once upon a time there was a young man of talent, whose stories were so good that the editor of the paper on which he was employed heard the professional humorist, who had been attached to the paper for twenty-eight years, ask the city editor, “what the deuce the old man meant by loading up the sunday supplement with all that stuff;” and the very next night the young man asked if he might sign his name to his special articles in the sunday paper. now this was a privilege which had never been accorded to anybody who knew how to write, and the editor was[pg 224] afraid to make an exception in favor of the young man for fear of bringing down upon his own head the wrath of the prize-fighters, skirt-dancers, prominent citizens, and other windbags who had always regarded signed articles as their special prerogative.
so he made answer that the signature was usually considered a badge of shame. but the young man persisted in his demand until the editor was forced to give way, and the following sunday the eyes of the professional humorist fell upon an article which bore the signature of the young man of talent, and which was sandwiched in between a graphic description of “how i slugged mcgonegal’s unknown,” by rocksey mcintyre, and “the spontaneity of medi?val art,” by professor stuffe.
a jealous, angry light gleamed in the eyes of the professional humorist, and he swore an awful oath to be revenged[pg 225] on the rival who had come into the field with a variety of humor that would inevitably put an end to his own calling—that of manufacturing “crisp paragraphs”—which he had pursued without interruption for more than a quarter of a century.
now the professional humorist belonged to the “association of old-time funny men,” to which nobody could gain admittance who was under fifty-five years of age or who had ever been guilty of an original piece of humor.
when one of the order wrote a crisp paragraph about a door being not a door when it happened to be ajar, it would become the duty of some fellow-member to quote it with the prefix: “billy jaggs of the blankburgh banner says—” and add some refined pleasantry of this sort: “billy’s mouth is usually ajar when the whisky-jug goes round. how is that for high, jaggsey, old boy?” and then the[pg 226] crisp paragraph would be “passed along” after the fashion prevalent in the old days when american humor was struggling for popular recognition.
so the professional humorist communicated with his fellow funny men, and told them that unless concerted measures were taken the old-fashioned crisp paragraphs would be relegated to the obscurity shared by other features of ante-bellum journalism; and, the funny men becoming alarmed, a general convention of the order was promptly called and as quickly assembled.
at this gathering of the comic writers various means whereby the young man of talent should be destroyed were discussed.
“it would be better,” said a hoary and solemn humorist, whose calling was indicated by a cane made in imitation of a length of stovepipe, with a handle of goat’s horn, “much better, i think, if we[pg 227] were to prevail upon him to enter society as a literary celebrity, and make a practice of attending kettledrums and receptions, where he will be encouraged by women to talk about his literary methods, and where he will be tempted to partake of the tea and cake and weak punch which have ruined so many brilliant careers. if, in addition to that, we can arrange with the society reporters to publish his name among ‘the well-known literary and artistic people present’ as often as possible, his descent will be swift and sure.”
“there is one thing necessary to make that combination invincible,” said a paragrapher whose sound logic and conservatism had long since gained for him the name of “the sage of schoharie”: “we must call the attention of somebody like mr. aldrich or mr. howells to his work, and induce him to express a favorable opinion of it. if mr. aldrich would only[pg 228] say that he has a ‘dainty style,’ or if mr. howells would praise him for his ‘subtle delineation of character,’ his book, which is coming out in a few weeks, would fall flat on the market. then, if he showed any signs of life after that, edmund gosse might administer the coup de grace with a favorable review in some english fortnightly.”
these measures having received the indorsement of every member of the union, it was resolved that they should be promptly carried through; but before the meeting adjourned the professional humorist arose and begged to be allowed to say a few words.
“i have no doubt,” he said, “that the course we have decided upon will result in driving this newcomer from the field of letters; but if it does not i have a plan in my head which has never failed yet. it has already, within my own memory, driven several of our most promising[pg 229] writers to the potter’s field, and if desperate measures become necessary we will try it, but only as a last resort.”
a year rolled by, and again the members of the union assembled for their annual convention.
as they passed through fourteenth street on their way to the hall of meeting, a sad-eyed, despondent figure stood on the sidewalk and endeavored to sell them lead-pencils at their own price. a smile of triumph lit up the face of the professional humorist as he directed the attention of his fellow-members to the mournful, ill-clad wretch on the curb-stone. “i told you my scheme would work,” he said.
it was even so. neither the kettledrums nor the commendations of the wiseacres of literature had had any effect on the young man of talent, who had gone steadily on with his work, unspoiled[pg 230] by feminine flattery, and heedless of the praise or commendations of the critics.
it was only when these attempts upon his reputation and popularity had failed that the professional humorist threw himself into the breach with a paragraph—which was given instant and wide publicity by the rest of the association—stating that the gifted young writer was the dickens of america.
and then the young man of talent tottered to his fall.
