Murray, always so liberal in an age so ungrateful to
_his_ profession, have sacrificed something to this occasion? He,
that sacrifices so much, why not sacrifice to the grandeur of the Antique?
I was then in Edinburgh, or in its neighborhood; and one morning, at a
casual assembly of some literary friends, present Professor Wilson,
Messrs. J. F., C. N., L. C., and others, advocates, scholars, lovers of
classical literature, we proposed two resolutions, of which the first was,
that the news was too good to be true. That passed _nem. con._; and
the second resolution was _nearly_ passing, viz. that a judgment would
certainly fall upon Mr. Murray, had a second report proved true, viz. that
not the Antigone, but a burlesque on the Antigone, was what he meditated
to introduce. This turned out false; [l0] the original report was suddenly
revived eight or ten months after. Immediately on the heels of the promise
the execution followed; and on the last (which I believe was the seventh)
representation of the Antigone, I prepared myself to attend.
It had been generally reported as characteristic of myself, that in
respect to all coaches, steamboats, railroads, wedding-parties, baptisms,
and so forth, there was a fatal necessity of my being a trifle too late.
Some malicious fairy, not invited to my own baptism, was supposed to have
endowed me with this infirmity. It occurred to me that for once in my life
I would show the scandalousness of such a belief by being a trifle too
soon, say, three minutes.
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