6 eo Taig ee oie . FN do Riv ey 2 cao S ePAt emee Senden tenet a ena Sieh nimnsicncd et, ‘ i at 7 : ie so ris poets Sey kee Fy uA by i rape ON ‘ By ah, me seires ee RT enc } “ [ rad a aang es ‘ i ig _ 2 | eo Pig des “Lil % ik. [8 ; ~ Lad jl - pe us| 5 ae | ped [Be 7-4 i —— [ ” oeneeee aaa ad wis woe TRA =— Fat = = | Lad = — i aay oe of Los eS ao 2 bad il = THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF NORTH CAROLINA ENDOWED BY THE DIALECTIC AND PHILANTHROPIC SOCIETIES PR4572 «56 1870 999 9§ 9 99939 5a 59) 53 54 59 56 5] §. 4) 48 48 $0 51 52 198995 | A243 48 45 4 UNIVERSITY OF N.C. A viii Hl 00026919933 This book is due at the LOUIS R. WILSON LIBRARY on the last date stamped under “Date Due.” If not on hold it may be renewed by bringing it to the library. DATE DUE | Sear a. Pia cage) RET. RET. | Form No. &73 MPEECHES LITERARY AND SOCIAL. BY Cr blenei hs FS = 93 those who are responsible and thinking men. There is, in: deed, 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 ef 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 rail- ways, 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 tole- rably 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, andJ 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 64 CHARLES DICKENS'S SPEECHES. Feb, 28, foremost to assert that vice and crime have not their com- mon origin in ignorance and discontent. The good work, however, in spite of all political and party differences, has been well begun; we are all interested in it; 1t is advancing, and cannot be stopped by any oppo- sition, although it may be retarded in this place or in that, by the indifference of the middle classes, with whom its suc- cessful 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 them- selves 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 lunatice or cripple, a mere matter of newspaper notoriety and wonder for some few days. This, then, establishes a fact evident to the meanest com- prehension—that any given number of thousands of indivi- duals, 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, Ido not myself be- lieve that the working classes ever were the wanton or mis- chievous 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. - Now this assertion is well illustrated by what occurred respecting an equestrian statue in the metropolis, with 2 1844. THE WORKING CLASSES. 9& 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. - Bat 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 forsuch high purposes as it is proposed to carry. out by the establish- ment of the Birminghani 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—com- prehensive, 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 refe- rence 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.” In answer to a vote of thanks,* Mr. Dickens said, at the close of the meeting— | “Ladies and gentlemen, we ate now quite even—for evety * “That this meeting, while conveying its cordial thanks to Charles Dickens, Esg., for his presence this evening, and for his able and courteous 66 CHARLES DICKENS'S SPEECHES. Feb. 28, 1844 éffect 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 [ pointing to the word ‘ Boz, in front of the great gallery| 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. 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 gene- rosity— ‘A thousand times, good night ; A thousand times the worse to want your light.’ 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 contri- buted to the stores of public pleasure and instruction.” NG = MV IAS Us P< oe) KS NR : Ese =—— lex. GARDENERS AND GARDENING. seen () anno HONDON) JUNE ‘14; 1852, (The Ninth Annivetsary Dinnet of the Gardeners’ Benevolent Institution was held on the above date at the London Tavern. The compariy 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:—] | - MOR 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. [ The cheers were warmly given. | 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. 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 favour- 7 98 CHARLES DICKENS'S SPEECHES. June 14, able 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 ma- naged 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 pen- sioners come from all parts of England, whilst all the ex- penses are paid from the annual income and interest on stock, and therefore are not disproportionate to its means. 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* whose whole possessions are remarkable for taste and beauty, ana 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 sup- porters, with the sums .written against the names of the * The Duke of Devonshire. 1852. GARDENERS AND GARDENING. 99 numerous nurserymen and seedsmen therein comprised. I hope the day will come when every gardener in England will be a member of the charity. 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 lable to infir- mity ; and when old age comes upon him, the gardener is of all men perhaps best able to appreciate the merits of such an Institution. To all indeed, present and absent, who are descended from the first ‘*oardener Adam and his wife,” the benefits of such a society are obvious. In the culture of flowers there cannot, by their very nature, be anything soli- tary 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 inter- change 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. The love of gardening is associated with all conditions of men, and all periods of time. ‘The scholar and the states- man, 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 work- shops people garden; and even the prisoner is found gar- 7—2 100 CHARLES DICKENS'S SPEECHES, June 14, 183%. dening 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. IT will call upon you to drink “ Prosperity to the Gar- deners’ 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. [Later in the evening, Mr. Dickens said :—] My office has compelled me to burst into bloom so often that I could wish there were a closer parallel between my- self 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. [In proposing the health of the Treasurers, Mr. Dickens said :—] 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 signifi- cant letters, L., $., D., I1donot 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. — 12) SKE X. BIRMINGHAM, JANUARY 6, 1853. [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 :—] =i ENTLEMEN, I feel it very difficult, I assure you, to tender myacknowledgments to you, and through you, to those many friends of minewhom 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 num- bers 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 102 CHARLES DICKENS 5 SPEECHES, Jan. 6, 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 admi- ration their fortitude, patience, gentleness, the reasonableness of their nature, so accessible to persuasion, and their extra- ordinary 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. Gentlemen, I accept this salver and this ring as far above all price to me, as very valuable in themselves, and as beau- tiful 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 desert- ing 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 ex- pectation, 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. 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 1853. LITERATURE OF ENGLAND, 103 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 occa- sion which has some connexion with their own proceedings; and, though last not least, I tender my acknowledgments to that charming presence, without which nothing beau- tiful can be complete, and which is endearingly associ- ated 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. The company then adjourned to Dee’s Hotel, where a banquet took place, at which about 220 persons were pre- sent, 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 :—. 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 grati- fication 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 Birming- ri CHARLES DICKENS'S SPEECHES, NTs, ham, 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 night also, as it seems to me, not only that literature should receive honour here, but that it should render honour, too, remem- bering 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 scur- rilous 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 neces- sity of his calling—from all such evils the people have set literature free. And my creed in the exercise of that pro- fession 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 degene- rated 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 con- sidered, 1853. “LITERATURE AND ART. 105 Why do I say this? Because I believe there are in Bir- mingham at this moment many working men infinitely bet- ter 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) dis- covered 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, how- ever 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 advan- tage and improvement from their ready sympathy and cor- dial response. I may instance the case of my friend Mr. Ward’s magnificent picture ;* and the reception of that pic- ture 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 tem- ple,—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. Gentlemen, to return and conclude, as I shall have oc- casion to trouble you again. For this time I have only once again to repeat what I have already said. As I begun with * Charlotte Corday going to Execution, 106 CHARLES DICKENS'S SPEECHES. Jan. 6, 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 intelli- gence 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. Later in the evening, Mr. Dickens gave as a toast, ‘The Educational Institutions of Birmingham,” in the following speech: 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. Gen- tlemen, 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 1853. INSTITUTIONS OF BIRMINGHAM. 107 cause of happiness to others—I mean those excellent girls’ schools in various parts of the town, which, under the ex- cellent superintendence of the principal, I should most:sin- cerely desire to see in every town in England. Next, I believe, is the Spring Hill College, a learned institution be- longing 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 airive 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 con- viction 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 forma- tion 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. 108 CHARLES DICKENS'S SPEECHES, Jan. 6, 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 un- known—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 ad- miration 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 com- binations, 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. 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. 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 coma under my observation. I have seen in the factories and workshops of Birmingham such beautiful order and regula £853. EDUCATIONAL iNSTITUTIONS, 109 rity, and such great consideration for the workpeople pro- vided, 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 admi- rable 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 ob- servant stranger. Gather up those threads, and a grea many 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. ale LONDON, APRIL 30, 1853. [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, | Reg DICKENS then addressed the President, who, it 4}/ should be mentioned, occupied a large and hand- some chair, the back covered with crimson velvet, placed just before Stanfield’s picture of Zhe Victory. 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 heart- felt 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. 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 April 30, 1853. SIR CHARLES EASTLAKE, . tit 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, ae a new expression, and 1 in a universal language, role LONDON, OMAY 715213853: [At a dinner given by the Lord Mayor at the Mansion House, on the above date, Mr. Justice Talfourd proposed asa 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 i—] Fea. DICKENS replied to this toast in a gtaceful jg.) and playful strain. In the former part of the evening, in reply to a toast on the chancery de- partment, 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 parsi- moniously 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. ‘Mr. Dickens alluded playfully to this item of intelligence ; said he was exceedingly happy to hear it, as he trusted now May 1, 1853. REFORM OF CHANCERY. TI3 that a suit, in which he was greatly interested, would speedily come toanend. 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 ex- traordinarily 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.”* * The above is extracted from Mrs. Stowe’s ‘‘Sunny Memories of Foreign Lands,” a book in which her eaves-dropping propensities were already de- veloped in a sufficiently ugly ferm.—ED. SSLLT BIRMINGHAM, DECEMBER 30, 1853. [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, not- withstanding the inclemency of the weather, nearly two thousand persons had assembled. ‘The work selected was the Christmas Carol. ‘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 termi- nation, and the loud and frequent bursts of applause attested the successful discharge of the reader’s arduous task. On Thursday evening Mr. Dickens read The Cricket on the Hearth. The Hall was again well filled, and the tale, though deficient in the dramatic interest of the Caro/, was listened to with attention, and rewarded with repeated applause. On Friday evening, the Christmas Carol was read a second time toa 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. ] sera Y GOOD FRIENDS,—When I first imparted to the 1] 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 de- sires ; first, by the wish to have the great pleasure of meet- — ‘ Dec. 30, 1853. A TEMPLE OF CONCORD. re ing 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 pub- licly 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 Insti- tution which is designed for his benefit, and which calls itself by his name. 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 to- _gether 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 understandmg of one another. Erect in Birmingham a great Educational Institution, properly edu- cational; 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. Contemplating as I do the existence of the Artisans’ o=12 126 CHARLES DICKENS'S SPEECHES. Dec. 30, 1853, 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 pre- pare himself in individual cases where he feels that the adverse circumstances around him have rendered it neces- sary ; in a word, that he will feel his responsibility hke an honest man, and will most honestly and manfully discharge it. I now proceed to the pleasant task to which J assure you I have looked forward for a long time. 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 :— You have heard so much of my voice since we met to- night, that I will only say, in acknowledgment of this affect- ing 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, DAA COMMERCIAL TRAVELLERS. ———— () + LONDON, DECEMBER 30, 1854. | 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. ] ; THINK 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 popu- lation, 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 118 CHARLES DICKENS'S SPEECHES. Dec. 30, 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, some- how 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 re- cal our chaste and innocent admiration of its landlady, or our fraternal regard for its handsome chambermaid. A cele- brated domestic critic once writing of a famous actress, re- nowned 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. » 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 inten- 1854. COMMERCIAL TRAVELLERS. 119 tions, 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. 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 ex- periences 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 gen- tlemen, every one must be prepared to learn that commercial travellers, as a body, know how to prize those domestic rela- tions from which their pursuits so frequently sever them ; for no one could possibly invent a more delightful or more con- vincing 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. 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 chil- dren of your deceased friends with one crowning ornament, 120 CHARLES DICKENS'S SPEECHES. Det. 30, 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 ex- hibited the same unity and steadfastness I find in yours. 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 ina 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 Ido 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.” [In proposing the health of the Army in the Crimea, Mr. Dickens said :—] [S/T does not require any extraordinary sagacity in a 4} commercial assembly to appreciate the dire 1854. COMMERCIAL. TRAVELLERS. tet 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 immea- surably greater, and when a powerful nation, by admitting the right of any autocrat to do wrong, sows by such compli- city the seeds of its own ruin, and overshadows itself in time to come with that fatal influence which great and am- bitious powers are sure to exercise over their weaker neigh- bours. 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 cala- mity 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 jus- tice between whom and us he now interposes. 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 diplo- matic 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 them- 122 CHARLES DICKENS'S SPEECHES. Dec. 30. selves 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 faith- ful 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 in- terests and arts of peace, to drink the health of the Allied Armies of England and France, with all possible honours. [In proposing the health of the Treasurer, Mr. Dickens said :-—] 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 elo- quent 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 consi- deration I can show him is to propose his health without further observation, leaving him to address you in his own behalf. JI 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. 1854, COMMERCIAL TRAVELLERS. 123 [Later in the evening, Mr. Dickens rose and said :-—] 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 tra- vellers, 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 pre- sent 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. We have also amongst us my friend Mr. Peter Cunning- ham, who is also a traveller, not only in right of his able edition of Goldsmith’s ‘ Traveller,” but in right of his admi- rable 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 [M7 Dickens here pointed to the ladies’ gallery|, and who, whenever the fair sex is mentioned, will be found to have the liveliest personal in- terest in the conversation. 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. 124 - CHARLES DICKENS'S SPEECHES. Dec. 30, 1854. Albert Smith has just said to me in an earnest tone of voice, “What song would you recommend ?” and I replied, ‘ Ga- lignani’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. XV, ADMINISTRATIVE REFORM. ———— J em THEATRE ROYAL, DRURY LANE, WEDNESDAY, JUNE 27, 1855. the kind saabttiant aatrglee 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 sur- prising 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 Par- liament 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 ad- vantage of hearing him and cheering him night after night, 126 CHARLES DICKENS'S SPEECHES. June 27, 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. Iwill not say that if I wanted to form a com- pany 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 con- descending as to manage are so intolerably bad, the machi- nery 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 ave their families, that we find ourselves obliged to organize an opposition. We have seen the Comedy of Errors played so dismally like a tragedy that we really cannot bear it. We are, therefore, 1859, ADMINISTRATIVE REFORM. 127 making bold to get up the School of Reform, 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. 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 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 over- -step, further than this, or for a longer period than [ 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 grie- vances, and to help to set them right. When the Zzmes 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 129 CHARLES DICKENS'S SPEECHES, June 27, 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 pos- sibly 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 citizen- ship 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 func- tions 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. JI 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: 1855, ADMINISTRATIVE REFORM. 129 ‘‘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 Par- liament man; because he says nothing is done, that he can see, out of any truth and sincerity, but mere envy and design,” 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 inte- rests 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 blan- dishments, standing on the threshold, with its finger on its lips. I will not ask how it comes that those personal alter- cations, involving all the removes and definitions of Shake- speare’s Touchstone—the retort courteous—the quip modest —the reply churlish—the reproof valiant—the countercheck quarrelsome—the lie circumstantial and the le 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 Com- mons 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 sufficiently invalided state to require close 9 130 CHARLES. DICKENS'S SPEECHES. | June 27, 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 use- fulness 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; 1t must be trotted about, and must be hustled 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. This brings me to objection number two. It is stated that this Association sets ciass against class. Is this so? (Cries of “ Vo.”) No, it finds class set against class, and seeks to reconcile them. I wish to avoid placing in oppo- sition those two words—Aristocracy and People. Iam 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 jus- tice and supported by common sense. Setting class against class! That is the very parrot prattle that we have so long 1855. ADMINISTRATIVE REFORM. BSI heard! ‘Try its justice by the following example :—A re- spectable 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, tum- bled 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. 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 extra- ordinary 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 itis our own business we mind when we come forward in this way, and it is to prevent it from being mis- managed by them. I observe from the Parliamentary de- bates—which have of late, by-the-bye, frequently suggested to me that there is this difference between the bull of Spain and the bull of Nineveh, that, whereas, in the Spanish case, Q—2 132 CHARLES DICKENS'S SPEECHES, June 27, the bull rushes at the scarlet, in the Ninevite case, the scar- let rushes at the bull—I have observed from the Parlia- mentary 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 neces- sity 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 con- tradicted, but I consider it a work of supererogation ; for, if the people at large be not already convinced that a suffi- cient 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 revo- lutions of time, the celebrated Cocker was born, and died; ‘ Walkinghame, of the Tutors Assistant, and well versed in figures, was also born, and died; a multitude of account- ants, 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 Exche- quer 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. 1355. ADMINISTRATIVE REFORM. 133 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. 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, obsti- nately 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, 134 CHARLES DICKENS'S SPEECHES, June 27, 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 every- where: 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 f 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 publhe 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 manceuvres 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 num- bers of them belong to us, because I sincerely believe that it would be good for the common weal. | 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.” ‘‘ Now, in the names of all the gods at once, Upon what meat doth this our Cesar feed That he is grown So great?” If our Ceesar will excuse me, I would take the liberty of rss, ADMINISTRATIVE REFORM, £38 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.” DOV SHEFFIELD, DECEMBER 22, 18ss. [On Saturday Evening Mr. Charles Dickens read his Christmas Carol in the Mechanics’ Hall in behalf of the funds of the Institute. 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 asso- ciated in his mind with the name of that gentleman. ] ek. CHARLES DICKENS, in receiving the presenta- ‘4i] tion, said, he accepted with heartfelt delight and cordial gratitude such beautiful specimens of Shef- field 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 as- sembly, 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, Dec. 22, 185%. A GIFT FROM SHEFFIELD. 137 - should be retained as an heirloom in his family ; and he as- sured 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. ONAL LONDON, FEBRUARY 9, 1858. At the Anniversary Festival of the Hospital for Sick Children, on Tuesday, February the oth, 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 Hospi- tal. After the usual loyal and other toasts, the Chairman, Mr. Dickens, proposed ‘‘ Prosperity to the Hospital for Sick Children,” and said :—] (ai ADIES AND GENTLEMEN, —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 considera- tion, 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 amongmen. 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 Feb. 9, 1858. SICK CHILDREN. 139 we have an interest in them; indeed, I have observed since T sat down here that we are quite in a childlike state alto- gether, representing an infant institution, and not even yet a grown-up company. A few years are necessary to the in- crease 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. JI 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 mis- cellaneous 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 ma- ternal 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 z40 CHARLES DICKENS'S SPEECHES. Feb. 9, philosopher did this in very beautiful and lucid language, the philosopher's little boy, for his part, edified the assem- bled 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 princi- ples 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. But, ladies and gentlemen, the spoilt children whom I have to present to you after this dinner of to-day are not ct this class. I have glanced at these for the easier and lighter introduction of another, a very different, a far more nume- rous, 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 pre- served 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, ac- cording 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 1858, : SICK CHILDREN. r4t 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 ¢/ese spoilt children in the sacred names of Pity and Compassion. Some years ago, being in Scotland, I went with one of the most humane members of the humane medical profes- sion, 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 horri- ble 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, looking steadily at us. ‘There he lay in his little frail box, which was not at alla 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 142 CHARLES DICKENS'S SPEECHES, Feng; 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 ad- dressed his dumb speech to me, and I have always found him wondering what it meant, and why, in the name ofa gracious God, such things should be! 1858. SICK CHILDREN, T43 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 matried, 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 con- verted 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 convales- cents 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 beds’ heads, are pictures of the figure which is the unt- versal 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 grate- T44 CHARLES DICKENS'S SPEECHES, TCD. Oy ful 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 ereat need of it; to the immense difficulty of treating chil- dren 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 in- creased 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 Chil- dren’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 main- tained, 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. Now, ladies and gentlemen, this, without a word of adorn- ment—which I resolved when I got up not to allow myself —this is the simple case. This is the pathetic case which I 1858, SICK CHILDREN. 148 0) have to put to you; not only on behalf of the thousands of children who annually die in this great city, but also on be- half 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 can- not move you for themselves, how can I possibly hope to move you in theirname? ‘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, butnever 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 cer- tainly 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 your- selves in the Freemasons’ Hall, happily arrived at the end of a rather long speech, drinking “ Prosperity to the Hospi- tal for Sick Children,” and thoroughly resolved that it shall flourish. 10 XVIII, EDINBURGH, MARCH, 26, 1858. [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 Edin- ourgh presented him with a massive silver wassail cup, Mr. Dickens acknowledged the tribute as follows :] fern Y LORD PROVOST, ladies, and gentlemen, I beg Al) to assure you I am deeply sensible of your kind wel- come, 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 Edin- burgh. 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 remem- _ ‘brance of that eventful epoch in my life; and that coming back to Edinburgh is to me like coming home. March 36, 1858. CHARLES DICKENS AT EDINBURGH. 147 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, XIX. LONDON, MARCH 29, 1858. [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 :] ja) N our theatrical experience as playgoers we are all > 4 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 be- neath 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 March 29, 1858. THACKERAY, | 149 when I asked my old friend in the chair to allow me to pro- pose a toast I had him in my eye; and I have him now on my lips. Mit OF 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 melan- choly difference that he has no one to love. If this advan- tage 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. He, however, has many privileges. It is one of his privi- leges 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 re- 150 CHARLES DICKENS'S SPEECHES. March 29, 1858. markable 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 pre- sence of the noble English writer who fills the chair to-night. 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 may be 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 Vanity Fair. 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*.to exercise his potent art. To him fill a bumper toast, and fervently utter, God bless him ! | ** Alas! the ‘‘many years’”’ were to be barely six, when the speaker was himself destined to write some memorial pages commemorative of his illus- trious friend (Cornhill Magazine, February, 1864.)—Ep, 2 @seor LONDON, APRIL 29, 18538. [The reader will already have observed that in the Christmas week of 1853, and on several subsequent occasions, Mr. Dickens had read the Christmas Carol and the Chzmes 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 read- ing Mr, Dickens prefaced with the following speech :—] ma, ADIES AND GENTLEMEN,—It may perhaps be i 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 ob- jects, 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, JI have had little or no difficulty in de- ciding on the former course. ‘The reasons that have ledme to it—besides the consideration that it necessitates no de- parture whatever from the chosen pursuits of my life—are threefold: firstly, I have satisfied myself that it can involve 152 PUBLIC READINGS, April 29, 1858. 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. X XI. LONDON, MAY 1, 1858. [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 :—] Fea] OLLOWING the order of your toast, I have to take AES! the first part in the duet to be performed in acknow- ledgment 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 rela- tions, 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, DOT LONDON, sa Ry 2151853. [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 fol- lowing speech :] gaa ADIES AND GENTLEMEN,—I think I may ven- i ture 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 | 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 July er, 1859. DRAMATIC COLLEGE. 188 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. Ladies and gentlemen, the resolution entrusted to me is: “That the Report of the provisional committee be adopted, and that this meeting joyfully accepts, and grate- fully acknowledges, the gift of five acres of land referred to in the said Report.”* 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. In reference to this, I could not but reflect, whilst Mr. Kean was speaking, that in an hour or two from this time, * 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, (Communicated.) 156 CHARLES DICKENS'S SPEECHES. July 21, 1858. the spot upon which we are now assembled will be trans- formed 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 beau- tifully 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. 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 reso- lution which I have already had the pleasure of reading. x CULT MANCHESTER, DECEMBER 3, 1858. [The following speech was delivered at the annual meeting of the Institu- tional Association of Lancashire and Cheshire, held in the Free-trade Hall on the evening of the above day, at which Mr. Dickens presided. ] @es) L has of late years become noticeable in England that j| 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. _ The autumn having gone, and the winter come, I am so sanguine as to hope that we in our proceedings may break 158 CHARLES DICKENS'S SPEECHES, Dec. 3, through this enchanted circle and deviate from this prece- dent; the rather as we have something real to do, and are come together, I am sure, in all plain fellowship and straight- forwardness, 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. 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 em- bodied 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, “ Me- chanics’ 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. ) 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 r85o. . ASSOCIA TION, 159 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 ex- cellent books, called ‘‘ Free Itinerating Libraries.” I learned that these books are constantly making the circuit of hun- dreds 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 Lanca- ‘shire 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. — Now, ladies and gentlemen, this is the main consideration that has brought me here. No central association at a dis- tance 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 160 CHARLES DICKENS SPELCHES. Dec. 3, mine in another to you. Yet this is distinctly a feature, and a most important feature, of this society. 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 them- selves. 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. 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 exami- nation it takes the charge and arranges the details, and in- vites the successful candidates to come to Manchester to receive the prizes and certificates of merit which it impar- tially 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. . I have looked over a few of those examination papers, which have comprised history, geography, grammar, arith- metic, book-keeping, decimal coinage, mensuration, mathe- matics, 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 1858, LEARNERS AND WORKERS. 161 to bestow upon myself to-night. And yet it is always to be observed and seriously remembered that these examina- tions 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 ‘* Those twin gaolers of the daring heart—~ Low birth and iron fortune.’’* 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. 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 at- tend the classes in which they have gained distinction. There are two poor boys from Bollington, who began 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 com- petition three times as severe. There is a wagon-maker from the same place, who knew little or absolutely * Claude Melnotte in The Lady of Lyons, Act ills Sc. 2. If 162 CHARLES DICKENS'S SPEECHES. Dec. 3, nothing until he was a ‘grown man, and who has learned all he knows, which is a great deal, in the local institu- tion. There is a chain-maker, in very humble circum- stances, 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 morn- ing to learn drawing. ‘The thought of my lads,” he writes in his modest account of himself, “in their peaceful slum- bers 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 under- stand 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: *Toiling, rejoicing, sorrowing, Onward through life he goes ; Each morning sees some task begun, Each evening sees its close. Something attempted, something done, Has earn'd a night’s repose.” 1858. SELE-TAUGHT MEN. 16: 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 weav- ing 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 col- lection 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. | So stimulating has been the influence of these bright examples, and many more, that I notice among the appli- cations from Blackbur 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, II—2 104 CHARLES DICRENS'S SPEECHES. Déc. 3: that if 1 were a working bachelor of Lancashire cr 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. 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 num- ber 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 suc- cess; and that there can be but one heart beating be- tween 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 trustful- ness, and, above all, perfect independence, x858, SCIENCE AND IMAGINATION 165 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 re- spect 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. 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 165 CHARLES DICKENS'S SPEECHES. Dec. 3, 1853. day knowledge which can be proved upon a slate or demon- strated by a microscope—do not let us, in the laudable pur- suit 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 man- kind. 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. XXIV. COVENTRY, DECEMBER 4,. 1858. [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 acknowledged the testimonial in the following words :] Fert R. CHAIRMAN, Mr. Vice-chairman, and Gentlemen, A¥d i —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 acknow- ledgment 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 un- affected, so earnest, and’so true. Furthermore, your Chair. man 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 im- pertinence. Therefore I will at once say how earnestly, how fervently, 168 CHARLES DICKENS'S SPEECHES. Dec. 4, 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 wander- ings 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 com- municating Greenwich time to Coventry Street, Japan. 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 men- tion of the name of Coventry without having inspired in-my breast sentiments of unusual emotion and unusual attachment. [Later in the evening, in proposing the health of the Chairman, Mr. Dickens said :] THERE 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. In my ignorance of the subject, I am bound to say that it 1858, A CLAY FARMER, 169 may be, for anything I know, indeed I am ready to admit that it zs, exceedingly important that a clay farm should go for a number of years to waste; but Iclaim some know- ledge as to the management of a clay farmer, and I posi- _ tively 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. OW LONDON, MARCH 29, 1862. (At a Dinner of the Artists’ General Benevolent Institution, the following Address was delivered by Mr. Charles Dickens from the chair i] fos) EVEN or eight years ago, without the smallest expec- tation of ever being called upon to fill the chair at an anniversary festival of the Artists’ General Bene- volent Institution, and without the remotest reference to such an occasion, I selected the administration o: 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. Asa proof of the latter quality during the past year, the cost of distributing £1,126 among the reci- pients of the bounty of the Charity amounted to little more 170 CHARLES DICKENS'S SPEECHES. March 209, 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 avail- able farthing of the funds will be distributed among proper and deserving recipients. Claiming, on my part, to be re- lated 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 trustful- ness, 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 reason- able 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 no- tice 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 1862. ARTISTS BENEVOLENT INSTITUTION. rt 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 de- serving 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. MPG N ills LONDON, MAY 20, 1862. [The following speech was made by Mr. Dickens, in his capacity as chair- man, al the annual Festival of the Newsvendors’ and Provident Institution, held at the Freemasons’ Tavern on the above date. | EQGALLEN I had the honour of being asked to preside last A} year, I was prevented by indisposition, and I be- sought 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. The Chairman last year presented you with an amiable view Of the universality of the newsman’s calling. Nothing, 1862.. THE NEWSMAN’S BURDEN. eve 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 sun- shine 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 aview 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 imme- ‘diately 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. Iam 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 mys- terious 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 174 CHARLES DICKENS'S SPEECHES. May 20, 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 sur- geons of experience, and that they are all Ar 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 im- possibly 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 ora 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 trades- man on his own door-step, that little incident will not affect the testimonials to my character, but that I shall be de- scribed 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 news- man’s shoulder, it gives a comprehensive knowledge of what 1862. UBIQUITY OF THE NEWSMAN, 178 is going on over the continent of Europe, and also ot what is going on over the continent of America, to say nothing of such little geographical regions as India and China. 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 news- man 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 hew 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 indi- gence. ‘The subscription is infinitesimal. It amounts an- nually 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 in- terest on the funded capital, and, therefore, the Institution is literally as safe as the Bank. It is stated that there are sevetal 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. POA ay LONDON, MAY 11, 1864. [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 follow- lowing address :] yee, ADIES AND GENTLEMEN—Fortunately for me, Yi and fortunately for you, it is the duty of the Chair- man 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 open- ing 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. 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, 1864. DRAMATIC COLLEGE SCHOOLS. 177 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 Dra- matic College, which is a place of honourable rest and re- pose 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 * under whose roof we are assem- bled, 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 Dra- matic College are built, completely furnished, fitted with * Mr. B. Webster. I2 178 CHARLES DICKENS'S SPEECHES. May ry, 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 pro- ceed 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 justand reasonable claim to participate in the results of any subscription for a monument to Shakespeare. Ile repre- sented 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 com- mittee that it was certainly a sensible, tangible project, which the public good sense would immediately appreciate and approve. ‘This claim the committee at once acknow- ledged; 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. 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 belong- ing 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 1864. °° THE ACTOR'S VOCATION. + 179 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 pro- posed evermore to give their schools the great name of Shakespeare, and evermore to give the followers of Shake- speare’s art a prominent place in them. With this view, it is confidently believed that the public will endow a foun- dation, 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 under- stand, 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 puplic school. 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 remem- brance of anoble 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 unquestion- ably find its account init. 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 yenture 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 hejfollows 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 I2—2 180 CHARLES DICKENS'S SPEECHES. May 11, 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 hfe. 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. Per- sons 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 lan- guish in that market’s over-rich superabundance. This project has received the support of the head of the most popular of our English public schools. On the com- mittee stands the name of that eminent scholar and gentle- man, 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 1864. PRIVATE AND PUBLIC SCHOOLS. 181 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 ad- vantage is now to be found. Ihave now done. The attempt has been a very timid one. J 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 Kittle 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. XXVIII. LONDON, MAY og, 1865. [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. | are, ADIES AND GENTLEMEN,—Dr. Johnson’s expe- yi rxience of that club, the members of which have travelled over one another’s minds in every direc- tion, 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 May 9, 196s. ORATORICAL DIFFICULTIES. 183 again followed by exactly the same field, under exactly the same circumstances, next Easter Monday. 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: con- dition, 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 nosuchchance. Just asa 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, unob- trusive, useful career. JI 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 un- timely hours, in all seasons, and in all weathers; at their 184 CHARLES DICKENS'S SPEECHES, May a, own doors, at the street-corners, at every railway train, at every steam-boat; through the agency of every establish- ment and the tiniest little shops; and that, whether re- ° garded as master or as man, their profits are very modest and their risks numerous, while their trouble and responsi- bility are very great. 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. 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. CHARLES DICKENS'S SPEECHES. May 8, ever, and the spent and worn-out wagoner lies lifeless by the roadside. ‘“‘ Ladies and Gentlemen, I most particularly wish to im- press on you the strength of this appeal. JI ama 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.” This is the case with the Artists’ Benevolent Fund, and in stating this Iam 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 my- self 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. When I add that this Benevolent Fund makes no pre- tensions 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. 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 1858. MAlISTS BENEVOLENT FUND. 301 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 com- munity. I am strongly disposed to believe there are very few debates in Parliament so important to the public wel- fare 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 meri- torious engraving. Ata highly interesting annual festival at which I have the honour to assist, and which takes place behind two fountains, I sometimes observe that great minis- ters 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 West- minster 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. eb Lie DARE W Pik be iit a J ee ST. JAMES’S HALL, MARCH 13, 1870. [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 unexam- pled in numbers, the source of the highest inteliectual 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, March 15, 1870. THE FAREWELL READING. 303 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 :—] w= ADIES AND GENTLEMEN,—It would be worse i) than idle—for it would be hypocritical and unfeel- ing—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 im- bued 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 stimu- lating 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 gentle- men, 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 ;* but from these garish lights I vanish now for evermore, with a_heart- felt, grateful, respectful, and affectionate farewell. [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. | * Alluding to the forthcoming serial story of Edwin Dood. CLI. THE NEWSVENDORS' INSTITUTION, ices Jeera LONDON, APRIL 5, 1870. |The annual dinner in aid of the funds of the Newsvendors’ Benevolent and Provident Institution was held on the above evening, at the Free- mason’s Tavern. Mr. Charles Dickens presided, and was supported by the Sheriffs of the City of London and Middlesex. . After the usual toasts had been given and responded to, 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 Lendon being snubbed. He begged to give the toast of ‘‘The Corporation of the City of London,” 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 cf 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 April §, 1870. THE NEWSVENDORS INSTITUTION. 395 felt himself quitea Lord Mayor, he must have at least considered himself next to one. In proposing the toast of the evening Mr. Dickens said =] NCE ADIES AND GENTLEMEN,—You receive me ay 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. 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, 29 306 CHARLES DICKENS'S SPEECHES. April s, 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 news- man is not by any means in the habit of forgetting us, let us try to form a little habit of not forgetting ournewsman. 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 ex- posed 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 unrea- sonable requirements. 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 experi- ence and great acuteness, who was one of the company, con- siderably surprised us by saying with the greatest confidence that the passion in question was the passion of getting orders for the play. 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 1S70)6 | THE NEWSVENDORS INSTITUTION, 307 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. We 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 re- freshed, 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. This made a great impression on my mind, and If really lived in this faith until some years ago it happened upon a stormy night I was kindly escorted’ from a bleak railwa 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 excel- lent 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 determina- tion on the part of both men not to believe the time was up when the boy called. - 308 CHARLES DICKENS'S SPEECHES. April &, Laates 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 grate- fully received, and does a deal of good. Such as it is, it is most discreetly and feelingly administered; and it is en- cumbered with no wasteful charges for management or patronage. 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 470 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 1870. THE NEWSVENDORS. INSTITUTION, 309 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 men- tion 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. 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 sym- pathy and gain the support of the eminent man of letters I -am proud to call my friend,* 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-presi- dents the great name of Longfellow. I beg to propose to you to drink “ Prosperity to the Newsvendors’ Benevolent and Provident Institution.” * The Honourable John Lothrop Mctley, LGhG MACREADY. ee ) LONDON, MARCH 1, 1851. fOn 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 :—] ENTLEMEN,—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. 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 assem- bled. The first, and I must say very difficult requisite, is a March 1, 1851, MACREADY, 311 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. Many of those who now hear me were present, I daresay, at that memorable scene on Wednesday night last,* 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 in- quire whether our guest may or may not have looked back- ward, 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 reason- able disposition in the audience of Wednesday to seize upon the words— * February 26th, 1851. Mr. Macready’s Farewell Benefit at Drury oe Theatre, on which occasion he played the part of Macbeth.—EDp, 312 CHARLES DICKENS'S SPEECHES, March y, *‘And I have bought Golden opinions from all sorts of people, Which would be worn now in their newest gloss, Not cast aside so soon—’’* _ 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 some- thing besides the trustworthiness of an English crowd, and the delusion under which those labour who are apt to dis- parage 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 inter- mediate 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 con- sider, gentlemen, that no one who could possibly be placed in this chair could so well head that comprehensive repre- sentation, 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. 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 * MACBETH, Act L., sc, 7. 1867, MACREADY. oe of his pen with his earliest successes, or of Mr. Macready’s zealous and untiring services ; but 1t 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 con- descending to shuffle it off, and leave it outside state rooms, as a Mussulman might leave his slippers outside a mosque. 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 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 dis- parage its brightness, than Sir Edward Bulwer Lytton. 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 noton 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 litera- ture and the fine arts, and to soften, but by no eleemosynary means, the declining years of meritorious age. Andif 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 chair- man’s health, resting his claim probably upon some of his 314 CHARLES DICKENS'S. SPEECHES. March 1, 18st. 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 ‘those twin gaolers of the human heart, Low birth and iron fortune.” 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.” , Roan eS Nt)? Loa SA S) SI — By SS SIRE. LIV. meeNL TARY” REFORM, = O--— LONDON, MAY to, 1851. |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 :—] HERE 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, 316 CHARLES DICKENS'S SPEECHES, May Io, 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. I do not want authority for this opinion: you have heard the speech of the right reverend prelate* 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 foeetid 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 ]Jatent hopes of immortality? Heisso 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 * The Bishop of Ripon (are Longley), 18st. SANITARY REFORM. 317 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. 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 illustra- tion that no very great thing can ever be accomplished with- out an immense amount of abuse being heaped upon it. In connexion with the Board of Health we are always hearing avery 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.” J 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 exist- ence 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 combin- ing business habits, sound medical and social knowledge, and an earnest sympathy with the sufferings of the working classes. Another objection to the Board of Health is conveyed in 318 CHARLES DICKENS'S SPEECHES. May to, 185i. a word not so large as the other,—‘“ Delay.” JI would suggest, In respect to this, that it would be very unreason- able 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 ita going. One of the speakers this even- ing 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 occa- sions to face the cant which is the worst and commonest of all—the cant about the cant of philanthropy. LV e GARDENING. 0 SELON DON, JJ UN By 9.1861. [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 :—] “| FEEL 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 coun- tries 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— wo Kt oO CHARLES DICKENS'S SPEECHES. June 9, ‘© Trust me, Clara Vere de Vere, From yon blue heaven above us bent The gardener Adam and his wife Smile at the claims of long descent,” ~ 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 Provi- dent Institution for gardeners is in the fitness of things, and that such an institution ought to flourish and does flourish is still more so. 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 to- gether in Mr. Paxton’s favour—all have conspired together to one result, which, when the present generation is dust, 18st. GARDENING. | 321 will be an enduring temple to his honour, and to the energy, the talent, and the resources of Englishmen. “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 un- derstand 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 pro- posing his health, which that friend now does most cordially and with all the honours. at TOE ROYAL ACADEMY Gears : Ge big.e ra o> * Sark Deri aerate . Teas 4 oe pertn th : = Soa : ¢ eeeoee Barents ; Se en ae : : : Sen, a 2 Nee i * ieee eas a gt oO ee Ser Ete. ‘ é SPAN Re Seto ree ea . ; Make rea oe ee Ss Snes: BS Seen 2 aap EP icant - 2 Sees APR rem a eran eo ne — z Be A eal T= oe Peg a ae A Rn gE er a ~. : Ss Ss ~ : Minos SAS pane aise ns = oo > ‘o> Boe aS Saot : : 3 = Borg tirone? 3 * : : ee Senor: Ses erica ; ; TiS Saree iene : 2 ~ x Star pas Po re ae ee aie ee Sts