Speeches: Literary and Social

THE FAREWELL READING. ST. JAMES'S HALL, MARCH 15, 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
unexampled in numbers, the source of the highest intellectual
enjoyment. Every portion of available space in the building was,
of course, last night occupied some time before the appointed hour;
but could the St. James's Hall have been specially enlarged for the
occasion to the dimensions of Salisbury Plain, it is doubtful
whether sufficient room would even then have been provided for all
anxious to seize the last chance of hearing the distinguished
novelist give his own interpretation of the characters called into
existence by his own creative pen. As if determined to convince
his auditors that, whatever reason had influenced his
determination, physical exhaustion was not amongst them, Mr.
Dickens never read with greater spirit and energy. His voice to
the last retained its distinctive clearness, and the transitions of
tone, as each personage in the story, conjured up by a word, rose
vividly before the eye, seemed to be more marvellous than ever.
The vast assemblage, hushed into breathless attention, suffered not
a syllable to escape the ear, and the rich humour and deep pathos
of one of the most delightful books ever written found once again
the fullest appreciation. The usual burst of merriment responsive
to the blithe description of Bob Cratchit's Christmas day, and the
wonted sympathy with the crippled child "Tiny Tim," found prompt
expression, and the general delight at hearing of Ebenezer
Scrooge's reformation was only checked by the saddening remembrance
that with it the last strain of the "carol" was dying away. After
the "Trial from Pickwick," in which the speeches of the opposing
counsel, and the owlish gravity of the judge, seemed to be
delivered and depicted with greater dramatic power than ever, the
applause of the audience rang for several minutes through the hall,
and when it had subsided, Mr. Dickens, with evidently strong
emotion, but in his usual distinct and expressive manner, spoke as
follows:-]

Ladies and gentlemen,--It would be worse than idle--for it would be
hypocritical and unfeeling--if I were to disguise that I close this
episode in my life with feelings of very considerable pain. For
some fifteen years, in this hall and in many kindred places, I have
had the honour of presenting my own cherished ideas before you for
your recognition, and, in closely observing your reception of them,
have enjoyed an amount of artistic delight and instruction which,
perhaps, is given to few men to know. In this task, and in every
other I have ever undertaken, as a faithful servant of the public,
always imbued with a sense of duty to them, and always striving to
do his best, I have been uniformly cheered by the readiest
response, the most generous sympathy, and the most stimulating
support. Nevertheless, I have thought it well, at the full flood-
tide of your favour, to retire upon those older associations
between us, which date from much further back than these, and
henceforth to devote myself exclusively to the art that first
brought us together. Ladies and gentlemen, in but two short weeks
from this time I hope that you may enter, in your own homes, on a
new series of readings, at which my assistance will be
indispensable; {23} but from these garish lights I vanish now for
evermore, with a heartfelt, 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.]