I remember Petroleum1 Vesuvius Nasby (Locke) very well. When the Civil War began he was on the staff of the Toledo Blade, an old and prosperous and popular weekly newspaper. He let fly a Nasby letter and it made a fine strike. He was famous at once. He followed up his new lead, and gave the Copperheads and the Democratic party a most admirable hammering every week, and his letters were copied everywhere, from the Atlantic to the Pacific, and read and laughed over by everybody--at least everybody except particularly dull and prejudiced Democrats2 and Copperheads. For suddenness, Nasby's fame was an explosion; for universality it was atmospheric3. He was soon offered a company; he accepted and was straightway ready to leave for the front; but the Governor of the state was a wiser man than were the political masters of K?rner and Pet?fi; for he refused to sign Nasby's commission and ordered him to stay at home. He said that in the field Nasby would be only one soldier, handling one sword, but at home with his pen he was an army--with artillery4! Nasby obeyed and went on writing his electric letters.
I saw him first when I was on a visit to Hartford; I think it was three or four years after the war. The Opera House was packed and jammed with people to hear him deliver his lecture on "Cussed be Canaan." He had been on the platform with that same lecture--and no other--during two or three years, and it had passed his lips several hundred times, yet even now he could not deliver any sentence of it without his manuscript--except the opening one. His appearance on the stage was welcomed with a prodigious5 burst of applause, but he did not stop to bow or in any other way acknowledge the greeting, but strode straight to the reading desk, spread his portfolio6 open upon it, and immediately petrified7 himself into an attitude which he never changed during the hour and a half occupied by his performance, except to turn his leaves--his body bent8 over the desk, rigidly9 supported by his left arm, as by a stake, the right arm lying across his back. About once in two minutes his right arm swung forward, turned a leaf, then swung to its resting-place on his back again--just the action of a machine, and suggestive of one; regular, recurrent, prompt, exact. You might imagine you heard it clash. He was a great, burly figure, uncouthly10 and provincially11 clothed, and he looked like a simple old farmer.
I was all curiosity to hear him begin. He did not keep me waiting. The moment he had crutched12 himself upon his left arm, lodged13 his right upon his back, and bent himself over his manuscript he raised his face slightly, flashed a glance upon the audience, and bellowed14 this remark in a thundering bull-voice:
"We are all descended15 from grandfathers!"
Then he went right on roaring to the end, tearing his ruthless way through the continuous applause and laughter, and taking no sort of account of it. His lecture was a volleying and sustained discharge of bull's-eye hits, with the slave power and its Northern apologists for target, and his success was due to his matter, not his manner; for his delivery was destitute16 of art, unless a tremendous and inspiring earnestness and energy may be called by that name. The moment he had finished his piece he turned his back and marched off the stage with the seeming of being not personally concerned with the applause that was booming behind him.
He had the constitution of an ox and the strength and endurance of a prize-fighter. Express trains were not very plenty in those days. He missed a connection, and in order to meet this Hartford engagement he had traveled two-thirds of a night and a whole day in a cattle car--it was midwinter. He went from the cattle car to his reading desk without dining; yet on the platform his voice was powerful and he showed no signs of drowsiness17 or fatigue18. He sat up talking and supping with me until after midnight, and then it was I that had to give up, not he. He told me that in his first season he read his "Cussed be Canaan" twenty-five nights a month for nine successive months. No other lecturer ever matched that record, I imagine.
He said that as one result of repeating his lecture 225 nights straight along, he was able to say its opening sentence without glancing at his manuscript; and sometimes even did it, when in a daring mood. And there was another result: he reached home the day after his long campaign, and was sitting by the fire in the evening, musing19, when the clock broke into his revery by striking eight. Habit is habit, and before he realized where he was he had thundered out, "We are all descended from grandfathers!"
I began as a lecturer in 1866, in California and Nevada; in 1867 lectured in New York once and in the Mississippi Valley a few times; in 1868 made the whole Western circuit; and in the two or three following seasons added the Eastern circuit to my route. We had to bring out a new lecture every season, now (Nasby with the rest), and expose it in the "Star Course," Boston, for a first verdict, before an audience of 2,500 in the old Music Hall; for it was by that verdict that all the lyceums in the country determined20 the lecture's commercial value. The campaign did not really begin in Boston, but in the towns around. We did not appear in Boston until we had rehearsed about a month in those towns and made all the necessary corrections and revisings.
This system gathered the whole tribe together in the city early in October, and we had a lazy and sociable21 time there for several weeks. We lived at Young's Hotel; we spent the days in Redpath's Bureau, smoking and talking shop; and early in the evenings we scattered22 out among the towns and made them indicate the good and poor things in the new lectures. The country audience is the difficult audience; a passage which it will approve with a ripple23 will bring a crash in the city. A fair success in the country means a triumph in the city. And so, when we finally stepped on to the great stage at the Music Hall we already had the verdict in our pocket.
But sometimes lecturers who were "new to the business" did not know the value of "trying it on the dog," and these were apt to come to the Music Hall with an untried product. There was one case of this kind which made some of us very anxious when we saw the advertisement. De Cordova--humorist--he was the man we were troubled about. I think he had another name, but I have forgotten what it was. He had been printing some dismally25 humorous things in the magazines; they had met with a deal of favor and given him a pretty wide name; and now he suddenly came poaching upon our preserve and took us by surprise. Several of us felt pretty unwell--too unwell to lecture. We got outlying engagements postponed26 and remained in town. We took front seats in one of the great galleries--Nasby, Billings, and I--and waited. The house was full. When De Cordova came on he was received with what we regarded as a quite overdone27 and almost indecent volume of welcome. I think we were not jealous, nor even envious28, but it made us sick, anyway. When I found he was going to read a humorous story--from manuscript--I felt better and hopeful, but still anxious. He had a Dickens arrangement of tall gallows29 frame adorned30 with upholsteries, and he stood behind it under its overhead row of hidden lights. The whole thing had a quite stylish31 look and was rather impressive. The audience was so sure that he was going to be funny that they took a dozen of his first utterances32 on trust and laughed cordially--so cordially, indeed, that it was very hard for us to bear--and we felt very much disheartened. Still, I tried to believe he would fail, for I saw that he didn't know how to read. Presently the laughter began to relax; then it began to shrink in area; and next to lose spontaneity; and next to show gaps between; the gaps widened; they widened more; more yet; still more. It was getting to be almost all gaps and silence, with that untrained and unlively voice droning through them. Then the house sat dead and emotionless for a whole ten minutes. We drew a deep sigh; it ought to have been a sigh of pity for a defeated fellow craftsman33, but it was not---for we were mean and selfish, like all the human race, and it was a sigh of satisfaction to see our unoffending brother fail.
He was laboring34 now, and distressed35; he constantly mopped his face with his handkerchief, and his voice and his manner became a humble36 appeal for compassion37, for help, for charity, and it was a pathetic thing to see. But the house remained cold and still, and gazed at him curiously38 and wonderingly.
There was a great clock on the wall, high up; presently the general gaze forsook39 the reader and fixed40 itself upon the clock face. We knew by dismal24 experience what that meant; we knew what was going to happen, but it was plain that the reader had not been warned and was ignorant. It was approaching nine now--half the house watching the clock, the reader laboring on. At five minutes to nine, twelve hundred people rose, with one impulse, and swept like a wave down the aisles41 toward the doors! The reader was like a person stricken with a paralysis42; he stood choking and gasping43 for a few minutes, gazing in a white horror at that retreat, then he turned drearily44 away and wandered from the stage with the groping and uncertain step of one who walks in his sleep.
The management were to blame. They should have told him that the last suburban45 cars left at nine and that half the house would rise and go then, no matter who might be speaking from the platform. I think De Cordova did not appear again in public.
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1
petroleum
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| n.原油，石油 | |
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2
democrats
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| n.民主主义者，民主人士( democrat的名词复数 ) | |
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atmospheric
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| adj.大气的，空气的；大气层的；大气所引起的 | |
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artillery
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| n.(军)火炮，大炮；炮兵(部队) | |
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prodigious
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| adj.惊人的，奇妙的；异常的；巨大的；庞大的 | |
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6
portfolio
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| n.公事包；文件夹；大臣及部长职位 | |
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petrified
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| adj.惊呆的；目瞪口呆的v.使吓呆，使惊呆；变僵硬；使石化(petrify的过去式和过去分词) | |
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8
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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rigidly
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| adv.刻板地，僵化地 | |
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uncouthly
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provincially
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| adv.外省地，地方地 | |
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crutched
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| 用拐杖支持的，有丁字形柄的，有支柱的 | |
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lodged
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| v.存放( lodge的过去式和过去分词 )；暂住；埋入；（权利、权威等）归属 | |
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14
bellowed
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| v.发出吼叫声，咆哮（尤指因痛苦）( bellow的过去式和过去分词 )；（愤怒地）说出（某事），大叫 | |
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descended
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| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
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destitute
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| adj.缺乏的；穷困的 | |
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drowsiness
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| n.睡意；嗜睡 | |
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fatigue
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| n.疲劳，劳累 | |
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19
musing
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| n. 沉思，冥想 adj. 沉思的, 冥想的 动词muse的现在分词形式 | |
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determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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sociable
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| adj.好交际的，友好的，合群的 | |
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22
scattered
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| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
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ripple
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| n.涟波，涟漪，波纹，粗钢梳；vt.使...起涟漪，使起波纹； vi.呈波浪状，起伏前进 | |
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24
dismal
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| adj.阴沉的，凄凉的，令人忧郁的，差劲的 | |
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dismally
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| adv.阴暗地，沉闷地 | |
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26
postponed
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| vt.& vi.延期，缓办，（使）延迟vt.把…放在次要地位；[语]把…放在后面（或句尾）vi.（疟疾等）延缓发作（或复发） | |
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overdone
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| v.做得过分( overdo的过去分词 )；太夸张；把…煮得太久；（工作等）过度 | |
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envious
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| adj.嫉妒的，羡慕的 | |
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gallows
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| n.绞刑架，绞台 | |
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adorned
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| [计]被修饰的 | |
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stylish
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| adj.流行的，时髦的；漂亮的，气派的 | |
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utterances
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| n.发声( utterance的名词复数 )；说话方式；语调；言论 | |
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craftsman
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| n.技工，精于一门工艺的匠人 | |
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laboring
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| n.劳动，操劳v.努力争取(for)( labor的现在分词 )；苦干；详细分析；（指引擎）缓慢而困难地运转 | |
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distressed
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| 痛苦的 | |
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humble
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| adj.谦卑的，恭顺的；地位低下的；v.降低，贬低 | |
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compassion
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| n.同情，怜悯 | |
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curiously
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| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
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39
forsook
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| forsake的过去式 | |
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40
fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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41
aisles
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| n. (席位间的)通道, 侧廊 | |
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42
paralysis
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| n.麻痹(症)；瘫痪(症) | |
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gasping
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| adj. 气喘的, 痉挛的 动词gasp的现在分词 | |
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44
drearily
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| 沉寂地，厌倦地，可怕地 | |
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45
suburban
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| adj.城郊的，在郊区的 | |
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