Poor
stone lady! born to be enthroned under the gilded,
echoing dome of the new capitol, whither was she now to
drift? for what base purposes be ultimately broken up,
like an unseaworthy ship? and what should befall her
ill-starred artificer, standing with his thousand
francs on the threshold of a life so hard as that of
the unbefriended sculptor?
It was a subject often and earnestly debated by myself
and Pinkerton. In his opinion I should instantly
discard my profession. "Just drop it, here and now,"
he would say. "Come back home with me, and let's throw
our whole soul into business. I have the capital; you
bring the culture. DODD AND PINKERTON--I never saw
a better name for an advertisement; and you can't
think, Loudon, how much depends upon a name." On my
side I would admit that a sculptor should possess one
of three things--capital, influence, or an energy only
to be qualified as hellish. The first two I had now
lost; to the third I never had the smallest claim; and
yet I wanted the cowardice (or, perhaps it was the
courage) to turn my back on my career without a fight.
Pages:
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109