Part 55 (1/2)
_B._ By-the-bye, have you brought in Madame de Stael?
_A._ No--how the devil am I to bring her in?
_B._ As most other travellers do, by the head and shoulders. Never mind that, so long as you bring her in.
_A._ (_writes._) Madame de Stael by the shoulders--that's not very polite towards a lady. These hints are invaluable; pray go on.
_B._ Why, you have already more hints this morning than are sufficient for three volumes. But, however, let me see. (_B. thinks a little._) Find yourself short of cash.
_A._ A sad reality, Barnstaple. I shall write this part well, for truth will guide my pen.
_B._ All the better. But to continue--no remittances--awkward position--explain your situation--receive credit to any amount--and compliment your countrymen.
_A._ (_writes._) Credit to any amount--pleasing idea? But I don't exactly perceive the value of this last hint, Barnstaple.
_B._ All judicious travellers make it a point, throughout the whole of their works, to flatter the nation upon its wealth, name, and reputation in foreign countries; by doing so you will be read greedily, and praised in due proportion. If ever I were to write my travels into the interior of Africa, or to the North Pole, I would make it a point to discount a bill at Timbuctoo, or get a cheque cashed by the Esquimaux, without the least hesitation in either case. I think now that what with your invention, your plagiarism, and my hints, you ought to produce a very effective Book of Travels; and with that feeling I shall leave you to pursue your journey, and receive, at its finale, your just reward. When we meet again, I hope to see you advertised.
_A._ Yes, but not exposed, I trust. I am _incog._ you know.
_B._ To be sure, that will impart an additional interest to your narrative. All the world will be guessing who you may be. Adieu, voyageur. [_Exit Barnstaple._
_A._ And heaven forfend that they should find me out. But what can be done? In brief, I cannot get a brief, and thus I exercise my professional acquirements how I can, proving myself as long-winded, as prosy perhaps, and certainly as lying, as the more fortunate of my fraternity.
How to write a Romance
_Mr Arthur Ansard, standing at his table, selecting a steel pen from a card on which a dozen are ranged up, like soldiers on parade._
I must find a regular _graver_ to write this chapter of horrors. No goose quill could afford me any a.s.sistance. Now then. Let me see----(_Reads, and during his reading Barnstaple comes in at the door behind him, unperceived._) ”At this most monstrously appalling sight, the hair of Piftlianteriscki raised slowly the velvet cap from off his head, as if it had been perched upon the rustling quills of some exasperated porcupine--(I think that's new)--his nostrils dilated to that extent that you might, with ease, have thrust a musket bullet into each--his mouth was opened so wide, so unnaturally wide, that the corners were rent asunder, and the blood slowly trickled down each side of his bristly chin--while each tooth loosened from its socket with individual fear.--Not a word could he utter, for his tongue, in its fright, clung with terror to his upper jaw, as tight as do the bellies of the fresh and slimy soles, paired together by some fishwoman; but if his tongue was paralysed, his heart was not--it throbbed against his ribs with a violence which threatened their dislocation from the sternum, and with a sound which reverberated through the dark, damp subterrene----.” I think that will do. There's _force_ there.
_B._ There is, with a vengeance. Why, what is all this?
_A._ My dear Barnstaple, you here? I'm writing a romance for B----. It is to be supposed to be a translation.
_B._ The Germans will be infinitely obliged to you; but, my dear fellow, you appear to have fallen into the old school--that's no longer in vogue.
_A._ My orders are for the old school. B---- was most particular on that point. He says that there is a re-action--a great re-action.
_B._ What, on literature? Well, he knows as well as any man. I only wish to G.o.d there was in everything else, and we could see the good old times again.
_A._ To confess the truth, I did intend to have finished this without saying a word to you. I wished to have surprised you.
_B._ So you have, my dear fellow, with the few lines I have heard. How the devil are you to get your fellow out of that state of asphyxia?
_A._ By degrees--slowly--very slowly--as they pretend that we lawyers go to heaven. But I'll tell you what I have done, just to give you an idea of my work. In the first place, I have a castle perched so high up in the air, that the eagles, even in their highest soar, appear but as wrens below.
_B._ That's all right.
_A._ And then it has subterraneous pa.s.sages, to which the sewers of London are a mere song, and they all lead to a small cave at high water mark on the sea-beach, covered with brambles and bushes, and just large enough at its entrance to admit of a man squeezing himself in.