I cannot tell you how happy I was at this sudden change in my
situation. I felt no degradation, for I had seen too little of
society to be thoughtful about the differences of rank; and a boy
of sixteen is seldom aristocratical. I had given up no friend;
for there seemed to be no one in the world that cared for me, now
my poor mother was dead. I had given up no pleasure; for my
pleasure was to ramble about and indulge the flow of a poetical
imagination; and I now enjoyed it in perfection. There is no life
so truly poetical as that of a dancing buffoon.
It may be said that all this argued grovelling inclinations. I do
not think so; not that I mean to vindicate myself in any great
degree; I know too well what a whimsical compound I am. But in
this instance I was seduced by no love of low company, nor
disposition to indulge in low vices. I have always despised the
brutally vulgar; and I have always had a disgust at vice, whether
in high or low life. I was governed merely by a sudden and
thoughtless impulse. I had no idea of resorting to this
profession as a mode of life; or of attaching myself to these
people, as my future class of society. I thought merely of a
temporary gratification of my curiosity, and an indulgence of my
humors. I had already a strong relish for the peculiarities of
character and the varieties of situation, and I have always been
fond of the comedy of life, and desirous of seeing it through all
its shifting scenes.
In mingling, therefore, among mountebanks and buffoons I was
protected by the very vivacity of imagination which had led me
among them. I moved about enveloped, as it were, in a protecting
delusion, which my fancy spread around me. I assimilated to these
people only as they struck me poetically; their whimsical ways
and a certain picturesqueness in their mode of life entertained
me; but I was neither amused nor corrupted by their vices. In
short, I mingled among them, as Prince Hal did among his
graceless associates, merely to gratify my humor.
I did not investigate my motives in this manner, at the time, for
I was too careless and thoughtless to reason about the matter;
but I do so now, when I look back with trembling to think of the
ordeal to which I unthinkingly exposed myself, and the manner in
which I passed through it. Nothing, I am convinced, but the
poetical temperament, that hurried me into the scrape, brought me
out of it without my becoming an arrant vagabond.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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