The fact is, I had attempted to give point to language which had no
point, and nature to scenes which had no nature. They said I did not
fill out my characters; and they were right. The characters had all
been prepared for a different sort of man. Our tragedy hero was a
round, robustious fellow, with an amazing voice; who stamped and
slapped his breast until his wig shook again; and who roared and
bellowed out his bombast, until every phrase swelled upon the ear like
the sound of a kettle-drum. I might as well have attempted to fill out
his clothes as his characters. When we had a dialogue together, I was
nothing before him, with my slender voice and discriminating manner. I
might as well have attempted to parry a cudgel with a small sword. If
he found me in any way gaining ground upon him, he would take refuge in
his mighty voice, and throw his tones like peals of thunder at me,
until they were drowned in the still louder thunders of applause from
the audience.
To tell the truth, I suspect that I was not shown fair play, and that
there was management at the bottom; for without vanity, I think I was a
better actor than he. As I had not embarked in the vagabond line
through ambition, I did not repine at lack of preferment; but I was
grieved to find that a vagrant life was not without its cares and
anxieties, and that jealousies, intrigues, and mad ambition were to be
found even among vagabonds.
Indeed, as I become more familiar with my situation, and the delusions
of fancy began to fade away, I discovered that my associates were not
the happy careless creatures I had at first imagined them.
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