Recitations for the Social Circle. Selected and Original — Edition Insights

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In Category - Historical Psychological Social Fiction

Authors: Harvey, James Clarence, 1859-1917 [Compiler] Digital Source: Project Gutenberg Gutenberg Release Year: 2012 First Publication Year: Not confirmed

Key Word: Recitations Target Reader: Readers of public-domain and historical texts

Book Edition: Project Gutenberg digital edition Book Language: en

Edition facts

Words 72,724

Reading time 317 min

Text sections 12

Recitations for the Social Circle. Selected and Original — Edition Insights can be approached with a clearer sense of reading commitment from its source measurements: 72,724 words, 5 hr 17 min estimated reading time, and 12 detected text sections.

The text analysis averages about 19.1 words per sentence, while the detected sections provide another way to judge how the source is divided.

Project Gutenberg metadata also associates the work with “Recitations,” connecting these edition facts with the source record’s subject description.

Source: Project Gutenberg record #38579

Harvey's 1896 anthology pairs a performance manual with 12 varied recitations, including a comic domestic scene where a father's outrage over love letters is undercut by a twist involving his own romantic past.

Editorial Edition Score 4.8/5

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Description quality20 pts
Title & short description10 pts
Source metadata20 pts
Text length15 pts
Chapters / structure15 pts
EPUB file integrity20 pts

Total of 100 points, scaled to a 2.5-5.0 range. Editions with an empty description or a missing EPUB file are not scored.

Edition quality

File: pg38579

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She was only one of the 'extra' girls, But you gave her a nickle to take the car, And said 'Heaven bless ye, my little one, Ye can pay me back ef ye ever star.'

"So you cast your bread on the waters then, And I pay you back, as my heart demands, And we're even now--no! not quite," she said, As she emptied her purse in his trembling hands. "And if ever you're needy and want a friend, You know where to come, for your little mite Put hope in my heart and made me strive To gain the success you have seen to-night."

Then the carriage stopped, at the old man's door, And the gas-light shone on him, standing there: And he stepped to the curb, as she rolled away, While his thin lips murmured a fervent prayer. He looked at the silver and bills and gold, And he said: "She gives all this to me? My bread has come back a thousandfold, God bless her! God bless all such as she!"

THE FRENCHMAN AND THE LANDLORD.

A shrewd and wealthy old landlord, away down in Maine, is noted for driving his "sharp bargains," by which he has amassed a large amount of property. He is the owner of a large number of dwelling-houses, and it is said of him that he is not over-scrupulous of his rental charges, whenever he can find a customer whom he knows to be responsible. His object is to lease his house for a term of years to the best tenants, and get the uttermost farthing in the shape of rent.

A diminutive Frenchman called on him last winter, to hire a dwelling he owned in Portland, and which had long remained empty. References were given, and the landlord, ascertaining that the tenant was a man "after his own heart," immediately commenced to "Jew" him. He found that the tenement appeared to suit the Frenchman, and he placed an exorbitant price upon it; the leases were drawn and duly executed, and the tenant removed into his new quarters.

Upon kindling fires in the house, it was found that the chimneys wouldn't "draw," and the building was filled with smoke. The window-sashes rattled in the wind at night, and the cold air rushed through a hundred crevices about the house until now unnoticed. The snow melted upon the roof, and the attics were drenched from the leakage. The rain pelted, and our Frenchman found a "natural" bathroom upon the second floor--but the lease was signed and the landlord chuckled.

"I have been vat you sall call 'tuck in,' vis zis _maison_," muttered our victim to himself a week afterwards, "but _n'importe_, ve sal se vat ve _sal_ see."

Next morning he arose bright and early, and passing down he encountered the landlord.

"Ah ha!--_Bon jour, monsieur_," said he in his happiest manner.

"Good day, sir. How do you like your house?"

"Ah monsieur--elegant, beautiful, magnificent. _Eh bien_, monsieur, I have ze one regret!"

"I sal live in zat house but tree little year."

"I have find by vot you call ze lease, zat you have give me ze house but for tree year, and I ver mooch sorrow for zat."

"But you can have it longer if you wish--"

"Ah, monsieur, sal be ver mooch glad if I can have zat house _so long as I please_--eh--monsieur?"

"Oh, certainly, certainly, sir."

"_Tres bien_, monsieur! I sal valk rite to your offees, and you sal give me vot you call ze lease for that _maison jes so long as I sal vant the house_. Eh, monsieur?"

"Certainly, sir. You can stay there your lifetime, if you like."

"Ah, monsieur--I have ver mooch tanks for zis accommodation."

The old lease was destroyed and a new one was delivered in form to the French gentleman, giving him possession of the premises for "such a period as the lessee may desire the same, he paying the rent promptly, etc."

The next morning our crafty landlord was passing the house just as the French-man's last load of furniture was being started from the door; an hour afterward, a messenger called on him with a legal tender, for the rent for eight days, accompanied with a note as follows:

"Monsieur--I have been smoke--I have been drouned--I have been frees to death, in ze house vat I av hire of you for ze period as I may desire. I have stay in ze house _jes so long as I please_, and ze bearer of zis vill give you ze key! _Bon jour_, monsieur."

It is needless to add that our landlord has never since been known to give up "a bird in the hand for one in the bush."

BY FRANCIS BRET HARTE, 1839.

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Harvey's introductory note to this 1896 collection is itself a performance—a compact manual on vocal delivery that warns against over-gesture and urges reciters to pursue 'the thought of the author' and 'the sentiments between the lines.' The advice is practical and specific: dialect pieces require a rare gift; a stout lady of fifty-two should avoid 'Marco Bozarris' and 'The Elf Child.' This editorial voice, direct and slightly schoolmasterly, frames the twelve selections that follow, which range from sentimental verse to comic prose. The excerpt from one such piece—a domestic comedy of misdirected letters—shows how Harvey's selections reward attention to pacing and vocal nuance, as the father's blustering outrage collapses into embarrassed silence.

The Reciter's Manual Embedded in the Note

Harvey's introductory note is not a perfunctory preface but a concentrated guide to oral interpretation. He insists that 'the quiet reserve force' of the voice reaches the heart where 'gesture and ranting fail.' The advice is hierarchical: self-possession first, then earnest desire to please, then fidelity to the author's words. He warns against altering lines—'the chances are ten to one that every word carries its burden of thought.' The note also reveals a social code: choose material suited to your age and appearance, and seek honest criticism from a dozen friends. This is a manual for the amateur performer in the parlor, not the stage.

A Comedy of Misread Letters and Generational Echoes

The excerpted recitation centers on a father, Mr. Richmond, who discovers love letters to his daughter Lucilla and reads them aloud with escalating scorn. His commentary—'bah! Nonsense,' 'Fiddlesticks,' 'Exaggeration, my dear'—creates a comic rhythm of parental indignation. The humor depends on the reciter's timing: the father's voice must shift from thunderous to flustered when he realizes the letters are his own, written twenty years earlier to his wife (also named Lucilla). The wife's confession—'I did it on purpose'—adds a final layer of domestic irony. The piece rewards a reciter who can modulate between bluster and deflation.

Pacing and the Architecture of Surprise

Harvey's selection builds its effect through a carefully delayed revelation. The father's reading of six letters is structured as a mini-performance: each letter escalates his outrage until he reaches the final sheet, which provokes a cry of 'Infamous!' and a threat of horsewhipping. The daughter's interruption—'that is not Fred's'—pivots the scene. The reciter must manage the pace of the reading, letting the father's indignation peak before the deflation. Harvey's own note advises that 'over-enthusiasm is less easily pardoned' than restraint; this piece exemplifies that principle, as the comic payoff depends on the audience's gradual realization before the characters' own.

Harvey's collection invites the reader to consider each piece not as a fixed text but as a script for vocal performance. The introductory note provides a framework for that work, emphasizing restraint, fidelity, and self-awareness. Readers may find it useful to read the selections aloud, attending to the shifts in tone and pace that Harvey's advice highlights. The comedy of the letter scene, in particular, rewards a careful ear for the father's changing register—from pompous reader to embarrassed husband.

There’s a particular ache in that 1896 recitation—the father raging about love letters, then meeting his own ghost in the mirror. It made me think of An Essay towards Fixing the True Standards of Wit, Humour, Railery, Satire, and Ridicule (1744) — Context and Discussion, and how some jokes just age into something quieter, almost tender.