gallant struggle that is made. To strive at all involves a victory
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achieved over sloth, inertness, and indifference; and competition
for these prizes involves, besides, in the vast majority of cases,
competition with and mastery asserted over circumstances adverse to
the effort made. Therefore, every losing competitor among my
hearers may be certain that he has still won much – very much – and
that he can well afford to swell the triumph of his rivals who have
passed him in the race.
I have applied the word “rewards” to these prizes, and I do so, not
because they represent any great intrinsic worth in silver or gold,
but precisely because they do not. They represent what is above
all price – what can be stated in no arithmetical figures, and what
is one of the great needs of the human soul – encouraging sympathy.
They are an assurance to every student present or to come in your
institution, that he does not work either neglected or unfriended,
and that he is watched, felt for, stimulated, and appreciated.
Such an assurance, conveyed in the presence of this large assembly,
and striking to the breasts of the recipients that thrill which is
inseparable from any great united utterance of feeling, is a
reward, to my thinking, as purely worthy of the labour as the
labour itself is worthy of the reward; and by a sensitive spirit
can never be forgotten.
[One of the prize-takers was a Miss Winkle, a name suggestive of
“Pickwick,” which was received with laugher. Mr. Dickens made some
remarks to the lady in an undertone; and then observed to the
audience, “I have recommended Miss Winkle to change her name.” The
prizes having been distributed, Mr. Dickens made a second brief
speech. He said:-]
The prizes are now all distributed, and I have discharged myself of
the delightful task you have entrusted to me; and if the recipients
of these prizes and certificates who have come upon this platform
have had the genuine pleasure in receiving their acknowledgments
from my hands that I have had in placing them in theirs, they are
in a true Christian temper to-night. I have the painful sense upon
me, that it is reserved for some one else to enjoy this great
satisfaction of mind next time. It would be useless for the few
short moments longer to disguise the fact that I happen to have
drawn King this Twelfth Night, but that another Sovereign will very
soon sit upon my inconstant throne. To-night I abdicate, or, what
is much the same thing in the modern annals of Royalty – I am
politely dethroned. This melancholy reflection, ladies and
gentlemen, brings me to a very small point, personal to myself,
upon which I will beg your permission to say a closing word.
When I was here last autumn I made, in reference to some remarks of
your respected member, Mr. Dixon, a short confession of my
political faith – or perhaps I should better say want of faith. It
imported that I have very little confidence in the people who
govern us – please to observe “people” there will be with a small
“p,” – but that I have great confidence in the People whom they
govern; please to observe “people” there with a large “P.” This
was shortly and elliptically stated, and was with no evil
intention, I am absolutely sure, in some quarters inversely
explained. Perhaps as the inventor of a certain extravagant
fiction, but one which I do see rather frequently quoted as if
there were grains of truth at the bottom of it – a fiction called
the “Circumlocution Office,” – and perhaps also as the writer of an
idle book or two, whose public opinions are not obscurely stated –
perhaps in these respects I do not sufficiently bear in mind
Hamlet’s caution to speak by the card lest equivocation should undo
me.
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Now I complain of nobody; but simply in order that there may be no
mistake as to what I did mean, and as to what I do mean, I will restate