) "I don't suppose, however, ladies
and gentlemen, that he's come here to talk about political economy."
This is meant as a jest, but the audience takes it as a threat.
"However, ladies and gentlemen, you haven't come here to listen to
me" (this evokes applause, the first of the evening), "so without
more ado" (the man always has the impression that there's been a lot
of "ado," but I never see any of it) "I'll now introduce Mr.
Leacock." (Complete silence.)
Nothing of which means the least harm. It only implies that the
Philosophical Society are true philosophers in accepting nothing
unproved. They are like the man from Missouri. They want to be shown.
And undoubtedly it takes a little time, therefore, to rouse them. I
remember listening with great interest to Sir Michael Sadler, who is
possessed of a very neat wit, introducing me at Leeds. He threw three
jokes, one after the other, into the heart of a huge, silent audience
without effect. He might as well have thrown soap bubbles. But the
fourth joke broke fair and square like a bomb in the middle of the
Philosophical Society and exploded them into convulsions. The process
is very like what artillery men tell of "bracketing" the object fired
at, and then landing fairly on it.
In what I have just written about audiences I have purposely been
using the word English and not British, for it does not in the
least apply to the Scotch.
Pages:
147
148
149
150
151
152
153
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171