WHAT TO DO--STRONG ENOUGH--FAME AND PROFIT--ALLITERATIVE EUPHONY--A
PLAN--BAGNIGGE WELLS
Anxious thoughts frequently disturbed me at this time with respect to
what I was to do, and how support myself in the Great City. My future
prospects were gloomy enough, and I looked forward and feared; sometimes
I felt half disposed to accept the offer of the Armenian, and to commence
forthwith, under his superintendence, the translation of the Haik Esop;
but the remembrance of the cuffs which I had seen him bestow upon the
Moldavian, when glancing over his shoulder into the ledger or whatever it
was on which he was employed, immediately drove the inclination from my
mind. I could not support the idea of the possibility of his staring
over my shoulder upon my translation of the Haik Esop, and, dissatisfied
with my attempts, treating me as he had treated the Moldavian clerk;
placing myself in a position which exposed me to such treatment would
indeed be plunging into the fire after escaping from the frying-pan. The
publisher, insolent and overbearing as he was, whatever he might have
wished or thought, had never lifted his hand against me, or told me that
I merited crucifixion.
What was I to do? turn porter? I was strong; but there was something
besides strength required to ply the trade of a porter--a mind of a
particularly phlegmatic temperament, which I did not possess. What
should I do? enlist as a soldier? I was tall enough; but something
besides height is required to make a man play with credit the part of
soldier, I mean a private one--a spirit, if spirit it can be called,
which will not only enable a man to submit with patience to insolence and
abuse, and even to cuffs and kicks, but occasionally to the lash. I felt
that I was not qualified to be a soldier, at least a private one; far
better be a drudge to the most ferocious of publishers, editing Newgate
lives, and writing in eighteenpenny reviews--better to translate the Haik
Esop, under the superintendence of ten Armenians, than be a private
soldier in the English service; I did not decide rashly--I knew something
of soldiering. What should I do? I thought that I would make a last and
desperate attempt to dispose of the ballads and of Ab Gwilym.
I had still an idea that, provided I could persuade any spirited
publisher to give these translations to the world, I should acquire both
considerable fame and profit; not, perhaps, a world-embracing fame such
as Byron's; but a fame not to be sneered at, which would last me a
considerable time, and would keep my heart from breaking;--profit, not
equal to that which Scott had made by his wondrous novels, but which
would prevent me from starving, and enable me to achieve some other
literary enterprise. I read and reread my ballads, and the more I read
them the more I was convinced that the public, in the event of their
being published, would freely purchase, and hail them with the merited
applause. Were not the deeds and adventures wonderful and
heart-stirring--from which it is true I could claim no merit, being but
the translator; but had I not rendered them into English, with all their
original fire? Yes, I was confident I had; and I had no doubt that the
public would say so. And then, with respect to Ab Gwilym, had I not done
as much justice to him as to the Danish ballads; not only rendering
faithfully his thoughts, imagery, and phraseology, but even preserving in
my translation the alliterative euphony which constitutes one of the most
remarkable features of Welsh prosody? Yes, I had accomplished all this;
and I doubted not that the public would receive my translations from Ab
Gwilym with quite as much eagerness as my version of the Danish ballads.
But I found the publishers as intractable as ever, and to this day the
public has never had an opportunity of doing justice to the glowing fire
of my ballad versification, and the alliterative euphony of my imitations
of Ab Gwilym.
I had not seen Francis Ardry since the day I had seen him taking lessons
in elocution. One afternoon as I was seated at my table, my head resting
on my hands, he entered my apartment; sitting down, he inquired of me why
I had not been to see him.
'I might ask the same question of you,' I replied. 'Wherefore have you
not been to see me?' Whereupon Francis Ardry told me that he had been
much engaged in his oratorical exercises, also in escorting the young
Frenchwoman about to places of public amusement; he then again questioned
me as to the reason of my not having been to see him.
I returned an evasive answer. The truth was, that for some time past my
appearance, owing to the state of my finances, had been rather shabby,
and I did not wish to expose a fashionable young man like Francis Ardry,
who lived in a fashionable neighbourhood, to the imputation of having a
shabby acquaintance. I was aware that Francis Ardry was an excellent
fellow; but, on that very account, I felt, under existing circumstances,
a delicacy in visiting him.
It is very possible that he had an inkling of how matters stood, as he
presently began to talk of my affairs and prospects. I told him of my
late ill success with the booksellers, and inveighed against their
blindness to their own interest in refusing to publish my translations.
'The last that I addressed myself to,' said I, 'told me not to trouble
him again unless I could bring him a decent novel or a tale.'
'Well,' said Frank, 'and why did you not carry him a decent novel or a
tale?'
'Because I have neither,' said I; 'and to write them is, I believe above
my capacity. At present I feel divested of all energy--heartless, and
almost hopeless.'
'I see how it is,' said Francis Ardry, 'you have overworked yourself,
and, worst of all, to no purpose. Take my advice; cast all care aside,
and only think of diverting yourself for a month at least.'
'Divert myself!' said I; 'and where am I to find the means?'
'Be that care on my shoulders,' said Francis Ardry. 'Listen to me--my
uncles have been so delighted with the favourable accounts which they
have lately received from T--- of my progress in oratory, that, in the
warmth of their hearts, they made me a present yesterday of two hundred
pounds. This is more money than I want, at least for the present; do me
the favour to take half of it as a loan--hear me,' said he, observing
that I was about to interrupt him; 'I have a plan in my head--one of the
prettiest in the world. The sister of my charmer is just arrived from
France; she cannot speak a word of English; and, as Annette and myself
are much engaged in our own matters, we cannot pay her the attention
which we should wish, and which she deserves, for she is a truly
fascinating creature, although somewhat differing from my charmer, having
blue eyes and flaxen hair; whilst, Annette, on the contrary-- But I hope
you will shortly see Annette. Now, my plan is this--Take the money,
dress yourself fashionably, and conduct Annette's sister to Bagnigge
Wells.'
'And what should we do at Bagnigge Wells?'
'Do!' said Francis Ardry. 'Dance!'
'But,' said I, 'I scarcely know anything of dancing.'
'Then here's an excellent opportunity of improving yourself. Like most
Frenchwomen, she dances divinely; however, if you object to Bagnigge
Wells and dancing, go to Brighton, and remain there a month or two, at
the end of which time you can return with your mind refreshed and
invigorated, and materials, perhaps, for a tale or novel.'
'I never heard a more foolish plan,' said I, 'or one less likely to
terminate profitably or satisfactorily. I thank you, however, for your
offer, which is, I daresay, well meant. If I am to escape from my cares
and troubles, and find my mind refreshed and invigorated, I must adopt
other means than conducting a French demoiselle to Brighton or Bagnigge
Wells, defraying the expense by borrowing from a friend.'