The Sun.
London, England, 1863-04-22 00:00:00

READINGS BY CHARLES DICKENS.

" David Copperfield," in Six Chapters ; and
" Bob Sawyer's Party," from " Pickwick."
At the Hanover-square Rooms again last evening
some seven or eight hundred people hung spell-
bound for a couple of hours consecutively upon
words falling from the lips of Charles Dickens—
words long since familiar as " household words,' in
the mouths and hearts of the English people, and
yet words that, though thus familiar, never by any
chance pall by repetition ! Never, certainly, when
they are uttered by Mr. Dickens himself. As any-
one who lists may recognise upon any chance-
selected evening upon which one of these famous
Readings may be given by—him whom we still like
W speak of sometimes by his youthful sobri-
quet, as Boz. Constituting a rare intellectual treat
at all times, these Readings are especially re-
garded as such by the London (that we know for
a fact) and we believe also by the provin-
cial audiences no less, when they comprise
within them the Reading of Readings, viz.—these
wonderful six chapters from David Copperfield.
Those who have listened to Mr. Dickens reading the
Six Chapters, those who have watched him reading
them—for the play of his features no less than the
variation of hie voice commands the attention of all
those gathered together, whenever he stands at his
reading desk upon the platform—those who
nave themselves seen and heard Mr. Dickens
reading his Six Chapters from David Copper-
field will remember upon the instant with what
a perfect mastery he moves them at his
own whim at pleasure, now to laughter, now
to tears, Those who have not heard hire, those who
have not seen him, can form no glimmering notion
at all, of what these readings are in any way like,
from any mere passing description of them. The
alternations from the ludicrous to the pathetic, from
the exquisitely ludicrous to the e.equisitely pathetic,
are literally—at times—so instantaneous ! Never
more effectively pourtrayed than last night, were
the grief of Mr. Peggottyfor his lost Em'iy—or the
pretty little comical loves of Dora and Doady—or
the whimsical grandiloquence of Mr. Micawber,
perpetually ahem! interrupted by a momentary cough
of courteous deprecation—or, through the wondrous
word painting of those closing descriptions, the
awful sights and sounds of the Great Storm at Yar-
mouth, ending with the simultaneous death of honest
Ham and of that bright-eyed evil genius of the
story, James Steerforth. It needed the ten minutes
pause which followed the close of this foreshortened
history of " David Copperfield" to enable the
audience, as it were, to get well out of that tempes-
tuous atmosphere upon the Yarmouth flats, before
stepping with Mr. Pickwick and his friends
across the threshold of Mr. Bob Sawyer's
coey bachelor retreat at Lant-street, in the
Borough. Once there, however, even the
elegant audience, last night assembled in the
Hanover-square Rooms, were, as usual, fairly in for
it—meaning, for a succession of shouts of laughter.
Jack Hopkins's story of the bead necklace, his memo-
rable quarrel and eventual reconciliation afterwards
with the Young Gentleman with the Nice Sense of
Honour—Mrs. Raddle's spiteful altercations with
her afflicted lodger—her aboriginal slavey, the
Or ling, with a severe cold in the head—not a
point, not a touch, not an intonation, or a glance of
the eye, but told last night to the very uttermost.
It seems almost ungrateful, however, to have even
a passing thought thus to give to the remembrance
of Bob Sawyer's Party from " Pick wick"--bearing
in recollection, as we do, nevertheless, so much
more vividly, the far higher intellectual gratification
afforded to us by the genius of Mr. Dickens
through his marvellous declamation of those six
noble chapters from " David Copperfield."

A SMALL MAN (A PORTRAIT)—SKETCIIED BY
MADAME DE GIRARDIN.—He was 35 years of age,
4 feet 8 inches in height. Well to do in the world, his only
grievance was that ho was so small. From the time he had
left off growing, he had been uncomfortable. lie had tried
all sorts of experiments. A high hat, high-heeled boots, he
wt.s as upright as a giraffe, and he often raised himself on
the tip of his toes. Little men, who resign themselves to
their fate, are often very graceful. They possess some ad-
vantage in their make—such as suppleness, lightness,
activity—they may have a very genteel carriage. But
little men who revolt at the stinginess of nature towards
them, and fight foolishly with her, never can be graceful or
gentlemanly. When any one says of a wan who displeases
him that he has a good opinion of himself, " Well," say I,
" I know something worse than that—a man who looks
discontented with himself. You cannot please him any
way. You ask him to dinner—, No, thank you, to be just
to myself, lam too awkward for a cony ire.' You ask him
to a recitation or to music- No, thank you, lam too ob-
scure a person to make part of such a brilliant assembly.'
A party in the country— No, thank you, one wants gaiety
on these
r suited
toccasions.thanlnvitel
al lively" ey" people
man enjoys no-
thing, is e ; they will be
bete
fit for nothing. He is an imaginary leper, who
flies his kind. Happily this is a rare malady herein France.
In a salon, the little man we describe was pursued by one
idea—how he might place himself advantageously. He
avoided large men, because near them he appeared at his
smallest. He avoided beautiful women, because their ma-
jesty humiliated him ; but what he most of all disliked was
to meet with (what was rare) a man as small as himself.
Oh, then, indeed, he suffered martyrdom ?. Well, all this
was nothing ; there was torment more horrible than all his
other torments— a curse which pursued him—a fatality
which set the seal to all his misfortunes, and that was his
name I What do you think it was ? This little man's
name was M. Legrand."
The cuckoo was heard at Romsey, in Hants, on
Saturday last—nearly a week earlier than in ordinary sea-
sons. At Woolstone, in the same county, a famous rlace
for English song birds, thrushes commenced singing at the
beginning of FEbtuary, and the blackbirds are now in full
song.