Speeches: Literary and Social | Page 3

all light and no shadows, and I began to doubt that beautiful book to
which I have turned again and again, always to find new beauties and
fresh sources of interest.
[In proposing the memory of the late Sir David Wilkie, Mr. Dickens
said:-]
Less fortunate than the two gentlemen who have preceded me, it is
confided to me to mention a name which cannot be pronounced without
sorrow, a name in which Scotland had a great triumph, and which
England delighted to honour. One of the gifted of the earth has passed
away, as it were, yesterday; one who was devoted to his art, and his art
was nature--I mean David Wilkie. {1} He was one who made the
cottage hearth a graceful thing--of whom it might truly be said that he
found "books in the running brooks," and who has left in all he did
some breathing of the air which stirs the heather. But however desirous
to enlarge on his genius as an artist, I would rather speak of him now as
a friend who has gone from amongst us. There is his deserted
studio--the empty easel lying idly by--the unfinished picture with its
face turned to the wall, and there is that bereaved sister, who loved him
with an affection which death cannot quench. He has left a name in
fame clear as the bright sky; he has filled our minds with memories
pure as the blue waves which roll over him. Let us hope that she who

more than all others mourns his loss, may learn to reflect that he died in
the fulness of his time, before age or sickness had dimmed his
powers--and that she may yet associate with feelings as calm and
pleasant as we do now the memory of Wilkie.

SPEECH: JANUARY, 1842.

[In presenting Captain Hewett, of the Britannia, {2} with a service of
plate on behalf of the passengers, Mr. Dickens addressed him as
follows:]
Captain Hewett,--I am very proud and happy to have been selected as
the instrument of conveying to you the heartfelt thanks of my
fellow-passengers on board the ship entrusted to your charge, and of
entreating your acceptance of this trifling present. The ingenious artists
who work in silver do not always, I find, keep their promises, even in
Boston. I regret that, instead of two goblets, which there should be here,
there is, at present, only one. The deficiency, however, will soon be
supplied; and, when it is, our little testimonial will be, so far, complete.
You are a sailor, Captain Hewett, in the truest sense of the word; and
the devoted admiration of the ladies, God bless them, is a sailor's first
boast. I need not enlarge upon the honour they have done you, I am
sure, by their presence here. Judging of you by myself, I am certain that
the recollection of their beautiful faces will cheer your lonely vigils
upon the ocean for a long time to come.
In all time to come, and in all your voyages upon the sea, I hope you
will have a thought for those who wish to live in your memory by the
help of these trifles. As they will often connect you with the pleasure of
those homes and fire sides from which they once wandered, and which,
but for you, they might never have regained, so they trust that you will
sometimes associate them with your hours of festive enjoyment; and,
that, when you drink from these cups, you will feel that the draught is
commended to your lips by friends whose best wishes you have; and
who earnestly and truly hope for your success, happiness, and
prosperity, in all the undertakings of your life.

SPEECH: FEBRUARY 1842.

[At dinner given to Mr. Dickens by the young men of Boston. The
company consisted of about two hundred, among whom were George
Bancroft, Washington Allston, and Oliver Wendell Holmes. The toast
of "Health, happiness, and a hearty welcome to Charles Dickens,"
having been proposed by the chairman, Mr. Quincy, and received with
great applause, Mr. Dickens responded with the following address:]
Gentlemen,--If you had given this splendid entertainment to anyone
else in the whole wide world--if I were to-night to exult in the triumph
of my dearest friend--if I stood here upon my defence, to repel any
unjust attack--to appeal as a stranger to your generosity and kindness as
the freest people on the earth--I could, putting some restraint upon
myself, stand among you as self-possessed and unmoved as I should be
alone in my own room in England. But when I have the echoes of your
cordial greeting ringing in my ears; when I see your kind faces beaming
a welcome so warm and earnest as never man had--I feel, it is