Buddhism sat rather tightly on shoulders broadened by
responsibility, and the first part of Book IV. is flatly
contradicted by its climax.
This is a pitiable sort of confession for a man to make !
What was I todo? I could not rewrite the whole in
order to give it a philosophic unity. Gerald Kelly
forcibly prevented me from throwing it into the river
at Marlotte, though he admitted quite frankly that he
could not read even through Book I. and did not see
how any one could. Tell me, he said, conjuring the
friendship of years, can you read it? Even a poet should
be honest; I confessed that I could not!
Taking it in sections, with relays and an ambulance,
we could see no fault in it, however. It is clumsily built;
it is all feet and face; but you cannot make a Monster
symmetrical by lopping at him.
Still, we cut down every possible excrescence, doctored
up the remains so as to look as much like a book as
possible (until it is examined), and are about to let it
loose on society.
The remaining books all share this fatal lack of Archi-
tecture ; but they are not so long ; there is some incident,
though not much ; and they dre proportionately less dull.
Further, the scheme is no longer so ambitious, and the
failure is therefore less glaring.
I might have done like Burton and his Kasidah, and
kept the MS. for twenty years (if I live so long), ever
revising it. But (a) I should certainly not live twenty
years if I had the accursed manuscript in all sorts and
sizes of type and colour of ink and pencil to stalk my
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