the +toast of his health, proposed by the chairman, Mr. Dickens rose +and said:—]</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Gentlemen</span>,—I cannot do better +than take my cue to from your distinguished president, and refer +in my first remarks to his remarks in connexion with the old, +natural, association between you and me. When I received an +invitation from a private association of working members of the +press of New York to dine with them to-day, I accepted that +compliment in grateful remembrance of a calling that was once my +own, and in loyal sympathy towards a brotherhood which, in the +spirit, I have never quieted. To the wholesome training of +severe newspaper work, when I was a very young man, I constantly +refer my first successes; and my sons will hereafter testify of +their father that he was always steadily proud of that ladder by +which he rose. If it were otherwise, I should have but a +very poor opinion of their father, which, perhaps, upon the +whole, I have not. Hence, gentlemen, under any +circumstances, this company would have been exceptionally +interesting and gratifying to me. But whereas I supposed +that, like the fairies’ pavilion in the “Arabian +Nights,” it would be but a mere handful, and I find it turn +out, like the same elastic pavilion, capable of comprehending a +multitude, so much the more proud am I of the honour of being +your guest; for you will readily believe that the more widely +representative of the press in America my entertainers are, the +more I must feel the good-will and the kindly sentiments towards +me of that vast institution.</p> +<p>Gentlemen, so much of my voice has lately been heard in the +land, and I have for upwards of four hard winter months so +contended against what I have been sometimes quite admiringly +assured was “a true American catarrh ”—a +possession which I have throughout highly appreciated, though I +might have preferred to be naturalised by any other outward and +visible signs—I say, gentlemen, so much of my voice has +lately been heard, that I might have been contented with +troubling you no further from my present standing-point, were it +not a duty with which I henceforth charge myself, not only here +but on every suitable occasion whatsoever and wheresoever, to +express my high and grateful sense of my second reception in +America, and to bear my honest testimony to the national +generosity and magnanimity. Also, to declare how astounded +I have been by the amazing changes that I have seen around me on +every side—changes moral, changes physical, changes in the +amount of land subdued and peopled, changes in the rise of vast +new cities, changes in the growth of older cities almost out of +recognition, changes in the graces and amenities of life, changes +in the press, without whose advancement no advancement can be +made anywhere. Nor am I, believe me, so arrogant as to +suppose that in five-and-twenty years there have been no changes +in me, and that I had nothing to learn and no extreme impressions +to correct when I was here first.</p> +<p>And, gentlemen, this brings me to a point on which I have, +ever since I landed here last November, observed a strict +silence, though tempted sometimes to break it, but in reference +to which I will, with your good leave, take you into my +confidence now. Even the press, being human, may be +sometimes mistaken or misinformed, and I rather think that I have +in one or two rare instances known its information to be not +perfectly accurate with reference to myself. Indeed, I have +now and again been more surprised by printed news that I have +read of myself than by any printed news that I have ever read in +my present state of existence. Thus, the vigour and +perseverance with which I have for some months past been +collecting materials for and hammering away at a new book on +America have much astonished me, seeing that all that time it has +been perfectly well known to my publishers on both sides of the +Atlantic that I positively declared that no consideration on +earth should induce me to write one. But what I have +intended, what I have resolved upon (and this is the confidence I +seek to place in you) is, on my return to England, in my own +person, to bear, for the behoof of my countrymen, such testimony +to the gigantic changes in this country as I have hinted at +to-night. Also, to record that wherever I have been, in the +smallest places equally with the largest, I have been received +with unsurpassable politeness, delicacy, sweet temper, +hospitality, consideration, and with unsurpassable respect for +the privacy daily enforced upon me by the nature of my avocation +here, and the state of my health. This testimony, so long +as I live, and so long as my descendants have any legal right in +my books, I shall cause to be re-published, as an appendix to +every copy of those two books of mine in which I have referred to +America. And this I will do and cause to be done, not in +mere love and thankfulness, but because I regard it as an act of +plain justice and honour.</p> +<p>Gentlemen, the transition from my own feelings towards and +interest in America to those of the mass of my countrymen seems +to be a natural one; but, whether or no, I make it with an +express object. I was asked in this very city, about last +Christmas time, whether an American was not at some disadvantage +in England as a foreigner. The notion of an American being +regarded in England as a foreigner at all, of his ever being +thought of or spoken of in that character, was so uncommonly +incongruous and absurd to me, that my gravity was, for the +moment, quite overpowered. As soon as it was restored, I +said that for years and years past I hoped I had had as many +American friends and had received as many American visitors as +almost any Englishman living, and that my unvarying experience, +fortified by theirs, was that it was enough in England to be an +American to be received with the readiest respect and recognition +anywhere. Hereupon, out of half-a-dozen people, suddenly +spoke out two, one an American gentleman, with a cultivated taste +for art, who, finding himself on a certain Sunday outside the +walls of a certain historical English castle, famous for its +pictures, was refused admission there, according to the strict +rules of the establishment on that day, but who, on merely +representing that he was an American gentleman, on his travels, +had, not to say the picture gallery, but the whole castle, placed +at his immediate disposal. The other was a lady, who, being +in London, and having a great desire to see the famous +reading-room of the British Museum, was assured by the English +family with whom she stayed that it was unfortunately impossible, +because the place was closed for a week, and she had only three +days there. Upon that lady’s going to the Museum, as +she assured me, alone to the gate, self-introduced as an American +lady, the gate flew open, as it were magically. I am +unwillingly bound to add that she certainly was young and +exceedingly pretty. Still, the porter of that institution +is of an obese habit, and, according to the best of my +observation of him, not very impressible.</p> +<p>Now, gentlemen, I refer to these trifles as a collateral +assurance to you that the Englishman who shall humbly strive, as +I hope to do, to be in England as faithful to America as to +England herself, has no previous conceptions to contend +against. Points of difference there have been, points of +difference there are, points of difference there probably always +will be between the two great peoples. But broadcast in +England is sown the sentiment that those two peoples are +essentially one, and that it rests with them jointly to uphold +the great Anglo-Saxon race, to which our president has referred, +and all its great achievements before the world. And if I +know anything of my countrymen—and they give me credit for +knowing something—if I know anything of my countrymen, +gentlemen, the English heart is stirred by the fluttering of +those Stars and Stripes, as it is stirred by no other flag that +flies except its own. If I know my countrymen, in any and +every relation towards America, they begin, not as Sir Anthony +Absolute recommended that lovers should begin, with “a +little aversion,” but with a great liking and a profound +respect; and whatever the little sensitiveness of the moment, or +the little official passion, or the little official policy now, +or then, or here, or there, may be, take my word for it, that the +first enduring, great, popular consideration in England is a +generous construction of justice.</p> +<p>Finally, gentlemen, and I say this subject to your correction, +I do believe that from the great majority of honest minds on both +sides, there cannot be absent the conviction that it would be +better for this globe to be riven by an earthquake, fired by a +comet, overrun by an iceberg, and abandoned to the Arctic fox and +bear, than that it should present the spectacle of these two +great nations, each of which has, in its own way and hour, +striven so hard and so successfully for freedom, ever again being +arrayed the one against the other. Gentlemen, I cannot +thank your president enough or you enough for your kind reception +of my health, and of my poor remarks, but, believe me, I do thank +you with the utmost fervour of which my soul is capable.</p> +<h2><a name="page231"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +231</span>XXXIX.<br /> +NEW YORK, APRIL 20, 1868.</h2> +<p class="gutsumm">[Mr. Dickens’s last Reading in the +United States was given at the Steinway Hall on the above +date. The task finished he was about to retire, but a +tremendous burst of applause stopped him. He came forward +and spoke thus:—]</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Ladies and gentlemen</span>,—The +shadow of one word has impended over me this evening, and the +time has come at length when the shadow must fall. It is +but a very short one, but the weight of such things is not +measured by their length, and two much shorter words express the +round of our human existence. When I was reading +“David Copperfield” a few evenings since, I felt +there was more than usual significance in the words of Peggotty, +“My future life lies over the sea.” And when I +closed this book just now, I felt most keenly that I was shortly +to establish such an <i>alibi</i> as would have satisfied even +the elder Mr. Weller. The relations which have been set up +between us, while they have involved for me something more than +mere devotion to a task, have been by you sustained with the +readiest sympathy and the kindest acknowledgment.</p> +<p>Those relations must now be broken for ever. Be assured, +however, that you will not pass from my mind. I shall often +realise you as I see you now, equally by my winter fire and in +the green English summer weather. I shall never recall you +as a mere public audience, but rather as a host of personal +friends, and ever with the greatest gratitude, tenderness, and +consideration. Ladies and gentlemen, I beg to bid you +farewell. God bless you, and God bless the land in which I +leave you.</p> +<h2><a name="page233"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +233</span>XL.<br /> +LIVERPOOL, APRIL 10, 1869.</h2> +<p class="gutsumm">[The following speech was delivered by Mr. +Dickens at a Banquet held in his honour at St. George’s +Hall, Liverpool, after his health had been proposed by Lord +Dufferin.]</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Mr. Mayor, ladies and gentlemen</span>, +although I have been so well accustomed of late to the sound of +my own voice in this neighbourhood as to hear it with perfect +composure, the occasion is, believe me, very, very different in +respect of those overwhelming voices of yours. As Professor +Wilson once confided to me in Edinburgh that I had not the least +idea, from hearing him in public, what a magnificent speaker he +found himself to be when he was quite alone—so you can form +no conception, from the specimen before you, of the eloquence +with which I shall thank you again and again in some of the +innermost moments of my future life. Often and often, then, +God willing, my memory will recall this brilliant scene, and will +re-illuminate this banquet-hall. I, faithful to this place +in its present aspect, will observe it exactly as it +stands—not one man’s seat empty, not one +woman’s fair face absent, while life and memory abide by +me.</p> +<p>Mr. Mayor, Lord Dufferin in his speech so affecting to me, so +eloquently uttered, and so rapturously received, made a graceful +and gracious allusion to the immediate occasion of my present +visit to your noble city. It is no homage to Liverpool, +based upon a moment’s untrustworthy enthusiasm, but it is +the solid fact built upon the rock of experience that when I +first made up my mind, after considerable deliberation, +systematically to meet my readers in large numbers, face to face, +and to try to express myself to them through the breath of life, +Liverpool stood foremost among the great places out of London to +which I looked with eager confidence and pleasure. And why +was this? Not merely because of the reputation of its +citizens for generous estimation of the arts; not merely because +I had unworthily filled the chair of its great self-educational +institution long ago; not merely because the place had been a +home to me since the well-remembered day when its blessed roofs +and steeples dipped into the Mersey behind me on the occasion of +my first sailing away to see my generous friends across the +Atlantic twenty-seven years ago. Not for one of those +considerations, but because it had been my happiness to have a +public opportunity of testing the spirit of its people. I +had asked Liverpool for help towards the worthy preservation of +Shakespeare’s house. On another occasion I had +ventured to address Liverpool in the names of Leigh Hunt and +Sheridan Knowles. On still another occasion I had addressed +it in the cause of the brotherhood and sisterhood of letters and +the kindred arts, and on each and all the response had been +unsurpassably spontaneous, open-handed, and munificent.</p> +<p>Mr. Mayor, and ladies and gentlemen, if I may venture to take +a small illustration of my present position from my own peculiar +craft, I would say that there is this objection in writing +fiction to giving a story an autobiographical form, that through +whatever dangers the narrator may pass, it is clear unfortunately +to the reader beforehand that he must have come through them +somehow else he could not have lived to tell the tale. Now, +in speaking fact, when the fact is associated with such honours +as those with which you have enriched me, there is this singular +difficulty in the way of returning thanks, that the speaker must +infallibly come back to himself through whatever oratorical +disasters he may languish on the road. Let me, then, take +the plainer and simpler middle course of dividing my subject +equally between myself and you. Let me assure you that +whatever you have accepted with pleasure, either by word of pen +or by word of mouth, from me, you have greatly improved in the +acceptance. As the gold is said to be doubly and trebly +refined which has seven times passed the furnace, so a fancy may +be said to become more and more refined each time it passes +through the human heart. You have, and you know you have, +brought to the consideration of me that quality in yourselves +without which I should but have beaten the air. Your +earnestness has stimulated mine, your laughter has made me laugh, +and your tears have overflowed my eyes. All that I can +claim for myself in establishing the relations which exist +between us is constant fidelity to hard work. My literary +fellows about me, of whom I am so proud to see so many, know very +well how true it is in all art that what seems the easiest done +is oftentimes the most difficult to do, and that the smallest +truth may come of the greatest pains—much, as it occurred +to me at Manchester the other day, as the sensitive touch of Mr. +Whitworth’s measuring machine, comes at last, of Heaven and +Manchester and its mayor only know how much hammering—my +companions-in-arms know thoroughly well, and I think it only +right the public should know too, that in our careful toil and +trouble, and in our steady striving for excellence—not in +any little gifts, misused by fits and starts—lies our +highest duty at once to our calling, to one another, to +ourselves, and to you.</p> +<p>Ladies and gentlemen, before sitting down I find that I have +to clear myself of two very unexpected accusations. The +first is a most singular charge preferred against me by my old +friend Lord Houghton, that I have been somewhat unconscious of +the merits of the House of Lords. Now, ladies and +gentlemen, seeing that I have had some few not altogether obscure +or unknown personal friends in that assembly, seeing that I had +some little association with, and knowledge of, a certain obscure +peer lately known in England by the name of Lord Brougham; seeing +that I regard with some admiration and affection another obscure +peer wholly unknown in literary circles, called Lord Lytton; +seeing also that I have had for some years some slight admiration +of the extraordinary judicial properties and amazingly acute mind +of a certain Lord Chief Justice popularly known by the name of +Cockburn; and also seeing that there is no man in England whom I +respect more in his public capacity, whom I love more in his +private capacity, or from whom I have received more remarkable +proofs of his honour and love of literature than another obscure +nobleman called Lord Russell; taking these circumstances into +consideration, I was rather amazed by my noble friend’s +accusation. When I asked him, on his sitting down, what +amazing devil possessed him to make this charge, he replied that +he had never forgotten the days of Lord Verisopht. Then, +ladies and gentlemen, I understood it all. Because it is a +remarkable fact that in the days when that depreciative and +profoundly unnatural character was invented there was no Lord +Houghton in the House of Lords. And there was in the House +of Commons a rather indifferent member called Richard Monckton +Milnes.</p> +<p>Ladies and gentlemen, to conclude, for the present, I close +with the other charge of my noble friend, and here I am more +serious, and I may be allowed perhaps to express my seriousness +in half a dozen plain words. When I first took literature +as my profession in England, I calmly resolved within myself +that, whether I succeeded or whether I failed, literature should +be my sole profession. It appeared to me at that time that +it was not so well understood in England as it was in other +countries that literature was a dignified profession, by which +any man might stand or fall. I made a compact with myself +that in my person literature should stand, and by itself, of +itself, and for itself; and there is no consideration on earth +which would induce me to break that bargain.</p> +<p>Ladies and gentlemen, finally allow me to thank you for your +great kindness, and for the touching earnestness with which you +have drunk my health. I should have thanked you with all my +heart if it had not so unfortunately happened that, for many +sufficient reasons, I lost my heart at between half-past six and +half-past seven to-night.</p> +<h2><a name="page238"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 238</span>THE +OXFORD AND HARVARD BOAT RACE.<br /> +SYDENHAM, AUGUST 30, 1869.</h2> +<p class="gutsumm">[The International University Boat Race having +taken place on August 27, the London Rowing Club invited the +Crews to a Dinner at the Crystal Palace on the following +Monday. The dinner was followed by a grand display of +pyrotechnics. Mr. Dickens, in proposing the health of the +Crews, made the following speech:]</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Gentlemen</span>, flushed with fireworks, +I can warrant myself to you as about to imitate those gorgeous +illusions by making a brief spirt and then dying out. And, +first of all, as an invited visitor of the London Rowing Club on +this most interesting occasion, I will beg, in the name of the +other invited visitors present—always excepting the +distinguished guests who are the cause of our meeting—to +thank the president for the modesty and the courtesy with which +he has deputed to one of us the most agreeable part of his +evening’s duty. It is the more graceful in him to do +this because he can hardly fail to see that he might very easily +do it himself, as this is a case of all others in which it is +according to good taste and the very principles of things that +the great social vice, speech-making, should hide it diminished +head before the great social virtue action. However, there +is an ancient story of a lady who threw her glove into an arena +full of wild beasts to tempt her attendant lover to climb down +and reclaim it. The lover, rightly inferring from the +action the worth of the lady, risked his life for the glove, and +then threw it rightly in her face as a token of his eternal +adieu. <a name="citation239"></a><a href="#footnote239" +class="citation">[239]</a> I take up the President’s +glove, on the contrary, as a proof of his much higher worth, and +of my real interest in the cause in which it was thrown down, and +I now profess my readiness to do even injustice to the duty which +he has assigned me.</p> +<p>Gentlemen, a very remarkable and affecting volume was +published in the United States within a short time before my last +visit to that hospitable land, containing ninety-five biographies +of young men, for the most part well-born and well nurtured, and +trained in various peaceful pursuits of life, who, when the flag +of their country waved them from those quiet paths in which they +were seeking distinction of various kinds, took arms in the dread +civil war which elicited so much bravery on both sides, and died +in the defence of their country. These great spirits +displayed extraordinary aptitude in the acquisition, even in the +invention, of military tactics, in the combining and commanding +of great masses of men, in surprising readiness of self-resource +for the general good, in humanely treating the sick and the +wounded, and in winning to themselves a very rare amount of +personal confidence and trust. They had all risen to be +distinguished soldiers; they had all done deeds of great heroism; +they had all combined with their valour and self-devotion a +serene cheerfulness, a quiet modesty, and a truly Christian +spirit; and they had all been educated in one +school—Harvard University.</p> +<p>Gentlemen, nothing was more remarkable in these fine +descendants of our forefathers than the invincible determination +with which they fought against odds, and the undauntable spirit +with which they resisted defeat. I ask you, who will say +after last Friday that Harvard University is less true to herself +in peace than she was in war? I ask you, who will not +recognise in her boat’s crew the leaven of her soldiers, +and who does not feel that she has now a greater right than ever +to be proud of her sons, and take these sons to her breast when +they return with resounding acclamations? It is related of +the Duke of Wellington that he once told a lady who foolishly +protested that she would like to see a great victory that there +was only one thing worse than a great victory, and that was a +great defeat.</p> +<p>But, gentlemen, there is another sense in which to use the +term a great defeat. Such is the defeat of a handful of +daring fellows who make a preliminary dash of three or four +thousand stormy miles to meet great conquerors on their own +domain—who do not want the stimulus of friends and home, +but who sufficiently hear and feel their own dear land in the +shouts and cheers of another—and who strive to the last +with a desperate tenacity that makes the beating of them a new +feather in the proudest cap. Gentlemen, you agree with me +that such a defeat is a great, noble part of a manly, wholesome +action; and I say that it is in the essence and life-blood of +such a defeat to become at last sure victory.</p> +<p>Now, gentlemen, you know perfectly well the toast I am going +to propose, and you know equally well that in thus glancing first +towards our friends of the white stripes, I merely anticipate and +respond to the instinctive courtesy of Oxford towards our +brothers from a distance—a courtesy extending, I hope, and +I do not doubt, to any imaginable limits except allowing them to +take the first place in last Friday’s match, if they could +by any human and honourable means be kept in the second. I +will not avail myself of the opportunity provided for me by the +absence of the greater part of the Oxford crew—indeed, of +all but one, and that, its most modest and devoted member—I +will not avail myself of the golden opportunity considerately +provided for me to say a great deal in honour of the Oxford +crew. I know that the gentleman who attends here attends +under unusual anxieties and difficulties, and that if he were +less in earnest his filial affection could not possibly allow him +to be here.</p> +<p>It is therefore enough for me, gentlemen, and enough for you, +that I should say here, and now, that we all unite with one +accord in regarding the Oxford crew as the pride and flower of +England—and that we should consider it very weak indeed to +set anything short of England’s very best in opposition to +or competition with America; though it certainly must be +confessed—I am bound in common justice and honour to admit +it—it must be confessed in disparagement of the Oxford men, +as I heard a discontented gentleman remark—last Friday +night, about ten o’clock, when he was baiting a very small +horse in the Strand—he was one of eleven with pipes in a +chaise cart—I say it must be admitted in disparagement of +the Oxford men on the authority of this gentleman, that they have +won so often that they could afford to lose a little now, and +that “they ought to do it, but they won’t.”</p> +<p>Gentlemen, in drinking to both crews, and in offering the poor +testimony of our thanks in acknowledgment of the gallant +spectacle which they presented to countless thousands last +Friday, I am sure I express not only your feeling, and my +feeling, and the feeling of the Blue, but also the feeling of the +whole people of England, when I cordially give them welcome to +our English waters and English ground, and also bid them +“God speed” in their voyage home. As the +greater includes the less, and the sea holds the river, so I +think it is no very bold augury to predict that in the friendly +contests yet to come and to take place, I hope, on both sides of +the Atlantic—there are great river triumphs for Harvard +University yet in store. Gentlemen, I warn the English +portion of this audience that these are very dangerous men. +Remember that it was an undergraduate of Harvard University who +served as a common seaman two years before the mast, <a +name="citation242"></a><a href="#footnote242" +class="citation">[242]</a> and who wrote about the best sea book +in the English tongue. Remember that it was one of those +young American gentlemen who sailed his mite of a yacht across +the Atlantic in mid-winter, and who sailed in her to sink or swim +with the men who believed in him.</p> +<p>And now, gentlemen, in conclusion, animated by your cordial +acquiescence, I will take upon myself to assure our brothers from +a distance that the utmost enthusiasm with which they can be +received on their return home will find a ready echo in every +corner of England—and further, that none of their immediate +countrymen—I use the qualifying term immediate, for we are, +as our president said, fellow countrymen, thank God—that +none of their compatriots who saw, or who will read of, what they +did in this great race, can be more thoroughly imbued with a +sense of their indomitable courage and their high deserts than +are their rivals and their hosts to-night. Gentlemen, I beg +to propose to you to drink the crews of Harvard and Oxford +University, and I beg to couple with that toast the names of Mr. +Simmons and Mr. Willan.</p> +<h2><a name="page243"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +243</span>XLII.<br /> +BIRMINGHAM, SEPTEMBER 27, 1869.</h2> +<p class="gutsumm">[Inaugural Address on the opening of the +Winter Session of the Birmingham and Midland Institute.</p> +<p class="gutsumm">One who was present during the delivery of the +following speech, informs the editor that “no note of any +kind was referred to by Mr. Dickens—except the Quotation +from Sydney Smith. The address, evidently carefully +prepared, was delivered without a single pause, in Mr. +Dickens’s best manner, and was a very great +success.”]</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Ladies and gentlemen</span>,—We +often hear of our common country that it is an over-populated +one, that it is an over-pauperized one, that it is an +over-colonizing one, and that it is an over-taxed one. Now, +I entertain, especially of late times, the heretical belief that +it is an over-talked one, and that there is a deal of public +speech-making going about in various directions which might be +advantageously dispensed with. If I were free to act upon +this conviction, as president for the time being of the great +institution so numerously represented here, I should immediately +and at once subside into a golden silence, which would be of a +highly edifying, because of a very exemplary character. But +I happen to be the institution’s willing servant, not its +imperious master, and it exacts tribute of mere silver or copper +speech—not to say brazen—from whomsoever it exalts to +my high office. Some African tribes—not to draw the +comparison disrespectfully—some savage African tribes, when +they make a king require him perhaps to achieve an exhausting +foot-race under the stimulus of considerable popular prodding and +goading, or perhaps to be severely and experimentally knocked +about the head by his Privy Council, or perhaps to be dipped in a +river full of crocodiles, or perhaps to drink immense quantities +of something nasty out of a calabash—at all events, to +undergo some purifying ordeal in presence of his admiring +subjects.</p> +<p>I must confess that I became rather alarmed when I was duly +warned by your constituted authorities that whatever I might +happen to say here to-night would be termed an inaugural address +on the entrance upon a new term of study by the members of your +various classes; for, besides that, the phrase is something +high-sounding for my taste, I avow that I do look forward to that +blessed time when every man shall inaugurate his own work for +himself, and do it. I believe that we shall then have +inaugurated a new era indeed, and one in which the Lord’s +Prayer will become a fulfilled prophecy upon this earth. +Remembering, however, that you may call anything by any name +without in the least changing its nature—bethinking myself +that you may, if you be so minded, call a butterfly a buffalo, +without advancing a hair’s breadth towards making it +one—I became composed in my mind, and resolved to stick to +the very homely intention I had previously formed. This was +merely to tell you, the members, students, and friends of the +Birmingham and Midland Institute—firstly, what you cannot +possibly want to know, (this is a very popular oratorical theme); +secondly, what your institution has done; and, thirdly, what, in +the poor opinion of its President for the time being, remains for +it to do and not to do.</p> +<p>Now, first, as to what you cannot possibly want to know. +You cannot need from me any oratorical declamation concerning the +abstract advantages of knowledge or the beauties of +self-improvement. If you had any such requirement you would +not be here. I conceive that you are here because you have +become thoroughly penetrated with such principles, either in your +own persons or in the persons of some striving fellow-creatures, +on whom you have looked with interest and sympathy. I +conceive that you are here because you feel the welfare of the +great chiefly adult educational establishment, whose doors stand +really open to all sorts and conditions of people, to be +inseparable from the best welfare of your great town and its +neighbourhood. Nay, if I take a much wider range than that, +and say that we all—every one of us here—perfectly +well know that the benefits of such an establishment must extend +far beyond the limits of this midland county—its fires and +smoke,—and must comprehend, in some sort, the whole +community, I do not strain the truth. It was suggested by +Mr. Babbage, in his ninth “Bridgewater Treatise,” +that a mere spoken word—a single articulated syllable +thrown into the air—may go on reverberating through +illimitable space for ever and for ever, seeing that there is no +rim against which it can strike—no boundary at which it can +possibly arrive. Similarly it may be said—not as an +ingenious speculation, but as a stedfast and absolute +fact—that human calculation cannot limit the influence of +one atom of wholesome knowledge patiently acquired, modestly +possessed, and faithfully used.</p> +<p>As the astronomers tell us that it is probable that there are +in the universe innumerable solar systems besides ours, to each +of which myriads of utterly unknown and unseen stars belong, so +it is certain that every man, however obscure, however far +removed from the general recognition, is one of a group of men +impressible for good, and impressible for evil, and that it is in +the eternal nature of things that he cannot really improve +himself without in some degree improving other men. And +observe, this is especially the case when he has improved himself +in the teeth of adverse circumstances, as in a maturity +succeeding to a neglected or an ill-taught youth, in the few +daily hours remaining to him after ten or twelve hours’ +labour, in the few pauses and intervals of a life of toil; for +then his fellows and companions have assurance that he can have +known no favouring conditions, and that they can do what he has +done, in wresting some enlightenment and self-respect from what +Lord Lytton finely calls—</p> +<blockquote><p>“Those twin gaolers of the daring heart,<br +/> +Low birth and iron fortune.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>As you have proved these truths in your own experience or in +your own observation, and as it may be safely assumed that there +can be very few persons in Birmingham, of all places under +heaven, who would contest the position that the more cultivated +the employed the better for the employer, and the more cultivated +the employer the better for the employed; therefore, my +references to what you do not want to know shall here cease and +determine.</p> +<p>Next, with reference to what your institution has done on my +summary, which shall be as concise and as correct as my +information and my remembrance of it may render possible, I +desire to lay emphatic stress. Your institution, sixteen +years old, and in which masters and workmen study together, has +outgrown the ample edifice in which it receives its 2,500 or +2,600 members and students. It is a most cheering sign of +its vigorous vitality that of its industrial-students almost half +are artisans in the receipt of weekly wages. I think I am +correct in saying that 400 others are clerks, apprentices, +tradesmen, or tradesmen’s sons. I note with +particular pleasure the adherence of a goodly number of the +gentler sex, without whom no institution whatever can truly claim +to be either a civilising or a civilised one. The increased +attendance at your educational classes is always greatest on the +part of the artisans—the class within my experience the +least reached in any similar institutions elsewhere, and whose +name is the oftenest and the most constantly taken in vain. +But it is specially reached here, not improbably because it is, +as it should be, specially addressed in the foundation of the +industrial department, in the allotment of the direction of the +society’s affairs, and in the establishment of what are +called its penny classes—a bold, and, I am happy to say, a +triumphantly successful experiment, which enables the artisan to +obtain sound evening instruction in subjects directly bearing +upon his daily usefulness or on his daily happiness, as +arithmetic (elementary and advanced), chemistry, physical +geography, and singing, on payment of the astoundingly low fee of +a single penny every time he attends the class. I beg +emphatically to say that I look upon this as one of the most +remarkable schemes ever devised for the educational behoof of the +artisan, and if your institution had done nothing else in all its +life, I would take my stand by it on its having done this.</p> +<p>Apart, however, from its industrial department, it has its +general department, offering all the advantages of a first-class +literary institution. It has its reading-rooms, its +library, its chemical laboratory, its museum, its art department, +its lecture hall, and its long list of lectures on subjects of +various and comprehensive interest, delivered by lecturers of the +highest qualifications. Very well. But it may be +asked, what are the practical results of all these +appliances? Now, let us suppose a few. Suppose that +your institution should have educated those who are now its +teachers. That would be a very remarkable fact. +Supposing, besides, it should, so to speak, have educated +education all around it, by sending forth numerous and efficient +teachers into many and divers schools. Suppose the young +student, reared exclusively in its laboratory, should be +presently snapped up for the laboratory of the great and famous +hospitals. Suppose that in nine years its industrial +students should have carried off a round dozen of the much +competed for prizes awarded by the Society of Arts and the +Government department, besides two local prizes originating in +the generosity of a Birmingham man. Suppose that the Town +Council, having it in trust to find an artisan well fit to +receive the Whitworth prizes, should find him here. Suppose +that one of the industrial students should turn his chemical +studies to the practical account of extracting gold from waste +colour water, and of taking it into custody, in the very act of +running away with hundreds of pounds down the town drains. +Suppose another should perceive in his books, in his studious +evenings, what was amiss with his master’s until then +inscrutably defective furnace, and should go straight—to +the great annual saving of that master—and put it +right. Supposing another should puzzle out the means, until +then quite unknown in England, of making a certain description of +coloured glass. Supposing another should qualify himself to +vanquish one by one, as they daily arise, all the little +difficulties incidental to his calling as an electro-plater, and +should be applied to by his companions in the shop in all +emergencies under the name of the +“Encyclopædia.” Suppose a long procession +of such cases, and then consider that these are not suppositions +at all, but are plain, unvarnished facts, culminating in the one +special and significant fact that, with a single solitary +exception, every one of the institution’s industrial +students who have taken its prizes within ten years, have since +climbed to higher situations in their way of life.</p> +<p>As to the extent to which the institution encourages the +artisan to think, and so, for instance, to rise superior to the +little shackling prejudices and observances perchance existing in +his trade when they will not bear the test of inquiry, that is +only to be equalled by the extent to which it encourages him to +feel. There is a certain tone of modest manliness pervading +all the little facts which I have looked through which I found +remarkably impressive. The decided objection on the part of +industrial students to attend classes in their working clothes, +breathes this tone, as being a graceful and at the same time +perfectly independent recognition of the place and of one +another. And this tone is admirably illustrated in a +different way, in the case of a poor bricklayer, who, being in +temporary reverses through the illness of his family, and having +consequently been obliged to part with his best clothes, and +being therefore missed from his classes, in which he had been +noticed as a very hard worker, was persuaded to attend them in +his working clothes. He replied, “No, it was not +possible. It must not be thought of. It must not come +into question for a moment. It would be supposed, or it +might be thought, that he did it to attract attention.” And +the same man being offered by one of the officers a loan of money +to enable him to rehabilitate his appearance, positively declined +it, on the ground that he came to the institution to learn and to +know better how to help himself, not otherwise to ask help, or to +receive help from any man. Now, I am justified in calling +this the tone of the institution, because it is no isolated +instance, but is a fair and honourable sample of the spirit of +the place, and as such I put it at the conclusion—though +last certainly not least—of my references to what your +institution has indubitably done.</p> +<p>Well, ladies and gentlemen, I come at length to what, in the +humble opinion of the evanescent officer before you, remains for +the institution to do, and not to do. As Mr. Carlyle has it +towards the closing pages of his grand history of the French +Revolution, “This we are now with due brevity to glance at; +and then courage, oh listener, I see land!” <a +name="citation250"></a><a href="#footnote250" +class="citation">[250]</a> I earnestly hope—and I +firmly believe—that your institution will do henceforth as +it has done hitherto; it can hardly do better. I hope and +believe that it will know among its members no distinction of +persons, creed, or party, but that it will conserve its place of +assemblage as a high, pure ground, on which all such +considerations shall merge into the one universal, heaven-sent +aspiration of the human soul to be wiser and better. I hope +and believe that it will always be expansive and elastic; for +ever seeking to devise new means of enlarging the circle of its +members, of attracting to itself the confidence of still greater +and greater numbers, and never evincing any more disposition to +stand still than time does, or life does, or the seasons +do. And above all things, I hope, and I feel confident from +its antecedents, that it will never allow any consideration on +the face of the earth to induce it to patronise or to be +patronised, for I verily believe that the bestowal and receipt of +patronage in such wise has been a curse in England, and that it +has done more to prevent really good objects, and to lower really +high character, than the utmost efforts of the narrowest +antagonism could have effected in twice the time.</p> +<p>I have no fear that the walls of the Birmingham and Midland +Institute will ever tremble responsive to the croakings of the +timid opponents of intellectual progress; but in this connexion +generally I cannot forbear from offering a remark which is much +upon my mind. It is commonly assumed—much too +commonly—that this age is a material age, and that a +material age is an irreligious age. I have been pained +lately to see this assumption repeated in certain influential +quarters for which I have a high respect, and desire to have a +higher. I am afraid that by dint of constantly being +reiterated, and reiterated without protest, this +assumption—which I take leave altogether to deny—may +be accepted by the more unthinking part of the public as +unquestionably true; just as caricaturists and painters, +professedly making a portrait of some public man, which was not +in the least like him to begin with, have gone on repeating and +repeating it until the public came to believe that it must be +exactly like him, simply because it was like itself, and really +have at last, in the fulness of time, grown almost disposed to +resent upon him their tardy discovery—really to resent upon +him their late discovery—that he was not like it. I +confess, standing here in this responsible situation, that I do +not understand this much-used and much-abused phrase—the +“material age.” I cannot comprehend—if +anybody can I very much doubt—its logical +signification. For instance, has electricity become more +material in the mind of any sane or moderately insane man, woman, +or child, because of the discovery that in the good providence of +God it could be made available for the service and use of man to +an immeasurably greater extent than for his destruction? Do +I make a more material journey to the bed-side of my dying parent +or my dying child when I travel there at the rate of sixty miles +an hour, than when I travel thither at the rate of six? +Rather, in the swiftest case, does not my agonised heart become +over-fraught with gratitude to that Supreme Beneficence from whom +alone could have proceeded the wonderful means of shortening my +suspense? What is the materiality of the cable or the wire +compared with the materiality of the spark? What is the +materiality of certain chemical substances that we can weigh or +measure, imprison or release, compared with the materiality of +their appointed affinities and repulsions presented to them from +the instant of their creation to the day of judgment? When +did this so-called material age begin? With the use of +clothing; with the discovery of the compass; with the invention +of the art of printing? Surely, it has been a long time +about; and which is the more material object, the farthing tallow +candle that will not give me light, or that flame of gas which +will?</p> +<p>No, ladies and gentlemen, do not let us be discouraged or +deceived by any fine, vapid, empty words. The true material +age is the stupid Chinese age, in which no new or grand +revelations of nature are granted, because they are ignorantly +and insolently repelled, instead of being diligently and humbly +sought. The difference between the ancient fiction of the +mad braggart defying the lightning and the modern historical +picture of Franklin drawing it towards his kite, in order that he +might the more profoundly study that which was set before him to +be studied (or it would not have been there), happily expresses +to my mind the distinction between the much-maligned material +sages—material in one sense, I suppose, but in another very +immaterial sages—of the Celestial Empire school. +Consider whether it is likely or unlikely, natural or unnatural, +reasonable or unreasonable, that I, a being capable of thought, +and finding myself surrounded by such discovered wonders on every +hand, should sometimes ask myself the question—should put +to myself the solemn consideration—can these things be +among those things which might have been disclosed by divine lips +nigh upon two thousand years ago, but that the people of that +time could not bear them? And whether this be so or no, if +I am so surrounded on every hand, is not my moral responsibility +tremendously increased thereby, and with it my intelligence and +submission as a child of Adam and of the dust, before that +Shining Source which equally of all that is granted and all that +is withheld holds in His mighty hands the unapproachable +mysteries of life and death.</p> +<p>To the students of your industrial classes generally I have +had it in my mind, first, to commend the short motto, in two +words, “Courage—Persevere.” This is the +motto of a friend and worker. Not because the eyes of +Europe are upon them, for I don’t in the least believe it; +nor because the eyes of even England are upon them, for I +don’t in the least believe it; not because their doings +will be proclaimed with blast of trumpet at street corners, for +no such musical performances will take place; not because +self-improvement is at all certain to lead to worldly success, +but simply because it is good and right of itself, and because, +being so, it does assuredly bring with it its own resources and +its own rewards. I would further commend to them a very +wise and witty piece of advice on the conduct of the +understanding which was given more than half a century ago by the +Rev. Sydney Smith—wisest and wittiest of the friends I have +lost. He says—and he is speaking, you will please +understand, as I speak, to a school of volunteer +students—he says: “There is a piece of foppery which +is to be cautiously guarded against, the foppery of universality, +of knowing all sciences and excelling in all +arts—chymistry, mathematics, algebra, dancing, history, +reasoning, riding, fencing, Low Dutch, High Dutch, and natural +philosophy. In short, the modern precept of education very +often is, ‘Take the Admirable Crichton for your model, I +would have you ignorant of nothing.’ Now,” says +he, “my advice, on the contrary, is to have the courage to +be ignorant of a great number of things, in order that you may +avoid the calamity of being ignorant of everything.”</p> +<p>To this I would superadd a little truth, which holds equally +good of my own life and the life of every eminent man I have ever +known. The one serviceable, safe, certain, remunerative, +attainable quality in every study and in every pursuit is the +quality of attention. My own invention or imagination, such +as it is, I can most truthfully assure you, would never have +served me as it has, but for the habit of commonplace, humble, +patient, daily, toiling, drudging attention. Genius, +vivacity, quickness of penetration, brilliancy in association of +ideas—such mental qualities, like the qualities of the +apparition of the externally armed head in <i>Macbeth</i>, will +not be commanded; but attention, after due term of submissive +service, always will. Like certain plants which the poorest +peasant may grow in the poorest soil, it can be cultivated by any +one, and it is certain in its own good season to bring forth +flowers and fruit. I can most truthfully assure you +by-the-by, that this eulogium on attention is so far quite +disinterested on my part as that it has not the least reference +whatever to the attention with which you have honoured me.</p> +<p>Well, ladies and gentlemen, I have done. I cannot but +reflect how often you have probably heard within these walls one +of the foremost men, and certainly one of the very best speakers, +if not the very best, in England. I could not say to +myself, when I began just now, in Shakespeare’s +line—</p> +<blockquote><p style="text-align: center">“I will be <span +class="GutSmall">BRIGHT</span> and shining gold,”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>but I could say to myself, and I did say to myself, “I +will be as natural and easy as I possibly can,” because my +heart has all been in my subject, and I bear an old love towards +Birmingham and Birmingham men. I have said that I bear an +old love towards Birmingham and Birmingham men; let me amend a +small omission, and add “and Birmingham women.” +This ring I wear on my finger now is an old Birmingham gift, and +if by rubbing it I could raise the spirit that was obedient to +Aladdin’s ring, I heartily assure you that my first +instruction to that genius on the spot should be to place himself +at Birmingham’s disposal in the best of causes.</p> + +<div class="gapshortline"> </div> +<p>[In acknowledging the vote of thanks, Mr. Dickens +said:—]</p> +<p>Ladies and gentlemen, as I hope it is more than possible that +I shall have the pleasure of meeting you again before Christmas +is out, and shall have the great interest of seeing the faces and +touching the bands of the successful competitors in your lists, I +will not cast upon that anticipated meeting the terrible +foreshadowing of dread which must inevitably result from a second +speech. I thank you most heartily, and I most sincerely and +fervently say to you, “Good night, and God bless +you.” In reference to the appropriate and excellent +remarks of Mr. Dixon, I will now discharge my conscience of my +political creed, which is contained in two articles, and has no +reference to any party or persons. My faith in the people +governing is, on the whole, infinitesimal; my faith in the People +governed is, on the whole, illimitable.</p> +<h2><a name="page256"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +256</span>XLIII.<br /> +BIRMINGHAM, JANUARY 6, 1870.</h2> +<p class="gutsumm">[On the evening of the above date, Mr. +Dickens, as President of the Birmingham and Midland Institute, +distributed the prizes and certificates awarded to the most +successful students in the first year. The proceedings took +place in the Town Hall: Mr. Dickens entered at eight +o’clock, accompanied by the officers of the Institute, and +was received with loud applause. After the lapse of a +minute or two, he rose and said:—]</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Ladies and gentlemen</span>,—When I +last had the honour to preside over a meeting of the Institution +which again brings us together, I took occasion to remark upon a +certain superabundance of public speaking which seems to me to +distinguish the present time. It will require very little +self-denial on my part to practise now what I preached then; +firstly, because I said my little say that night; and secondly, +because we have definite and highly interesting action before us +to-night. We have now to bestow the rewards which have been +brilliantly won by the most successful competitors in the +society’s lists. I say the most successful, because +to-night we should particularly observe, I think, that there is +success in all honest endeavour, and that there is some victory +gained in every gallant struggle that is made. To strive at +all involves a victory achieved over sloth, inertness, and +indifference; and competition for these prizes involves, besides, +in the vast majority of cases, competition with and mastery +asserted over circumstances adverse to the effort made. +Therefore, every losing competitor among my hearers may be +certain that he has still won much—very much—and that +he can well afford to swell the triumph of his rivals who have +passed him in the race.</p> +<p>I have applied the word “rewards” to these prizes, +and I do so, not because they represent any great intrinsic worth +in silver or gold, but precisely because they do not. They +represent what is above all price—what can be stated in no +arithmetical figures, and what is one of the great needs of the +human soul—encouraging sympathy. They are an +assurance to every student present or to come in your +institution, that he does not work either neglected or +unfriended, and that he is watched, felt for, stimulated, and +appreciated. Such an assurance, conveyed in the presence of +this large assembly, and striking to the breasts of the +recipients that thrill which is inseparable from any great united +utterance of feeling, is a reward, to my thinking, as purely +worthy of the labour as the labour itself is worthy of the +reward; and by a sensitive spirit can never be forgotten.</p> +<p>[One of the prize-takers was a Miss Winkle, a name suggestive +of “Pickwick,” which was received with laugher. +Mr. Dickens made some remarks to the lady in an undertone; and +then observed to the audience, “I have recommended Miss +Winkle to change her name.” The prizes having been +distributed, Mr. Dickens made a second brief speech. He +said:—]</p> +<p>The prizes are now all distributed, and I have discharged +myself of the delightful task you have entrusted to me; and if +the recipients of these prizes and certificates who have come +upon this platform have had the genuine pleasure in receiving +their acknowledgments from my hands that I have had in placing +them in theirs, they are in a true Christian temper +to-night. I have the painful sense upon me, that it is +reserved for some one else to enjoy this great satisfaction of +mind next time. It would be useless for the few short +moments longer to disguise the fact that I happen to have drawn +King this Twelfth Night, but that another Sovereign will very +soon sit upon my inconstant throne. To-night I abdicate, +or, what is much the same thing in the modern annals of +Royalty—I am politely dethroned. This melancholy +reflection, ladies and gentlemen, brings me to a very small +point, personal to myself, upon which I will beg your permission +to say a closing word.</p> +<p>When I was here last autumn I made, in reference to some +remarks of your respected member, Mr. Dixon, a short confession +of my political faith—or perhaps I should better say want +of faith. It imported that I have very little confidence in +the people who govern us—please to observe +“people” there will be with a small +“p,”—but that I have great confidence in the +People whom they govern; please to observe “people” +there with a large “P.” This was shortly and +elliptically stated, and was with no evil intention, I am +absolutely sure, in some quarters inversely explained. +Perhaps as the inventor of a certain extravagant fiction, but one +which I do see rather frequently quoted as if there were grains +of truth at the bottom of it—a fiction called the +“Circumlocution Office,”—and perhaps also as +the writer of an idle book or two, whose public opinions are not +obscurely stated—perhaps in these respects I do not +sufficiently bear in mind Hamlet’s caution to speak by the +card lest equivocation should undo me.</p> +<p>Now I complain of nobody; but simply in order that there may +be no mistake as to what I did mean, and as to what I do mean, I +will re-state my meaning, and I will do so in the words of a +great thinker, a great writer, and a great scholar, <a +name="citation259"></a><a href="#footnote259" +class="citation">[259]</a> whose death, unfortunately for +mankind, cut short his “History of Civilization in +England:”—“They may talk as they will about +reforms which Government has introduced and improvements to be +expected from legislation, but whoever will take a wider and more +commanding view of human affairs, will soon discover that such +hopes are chimerical. They will learn that lawgivers are +nearly always the obstructors of society instead of its helpers, +and that in the extremely few cases where their measures have +turned out well their success has been owing to the fact that, +contrary to their usual custom, they have implicitly obeyed the +spirit of their time, and have been—as they always should +be—the mere servants of the people, to whose wishes they +are bound to give a public and legal sanction.”</p> +<h2><a name="page260"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +260</span>XLIV.<br /> +LONDON, APRIL 6, 1846. <a name="citation260"></a><a +href="#footnote260" class="citation">[260]</a></h2> +<p class="gutsumm">[The first anniversary festival of the General +Theatrical Fund Association was held on the evening of the above +date at the London Tavern. The chair was taken by Mr. +Dickens, who thus proposed the principal toast:]</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Gentlemen</span>,—In offering to you +a toast which has not as yet been publicly drunk in any company, +it becomes incumbent on me to offer a few words in explanation: +in the first place, premising that the toast will be “The +General Theatrical Fund.”</p> +<p>The Association, whose anniversary we celebrate to-night, was +founded seven years ago, for the purpose of granting permanent +pensions to such of the <i>corps dramatique</i> as had retired +from the stage, either from a decline in their years or a decay +of their powers. Collected within the scope of its +benevolence are all actors and actresses, singers, or dancers, of +five years’ standing in the profession. To relieve +their necessities and to protect them from want is the great end +of the Society, and it is good to know that for seven years the +members of it have steadily, patiently, quietly, and +perseveringly pursued this end, advancing by regular +contribution, moneys which many of them could ill afford, and +cheered by no external help or assistance of any kind +whatsoever. It has thus served a regular apprenticeship, +but I trust that we shall establish to-night that its time is +out, and that henceforth the Fund will enter upon a flourishing +and brilliant career.</p> +<p>I have no doubt that you are all aware that there are, and +were when this institution was founded, two other institutions +existing of a similar nature—Covent Garden and Drury +Lane—both of long standing, both richly endowed. It +cannot, however, be too distinctly understood, that the present +Institution is not in any way adverse to those. How can it +be when it is only a wide and broad extension of all that is most +excellent in the principles on which they are founded? That +such an extension was absolutely necessary was sufficiently +proved by the fact that the great body of the dramatic corps were +excluded from the benefits conferred by a membership of either of +these institutions; for it was essential, in order to become a +member of the Drury Lane Society, that the applicant, either he +or she, should have been engaged for three consecutive seasons as +a performer. This was afterwards reduced, in the case of +Covent Garden, to a period of two years, but it really is as +exclusive one way as the other, for I need not tell you that +Covent Garden is now but a vision of the past. You might +play the bottle conjuror with its dramatic company and put them +all into a pint bottle. The human voice is rarely heard +within its walls save in connexion with corn, or the ambidextrous +prestidigitation of the Wizard of the North. In like +manner, Drury Lane is conducted now with almost a sole view to +the opera and ballet, insomuch that the statue of Shakespeare +over the door serves as emphatically to point out his grave as +his bust did in the church of Stratford-upon-Avon. How can +the profession generally hope to qualify for the Drury Lane or +Covent Garden institution, when the oldest and most distinguished +members have been driven from the boards on which they have +earned their reputations, to delight the town in theatres to +which the General Theatrical Fund alone extended?</p> +<p>I will again repeat that I attach no reproach to those other +Funds, with which I have had the honour of being connected at +different periods of my life. At the time those +Associations were established, an engagement at one of those +theatres was almost a matter of course, and a successful +engagement would last a whole life; but an engagement of two +months’ duration at Covent Garden would be a perfect Old +Parr of an engagement just now. It should never be +forgotten that when those two funds were established, the two +great theatres were protected by patent, and that at that time +the minor theatres were condemned by law to the representation of +the most preposterous nonsense, and some gentlemen whom I see +around me could no more belong to the minor theatres of that day +than they could now belong to St. Bartholomew fair.</p> +<p>As I honour the two old funds for the great good which they +have done, so I honour this for the much greater good it is +resolved to do. It is not because I love them less, but +because I love this more—because it includes more in its +operation.</p> +<p>Let us ever remember that there is no class of actors who +stand so much in need of a retiring fund as those who do not win +the great prizes, but who are nevertheless an essential part of +the theatrical system, and by consequence bear a part in +contributing to our pleasures. We owe them a debt which we +ought to pay. The beds of such men are not of roses, but of +very artificial flowers indeed. Their lives are lives of +care and privation, and hard struggles with very stern +realities. It is from among the poor actors who drink wine +from goblets, in colour marvellously like toast and water, and +who preside at Barmecide beasts with wonderful appetites for +steaks,—it is from their ranks that the most triumphant +favourites have sprung. And surely, besides this, the +greater the instruction and delight we derive from the rich +English drama, the more we are bound to succour and protect the +humblest of those votaries of the art who add to our instruction +and amusement.</p> +<p>Hazlitt has well said that “There is no class of society +whom so many persons regard with affection as actors. We +greet them on the stage, we like to meet them in the streets; +they almost always recal to us pleasant associations.” <a +name="citation263"></a><a href="#footnote263" +class="citation">[263]</a> When they have strutted and +fretted their hour upon the stage, let them not be heard no +more—but let them be heard sometimes to say that they are +happy in their old age. When they have passed for the last +time from behind that glittering row of lights with which we are +all familiar, let them not pass away into gloom and +darkness,—but let them pass into cheerfulness and +light—into a contented and happy home.</p> +<p>This is the object for which we have met; and I am too +familiar with the English character not to know that it will be +effected. When we come suddenly in a crowded street upon +the careworn features of a familiar face—crossing us like +the ghost of pleasant hours long forgotten—let us not recal +those features with pain, in sad remembrance of what they once +were, but let us in joy recognise it, and go back a pace or two +to meet it once again, as that of a friend who has beguiled us of +a moment of care, who has taught us to sympathize with virtuous +grief, cheating us to tears for sorrows not our own—and we +all know how pleasant are such tears. Let such a face be +ever remembered as that of our benefactor and our friend.</p> +<p>I tried to recollect, in coming here, whether I had ever been +in any theatre in my life from which I had not brought away some +pleasant association, however poor the theatre, and I protest, +out of my varied experience, I could not remember even one from +which I had not brought some favourable impression, and that, +commencing with the period when I believed the clown was a being +born into the world with infinite pockets, and ending with that +in which I saw the other night, outside one of the “Royal +Saloons,” a playbill which showed me ships completely +rigged, carrying men, and careering over boundless and +tempestuous oceans. And now, bespeaking your kindest +remembrance of our theatres and actors, I beg to propose that you +drink as heartily and freely as ever a toast was drunk in this +toast-drinking city “Prosperity to the General Theatrical +Fund.”</p> +<h2><a name="page265"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +265</span>XLV.<br /> +LEEDS, DECEMBER 1, 1847.</h2> +<p class="gutsumm">[On the above evening a Soirée of the +Leeds Mechanics’ Institution took place, at which about +1200 persons were present. The chair was taken by Mr. +Dickens, who thus addressed the meeting:]</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Ladies and gentlemen</span>,—Believe +me, speaking to you with a most disastrous cold, which makes my +own voice sound very strangely in my ears—that if I were +not gratified and honoured beyond expression by your cordial +welcome, I should have considered the invitation to occupy my +present position in this brilliant assemblage in itself a +distinction not easy to be surpassed. The cause in which we +are assembled and the objects we are met to promote, I take, and +always have taken to be, <i>the</i> cause and <i>the</i> objects +involving almost all others that are essential to the welfare and +happiness of mankind. And in a celebration like the +present, commemorating the birth and progress of a great +educational establishment, I recognise a something, not limited +to the spectacle of the moment, beautiful and radiant though it +be—not limited even to the success of the particular +establishment in which we are more immediately +interested—but extending from this place and through swarms +of toiling men elsewhere, cheering and stimulating them in the +onward, upward path that lies before us all. Wherever +hammers beat, or wherever factory chimneys smoke, wherever hands +are busy, or the clanking of machinery resounds—wherever, +in a word, there are masses of industrious human beings whom +their wise Creator did not see fit to constitute all body, but +into each and every one of whom He breathed a mind—there, I +would fain believe, some touch of sympathy and encouragement is +felt from our collective pulse now beating in this Hall.</p> +<p>Ladies and gentlemen, glancing with such feelings at the +report of your Institution for the present year sent to me by +your respected President—whom I cannot help feeling it, +by-the-bye, a kind of crime to depose, even thus peacefully, and +for so short a time—I say, glancing over this report, I +found one statement of fact in the very opening which gave me an +uncommon satisfaction. It is, that a great number of the +members and subscribers are among that class of persons for whose +advantage Mechanics’ Institutions were originated, namely, +persons receiving weekly wages. This circumstance gives me +the greatest delight. I am sure that no better testimony +could be borne to the merits and usefulness of this Institution, +and that no better guarantee could be given for its continued +prosperity and advancement.</p> +<p>To such Associations as this, in their darker hours, there may +yet reappear now and then the spectral shadow of a certain dead +and buried opposition; but before the light of a steady trust in +them on the part of the general people, bearing testimony to the +virtuous influences of such Institutions by their own +intelligence and conduct, the ghost will melt away like early +vapour from the ground. Fear of such Institutions as +these! We have heard people sometimes speak with jealousy +of them,—with distrust of them! Imagine here, on +either hand, two great towns like Leeds, full of busy men, all of +them feeling necessarily, and some of them heavily, the burdens +and inequalities inseparable from civilized society. In +this town there is ignorance, dense and dark; in that town, +education—the best of education; that which the grown man +from day to day and year to year furnishes for himself and +maintains for himself, and in right of which his education goes +on all his life, instead of leaving off, complacently, just when +he begins to live in the social system. Now, which of these +two towns has a good man, or a good cause, reason to distrust and +dread? “The educated one,” does some timid +politician, with a marvellously weak sight, say (as I have heard +such politicians say), “because knowledge is power, and +because it won’t do to have too much power +abroad.” Why, ladies and gentlemen, reflect whether +ignorance be not power, and a very dreadful power. Look +where we will, do we not find it powerful for every kind of wrong +and evil? Powerful to take its enemies to its heart, and +strike its best friends down—powerful to fill the prisons, +the hospitals, and the graves—powerful for blind violence, +prejudice, and error, in all their gloomy and destructive +shapes. Whereas the power of knowledge, if I understand it, +is, to bear and forbear; to learn the path of duty and to tread +it; to engender that self-respect which does not stop at self, +but cherishes the best respect for the best objects—to turn +an always enlarging acquaintance with the joys and sorrows, +capabilities and imperfections of our race to daily account in +mildness of life and gentleness of construction and humble +efforts for the improvement, stone by stone, of the whole social +fabric.</p> +<p>I never heard but one tangible position taken against +educational establishments for the people, and that was, that in +this or that instance, or in these or those instances, education +for the people has failed. And I have never traced even +this to its source but I have found that the term education, so +employed, meant anything but education—implied the mere +imperfect application of old, ignorant, preposterous +spelling-book lessons to the meanest purposes—as if you +should teach a child that there is no higher end in electricity, +for example, than expressly to strike a mutton-pie out of the +hand of a greedy boy—and on which it is as unreasonable to +found an objection to education in a comprehensive sense, as it +would be to object altogether to the combing of youthful hair, +because in a certain charity school they had a practice of +combing it into the pupils’ eyes.</p> +<p>Now, ladies and gentlemen, I turn to the report of this +Institution, on whose behalf we are met; and I start with the +education given there, and I find that it really is an education +that is deserving of the name. I find that there are papers +read and lectures delivered, on a variety of subjects of interest +and importance. I find that there are evening classes +formed for the acquisition of sound, useful English information, +and for the study of those two important languages, daily +becoming more important in the business of life,—the French +and German. I find that there is a class for drawing, a +chemical class, subdivided into the elementary branch and the +manufacturing branch, most important here. I find that +there is a day-school at twelve shillings a quarter, which small +cost, besides including instruction in all that is useful to the +merchant and the man of business, admits to all the advantages of +the parent institution. I find that there is a School of +Design established in connexion with the Government School; and +that there was in January this year, a library of between six and +seven thousand books. Ladies and gentlemen, if any man +would tell me that anything but good could come of such knowledge +as this, all I can say is, that I should consider him a new and +most lamentable proof of the necessity of such institutions, and +should regard him in his own person as a melancholy instance of +what a man may come to by never having belonged to one or +sympathized with one.</p> +<p>There is one other paragraph in this report which struck my +eye in looking over it, and on which I cannot help offering a +word of joyful notice. It is the steady increase that +appears to have taken place in the number of lady +members—among whom I hope I may presume are included some +of the bright fair faces that are clustered around me. +Gentlemen, I hold that it is not good for man to be +alone—even in Mechanics’ Institutions; and I rank it +as very far from among the last or least of the merits of such +places, that he need not be alone there, and that he is +not. I believe that the sympathy and society of those who +are our best and dearest friends in infancy, in childhood, in +manhood, and in old age, the most devoted and least selfish +natures that we know on earth, who turn to us always constant and +unchanged, when others turn away, should greet us here, if +anywhere, and go on with us side by side.</p> +<p>I know, gentlemen, by the evidence of my own proper senses at +this moment, that there are charms and graces in such greetings, +such as no other greeting can possess. I know that in every +beautiful work of the Almighty hand, which is illustrated in your +lectures, and in every real or ideal portraiture of fortitude and +goodness that you find in your books, there is something that +must bring you home again to them for its brightest and best +example. And therefore, gentlemen, I hope that you will +never be without them, or without an increasing number of them in +your studies and your commemorations; and that an immense number +of new marriages, and other domestic festivals naturally +consequent upon those marriages, may be traced back from time to +time to the Leeds Mechanics’ Institution.</p> +<p>There are many gentlemen around me, distinguished by their +public position and service, or endeared to you by frequent +intercourse, or by their zealous efforts on behalf of the cause +which brings us together; and to them I shall beg leave to refer +you for further observations on this happy and interesting +occasion; begging to congratulate you finally upon the occasion +itself; upon the prosperity and thriving prospects of your +institution; and upon our common and general good fortune in +living in these times, when the means of mental culture and +improvement are presented cheaply, socially, and cheerfully, and +not in dismal cells or lonely garrets. And lastly, I +congratulate myself, I assure you most heartily, upon the part +with which I am honoured on an occasion so congenial to my +warmest feelings and sympathies, and I beg to thank you for such +evidences of your good-will, as I never can coldly remember and +never forget.</p> + +<div class="gapshortline"> </div> +<p>[In acknowledging the vote of thanks, Mr. Dickens +said:—]</p> +<p>Ladies and Gentlemen,—It is a great satisfaction to me +that this question has been put by the Mayor, inasmuch as I hope +I may receive it as a token that he has forgiven me those +extremely large letters, which I must say, from the glimpse I +caught of them when I arrived in the town, looked like a leaf +from the first primer of a very promising young giant.</p> +<p>I will only observe, in reference to the proceeding of this +evening, that after what I have seen, and the excellent speeches +I have heard from gentlemen of so many different callings and +persuasions, meeting here as on neutral ground, I do more +strongly and sincerely believe than I ever have in my +life,—and that is saying a great deal,—that +institutions such as this will be the means of refining and +improving that social edifice which has been so often mentioned +to-night, until,—unlike that Babel tower that would have +taken heaven by storm,—it shall end in sweet accord and +harmony amongst all classes of its builders.</p> +<p>Ladies and gentlemen, most respectfully and heartily I bid you +good night and good-bye, and I trust the next time we meet it +will be in even greater numbers, and in a larger room, and that +we often shall meet again, to recal this evening, then of the +past, and remember it as one of a series of increasing triumphs +of your excellent institution.</p> +<h2><a name="page272"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +272</span>XLVI.<br /> +GLASGOW, DECEMBER 28, 1847.</h2> +<p class="gutsumm">[The first Soirée, commemorative of the +opening of the Glasgow Athenæum took place on the above +evening in the City Hall. Mr. Charles Dickens presided, and +made the following speech:]</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Ladies and Gentlemen</span>—Let me +begin by endeavouring to convey to you the assurance that not +even the warmth of your reception can possibly exceed, in simple +earnestness, the cordiality of the feeling with which I come +amongst you. This beautiful scene and your generous +greeting would naturally awaken, under any circumstances, no +common feeling within me; but when I connect them with the high +purpose of this brilliant assembly—when I regard it as an +educational example and encouragement to the rest of +Scotland—when I regard it no less as a recognition on the +part of everybody here of the right, indisputable and +inalienable, of all those who are actively engaged in the work +and business of life to elevate and improve themselves so far as +in them lies, by all good means—I feel as if I stand here +to swear brotherhood to all the young men in Glasgow;—and I +may say to all the young women in Glasgow; being unfortunately in +no position to take any tenderer vows upon myself—and as if +we were pledged from this time henceforth to make common cause +together in one of the most laudable and worthy of human +objects.</p> +<p>Ladies and gentlemen, a common cause must be made in such a +design as that which brings us together this night; for without +it, nothing can be done, but with it, everything. It is a +common cause of right, God knows; for it is idle to suppose that +the advantages of such an institution as the Glasgow +Athenæum will stop within its own walls or be confined to +its own members. Through all the society of this great and +important city, upwards to the highest and downwards to the +lowest, it must, I know, be felt for good. Downward in a +clearer perception of, and sympathy with, those social miseries +which can be alleviated, and those wide-open doors to vice and +crime that can be shut and barred; and upward in a greater +intelligence, increased efficiency, and higher knowledge, of all +who partake of its benefits themselves, or who communicate, as +all must do, in a greater or less degree, some portion to the +circle of relatives or friends in which they move.</p> +<p>Nor, ladies and gentlemen, would I say for any man, however +high his social position, or however great his attainments, that +he might not find something to be learnt even from immediate +contact with such institutions. If he only saw the goddess +Knowledge coming out of her secluded palaces and high places to +mingle with the throng, and to give them shining glimpses of the +delights which were long kept hoarded up, he might learn +something. If he only saw the energy and the courage with +which those who earn their daily bread by the labour of their +hands or heads, come night after night, as to a recreation, to +that which was, perhaps, the whole absorbing business of his +youth, there might still be something very wholesome for him to +learn. But when he could see in such places their genial +and reviving influences, their substituting of the contemplation +of the beauties of nature and art, and of the wisdom of great +men, for mere sensual enjoyment or stupid idleness—at any +rate he would learn this—that it is at once the duty and +the interest of all good members of society to encourage and +protect them.</p> +<p>I took occasion to say at an Athenæum in Yorkshire a few +weeks since, <a name="citation274"></a><a href="#footnote274" +class="citation">[274]</a> and I think it a point most important +to be borne in mind on such commemorations as these, that when +such societies are objected to, or are decried on the ground that +in the views of the objectors, education among the people has not +succeeded, the term education is used with not the least +reference to its real meaning, and is wholly misunderstood. +Mere reading and writing is not education; it would be quite as +reasonable to call bricks and mortar architecture—oils and +colours art—reeds and cat-gut music—or the +child’s spelling-books the works of Shakespeare, Milton, or +Bacon—as to call the lowest rudiments of education, +education, and to visit on that most abused and slandered word +their failure in any instance; and precisely because they were +not education; because, generally speaking, the word has been +understood in that sense a great deal too long; because education +for the business of life, and for the due cultivation of domestic +virtues, is at least as important from day to day to the grown +person as to the child; because real education, in the strife and +contention for a livelihood, and the consequent necessity +incumbent on a great number of young persons to go into the world +when they are very young, is extremely difficult. It is +because of these things that I look upon mechanics’ +institutions and athenæums as vitally important to the +well-being of society. It is because the rudiments of +education may there be turned to good account in the acquisition +of sound principles, and of the great virtues, hope, faith, and +charity, to which all our knowledge tends; it is because of that, +I take it, that you have met in education’s name +to-night.</p> +<p>It is a great satisfaction to me to occupy the place I do in +behalf of an infant institution; a remarkably fine child enough, +of a vigorous constitution, but an infant still. I esteem +myself singularly fortunate in knowing it before its prime, in +the hope that I may have the pleasure of remembering in its +prime, and when it has attained to its lusty maturity, that I was +a friend of its youth. It has already passed through some +of the disorders to which children are liable; it succeeded to an +elder brother of a very meritorious character, but of rather a +weak constitution, and which expired when about twelve months +old, from, it is said, a destructive habit of getting up early in +the morning: it succeeded this elder brother, and has fought +manfully through a sea of troubles. Its friends have often +been much concerned for it; its pulse has been exceedingly low, +being only 1250, when it was expected to have been 10,000; +several relations and friends have even gone so far as to walk +off once or twice in the melancholy belief that it was +dead. Through all that, assisted by the indomitable energy +of one or two nurses, to whom it can never be sufficiently +grateful, it came triumphantly, and now, of all the youthful +members of its family I ever saw, it has the strongest attitude, +the healthiest look, the brightest and most cheerful air. I +find the institution nobly lodged; I find it with a reading-room, +a coffee-room, and a news-room; I find it with lectures given and +in progress, in sound, useful and well-selected subjects; I find +it with morning and evening classes for mathematics, logic, +grammar, music, French, German, Spanish, and Italian, attended by +upwards of five hundred persons; but, best and first of all and +what is to me more satisfactory than anything else in the history +of the institution, I find that all, this has been mainly +achieved by the young men of Glasgow themselves, with very little +assistance. And, ladies and gentlemen, as the axiom, +“Heaven helps those who help themselves,” is truer in +no case than it is in this, I look to the young men of Glasgow, +from such a past and such a present, to a noble future. +Everything that has been done in any other athenæum, I +confidently expect to see done here; and when that shall be the +case, and when there shall be great cheap schools in connexion +with the institution, and when it has bound together for ever all +its friends, and brought over to itself all those who look upon +it as an objectionable institution,—then, and not till +then, I hope the young men of Glasgow will rest from their +labours, and think their study done.</p> +<p>If the young men of Glasgow want any stimulus or encouragement +in this wise, they have one beside them in the presence of their +fair townswomen, which is irresistible. It is a most +delightful circumstance to me, and one fraught with inestimable +benefits to institutions of this kind, that at a meeting of this +nature those who in all things are our best examples, +encouragers, and friends, are not excluded. The abstract +idea of the Graces was in ancient times associated with those +arts which refine the human understanding; and it is pleasant to +see now, in the rolling of the world, the Graces popularising the +practice of those arts by their example, and adorning it with +their presence.</p> +<p>I am happy to know that in the Glasgow Athenæum there is +a peculiar bond of union between the institution and the fairest +part of creation. I understand that the necessary addition +to the small library of books being difficult and expensive to +make, the ladies have generally resolved to hold a fancy bazaar, +and to devote the proceeds to this admirable purpose; and I learn +with no less pleasure that her Majesty the Queen, in a graceful +and womanly sense of the excellence of this design, has consented +that the bazaar shall be held under her royal patronage. I +can only say, that if you do not find something very noble in +your books after this, you are much duller students than I take +you to be. The ladies—the single ladies, at +least—however disinterested I know they are by sex and +nature, will, I hope, resolve to have some of the advantages of +these books, by never marrying any but members of the +Athenæum. It seems to me it ought to be the +pleasantest library in the world.</p> +<p>Hazlitt says, in speaking of some of the graceful fancies of +some familiar writer of fiction, “How long since I first +became acquainted with these characters; what old-fashioned +friends they seem; and yet I am not tired of them like so many +other friends, nor they of me.” In this case the +books will not only possess all the attractions of their own +friendships and charms, but also the manifold—I may say +womanfold—associations connected with their donors. I +can imagine how, in fact, from these fanciful associations, some +fair Glasgow widow may be taken for the remoter one whom Sir +Roger de Coverley could not forget; I can imagine how +Sophia’s muff may be seen and loved, but not by Tom Jones, +going down the High Street on any winter day; or I can imagine +the student finding in every fair form the exact counterpart of +the Glasgow Athenæum, and taking into consideration the +history of Europe without the consent of Sheriff Alison. I +can imagine, in short, how through all the facts and fictions of +this library, these ladies will be always active, and that</p> +<blockquote><p>“Age will not wither them, nor custom +stale<br /> +Their infinite variety.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>It seems to me to be a moral, delightful, and happy chance, +that this meeting has been held at this genial season of the +year, when a new time is, as it were, opening before us, and when +we celebrate the birth of that divine and blessed Teacher, who +took the highest knowledge into the humblest places, and whose +great system comprehended all mankind. I hail it as a most +auspicious omen, at this time of the year, when many scattered +friends and families are re-assembled, for the members of this +institution to be calling men together from all quarters, with a +brotherly view to the general good, and a view to the general +improvement; as I consider that such designs are practically +worthy of the faith we hold, and a practical remembrance of the +words, “On earth peace, and good will toward +men.” I hope that every year which dawns on your +Institution, will find it richer in its means of usefulness, and +grayer-headed in the honour and respect it has gained. It +can hardly speak for itself more appropriately than in the words +of an English writer, when contemplating the English emblem of +this period of the year, the holly-tree:—</p> +<p>[Mr. Dickens concluded by quoting the last three stanzas of +Southey’s poem, <i>The Holly Tree</i>.]</p> + +<div class="gapshortline"> </div> +<p>[In acknowledging a vote of thanks proposed by Sir Archibald +(then Mr.) Alison, Mr. Dickens said:]</p> +<p>Ladies and Gentlemen,—I am no stranger—and I say +it with the deepest gratitude—to the warmth of Scottish +hearts; but the warmth of your present welcome almost deprives me +of any hope of acknowledging it. I will not detain you any +longer at this late hour; let it suffice to assure you, that for +taking the part with which I have been honoured in this festival, +I have been repaid a thousand-fold by your abundant kindness, and +by the unspeakable gratification it has afforded me. I hope +that, before many years are past, we may have another meeting in +public, when we shall rejoice at the immense progress your +institution will have made in the meantime, and look back upon +this night with new pleasure and satisfaction. I shall now, +in conclusion, repeat most heartily and fervently the quotation +of Dr. Ewing, the late Provost of Glasgow, which Bailie Nicol +Jarvie, himself “a Glasgow body,” observed was +“elegantly putten round the town’s arms.”</p> +<h2><a name="page280"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +280</span>XLVII.<br /> +LONDON, APRIL 14, 1851.</h2> +<p class="gutsumm">[The Sixth Annual Dinner of the General +Theatrical Fund was held at the London Tavern on the above +date. Mr. Charles Dickens occupied the chair, and in giving +the toast of the evening said:—]</p> +<p>I <span class="smcap">have</span> so often had the +satisfaction of bearing my testimony, in this place, to the +usefulness of the excellent Institution in whose behalf we are +assembled, that I should be really sensible of the disadvantage +of having now nothing to say in proposing the toast you all +anticipate, if I were not well assured that there is really +nothing which needs be said. I have to appeal to you on the +old grounds, and no ingenuity of mine could render those grounds +of greater weight than they have hitherto successfully proved to +you.</p> +<p>Although the General Theatrical Fund Association, unlike many +other public societies and endowments, is represented by no +building, whether of stone, or brick, or glass, like that +astonishing evidence of the skill and energy of my friend Mr. +Paxton, which all the world is now called upon to admire, and the +great merit of which, as you learn from the best authorities, is, +that it ought to have fallen down long before it was built, and +yet that it would by no means consent to doing so—although, +I say, this Association possesses no architectural home, it is +nevertheless as plain a fact, rests on as solid a foundation, and +carries as erect a front, as any building, in the world. +And the best and the utmost that its exponent and its advocate +can do, standing here, is to point it out to those who gather +round it, and to say, “judge for yourselves.”</p> +<p>It may not, however, be improper for me to suggest to that +portion of the company whose previous acquaintance with it may +have been limited, what it is not. It is not a theatrical +association whose benefits are confined to a small and exclusive +body of actors. It is a society whose claims are always +preferred in the name of the whole histrionic art. It is +not a theatrical association adapted to a state of theatrical +things entirely past and gone, and no more suited to present +theatrical requirements than a string of pack-horses would be +suited to the conveyance of traffic between London and +Birmingham. It is not a rich old gentleman, with the gout +in his vitals, brushed and got-up once a year to look as vigorous +as possible, and brought out for a public airing by the few +survivors of a large family of nephews and nieces, who afterwards +double-lock the street-door upon the poor relations. It is +not a theatrical association which insists that no actor can +share its bounty who has not walked so many years on those boards +where the English tongue is never heard—between the little +bars of music in an aviary of singing birds, to which the +unwieldy Swan of Avon is never admitted—that bounty which +was gathered in the name and for the elevation of an +all-embracing art.</p> +<p>No, if there be such things, this thing is not of that +kind. This is a theatrical association, expressly adapted +to the wants and to the means of the whole theatrical profession +all over England. It is a society in which the word +exclusiveness is wholly unknown. It is a society which +includes every actor, whether he be Benedict or Hamlet, or the +Ghost, or the Bandit, or the court-physician, or, in the one +person, the whole King’s army. He may do the +“light business,” or the “heavy,” or the +comic, or the eccentric. He may be the captain who courts +the young lady, whose uncle still unaccountably persists in +dressing himself in a costume one hundred years older than his +time. Or he may be the young lady’s brother in the +white gloves and inexpressibles, whose duty in the family appears +to be to listen to the female members of it whenever they sing, +and to shake hands with everybody between all the verses. +Or he may be the baron who gives the fête, and who sits +uneasily on the sofa under a canopy with the baroness while the +fête is going on. Or he may be the peasant at the +fête who comes on the stage to swell the drinking chorus, +and who, it may be observed, always turns his glass upside down +before he begins to drink out of it. Or he may be the clown +who takes away the doorstep of the house where the evening party +is going on. Or he may be the gentleman who issues out of +the house on the false alarm, and is precipitated into the +area. Or, to come to the actresses, she may be the fairy +who resides for ever in a revolving star with an occasional visit +to a bower or a palace. Or the actor may be the armed head +of the witch’s cauldron; or even that extraordinary witch, +concerning whom I have observed in country places, that he is +much less like the notion formed from the description of Hopkins +than the Malcolm or Donalbain of the previous scenes. This +society, in short, says, “Be you what you may, be you actor +or actress, be your path in your profession never so high, or +never so low, never so haughty, or never so humble, we offer you +the means of doing good to yourselves, and of doing good to your +brethren.”</p> +<p>This society is essentially a provident institution, appealing +to a class of men to take care of their own interests, and giving +a continuous security only in return for a continuous sacrifice +and effort. The actor by the means of this society obtains +his own right, to no man’s wrong; and when, in old age, or +in disastrous times, he makes his claim on the institution, he is +enabled to say, “I am neither a beggar, nor a +suppliant. I am but reaping what I sowed long +ago.” And therefore it is that I cannot hold out to +you that in assisting this fund you are doing an act of charity +in the common acceptation of that phrase. Of all the abuses +of that much abused term, none have more raised my indignation +than what I have heard in this room in past times, in reference +to this institution. I say, if you help this institution +you will be helping the wagoner who has resolutely put his own +shoulder to the wheel, and who has <i>not</i> stuck idle in the +mud. In giving this aid you will be doing an act of +justice, and you will be performing an act of gratitude; and this +is what I solicit from you; but I will not so far wrong those who +are struggling manfully for their own independence as to pretend +to entreat from you an act of charity.</p> +<p>I have used the word gratitude; and let any man ask his own +heart, and confess if he have not some grateful acknowledgments +for the actor’s art? Not peculiarly because it is a +profession often pursued, and as it were marked, by poverty and +misfortune—for other callings, God knows, have their +distresses—nor because the actor has sometimes to come from +scenes of sickness, of suffering, ay, even of death itself, to +play his part before us—for all of us, in our spheres, have +as often to do violence to our feelings and to hide our hearts in +fighting this great battle of life, and in discharging our duties +and responsibilities. But the art of the actor excites +reflections, sombre or grotesque, awful or humorous, which we are +all familiar with. If any man were to tell me that he +denied his acknowledgments to the stage, I would simply put to +him one question—whether he remembered his first play?</p> +<p>If you, gentlemen, will but carry back your recollection to +that great night, and call to mind the bright and harmless world +which then opened to your view, we shall, I think, hear +favourably of the effect upon your liberality on this occasion +from our Secretary.</p> +<p>This is the sixth year of meetings of this kind—the +sixth time we have had this fine child down after dinner. +His nurse, a very worthy person of the name of Buckstone, who has +an excellent character from several places, will presently report +to you that his chest is perfectly sound, and that his general +health is in the most thriving condition. Long may it be +so; long may it thrive and grow; long may we meet (it is my +sincere wish) to exchange our congratulations on its prosperity; +and longer than the line of Banquo may be that line of figures +which, as its patriotic share in the national debt, a century +hence shall be stated by the Governor and Company of the Bank of +England.</p> +<h2><a name="page284"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +284</span>XLVIII.<br /> +THE ROYAL LITERARY FUND.<br /> +LONDON, MARCH 12, 1856.</h2> +<p class="gutsumm">[The Corporation of the Royal Literary Fund +was established in 1790, its object being to administer +assistance to authors of genius and learning, who may be reduced +to distress by unavoidable calamities, or deprived, by enfeebled +faculties or declining life, of the power of literary +exertion. At the annual general meeting held at the house +of the society on the above date, the following speech was made +by Mr. Charles Dickens:]</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Sir</span>,—I shall not attempt to +follow my friend Mr. Bell, who, in the profession of literature, +represents upon this committee a separate and distinct branch of +the profession, that, like</p> +<blockquote><p>“The last rose of summer<br /> +Stands blooming alone,<br /> +While all its companions<br /> +Are faded and gone,”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>into the very prickly bramble-bush with which he has +ingeniously contrived to beset this question. In the +remarks I have to make I shall confine myself to four +points:—1. That the committee find themselves in the +painful condition of not spending enough money, and will +presently apply themselves to the great reform of spending +more. 2. That with regard to the house, it is a positive +matter of history, that the house for which Mr. Williams was so +anxious was to be applied to uses to which it never has been +applied, and which the administrators of the fund decline to +recognise. 3. That, in Mr. Bell’s endeavours to +remove the Artists’ Fund from the ground of analogy it +unquestionably occupies with reference to this fund, by reason of +their continuing periodical relief to the same persons, I beg to +tell Mr. Bell what every gentleman at that table knows—that +it is the business of this fund to relieve over and over again +the same people.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Mr. Bell</span>: But fresh inquiry is +always made first.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Mr. C. Dickens</span>: I can only oppose +to that statement my own experience when I sat on that committee, +and when I have known persons relieved on many consecutive +occasions without further inquiry being made. As to the +suggestion that we should select the items of expenditure that we +complain of, I think it is according to all experience that we +should first affirm the principle that the expenditure is too +large. If that be done by the meeting, then I will proceed +to the selection of the separate items. Now, in rising to +support this resolution, I may state at once that I have scarcely +any expectation of its being carried, and I am happy to think it +will not. Indeed, I consider it the strongest point of the +resolution’s case that it should not be carried, because it +will show the determination of the fund’s managers. +Nothing can possibly be stronger in favour of the resolution than +that the statement should go forth to the world that twice within +twelve months the attention of the committee has been called to +this great expenditure, and twice the committee have considered +that it was not unreasonable. I cannot conceive a stronger +case for the resolution than this statement of fact as to the +expenditure going forth to the public accompanied by the +committee’s assertion that it is reasonable. Now, to +separate this question from details, let us remember what the +committee and their supporters asserted last year, and, I hope, +will re-assert this year. It seems to be rather the model +kind of thing than otherwise now that if you get £100 you +are to spend £40 in management; and if you get £1000, +of course you may spend £400 in giving the rest away. +Now, in case there should be any ill-conditioned people here who +may ask what occasion there can be for all this expenditure, I +will give you my experience. I went last year to a highly +respectable place of resort, Willis’s Rooms, in St. +James’s, to a meeting of this fund. My original +intention was to hear all I could, and say as little as +possible. Allowing for the absence of the younger and +fairer portion of the creation, the general appearance of the +place was something like Almack’s in the morning. A +number of stately old dowagers sat in a row on one side, and old +gentlemen on the other. The ball was opened with due +solemnity by a real marquis, who walked a minuet with the +secretary, at which the audience were much affected. Then +another party advanced, who, I am sorry to say, was only a member +of the House of Commons, and he took possession of the +floor. To him, however, succeeded a lord, then a bishop, +then the son of a distinguished lord, then one or two celebrities +from the City and Stock Exchange, and at last a gentleman, who +made a fortune by the success of “Candide,” sustained +the part of Pangloss, and spoke much of what he evidently +believed to be the very best management of this best of all +possible funds. Now it is in this fondness for being +stupendously genteel, and keeping up fine appearances—this +vulgar and common social vice of hanging on to great connexions +at any price, that the money goes. The last time you got a +distinguished writer at a public meeting, and he was called on to +address you somewhere amongst the small hours, he told you he +felt like the man in plush who was permitted to sweep the stage +down after all the other people had gone. If the founder of +this society were here, I should think he would feel like a sort +of Rip van Winkle reversed, who had gone to sleep backwards for a +hundred years and woke up to find his fund still lying under the +feet of people who did nothing for it instead of being +emancipated and standing alone long ago. This Bloomsbury +house is another part of the same desire for show, and the +officer who inhabits it. (I mean, of course, in his +official capacity, for, as an individual, I much respect +him.) When one enters the house it appears to be haunted by +a series of mysterious-looking ghosts, who glide about engaged in +some extraordinary occupation, and, after the approved fashion of +ghosts, but seldom condescend to disclose their business. +What are all these meetings and inquiries wanted for? As +for the authors, I say, as a writer by profession, that the long +inquiry said to be necessary to ascertain whether an applicant +deserves relief, is a preposterous pretence, and that working +literary men would have a far better knowledge of the cases +coming before the board than can ever be attained by that +committee. Further, I say openly and plainly, that this +fund is pompously and unnaturally administered at great expense, +instead of being quietly administered at small expense; and that +the secrecy to which it lays claim as its greatest attribute, is +not kept; for through those “two respectable +householders,” to whom reference must be made, the names of +the most deserving applicants are to numbers of people perfectly +well known. The members have now got before them a plain +statement of fact as to these charges; and it is for them to say +whether they are justifiable, becoming, or decent. I beg +most earnestly and respectfully to put it to those gentlemen who +belong to this institution, that must now decide, and cannot help +deciding, what the Literary Fund is for, and what it is not +for. The question raised by the resolution is whether this +is a public corporation for the relief of men of genius and +learning, or whether it is a snug, traditional, and conventional +party, bent upon maintaining its own usages with a vast amount of +pride; upon its own annual puffery at costly dinner-tables, and +upon a course of expensive toadying to a number of distinguished +individuals. This is the question which you cannot this day +escape.</p> +<h2><a name="page290"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +290</span>XLIX.<br /> +LONDON, NOVEMBER 5, 1857.</h2> +<p class="gutsumm">[At the fourth anniversary dinner of the +Warehousemen and Clerks Schools, which took place on Thursday +evening, Nov. 5th, 1857, at the London Tavern, and was very +numerously attended, Mr. Charles Dickens occupied the +chair. On the subject which had brought the company +together Mr. Dickens spoke as follows:—]</p> +<p>I <span class="smcap">must</span> now solicit your attention +for a few minutes to the cause of your assembling +together—the main and real object of this evening’s +gathering; for I suppose we are all agreed that the motto of +these tables is not “Let us eat and drink, for to-morrow we +die;” but, “Let us eat and drink, for to-morrow we +live.” It is because a great and good work is to live +to-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow, and to live a greater +and better life with every succeeding to-morrow, that we eat and +drink here at all. Conspicuous on the card of admission to +this dinner is the word “Schools.” This set me +thinking this morning what are the sorts of schools that I +don’t like. I found them on consideration, to be +rather numerous. I don’t like to begin with, and to +begin as charity does at home—I don’t like the sort +of school to which I once went myself—the respected +proprietor of which was by far the most ignorant man I have ever +had the pleasure to know; one of the worst-tempered men perhaps +that ever lived, whose business it was to make as much out of us +and put as little into us as possible, and who sold us at a +figure which I remember we used to delight to estimate, as +amounting to exactly £2 4s. 6d. per head. I +don’t like that sort of school, because I don’t see +what business the master had to be at the top of it instead of +the bottom, and because I never could understand the +wholesomeness of the moral preached by the abject appearance and +degraded condition of the teachers who plainly said to us by +their looks every day of their lives, “Boys, never be +learned; whatever you are, above all things be warned from that +in time by our sunken cheeks, by our poor pimply noses, by our +meagre diet, by our acid-beer, and by our extraordinary suits of +clothes, of which no human being can say whether they are +snuff-coloured turned black, or black turned snuff-coloured, a +point upon which we ourselves are perfectly unable to offer any +ray of enlightenment, it is so very long since they were undarned +and new.” I do not like that sort of school, because +I have never yet lost my ancient suspicion touching that curious +coincidence that the boy with four brothers to come always got +the prizes. In fact, and short, I do not like that sort of +school, which is a pernicious and abominable humbug, +altogether. Again, ladies and gentlemen, I don’t like +that sort of school—a ladies’ school—with which +the other school used to dance on Wednesdays, where the young +ladies, as I look back upon them now, seem to me always to have +been in new stays and disgrace—the latter concerning a +place of which I know nothing at this day, that bounds Timbuctoo +on the north-east—and where memory always depicts the +youthful enthraller of my first affection as for ever standing +against a wall, in a curious machine of wood, which confined her +innocent feet in the first dancing position, while those arms, +which should have encircled my jacket, those precious arms, I +say, were pinioned behind her by an instrument of torture called +a backboard, fixed in the manner of a double direction +post. Again, I don’t like that sort of school, of +which we have a notable example in Kent, which was established +ages ago by worthy scholars and good men long deceased, whose +munificent endowments have been monstrously perverted from their +original purpose, and which, in their distorted condition, are +struggled for and fought over with the most indecent +pertinacity. Again, I don’t like that sort of +school—and I have seen a great many such in these latter +times—where the bright childish imagination is utterly +discouraged, and where those bright childish faces, which it is +so very good for the wisest among us to remember in after +life—when the world is too much with us, early and late <a +name="citation292"></a><a href="#footnote292" +class="citation">[292]</a>—are gloomily and grimly scared +out of countenance; where I have never seen among the pupils, +whether boys or girls, anything but little parrots and small +calculating machines. Again, I don’t by any means +like schools in leather breeches, and with mortified straw +baskets for bonnets, which file along the streets in long +melancholy rows under the escort of that surprising British +monster—a beadle, whose system of instruction, I am afraid, +too often presents that happy union of sound with sense, of which +a very remarkable instance is given in a grave report of a +trustworthy school inspector, to the effect that a boy in great +repute at school for his learning, presented on his slate, as one +of the ten commandments, the perplexing prohibition, “Thou +shalt not commit doldrum.” Ladies and gentlemen, I +confess, also, that I don’t like those schools, even though +the instruction given in them be gratuitous, where those sweet +little voices which ought to be heard speaking in very different +accents, anathematise by rote any human being who does not hold +what is taught there. Lastly, I do not like, and I did not +like some years ago, cheap distant schools, where neglected +children pine from year to year under an amount of neglect, want, +and youthful misery far too sad even to be glanced at in this +cheerful assembly.</p> +<p>And now, ladies and gentlemen, perhaps you will permit me to +sketch in a few words the sort of school that I do like. It +is a school established by the members of an industrious and +useful order, which supplies the comforts and graces of life at +every familiar turning in the road of our existence; it is a +school established by them for the Orphan and Necessitous +Children of their own brethren and sisterhood; it is a place +giving an education worthy of them—an education by them +invented, by them conducted, by them watched over; it is a place +of education where, while the beautiful history of the Christian +religion is daily taught, and while the life of that Divine +Teacher who Himself took little children on His knees is daily +studied, no sectarian ill-will nor narrow human dogma is +permitted to darken the face of the clear heaven which they +disclose. It is a children’s school, which is at the +same time no less a children’s home, a home not to be +confided to the care of cold or ignorant strangers, nor, by the +nature of its foundation, in the course of ages to pass into +hands that have as much natural right to deal with it as with the +peaks of the highest mountains or with the depths of the sea, but +to be from generation to generation administered by men living in +precisely such homes as those poor children have lost; by men +always bent upon making that replacement, such a home as their +own dear children might find a happy refuge in if they themselves +were taken early away. And I fearlessly ask you, is this a +design which has any claim to your sympathy? Is this a sort +of school which is deserving of your support?</p> +<p>This is the design, this is the school, whose strong and +simple claim I have to lay before you to-night. I must +particularly entreat you not to suppose that my fancy and +unfortunate habit of fiction has anything to do with the picture +I have just presented to you. It is sober matter of +fact. The Warehousemen and Clerks’ Schools, +established for the maintaining, clothing, and educating of the +Orphan and Necessitous Children of those employed in the +wholesale trades and manufactures of the United Kingdom, are, in +fact, what I have just described. These schools for both +sexes were originated only four years ago. In the first six +weeks of the undertaking the young men of themselves and quite +unaided, subscribed the large sum of £3,000. The +schools have been opened only three years, they have now on their +foundation thirty-nine children, and in a few days they will have +six more, making a total of forty-five. They have been most +munificently assisted by the heads of great mercantile houses, +numerously represented, I am happy to say, around me, and they +have a funded capital of almost £14,000. This is +wonderful progress, but the aim must still be upwards, the motto +always “Excelsior.” You do not need to be told +that five-and-forty children can form but a very small proportion +of the Orphan and Necessitous Children of those who have been +entrusted with the wholesale trades and manufactures of the +United Kingdom: you do not require to be informed that the house +at New-cross, rented for a small term of years, in which the +schools are at present established, can afford but most imperfect +accommodation for such a breadth of design. To carry this +good work through the two remaining degrees of better and best +there must be more work, more co-operation, more friends, more +money. Then be the friends and give the money. Before +I conclude, there is one other feature in these schools which I +would commend to your special attention and approval. Their +benefits are reserved for the children of subscribers; that is to +say, it is an essential principle of the institution that it must +help those whose parents have helped them, and that the +unfortunate children whose father has been so lax, or so +criminal, as to withhold a subscription so exceedingly small that +when divided by weeks it amounts to only threepence weekly, +cannot, in justice, be allowed to jostle out and shoulder away +the happier children, whose father has had that little +forethought, or done that little kindness which was requisite to +secure for them the benefits of the institution. I really +cannot believe that there will long be any such defaulting +parents. I cannot believe that any of the intelligent young +men who are engaged in the wholesale houses will long neglect +this obvious, this easy duty. If they suppose that the +objects of their love, born or unborn, will never want the +benefits of the charity, that may be a fatal and blind +mistake—it can never be an excuse, for, supposing them to +be right in their anticipation, they should do what is asked for +the sake of their friends and comrades around them, assured that +they will be the happier and the better for the deed.</p> +<p>Ladies and gentlemen, this little “labour of love” +of mine is now done. I most heartily wish that I could +charm you now not to see me, not to think of me, not to hear +me—I most heartily wish that I could make you see in my +stead the multitude of innocent and bereaved children who are +looking towards these schools, and entreating with uplifted hands +to be let in. A very famous advocate once said, in speaking +of his fears of failure when he had first to speak in court, +being very poor, that he felt his little children tugging at his +skirts, and that recovered him. Will you think of the +number of little children who are tugging at my skirts, when I +ask you, in their names, on their behalf, and in their little +persons, and in no strength of my own, to encourage and assist +this work?</p> + +<div class="gapshortline"> </div> +<p>At a later period of the evening Mr. Dickens proposed the +health of the President of the Institution, Lord John +Russell. He said he should do nothing so superfluous and so +unnecessary as to descant upon his lordship’s many +faithful, long, and great public services, upon the honour and +integrity with which he had pursued his straightforward public +course through every difficulty, or upon the manly, gallant, and +courageous character, which rendered him certain, in the eyes +alike of friends and opponents, to rise with every rising +occasion, and which, like the seal of Solomon, in the old Arabian +story, enclosed in a not very large casket the soul of a +giant. In answer to loud cheers, he said he had felt +perfectly certain, that that would be the response for in no +English assembly that he had ever seen was it necessary to do +more than mention the name of Lord John Russell to ensure a +manifestation of personal respect and grateful remembrance.</p> +<h2><a name="page297"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +297</span>L.<br /> +LONDON, MAY 8, 1858.</h2> +<p class="gutsumm">[The forty-eighth Anniversary of the +establishment of the Artists’ Benevolent Fund took place on +the above date at the Freemasons’ Tavern. The chair +was taken by Mr. Charles Dickens, who, after having disposed of +the preliminary toasts with his usual felicity, proceeded to +advocate the claims of the Institution in whose interest the +company had assembled, in the following terms:—]</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Ladies and gentlemen</span>,—There +is an absurd theatrical story which was once told to me by a dear +and valued friend, who has now passed from this sublunary stage, +and which is not without its moral as applied to myself, in my +present presidential position. In a certain theatrical +company was included a man, who on occasions of emergency was +capable of taking part in the whole round of the British drama, +provided he was allowed to use his own language in getting +through the dialogue. It happened one night that Reginald, +in the <i>Castle Spectre</i>, was taken ill, and this veteran of +a hundred characters was, of course, called up for the vacant +part. He responded with his usual promptitude, although +knowing nothing whatever of the character, but while they were +getting him into the dress, he expressed a not unreasonable wish +to know in some vague way what the part was about. He was +not particular as to details, but in order that he might properly +pourtray his sufferings, he thought he should have some slight +inkling as to what really had happened to him. As, for +example, what murders he had committed, whose father he was, of +what misfortunes he was the victim,—in short, in a general +way to know why he was in that place at all. They said to +him, “Here you are, chained in a dungeon, an unhappy +father; you have been here for seventeen years, during which time +you have never seen your daughter; you have lived upon bread and +water, and, in consequence, are extremely weak, and suffer from +occasional lowness of spirits.”—“All +right,” said the actor of universal capabilities, +“ring up.” When he was discovered to the +audience, he presented an extremely miserable appearance, was +very favourably received, and gave every sign of going on well, +until, through some mental confusion as to his instructions, he +opened the business of the act by stating in pathetic terms, that +he had been confined in that dungeon seventeen years, during +which time he had not tasted a morsel of food, to which +circumstance he was inclined to attribute the fact of his being +at that moment very much out of condition. The audience, +thinking this statement exceedingly improbable, declined to +receive it, and the weight of that speech hung round him until +the end of his performance.</p> +<p>Now I, too, have received instructions for the part I have the +honour of performing before you, and it behoves both you and me +to profit by the terrible warning I have detailed, while I +endeavour to make the part I have undertaken as plain and +intelligible as I possibly can.</p> +<p>As I am going to propose to you that we should now begin to +connect the business with the pleasure of the evening, by +drinking prosperity to the Artists’ Benevolent Fund, it +becomes important that we should know what that fund is. It +is an Association supported by the voluntary gifts of those who +entertain a critical and admiring estimation of art, and has for +its object the granting of annuities to the widows and children +of deceased artists—of artists who have been unable in +their lives to make any provision for those dear objects of their +love surviving themselves. Now it is extremely important to +observe that this institution of an Artists’ Benevolent +Fund, which I now call on you to pledge, has connected with it, +and has arisen out of another artists’ association, which +does not ask you for a health, which never did, and never will +ask you for a health, which is self-supporting, and which is +entirely maintained by the prudence and providence of its three +hundred artist members. That fund, which is called the +Artists’ Annuity Fund, is, so to speak, a joint and mutual +Assurance Company against infirmity, sickness, and age. To +the benefits it affords every one of its members has an absolute +right, a right, be it remembered, produced by timely thrift and +self-denial, and not assisted by appeals to the charity or +compassion of any human being. On that fund there are, if I +remember a right, some seventeen annuitants who are in the +receipt of eleven hundred a-year, the proceeds of their own +self-supporting Institution. In recommending to you this +benevolent fund, which is not self-supporting, they address you, +in effect, in these words:—“We ask you to help these +widows and orphans, because we show you we have first helped +ourselves. These widows and orphans may be ours or they may +not be ours; but in any case we will prove to you to a certainty +that we are not so many wagoners calling upon Jupiter to do our +work, because we do our own work; each has his shoulder to the +wheel; each, from year to year, has had his shoulder set to the +wheel, and the prayer we make to Jupiter and all the gods is +simply this—that this fact may be remembered when the wagon +has stopped for ever, and the spent and worn-out wagoner lies +lifeless by the roadside.</p> +<p>“Ladies and Gentlemen, I most particularly wish to +impress on you the strength of this appeal. I am a painter, +a sculptor, or an engraver, of average success. I study and +work here for no immense return, while life and health, while +hand and eye are mine. I prudently belong to the Annuity +Fund, which in sickness, old age, and infirmity, preserves me +from want. I do my duty to those who are depending on me +while life remains; but when the grass grows above my grave there +is no provision for them any longer.”</p> +<p>This is the case with the Artists’ Benevolent Fund, and +in stating this I am only the mouthpiece of three hundred of the +trade, who in truth stands as independent before you as if they +were three hundred Cockers all regulated by the Gospel according +to themselves. There are in existence three artists’ +funds, which ought never to be mentioned without respect. I +am an officer of one of them, and can speak from knowledge; but +on this occasion I address myself to a case for which there is no +provision. I address you on behalf of those professors of +the fine arts who have made provision during life, and in +submitting to you their claims I am only advocating principles +which I myself have always maintained.</p> +<p>When I add that this Benevolent Fund makes no pretensions to +gentility, squanders no treasure in keeping up appearances, that +it considers that the money given for the widow and the orphan, +should really be held for the widow and the orphan, I think I +have exhausted the case, which I desire most strenuously to +commend to you.</p> +<p>Perhaps you will allow me to say one last word. I will +not consent to present to you the professors of Art as a set of +helpless babies, who are to be held up by the chin; I present +them as an energetic and persevering class of men, whose incomes +depend on their own faculties and personal exertions; and I also +make so bold as to present them as men who in their vocation +render good service to the community. I am strongly +disposed to believe there are very few debates in Parliament so +important to the public welfare as a really good picture. I +have also a notion that any number of bundles of the driest legal +chaff that ever was chopped would be cheaply expended for one +really meritorious engraving. At a highly interesting +annual festival at which I have the honour to assist, and which +takes place behind two fountains, I sometimes observe that great +ministers of state and other such exalted characters have a +strange delight in rather ostentatiously declaring that they have +no knowledge whatever of art, and particularly of impressing on +the company that they have passed their lives in severe +studies. It strikes me when I hear these things as if these +great men looked upon the arts as a sort of dancing dogs, or +Punch’s show, to be turned to for amusement when one has +nothing else to do. Now I always take the opportunity on +these occasions of entertaining my humble opinion that all this +is complete “bosh;” and of asserting to myself my +strong belief that the neighbourhoods of Trafalgar Square, or +Suffolk Street, rightly understood, are quite as important to the +welfare of the empire as those of Downing Street, or Westminster +Hall. Ladies and Gentlemen, on these grounds, and backed by +the recommendation of three hundred artists in favour of the +Benevolent Fund, I beg to propose its prosperity as a toast for +your adoption.</p> +<h2><a name="page302"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +302</span>LI.<br /> +THE FAREWELL READING.<br /> +ST. JAMES’S HALL, MARCH 15, 1870.</h2> +<p class="gutsumm">[With the “Christmas Carol” and +“The Trial from Pickwick,” Mr. Charles Dickens +brought to a brilliant close the memorable series of public +readings which have for sixteen years proved to audiences +unexampled in numbers, the source of the highest intellectual +enjoyment. Every portion of available space in the building +was, of course, last night occupied some time before the +appointed hour; but could the St. James’s Hall have been +specially enlarged for the occasion to the dimensions of +Salisbury Plain, it is doubtful whether sufficient room would +even then have been provided for all anxious to seize the last +chance of hearing the distinguished novelist give his own +interpretation of the characters called into existence by his own +creative pen. As if determined to convince his auditors +that, whatever reason had influenced his determination, physical +exhaustion was not amongst them, Mr. Dickens never read with +greater spirit and energy. His voice to the last retained +its distinctive clearness, and the transitions of tone, as each +personage in the story, conjured up by a word, rose vividly +before the eye, seemed to be more marvellous than ever. The +vast assemblage, hushed into breathless attention, suffered not a +syllable to escape the ear, and the rich humour and deep pathos +of one of the most delightful books ever written found once again +the fullest appreciation. The usual burst of merriment +responsive to the blithe description of Bob Cratchit’s +Christmas day, and the wonted sympathy with the crippled child +“Tiny Tim,” found prompt expression, and the general +delight at hearing of Ebenezer Scrooge’s reformation was +only checked by the saddening remembrance that with it the last +strain of the “carol” was dying away. After the +“Trial from Pickwick,” in which the speeches of the +opposing counsel, and the owlish gravity of the judge, seemed to +be delivered and depicted with greater dramatic power than ever, +the applause of the audience rang for several minutes through the +hall, and when it had subsided, Mr. Dickens, with evidently +strong emotion, but in his usual distinct and expressive manner, +spoke as follows:—]</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Ladies and gentlemen</span>,—It +would be worse than idle—for it would be hypocritical and +unfeeling—if I were to disguise that I close this episode +in my life with feelings of very considerable pain. For +some fifteen years, in this hall and in many kindred places, I +have had the honour of presenting my own cherished ideas before +you for your recognition, and, in closely observing your +reception of them, have enjoyed an amount of artistic delight and +instruction which, perhaps, is given to few men to know. In +this task, and in every other I have ever undertaken, as a +faithful servant of the public, always imbued with a sense of +duty to them, and always striving to do his best, I have been +uniformly cheered by the readiest response, the most generous +sympathy, and the most stimulating support. Nevertheless, I +have thought it well, at the full flood-tide of your favour, to +retire upon those older associations between us, which date from +much further back than these, and henceforth to devote myself +exclusively to the art that first brought us together. +Ladies and gentlemen, in but two short weeks from this time I +hope that you may enter, in your own homes, on a new series of +readings, at which my assistance will be indispensable; <a +name="citation303"></a><a href="#footnote303" +class="citation">[303]</a> but from these garish lights I vanish +now for evermore, with a heartfelt, grateful, respectful, and +affectionate farewell.</p> +<p>[Amidst repeated acclamations of the most enthusiastic +description, whilst hats and handkerchiefs were waving in every +part of the hall, Mr. Charles Dickens retired, withdrawing with +him one of the greatest intellectual treats the public ever +enjoyed.]</p> +<h2><a name="page304"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +304</span>LII.<br /> +THE NEWSVENDORS’ INSTITUTION.<br /> +LONDON, APRIL 5, 1870.</h2> +<p class="gutsumm">[The annual dinner in aid of the funds of the +Newsvendors’ Benevolent and Provident Institution was held +on the above evening, at the Freemason’s Tavern. Mr. +Charles Dickens presided, and was supported by the Sheriffs of +the City of London and Middlesex.</p> +<p class="gutsumm">After the usual toasts had been given and +responded to,</p> +<p class="gutsumm">The Chairman said that if the approved order +of their proceedings had been observed, the Corporation of the +City of London would no doubt have considered themselves snubbed +if they were not toasted by themselves. He was sure that a +distinguished member of the Corporation who was present would +tell the company what the Corporation were going to do; and he +had not the slightest doubt they were going to do something +highly creditable to themselves, and something highly serviceable +to the whole metropolis; and if the secret were not at present +locked up in the blue chamber, they would be all deeply obliged +to the gentleman who would immediately follow him, if he let them +into it in the same confidence as he had observed with respect to +the Corporation of the City of London being snubbed. He +begged to give the toast of “The Corporation of the City of +London.”</p> +<p class="gutsumm">Mr. Alderman Cotton, in replying to the toast, +said for once, and once only, had their chairman said an unkind +word about the Corporation of London. He had always +reckoned Mr. Dickens to be one of the warmest friends of the +Corporation; and remembering that he (Mr. Dickens) did really go +through a Lord Mayor’s Show in a Lord Mayor’s +carriage, if he had not felt himself quite a Lord Mayor, he must +have at least considered himself next to one.</p> +<p class="gutsumm">In proposing the toast of the evening Mr. +Dickens said:—]</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Ladies and gentlemen</span>,—You +receive me with so much cordiality that I fear you believe that I +really did once sit in a Lord Mayor’s state coach. +Permit me to assure you, in spite of the information received +from Mr. Alderman Cotton, that I never had that honour. +Furthermore, I beg to assure you that I never witnessed a Lord +Mayor’s show except from the point of view obtained by the +other vagabonds upon the pavement. Now, ladies and +gentlemen, in spite of this great cordiality of yours, I doubt if +you fully know yet what a blessing it is to you that I occupy +this chair to-night, because, having filled it on several +previous occasions for the society on whose behalf we are +assembled, and having said everything that I could think of to +say about it, and being, moreover, the president of the +institution itself, I am placed to-night in the modest position +of a host who is not so much to display himself as to call out +his guests—perhaps even to try to induce some among them to +occupy his place on another occasion. And, therefore, you +may be safely sure that, like Falstaff, but with a modification +almost as large as himself, I shall try rather to be the cause of +speaking in others than to speak myself to-night. Much in +this manner they exhibit at the door of a snuff shop the effigy +of a Highlander with an empty mull in his hand, who, having +apparently taken all the snuff he can carry, and discharged all +the sneezes of which he is capable, politely invites his friends +and patrons to step in and try what they can do in the same +line.</p> +<p>It is an appropriate instance of the universality of the +newsman’s calling that no toast we have drunk +to-night—and no toast we shall drink to-night—and no +toast we might, could, should, or would drink to-night, is +separable for a moment from that great inclusion of all possible +subjects of human interest which he delivers at our doors every +day. Further, it may be worthy the consideration of +everybody here who has talked cheerfully to his or her neighbour +since we have sat down at the table, what in the name of Heaven +should we have talked about, and how on earth could we have +possibly got on, if our newsman had only for one single day +forgotten us. Now, ladies and gentlemen, as our newsman is +not by any means in the habit of forgetting us, let us try to +form a little habit of not forgetting our newsman. Let us +remember that his work is very arduous; that it occupies him +early and late; that the profits he derives from us are at the +best very small; that the services he renders to us are very +great; that if he be a master, his little capital is exposed to +all sorts of mischances, anxieties, and hazards; and if he be a +journeyman, he himself is exposed to all manner of weathers, of +tempers, and of difficult and unreasonable requirements.</p> +<p>Let me illustrate this. I was once present at a social +discussion, which originated by chance. The subject was, +What was the most absorbing and longest-lived passion in the +human breast? What was the passion so powerful that it +would almost induce the generous to be mean, the careless to be +cautious, the guileless to be deeply designing, and the dove to +emulate the serpent? A daily editor of vast experience and +great acuteness, who was one of the company, considerably +surprised us by saying with the greatest confidence that the +passion in question was the passion of getting orders for the +play.</p> +<p>There had recently been a terrible shipwreck, and very few of +the surviving sailors had escaped in an open boat. One of +these on making land came straight to London, and straight to the +newspaper office, with his story of how he had seen the ship go +down before his eyes. That young man had witnessed the most +terrible contention between the powers of fire and water for the +destruction of that ship and of every one on board. He had +rowed away among the floating, dying, and the sinking dead. +He had floated by day, and he had frozen by night, with no +shelter and no food, and, as he told his dismal tale, he rolled +his haggard eyes about the room. When he had finished, and +the tale had been noted down from his lips, he was cheered and +refreshed, and soothed, and asked if anything could be done for +him. Even within him that master passion was so strong that +he immediately replied he should like an order for the +play. My friend the editor certainly thought that was +rather a strong case; but he said that during his many years of +experience he had witnessed an incurable amount of +self-prostration and abasement having no outer object, and that +almost invariably on the part of people who could well afford to +pay.</p> +<p>This made a great impression on my mind, and I really lived in +this faith until some years ago it happened upon a stormy night I +was kindly escorted from a bleak railway station to the little +out-of-the-way town it represented by a sprightly and vivacious +newsman, to whom I propounded, as we went along under my +umbrella—he being most excellent company—this old +question, what was the one all-absorbing passion of the human +soul? He replied, without the slightest hesitation, that it +certainly was the passion for getting your newspaper in advance +of your fellow-creatures; also, if you only hired it, to get it +delivered at your own door at exactly the same time as another +man who hired the same copy four miles off; and, finally, the +invincible determination on the part of both men not to believe +the time was up when the boy called.</p> +<p>Ladies and gentlemen, I have not had an opportunity of +verifying this experience with my friends of the managing +committee, but I have no doubt from its reception to-night that +my friend the newsman was perfectly right. Well, as a sort +of beacon in a sufficiently dark life, and as an assurance that +among a little body of working men there is a feeling of +brotherhood and sympathy—which is worth much to all men, or +they would herd with wolves—the newsvendors once upon a +time established the Benevolent and Provident Institution, and +here it is. Under the Provident head, certain small +annuities are granted to old and hard-working subscribers. +Under the Benevolent head, relief is afforded to temporary and +proved distress. Under both heads, I am bound to say the +help rendered is very humble and very sparing, but if you like it +to be handsomer you have it in your power to make it so. +Such as it is, it is most gratefully received, and does a deal of +good. Such as it is, it is most discreetly and feelingly +administered; and it is encumbered with no wasteful charges for +management or patronage.</p> +<p>You know upon an old authority, that you may believe anything +except facts and figures, but you really may believe that during +the last year we have granted £100 in pensions, and some +£70 in temporary relief, and we have invested in Government +securities some £400. But, touching this matter of +investments, it was suggested at the anniversary dinner, on the +high and kind authority of Sir Benjamin Phillips that we might +grant more pensions and invest less money. We urged, on the +other hand, that we wished our pensions to be certain and +unchangeable—which of course they must be if they are +always paid out of our Government interest and never out of our +capital. However, so amiable is our nature, that we profess +our desire to grant more pensions and to invest more money +too. The more you give us to-night again, so amiable is our +nature, the more we promise to do in both departments. That +the newsman’s work has greatly increased, and that it is +far more wearing and tearing than it used to be, you may infer +from one fact, not to mention that we live in railway +times. It is stated in Mitchell’s “Newspaper +Press Directory,” that during the last quarter of a century +the number of newspapers which appeared in London had more than +doubled, while the increase in the number of people among whom +they were disseminated was probably beyond calculation.</p> +<p>Ladies and gentlemen, I have stated the newsman’s simple +case. I leave it in your hands. Within the last year +the institution has had the good fortune to attract the sympathy +and gain the support of the eminent man of letters I am proud to +call my friend, <a name="citation309"></a><a href="#footnote309" +class="citation">[309]</a> who now represents the great Republic +of America at the British Court. Also it has the honour of +enrolling upon its list of donors and vice-presidents the great +name of Longfellow. I beg to propose to you to drink +“Prosperity to the Newsvendors’ Benevolent and +Provident Institution.”</p> +<h2><a name="page310"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +310</span>LIII.<br /> +MACREADY.<br /> +LONDON, MARCH 1, 1851.</h2> +<p class="gutsumm">[On the evening of the above day the friends +and admirers of Mr. Macready entertained him at a public +dinner. Upwards of six hundred gentlemen assembled to do +honour to the great actor on his retirement from the stage. +Sir E. B. Lytton took the chair. Among the other speakers +were Baron Bunsen, Sir Charles Eastlake, Mr. Thackeray, Mr. John +Forster, Mr. W. J. Fox, and Mr. Charles Dickens, who proposed +“The Health of the Chairman” in the following +words:—]</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Gentlemen</span>,—After all you have +already heard, and so rapturously received, I assure you that not +even the warmth of your kind welcome would embolden me to hope to +interest you if I had not full confidence in the subject I have +to offer to your notice. But my reliance on the strength of +this appeal to you is so strong that I am rather encouraged than +daunted by the brightness of the track on which I have to throw +my little shadow.</p> +<p>Gentlemen, as it seems to me, there are three great requisites +essential to the perfect realisation of a scene so unusual and so +splendid as that in which we are now assembled. The first, +and I must say very difficult requisite, is a man possessing the +stronghold in the general remembrance, the indisputable claim on +the general regard and esteem, which is possessed by my dear and +much valued friend our guest. The second requisite is the +presence of a body of entertainers,—a great multitude of +hosts so cheerful and good-humoured (under, I am sorry to say, +some personal inconvenience),—so warm-hearted and so nobly +in earnest, as those whom I have the privilege of +addressing. The third, and certainly not the least of these +requisites, is a president who, less by his social position, +which he may claim by inheritance, or by fortune, which may have +been adventitiously won, and may be again accidentally lost, than +by his comprehensive genius, shall fitly represent the best part +of him to whom honour is done, and the best part of those who +unite in the doing of it. Such a president I think we have +found in our chairman of to-night, and I need scarcely add that +our chairman’s health is the toast I have to propose to +you.</p> +<p>Many of those who now hear me were present, I daresay, at that +memorable scene on Wednesday night last, <a +name="citation311"></a><a href="#footnote311" +class="citation">[311]</a> when the great vision which had been a +delight and a lesson,—very often, I daresay, a support and +a comfort to you, which had for many years improved and charmed +us, and to which we had looked for an elevated relief from the +labours of our lives, faded from our sight for ever. I will +not stop to inquire whether our guest may or may not have looked +backward, through rather too long a period for us, to some remote +and distant time when he might possibly bear some far-off +likeness to a certain Spanish archbishop whom Gil Blas once +served. Nor will I stop to inquire whether it was a +reasonable disposition in the audience of Wednesday to seize upon +the words—</p> + +<blockquote><p> “And +I have brought,<br /> +Golden opinions from all sorts of people,<br /> +Which would be worn now in their newest gloss,<br /> +Not cast aside so soon—” <a name="citation312"></a><a +href="#footnote312" class="citation">[312]</a></p> +</blockquote> +<p>but I will venture to intimate to those whom I am addressing +how in my mind I mainly connect that occasion with the +present. When I looked round on the vast assemblage, and +observed the huge pit hushed into stillness on the rising of the +curtain, and that mighty surging gallery, where men in their +shirt-sleeves had been striking out their arms like strong +swimmers—when I saw that boisterous human flood become +still water in a moment, and remain so from the opening to the +end of the play, it suggested to me something besides the +trustworthiness of an English crowd, and the delusion under which +those labour who are apt to disparage and malign it: it suggested +to me that in meeting here to-night we undertook to represent +something of the all-pervading feeling of that crowd, through all +its intermediate degrees, from the full-dressed lady, with her +diamonds sparkling upon her breast in the proscenium-box, to the +half-undressed gentleman; who bides his time to take some +refreshment in the back row of the gallery. And I consider, +gentlemen, that no one who could possibly be placed in this chair +could so well head that comprehensive representation, and could +so well give the crowning grace to our festivities, as one whose +comprehensive genius has in his various works embraced them all, +and who has, in his dramatic genius, enchanted and enthralled +them all at once.</p> +<p>Gentlemen, it is not for me here to recall, after what you +have heard this night, what I have seen and known in the bygone +times of Mr. Macready’s management, of the strong +friendship of Sir Bulwer Lytton for him, of the association of +his pen with his earliest successes, or of Mr. Macready’s +zealous and untiring services; but it may be permitted me to say +what, in any public mention of him I can never repress, that in +the path we both tread I have uniformly found him from the first +the most generous of men; quick to encourage, slow to disparage, +ever anxious to assert the order of which he is so great an +ornament; never condescending to shuffle it off, and leave it +outside state rooms, as a Mussulman might leave his slippers +outside a mosque.</p> +<p>There is a popular prejudice, a kind of superstition to the +effect that authors are not a particularly united body, that they +are not invariably and inseparably attached to each other. +I am afraid I must concede half-a-grain or so of truth I to that +superstition; but this I know, that there can hardly +be—that there hardly can have been—among the +followers of literature, a man of more high standing farther +above these little grudging jealousies, which do sometimes +disparage its brightness, than Sir Edward Bulwer Lytton.</p> +<p>And I have the strongest reason just at present to bear my +testimony to his great consideration for those evils which are +sometimes unfortunately attendant upon it, though not on +him. For, in conjunction with some other gentlemen now +present, I have just embarked in a design with Sir Bulwer Lytton, +to smoothe the rugged way of young labourers, both in literature +and the fine arts, and to soften, but by no eleemosynary means, +the declining years of meritorious age. And if that project +prosper as I hope it will, and as I know it ought, it will one +day be an honour to England where there is now a reproach; +originating in his sympathies, being brought into operation by +his activity, and endowed from its very cradle by his +generosity. There are many among you who will have each his +own favourite reason for drinking our chairman’s health, +resting his claim probably upon some of his diversified +successes. According to the nature of your reading, some of +you will connect him with prose, others will connect him with +poetry. One will connect him with comedy, and another with +the romantic passions of the stage, and his assertion of worthy +ambition and earnest struggle against</p> + +<blockquote><p> “those +twin gaolers of the human heart,<br /> +Low birth and iron fortune.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Again, another’s taste will lead him to the +contemplation of Rienzi and the streets of Rome; another’s +to the rebuilt and repeopled streets of Pompeii; another’s +to the touching history of the fireside where the Caxton family +learned how to discipline their natures and tame their wild hopes +down. But, however various their feelings and reasons may +be, I am sure that with one accord each will help the other, and +all will swell the greeting, with which I shall now propose to +you “The Health of our Chairman, Sir Edward Bulwer +Lytton.”</p> +<h2><a name="page315"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +315</span>LIV.<br /> +SANITARY REFORM.<br /> +LONDON, MAY 10, 1851.</h2> +<p class="gutsumm">[The members and friends of the Metropolitan +Sanitary Association dined together on the above evening at Gore +House, Kensington. The Earl of Carlisle occupied the +chair. Mr. Charles Dickens was present, and in proposing +“The Board of Health,” made the following +speech:—]</p> +<p><span class="smcap">There</span> are very few words for me to +say upon the needfulness of sanitary reform, or the consequent +usefulness of the Board of Health. That no man can estimate +the amount of mischief grown in dirt,—that no man can say +the evil stops here or stops there, either in its moral or +physical effects, or can deny that it begins in the cradle and is +not at rest in the miserable grave, is as certain as it is that +the air from Gin Lane will be carried by an easterly wind into +Mayfair, or that the furious pestilence raging in St. +Giles’s no mortal list of lady patronesses can keep out of +Almack’s. Fifteen years ago some of the valuable +reports of Mr. Chadwick and Dr. Southwood Smith, strengthening +and much enlarging my knowledge, made me earnest in this cause in +my own sphere; and I can honestly declare that the use I have +since that time made of my eyes and nose have only strengthened +the conviction that certain sanitary reforms must precede all +other social remedies, and that neither education nor religion +can do anything useful until the way has been paved for their +ministrations by cleanliness and decency.</p> +<p>I do not want authority for this opinion: you have heard the +speech of the right reverend prelate <a name="citation316"></a><a +href="#footnote316" class="citation">[316]</a> this +evening—a speech which no sanitary reformer can have heard +without emotion. Of what avail is it to send missionaries +to the miserable man condemned to work in a foetid court, with +every sense bestowed upon him for his health and happiness turned +into a torment, with every month of his life adding to the heap +of evils under which he is condemned to exist? What human +sympathy within him is that instructor to address? what natural +old chord within him is he to touch? Is it the remembrance +of his children?—a memory of destitution, of sickness, of +fever, and of scrofula? Is it his hopes, his latent hopes +of immortality? He is so surrounded by and embedded in +material filth, that his soul cannot rise to the contemplation of +the great truths of religion. Or if the case is that of a +miserable child bred and nurtured in some noisome, loathsome +place, and tempted, in these better days, into the ragged school, +what can a few hours’ teaching effect against the +ever-renewed lesson of a whole existence? But give them a +glimpse of heaven through a little of its light and air; give +them water; help them to be clean; lighten that heavy atmosphere +in which their spirits flag and in which they become the callous +things they are; take the body of the dead relative from the +close room in which the living live with it, and where death, +being familiar, loses its awe; and then they will be brought +willingly to hear of Him whose thoughts were so much with the +poor, and who had compassion for all human suffering.</p> +<p>The toast which I have to propose, The Board of Health, is +entitled to all the honour which can be conferred upon it. +We have very near us, in Kensington, a transparent illustration +that no very great thing can ever be accomplished without an +immense amount of abuse being heaped upon it. In connexion +with the Board of Health we are always hearing a very large word +which is always pronounced with a very great relish—the +word centralization. Now I submit that in the time of the +cholera we had a pretty good opportunity of judging between this +so called centralization and what I may, I think, call +“vestrylisation.” I dare say the company +present have read the reports of the Cholera Board of Health, and +I daresay they have also read reports of certain vestries. +I have the honour of belonging to a constituency which elected +that amazing body, the Marylebone vestry, and I think that if the +company present will look to what was done by the Board of Health +at Glasgow, and then contrast those proceedings with the +wonderful cleverness with which affairs were managed at the same +period by my vestry, there will be very little difficulty in +judging between them. My vestry even took upon itself to +deny the existence of cholera as a weak invention of the enemy, +and that denial had little or no effect in staying the progress +of the disease. We can now contrast what centralization is +as represented by a few noisy and interested gentlemen, and what +centralization is when worked out by a body combining business +habits, sound medical and social knowledge, and an earnest +sympathy with the sufferings of the working classes.</p> +<p>Another objection to the Board of Health is conveyed in a word +not so large as the other,—“Delay.” I +would suggest, in respect to this, that it would be very +unreasonable to complain that a first-rate chronometer +didn’t go when its master had not wound it up. The +Board of Health may be excellently adapted for going and very +willing and anxious to go, and yet may not be permitted to go by +reason of its lawful master having fallen into a gentle slumber +and forgotten to set it a going. One of the speakers this +evening has referred to Lord Castlereagh’s caution +“not to halloo until they were out of the +wood.” As regards the Board of Trade I would suggest +that they ought not to halloo until they are out of the Woods and +Forests. In that leafy region the Board of Health suffers +all sorts of delays, and this should always be borne in +mind. With the toast of the Board of Health I will couple +the name of a noble lord (Ashley), of whose earnestness in works +of benevolence, no man can doubt, and who has the courage on all +occasions to face the cant which is the worst and commonest of +all—the cant about the cant of philanthropy.</p> +<h2><a name="page319"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +319</span>LV.<br /> +GARDENING.<br /> +LONDON, JUNE 9, 1851.</h2> +<p class="gutsumm">[At the anniversary dinner of the +Gardeners’ Benevolent Institution, held under the +presidency of Mr., afterwards Sir Joseph Paxton, Mr. Charles +Dickens made the following speech:—]</p> +<p>I <span class="smcap">feel</span> an unbounded and delightful +interest in all the purposes and associations of gardening. +Probably there is no feeling in the human mind stronger than the +love of gardening. The prisoner will make a garden in his +prison, and cultivate his solitary flower in the chink of a +wall. The poor mechanic will string his scarlet bean from +one side of his window to the other, and watch it and tend it +with unceasing interest. It is a holy duty in foreign +countries to decorate the graves of the dead with flowers, and +here, too, the resting-places of those who have passed away from +us will soon be gardens. From that old time when the Lord +walked in the garden in the cool of the evening, down to the day +when a Poet-Laureate sang—</p> +<blockquote><p>“Trust me, Clara Vere de Vere,<br /> + From yon blue heaven above us bent<br /> +The gardener Adam and his wife<br /> + Smile at the claims of long descent,”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>at all times and in all ages gardens have been amongst the +objects of the greatest interest to mankind. There may be a +few, but I believe they are but a few, who take no interest in +the products of gardening, except perhaps in “London +Pride,” or a certain degenerate kind of +“Stock,” which is apt to grow hereabouts, cultivated +by a species of frozen-out gardeners whom no thaw can ever +penetrate: except these, the gardeners’ art has contributed +to the delight of all men in their time. That there ought +to be a Benevolent Provident Institution for gardeners is in the +fitness of things, and that such an institution ought to flourish +and does flourish is still more so.</p> +<p>I have risen to propose to you the health of a gentleman who +is a great gardener, and not only a great gardener but a great +man—the growth of a fine Saxon root cultivated up with a +power of intellect to a plant that is at this time the talk of +the civilized world—I allude, of course, to my friend the +chairman of the day. I took occasion to say at a public +assembly hard-by, a month or two ago, in speaking of that +wonderful building Mr. Paxton has designed for the Great +Exhibition in Hyde Park, that it ought to have fallen down, but +that it refused to do so. We were told that the glass ought +to have been all broken, the gutters all choked up, and the +building flooded, and that the roof and sides ought to have been +blown away; in short that everything ought to have done what +everything obstinately persisted in not doing. Earth, air, +fire, and water all appear to have conspired together in Mr. +Paxton’s favour—all have conspired together to one +result, which, when the present generation is dust, will be an +enduring temple to his honour, and to the energy, the talent, and +the resources of Englishmen.</p> +<p>“But,” said a gentleman to me the other day, +“no doubt Mr. Paxton is a great man, but there is one +objection to him that you can never get over, that is, he is a +gardener.” Now that is our case to-night, that he is +a gardener, and we are extremely proud of it. This is a +great age, with all its faults, when a man by the power of his +own genius and good sense can scale such a daring height as Mr. +Paxton has reached, and composedly place his form on the +top. This is a great age, when a man impressed with a +useful idea can carry out his project without being imprisoned, +or thumb-screwed, or persecuted in any form. I can well +understand that you, to whom the genius, the intelligence, the +industry, and the achievements of our friend are well known, +should be anxious to do him honour by placing him in the position +he occupies to-night; and I assure you, you have conferred great +gratification on one of his friends, in permitting him to have +the opportunity of proposing his health, which that friend now +does most cordially and with all the honours.</p> +<h2><a name="page322"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +322</span>LVI.<br /> +THE ROYAL ACADEMY DINNER.<br /> +LONDON, MAY 2, 1870.</h2> +<p class="gutsumm">[On the occasion of the Second Exhibition of +the Royal Academy in their new galleries in Piccadilly, the +President, Sir F. Grant, and the council gave their usual +inaugurative banquet, and a very distinguished company was +present. The dinner took place in the large central room, +and covers were laid for 200 guests. The Prince of Wales +acknowledged the toast of his health and that of the Princess, +the Duke of Cambridge responded to the toast of the army, Mr. +Childers to the navy, Lord Elcho to the volunteers, Mr. Motley to +“The Prosperity of the United States,” Mr. Gladstone +to “Her Majesty’s Ministers,” the Archbishop of +York to, “The Guests,” and Mr. Dickens to +“Literature.” The last toast having been +proposed in a highly eulogistic speech, Mr. Dickens +responded.]</p> +<p><span class="smcap">Mr. President</span>, your Royal +Highnesses, my Lords and Gentlemen,—I beg to acknowledge +the toast with which you have done me the great honour of +associating my name. I beg to acknowledge it on behalf of +the brotherhood of literature, present and absent, not forgetting +an illustrious wanderer from the fold, whose tardy return to it +we all hail with delight, and who now sits—or lately did +sit—within a few chairs of or on your left hand. I +hope I may also claim to acknowledge the toast on behalf of the +sisterhood of literature also, although that “better half +of human nature,” to which Mr. Gladstone rendered his +graceful tribute, is unworthily represented here, in the present +state of its rights and wrongs, by the devouring monster, +man.</p> +<p>All the arts, and many of the sciences, bear witness that +women, even in their present oppressed condition, can attain to +quite as great distinction, and can attain to quite as lofty +names as men. Their emancipation (as I am given to +understand) drawing very near, there is no saying how soon they +may “push us from our stools” at these tables, or how +soon our better half of human nature, standing in this place of +mine, may eloquently depreciate mankind, addressing another +better half of human nature sitting in the president’s +chair.</p> +<p>The literary visitors of the Royal Academy to-night desire me +to congratulate their hosts on a very interesting exhibition, in +which risen excellence supremely asserts itself, and from which +promise of a brilliant succession in time to come is not +wanting. They naturally see with especial interest the +writings and persons of great men—historians, philosophers, +poets, and novelists, vividly illustrated around them here. +And they hope that they may modestly claim to have rendered some +little assistance towards the production of many of the pictures +in this magnificent gallery. For without the patient +labours of some among them unhistoric history might have long +survived in this place, and but for the researches and wandering +of others among them, the most preposterous countries, the most +impossible peoples, and the absurdest superstitions, manners, and +customs, might have usurped the place of truth upon these +walls. Nay, there is no knowing, Sir Francis Grant, what +unlike portraits you yourself might have painted if you had been +left, with your sitters, to idle pens, unchecked reckless +rumours, and undenounced lying malevolence.</p> +<p>I cannot forbear, before I resume my seat, adverting to a sad +theme (the recent death of Daniel Maclise) to which his Royal +Highness the Prince of Wales made allusion, and to which the +president referred with the eloquence of genuine feeling. +Since I first entered the public lists, a very young man indeed, +it has been my constant fortune to number amongst my nearest and +dearest friends members of the Royal Academy who have been its +grace and pride. They have so dropped from my side one by +one that I already, begin to feel like the Spanish monk of whom +Wilkie tells, who had grown to believe that the only realities +around him were the pictures which he loved, and that all the +moving life he saw, or ever had seen, was a shadow and a +dream.</p> +<p>For many years I was one of the two most intimate friends and +most constant companions of the late Mr. Maclise. Of his +genius in his chosen art I will venture to say nothing here, but +of his prodigious fertility of mind and wonderful wealth of +intellect, I may confidently assert that they would have made +him, if he had been so minded, at least as great a writer as he +was a painter. The gentlest and most modest of men, the +freshest as to his generous appreciation of young aspirants, and +the frankest and largest-hearted as to his peers, incapable of a +sordid or ignoble thought, gallantly sustaining the true dignity +of his vocation, without one grain of self-ambition, wholesomely +natural at the last as at the first, “in wit a man, +simplicity a child,” no artist, of whatsoever denomination, +I make bold to say, ever went to his rest leaving a golden memory +more pure from dross, or having devoted himself with a truer +chivalry to the art goddess whom he worshipped.</p> +<p style="text-align: center">[These were the last public words +of Charles Dickens.]</p> +<h2><a name="page325"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +325</span>CHARLES DICKENS AS A LETTER-WRITER, AND AS A POET.</h2> +<h3>I.—AS A LETTER-WRITER.</h3> +<p><span class="smcap">In</span> the graceful but difficult art +of letter-writing Charles Dickens has proved himself as +accomplished a master as he has of public speaking, which the two +or three specimens given in our Introduction, together with the +following extracts from his correspondence with two distinguished +friends, Washington Irving and Douglas Jerrold, will sufficiently +show.</p> +<p>In the spring of 1841, some months before Mr. Dickens had +decided upon his first visit to the United States, Washington +Irving, who was then personally unknown to him, addressed him a +letter, full of warm sympathy and generous acknowledgment of his +genius, and of the pleasure Dickens’s writings had afforded +him. A few extracts from Mr. Dickens’s reply are +given below.</p> +<p>In February, 1842, Mr. Dickens had the gratification of making +the personal acquaintance of his illustrious correspondent, who +was induced to overcome his objection to public speaking, and to +take the chair at a banquet given in Dickens’s honour by +some of the citizens of New York. <a +name="page326"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 326</span>Irving, +however, entirely broke down in his speech, and could do little +more than propose the toast of the evening.</p> +<p>There were probably never two men of more congenial mind and +common sympathies than the author of the “Sketch +Book,” and the author of “Pickwick;” and it is +pleasant to think that the chance of things should have brought +them together for a time in so unexpected a way.</p> +<p>In Mr. Dickens’ reply he tells Washington Irving +that:—</p> +<blockquote><p>“There is no man in the world who could have +given me the heartfelt pleasure you have, by your kind note of +the 13th of last month. There is no living writer—and +there are very few among the dead—whose approbation I +should feel so proud to earn. And with everything you have +written upon my shelves, and in my thoughts, and in my heart of +hearts, I may honestly and truly say so. If you could know +how earnestly I write this, you would be glad to read it—as +I hope you will be, faintly guessing at the warmth of the hand I +autographically hold out to you over the broad Atlantic.</p> +<p>“I wish I could find in your welcome letter some hint of +an intention to visit England. I can’t. I have +held it at arm’s length, and taken a bird’s-eye view +of it, after reading it a great many times, but there is no +greater encouragement in it this way than on a microscopic +inspection. I should love to go with you—as I have +gone, God knows how often—into Little Britain, and +Eastcheap, and Green Arbour Court, and Westminster Abbey. I +should like to travel with you, outside the last of the coaches, +down to Bracebridge Hall. It would make my heart glad to +compare <a name="page327"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +327</span>notes with you about that shabby gentleman in the +oil-cloth hat, and red nose, who sat in the nine-cornered back +parlour of the <i>Mason’s Arms</i>; and about Robert +Preston, and the tallow-chandler’s widow, whose +sitting-room is second nature to me; and about all those +delightful places and people that I used to walk about and dream +of in the day-time, when a very small and not +over-particularly-taken-care-of boy. I have a good deal to +say, too, about that dashing Alonzo de Ojeda, that you +can’t help being fonder of than you ought to be; and much +to hear concerning Moorish legend, and poor, unhappy +Boabdil. Diedrich Knickerbocker I have worn to death in my +pocket, and yet I should show you his mutilated carcass with a +joy past all expression.</p> +<p>“I have been so accustomed to associate you with my +pleasantest and happiest thoughts, and with my leisure hours, +that I rush at once into full confidence with you, and fall, as +it were naturally, and by the very laws of gravity, into your +open arms. Questions come thronging to my pen as to the +lips of people who meet after long hoping to do so. I +don’t know what to say first, or what to leave unsaid, and +am constantly disposed to break off and tell you again how glad I +am this moment has arrived.</p> +<p>“My dear Washington Irving, I cannot thank you enough +for your cordial and generous praise, or tell you what deep and +lasting gratification it has given me. I hope to have many +letters from you, and to exchange a frequent +correspondence. I send this to say so. After the +first two or three, I shall settle down into a connected style, +and become gradually rational.</p> +<p>“You know what the feeling is, after having written a +letter, sealed it, and sent it off. I shall picture you +reading this, and answering it, before it has lain one night in +the <a name="page328"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +328</span>post-office. Ten to one that before the fastest +packet could reach New York I shall be writing again.</p> +<p>“Do you suppose the post-office clerks care to receive +letters? I have my doubts. They get into a dreadful +habit of indifference. A postman, I imagine, is quite +callous. Conceive his delivering one to himself, without +being startled by a preliminary double knock!”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>In the spring of 1842 Mr. Dickens was at Washington, from +whence he wrote to Irving:—</p> +<blockquote><p>“We passed through—literally passed +through—this place again to-day. I did not come to +see you, for I really have not the heart to say +“good-bye” again, and felt more than I can tell you +when we shook hands last Wednesday.</p> +<p>“You will not be at Baltimore, I fear? I thought, +at the time, that you only said you might be there, to make our +parting the gayer. Wherever you go, God bless you! +What pleasure I have had in seeing and talking with you, I will +not attempt to say. I shall never forget it as long as I +live. What <i>would</i> I give, if we could have but a +quiet week together! Spain is a lazy place, and its climate +an indolent one. But if you have ever leisure under its +sunny skies, to think of a man who loves you, and holds communion +with your spirit oftener, perhaps, than any other person +alive—leisure from listlessness, I mean—and will +write to me in London, you will give me an inexpressible amount +of pleasure.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Wishing, in the summer of 1856, to introduce a relation to +Irving, Mr. Dickens sent a pleasant letter of introduction, +wherein he says:—</p> +<blockquote><p>“If you knew how often I write to you +individually and <a name="page329"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +329</span>personally, in my books, you would be no more surprised +in seeing this note, than you were in seeing me do my duty by +that flowery julep (in what I dreamily apprehend to have been a +former state of existence) at Baltimore.</p> +<p>“Will you let me present to you a cousin of mine, Mr. +B—, who is associated with a merchant’s house in New +York? Of course, he wants to see you, and know you. +How can <i>I</i> wonder at that? How can anybody?</p> +<p>“I had a long talk with Leslie at the last Academy +dinner (having previously been with him in Paris), and he told me +that you were flourishing. I suppose you know that he wears +a moustache—so do I, for the matter of that, and a beard +too—and that he looks like a portrait of Don Quixote.</p> +<p>“Holland House has four-and-twenty youthful pages in it +now—twelve for my lord, and twelve for my lady; and no +clergyman coils his leg up under his chair all dinner-time, and +begins to uncurve it when the hostess goes. No wheeled +chair runs smoothly in, with that beaming face in it; and +—’s little cotton pocket-handkerchief helped to make +(I believe) this very sheet of paper. A half-sad, +half-ludicrous story of Rogers, is all I will sully it +with. You know, I daresay, that, for a year or so before +his death, he wandered and lost himself, like one of the Children +in the Wood, grown up there and grown down again. He had +Mrs. Procter and Mrs. Carlyle to breakfast with him one +morning—only those two. Both excessively talkative, +very quick and clever, and bent on entertaining him. When +Mrs. Carlyle had flashed and shone before him for about +three-quarters of an hour on one subject, he turned his poor old +eyes on Mrs. Procter, and, pointing to the brilliant discourser +with his poor old finger, said (indignantly), “Who is +<i>she</i>?” Upon this, Mrs. Procter, cutting in, +delivered—(it is <a name="page330"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 330</span>her own story)—a neat oration +on the life and writings of Carlyle, and enlightened him in her +happiest and airiest manner; all of which he heard, staring in +the dreariest silence, and then said (indignantly as before), +“And who are you?”</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="gapshortline"> </div> +<p><span class="smcap">With</span> few of his literary +contemporaries has Mr. Dickens held more cordial and pleasant +relations than with the late <span class="smcap">Douglas +Jerrold</span>. During all the years of their intercourse +that sympathy and friendship existed between them, which two +minds so thoroughly manly and honourable could hardly help +feeling for each other. Dickens, though considerably the +younger of the two, had won earlier the prizes of his +profession. But there was no mean envy and jealousy on the +one side, and no mean assumption on the other. The letters +that passed between the two men are altogether delightful to +read. We shall proceed to give, as far as our space will +allow, a few extracts from those of Dickens to Jerrold, <a +name="citation330"></a><a href="#footnote330" +class="citation">[330]</a> with intercalary elucidations +explanatory of the circumstances under which they were +written.</p> +<p>In the year 1843, Douglas Jerrold wrote to Mr. Dickens from +Herne Bay, where he had taken up his abode in “a little +cabin, built up of ivy and woodbine, and almost within sound of +the sea.”</p> +<p>Mr. Dickens replies:—</p> +<blockquote><p>“Herne Bay. Hum! I suppose +it’s no worse than any <a name="page331"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 331</span>other place in this weather, but it +<i>is</i> watery, rather, isn’t it? In my +mind’s eye, I have the sea in a perpetual state of +small-pox, and the chalk running down hill like town milk. +But I know the comfort of getting to work ‘in a fresh +place,’ and proposing pious projects to one’s self, +and having the more substantial advantage of going to bed early, +and getting up ditto, and walking about alone. If there +were a fine day, I should like to deprive you of the last-named +happiness, and to take a good long stroll.”</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="gapshortline"> </div> +<p>In the summer of 1844, “Come,” wrote Mr. Dickens +temptingly, “come and see me in Italy. Let us smoke a +pipe among the vines. I have taken a little house +surrounded by them, and no man in the world should be more +welcome to it than you.”</p> + +<div class="gapshortline"> </div> +<p>Again from Cremona, (November, 1844,) Dickens +writes:—</p> +<blockquote><p>“You rather entertained the notion once, of +coming to see me at Genoa. I shall return straight on the +ninth of December, limiting my stay in town to one week. +Now, couldn’t you come back with me? The journey that +way is very cheap, and I am sure the gratification to you would +be high. I am lodged in quite a wonderful place, and would +put you in a painted room as big as a church, and much more +comfortable. There are pens and ink upon the premises; +orange trees, gardens, battledores and shuttlecocks, rousing wood +fires for evenings, and a welcome worth having.” * * *</p> +</blockquote> + +<div class="gapshortline"> </div> +<p><a name="page332"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 332</span>In +1846, again, Mr. Dickens is off to Switzerland, and still would +tempt Jerrold in his wake. “I wish,” he writes, +“you would seriously consider the expediency and +feasibility of coming to Lausanne in the summer or early +autumn. It is a wonderful place to see; and what sort of +welcome you would find I will say nothing about, for I have +vanity enough to believe that you would be willing to feel +yourself as much at home in my household as in any +man’s.”</p> +<p>Arrived at Lausanne, Mr. Dickens writes that he will be ready +for his guest in June. “We are established +here,” he says, “in a perfect doll’s house, +which could be put bodily into the hall of our Italian +palazzo. But it is in the most lovely and delicious +situation imaginable, and there is a spare bedroom wherein we +could make you as comfortable as need be. Bowers of roses +for cigar-smoking, arbours for cool punch-drinking, mountain and +Tyrolean countries close at hand, piled-up Alps before the +windows, &c., &c., &c.” Then follow +business-like directions for the journey.</p> +<p>But it could not be. Jerrold was busy with his paper, +and with his magazine, and felt unable to abandon them even for a +few weeks. Well, could he reach Paris for Christmas, +persisted Mr. Dickens, and spend that merry time with his +friend.</p> +<p>Early in 1847 Jerrold thought he did see his way clear at last +to make a short visit to Paris, where Dickens was still +established. “We are delighted at your intention of +coming,” writes the latter, giving the most minute details +of the manner in which the journey was to be performed; but even +this journey was never accomplished. Once only, after all +these promises and invitations—and that for but two or +three days—did Douglas Jerrold escape from the cares of +London literary life, to meet Mr. Dickens at Ostend, on his +return from Italy, and have a few days’ stroll about +Belgium.</p> +<p><a name="page333"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 333</span>The +following is an extract from a curious and interesting letter +addressed by Dickens to Douglas Jerrold on the subject of public +hanging, respecting which the latter held conservative +opinions:—</p> +<blockquote><p style="text-align: right">‘Devonshire +Terrace, November 17, 1849.</p> +<p>“In a letter I have received from G. this morning he +quotes a recent letter from you, in which you deprecate the +‘mystery’ of private hanging.</p> +<p>“Will you consider what punishment there is, except +death, to which ‘mystery’ does not attach? Will +you consider whether all the improvements in prisons and +punishments that have been made within the last twenty years have +or have not, been all productive of ‘mystery?’ +I can remember very well when the silent system was objected to +as mysterious, and opposed to the genius of English +society. Yet there is no question that it has been a great +benefit. The prison vans are mysterious vehicles; but +surely they are better than the old system of marching prisoners +through the streets chained to a long chain, like the galley +slaves in Don Quixote. Is there no mystery about +transportation, and our manner of sending men away to Norfolk +Island, or elsewhere? None in abandoning the use of a +man’s name, and knowing him only by a number? Is not +the whole improved and altered system, from the beginning to end, +a mystery? I wish I could induce you to feel justified in +leaving that word to the platform people, on the strength of your +knowledge of what crime was, and of what its punishments were, in +the days when there was no mystery connected with these things, +and all was as open as Bridewell when Ned Ward went to see the +women whipped.”</p> +</blockquote> +<h3><a name="page334"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +334</span>II.—AS A POET.</h3> +<p><span class="smcap">There</span> are several among our +foremost prose writers in the present century, who, possessing +high imagination, and a considerable power of rhythmical +expression, have occasionally produced verse of a high though not +of the first order. Lord Macaulay will not be remembered +either by his prize poems, or by his “Lays of Ancient +Rome,” but one who wrote such eloquent prose could hardly +fail ignobly when he attempted verse. Thomas Carlyle, in +spite of his energetic denunciation of modern poetry as mere +dilettantism and trifling, has occasionally courted the muse, and +were the original pieces and translations from the German which +lie scattered through his earlier writings, collected together, +they would by themselves form a volume of no mean value. +They have a wild, rugged melody of their own, as have also the +occasional verses of Emerson; the latter bear in many respects a +remarkable resemblance to those of Blake. The author of +<i>Modern Painters</i> might also have gained some reputation as +a poet, had he chosen to preserve in a more permanent form his +scattered contributions to annuals. Indeed, it would seem +that no eloquent writer of prose is altogether devoid of the +lyric gift if he chooses to exercise it. The only attempt +at poetry by Charles Dickens which is at all known to the general +public is the famous song of “The Ivy Green,” in the +Pickwick Papers. This exquisite little lyric, with its +beautiful refrain, so often wedded to music and so familiar to us +all, would alone suffice to give him no mean rank among +contemporary writers of verse. But in the Comic Opera of +the Village Coquettes, <a name="citation334"></a><a +href="#footnote334" class="citation">[334]</a> to which <a +name="page335"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 335</span>we alluded +in our Introduction, there were a dozen songs of equal tenderness +and melody, though, as the author has never thought fit to +reprint the little piece, they are now forgotten.</p> +<p>The first is a song of Harvest-Home, supposed to be sung by a +company of reapers.</p> +<p>It must be mentioned that this and the other songs had the +advantage of being set to music by John Hullah. The next, +“Love is not a feeling to pass away,” was a great +favourite at the time. We quote the first stanza, the last +line of which recalls the little song in the Pickwick Papers:</p> +<blockquote><p>“Love is not a feeling to pass away,<br /> +Like the balmy breath of a summer day;<br /> +It is not—it cannot be—laid aside;<br /> +It is not a thing to forget or hide.<br /> +It clings to the heart, ah, woe is me!<br /> +As the ivy clings to the old oak tree.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>The next is a Bacchanalian song, supposed to be sung by a +country squire.</p> +<p>But the gem of all these little lyrics, in our opinion, is +that of “Autumn Leaves,” of which the refrain strikes +us as being peculiarly happy. The reader, however, shall +judge for himself, from the following quotation:—</p> +<blockquote><p>“Autumn leaves, autumn leaves, lie strewn +around me here;<br /> +Autumn leaves, autumn leaves, how sad, how cold, how drear!<br /> + How like the hopes of +childhood’s day,<br /> + Thick clustering +on the bough!<br /> + How like those hopes is their +decay,<br /> + How faded are +they now!<br /> +<a name="page336"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 336</span>Autumn +leaves, autumn leaves, lie strewn around me here<br /> +Autumn leaves, autumn leaves, how sad, how cold, how +drear!”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>The next lyric, “The Child and the Old Man,” was +sung by Braham at different concerts, long after the piece from +which it is taken, had been forgotten, and was almost invariably +encored.</p> +<p>Mr. Dickens’s poetical attempts have not, however, been +confined to song-writing. In 1842 he wrote for a friend a +very fine Prologue to a new tragedy. Mr. Westland Marston +came to London in his twenty-first year, and resolved to try his +success in the world of letters: after writing for several of the +second-class magazines, he finished his tragedy of the +“Patrician’s Daughter,” and introduced himself +to Mr. Dickens, who became interested in the play. Struck +with the novelty of “a coat-and-breeches tragedy,” +the good-tempered novelist recommended Macready to produce it, +and after some little hesitation, this distinguished actor took +himself the chief character—Mordaunt,—and also +recited a prologue by Mr. Dickens, <a name="citation336"></a><a +href="#footnote336" class="citation">[336]</a> from which we +quote a few lines.</p> +<p>Impressing the audience strongly with the scope and purpose of +what they had come to see, this prologue thoroughly prepared them +for welcome and applause. The strength and truth of some of +the concluding lines address themselves equally to a larger +audience.</p> +<blockquote><p>“No tale of streaming plumes and harness +bright<br /> +Dwells on the poet’s maiden theme to-night.</p> +</blockquote> +<p style="text-align: center">* * * *</p> +<blockquote><p><a name="page337"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +337</span>Enough for him if in his boldest word<br /> +The beating heart of man be faintly stirr’d.<br /> +That mournful music, that, like chords which sigh<br /> +Through charmed gardens, all who hear it die;<br /> +That solemn music he does not pursue,<br /> +To distant ages out of human view.</p> +</blockquote> +<p style="text-align: center">* * * *</p> +<blockquote><p>But musing with a calm and steady gaze<br /> +Before the crackling flame of living days,<br /> +He hears it whisper, through the busy roar<br /> +Of what shall be, and what has been before.<br /> +Awake the Present! Shall no scene display<br /> +The tragic passion of the passing day?<br /> +Is it with man as with some meaner things,<br /> +That out of death his solemn purpose springs?<br /> +Can this eventful life no moral teach,<br /> +Unless he be for aye beyond its reach?</p> +</blockquote> +<p style="text-align: center">* * * *</p> +<blockquote><p>Awake the Present! What the past has sown<br +/> +Is in its harvest garner’d, reap’d, and grown.<br /> +How pride engenders pride, and wrong breeds wrong,<br /> +And truth and falsehood hand in hand along<br /> +High places walk in monster-like embrace,<br /> +The modern Janus with a double face;<br /> +How social usage hath the power to change<br /> +Good thought to evil in its highest range,<br /> +To cramp the noble soul, and turn to ruth<br /> +The kindling impulse of the glowing youth,<br /> +Crushing the spirit in its house of clay,—<br /> +Learn from the lesson of the present day.<br /> +<a name="page338"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 338</span>Not +light its import, and not poor its mien,<br /> +Yourselves the actors, and your home the scene.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>We now come to a very curious fact. Mr. R. H. Horne +pointed out twenty-five years ago, <a name="citation337"></a><a +href="#footnote337" class="citation">[337]</a> that a great +portion of the scenes describing the death of Little Nell in the +“Old Curiosity Shop,” will be found to be +written—whether by design or harmonious accident, of which +the author was not even subsequently fully conscious—in +blank verse, of irregular metre and rhythms, which Southey, +Shelley, and some other poets have occasionally adopted. +The following passage, properly divided into lines, will stand +thus:</p> +<blockquote><p style="text-align: center">NELLY’S +FUNERAL.</p> +<p> “And now the bell—the bell<br /> +She had so often heard by night and day,<br /> + And listen’d to with solemn pleasure,<br /> + Almost as a living voice—<br +/> +Rung its remorseless toll for her,<br /> +So young, so beautiful, so good.</p> +<p> “Decrepit age, and vigorous life,<br +/> +And blooming youth and helpless infancy,<br /> +Pour’d forth—on crutches, in the pride of strength<br +/> + And health, in the full blush<br +/> + Of promise, the mere dawn of life—<br /> +To gather round her tomb. Old men were there,<br /> + Whose eyes were +dim<br /> + And senses +failing—<br /> +Grandames, who might have died ten years ago,<br /> +And still been old—the deaf, the blind, the lame,<br /> + The palsied,<br /> +<a name="page339"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 339</span>The +living dead in many shapes and forms,<br /> +To see the closing of this early grave.<br /> + What was the death it would shut in,<br /> +To that which still could crawl and creep above it!</p> +<p>“Along the crowded path they bore her now;<br /> + Pure as the new-fall’n snow<br /> +That cover’d it; whose day on earth<br /> + Had been as fleeting.<br /> +Under that porch, where she had sat when Heaven<br /> +In mercy brought her to that peaceful spot,<br /> + She pass’d again, and the old church<br /> + Received her in its quiet shade.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Throughout the whole of the above, only two unimportant words +have been omitted—<i>in</i> and <i>its</i>; and +“grandames” has been substituted for +“grandmothers.” All that remains is exactly as +in the original, not a single word transposed, and the +punctuation the same to a comma.</p> +<p>Again, take the brief homily that concludes the funeral:</p> +<blockquote><p>“Oh! it is hard to take to heart<br /> +The lesson that such deaths will teach,<br /> + But let no man reject it,<br /> + For it is one that all must learn,<br /> +And is a mighty, universal Truth.<br /> +When Death strikes down the innocent and young,<br /> +For every fragile form from which he lets<br /> + The parting spirit free,<br /> + A hundred virtues rise,<br /> +In shapes of mercy, charity, and love,<br /> + To walk the world and bless it.<br /> + <a name="page340"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 340</span>Of every tear<br /> +That sorrowing mortals shed on such green graves<br /> +Some good is born, some gentler nature comes.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>Not a ward of the original is changed in the above quotation, +which is worthy of the best passages in Wordsworth, and thus, +meeting on the common ground of a deeply truthful sentiment, the +two most dissimilar men in the literature of the century are +brought into the closest approximation.</p> +<p>Something of a similar kind of versification in prose may be +discovered in Chapter LXXVII. of “Barnaby Rudge,” and +there is an instance of successive verses in the Third Part of +the “Christmas Carol,” beginning</p> +<blockquote><p style="text-align: center">“Far in this den +of infamous resort.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>The following is from the concluding paragraph of +“Nicholas Nickleby”:—</p> +<blockquote><p>“The grass was green above the dead +boy’s grave,<br /> + Trodden by feet so small and light,<br /> + That not a daisy droop’d its head<br /> + Beneath their pressure.<br /> + Through all the spring and summer time<br /> +Garlands of fresh flowers, wreathed by infant hands,<br /> + Rested upon the stone.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>The following stanzas, entitled “A Word in +Season,” were contributed by Mr. Dickens in the winter of +1843 to an annual edited by his friend and correspondent, the +Countess of Blessington. Since that time he has ceased to +write, or at any rate to publish anything in verse.</p> +<p>This poem savours much of the manner of Robert Browning. +Full of wit and wisdom, and containing some very remarkable <a +name="page341"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 341</span>and +rememberable lines, an extract from it will fitly close this +chapter of our volume.</p> +<blockquote><p style="text-align: center">A WORD IN SEASON.<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">BY CHARLES DICKENS.</span></p> +<p> “They have a superstition in the +East,<br /> + That <span class="smcap">Allah</span>, written on a +piece of paper,<br /> +Is better unction than can come of priest<br /> + Of rolling incense, and of lighted taper:<br /> +Holding, that any scrap which bears that name,<br /> + In any characters, its front impress’d on,<br +/> +Shall help the finder thro’ the purging flame,<br /> + And give his toasted feet a place to rest on.</p> +<p>“So have I known a country on the earth,<br /> + Where darkness sat upon the living waters,<br /> +And brutal ignorance, and toil, and dearth<br /> + Were the hard portion of its sons and daughters:<br +/> +And yet, where they who should have oped the door<br /> + Of charity and light, for all men’s +finding,<br /> +Squabbled for words upon the altar-floor,<br /> + And rent The Book, in struggles for the +binding.” <a name="citation341"></a><a href="#footnote341" +class="citation">[341]</a></p> +</blockquote> +<h2><a name="page342"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +342</span>CHARLES DICKENS’S READINGS.<br /> +THE FIRST PUBLIC READING.<br /> +<span class="GutSmall">BY ONE WHO HEARD IT.</span></h2> +<p><span class="smcap">Note</span>.—<i>In the Introduction +to the present volume</i>, <i>p.</i> 42, <i>it is stated that +Dickens’s</i> “<span class="smcap">First</span> +<i>Reading</i>” <i>in public was given at Birmingham in the +Christmas of</i> 1853. <i>The offer to read on this public +occasion was certainly the</i> <span class="smcap">First</span> +<i>which the great novelist made</i>, <i>but before the Christmas +had come around he thought proper to give a trial Reading before +a much smaller audience</i>, <i>in the quiet little city of +Peterborough</i>.—<span class="smcap">Ed</span>.</p> +<p><span class="smcap">It</span> must be sixteen or seventeen +years ago—I cannot fix the date exactly, though the affair +made a strong impression on me at the time—that I witnessed +Charles Dickens’s <i>débût</i> as a public +reader. The circumstances surrounding this event were so +singular that I am tempted to recall them.</p> +<p>Scene, the City of Peterborough—dreamy and quiet enough +then, though now a flourishing railroad terminus—a silent +city, with a grand old Norman cathedral, round which the rooks +cawed lazily all day, straggling narrow streets of brick-built +houses, a large Corn Exchange, a Mechanics’ Institute, and +about seven thousand inhabitants. The Mechanics’ +Institute brought it all about. That well-meaning but +weak-kneed organization was, I need hardly say, in debt. +Mechanics’ Institutes always are in debt. That is +their chief <a name="page343"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +343</span>peculiarity, next to the fact that they never by any +chance have any mechanics among their members. Our +institution was no exception to the rule. On the contrary, +it was a bright and shining example. No mechanics’ +institute of its size anywhere around was so deeply in debt; none +was more snobbishly exclusive in its membership. We had +overrun our resources to such an extent that we could not even +pay the rent of the building we occupied, and were in daily +danger of being turned out of doors. Lectures on highly +improving subjects had been tried, but the proceeds did not pay +the printer. Concerts succeeded better, but the committee +said they were immoral. We had given two monster tea +meetings to pay off the debt, on which occasions all the cake +required was supplied gratuitously by the members’ mothers, +and all the members and their friends came in by free tickets and +ate it up. Henry Vincent delivered us an oration; George +Dawson propounded metaphysical sophistries for our intellectual +mystification; but with all this we got no better of our +troubles—every flounder we made only plunged us deeper into +the mud. At last it was resolved to write to our Borough +members. This was in the good old days of Whig supremacy; +and all the land and all the houses round about us being owned by +one great Whig earl, our borough was privileged to return two +members to represent the opinions of that unprotected earl in +Parliament. A contested election had just come to a close, +and the honeyed promises and grateful pledges of our elected +candidates were still fresh in our memory. So to our +members the committee addressed their tearful +entreaties—“deserving +institution,”—“valuable agency of +self-improvement,”—“pressing pecuniary +embarrassments,” and so forth. Member No. 1 sent his +compliments and a five pound note. Member No. 2 delayed +writing for several days, and then had great pleasure in +informing us that the celebrated author, <a +name="page344"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 344</span>Mr. Charles +Dickens, had kindly consented to deliver a public reading on our +behalf.</p> +<p>What an excitement it caused in the little city! Mr. +Dickens at that time had made no public appearance as a +reader. He had occasionally been heard of as giving +selections from his works to small coteries of friends or in the +private saloon of some distinguished patron of art. But he +had nervously shrunk from any public <i>débût</i>, +unwilling, so it seemed, to weaken his reputation as a writer by +any possible failure as a reader. This diffidence had taken +so strong a hold of him that it might never have been overcome +but for the insidious persuasions of “our +member.” “Here was an opportunity,” he +argued, “for testing the matter without risk: an +antediluvian country town; an audience of farmers’ sons and +daughters, rural shop-keepers, and a few country parsons—if +interest could be excited in the stolid minds of such a +Bœotian assemblage, the success of the reader would be +assured wherever the English tongue was spoken. On the +other hand, if failure resulted, none would be the wiser outside +this Sleepy-Hollow circle.” The bait took, and Mr. +Dickens consented to deliver a public reading in aid of the +Peterborough Mechanics’ Institute. He only stipulated +that the prices of admission should be such that every mechanic, +if he chose, might come to hear him, and named two shillings, a +shilling, and sixpence as the limit of charge.</p> +<p>Vain limitation!—a fortnight before the reading every +place was taken, and half a guinea and a guinea were the current +rates for front seat tickets.</p> +<p>Dickens himself came down and superintended the arrangements, +so anxious was he as to the result. At one end of the large +Corn Exchange before spoken of he had caused to be erected a tall +pulpit of red baize, as much like a Punch and Judy show with the +top taken off as anything. <a name="page345"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 345</span>This was to be the reader’s +rostrum. But, as the tall red pulpit looked lanky and very +comical stuck up there alone, two dummy pulpits of similar +construction were placed one on each side to bear it +company. When the reader mounted into the middle box +nothing was visible of him but his head and shoulders. So +if it be really true, as was stated afterwards by an indiscreet +supernumerary, that Mr. Dickens’s legs shook under him from +first to last, the audience knew nothing of it. The whole +character of the stage arrangements suggested that Mr. Dickens +was sure of his head, but was not quite so sure of his legs.</p> +<p>It was the <i>Christmas Carol</i> that Mr. Dickens read; the +night was Christmas Eve. As the clock struck the appointed +hour, a red, jovial face, unrelieved by the heavy moustache which +the novelist has since assumed, a broad, high forehead, and a +perfectly Micawber-like expanse of shirt-collar and front +appeared above the red baize box, and a full, sonorous voice rang +out the words, +“<i>Marley-was-dead-to-begin-with</i>”—then +paused, as if to take in the character of the audience. No +need of further hesitation. The voice held all +spellbound. Its depth of quiet feeling when the ghost of +past Christmases led the dreamer through the long-forgotten +scenes of his boyhood—its embodiment of burly good nature +when old Fezziwig’s calves were twinkling in the +dance—its tearful suggestiveness when the spirit of +Christmases to come pointed to the nettle-grown, neglected grave +of the unloved man—its exquisite pathos by the death-bed of +Tiny Tim, dwell yet in memory like a long-known tune. That +one night’s reading in the quaint little city, so curiously +brought about, so ludicrous almost in its surroundings, committed +Mr. Dickens to the career of a public reader; and he has since +derived nearly as large an income from his readings as from the +copyright of his novels. Only he signally failed to <a +name="page346"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 346</span>carry out +his wish of making his first bow before an uneducated +audience. The vote of thanks which closed the proceedings +was moved by the senior marquis of Scotland and seconded by the +heir of the wealthiest peer in England.</p> +<p>One other incident suggests itself in this connection. +Somewhere about this time three notable men stood together in a +print-shop in this same city—a singular three-cornered +shop, with three fiddles dangling forlorn and dusty from the +ceiling, and everything from piano-fortes to hair-brushes +comprised in its stock-in-trade. They stood there one whole +morning, laughing heartily at the perplexities of the little +shopwoman, who in her nervousness continually transposed the +first letters of words, sometimes with very comical effect. +Thus, instead of saying, “Put the bottle in the +cupboard,” she would remark, “Put the cottle in the +bupboard.” The laughing trio were Dickens, Albert +Smith, and Layard the traveller, now our minister to the court of +Madrid. I strongly suspect that the eccentricity of the +medical student in Albert Smith’s <i>Adventures of Mr. +Ledbury</i>—the student who invites his friends to +“poke a smipe” when he means them to “smoke a +pipe”—was born on that occasion, and that Charles +Dickens was robbed by his friend of some thunder which he +intended to use himself.</p> + +<div class="gapshortline"> </div> +<p><span class="smcap">But</span> to return to the +“Readings.” One glance at the platform is +sufficient to convince the audience that Mr. Dickens thoroughly +appreciates “stage effect.” A large screen of +maroon cloth occupies the background; before it stands a light +table of peculiar design, on the inner left-hand corner of which +there peers forth a miniature desk, large enough to accommodate +the reader’s book. On the right hand of the <a +name="page347"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 347</span>table, and +somewhat below its level, is a shelf, where repose a carafe of +water and a tumbler. This is covered with velvet, somewhat +lighter in colour than the screen. No drapery conceals the +table, whereby it is plain that Mr. Dickens believes in +expression of figure as well as of face, and does not throw away +everything but his head and arms, according to the ordinary habit +of ordinary speakers. About twelve feet above the platform, +and somewhat in advance of the table, is a horizontal row of +gas-jets with a tin reflector; and midway in both perpendicular +gas-pipes there is one powerful jet with glass chimney. By +this admirable arrangement, Mr. Dickens stands against a dark +background in a frame of gaslight, which throws out his face and +figure to the best advantage.</p> +<p>He comes! A lithe, energetic man, of medium stature, +crosses the platform at the brisk gait of five miles an hour, and +takes his position behind the table. This is Charles +Dickens, whose name has been a household word for thirty years in +England. He has a broad, full brow, a fine +head,—which, for a man of such power and energy, is +singularly small at the base of the brain,—and a cleanly +cut profile.</p> +<p>There is a slight resemblance between Mr. Dickens and the +Emperor of the French in the latter respect, owing mainly to the +nose; but it is unnecessary to add that the faces of the two men +are totally different. Mr. Dickens’s eyes are +light-blue, and his mouth and jaw, without having any claim to +beauty, possess a strength that is not concealed by the veil of +iron-gray moustache and generous imperial. His head is but +slightly graced with iron-gray hair, and his complexion is +florid. There is a twinkle in his eye, as he enters, that, +like a promissory note, pledges itself to any amount of +fun—within sixty minutes.</p> +<p>People may think in perusing Mr. Dickens’s books that he +must be a man of large humanity, of forgiving nature, of <a +name="page348"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 348</span>generous +impulses; in hearing him read they <i>know</i> that he must be +such a man. This, of course, does not alone make a great +artist; but equally, of course, it goes a long way towards making +one. To this general and catholic qualification for his +task Mr. Dickens adds special advantages of a high order. +He has action of singular ease and felicity, a remarkably +expressive eye, and a mobility of the facial muscles which +belongs to actors of the highest grade. As in the case of +Garrick, it is impossible to say whether love or terror, humour +or despair, are best simulated in a countenance which expresses +each and all on occasion with almost absolute perfection. +This is, no doubt, due in a great measure not to natural +qualities only, but to a varied and peculiar experience. +Some will have it that actors, like poets, are born, not made, +but this is only true in a limited and guarded sense.</p> +<blockquote><p style="text-align: center">THE CHRISTMAS CAROL. <a +name="citation349"></a><a href="#footnote349" +class="citation">[349]</a></p> +<p>“Ladies and gentlemen, I have the honour to read to you +‘A Christmas Carol,’ in four staves. Stave one, +Marley’s Ghost. Marley was dead. There is no +doubt whatever about that. The register of his burial was +signed by the clergyman, the clerk, the undertaker, and the chief +mourner. Scrooge signed it. And Scrooge’s name +was good upon ’Change, for anything he chose to put his +hand to. Old Marley was as dead as a door-nail.”</p> +</blockquote> +<p>At the close of this paragraph our first impression is that +Mr. Dickens’s voice is limited in power, husky, and +naturally monotonous. If he succeeds in overcoming these +defects, <a name="page349"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +349</span>it will be by dramatic genius. We begin to wonder +why Mr. Dickens constantly employs the rising inflexion, and +never comes to a full stop; but we are so pleasantly introduced +to Scrooge, that our spirits revive.</p> +<p>“Foul weather didn’t know where to leave +him. The heaviest rain and snow, and hail, and sleet could +boast of the advantage over him in only one respect,—they +often ‘came down’ handsomely, and Scrooge <i>never +did</i>.” Here the magnetic current between reader +and listener sets in, and when Scrooge’s clerk “put +on his white comforter, and tried to warm himself at the candle; +in which effort, not being a man of strong imagination, he +failed;” the connexion is tolerably well established. +We see old Scrooge very plainly, growling and snarling at his +pleasant nephew; and when that nephew invites that uncle to eat a +Christmas dinner with him, and Mr. Dickens goes on to relate that +Scrooge said “he would see him—yes, I am sorry to say +he did,—he went the whole length of the expression, and +said he would see him in that extremity first.” He +makes one dive at our sense of humour, and takes it +captive. Mr. Dickens is Scrooge; he is the two portly +gentlemen on a mission of charity; he is twice Scrooge when, upon +one of the portly gentlemen remarking that many poor people would +rather die than go to the workhouse, he replies: “If they +would rather die, they had better do it, and decrease the surplus +population;” and thrice Scrooge, when, turning upon his +clerk, he says, “You’ll want all day to-morrow, I +suppose?” It is the incarnation of a hard-hearted, +hard-fisted, hard-voiced miser.</p> +<p>“If quite convenient, sir.” A few words, but +they denote Bob Cratchit in three feet of comforter exclusive of +fringe, in well-darned, thread-bare clothes, with a mild, +frightened voice, so thin that you can see through it!</p> +<p><a name="page350"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 350</span>Then +there comes the change when Scrooge, upon going home, “saw +in the knocker, Marley’s face!” Of course +Scrooge saw it, because the expression of Mr. Dickens’s +face makes us see it “with a dismal light about it, like a +bad lobster in a dark cellar.” There is good acting +in this scene, and there is fine acting when the dying flame +leaps up as though it cried, “I know him! +Marley’s ghost!” With what gusto Mr. Dickens +reads that description of Marley, and how, “looking through +his waistcoat, Scrooge <i>could see the two buttons on his coat +behind</i>.”</p> +<p>Nothing can be better than the rendering of the Fezziwig +party, in Stave Two. You behold Scrooge gradually melting +into humanity; Scrooge, as a joyous apprentice; that model of +employers, Fezziwig; Mrs. Fezziwig “one vast substantial +smile,” and all the Fezziwigs. Mr. Dickens’s +expression as he relates how “in came the housemaid with +<i>her cousin</i> the baker, and in came the cook <i>with her +brother’s particular friend the milkman</i>,” is +delightfully comic, while his complete rendering of that dance +where “all were top couples at last, and not a bottom one +to help them,” is owing to the inimitable action of his +hands. They actually perform upon the table, as if it were +the floor of Fezziwig’s room, and every finger were a leg +belonging to one of the Fezziwig’s family. This feat +is only surpassed by Mr. Dickens’s illustration of Sir +Roger de Coverley, as interpreted by Mr. and Mrs. Fezziwig, when +“a positive light appeared to issue from Fezziwig’s +calves,” and he “cut so deftly that he appeared to +wink with his legs!” It is a maze of humour. +Before the close of the stave, Scrooge’s horror at sight of +the young girl once loved by him, and put aside for gold, shows +that Mr. Dickens’s power is not purely comic.</p> +<p>But the best of all, is Stave Three. We distinctly see +that “Cratchit” family. There are the potatoes +that <a name="page351"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +351</span>“knocked loudly at the saucepan-lid to be let out +and peeled;” there is Mrs. Cratchit, fluttering and +cackling like a motherly hen with a young brood of chickens; and +there is everybody. The way those two young Cratchits hail +Martha, and exclaim—“There’s <i>such</i> a +goose, Martha!” can never be forgotten. By some +conjuring trick, Mr. Dickens takes off his own head and puts on a +Cratchit’s. Later Bob Cratchit and Tiny Tim come +in. Assuredly it is Bob’s thin voice that pipes out, +“Why, where’s our Martha?” and it is Mrs. +Cratchit who shakes her head and replies, “Not +coming!” Then Bob relates how Tiny Tim behaved: +“as good as gold and better. Somehow he gets +thoughtful, sitting by himself so much, and thinks the strangest +things you have ever heard. He told me, coming home, that +he hoped the people saw him in the church, because he was a +cripple, and it might be pleasant to them to remember, upon +Christmas-day, who made lame beggars walk, and blind men +see.” There is a volume of pathos in these words, +which are the most delicate and artistic rendering of the whole +reading.</p> +<p>Ah, that Christmas dinner! We feel as if we were eating +every morsel of it. There are “the two young +Cratchits,” who “crammed spoons into their mouths, +lest they should shriek for goose before their turn;” there +is Tiny Tim, who “beat on the table with the handle of his +knife, and feebly cried, ‘Hoorray,’” in such a +still, small voice. And there is that goose! I see it +with my naked eye. And O the pudding! “A smell +like a washing-day! That was the cloth. A smell like +an eating-house and a pastry-cook’s next door to each +other, with a laundress’s next door to that! That was +the pudding.” Mr. Dickens’s sniffing and +smelling of that pudding would make a starving family <a +name="page352"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 352</span>believe +that they had swallowed it, holly and all. It is +infectious.</p> +<p>What Mr. Dickens <i>does</i> is very frequently infinitely +better than anything he says, or the way he says it; yet the +doing is as delicate and intangible as the odour of violets, and +can be no better described. Nothing of its kind can be more +touchingly beautiful than the manner in which Bob +Cratchit—previous to proposing “a merry Christmas to +us all, my dears, God bless us”—stoops down, with +tears in his eyes and places Tiny Tim’s withered little +hand in his, “as if he loved the child, and wished to keep +him by his side, and dreaded that he might be taken from +him.” It is pantomime worthy of the finest actor.</p> +<p>Admirable is Mrs. Cratchit’s ungracious drinking to +Scrooge’s health, and Martha’s telling how she had +seen a lord, and how he “was much about as tall as +Peter!”</p> +<p>It is a charming cabinet picture, and so likewise is the +glimpse of Christmas at Scrooge’s nephew’s. The +plump sister is “satisfactory, O perfectly +satisfactory,” and Topper is a magnificent fraud on the +understanding; a side-splitting fraud. We see Fred get off +the sofa, and <i>stamp</i> at his own fun, and we hear the plump +sister’s voice when she guesses the wonderful riddle, +“It’s your uncle Scro-o-o-o-oge!” +Altogether, Mr. Dickens is better than any comedy.</p> +<p>What a change in Stave Four! There sit the gray-haired +rascal “Old Joe,” with his crooning voice; Mr. +Dilber, and those robbers of dead men’s shrouds; there lies +the body of the plundered, unknown man; there sit the Cratchits +weeping over Tiny Tim’s death, a scene that would be beyond +all praise were Bob’s cry, “My little, little +child!” a shade less dramatic. Here, and only here, +Mr. Dickens forgets the nature of Bob’s voice, and employs +all the power of his own, carried away apparently by the +situation. Bob would not <a name="page353"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 353</span>thus give way to his feelings. +Finally, there is Scrooge, no longer a miser, but a human being, +screaming at the “conversational” boy in Sunday +clothes, to buy him the prize turkey “that never could have +stood upon his legs, that bird. He would have snapped +’em off in a minute, like sticks of +sealing-wax.” There is Bob Cratchit behind time, +trying to overtake nine o’clock, “that fled fifteen +minutes before.” There is Scrooge poking Bob in the +ribs, and vowing he will raise his salary; and there is at last +happiness for all, as Tiny Tim exclaims, “God bless us +every one!”</p> +<p>It is difficult to see how the “Christmas Carol” +can be read and acted better. The only improvement possible +is in the ghosts, who are, perhaps, too monotonous; a way ghosts +have when they return to earth. Solemnity and monotony are +not synonymous terms, yet every theatrical ghost insists that +they are, and Mr. Dickens is no exception to the rule. If +monotony is excusable in anyone, however, it is in him; for, when +one actor is obliged to represent <i>twenty-three different +characters</i>, giving to everyone an individual tone, he may be +pardoned if his ghosts are not colloquial.</p> +<p>Talk of sermons and churches! There never was a more +beautiful sermon than this of “The Christmas +Carol.” Sacred names do not necessarily mean sacred +things.</p> +<blockquote><p style="text-align: center">SIKES AND NANCY. <a +name="citation353a"></a><a href="#footnote353a" +class="citation">[353a]</a></p> +</blockquote> +<p>“Although amongst his friends, and such of the outside +world as had been admitted to the private performances of the +Tavistock House theatricals, Mr. Dickens was known to possess +much dramatic power, it was not until within the last few weeks +<a name="citation353b"></a><a href="#footnote353b" +class="citation">[353b]</a> that he found scope for its +exhibition on the <a name="page354"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +354</span>platform. Although the characters in his previous +readings had each a distinct and defined individuality—and +in true artistic spirit the comparatively insignificant +characters have as much finish bestowed upon their representation +as the heroes and heroines, <i>e.g.</i> the fat man on +’Change who replies ‘God knows,’ to the query +as to whom Scrooge had left his money—a bit of perfect +Dutch painting—one could not help feeling that the +personation was but a half-personation given under restraint; +that the reader was ‘underacting,’ as it is +professionally termed, and one longed to see him give his +dramatic genius full vent. That wish has now been +realised. When Mr. Dickens called round him some +half-hundred of his friends and acquaintances on whose +discrimination and knowledge of public audiences he had reliance, +and when, after requesting their frank verdict on the experiment, +he commenced the new reading, ‘Sikes and Nancy,’ +until, gradually warming with excitement, he flung aside his book +and acted the scene of the murder, shrieked the terrified +pleadings of the girl, growled the brutal savagery of the +murderer, brought looks, tones, gestures simultaneously into play +to illustrate his meaning, there was no one, not even of those +who had known him best, or who believed in him most, but was +astonished at the power and the versatility of his genius.</p> +<p>“Grandest of all the characters stands out Fagin, the +Jew. The voice is husky and with a slight lisp, but there +is no nasal intonation; a bent back, but no shoulder shrug; the +conventional attributes are omitted, the conventional words are +never spoken; and the Jew fence, crafty and cunning even in his +bitter vengeance, is there before us, to the life.</p> +<p>“Next comes Nancy. Readers of the old editions of +‘Oliver Twist’ will doubtless recollect how +desperately <a name="page355"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +355</span>difficult it was to fight against the dreadful +impression which Mr. George Cruikshank’s picture of Nancy +left upon the mind, and how it required all the assistance of the +author’s genius to preserve interest in the stunted, squab, +round-faced trull whom the artist had depicted. Accurately +delineating every other character in the book, and excelling all +his previous and subsequent productions in his etching of +‘Fagin in the Condemned Cell,’ Mr. Cruikshank not +merely did not convey the right idea of Nancy, which would have +been bad enough, but conveyed the wrong one, which was +worse. No such ill-favoured slut would have found a +protector in Sikes, who amongst his set and in his profession was +a man of mark. We all know Nancy’s position; but just +because we know it we are certain she must have had some amount +of personal comeliness, which Mr. Cruikshank has entirely denied +her. In the reading we get none of the common side of her +character, which peeps forth occasionally in the earlier +volumes. She is the heroine, doing evil that good may come +of it—breaking the trust reposed in her that the man she +loves and they amongst whom she has lived may be brought to +better lives. With the dread shadow of impending death upon +her, she is thrillingly earnest, almost prophetic. Thus, in +accordance with a favourite custom of the author, during the +interview on the steps at London Bridge, not only does the +girl’s language rise from the tone of everyday life and +become imbued with dramatic imagery and fervour, but that +eminently prosaic old person, Mr. Brownlow, becomes affected in +the same manner, saying, ‘before this river wakes to +life,’ and indulging in other romantic types and +metaphors. This may be scarcely life-like, but it is very +effective in the reading, enchaining the attention of the +audience and forming a fine contrast to the simple pathos of the +dialogue in the <a name="page356"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +356</span>murder-scene, every word of which is in the highest +degree natural and well-placed. It is here, of course, that +the excitement of the audience is wrought to its highest pitch, +and that the acme of the actor’s art is reached. The +raised hands, the bent-back head, are good; but shut your eyes, +and the illusion is more complete. Then the cries for +mercy, the ‘Bill! dear Bill! for dear God’s +sake!’ uttered in tones in which the agony of fear prevails +even over the earnestness of the prayer, the dead, dull voice as +hope departs, are intensely real. When the pleading ceases, +you open your eyes in relief, in time to see the impersonation of +the murderer seizing a heavy club, and striking his victim to the +ground.</p> +<p>“Artistically speaking, the story of Sikes and Nancy +ends at the point here indicated. Throughout the entire +scene of the murder, from the entrance of Sikes into the house +until the catastrophe, the silence was intense—the old +phrase ‘a pin might have been heard to drop,’ could +have been legitimately employed. It was a great study to +watch the faces of the people—eager, excited, +intent—permitted for once in a life-time to be natural, +forgetting to be British, and cynical, and unimpassioned. +The great strength of this feeling did not last into the +concluding five minutes. The people were earnest and +attentive; but the wild excitement so seldom seen amongst us died +as Nancy died, and the rest was somewhat of an anti-climax.</p> +<p>“No one who appreciates great acting should miss this +scene. It will be a treat such as they have not had for a +long time, such as, from all appearances, they are not likely to +have soon again. To them the earnestness and force, the +subtlety, the <i>nuances</i>, the delicate lights and shades of +the great dramatic art, will be exhibited by one of the +first—if not the first—of its living masters; while +those of <a name="page357"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +357</span>far less intellectual calibre will understand the +vigour of the entire performance, and be specially amused at the +facial and vocal dexterity by which the crafty Fagin is, +instantaneously changed into the chuckle-headed Noah +Claypole.”</p> + +<div class="gapshortline"> </div> +<p>Mr. Dickens, as a reader, is an artist of the very first rank; +and to say that his reading of the choicest portions of his own +works is actually as fine in its way as the works themselves in +theirs, is a compliment at once exceedingly high and richly +deserved.</p> +<p>During his late visit to America, the great men of the land +travelled from far and near to be present at the readings; the +poet Longfellow went three nights in succession, and he +afterwards declared to a friend that they were “the most +delightful evenings of his life.”</p> +<h2>FOOTNOTES</h2> +<p><a name="footnote7"></a><a href="#citation7" +class="footnote">[7]</a> This first Sketch was entitled, +“<i>Mrs. Joseph Porter</i>, ‘<i>over the +Way</i>.’” The <i>Monthly Magazine</i> in which +this appeared was published by Cochrane and M‘Crone, and +must not be confounded with <i>The New Monthly Magazine</i>, +published by Colburn.</p> +<p><a name="footnote8a"></a><a href="#citation8a" +class="footnote">[8a]</a> This was the first paper in which +Dickens assumed the pseudonym of “Boz.” The +previous sketches appeared anonymously.</p> +<p><a name="footnote8b"></a><a href="#citation8b" +class="footnote">[8b]</a> Of these Sketches two volumes +were collected and published by Macrone (with illustrations by +George Cruikshank), in February, 1836, and a third in the +December following.</p> +<p><a name="footnote10"></a><a href="#citation10" +class="footnote">[10]</a> The pamphlet was entitled +<i>Sunday wider Three Heads</i>: <i>As it is</i>; <i>as Sabbath +Bills would make it</i>; <i>as it might be made</i>. By +Timothy Sparks. London, Chapman and Hall, 1836, pp. 49 +(with illustrations by Hablot K. Browne).</p> +<p><a name="footnote11"></a><a href="#citation11" +class="footnote">[11]</a> “Memoirs of Joseph +Grimaldi,” edited by <i>Boz</i>. With illustrations +by George Cruikshank. In two volumes. London, R. +Bentley. 1838.</p> +<p><a name="footnote15"></a><a href="#citation15" +class="footnote">[15]</a> “Master Humphrey’s +Clock,” Vol. I. p. 72.</p> +<p><a name="footnote18a"></a><a href="#citation18a" +class="footnote">[18a]</a> “Master Humphrey’s +Clock,” Vol. I., pp. 98, 99.</p> +<p><a name="footnote18b"></a><a href="#citation18b" +class="footnote">[18b]</a> June 25, 1841.</p> +<p><a name="footnote24"></a><a href="#citation24" +class="footnote">[24]</a> Kate Field.</p> +<p><a name="footnote26"></a><a href="#citation26" +class="footnote">[26]</a> <i>Evenings of a Working Man</i>, +by John Overs, with a Preface relative to the Author, by Charles +Dickens. London: Newby, 1844.</p> +<p><a name="footnote27"></a><a href="#citation27" +class="footnote">[27]</a> <i>Bentley’s +Miscellany</i>, edited by Mr. Dickens during the years +1837–38.</p> +<p><a name="footnote28"></a><a href="#citation28" +class="footnote">[28]</a> Dr. Elliotson.</p> +<p><a name="footnote29"></a><a href="#citation29" +class="footnote">[29]</a> We are told that Overs did not +live long after the publication of his little book: “the +malady under which he was labouring, terminated fatally the +following October.”</p> +<p><a name="footnote30"></a><a href="#citation30" +class="footnote">[30]</a> <i>Fraser’s Magazine</i>, +July, 1844.</p> +<p><a name="footnote31"></a><a href="#citation31" +class="footnote">[31]</a> These five volumes were all +gracefully illustrated by John Leech, Daniel Maclise, Clarkson +Stanfield, Sir Edwin Landseer, Richard Doyle, and others; and a +set of the original issue is now much sought after, and not +easily met with.</p> +<p><a name="footnote33"></a><a href="#citation33" +class="footnote">[33]</a> “Unto this +Last.” Chap. I.</p> +<p><a name="footnote34"></a><a href="#citation34" +class="footnote">[34]</a> The following instances are, by +kind permission, selected from an admirable article upon this +subject, which appeared in the “Temple Bar” Magazine +for September, 1869.</p> +<p><a name="footnote53"></a><a href="#citation53" +class="footnote">[53]</a> Sir David Wilkie died at sea, on +board the <i>Oriental</i>, off Gibraltar, on the 1st of June, +1841, whilst on his way back to England. During the evening +of the same day his body was committed to the deep.—<span +class="smcap">Ed</span>.</p> +<p><a name="footnote55"></a><a href="#citation55" +class="footnote">[55]</a> The <i>Britannia</i> was the +vessel that conveyed Mr. Dickens across the Atlantic, on his +first visit to America.—<span class="smcap">Ed</span>.</p> +<p><a name="footnote61"></a><a href="#citation61" +class="footnote">[61]</a> <i>Master Humphrey’s +Clock</i>, under which title the two novels of Barnaby Rudge and +The Old Curiosity Shop originally appeared.—<span +class="smcap">Ed</span>.</p> +<p><a name="footnote63"></a><a href="#citation63" +class="footnote">[63]</a> “I shall always entertain a +very pleasant and grateful recollection of Hartford. It is +a lovely place, and I had many friends there, whom I can never +remember with indifference. We left it with no little +regret.” <i>American Notes</i> (Lond. 1842). +Vol. I, p. 182.</p> +<p><a name="footnote70"></a><a href="#citation70" +class="footnote">[70]</a> See the <i>Life and Letters of +Washington Irving</i> (Lond. 1863), p. 644, where Irving speaks +of a letter he has received “from that glorious fellow +Dickens, in reply to the one I wrote, expressing my heartfelt +delight with his writings, and my yearnings toward +himself.” See also the letter itself, in the second +division of this volume.—<span class="smcap">Ed</span>.</p> +<p><a name="footnote88"></a><a href="#citation88" +class="footnote">[88]</a> <span +class="smcap"><i>Tennyson</i></span>, <i>Lady Clara Vere de +Vere</i>, then newly published in collection of 1842.—<span +class="smcap">Ed</span>.</p> +<p><a name="footnote95"></a><a href="#citation95" +class="footnote">[95]</a> “That this meeting, while +conveying its cordial thanks to Charles Dickens, Esq., for his +presence this evening, and for his able and courteous conduct as +President, cannot separate without tendering the warmest +expression of its gratitude and admiration to one whose writings +have so loyally inculcated the lessons of benevolence and virtue, +and so richly contributed to the stores of public pleasure and +instructions.”</p> +<p><a name="footnote98"></a><a href="#citation98" +class="footnote">[98]</a> The Duke of Devonshire.</p> +<p><a name="footnote105"></a><a href="#citation105" +class="footnote">[105]</a> <i>Charlotte Corday going to +Execution</i>.</p> +<p><a name="footnote113"></a><a href="#citation113" +class="footnote">[113]</a> The above is extracted from Mrs. +Stowe’s “Sunny Memories of Foreign Lands,”, a +book in which her eaves-dropping propensities were already +developed in a sufficiently ugly form.—<span +class="smcap">Ed</span>.</p> +<p><a name="footnote150"></a><a href="#citation150" +class="footnote">[150]</a> Alas! the “many +years” were to be barely six, when the speaker was himself +destined to write some memorial pages commemorative of his +illustrious friend (Cornhill Magazine, February, +1864.)—<span class="smcap">Ed</span>.</p> +<p><a name="footnote153"></a><a href="#citation153" +class="footnote">[153]</a> Mr. Henry Dodd had proposed to +give five acres of land in Berkshire, but, in consequence of his +desiring to attach certain restrictions, after a long and +unsatisfactory correspondence, the Committee, on 13th January +following, rejected the offer. (<i>Communicated</i>.)</p> +<p><a name="footnote161"></a><a href="#citation161" +class="footnote">[161]</a> Claude Melnotte in <i>The Lady +of Lyons</i>, Act iii. sc. 2.</p> +<p><a name="footnote177"></a><a href="#citation177" +class="footnote">[177]</a> Mr. B. Webster.</p> +<p><a name="footnote220"></a><a href="#citation220" +class="footnote">[220]</a> <i>Romeo and Juliet</i>, Act +III. Sc. 1.</p> +<p><a name="footnote239"></a><a href="#citation239" +class="footnote">[239]</a> Robert Browning: <i>Bells and +Pomegranates</i>.</p> +<p><a name="footnote242"></a><a href="#citation242" +class="footnote">[242]</a> R. H.</p> +<p><a name="footnote250"></a><a href="#citation250" +class="footnote">[250]</a> <i>Carlyle’s French +Revolution</i>. Book X., Chapter I.</p> +<p><a name="footnote259"></a><a href="#citation259" +class="footnote">[259]</a> Henry Thomas Buckle.</p> +<p><a name="footnote260"></a><a href="#citation260" +class="footnote">[260]</a> This and the Speeches which +follow were accidentally omitted in their right places.</p> +<p><a name="footnote263"></a><a href="#citation263" +class="footnote">[263]</a> Hazlitt’s Round Table +(Edinburgh, 1817, vol ii., p. 242), <i>On Actors and +Acting</i>.</p> +<p><a name="footnote274"></a><a href="#citation274" +class="footnote">[274]</a> <i>Vide suprà</i>, +<i>p.</i> 268.</p> +<p><a name="footnote292"></a><a href="#citation292" +class="footnote">[292]</a> An allusion to a well-known +Sonnet of Wordsworth, beginning—“The world is too +much with us—late and soon,” &c.—<span +class="smcap">Ed</span>.</p> +<p><a name="footnote303"></a><a href="#citation303" +class="footnote">[303]</a> Alluding to the forthcoming +serial story of <i>Edwin Drood</i>.</p> +<p><a name="footnote309"></a><a href="#citation309" +class="footnote">[309]</a> The Honourable John Lothrop +Motley.</p> +<p><a name="footnote311"></a><a href="#citation311" +class="footnote">[311]</a> February 26th, 1851. Mr. +Macready’s Farewell Benefit at Drury Lane Theatre, on which +occasion he played the part of Macbeth.—<span +class="smcap">Ed</span>.</p> +<p><a name="footnote312"></a><a href="#citation312" +class="footnote">[312]</a> <span +class="smcap">Macbeth</span>, Act I., sc. 7.</p> +<p><a name="footnote316"></a><a href="#citation316" +class="footnote">[316]</a> The Bishop of Ripon (Dr. +Longley).</p> +<p><a name="footnote330"></a><a href="#citation330" +class="footnote">[330]</a> These passages are given by kind +permission of Mr. Blanchard Jerrold, who has obligingly allowed +us to make free use of this portion of the Memoir of his +father. We refer the reader who is desirous of seeing more, +to that ably-written biography.—<span +class="smcap">Ed</span>.</p> +<p><a name="footnote334"></a><a href="#citation334" +class="footnote">[334]</a> <i>The Village Coquettes</i>: +<i>a Comic Opera in Two Acts</i>. By <span +class="smcap">Charles Dickens</span>. The music by John +Hullah. London: Richard Bentley, 1836.</p> +<p><a name="footnote336"></a><a href="#citation336" +class="footnote">[336]</a> Produced for the first time at +the Theatre Royal, Drury Lane, on Saturday, December 10, +1842. We would fain have given this fine prologue entire, +had we felt authorized in doing so.</p> +<p><a name="footnote337"></a><a href="#citation337" +class="footnote">[337]</a> In “A New Spirit of the +Age.” (Lond., 1844), Vol. I., pp. 65–68.</p> +<p><a name="footnote341"></a><a href="#citation341" +class="footnote">[341]</a> <i>The Keepsake for</i> +1844. <i>Edited by the Countess of Blessington</i>, pp. 73, +74.</p> +<p><a name="footnote349"></a><a href="#citation349" +class="footnote">[349]</a> The reader who desires to +further renew his recollections of Mr. Dickens’s Readings +is referred to Miss Kate Field’s admirable “Pen +Photographs,” published in Boston, in 1868. The +little volume is a valuable estimate of the readings recently +given in America.</p> +<p><a name="footnote353a"></a><a href="#citation353a" +class="footnote">[353a]</a> Extracted (by kind permission) +from a criticism by Mr. Edmund Yates.</p> +<p><a name="footnote353b"></a><a href="#citation353b" +class="footnote">[353b]</a> Written in 1868.</p> +<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SPEECHES OF CHARLES DICKENS***</p> +<pre> + + +***** This file should be named 824-h.htm or 824-h.zip****** + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/8/2/824 + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will +be renamed. + +Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright +law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, +so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United +States without permission and without paying copyright +royalties. 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