Courtship -- England -- Fiction; England -- Social life and customs -- 19th century -- Fiction
DEAREST, DEAREST LOVE,
I have been, as desired, to Lombard Street, but I fear
that my embassy has not led to any good. I know myself
to be about as bad an ambassador as any one can send. An
ambassador should be soft and gentle,--willing to make
the best of everything, and never prone to take offence,
nor should he be addicted specially to independence. I
am ungentle, and apt to be suspicious,--especially if
anything be said derogatory to my art. I am proud of being
an artist, but I am often ashamed of myself because I
exhibit my pride. I may say the same of my spirit of
independence. I am determined to be independent if I
live,--but I find my independence sometimes kicking up its
heels, till I hate it myself.
From this you will perceive that I have not had a success
in Lombard Street. I was quite willing to answer your
uncle any questions he could ask about money. Indeed,
I had no secret from him on any subject. But when he
subjected me to cross-examination, forcing me into a
bathos of poverty, as he thought, I broke down. "Not five
hundred a-year!" "Not four!!" "Not three!!!" "Oh, heavens!
and you propose to take a wife!" You will understand how I
writhed and wriggled under the scorn.
And then there came something worse than this,--or rather,
if I remember rightly, the worst thing came first. You
were over in my studio, and will remember, perhaps,
some of my own abortive treasures, those melancholy but
soul-inspiring creations of which I have thought so much,
and others have thought so little? That no one else should
value them is natural, but to me it seems unnatural,
almost cruel, that any one should tell me to my face that
they were valueless. Your uncle, of course, had never seen
them, but he knew that sculptors are generally burdened
with these "wares," as he called them; and he suggested
that I should sell them by auction for what they might
fetch,--in order that the corners which they occupy might
be vacant. He thought that, perhaps, they might do for
country gentlemen to stick about among their shrubs.
You, knowing my foolish soreness on the subject, will
understand how well I must have been prepared by this to
endure your uncle's cross-examination.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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