the world what manner of man he was. He seemed doomed to meet
everywhere with discouragement; for no one wanted him, just as no one
wanted his translations of the glorious Ab Gwilym. He appeared
before the world as a failure, which probably troubled him very
little; but there was another aspect of the case that was in his
eyes, "the most heartbreaking of everything, the strange, the
disadvantageous light in which I am aware that I must frequently have
appeared to those whom I most love and honour." {83a}

On 14th September he wrote to Dr Bowring:


"I am going to Norwich for some short time, as I am very unwell and
hope that cold bathing in October and November may prove of service
to me. My complaints are, I believe, the offspring of ennui and
unsettled prospects. I have thoughts of attempting to get into the
French service, as I should like prodigiously to serve under Clausel
in the next Bedouin campaign. I shall leave London next Sunday and
will call some evening to take my leave; I cannot come in the
morning, as early rising kills me."

A year later he writes again to Dr Bowring, who once more has been
exerting himself on his friend's behalf:


"WILLOW LANE, NORWICH,
11th September 1831.

MY DEAR SIR, -