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lavengro-第97部分

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Could I do it?  Had I the imagination requisite to write a tale or 

a novel?  'Yes; yes;' said I; as I struck my hand again against the 

table; 'I can manage it; give me fair play; and I can accomplish 

anything。'



But should I have fair play?  I must have something to maintain 

myself with whilst I wrote my tale; and I had but eighteenpence in 

the world。  Would that maintain me whilst I wrote my tale?  Yes; I 

thought it would; provided I ate bread; which did not cost much; 

and drank water; which cost nothing; it was poor diet; it was true; 

but better men than myself had written on bread and water; had not 

the big man told me so? or something to that effect; months before?



It was true there was my lodging to pay for; but up to the present 

time I owed nothing; and perhaps; by the time that the people of 

the house asked me for money; I should have written a tale or a 

novel; which would bring me in money; I had paper; pens; and ink; 

and; let me not forget them; I had candles in my closet; all paid 

for; to light me during my night work。  Enough; I would go doggedly 

to work upon my tale or novel。



But what was the tale or novel to be about?  Was it to be a tale of 

fashionable life; about Sir Harry Somebody; and the Countess 

something?  But I knew nothing about fashionable people; and cared 

less; therefore how should I attempt to describe fashionable life? 

What should the tale consist of?  The life and adventures of some 

one。  Good … but of whom?  Did not Mr。 Petulengro mention one Jemmy 

Abershaw?  Yes。  Did he not tell me that the life and adventures of 

Jemmy Abershaw would bring in much money to the writer?  Yes; but I 

knew nothing of that worthy。  I heard; it is true; from Mr。 

Petulengro; that when alive he committed robberies on the hill; on 

the side of which Mr。 Petulengro had pitched his tents; and that 

his ghost still haunted the hill at midnight; but those were scant 

materials out of which to write the man's life。  It is probable 

indeed; that Mr。 Petulengro would be able to supply me with further 

materials if I should apply to him; but I was in a hurry; and could 

not afford the time which it would be necessary to spend in passing 

to and from Mr。 Petulengro; and consulting him。  Moreover; my pride 

revolted at the idea of being beholden to Mr。 Petulengro for the 

materials of the history。  No; I would not write the history of 

Abershaw。  Whose then … Harry Simms?  Alas; the life of Harry Simms 

had been already much better written by himself than I could hope 

to do it; and; after all; Harry Simms; like Jemmy Abershaw; was 

merely a robber。  Both; though bold and extraordinary men; were 

merely highwaymen。  I questioned whether I could compose a tale 

likely to excite any particular interest out of the exploits of a 

mere robber。  I want a character for my hero; thought I; something 

higher than a mere robber; some one like … like Colonel B…。  By the 

way; why should I not write the life and adventures of Colonel B…; 

of Londonderry in Ireland?



A truly singular man was this same Colonel B…; of Londonderry in 

Ireland; a personage of most strange and incredible feats and 

daring; who had been a partizan soldier; a bravo … who; assisted by 

certain discontented troopers; nearly succeeded in stealing the 

crown and regalia from the Tower of London; who attempted to hang 

the Duke of Ormond at Tyburn; and whose strange; eventful career 

did not terminate even with his life; his dead body; on the 

circulation of an unfounded report that he did not come to his 

death by fair means; having been exhumed by the mob of his native 

place; where he had retired to die; and carried in the coffin 

through the streets。



Of his life I had inserted an account in the NEWGATE LIVES AND 

TRIALS; it was bare and meagre; and written in the stiff; awkward 

style of the seventeenth century; it had; however; strongly 

captivated my imagination; and I now thought that out of it 

something better could be made; that; if I added to the adventures; 

and purified the style; I might fashion out of it a very decent 

tale or novel。  On a sudden; however; the proverb of mending old 

garments with new cloth occurred to me。  'I am afraid;' said I; 

'any new adventures which I can invent will not fadge well with the 

old tale; one will but spoil the other。'  I had better have nothing 

to do with Colonel B…; thought I; but boldly and independently sit 

down and write the life of Joseph Sell。



This Joseph Sell; dear reader; was a fictitious personage who had 

just come into my head。  I had never even heard of the name; but 

just at that moment it happened to come into my head; I would write 

an entirely fictitious narrative; called the LIFE AND ADVENTURES OF 

JOSEPH SELL; the great traveller。



I had better begin at once; thought I; and removing the bread and 

the jug; which latter was now empty; I seized pen and paper; and 

forthwith essayed to write the life of Joseph Sell; but soon 

discovered that it is much easier to resolve upon a thing than to 

achieve it; or even to commence it; for the life of me I did not 

know how to begin; and; after trying in vain to write a line; I 

thought it would be as well to go to bed; and defer my projected 

undertaking till the morrow。



So I went to bed; but not to sleep。  During the greater part of the 

night I lay awake; musing upon the work which I had determined to 

execute。  For a long time my brain was dry and unproductive; I 

could form no plan which appeared feasible。  At length I felt 

within my brain a kindly glow; it was the commencement of 

inspiration; in a few minutes I had formed my plan; I then began to 

imagine the scenes and the incidents。  Scenes and incidents flitted 

before my mind's eye so plentifully; that I knew not how to dispose 

of them; I was in a regular embarrassment。  At length I got out of 

the difficulty in the easiest manner imaginable; namely; by 

consigning to the depths of oblivion all the feebler and less 

stimulant scenes and incidents; and retaining the better and more 

impressive ones。  Before morning I had sketched the whole work on 

the tablets of my mind; and then resigned myself to sleep in the 

pleasing conviction that the most difficult part of my undertaking 

was achieved。







CHAPTER LVI







Considerably sobered … Power of writing … The tempter … Hungry 

talent … Work concluded。



RATHER late in the morning I awoke; for a few minutes I lay still; 

perfectly still; my imagination was considerably sobered; the 

scenes and situations which had pleased me so much over night 

appeared to me in a far less captivating guise that morning。  I 

felt languid and almost hopeless … the thought; however; of my 

situation soon roused me … I must make an effort to improve the 

posture of my affairs; there was no time to be lost; so I sprang 

out of bed; breakfasted on bread and water; and then sat down 

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