I cannot, merely on account of
pecuniary profit or literary reputation, go back from what I have
deliberately felt and thought it right to do; and if I were to tear out
the dedication, I should never look at the volume again without remorse
and shame. As for the literary public, it must accept my book precisely
as I think fit to give it, or let it alone."
By this time, the energy requisite for carrying on the Romance had sunk
still lower, so that he wrote:--
"I can't tell you when to expect an instalment of the Romance, if ever.
There is something preternatural in my reluctance to begin. I linger at
the threshold, and have a perception of very disagreeable phantasms to
be encountered if I enter. I wish God had given me the faculty of
writing a sunshiny book."
And, a little later:--
"I don't see much probability of my having the first chapter of the
Romance ready so soon as you want it. There are two or three chapters
ready to be written, but I am not yet robust enough to begin, and I feel
as if I should never carry it through."
His inability to work has been illustrated in the numerous bulletins of
this period published by Mr. Fields: they show him at times despondent,
as in the extracts above, then again in a state of semi-resolution. At
another time there is mixed presentiment and humor in his report.
"I am not quite up to writing yet, but shall make an effort as soon as I
see any hope of success. You ought to be thankful that (like most other
broken-down authors) I do not pester you with decrepit pages, and insist
upon your accepting them as full of the old spirit and vigor.
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