“My work has been nominally
published for two weeks and two days; really, I don’t believe it is published yet.
How helpless am I, at this distance from head-quarters! Can you—will
you—assist me in ascertaining whether it was advertised in the ‘Chronicle,’ ‘Courier,’ ‘Times’ and ‘Herald?’ Do me this favour by calling at the Royal Institution and looking
over the files of the newspapers’; and again, in writing to me on this subject,
just say whether you think the work published, in the sense of palam factum. As for writing tales, God knows, my dear
friend, I feel but too far—too much inclined to indulge in this idle, heedless
passion. I dream of cascades and that is βάθος
ύλης so sweet, so inspiring, and so profitless, unless
the dream be painted by more able brushes. No; should this work succeed, should the
soothing breath of ‘Well done!’ speak comfort to my almost frozen heart, my
vocation is irrevocably fixed, and the year rolls not away, provided I have health,
unproductive of something more
18 | LETTER FROM DR. BLAND. |