Martin Eden Ch 43 p422

Paul Stought

Aug 31

experienced publishers and no one had been more astounded than they at the success which had followed. To them it had been in truth a miracle. They never got over it, and every letter they wrote him reflected their reverent awe of that first mysterious happening. They did not attempt to explain it. There was no explaining it. It had happened. In the face of all experience to the contrary, it had happened.	ikspiryunsd publishurz and noe wun had bin maur ustoundud dhan dhae at dhu sukses which had foloed. Too dhem it had bin in trooth u mirikul. Dhae nevur got oevur it, and evry letur dhae roet him riflektud dher revurunt au uv dhat furst mistiryus hapuning. Dhae did not utempt too iksplaen it. Dher wuz noe iksplaening it. It had hapund. In dhu faes uv aul ikspiryuns too dhu kontrery, it had hapund.
So it was, reasoning thus, that Martin questioned the validity of his popularity. It was the bourgeoisie that bought his books and poured its gold into his money-sack, and from what little he knew of the bourgeoisie it was not clear to him how it could possibly appreciate or comprehend what he had written. His intrinsic beauty and power meant nothing to the hundreds of thousands who were acclaiming him and buying his books. He was the fad of the hour, the adventurer who had stormed Parnassus while the gods nodded. The hundreds of thousands read him and acclaimed him with the same brute non-understanding with which they had flung themselves on Brissenden's "Ephemera" and torn it to pieces—a wolf-rabble that fawned on him instead of fanging him. Fawn or fang, it was all a matter of chance. One thing he knew with absolute certitude: "Ephemera" was infinitely greater than anything he had done. It was infinitely greater than anything he had in him. It was a poem of centuries. Then the tribute the mob paid him was a sorry tribute indeed, for that same mob had wallowed "Ephemera" into the mire. He sighed heavily and with satisfaction. He was glad the last manuscript was sold and that he would soon be done with it all.	Soe it wuz, ryzuning dhus, dhat Mortun kweschund dhu vuliduty uv hiz popyularuty. It wuz dhu bwrzhwozy dhat baut hiz bwks and paurd its goeld intoo hiz muny-sak, and frum whot litul hy noo uv dhu bwrzhwozy it wuz not klir too him hou it kwd posubly upryshyaet aur komprihend whot hy had ritun. Hiz intrinsik buety and pour ment nuthing too dhu hundrudz uv thouzundz hoo wur uklaeming him and bi.ing hiz bwks. Hy wuz dhu fad uv dhy our, dhy udvenchurur hoo had staurmd Pornasus whiel dhu godz nodud. Dhu hundrudz uv thouzundz red him and uklaemd him with dhu saem broot non-undurstanding with which dhae had flung themselvz on Brisundun'z "Ifemuru" and taurn it too pysuz—u wwlf-rabul dhat faund on him insted uv fanging him. Faun aur fang, it wuz aul u matur uv chans. Wun thing hy noo with absuloot surtutood: "Ifemuru" wuz infunutly graetur dhat enything hy had dun. It wuz infunutly graetur dhan enything hy had in him. It wuz u po.um uv senchuryz. Dhen dhu tribuet dhu mob paed him wuz u sory tribuet indyd, faur dhat saem mob had woloed "Ifemuru" intoo dhu mier. Hy sied hevuly and with satusfakshun. Hy wuz glad dhu last manyuskript wuz soeld and dhat hy wwd soon by dun with it aul.
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Martin Eden Martin Eden Intro