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- 5451
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- 2026-01-30T07:57:45.581Z
- extracted_by
- structure-extraction-lambda
- start_line
- 5384
- text
- so entirely departed as not to molest me with momentary returns. But
from these relapses I would rouse myself, and swiftly glance round
the broad amphitheatre of eagerly interested and all-applauding human
faces. Hark! claps, thumps, deafening huzzas; the vast assembly seemed
frantic with acclamation; and what, mused I, has caused all this? Why,
the clown only comically grinned with one of his extra grins.
Then I repeated in my mind that sublime passage in my poem, in which
Cleothemes the Argive vindicates the justice of the war. Ay, ay,
thought I to myself, did I now leap into the ring there, and repeat
that identical passage, nay, enact the whole tragic poem before them,
would they applaud the poet as they applaud the clown? No! They would
hoot me, and call me doting or mad. Then what does this prove? Your
infatuation or their insensibility? Perhaps both; but indubitably the
first. But why wail? Do you seek admiration from the admirers of a
buffoon? Call to mind the saying of the Athenian, who, when the people
vociferously applauded in the forum, asked his friend in a whisper,
what foolish thing had he said?
Again my eye swept the circus, and fell on the ruddy radiance of the
countenance of Hautboy. But its clear honest cheeriness disdained my
disdain. My intolerant pride was rebuked. And yet Hautboy dreamed not
what magic reproof to a soul like mine sat on his laughing brow. At the
very instant I felt the dart of the censure, his eye twinkled, his hand
waved, his voice was lifted in jubilant delight at another joke of the
inexhaustible clown.
Circus over, we went to Taylor's. Among crowds of others, we sat down
to our stews and punches at one of the small marble tables. Hautboy
sat opposite to me. Though greatly subdued from its former hilarity,
his face still shone with gladness. But added to this was a quality
not so prominent before; a certain serene expression of leisurely,
deep good sense. Good sense and good humor in him joined hands. As
the conversation proceeded between the brisk Standard and him--for I
said little or nothing--I was more and more struck with the excellent
judgment he evinced. In most of his remarks upon a variety of topics
Hautboy seemed intuitively to hit the exact line between enthusiasm and
apathy. It was plain that while Hautboy saw the world pretty much as it
was, yet he did not theoretically espouse its bright side nor its dark
side. Rejecting all solutions, he but acknowledged facts. What was sad
in the world he did not superficially gainsay; what was glad in it he
did not cynically slur; and all which was to him personally enjoyable,
he gratefully took to his heart. It was plain, then--so it seemed at
that moment, at least--that his extraordinary cheerfulness did not
arise either from deficiency of feeling or thought.
Suddenly remembering an engagement, he took up his hat, bowed
pleasantly, and left us.
"Well, Helmstone," said Standard, inaudibly drumming on the slab, "what
do you think of your new acquaintance?"
The last two words tingled with a peculiar and novel significance.
"New acquaintance indeed," echoed I. "Standard, I owe you a thousand
thanks for introducing me to one of the most singular men I have ever
seen. It needed the optical sight of such a man to believe in the
possibility of his existence."
"You rather like him, then," said Standard, with ironical dryness.
"I hugely love and admire him, Standard. I wish I were Hautboy."
"Ah? That's a pity now. There's only one Hautboy in the world."
This last remark set me to pondering again, and somehow it revived my
dark mood.
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