. Thereupon, not only was that
particular Reading prohibited, but, by the same wise mandate, all
thought of resuming the course, or even a portion of it, afterwards,
was as peremptorily interdicted. In one sense, it is only matter for
wistful regret, now, that that judicious interdict was so far removed,
three-quarters of a year afterwards, that the twelve Final Readings of
Farewell which were given at the St. James' Hall in the spring of 1870,
beginning on Tuesday, the 11th of January, and ending on Tuesday, the
15th of March, were' assented to as in any way reasonable.
That even these involved an enormous strain upon the system, was proved
to absolute demonstration by the statistics jotted down with the utmost
precision during the Readings, as to the fluctuations of the Reader's
pulse immediately before and immediately after each of his appearances
upon the platform, mostly two, but often three, appearances in a
single evening. The acceleration of his pulse has, to our knowledge,
upon some of these occasions been something extraordinary. Upon the
occasion of his last and grandest Reading of the Murder, for example,
as he stepped upon the platform, resolved, apparently, upon outdoing
himself, he remarked, in a half-whisper to the present writer,
just before advancing from the cover of the screen to the familiar
reading-desk, "I shall tear myself to pieces." He certainly never acted
with more impassioned earnestness--though never once, for a single
instant, however, overstepping the boundaries of nature. His pulse just
before had been tested, as usual, keenly and carefully, by his most
sedulous and sympathetic medical attendant. It was counted by him just
as keenly and carefully directly afterwards--the rise then apparent
being something startling, almost alarming, as it seemed to us under the
circumstances.
Those twelve Farewell Readings are all the more to be regretted now when
we come to look back at them, on our recalling to remembrance the fact
that then, for the first time since he assumed to himself the position
of a Public Reader professionally, Dickens consented to give a series of
Readings at the very period when he was producing one of his imaginative
works in monthly instalments. He appeared to give himself no rest
whatever, when repose, at any rate for a while, was most urgently
required. He seemed to have become his own taskmaster precisely at
the time when he ought to have taken the repose he had long
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