Adoption -- Fiction; England -- Fiction; Social classes -- England -- Fiction
"Dearest President of the only college where they teach
sweet thoughts and gracious manners and nothing else--where
they have only one professor, who is the president and
the chaplain and all the lecturers--I have not seen you
for so long a time that I am ashamed. Now I am going to
tell you why. I must make confession, and then I must ask
your advice. I can do this much better by writing than
by talking, so that I will write first and we will talk
afterwards. I have to tell you most unexpected things, and
most wonderful events. They are full of temptations and
quandaries.
"First, for my confession. Your ambition for me has been
that I should be ambitious for myself. I have done my
best to meet your wish; I have tried to be ambitious in
the best way--your way. You thought that I might make a
serious attempt at serious acting--that I might become a
queen of tragedy. Alas! I have felt for some time that I
must abandon the attempt. I cannot portray the emotions,
I cannot feel the emotions, of tragedy; my nature is too
shallow; I cannot realize a great passion. I only know
that it must produce in voice, and face, and speech, and
gesture, changes and indications that cannot be taught.
As for me, when I try, I become either stilted or wooden.
The passion does not seize me and possess me. Ambition, of
a kind, is not wanting. I like to imagine myself a great
actress, sweeping across the stage with a velvet train; I
like to think of the people rising and applauding; but, as
for the part, I am not moved at all. I think about nothing
but myself. If I look in the glass, I am told that I have
not the face for tragedy. If I begin to declaim, I cannot
feel the words. I am just like the young man who kept
on dreaming that he was a great poet, until he made the
disagreeable discovery that in order to be a great poet
it is absolutely necessary to write great poems. My dear
Hilarie, I must put a stop to this attempt at once. I have
been a burden to you for five long years. Let me not load
you with more than is necessary. I don't say anything about
thanks, because you know--you know.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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