They were plainly too much
for him, and he had to acknowledge his defeat. The experience was good
for him; he did not realize this at the time, nor did he enjoy the
sensation of not getting what he wanted. Nevertheless, a reverse or two
was due. Not that his success was having any undesirable effect upon
him; his Dutch common sense saved him from any such calamity. But at
thirty years of age it is not good for any one, no matter how well
balanced, to have things come his way too fast and too consistently. And
here were breaks. He could not have everything he wanted, and it was
just as well that he should find that out.
In his next quest he found himself again opposed by his London friends.
Unable to secure a new Alice in Wonderland for his child readers, he
determined to give them Kate Greenaway. But here he had selected another
recluse. Everybody discouraged him. The artist never saw visitors, he
was told, and she particularly shunned editors and publishers. Her own
publishers confessed that Miss Greenaway was inaccessible to them. "We
conduct all our business with her by correspondence. I have never seen
her personally myself," said a member of the firm.
Bok inwardly decided that two failures in two days were sufficient, and
he made up his mind that there should not be a third. He took a bus for
the long ride to Hampstead Heath, where the illustrator lived, and
finally stood before a picturesque Queen Anne house that one would have
recognized at once, with its lower story of red brick, its upper part
covered with red tiles, its windows of every size and shape, as the
inspiration of Kate Greenaway's pictures.
Pages:
222
223
224
225
226
227
228
229
230
231
232
233
234
235
236
237
238
239
240
241
242
243
244
245
246