New England -- Social life and customs -- Fiction; Short stories, American
I was now far from my native place, but had not yet stepped before the
public. A slight tremor seized me whenever I thought of relinquishing
the immunities of a private character, and giving every man, and for
money too, the right which no man yet possessed, of treating me with
open scorn. But about a week after contracting the above alliance I
made my bow to an audience of nine persons, seven of whom hissed me in
a very disagreeable manner, and not without good cause. Indeed, the
failure was so signal that it would have been mere swindling to retain
the money, which had been paid on my implied contract to give its value
of amusement. So I called in the doorkeeper, bade him refund the whole
receipts, a mighty sum and was gratified with a round of applause by
way of offset to the hisses. This event would have looked most horrible
in anticipation,—a thing to make a man shoot himself, or run amuck, or
hide himself in caverns where he might not see his own burning blush;
but the reality was not so very hard to bear. It is a fact that I was
more deeply grieved by an almost parallel misfortune which happened to
my companion on the same evening. In my own behalf I was angry and
excited, not depressed; my blood ran quick, my spirits rose buoyantly,
and I had never felt such a confidence of future success and
determination to achieve it as at that trying moment. I resolved to
persevere, if it were only to wring the reluctant praise from my
enemies.
Hitherto I had immensely underrated the difficulties of my idle trade;
now I recognized that it demanded nothing short of my whole powers
cultivated to the utmost, and exerted with the same prodigality as if I
were speaking for a great party or for the nation at large on the floor
of the Capitol. No talent or attainment could come amiss; everything,
indeed, was requisite,—wide observation, varied knowledge, deep
thoughts, and sparkling ones; pathos and levity, and a mixture of both,
like sunshine in a raindrop; lofty imagination, veiling itself in the
garb of common life; and the practised art which alone could render
these gifts, and more than these, available. Not that I ever hoped to
be thus qualified. But my despair was no ignoble one; for, knowing the
impossibility of satisfying myself, even should the world be satisfied,
I did my best to overcome it; investigated the causes of every defect;
and strove, with patient stubbornness, to remove them in the next
attempt. It is one of my few sources of pride, that, ridiculous as the
object was, I followed it up with the firmness and energy of a man.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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