His large income came from the
other two kinds of pupils, the larger part of it from
the kind that had no seriousness in them. His problem
was how to keep all these paying pupils and also keep
his reputation as a teacher. In solving that problem
he evolved a method that was the true Jennings's method.
Not in all New York, filled as it is with people living
and living well upon the manipulation of the weaknesses
of their fellow beings--not in all New York was there
an adroiter manipulator than Eugene Jennings. He
was harsh to brutality when he saw fit to be so--or,
rather, when he deemed it wise to be so. Yet never
had he lost a paying pupil through his harshness.
These were fashionable women--most delicate, sensitive
ladies--at whom he swore. They wept, stayed on,
advertised him as a ``wonderful serious teacher who
won't stand any nonsense and doesn't care a hang
whether you stay or go--and he can teach absolutely
anybody to sing!'' He knew how to be gentle without
seeming to be so; he knew how to flatter without uttering
a single word that did not seem to be reluctant praise
or savage criticism; he knew how to make a lady with
a little voice work enough to make a showing that would
spur her to keep on and on with him; he knew how
to encourage a rich woman with no more song than a
peacock until she would come to him three times a week
for many years--and how he did make her pay for
what he suffered in listening to the hideous squawkings
and yelpings she inflicted upon him!
Did Jennings think himself a fraud? No more than
the next human being who lives by fraud.
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