England -- Social life and customs -- 19th century -- Fiction; Genealogy -- Fiction
'Hear, hear!' Faussett cried, languidly interested in the strange
experiment. 'Gillingham for a recitation!--You know, Mr. Plantagenet,
our friend Gillingham, the Born Poet, is celebrated as one of the finest
and most versatile reciters in all England.'
'What's he going to give us?' Mr. Plantagenet asked, endeavouring to
seem quite wide-awake, and to assume a carefully critical attitude.
'A piece from a forgotten author,' Gillingham answered with quiet
dignity. And then, mounting upon the table, and ensuring silence by a
look or two flung with impartial aim at the heads of all those who still
continued to talk or giggle, he began, in his clear, loud, sonorous
voice, to deliver with very effective rhetoric a flashy show-piece,
which he had long known by heart among his immense repertory, from the
'Collected Essays of Barry Neville.'
'But of all the terrible downfalls which this world encloses for the
eye of the attentive and observant spectator, what downfall, I ask, can
be more terrible or more ghastly than that inevitable decadence from
the golden hopes and aspirations of youth, to the dreary realities
and blasted ideals of dishonoured age? For the young man, this prosaic
planet floats joyously and lightly down a buoyant atmosphere of purpled
clouds; his exuberant fancy gilds the common earth as the dying sunlight
gilds the evening waters with broad streets and paths of refulgent
glory. To the old man, the sun itself has faded slowly, but hopelessly,
out of the twilight heavens: dark and murky fogs, risen from behind the
shadows of that unknown future, have obscured and disfigured with their
dark exhalations the bright imaginings of his joyous springtide: evil
habits, begun in the mere rush of youthful spirits, have clung to
and clogged the marred wings of his soul, till at last, disheartened,
disgraced, unhonoured and unfriended, he drifts gradually onward down
the unrelenting stream of the years to that final cataract where all his
hopes, alike of time and of eternity, are doomed to be finally wrecked
and confounded together in one unutterable and irretrievable ruin.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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