I could not but be struck by the odd reversal of the usual
circumstances at the Mansion House, which he presented to our view,
for whereas it is a very common thing for persons to be brought
tremblingly before the Lord Mayor, the Lord Mayor presented himself
as being brought tremblingly before us. I hope that the result may
hold still further, for whereas it is a common thing for the Lord
Mayor to say to a repentant criminal who does not seem to have much
harm in him, “let me never see you here again,” so I would propose
that we all with one accord say to the Lord Mayor, “Let us by all
means see you here again on the first opportunity.” Gentlemen, I
beg to propose to you to drink, with all the honours, “The health
of the right hon. the Lord Mayor.”
SPEECH: LONDON, MAY 7, 1866.
[The Members of the Metropolitan Rowing Clubs dining together at
the London Tavern, on the above date, Mr. Dickens, as President of
the Nautilus Rowing Club, occupied the chair. The Speech that
follows was made in proposing “Prosperity to the Rowing Clubs of
London.” Mr. Dickens said that:-]
HE could not avoid the remembrance of what very poor things the
amateur rowing clubs on the Thames were in the early days of his
noviciate; not to mention the difference in the build of the boats.
He could not get on in the beginning without being a pupil under an
anomalous creature called a “fireman waterman,” who wore an
eminently tall hat, and a perfectly unaccountable uniform, of which
it might be said that if it was less adapted for one thing than
another, that thing was fire. He recollected that this gentleman
had on some former day won a King’s prize wherry, and they used to
go about in this accursed wherry, he and a partner, doing all the
hard work, while the fireman drank all the beer. The river was
very much clearer, freer, and cleaner in those days than these; but
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Dickens, Charles – Speeches, Literary & Social
he was persuaded that this philosophical old boatman could no more
have dreamt of seeing the spectacle which had taken place on
Saturday (the procession of the boats of the Metropolitan Amateur
Rowing Clubs), or of seeing these clubs matched for skill and
speed, than he (the Chairman) should dare to announce through the
usual authentic channels that he was to be heard of at the bar
below, and that he was perfectly prepared to accommodate Mr. James
Mace if he meant business. Nevertheless, he could recollect that
he had turned out for a spurt a few years ago on the River Thames
with an occasional Secretary, who should be nameless, and some
other Eton boys, and that he could hold his own against them. More
recently still, the last time that he rowed down from Oxford he was
supposed to cover himself with honour, though he must admit that he
found the “locks” so picturesque as to require much examination for
the discovery of their beauty. But what he wanted to say was this,
that though his “fireman waterman” was one of the greatest humbugs
that ever existed, he yet taught him what an honest, healthy, manly
sport this was. Their waterman would bid them pull away, and
assure them that they were certain of winning in some race. And
here he would remark that aquatic sports never entailed a moment’s
cruelty, or a moment’s pain, upon any living creature. Rowing men
pursued recreation under circumstances which braced their muscles,
and cleared the cobwebs from their minds. He assured them that he
regarded such clubs as these as a “national blessing.” They owed,
it was true, a vast deal to steam power – as was sometimes proved
at matches on the Thames – but, at the same time, they were greatly
indebted to all that tended to keep up a healthy, manly tone. He
understood that there had been a committee selected for the purpose
of arranging a great amateur regatta, which was to take place off
Putney in the course of the season that was just begun. He could