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diff --git a/31809.txt b/31809.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..29f86af --- /dev/null +++ b/31809.txt @@ -0,0 +1,16106 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Works of Robert Louis Stevenson - +Swanston Edition Vol. 24 (of 25), by Robert Louis Stevenson + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Works of Robert Louis Stevenson - Swanston Edition Vol. 24 (of 25) + +Author: Robert Louis Stevenson + +Other: Andrew Lang + +Release Date: March 28, 2010 [EBook #31809] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WORKS OF STEVENSON *** + + + + +Produced by Marius Masi, Jonathan Ingram and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + + + + THE WORKS OF + + ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON + + SWANSTON EDITION + + VOLUME XXIV + + + _Of this SWANSTON EDITION in Twenty-five + Volumes of the Works of ROBERT LOUIS + STEVENSON Two Thousand and Sixty Copies + have been printed, of which only Two Thousand + Copies are for sale._ + + + _This is No._ ....... + + +[Illustration: TEMBINOKA, KING OF APEMAMA, WITH THE HEIR-APPARENT] + + + THE WORKS OF + + ROBERT LOUIS + STEVENSON + + + VOLUME TWENTY-FOUR + + + LONDON: PUBLISHED BY CHATTO AND + WINDUS: IN ASSOCIATION WITH CASSELL + AND COMPANY LIMITED: WILLIAM + HEINEMANN: AND LONGMANS GREEN + AND COMPANY MDCCCCXII + + + _For permission to use the_ LETTERS _in the_ + SWANSTON EDITION OF STEVENSON'S WORKS + _the Publishers are indebted to the kindness of_ + MESSRS. METHUEN & CO., LTD. + + + _ALL RIGHTS RESERVED_ + + + + + THE LETTERS OF + ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON + + EDITED BY + SIDNEY COLVIN + + PARTS VII-X + + + + +CONTENTS + + +VII. THE RIVIERA AGAIN--MARSEILLES AND HYERES + + PAGE + INTRODUCTORY 3 + + LETTERS-- + To the Editor of the New York Tribune 7 + To R. A. M. Stevenson 8 + To Thomas Stevenson 9 + To Mrs. Thomas Stevenson 9 + To Trevor Haddon 10 + [Mrs. R. L. Stevenson to John Addington + Symonds] 11 + To Charles Baxter 14 + To Sidney Colvin 15 + To Alison Cunningham 16 + To W. E. Henley 17 + To Mrs. Thomas Stevenson 21 + To Thomas Stevenson 22 + To W. E. Henley 23 + To Mrs. Sitwell 24 + To Edmund Gosse 26 + To Mr. and Mrs. Thomas Stevenson 27 + To the Same 28 + To Edmund Gosse 29 + To the Same 30 + To W. E. Henley 31 + To the Same 32 + To Sidney Colvin 33 + To W. E. Henley 34 + To the Same 36 + To Jules Simoneau 36 + To W. E. Henley 37 + To Trevor Haddon 39 + To Jules Simoneau 41 + To Alison Cunningham 44 + To Edmund Gosse 45 + To Miss Ferrier 46 + To W. E. Henley 47 + To Edmund Gosse 50 + To Miss Ferrier 52 + To W. E. Henley 54 + To Sidney Colvin 55 + To W. E. Henley 57 + To W. H. Low 57 + To R. A. M. Stevenson 59 + To Thomas Stevenson 62 + To W. H. Low 63 + To W. E. Henley 65 + To Mrs. Thomas Stevenson 66 + To Sidney Colvin 67 + To Sidney Colvin 69 + To Mrs. Milne 70 + To Miss Ferrier 71 + To W. E. Henley 72 + To W. H. Low 73 + To Thomas Stevenson 74 + To Mr. and Mrs. Thomas Stevenson 75 + To Mrs. Thomas Stevenson 76 + To Mr. and Mrs. Thomas Stevenson 78 + To W. E. Henley 79 + To Sidney Colvin 81 + To Mr. Dick 83 + To Cosmo Monkhouse 85 + To Edmund Gosse 87 + To Miss Ferrier 88 + To W. H. Low 89 + To Thomas Stevenson 90 + To W. E. Henley 91 + To Trevor Haddon 93 + To Cosmo Monkhouse 95 + To W. E. Henley 96 + To Edmund Gosse 97 + To Sidney Colvin 98 + To the Same 99 + To Mr. and Mrs. Thomas Stevenson 100 + To Sidney Colvin 101 + To W. E. Henley 102 + + +VIII. LIFE AT BOURNEMOUTH + + INTRODUCTORY 104 + + LETTERS-- + To Mr. and Mrs. Thomas Stevenson 110 + To Andrew Chatto 110 + To W. E. Henley 111 + To the Rev. Professor Lewis Campbell 113 + To W. E. Henley 114 + To W. H. Low 115 + To Sir Walter Simpson 117 + To Thomas Stevenson 118 + To the Same 119 + To W. E. Henley 120 + To Charles Baxter 121 + To Miss Ferrier 121 + To Charles Baxter 122 + To W. E. Henley 123 + To Edmund Gosse 125 + To Austin Dobson 126 + To W. E. Henley 127 + To Henry James 127 + To Mr. and Mrs. Thomas Stevenson 130 + To W. E. Henley 131 + To Miss Ferrier 132 + To W. E. Henley 133 + To H. A. Jones 133 + To Sidney Colvin 134 + To Thomas Stevenson 135 + To Sidney Golvin 136 + To the Same 137 + To J. A. Symonds 138 + To Edmund Gosse 140 + To W. H. Low 142 + To P. G. Hamerton 143 + To W. E. Henley 146 + To the Same 147 + To William Archer 147 + To Mr. and Mrs. Joseph Pennell 149 + To Mrs. Fleeming Jenkin 150 + To the Same 151 + To C. Howard Carrington 152 + To Katharine de Mattos 152 + To W. H. Low 153 + To W. E. Henley 155 + To William Archer 156 + To Thomas Stevenson 159 + To Henry James 160 + To William Archer 161 + To the Same 163 + To W. H. Low 166 + To Mrs. de Mattos 167 + To Alison Cunningham 167 + To Mr. and Mrs. Thomas Stevenson 168 + To W. H. Low 169 + To Edmund Gosse 173 + To James Payn 176 + To W. H. Low 177 + To Charles J. Guthrie 178 + To Thomas Stevenson 179 + To C. W. Stoddard 180 + To Edmund Gosse 181 + To J. A. Symonds 183 + To F. W. H. Myers 184 + To W. H. Low 185 + To Sidney Colvin 186 + To Mrs. Fleeming Jenkin 187 + To Sidney Colvin 189 + To Thomas Stevenson 190 + To Miss Monroe 191 + To Sidney Colvin 192 + To Miss Monroe 193 + To Alison Cunningham 196 + To R. A. M. Stevenson 196 + To the Same 198 + To Mr. and Mrs. Thomas Stevenson 199 + To Charles Baxter 200 + To Alison Cunningham 200 + To Thomas Stevenson 201 + To Alison Cunningham 202 + To Mrs. Thomas Stevenson 202 + To T. Watts-Dunton 203 + To Alison Cunningham 204 + To Frederick Locker-Lampson 205 + To the Same 206 + To the Same 207 + To the Same 208 + To Auguste Rodin 209 + To Sidney Colvin 210 + To Lady Taylor 211 + To the Same 213 + To Henry James 214 + To Frederick Locker-Lampson 215 + To Henry James 215 + To Auguste Rodin 216 + To W. H. Low 217 + To Sidney Colvin 219 + To Alison Cunningham 220 + To Mrs. Fleeming Jenkin 221 + To the Same 225 + To Miss Rawlinson 227 + To Sidney Colvin 228 + To Sir Walter Simpson 229 + To W. E. Henley 229 + To W. H. Low 230 + To Miss Adelaide Boodle 231 + To Messrs. Chatto and Windus 231 + + +IX. THE UNITED STATES AGAIN + + WINTER IN THE ADIRONDACKS + + INTRODUCTORY 233 + + LETTERS-- + To Sidney Colvin 235 + To the Same 236 + To Henry James 237 + To Sidney Colvin 238 + To W. E. Henley 239 + To R. A. M. Stevenson 240 + To Sir Walter Simpson 242 + To Edmund Gosse 244 + To W. H. Low 245 + To Charles Fairchild 246 + To William Archer 247 + To W. E. Henley 248 + To Henry James 249 + To Charles Baxter 251 + To Charles Scribner 252 + To E. L. Burlingame 253 + To the Same 254 + To John Addington Symonds 254 + To W. E. Henley 257 + To Mrs. Fleeming Jenkin 258 + To Miss Adelaide Boodle 259 + To Charles Baxter 260 + To Miss Munroe 261 + To Henry James 262 + To Sidney Colvin 264 + To the Same 265 + To Miss Adelaide Boodle 267 + To Charles Baxter 268 + To E. L. Burlingame 268 + To William Archer 270 + To the Same 272 + To the Same 273 + To E. L. Burlingame 273 + To the Same 274 + To Sidney Colvin 275 + To the Rev. Dr. Charteris 276 + To Edmund Gosse 277 + To Henry James 278 + To the Rev. Dr. Charteris 279 + To S. R. Crockett 280 + To Miss Ferrier 282 + To Sidney Colvin 283 + To Miss Adelaide Boodle 284 + To Sidney Colvin 285 + To Charles Baxter 286 + To Lady Taylor 286 + To Homer St. Gaudens 287 + To Henry James 288 + + +X. PACIFIC VOYAGES + + YACHT CASCO--SCHOONER EQUATOR-- + S.S. JANET NICOLL + + INTRODUCTORY 290 + + LETTERS-- + To Sidney Colvin 293 + To Charles Baxter 294 + To Sidney Colvin 295 + To Charles Baxter 296 + To Miss Adelaide Boodle 297 + To Sidney Colvin 298 + To William and Thomas Archer 300 + To Charles Baxter 301 + To the Same 303 + To John Addington Symonds 304 + To Thomas Archer 305 + [Mrs. R. L. Stevenson to Sidney Colvin] 308 + To Sidney Colvin 316 + To E. L. Burlingame 319 + To Charles Baxter 322 + To R. A. M. Stevenson 323 + To Marcel Schwob 327 + To Charles Baxter 327 + To Sidney Colvin 329 + [Mrs. R. L. Stevenson to Mrs. Sitwell] 331 + To Henry James 334 + To Sidney Colvin 336 + To E. L. Burlingame 338 + To Miss Adelaide Boodle 339 + To Charles Baxter 343 + To the Same 344 + To W. H. Low 345 + [Mrs. R. L. Stevenson to Sidney Colvin] 347 + To Mrs. R. L. Stevenson 349 + To Sidney Colvin 353 + To James Payn 355 + To Lady Taylor 357 + To Sidney Colvin 357 + To the Same 362 + To E. L. Burlingame 367 + To Charles Baxter 369 + To Lady Taylor 372 + To Dr. Scott 374 + To Charles Baxter 375 + To E. L. Burlingame 377 + To James Payn 381 + To Henry James 382 + To Mrs. Thomas Stevenson 383 + To Charles Baxter 384 + To Sidney Colvin 385 + To E. L. Burlingame 387 + To Charles Baxter 392 + To E. L. Burlingame 394 + To Henry James 396 + To Marcel Schwob 397 + To Andrew Lang 399 + To Miss Adelaide Boodle 401 + To Mrs. Charles Fairchild 403 + + + + +THE LETTERS OF ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON + +1882-1890 + + + + +THE LETTERS OF ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON + +VII + +THE RIVIERA AGAIN--MARSEILLES AND HYERES + +OCTOBER 1882--AUGUST 1884 + + +In the two years and odd months since his return from California, +Stevenson had made no solid gain of health. His winters, and especially +his second winter, at Davos had seemed to do him much temporary good; +but during the summers in Scotland he had lost as much as he had gained, +or more. Loving the Mediterranean shores of France from of old, he now +made up his mind to try them once again. + +As the ways and restrictions of a settled invalid were repugnant to +Stevenson's character and instincts, so were the life and society of a +regular invalid station depressing and uncongenial to him. He +determined, accordingly, to avoid settling in one of these, and hoped to +find a suitable climate and habitation that should be near, though not +in, some centre of the active and ordinary life of man, with accessible +markets, libraries, and other resources. In September 1882 he started +with his cousin Mr. R. A. M. Stevenson in search of a new home, and +thought first of trying the Languedoc coast, a region new to him. At +Montpellier, he was laid up again with a bad bout of his lung troubles; +and, the doctor not recommending him to stay, returned to Marseilles. +Here he was rejoined by his wife, and after a few days' exploration in +the neighbourhood they lighted on what seemed exactly the domicile they +wanted. This was a roomy and attractive enough house and garden called +the Campagne Defli, near the manufacturing suburb of St. Marcel, in a +sheltered position in full view of the shapely coastward hills. By the +third week in October they were installed, and in eager hopes of +pleasant days to come and a return to working health. These hopes were +not realised. Week after week went on, and the hemorrhages and fits of +fever and exhaustion did not diminish. Work, except occasional verses, +and a part of the story called _The Treasure of Franchard_, would not +flow, and the time had to be whiled away with games of patience and +other resources of the sick man. Nearly two months were thus passed; +during the whole of one of them Stevenson had not been able to go beyond +the garden; and by Christmas he had to face the fact that the air of the +place was tainted. An epidemic of fever, due to some defect of drainage, +broke out, and it became clear that this could be no home for Stevenson. +Accordingly, at his wife's instance, though having scarce the strength +to travel, he left suddenly for Nice, she staying behind to pack their +chattels and wind up their affairs and responsibilities as well as might +be. Various misadventures, miscarriages of telegrams, journeys taken at +cross purposes and the like, making existence uncomfortably dramatic at +the moment, caused the couple to believe for a while that they had +fairly lost each other. Mrs. Stevenson allows me to print a letter from +herself to Mr. J. A. Symonds vividly relating these predicaments (see +p. 11 foll.). At last, in the course of January, they came safely +together at Marseilles, and next made a few weeks' stay at Nice, where +Stevenson's health quickly mended. Thence they returned as far as +Hyeres. Staying here through the greater part of February, at the Hotel +des Iles d'Or, and finding the place to their liking, they cast about +once more for a resting-place, and were this time successful. + +The house chosen by the Stevensons at Hyeres was not near the sea, but +inland, on the road above the old town and beneath the ruins of the +castle. The Chalet La Solitude it was called; a cramped but habitable +cottage built in the Swiss manner, with a pleasant strip of garden, and +a view and situation hardly to be bettered. Here he and his family lived +for the next sixteen months (March 1883 to July 1884). To the first part +of this period he often afterwards referred as the happiest time of his +life. His malady remained quiescent enough to afford, at least to his +own buoyant spirit, a strong hope of ultimate recovery. He delighted in +his surroundings, and realised for the first time the joys of a true +home of his own. The last shadow of a cloud between himself and his +parents had long passed away; and towards his father, now in declining +health, and often suffering from moods of constitutional depression, the +son begins on his part to assume, how touchingly and tenderly will be +seen from the following letters, a quasi-paternal attitude of +encouragement and monition. At the same time his work on the completion +of the _Silverado Squatters_, on _Prince Otto_, the _Child's Garden of +Verses_ (for which his own name was _Penny Whistles_), on the _Black +Arrow_ (designated hereinafter, on account of its Old English dialect, +as "tushery"), and other undertakings prospered well. In the autumn the +publication of _Treasure Island_ in book form brought with it the first +breath of popular applause. The reader will see how modest a price +Stevenson was content, nay, delighted, to receive for this classic. It +was two or three years yet before he could earn enough to support +himself and his family by literature: a thing he had always been +earnestly bent on doing, regarding it as the only justification for his +chosen way of life. In the meantime, it must be understood, whatever +help he needed from his father was from the hour of his marriage always +amply and ungrudgingly given. + +In September of the same year, 1883, Stevenson had felt deeply the death +of his old friend James Walter Ferrier (see the essay _Old Mortality_ +and the references in the following letters). But still his health held +out fairly, until, in January 1884, on a visit to Nice, he was +unexpectedly prostrated anew by an acute congestion of the internal +organs, which for the time being brought him to death's door. Returning +to his home, his recovery had been only partial when, after four months +(May 1884), a recurrence of violent hemorrhages from the lung once more +prostrated him completely; soon after which he quitted Hyeres, and the +epidemic of cholera which broke out there the same summer prevented all +thoughts of his return. + +The Hyeres time, both during the happy and hard-working months of +March-December 1883, and the semi-convalescence of February-May 1884, +was a prolific one in the way of correspondence; and there is perhaps no +period of his life when his letters reflect so fully the variety of his +moods and the eagerness of his occupations. + + + + +TO THE EDITOR OF THE NEW YORK TRIBUNE + + + At Marseilles, while waiting to occupy the house which he had leased + in the suburbs of that city, Stevenson learned that his old friend + and kind adviser, Mr. James Payn, with whom he had been intimate as + sub-editor of the Cornhill Magazine under Mr. Leslie Stephen in the + '70's, had been inadvertently represented in the columns of the New + York Tribune as a plagiarist of R. L. S. In order to put matters + right, he at once sent the following letter both to the Tribune and + to the London Athenaeum:-- + + _Terminus Hotel, Marseilles, October 16, 1882._ + +SIR,--It has come to my ears that you have lent the authority of your +columns to an error. + +More than half in pleasantry--and I now think the pleasantry +ill-judged--I complained in a note to my _New Arabian Nights_ that some +one, who shall remain nameless for me, had borrowed the idea of a story +from one of mine. As if I had not borrowed the ideas of the half of my +own! As if any one who had written a story ill had a right to complain +of any other who should have written it better! I am indeed thoroughly +ashamed of the note, and of the principle which it implies. + +But it is no mere abstract penitence which leads me to beg a corner of +your paper--it is the desire to defend the honour of a man of letters +equally known in America and England, of a man who could afford to lend +to me and yet be none the poorer; and who, if he would so far +condescend, has my free permission to borrow from me all that he can +find worth borrowing. + +Indeed, sir, I am doubly surprised at your correspondent's error. That +James Payn should have borrowed from me is already a strange conception. +The author of _Lost Sir Massingberd_ and _By Proxy_ may be trusted to +invent his own stories. The author of _A Grape from a Thorn_ knows +enough, in his own right, of the humorous and pathetic sides of human +nature. + +But what is far more monstrous--what argues total ignorance of the man +in question--is the idea that James Payn could ever have transgressed +the limits of professional propriety. I may tell his thousands of +readers on your side of the Atlantic that there breathes no man of +letters more inspired by kindness and generosity to his brethren of the +profession, and, to put an end to any possibility of error, I may be +allowed to add that I often have recourse, and that I had recourse once +more but a few weeks ago, to the valuable practical help which he makes +it his pleasure to extend to younger men. + +I send a duplicate of this letter to a London weekly; for the mistake, +first set forth in your columns, has already reached England, and my +wanderings have made me perhaps last of the persons interested to hear a +word of it.--I am, etc., + + ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. + + + + +TO R. A. M. STEVENSON + + + _Terminus Hotel, Marseille_, _Saturday_ [_October 1882_]. + +MY DEAR BOB,--We have found a house!--at Saint Marcel, Banlieue de +Marseille. In a lovely valley between hills part wooded, part white +cliffs; a house of a dining-room, of a fine salon--one side lined with a +long divan--three good bedrooms (two of them with dressing-rooms), three +small rooms (chambers of _bonne_ and sich), a large kitchen, a lumber +room, many cupboards, a back court, a large olive yard, cultivated by a +resident _paysan_, a well, a berceau, a good deal of rockery, a little +pine shrubbery, a railway station in front, two lines of omnibus to +Marseille. + + L48 per annum. + +It is called Campagne Defli! query Campagne Debug? The Campagne +Demosquito goes on here nightly, and is very deadly. Ere we can get +installed, we shall be beggared to the door, I see. + +I vote for separations; F.'s arrival here, after our separation, was +better fun to me than being married was by far. A separation completed +is a most valuable property; worth piles.--Ever your affectionate +cousin, + + R. L. S. + + + + +TO THOMAS STEVENSON + + + _Terminus Hotel, Marseille, le 17th October 1882._ + +MY DEAR FATHER,--We grow, every time we see it, more delighted with our +house. It is five miles out of Marseilles, in a lovely spot, among +lovely wooded and cliffy hills--most mountainous in line--far lovelier, +to my eyes, than any Alps. To-day we have been out inventorying; and +though a mistral blew, it was delightful in an open cab, and our house +with the windows open was heavenly, soft, dry, sunny, southern. I fear +there are fleas--it is called Campagne Defli--and I look forward to tons +of insecticide being employed. + +I have had to write a letter to the New York Tribune and the Athenaeum. +Payn was accused of stealing my stories! I think I have put things +handsomely for him. + +Just got a servant!!!--Ever affectionate son, + + R. L. STEVENSON. + + +Our servant is a Muckle Hash of a Weedy! + + + + +TO MRS. THOMAS STEVENSON + + + The next two months' letters had perforce to consist of little save + bulletins of back-going health, and consequent disappointment and + incapacity for work. + + _Campagne Defli, St. Marcel, + Banlieue de Marseille, November 13, 1882._ + +MY DEAR MOTHER,--Your delightful letters duly arrived this morning. They +were the only good feature of the day, which was not a success. Fanny +was in bed--she begged I would not split upon her, she felt so guilty; +but as I believe she is better this evening, and has a good chance to +be right again in a day or two, I will disregard her orders. I do not go +back, but do not go forward--or not much. It is, in one way, +miserable--for I can do no work; a very little wood-cutting, the +newspapers, and a note about every two days to write, completely +exhausts my surplus energy; even Patience I have to cultivate with +parsimony. I see, if I could only get to work, that we could live here +with comfort, almost with luxury. Even as it is, we should be able to +get through a considerable time of idleness. I like the place immensely, +though I have seen so little of it--I have only been once outside the +gate since I was here! It puts me in mind of a summer at Prestonpans and +a sickly child you once told me of. + +Thirty-two years now finished! My twenty-ninth was in San Francisco, I +remember--rather a bleak birthday. The twenty-eighth was not much +better; but the rest have been usually pleasant days in pleasant +circumstances. + +Love to you and to my father and to Cummy. + + From me and Fanny and Wogg. + + R. L. S. + + + + +TO TREVOR HADDON + + + _Campagne Defli, St. Marcel, Dec. 29th, 1882._ + +DEAR SIR,--I am glad you sent me your note, I had indeed lost your +address, and was half thinking to try the Ringstown one; but far from +being busy, I have been steadily ill. I was but three or four days in +London, waiting till one of my friends was able to accompany me, and had +neither time nor health to see anybody but some publisher people. Since +then I have been worse and better, better and worse, but never able to +do any work and for a large part of the time forbidden to write and even +to play Patience, that last of civilised amusements. In brief, I have +been "the sheer hulk" to a degree almost outside of my experience, and I +desire all my friends to forgive me my sins of omission this while +back. I only wish you were the only one to whom I owe a letter, or many +letters. + +But you see, at least, you had done nothing to offend me; and I dare say +you will let me have a note from time to time, until we shall have +another chance to meet.--Yours sincerely, ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. + +An excellent new year to you, and many of them. + +If you chance to see a paragraph in the papers describing my illness, +and the "delicacies suitable to my invalid condition" cooked in copper, +and the other ridiculous and revolting yarns, pray regard it as a +spectral illusion, and pass by. + + + + +[MRS. R. L. STEVENSON TO JOHN ADDINGTON SYMONDS + + + I intercalate here Mrs. Stevenson's extremely vivid and + characteristic account of the weird misadventures that befell the + pair during their retreat from St. Marcel in search of a healthier + home. + + [_Campagne Defli, St. Marcel, January 1883._] + +MY DEAR MR. SYMONDS,--What must you think of us? I hardly dare write to +you. What do you do when people to whom you have been the dearest of +friends requite you by acting like fiends? I do hope you heap coals of +fire on their heads in the good old Christian sense. + +Louis has been very ill again. I hasten to say that he is now better. +But I thought at one time he would never be better again. He had +continual hemorrhages and became so weak that he was twice insensible in +one day, and was for a long time like one dead. At the worst fever broke +out in this village, typhus, I think, and all day the death-bells rang, +and we could hear the chanting whilst the wretched villagers carried +about their dead lying bare to the sun on their coffin-lids, so +spreading the contagion through the streets. The evening of the day when +Louis was so long insensible the weather changed, becoming very clear +and fine and greatly refreshing and reviving him. Then I said if it held +good he should start in the morning for Nice and try what a change might +do. Just at that time there was not money enough for the two of us, so +he had to start alone, though I expected soon to be able to follow him. +During the night a peasant-man died in a house in our garden, and in the +morning the corpse, hideously swollen in the stomach, was lying on its +coffin-lid at our gates. Fortunately it was taken away just before Louis +went, and he didn't see it nor hear anything about it until afterwards. +I had been back and forth all the morning from the door to the gates, +and from the gates to the door, in an agony lest Louis should have to +pass it on his way out. + +I was to have a despatch from Toulon where Louis was to pass the night, +two hours from St. Marcel, and another from Nice, some few hours +further, the next day. I waited one, two, three, four days, and no word +came. Neither telegram nor letter. The evening of the fourth day I went +to Marseilles and telegraphed to the Toulon and Nice stations and to the +bureau of police. I had been pouring out letters to every place I could +think of. The people at Marseilles were very kind and advised me to take +no further steps to find my husband. He was certainly dead, they said. +It was plain that he stopped at some little station on the road, +speechless and dying, and it was now too late to do anything; I had much +better return at once to my friends. "Eet ofen 'appens so," said the +Secretary, and "Oh yes, all right, very well," added a Swiss in a +sympathetic voice. I waited all night at Marseilles and got no answer, +all the next day and got no answer; then I went back to St. Marcel and +there was nothing there. At eight I started on the train with Lloyd who +had come for his holidays, but it only took us to Toulon where again I +telegraphed. At last I got an answer the next day at noon. I waited at +Toulon for the train I had reason to believe Louis travelled by, +intending to stop at every station and inquire for him until I got to +Nice. Imagine what those days were to me. I never received any of the +letters Louis had written to me, and he was reading the first he had +received from me when I knocked at his door. A week afterwards I had an +answer from the police. Louis was much better: the change and the +doctor, who seems very clever, have done wonderful things for him. It +was during this first day of waiting that I received your letter. There +was a vague comfort in it like a hand offered in the darkness, but I did +not read it until long after. + +We have had many other wild misadventures, Louis has twice (started) +actually from Nice under a misapprehension. At this moment I believe him +to be at Marseilles, stopping at the Hotel du Petit Louvre; I am +supposed to be packing here at St. Marcel, afterwards we are to go +somewhere, perhaps to the Lake of Geneva. My nerves were so shattered by +the terrible suspense I endured that memorable week that I have not been +fit to do much. When I was returning from Nice a dreadful old man with a +fat wife and a weak granddaughter sat opposite me and plied me with the +most extraordinary questions. He began by asking if Lloyd was any +connection of mine, and ended I believe by asking my mother's maiden +name. Another of the questions he put to me was where Louis wished to be +buried, and whether I could afford to have him embalmed when he died. +When the train stopped the only other passenger, a quiet man in a corner +who looked several times as if he wished to interfere and stop the old +man but was too shy, came to me and said that he knew Sidney Colvin and +he knew you, and that you were both friends of Louis; and that his name +was Basil Hammond,[1] and he wished to stay on a day in Marseilles and +help me work off my affairs. I accepted his offer with heartfelt thanks. +I was extremely ill next day, but we two went about and arranged about +giving up this house and what compensation, and did some things that I +could not have managed alone. My French is useful only in domestic +economy, and even that, I fear, is very curious and much of it patois. +Wasn't that a good fellow, and a kind fellow?--I cannot tell you how +grateful I am, words are such feeble things--at least for that purpose. +For anger, justifiable wrath, they are all too forcible. It was very bad +of me not to write to you, we talked of you so often and thought of you +so much, and I always said--"now I will write"--and then somehow I could +not.... + + FANNY V. DE G. STEVENSON.] + + + + +TO CHARLES BAXTER + + + After his Christmas flight to Marseilles and thence to Nice, + Stevenson began to mend quickly. In this letter to Mr. Baxter he + acknowledges the receipt of a specimen proof, set up for their + private amusement, of _Brashiana_, the series of burlesque sonnets he + had written at Davos in memory of the Edinburgh publican already + mentioned. It should be explained that in their correspondence + Stevenson and Mr. Baxter were accustomed to keep up an old play of + their student days by merging their identities in those of two + fictitious personages, Thomson and Johnson, imaginary types of + Edinburgh character, and ex-elders of the Scottish Kirk. + + _Grand Hotel, Nice, 12th January '83._ + +DEAR CHARLES,--Thanks for your good letter. It is true, man, God's +trueth, what ye say about the body Stevison. The deil himsel, it's my +belief, couldnae get the soul harled oot o' the creature's wame, or he +had seen the hinder end o' they proofs. Ye crack o' Maecenas, he's +naebody by you! He gied the lad Horace a rax forrit by all accounts; but +he never gied him proofs like yon. Horace may hae been a better hand at +the clink than Stevison--mind, I'm no sayin' 't--but onyway he was never +sae weel prentit. Damned, but it's bonny! Hoo mony pages will there be, +think ye? Stevison maun hae sent ye the feck o' twenty sangs--fifteen +I'se warrant. Weel, that'll can make thretty pages, gin ye were to prent +on ae side only, whilk wad be perhaps what a man o' your _great_ idees +would be ettlin' at, man Johnson. Then there wad be the Pre-face, an' +prose ye ken prents oot langer than po'try at the hinder end, for ye hae +to say things in't. An' then there'll be a title-page and a dedication +and an index wi' the first lines like, and the deil an' a'. Man, it'll +be grand. Nae copies to be given to the Liberys. + +I am alane myself, in Nice, they ca't, but damned, I think they micht as +well ca't Nesty. The Pile-on,[2] 's they ca't, 's aboot as big as the +river Tay at Perth; and it's rainin' maist like Greenock. Dod, I've seen +'s had mair o' what they ca' the I-talian at Muttonhole. I-talian! I +haenae seen the sun for eicht and forty hours. Thomson's better, I +believe. But the body's fair attenyated. He's doon to seeven stane +eleeven, an' he sooks awa' at cod liver ile, till it's a fair disgrace. +Ye see he tak's it on a drap brandy; and it's my belief, it's just an +excuse for a dram. He an' Stevison gang aboot their lane, maistly; +they're company to either, like, an' whiles they'll speak o' Johnson. +But _he's_ far awa', losh me! Stevison's last book 's in a third +edeetion; an' it's bein' translated (like the psaulms of David, nae +less) into French; and an eediot they ca' Asher--a kind o' rival of +Tauchnitz--is bringin' him oot in a paper book for the Frenchies and the +German folk in twa volumes. Sae he's in luck, ye see.--Yours, + + THOMSON. + + + + +TO SIDNEY COLVIN + + + Stevenson here narrates in his own fashion by what generalship he at + last got rid of the Campagne Defli without having to pay compensation + as his wife expected. + + _Hotel du Petit Louvre, Marseille, 15 Feb. 1883._ + +DEAR SIR,--This is to intimate to you that Mr. and Mrs. Robert Louis +Stevenson were yesterday safely delivered + + of a + Campagne. + +The parents are both doing much better than could be expected; +particularly the dear papa. + +There, Colvin, I did it this time. Huge success. The proprietaires were +scattered like chaff. If it had not been the agent, may Israel now say, +if it had not been the agent who was on our side! But I made the agent +march! I threatened law; I was Immense--what do I say?--Immeasurable. +The agent, however, behaved well and is a fairly honest little +one-eared, white-eyed tom-cat of an opera-going gold-hunter. The +proprietaire _non est inventa_; we countermarched her, got in valuators; +and in place of a hundred francs in her pocket, she got nothing, and I +paid _one_ silver biscuit! It _might_ go further but I am convinced will +not, and anyway, I fear not the consequences. + +The weather is incredible; my heart sings; my health satisfies even my +wife. I did jolly well right to come after all and she now admits it. +For she broke down as I knew she would, and I from here, without passing +a night at the Defli, though with a cruel effusion of coach-hires, took +up the wondrous tale and steered the ship through. I now sit crowned +with laurel and literally exulting in kudos. The affair has been better +managed than our two last winterings,--I am yours, + + BRABAZON DRUM. + + + + +TO ALISON CUNNINGHAM + + The verses referred to in the following are those of the _Child's + Garden_. + + [_Nice, February 1883._] + +MY DEAR CUMMY,--You must think, and quite justly, that I am one of the +meanest rogues in creation. But though I do not write (which is a thing +I hate), it by no means follows that people are out of my mind. It is +natural that I should always think more or less about you, and still +more natural that I should think of you when I went back to Nice. But +the real reason why you have been more in my mind than usual is because +of some little verses that I have been writing, and that I mean to make +a book of; and the real reason of this letter (although I ought to have +written to you anyway) is that I have just seen that the book in +question must be dedicated to + + ALISON CUNNINGHAM, + +the only person who will really understand it, I don't know when it may +be ready, for it has to be illustrated, but I hope in the meantime you +may like the idea of what is to be; and when the time comes, I shall try +to make the dedication as pretty as I can make it. Of course, this is +only a flourish, like taking off one's hat; but still, a person who has +taken the trouble to write things does not dedicate them to any one +without meaning it; and you must just try to take this dedication in +place of a great many things that I might have said, and that I ought to +have done, to prove that I am not altogether unconscious of the great +debt of gratitude I owe you. This little book, which is all about my +childhood, should indeed go to no other person but you, who did so much +to make that childhood happy. + +Do you know, we came very near sending for you this winter. If we had +not had news that you were ill too, I almost believe we should have done +so, we were so much in trouble. + +I am now very well; but my wife has had a very, very bad spell, through +overwork and anxiety, when I was _lost_! I suppose you heard of that. +She sends you her love, and hopes you will write to her, though she no +more than I deserves it. She would add a word herself, but she is too +played out.--I am, ever your old boy, + + R. L. S. + + + + +TO W. E. HENLEY + + + Stevenson was by this time beginning to send home some of the MS. of + the _Child's Garden_, the title of which had not yet been settled. + The pieces as first numbered are in a different order from that + afterwards adopted, but the reader will easily identify the + references. + + [_Nice, March 1883._] + +MY DEAR LAD,--This is to announce to you the MS. of Nursery Verses, now +numbering XLVIII. pieces or 599 verses, which, of course, one might +augment _ad infinitum_. + +But here is my notion to make all clear. + +I do not want a big ugly quarto; my soul sickens at the look of a +quarto. I want a refined octavo, not large--not _larger_ than the Donkey +book, at any price. + +I think the full page might hold four verses of four lines, that is to +say, counting their blanks at two, of twenty-two lines in height. The +first page of each number would only hold two verses or ten lines, the +title being low down. At this rate, we should have seventy-eight or +eighty pages of letterpress. + +The designs should not be in the text, but facing the poem; so that if +the artist liked, he might give two pages of design to every poem that +turned the leaf, _i.e._ longer than eight lines, _i.e._ to twenty-eight +out of the forty-six. I should say he would not use this privilege (?) +above five times, and some he might scorn to illustrate at all, so we +may say fifty drawings. I shall come to the drawings next. + +But now you see my book of the thickness, since the drawings count two +pages, of 180 pages; and since the paper will perhaps be thicker, of +near two hundred by bulk. It is bound in a quiet green with the words in +thin gilt. Its shape is a slender, tall octavo. And it sells for the +publisher's fancy, and it will be a darling to look at; in short, it +would be like one of the original Heine books in type and spacing. + +Now for the pictures. I take another sheet and begin to jot notes for +them when my imagination serves: I will run through the book, writing +when I have an idea. There, I have jotted enough to give the artist a +notion. Of course, I don't do more than contribute ideas, but I will be +happy to help in any and every way. I may as well add another idea; when +the artist finds nothing much to illustrate, a good drawing of any +_object_ mentioned in the text, were it only a loaf of bread or a +candlestick, is a most delightful thing to a young child. I remember +this keenly. + +Of course, if the artist insists on a larger form, I must, I suppose, +bow my head. But my idea I am convinced is the best, and would make the +book truly, not fashionably pretty. + +I forgot to mention that I shall have a dedication; I am going to +dedicate 'em to Cummy; it will please her, and lighten a little my +burthen of ingratitude. A low affair is the Muse business. + +I will add no more to this lest you should want to communicate with the +artist; try another sheet. I wonder how many I'll keep wandering to. + +O I forgot. As for the title, I think "Nursery Verses" the best. Poetry +is not the strong point of the text, and I shrink from any title that +might seem to claim that quality; otherwise we might have "Nursery +Muses" or "New Songs of Innocence" (but that were a blasphemy), or +"Rimes of Innocence": the last not bad, or--an idea--"The Jews' Harp," +or--now I have it--"The Penny Whistle." + + THE PENNY WHISTLE + + NURSERY VERSES + + BY + ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON + + ILLUSTRATED BY ---- ---- ---- + +And here we have an excellent frontispiece, of a party playing on a P. +W. to a little ring of dancing children. + + THE PENNY WHISTLE + is the name for me. + + +Fool! this is all wrong, here is the true name:-- + + PENNY WHISTLES + FOR SMALL WHISTLERS. + +The second title is queried, it is perhaps better, as simply PENNY +WHISTLES. + + Nor you, O Penny Whistler, grudge + That I your instrument debase: + By worse performers still we judge, + And give that fife a second place! + +Crossed penny whistles on the cover, or else a sheaf of 'em. + + SUGGESTIONS + +IV. The procession--the child running behind it. The procession tailing +off through the gates of a cloudy city. + +IX. _Foreign Lands._--This will, I think, want two plates--the child +climbing, his first glimpse over the garden wall, with what he sees--the +tree shooting higher and higher like the beanstalk, and the view +widening. The river slipping in. The road arriving in Fairyland. + +X. _Windy Nights._--The child in bed listening--the horseman galloping. + +XII. The child helplessly watching his ship--then he gets smaller, and +the doll joyfully comes alive--the pair landing on the island--the +ship's deck with the doll steering and the child firing the penny +cannon. Query two plates? The doll should never come properly alive. + +XV. Building of the ship--storing her--Navigation--Tom's accident, the +other child paying no attention. + +XXXI. _The Wind._--I sent you my notion of already. + +XXXVII. _Foreign Children._--The foreign types dancing in a jing-a-ring, +with the English child pushing in the middle. The foreign children +looking at and showing each other marvels. The English child at the +leeside of a roast of beef. The English child sitting thinking with his +picture-books all round him, and the jing-a-ring of the foreign +children in miniature dancing over the picture-books. + +XXXIX. Dear artist, can you do me that? + +XLII. The child being started off--the bed sailing, curtains and all, +upon the sea--the child waking and finding himself at home; the corner +of toilette might be worked in to look like the pier. + +XLVII. The lighted part of the room, to be carefully distinguished from +my child's dark hunting grounds. A shaded lamp. + + R. L. S. + + + + +TO MRS. THOMAS STEVENSON + + + _Hotel des Iles d'Or, Hyeres, Var, March 2 [1883]._ + +MY DEAR MOTHER,--It must be at least a fortnight since we have had a +scratch of a pen from you; and if it had not been for Cummy's letter, I +should have feared you were worse again: as it is, I hope we shall hear +from you to-day or to-morrow at latest. + +_Health._--Our news is good: Fanny never got so bad as we feared, and we +hope now that this attack may pass off in threatenings. I am greatly +better, have gained flesh, strength, spirits; eat well, walk a good +deal, and do some work without fatigue. I am off the sick list. + +_Lodging._--We have found a house up the hill, close to the town, an +excellent place though very, very little. If I can get the landlord to +agree to let us take it by the month just now, and let our month's rent +count for the year in case we take it on, you may expect to hear we are +again installed, and to receive a letter dated thus:-- + + La Solitude, + Hyeres-les-Palmiers, + Var. + +If the man won't agree to that, of course I must just give it up, as the +house would be dear enough anyway at 2000 f. However, I hope we may get +it, as it is healthy, cheerful, and close to shops, and society, and +civilisation. The garden, which is above, is lovely, and will be cool in +summer. There are two rooms below with a kitchen, and four rooms above, +all told.--Ever your affectionate son, R. L. STEVENSON. + + + + +TO THOMAS STEVENSON + + + "Cassandra" was a nickname of the elder Mr. Stevenson for his + daughter-in-law. The scheme of a play to be founded on _Great + Expectations_ was one of a hundred formed in these days and + afterwards given up. + + _Hotel des Iles d'Or, but my address will be Chalet la Solitude, + Hyeres-les-Palmiers, Var, France, March 17, 1883._ + +DEAR SIR,--Your undated favour from Eastbourne came to hand in course of +post, and I now hasten to acknowledge its receipt. We must ask you in +future, for the convenience of our business arrangements, to struggle +with and tread below your feet this most unsatisfactory and uncommercial +habit. Our Mr. Cassandra is better; our Mr. Wogg expresses himself +dissatisfied with our new place of business; when left alone in the +front shop, he bawled like a parrot; it is supposed the offices are +haunted. + +To turn to the matter of your letter, your remarks on _Great +Expectations_ are very good. We have both re-read it this winter, and I, +in a manner, twice. The object being a play; the play, in its rough +outline, I now see: and it is extraordinary how much of Dickens had to +be discarded as unhuman, impossible, and ineffective: all that really +remains is the loan of a file (but from a grown-up young man who knows +what he was doing, and to a convict who, although he does not know it is +his father--the father knows it is his son), and the fact of the +convict-father's return and disclosure of himself to the son whom he has +made rich. Everything else has been thrown aside; and the position has +had to be explained by a prologue which is pretty strong. I have great +hopes of this piece, which is very amiable and, in places, very strong +indeed: but it was curious how Dickens had to be rolled away; he had +made his story turn on such improbabilities, such fantastic trifles, not +on a good human basis, such as I recognised. You are right about the +casts, they were a capital idea; a good description of them at first, +and then afterwards, say second, for the lawyer to have illustrated +points out of the history of the originals, dusting the particular +bust--that was all the development the thing would bear. Dickens killed +them. The only really well _executed_ scenes are the riverside ones; the +escape in particular is excellent; and I may add, the capture of the two +convicts at the beginning. Miss Havisham is, probably, the worst thing +in human fiction. But Wemmick I like; and I like Trabb's boy; and Mr. +Wopsle as Hamlet is splendid. + +The weather here is greatly improved, and I hope in three days to be in +the chalet. That is, if I get some money to float me there. + +I hope you are all right again, and will keep better. The month of March +is past its mid career; it must soon begin to turn toward the lamb; here +it has already begun to do so; and I hope milder weather will pick you +up. Wogg has eaten a forpet of rice and milk, his beard is streaming, +his eyes wild. I am besieged by demands of work from America. + +The L50 has just arrived; many thanks; I am now at ease.--Ever your +affectionate son, _pro_ Cassandra, Wogg and Co., + + R. L. S. + + + + +TO W. E. HENLEY + + + [_Chalet la Solitude, Hyeres, April 1883._] + +My head is singing with _Otto_; for the first two weeks I wrote and +revised and only finished IV chapters: last week, I have just drafted +straight ahead, and I have just finished Chapter XI. It will want a heap +of oversight and much will not stand, but the pace is good; about 28 +Cornhill pp. drafted in seven days, and almost all of it +dialogue--indeed I may say all, for I have dismissed the rest very +summarily in the draft: one can always tickle at that. At the same rate, +the draft should be finished in ten days more; and then I shall have the +pleasure of beginning again at the beginning. Ah damned job! I have no +idea whether or not Otto will be good. It is all pitched pretty high and +stilted; almost like the Arabs, at that; but of course there is +love-making in Otto, and indeed a good deal of it. I sometimes feel very +weary; but the thing travels--and I like it when I am at it. + +Remember me kindly to all.--Your ex-contributor, + + R. L. S. + + + + +TO MRS. SITWELL + + His correspondent had at his request been writing and despatching to + him fair copies of the various sets of verses for the _Child's + Garden_ (as the collection was ultimately called), which he had been + from time to time sending home. + + _Chalet la Solitude, Hyeres [April 1883]._ + +MY DEAR FRIEND,--I am one of the lowest of the--but that's understood. I +received the copy, excellently written, with I think only one slip from +first to last. I have struck out two, and added five or six; so they now +number forty-five; when they are fifty, they shall out on the world. I +have not written a letter for a cruel time; I have been, and am, so +busy, drafting a long story (for me, I mean), about a hundred Cornhill +pages, or say about as long as the Donkey book: _Prince Otto_ it is +called, and is, at the present hour, a sore burthen but a hopeful. If I +had him all drafted, I should whistle and sing. But no: then I'll have +to rewrite him; and then there will be the publishers, alas! But some +time or other, I shall whistle and sing, I make no doubt. + +I am going to make a fortune, it has not yet begun, for I am not yet +clear of debt; but as soon as I can, I begin upon the fortune. I shall +begin it with a halfpenny, and it shall end with horses and yachts and +all the fun of the fair. This is the first real grey hair in my +character: rapacity has begun to show, the greed of the protuberant +guttler. Well, doubtless, when the hour strikes, we must all guttle and +protube. But it comes hard on one who was always so willow-slender and +as careless as the daisies. + +Truly I am in excellent spirits. I have crushed through a financial +crisis; Fanny is much better; I am in excellent health, and work from +four to five hours a day--from one to two above my average, that is; and +we all dwell together and make fortunes in the loveliest house you ever +saw, with a garden like a fairy story, and a view like a classical +landscape. + +Little? Well, it is not large. And when you come to see us, you will +probably have to bed at the hotel, which is hard by. But it is Eden, +madam, Eden and Beulah and the Delectable Mountains and Eldorado and the +Hesperidean Isles and Bimini.[3] + +We both look forward, my dear friend, with the greatest eagerness to +have you here. It seems it is not to be this season: but I appoint you +with an appointment for next season. You cannot see us else: remember +that. Till my health has grown solid like an oak-tree, till my fortune +begins really to spread its boughs like the same monarch of the woods +(and the acorn, ay de mi! is not yet planted), I expect to be a prisoner +among the palms. + +Yes, it is like old times to be writing you from the Riviera, and after +all that has come and gone, who can predict anything? How fortune +tumbles men about! Yet I have not found that they change their friends, +thank God. + +Both of our loves to your sister and yourself. As for me, if I am here +and happy, I know to whom I owe it; I know who made my way for me in +life, if that were all, and I remain, with love, your faithful friend, + + ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. + + + + +TO EDMUND GOSSE + + + "Gilder" in the following is of course the late R. W. Gilder, for + many years the admirable editor of the Century Magazine. + + _Chalet la Solitude, Hyeres [April 1883]._ + +MY DEAR GOSSE,--I am very guilty; I should have written to you long ago; +and now, though it must be done, I am so stupid that I can only boldly +recapitulate. A phrase of three members is the outside of my syntax. + +First, I like the _Rover_ better than any of your other verse. I believe +you are right, and can make stories in verse. The last two stanzas and +one or two in the beginning--but the two last above all--I thought +excellent. I suggest a pursuit of the vein. If you want a good story to +treat, get the _Memoirs of the Chevalier Johnstone_, and do his passage +of the Tay; it would be excellent: the dinner in the field, the woman he +has to follow, the dragoons, the timid boatmen, the brave lasses. It +would go like a charm; look at it, and you will say you owe me one. + +Second, Gilder asking me for fiction, I suddenly took a great resolve, +and have packed off to him my new work, _The Silverado Squatters_. I do +not for a moment suppose he will take it; but pray say all the good +words you can for it. I should be awfully glad to get it taken. But if +it does not mean dibbs at once, I shall be ruined for life. Pray write +soon and beg Gilder your prettiest for a poor gentleman in pecuniary +sloughs. + +Fourth, next time I am supposed to be at death's door write to me like +a Christian, and let not your correspondence attend on business.--Yours +ever, + + R. L. S. + + +_P.S._--I see I have led you to conceive the _Squatters_ are fiction. +They are not, alas! + + + + +TO MR. AND MRS. THOMAS STEVENSON + + + _Chalet la Solitude, May 5 [1883]._ + +MY DEAREST PEOPLE,--I have had a great piece of news. There has been +offered for _Treasure Island_--how much do you suppose? I believe it +would be an excellent jest to keep the answer till my next letter. For +two cents I would do so. Shall I? Anyway, I'll turn the page first. +No--well--A hundred pounds, all alive, O! A hundred jingling, tingling, +golden, minted quid. Is not this wonderful? Add that I have now +finished, in draft, the fifteenth chapter of my novel, and have only +five before me, and you will see what cause of gratitude I have. + +The weather, to look at the per contra sheet, continues vomitable; and +Fanny is quite out of sorts. But, really, with such cause of gladness, I +have not the heart to be dispirited by anything. My child's verse book +is finished, dedication and all, and out of my hands--you may tell +Cummy; _Silverado_ is done, too, and cast upon the waters; and this +novel so near completion, it does look as if I should support myself +without trouble in the future. If I have only health, I can, I thank +God. It is dreadful to be a great, big man, and not be able to buy +bread. + +O that this may last! + +I have to-day paid my rent for the half year, till the middle of +September, and got my lease: why they have been so long, I know not. + +I wish you all sorts of good things. + +When is our marriage day?--Your loving and ecstatic son, + + TREESURE EILAAN. + +It has been for me a Treasure Island verily. + + + + +TO MR. AND MRS. THOMAS STEVENSON + + + _La Solitude, Hyeres, May 8, 1883._ + +MY DEAR PEOPLE,--I was disgusted to hear my father was not so well. I +have a most troubled existence of work and business. But the work goes +well, which is the great affair. I meant to have written a most +delightful letter; too tired, however, and must stop. Perhaps I'll find +time to add to it ere post. + +I have returned refreshed from eating, but have little time, as Lloyd +will go soon with the letters on his way to his tutor, Louis Robert +(!!!!), with whom he learns Latin in French, and French, I suppose, in +Latin, which seems to me a capital education. He, Lloyd, is a great +bicycler already, and has been long distances; he is most new-fangled +over his instrument, and does not willingly converse on other subjects. + +Our lovely garden is a prey to snails; I have gathered about a bushel, +which, not having the heart to slay, I steal forth withal and deposit +near my neighbour's garden wall. As a case of casuistry, this presents +many points of interest. I loathe the snails, but from loathing to +actual butchery, trucidation of multitudes, there is still a step that I +hesitate to take. What, then, to do with them? My neighbour's vineyard, +pardy! It is a rich, villa, pleasure-garden of course; if it were a +peasant's patch, the snails, I suppose, would have to perish. + +The weather these last three days has been much better, though it is +still windy and unkind. I keep splendidly well, and am cruelly busy, +with mighty little time even for a walk. And to write at all, under such +pressure, must be held to lean to virtue's side. + +My financial prospects are shining. O if the health will hold, I should +easily support myself.--Your ever affectionate son, + + R. L. S. + + + + +TO EDMUND GOSSE + + + _La Solitude, Hyeres-les-Palmiers, Var [May 20, 1883]._ + +MY DEAR GOSSE,--I enclose the receipt and the corrections. As for your +letter and Gilder's, I must take an hour or so to think; the matter much +importing--to me. The L40 was a heavenly thing. + +I send the MS. by Henley, because he acts for me in all matters, and had +the thing, like all my other books, in his detention. He is my unpaid +agent--an admirable arrangement for me, and one that has rather more +than doubled my income on the spot. + +If I have been long silent, think how long you were so and blush, sir, +blush. + +I was rendered unwell by the arrival of your cheque, and, like Pepys, +"my hand still shakes to write of it." To this grateful emotion, and not +to D.T., please attribute the raggedness of my hand. + +This year I should be able to live and keep my family on my own +earnings, and that in spite of eight months and more of perfect idleness +at the end of last and beginning of this. It is a sweet thought. + +This spot, our garden and our view, are sub-celestial. I sing daily with +my Bunyan, that great bard, + + "I dwell already the next door to Heaven!" + +If you could see my roses, and my aloes, and my fig-marigolds, and my +olives, and my view over a plain, and my view of certain mountains as +graceful as Apollo, as severe as Zeus, you would not think the phrase +exaggerated. + +It is blowing to-day a _hot_ mistral, which is the devil or a near +connection of his. + +This to catch the post.--Yours affectionately, + + R. L. STEVENSON. + + + + +TO EDMUND GOSSE + + + _La Solitude, Hyeres-les-Palmiers, Var, France, May 21, 1883._ + +MY DEAR GOSSE,--The night giveth advice, generally bad advice; but I +have taken it. And I have written direct to Gilder to tell him to keep +the book[4] back and go on with it in November at his leisure. I do not +know if this will come in time; if it doesn't, of course things will go +on in the way proposed. The L40, or, as I prefer to put it, the 1000 +francs, has been such a piercing sun-ray as my whole grey life is gilt +withal. On the back of it I can endure. If these good days of Longman +and the Century only last, it will be a very green world, this that we +dwell in and that philosophers miscall. I have no taste for that +philosophy; give me large sums paid on the receipt of the MS. and +copyright reserved, and what do I care about the non-beent? Only I know +it can't last. The devil always has an imp or two in every house, and my +imps are getting lively. The good lady, the dear, kind lady, the sweet, +excellent lady, Nemesis, whom alone I adore, has fixed her wooden eye +upon me. I fall prone; spare me, Mother Nemesis! But catch her! + +I must now go to bed; for I have had a whoreson influenza cold, and have +to lie down all day, and get up only to meals and the delights, June +delights, of business correspondence. + +You said nothing about my subject for a poem. Don't you like it? My own +fishy eye has been fixed on it for prose, but I believe it could be +thrown out finely in verse, and hence I resign and pass the hand. Twig +the compliment?--Yours affectionately, + + R. L. S. + + + + +TO W. E. HENLEY + + + "Tushery" had been a name in use between Stevenson and Mr. Henley for + romances of the _Ivanhoe_ type. He now applies it to his own tale of + the Wars of the Roses, _The Black Arrow_, written for Mr. Henderson's + Young Folks, of which the office was in Red Lion Court. + + [Hyeres, May 1883.] + +... The influenza has busted me a good deal; I have no spring, and am +headachy. So, as my good Red Lion Courier begged me for another +Butcher's Boy--I turned me to--what thinkest 'ou?--to Tushery, by the +mass! Ay, friend, a whole tale of tushery. And every tusher tushes me so +free, that may I be tushed if the whole thing is worth a tush. _The +Black Arrow: A Tale of Tunstall Forest_ is his name: tush! a poor thing! + +Will _Treasure Island_ proofs be coming soon, think you? + +I will now make a confession. It was the sight of your maimed strength +and masterfulness that begot John Silver in _Treasure Island_. Of +course, he is not in any other quality or feature the least like you; +but the idea of the maimed man, ruling and dreaded by the sound, was +entirely taken from you. + +Otto is, as you say, not a thing to extend my public on. It is queer and +a little, little bit free; and some of the parties are immoral; and the +whole thing is not a romance, nor yet a comedy; nor yet a romantic +comedy; but a kind of preparation of some of the elements of all three +in a glass jar. I think it is not without merit, but I am not always on +the level of my argument, and some parts are false, and much of the rest +is thin; it is more a triumph for myself than anything else; for I see, +beyond it, better stuff. I have nine chapters ready, or almost ready, +for press. My feeling would be to get it placed anywhere for as much as +could be got for it, and rather in the shadow, till one saw the look of +it in print.--Ever yours, + + PRETTY SICK. + + + + +TO W. E. HENLEY + + + _La Solitude, Hyeres-les-Palmiers, May 1883._ + +MY DEAR LAD,--The books came some time since, but I have not had the +pluck to answer: a shower of small troubles having fallen in, or +troubles that may be very large. + +I have had to incur a huge vague debt for cleaning sewers; our house was +(of course) riddled with hidden cesspools, but that was infallible. I +have the fever, and feel the duty to work very heavy on me at times; yet +go it must. I have had to leave _Fontainebleau_, when three hours would +finish it, and go full-tilt at tushery for a while. But it will come +soon. + +I think I can give you a good article on Hokusai; but that is for +afterwards; _Fontainebleau_ is first in hand. + +By the way, my view is to give the _Penny Whistles_ to Crane or +Greenaway. But Crane, I think, is likeliest; he is a fellow who, at +least, always does his best. + +Shall I ever have money enough to write a play? + +O dire necessity! + +A word in your ear: I don't like trying to support myself. I hate the +strain and the anxiety; and when unexpected expenses are foisted on me, +I feel the world is playing with false dice.--Now I must Tush, adieu. + + AN ACHING, FEVERED, PENNY-JOURNALIST. + + + A lytle Jape of TUSHERIE. + + By A. Tusher. + + The pleasant river gushes + Among the meadows green; + At home the author tushes; + For him it flows unseen. + + The Birds among the Bushes + May wanton on the spray; + But vain for him who tushes + The brightness of the day! + + The frog among the rushes + Sits singing in the blue. + By'r la'kin! but these tushes + Are wearisome to do! + + The task entirely crushes + The spirit of the bard: + God pity him who tushes-- + His task is very hard. + + The filthy gutter slushes, + The clouds are full of rain, + But doomed is he who tushes + To tush and tush again. + + At morn with his hair-br_u_shes, + Still "tush" he says, and weeps; + At night again he tushes, + And tushes till he sleeps. + + And when at length he pushes + Beyond the river dark-- + 'Las, to the man who tushes, + "Tush," shall be God's remark! + + + + +TO SIDNEY COLVIN + + + [_Chalet la Solitude, Hyeres, May 1883._] + +COLVIN,--The attempt to correspond with you is vain. Well, well, then so +be it. I will from time to time write you an insulting letter, brief but +monstrous harsh. I regard you in the light of a genteel impostor. Your +name figures in the papers but never to a piece of letter-paper: well, +well. + +News. I am well: Fanny been ill but better: _Otto_ about three-quarters +done; _Silverado_ proofs a terrible job--it is a most unequal work--new +wine in old bottles--large rats, small bottles:[5] as usual, +penniless--O but penniless: still, with four articles in hand (say L35) +and the L100 for _Silverado_ imminent, not hopeless. + +Why am I so penniless, ever, ever penniless, ever, ever +penny-penny-penniless and dry? + + The birds upon the thorn, + The poppies in the corn, + They surely are more fortunate or prudenter than I! + +In Arabia, everybody is called the Father of something or other for +convenience or insult's sake. Thus you are "the Father of Prints," or of +"Bummkopferies," or "Father of Unanswered Correspondence." They would +instantly dub Henley "the Father of Wooden Legs"; me they would +denominate the "Father of Bones," and Matthew Arnold "the Father of +Eyeglasses." + +I have accepted most of the excisions. Proposed titles:-- + + The Innocent Muse. + A Child's Garden of Rhymes. + Songs of the Playroom. + Nursery Songs. + +I like the first? + + R. L. S. + + + + +TO W. E. HENLEY + + + _La Solitude, Hyeres, May or June 1883._ + +DEAR LAD,--Snatches in return for yours; for this little once, I'm well +to windward of you. + +Seventeen chapters of _Otto_ are now drafted, and finding I was working +through my voice and getting screechy, I have turned back again to +rewrite the earlier part. It has, I do believe, some merit: of what +order, of course, I am the last to know; and, triumph of triumphs, my +wife--my wife who hates and loathes and slates my women--admits a great +part of my Countess to be on the spot. + +Yes, I could borrow, but it is the joy of being before the public, for +once. Really, L100 is a sight more than _Treasure Island_ is worth. + +The reason of my _deche_? Well, if you begin one house, have to desert +it, begin another, and are eight months without doing any work, you will +be in a _deche_ too. I am not in a _deche_, however; _distingue_--I +would fain distinguish; I am rather a swell, but _not solvent_. At a +touch the edifice, _aedificium_, might collapse. If my creditors began to +babble around me, I would sink with a slow strain of music into the +crimson west. The difficulty in my elegant villa is to find oil, +_oleum_, for the dam axles. But I've paid my rent until September; and +beyond the chemist, the grocer, the baker, the doctor, the gardener, +Lloyd's teacher, and the great chief creditor Death, I can snap my +fingers at all men. Why will people spring bills on you? I try to make +'em charge me at the moment; they won't, the money goes, the debt +remains.--The Required Play is in the _Merry Men_. + + Q. E. F. + + +I thus render honour to your _flair_; it came on me of a clap; I do not +see it yet beyond a kind of sunset glory. But it's there: passion, +romance, the picturesque, involved: startling, simple, horrid: a +sea-pink in sea-froth! _S'agit de la desenterrer._ "Help!" cries a +buried masterpiece. + +Once I see my way to the year's end, clear, I turn to plays; till then I +grind at letters; finish _Otto_; write, say, a couple of my _Traveller's +Tales_; and then, if all my ships come home, I will attack the drama in +earnest. I cannot mix the skeins. Thus, though I'm morally sure there +is a play in _Otto_, I dare not look for it: I shoot straight at the +story. + +As a story, a comedy, I think _Otto_ very well constructed; the echoes +are very good, all the sentiments change round, and the points of view +are continually, and, I think (if you please), happily contrasted. None +of it is exactly funny, but some of it is smiling. + + R. L. S. + + + + +TO W. E. HENLEY + + + The verses alluded to are some of those afterwards collected in + _Underwoods_. + + [_Chalet la Solitude, Hyeres, May or June 1883._] + +DEAR HENLEY,--You may be surprised to hear that I am now a great writer +of verses; that is, however, so. I have the mania now like my betters, +and faith, if I live till I am forty, I shall have a book of rhymes like +Pollock, Gosse, or whom you please. Really, I have begun to learn some +of the rudiments of that trade, and have written three or four pretty +enough pieces of octosyllabic nonsense, semi-serious, semi-smiling. A +kind of prose Herrick, divested of the gift of verse, and you behold the +Bard. But I like it. + + R. L. S. + + + + +TO JULES SIMONEAU + + + This friend was the keeper of the inn and restaurant where Stevenson + had boarded at Monterey in the autumn of 1879. In writing French, as + will be seen, Stevenson had always more grip of idiom than of + grammar. + + [_La Solitude, Hyeres, May or June 1883_.] + +MON CHER ET BON SIMONEAU,--J'ai commence plusieurs fois de vous ecrire; +et voila-t-il pas qu'un empechement quelconque est arrive toujours. La +lettre ne part pas; et je vous laisse toujours dans le droit de +soupconner mon coeur. Mon bon ami, ne pensez pas que je vous ai +oublie ou que je vous oublierai jamais. Il n'en est de rien. Votre bon +souvenir me tient de bien pres, et je le garderai jusqu'a la mort. + +J'ai failli mourir de bien pres; mais me voici bien retabli, bien que +toujours un peu chetif et malingre. J'habite, comme vous voyez, la +France. Je travaille beaucoup, et je commence a ne pas etre le dernier; +deja on me dispute ce que j'ecris, et je n'ai pas a me plaindre de ce +que l'on appelle les honoraires. Me voici alors tres affaire, tres +heureux dans mon menage, gate par ma femme, habitant la plus petite +maisonette dans le plus beau jardin du monde, et voyant de mes fen etres +la mer, les isles d'Hyeres, et les belles collines, montagnes et forts +de Toulon. + +Et vous, mon tres cher ami? Comment cela va-t-il? Comment vous +portez-vous? Comment va le commerce? Comment aimez vous le pays? et +l'enfant? et la femme? Et enfin toutes les questions possibles. +Ecrivez-moi donc bien vite, cher Simoneau. Et quant a moi, je vous +promets que vous entendrez bien vite parler de moi; je vous _recrirai_ +sous peu, et je vous enverrai un de mes livres. Ceci n'est qu'un +serrement de main, _from the bottom of my heart, dear and kind old +man_.--Your friend, + + ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. + + + + +TO W. E. HENLEY + + + The "new dictionary" means, of course, the first instalments of the + great Oxford Dictionary of the English Language, edited by Dr. J. A. + H. Murray. + + _La Solitude, Hyeres [June 1883]._ + +DEAR LAD,--I was delighted to hear the good news about ----. Bravo, he +goes uphill fast. Let him beware of vanity, and he will go higher; let +him be still discontented, and let him (if it might be) see the merits +and not the faults of his rivals, and he may swarm at last to the +top-gallant. There is no other way. Admiration is the only road to +excellence; and the critical spirit kills, but envy and injustice are +putrefaction on its feet. + +Thus far the moralist. The eager author now begs to know whether you may +have got the other Whistles, and whether a fresh proof is to be taken; +also whether in that case the dedication should not be printed +therewith; _B_ulk _D_elights _P_ublishers (original aphorism; to be said +sixteen times in succession as a test of sobriety). + +Your wild and ravening commands were received; but cannot be obeyed. And +anyway, I do assure you I am getting better every day; and if the +weather would but turn, I should soon be observed to walk in hornpipes. +Truly I am on the mend. I am still very careful. I have the new +dictionary; a joy, a thing of beauty, and--bulk. I shall be raked i' the +mools before it's finished; that is the only pity; but meanwhile I sing. + +I beg to inform you that I, Robert Louis Stevenson, author of +_Brashiana_ and other works, am merely beginning to commence to prepare +to make a first start at trying to understand my profession. O the +height and depth of novelty and worth in any art! and O that I am +privileged to swim and shoulder through such oceans! Could one get out +of sight of land--all in the blue? Alas not, being anchored here in +flesh, and the bonds of logic being still about us. + +But what a great space and a great air there is in these small shallows +where alone we venture! and how new each sight, squall, calm, or +sunrise! An art is a fine fortune, a palace in a park, a band of music, +health, and physical beauty; all but love--to any worthy practiser. I +sleep upon my art for a pillow; I waken in my art; I am unready for +death, because I hate to leave it. I love my wife, I do not know how +much, nor can, nor shall, unless I lost her; but while I can conceive my +being widowed, I refuse the offering of life without my art. I _am_ not +but in my art; it is me; I am the body of it merely. + +And yet I produce nothing, am the author of _Brashiana_ and other works: +tiddy-iddity--as if the works one wrote were anything but 'prentice's +experiments. Dear reader, I deceive you with husks, the real works and +all the pleasure are still mine and incommunicable. After this break in +my work, beginning to return to it, as from light sleep, I wax +exclamatory, as you see. + + Sursum Corda: + Heave ahead: + Here's luck. + Art and Blue Heaven, + April and God's Larks. + Green reeds and the sky-scattering river. + A stately music. + Enter God! + + R. L. S. + + +Ay, but you know, until a man can write that "Enter God," he has made no +art! None! Come, let us take counsel together and make some! + + + + +TO TREVOR HADDON + + + During the height of the Provencal summer, for July and part of + August, Stevenson went with his wife to the Baths of Royat in + Auvergne (travelling necessarily by way of Clermont-Ferrand). His + parents joined them at Royat for part of their visit. This and + possibly the next following letters were written during the trip. The + news here referred to was that his correspondent had won a + scholarship at the Slade School. + + _La Solitude, Hyeres. But just now writing from + Clermont-Ferrand, July 5, 1883._ + +DEAR MR. HADDON,--Your note with its piece of excellent news duly +reached me. I am delighted to hear of your success: selfishly so; for it +is pleasant to see that one whom I suppose I may call an admirer is no +fool. I wish you more and more prosperity, and to be devoted to your +art. An art is the very gist of life; it grows with you; you will never +weary of an art at which you fervently and superstitiously labour. +Superstitiously: I mean, think more of it than it deserves; be blind to +its faults, as with a wife or father; forget the world in a technical +trifle. The world is very serious; art is the cure of that, and must be +taken very lightly; but to take art lightly, you must first be stupidly +owlishly in earnest over it. When I made Casimir say "Tiens" at the end, +I made a blunder. I thought it was what Casimir would have said and I +put it down. As your question shows, it should have been left out. It +was a "patch" of realism, and an anti-climax. Beware of realism; it is +the devil; 'tis one of the means of art, and now they make it the end! +And such is the farce of the age in which a man lives, that we all, even +those of us who most detest it, sin by realism. + +Notes for the student of any art. + +1. Keep an intelligent eye upon _all_ the others. It is only by doing so +that you come to see what Art is: Art is the end common to them all, it +is none of the points by which they differ. + +2. In this age beware of realism. + +3. In your own art, bow your head over technique. Think of technique +when you rise and when you go to bed. Forget purposes in the meanwhile; +get to love technical processes; to glory in technical successes; get to +see the world entirely through technical spectacles, to see it entirely +in terms of what you can do. Then when you have anything to say, the +language will be apt and copious. + +My health is better. + +I have no photograph just now; but when I get one you shall have a copy. +It will not be like me; sometimes I turn out a capital, fresh bank +clerk; once I came out the image of Runjeet Singh; again the treacherous +sun has fixed me in the character of a travelling evangelist. It's quite +a lottery; but whatever the next venture proves to be, soldier, sailor, +tinker, tailor, you shall have a proof. Reciprocate. The truth is I have +no appearance; a certain air of disreputability is the one constant +character that my face presents: the rest change like water. But still I +am lean, and still disreputable. + +Cling to your youth. It is an artistic stock in trade. Don't give in +that you are ageing, and you won't age. I have exactly the same faults +and qualities still; only a little duller, greedier and better tempered; +a little less tolerant of pain and more tolerant of tedium. The last is +a great thing for life but--query?--a bad endowment for art? + +Another note for the art student. + +4. See the good in other people's work; it will never be yours. See the +bad in your own, and don't cry about it; it will be there always. Try to +use your faults; at any rate use your knowledge of them, and don't run +your head against stone walls. Art is not like theology; nothing is +forced. You have not to represent the world. You have to represent only +what you can represent with pleasure and effect, and the only way to +find out what that is is by technical exercise.--Yours sincerely, + + ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. + + + + +TO JULES SIMONEAU + + + [_Hyeres or Royat, Summer 1883._] + +MY DEAR FRIEND SIMONEAU,--It would be difficult to tell how glad I was +to get your letter with your good news and kind remembrances, it did my +heart good to the bottom. I shall never forget the good time we had +together, the many long talks, the games of chess, the flute on an +occasion, and the excellent food. Now I am in clover, only my health a +mere ruined temple; the ivy grows along its shattered front, otherwise, +I have no wish that is not fulfilled: a beautiful large garden, a fine +view of plain, sea and mountain; a wife that suits me down to the +ground, and a barrel of good Beaujolais. To this I must add that my +books grow steadily more popular, and if I could only avoid illness I +should be well to do for money, as it is, I keep pretty near the wind. +Have I other means? I doubt it. I saw Francois here; and it was in some +respects sad to see him, pining in the ungenial life and not, I think, +very well pleased with his relatives. The young men, it is true, adored +him, but his niece tried to pump me about what money I had, with an +effrontery I was glad to disappoint. How he spoke of you I need not tell +you. He is your true friend, dear Simoneau, and your ears should have +tingled when we met, for we talked of little but yourself. + +The papers you speak about are past dates but I will send you a paper +from time to time, as soon as I am able to go out again. We were both +well pleased to hear of your marriage, and both Mrs. Stevenson and +myself beg to be remembered with the kindest wishes to Mrs. Simoneau. I +am glad you have done this. All races are better away from their own +country; but I think you French improve the most of all. At home, I like +you well enough, but give me the Frenchman abroad! Had you stayed at +home, you would probably have acted otherwise. Consult your +consciousness, and you will think as I do. How about a law condemning +the people of every country to be educated in another, to change sons in +short? Should we not gain all around? Would not the Englishman unlearn +hypocrisy? Would not the Frenchman learn to put some heart into his +friendships? I name what strikes me as the two most obvious defects of +the two nations. The French might also learn to be a little less +rapacious to women and the English to be a little more honest. + +Indeed their merits and defects make a balance. + + The English. The French. + hypocrites free from hypocrisy + good, stout reliable friends incapable of friendship + dishonest to the root fairly honest + fairly decent to women. rather indecent to women. + +There is my table, not at all the usual one, but yes, I think you will +agree with it. And by travel, each race can cure much of its defects and +acquire much of the others' virtues. Let us say that you and I are +complete! You are anyway: I would not change a hair of you. The +Americans hold the English faults: dishonest and hypocrites, perhaps not +so strongly but still to the exclusion of others. It is strange that +such mean defects should be so hard to eradicate, after a century of +separation, and so great an admixture of other blood. + +Your stay in Mexico must have been interesting indeed: and it is natural +you should be so keen against the Church on this side, we have a painful +exhibition of the other side: the _libre-penseur_ a mere priest without +the sacraments, the narrowest tyranny of intolerance popular, and in +fact a repetition in the XIXth century of theological ill-feeling minus +the sermons. We have speeches instead. I met the other day one of the +new lay schoolmasters of France; a pleasant cultivated man, and for some +time listened to his ravings. "In short," I said, "you are like Louis +Quatorze, you wish to drive out of France all who do not agree with +you." I thought he would protest; not he!--"Oui, Monsieur," was his +answer. And that is the cause of liberty and free thought! But the race +of man was born tyrannical; doubtless Adam beat Eve, and when all the +rest are dead the last man will be found beating the last dog. In the +land of Padre d. R. you see the old tyranny still active on its +crutches; in this land, I begin to see the new, a fat fellow, out of +leading-strings and already killing flies. + +This letter drones along unprofitably enough. Let me put a period to my +divagations. Write again soon, and let me hear good news of you, and I +will try to be more quick of answer. + +And with the best wishes to yourself and all your family, believe me, +your sincere friend, + + ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. + + + + +TO ALISON CUNNINGHAM + + + The persons mentioned below in the third paragraph are cousins of the + writer and playmates of his childhood; two of them, christened Lewis + like himself after their Balfour grandfather, had been nicknamed + after their birthplaces "Delhi" and "Cramond" to avoid confusion. + Mount Chessie is a beautiful place near Lasswade: "Cummy" has + described his delight when she cut whistles for him there out of a + plane-tree. + + [_Hyeres or Royat, Summer_ 1883.] + +MY DEAR CUMMY,--Yes, I own I am a real bad correspondent, and am as bad +as can be in most directions. + +I have been adding some more poems to your book. I wish they would look +sharp about it; but, you see, they are trying to find a good artist to +make the illustrations, without which no child would give a kick for it. +It will be quite a fine work, I hope. The dedication is a poem too, and +has been quite a long while written, but I do not mean you to see it +till you get the book; keep the jelly for the last, you know, as you +would often recommend in former days, so now you can take your own +medicine. + +I am very sorry to hear you have been so poorly; I have been very well; +it used to be quite the other way, used it not? Do you remember making +the whistle at Mount Chessie? I do not think it _was_ my knife; I +believe it was yours; but rhyme is a very great monarch, and goes before +honesty, in these affairs at least. Do you remember, at Warriston, one +autumn Sunday, when the beech nuts were on the ground, seeing heaven +open? I would like to make a rhyme of that, but cannot. + +Is it not strange to think of all the changes: Bob, Cramond, Delhi, +Minnie, and Henrietta, all married, and fathers and mothers, and your +humble servant just the one point better off? And such a little while +ago all children together! The time goes swift and wonderfully even; and +if we are no worse than we are, we should be grateful to the power that +guides us. For more than a generation I have now been to the fore in +this rough world, and been most tenderly helped, and done cruelly wrong, +and yet escaped; and here I am still, the worse for wear, but with some +fight in me still, and not unthankful--no, surely not unthankful, or I +were then the worst of human things! + +My little dog is a very much better child in every way, both more loving +and more amiable; but he is not fond of strangers, and is, like most of +his kind, a great, specious humbug. + +Fanny has been ill, but is much better again; she now goes donkey rides +with an old woman, who compliments her on her French. That old +woman--seventy odd--is in a parlous spiritual state. + +Pretty soon, in the new sixpenny illustrated magazine, Wogg's picture is +to appear: this is a great honour! And the poor soul, whose vanity would +just explode if he could understand it, will never be a bit the +wiser!--With much love, in which Fanny joins, believe me, your +affectionate boy, + + ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. + + + + +TO EDMUND GOSSE + + + The reference is to Mr. Gosse's volume called _Seventeenth Century + Studies_. + + [_Hyeres or Royat, Summer 1883._] + +MY DEAR GOSSE,--I have now leisurely read your volume; pretty soon, by +the way, you will receive one of mine. + +It is a pleasant, instructive, and scholarly volume. The three best +being, quite out of sight--Crashaw, Otway, and Etherege. They are +excellent; I hesitate between them; but perhaps Crashaw is the most +brilliant. + +Your Webster is not my Webster; nor your Herrick my Herrick. On these +matters we must fire a gun to leeward, show our colours, and go by. +Argument is impossible. They are two of my favourite authors: Herrick +above all: I suppose they are two of yours. Well, Janus-like, they do +behold us two with diverse countenances, few features are common to +these different avatars; and we can but agree to differ, but still with +gratitude to our entertainers, like two guests at the same dinner, one +of whom takes clear and one white soup. By my way of thinking, neither +of us need be wrong. + +The other papers are all interesting, adequate, clear, and with a +pleasant spice of the romantic. It is a book you may be well pleased to +have so finished, and will do you much good. The Crashaw is capital: +capital; I like the taste of it. Preface clean and dignified. The +handling throughout workmanlike, with some four or five touches of +preciosity, which I regret. + +With my thanks for information, entertainment, and a pleasurable envy +here and there.--Yours affectionately, + + R. L. S. + + + + +TO MISS FERRIER + + + Soon after he was settled again at Hyeres, Stevenson had a great + shock in the death of one of the oldest and most intimate of his + friends of Edinburgh days, Mr. James Walter Ferrier (see the essay + _Old Mortality_ in _Memories and Portraits_). It is in accordance + with the expressed wish of this gentleman's surviving sister that + publicity is given to the following letters:-- + + _La Solitude, Hyeres_ [_Sept. 1883_]. + +MY DEAR MISS FERRIER,--They say Walter is gone. You, who know how I have +neglected him, will conceive my remorse. I had another letter written; +when I heard he was worse, I promised myself to wake up for the last +time. Alas, too late! + +My dear Walter, set apart that terrible disease, was, in his right mind, +the best and gentlest gentleman. God knows he would never intentionally +hurt a soul. + +Well, he is done with his troubles and out of his long sickness, and I +dare say is glad to be at peace and out of the body, which in him seemed +the enemy of the fine and kind spirit. He is the first friend I have +ever lost, and I find it difficult to say anything and fear to intrude +upon your grief. But I had to try to tell you how much I shared it. + +Could you get any one to tell me particulars? Do not write yourself of +course--I do not mean that; but some one else. + + R. L. S. + + + + +TO W. E. HENLEY + + + _La Solitude, Hyeres, September 19, 1883._ + +DEAR BOY,--Our letters vigorously cross: you will ere this have received +a note to Coggie: God knows what was in it. + +It is strange, a little before the first word you sent me--so +late--kindly late, I know and feel--I was thinking in my bed, when I +knew you I had six friends--Bob I had by nature; then came the good +James Walter--with all his failings--the _gentleman_ of the lot, alas to +sink so low, alas to do so little, but now, thank God, in his quiet +rest; next I found Baxter--well do I remember telling Walter I had +unearthed "a W.S. that I thought would do"--it was in the Academy Lane, +and he questioned me as to the Signet's qualifications; fourth came +Simpson; somewhere about the same time, I began to get intimate with +Jenkin; last came Colvin. Then, one black winter afternoon, long Leslie +Stephen, in his velvet jacket, met me in the Spec. by appointment, took +me over to the infirmary, and in the crackling, blighting gas-light +showed me that old head whose excellent representation I see before me +in the photograph. Now when a man has six friends, to introduce a +seventh is usually hopeless. Yet when you were presented, you took to +them and they to you upon the nail. You must have been a fine fellow; +but what a singular fortune I must have had in my six friends that you +should take to all. I don't know if it is good Latin, most probably +not: but this is enscrolled before my eyes for Walter: _Tandem e nubibus +in apricum properat_. Rest, I suppose, I know, was all that remained; +but O to look back, to remember all the mirth, all the kindness, all the +humorous limitations and loved defects of that character; to think that +he was young with me, sharing that weather-beaten, Fergussonian youth, +looking forward through the clouds to the sunburst; and now clean gone +from my path, silent--well, well. This has been a strange awakening. +Last night, when I was alone in the house, with the window open on the +lovely still night, I could have sworn he was in the room with me; I +could show you the spot; and, what was very curious, I heard his rich +laughter, a thing I had not called to mind for I know not how long. + +I see his coral waistcoat studs that he wore the first time he dined in +my house; I see his attitude, leaning back a little, already with +something of a portly air, and laughing internally. How I admired him! +And now in the West Kirk. + +I am trying to write out this haunting bodily sense of absence; besides, +what else should I write of? + +Yes, looking back, I think of him as one who was good, though sometimes +clouded. He was the only gentle one of all my friends, save perhaps the +other Walter. And he was certainly the only modest man among the lot. He +never gave himself away; he kept back his secret; there was always a +gentle problem behind all. Dear, dear, what a wreck; and yet how +pleasant is the retrospect! God doeth all things well, though by what +strange, solemn, and murderous contrivances! + +It is strange: he was the only man I ever loved who did not habitually +interrupt. The fact draws my own portrait. And it is one of the many +reasons why I count myself honoured by his friendship. A man like you +_had_ to like me; you could not help yourself; but Ferrier was above me, +we were not equals; his true self humoured and smiled paternally upon +my failings, even as I humoured and sorrowed over his. + +Well, first his mother, then himself, they are gone: "in their resting +graves." + +When I come to think of it, I do not know what I said to his sister, and +I fear to try again. Could you send her this? There is too much both +about yourself and me in it; but that, if you do not mind, is but a mark +of sincerity. It would let her know how entirely, in the mind of (I +suppose) his oldest friend, the good, true Ferrier obliterates the +memory of the other, who was only his "lunatic brother." + +Judge of this for me, and do as you please; anyway, I will try to write +to her again; my last was some kind of scrawl that I could not see for +crying. This came upon me, remember, with terrible suddenness; I was +surprised by this death; and it is fifteen or sixteen years since first +I saw the handsome face in the Spec. I made sure, besides, to have died +first. Love to you, your wife, and her sisters.--Ever yours, dear boy, + + R. L. S. + + +I never knew any man so superior to himself as poor James Walter. The +best of him only came as a vision, like Corsica from the Corniche. He +never gave his measure either morally or intellectually. The curse was +on him. Even his friends did not know him but by fits. I have passed +hours with him when he was so wise, good, and sweet, that I never knew +the like of it in any other. And for a beautiful good humour he had no +match. I remember breaking in upon him once with a whole red-hot story +(in my worst manner), pouring words upon him by the hour about some +truck not worth an egg that had befallen me; and suddenly, some half +hour after, finding that the sweet fellow had some concern of his own of +infinitely greater import, that he was patiently and smilingly waiting +to consult me on. It sounds nothing; but the courtesy and the +unselfishness were perfect. It makes me rage to think how few knew him, +and how many had the chance to sneer at their better. + +Well, he was not wasted, that we know; though if anything looked liker +irony than this fitting of a man out with these rich qualities and +faculties to be wrecked and aborted from the very stocks, I do not know +the name of it. Yet we see that he has left an influence; the memory of +his patient courtesy has often checked me in rudeness; has it not you? + +You can form no idea of how handsome Walter was. At twenty he was +splendid to see; then, too, he had the sense of power in him, and great +hopes; he looked forward, ever jesting of course, but he looked to see +himself where he had the right to expect. He believed in himself +profoundly; but _he never disbelieved in others_. To the roughest +Highland student he always had his fine, kind, open dignity of manner; +and a good word behind his back. + +The last time that I saw him before leaving for America--it was a sad +blow to both of us. When he heard I was leaving, and that might be the +last time we might meet--it almost was so--he was terribly upset, and +came round at once. We sat late, in Baxter's empty house, where I was +sleeping. My dear friend Walter Ferrier: O if I had only written to him +more! if only one of us in these last days had been well! But I ever +cherished the honour of his friendship, and now when he is gone, I know +what I have lost still better. We live on, meaning to meet; but when the +hope is gone, the pang comes. + + R. L. S. + + + + +TO EDMUND GOSSE + + + _La Solitude, Hyeres, 26th September 1883._ + +MY DEAR GOSSE,--It appears a bolt from Transatlantica is necessary to +produce four lines from you. It is not flattering; but as I was always a +bad correspondent, 'tis a vice to which I am lenient. I give you to +know, however, that I have already twice (this makes three times) sent +you what I please to call a letter, and received from you in return a +subterfuge--or nothing.... + +My present purpose, however, which must not be postponed, is to ask you +to telegraph to the Americans. + +After a summer of good health of a very radiant order, toothache and the +death of a very old friend, which came upon me like a thunderclap, have +rather shelved my powers. I stare upon the paper, not write. I wish I +could write like your Sculptors; yet I am well aware that I should not +try in that direction. A certain warmth (tepid enough) and a certain +dash of the picturesque are my poor essential qualities; and if I went +fooling after the too classical, I might lose even these. But I envied +you that page. + +I am, of course, deep in schemes; I was so ever. Execution alone +somewhat halts. How much do you make per annum, I wonder? This year, for +the first time, I shall pass L300; I may even get halfway to the next +milestone. This seems but a faint remuneration; and the devil of it is, +that I manage, with sickness, and moves, and education, and the like, to +keep steadily in front of my income. However, I console myself with +this, that if I were anything else under God's Heaven, and had the same +crank health, I should make an even zero. If I had, with my present +knowledge, twelve months of my old health, I would, could, and should do +something neat. As it is, I have to tinker at my things in little +sittings; and the rent, or the butcher, or something, is always calling +me off to rattle up a pot-boiler. And then comes a back-set of my +health, and I have to twiddle my fingers and play patience. + +Well, I do not complain, but I do envy strong health where it is +squandered. Treasure your strength, and may you never learn by +experience the profound _ennui_ and irritation of the shelved artist. +For then, what is life? All that one has done to make one's life +effective then doubles the itch of inefficiency. + +I trust also you may be long without finding out the devil that there is +in a bereavement. After love it is the one great surprise that life +preserves for us. Now I don't think I can be astonished any more.--Yours +affectionately, + + R. L. S. + + + + +TO MISS FERRIER + + + _La Solitude, Hyeres, 30th Sept. 1883._ + +MY DEAR MISS FERRIER,--I am very much obliged to you for your letter and +was interested by all you told me. Yes, I know it is better for him to +be gone, and what you say helps me to realise that it is so--I did not +know how much he had suffered; it is so that we are cured of life. I am +a little afraid to write or think much of Walter just yet; as I have not +quite recovered the news and I have my work and my wife to think of. + +Some day soon when the sharpness passes off (if it does) I must try to +write some more of what he was: he was so little understood. I don't +suppose any one knew him better than I did. But just now it is difficult +to think of him. For you I do mourn indeed, and admire your courage: the +loss is terrible. I have no portrait of him. Is there one? If so please +let me have it: if it has to be copied please let it be. + +Henley seems to have been as good to dear Walter as he is to all. That +introduction was a good turn I did to both. It seems so strange for a +friendship to begin all these years ago with so much mirth and now to +end with this sorrow. Our little lives are moments in the wake of the +eternal silence: but how crowded while they last. His has gone down in +peace. + +I was not certainly the best companion for Walter, but I do believe I +was the best he had. In these early days he was not fortunate in +friends--looking back I see most clearly how much we both wanted a man +of riper wisdom. We had no religion between the pair of us--that was the +flaw. How very different was our last intimacy in Gladstone Terrace. But +youth must learn--looking back over these wasted opportunities, I must +try rather to remember what I did right, than to bewail the much that I +left undone and knew not how to do. I see that even you have allowed +yourself to have regrets. Dear Miss Ferrier, sure you were his angel. We +all had something to be glad of, in so far as we had understood and +loved and perhaps a little helped the gentle spirit; but you may +certainly be proud. He always loved you; and I remember in his worst +days spoke of you with great affection; a thing unusual with him; for he +was walking very wild and blind and had no true idea whether of himself +or life. The lifting afterwards was beautiful and touching. Dear Miss +Ferrier I have given your kind messages to my wife who feels for you and +reciprocates the hope to meet. When it may come off I know not. I feel +almost ashamed to say that I keep better, I feel as if like Mrs. Leslie +"you must hate me for it"--still I can very easily throw back whether by +fatigue or want of care, and I do not like to build plans for my return +to my own land. Is there no chance of your coming hereabouts? Though we +cannot in our small and disorderly house offer a lady a room, one can be +got close by and we can offer possible board and a most lovely little +garden for a lounge. Please remember me kindly to your brother John and +Sir A. and Lady Grant and believe me with hearty sympathy--Yours most +sincerely, + + ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. + + +I was rejoiced to hear he never doubted of my love, but I must cure my +hate of correspondence. This has been a sharp lesson. + + + + +TO W. E. HENLEY + + + It will be remembered that "Whistles" or "Penny Whistles" was his own + name for the verses of the _Child's Garden_. The proposal referred to + at the end of this letter was one which had reached him from Messrs. + Lippincott, the American publishers, for a sailing trip to be taken + among the Greek islands and made the subject of a book. + + _La Solitude, Hyeres [October 1883]._ + +My dear excellent, admired, volcanic angel of a lad, trusty as a dog, +eruptive as Vesuvius, in all things great, in all the soul of loyalty: +greeting. + +That you are better spirits me up good. I have had no colour of a Mag. +of Art. From here, here in Highairs the Palm-trees, I have heard your +conversation. It came here in the form of a Mistral, and I said to +myself, Damme, there is some Henley at the foot of this! + +I shall try to do the Whistle as suggested; but I can usually do +whistles only by giving my whole mind to it: to produce even such +limping verse demanding the whole forces of my untuneful soul. I have +other two anyway: better or worse. I am now deep, deep, ocean deep in +_Otto_: a letter is a curst distraction. About 100 pp. are near fit for +publication; I am either making a spoon or spoiling the horn of a +Caledonian bull, with that airy potentate. God help me, I bury a lot of +labour in that principality; and if I am not greatly a gainer, I am a +great loser and a great fool. However, _sursum corda_; faint heart never +writ romance. + +Your Dumas I think exquisite; it might even have been stronglier said: +the brave old godly pagan, I adore his big footprints on the earth. + +Have you read Meredith's _Love in the Valley_? It got me, I wept; I +remembered that poetry existed. + + "When her mother tends her before the laughing mirror." + +I propose if they (Lippincotts) will let me wait till next Autumn, and +go when it is safest, to accept L450 with L100 down; but it is now too +late to go this year. November and December are the months when it is +safest; and the back of the season is broken. I shall gain much +knowledge by the trip; this I look upon as one of the main inducements. + + R. L. S. + + + + +TO SIDNEY COLVIN + + + The following is in answer to a letter containing remarks on the + proofs of the _Child's Garden_, then going round among some of his + friends, and on the instalments of _Silverado Squatters_ and the + _Black Arrow_, which were appearing in the Century Magazine and Young + Folks respectively. The remarks on Professor Seeley's literary manner + are _apropos_ of the _Expansion of England_, which I had lately sent + him. + + _La Solitude, Hyeres [October 1883]._ + +COLVIN, COLVIN, COLVIN,--Yours received; also interesting copy of _P. +Whistles_. "In the multitude of councillors the Bible declares there is +wisdom," said my great-uncle, "but I have always found in them +distraction." It is extraordinary how tastes vary: these proofs have +been handed about, it appears, and I have had several letters; +and--distraction. AEsop: the Miller and the Ass. + +Notes on details:-- + +1. I love the occasional trochaic line; and so did many excellent +writers before me. + +2. If you don't like _A Good Boy_, I do. + +3. In _Escape at Bedtime_, I found two suggestions. "Shove" for "above" +is a correction of the press; it was so written. "Twinkled" is just the +error; to the child the stars appear to be there; any word that suggests +illusion is a horror. + +4. I don't care; I take a different view of the vocative. + +5. Bewildering and childering are good enough for me. These are rhymes, +jingles; I don't go for eternity and the three unities. + +I will delete some of those condemned, but not all. I don't care for the +name Penny Whistles; I sent a sheaf to Henley when I sent 'em. But I've +forgot the others. I would just as soon call 'em "Rimes for Children" as +anything else. I am not proud nor particular. + +Your remarks on the _Black Arrow_ are to the point. I am pleased you +liked Crookback; he is a fellow whose hellish energy has always fixed my +attention. I wish Shakespeare had written the play after he had learned +some of the rudiments of literature and art rather than before. Some +day, I will re-tickle the Sable Missile, and shoot it, _moyennant +finances_, once more into the air; I can lighten it of much, and devote +some more attention to Dick o' Gloucester. It's great sport to write +tushery. + +By this I reckon you will have heard of my proposed excursiolorum to the +Isles of Greece, the Isles of Greece, and kindred sites. If the +excursiolorum goes on, that is if _moyennant finances_ comes off, I +shall write to beg you to collect introductiolorums for me. + +Distinguo: 1. _Silverado_ was not written in America, but in +Switzerland's icy mountains. 2. What you read is the bleeding and +disembowelled remains of what I wrote. 3. The good stuff is all to +come--so I think. "The Sea Fogs," "The Hunter's Family," "Toils and +Pleasures"--_belles pages_.--Yours ever, + + RAMNUGGER. + + +O!--Seeley is too clever to live, and the book a gem. But why has he +read too much Arnold? Why will he avoid--obviously avoid--fine writing +up to which he has led? This is a winking, curled-and-oiled, +ultra-cultured, Oxford-don sort of an affectation that infuriates my +honest soul. "You see"--they say--"how unbombastic _we_ are; we come +right up to eloquence, and, when it's hanging on the pen, dammy, we +scorn it!" It is literary Deronda-ism. If you don't want the woman, the +image, or the phrase, mortify your vanity and avoid the appearance of +wanting them. + + + + +TO W.E. HENLEY + + + The first paragraph of the following refers to contributions of R. L. + S. to the Magazine of Art under Mr. Henley's editorship:-- + + _La Solitude, Hyeres [Autumn 1883]._ + +DEAR LAD,--Glad you like _Fontainebleau_. I am going to be the means, +under heaven, of aerating or literating your pages. The idea that +because a thing is a picture-book all the writing should be on the wrong +tack is _triste_ but widespread. Thus _Hokusai_ will be really a gossip +on convention, or in great part. And the Skelt will be as like a Charles +Lamb as I can get it. The writer should write, and not illustrate +pictures: else it's bosh.... + +Your remarks about the ugly are my eye. Ugliness is only the prose of +horror. It is when you are not able to write _Macbeth_ that you write +_Therese Raquin_. Fashions are external: the essence of art only varies +in so far as fashion widens the field of its application; art is a mill +whose thirlage, in different ages, widens and contracts; but, in any +case and under any fashion, the great man produces beauty, terror, and +mirth, and the little man produces cleverness (personalities, +psychology) instead of beauty, ugliness instead of terror, and jokes +instead of mirth. As it was in the beginning, is now, and shall be ever, +world without end. Amen! + +And even as you read, you say, "Of course, _quelle rengaine_!" + + R. L. S. + + + + +TO W. H. LOW + + Manhattan mentioned below is the name of a short-lived New York + magazine, the editor of which had asked through Mr. Low for a + contribution from R. L. S. + + _La Solitude, Hyeres, October [1883]._ + +MY DEAR LOW,-- ... Some day or other, in Cassell's Magazine of Art, you +will see a paper which will interest you, and where your name appears. +It is called _Fontainebleau: Village Communities of Artists_, and the +signature of R. L. Stevenson will be found annexed. + +Please tell the editor of Manhattan the following secrets for me: 1_st_, +That I am a beast; 2_nd_, that I owe him a letter; 3_rd_, that I have +lost his, and cannot recall either his name or address; 4_th_, that I am +very deep in engagements, which my absurd health makes it hard for me to +overtake; but 5_th_, that I will bear him in mind; 6_th_ and last, that +I am a brute. + +My address is still the same, and I live in a most sweet corner of the +universe, sea and fine hills before me, and a rich variegated plain; and +at my back a craggy hill, loaded with vast feudal ruins. I am very +quiet; a person passing by my door half startles me; but I enjoy the +most aromatic airs, and at night the most wonderful view into a moonlit +garden. By day this garden fades into nothing, overpowered by its +surroundings and the luminous distance; but at night and when the moon +is out, that garden, the arbour, the flight of stairs that mount the +artificial hillock, the plumed blue gum-trees that hang trembling, +become the very skirts of Paradise. Angels I know frequent it; and it +thrills all night with the flutes of silence. Damn that garden;--and by +day it is gone. + +Continue to testify boldly against realism. Down with Dagon, the fish +god! All art swings down towards imitation, in these days, fatally. But +the man who loves art with wisdom sees the joke; it is the lustful that +tremble and respect her ladyship; but the honest and romantic lovers of +the Muse can see a joke and sit down to laugh with Apollo. + +The prospect of your return to Europe is very agreeable; and I was +pleased by what you said about your parents. One of my oldest friends +died recently, and this has given me new thoughts of death. Up to now I +had rather thought of him as a mere personal enemy of my own; but now +that I see him hunting after my friends, he looks altogether darker. My +own father is not well; and Henley, of whom you must have heard me +speak, is in a questionable state of health. These things are very +solemn, and take some of the colour out of life. It is a great thing, +after all, to be a man of reasonable honour and kindness. Do you +remember once consulting me in Paris whether you had not better +sacrifice honesty to art; and how, after much confabulation, we agreed +that your art would suffer if you did? We decided better than we knew. +In this strange welter where we live, all hangs together by a million +filaments; and to do reasonably well by others, is the first +pre-requisite of art. Art is a virtue; and if I were the man I should +be, my art would rise in the proportion of my life. + +If you were privileged to give some happiness to your parents, I know +your art will gain by it. _By God it will!_--_Sic subscribitur_, + + R. L. S. + + + + +TO R. A. M. STEVENSON + + + _La Solitude, Hyeres [October 1883]._ + +MY DEAR BOB,--Yes, I got both your letters at Lyons, but have been since +then decading in several steps. Toothache; fever; Ferrier's death; lung. +Now it is decided I am to leave to-morrow, penniless, for Nice to see +Dr. Williams. + +I was much struck by your last. I have written a breathless note on +Realism for Henley; a fifth part of the subject hurriedly touched, which +will show you how my thoughts are driving. You are now at last beginning +to think upon the problems of executive, plastic art, for you are now +for the first time attacking them. Hitherto you have spoken and thought +of two things--technique and the _ars artium_, or common background of +all arts. Studio work is the real touch. That is the genial error of the +present French teaching. Realism I regard as a mere question of method. +The "brown foreground," "old mastery," and the like, ranking with +villanelles, as technical sports and pastimes. Real art, whether ideal +or realistic, addresses precisely the same feeling, and seeks the same +qualities--significance or charm. And the same--very same--inspiration +is only methodically differentiated according as the artist is an arrant +realist or an arrant idealist. Each, by his own method, seeks to save +and perpetuate the same significance or charm; the one by suppressing, +the other by forcing, detail. All other idealism is the brown foreground +over again, and hence only art in the sense of a game, like cup and +ball. All other realism is not art at all--but not at all. It is, then, +an insincere and showy handicraft. + +Were you to re-read some Balzac, as I have been doing, it would greatly +help to clear your eyes. He was a man who never found his method. An +inarticulate Shakespeare, smothered under forcible-feeble detail. It is +astounding to the riper mind how bad he is, how feeble, how untrue, how +tedious; and, of course, when he surrendered to his temperament, how +good and powerful. And yet never plain nor clear. He could not consent +to be dull, and thus became so. He would leave nothing undeveloped, and +thus drowned out of sight of land amid the multitude of crying and +incongruous details. There is but one art--to omit! O if I knew how to +omit, I would ask no other knowledge. A man who knew how to omit would +make an _Iliad_ of a daily paper. + +Your definition of seeing is quite right. It is the first part of +omission to be partly blind. Artistic sight is judicious blindness. Sam +Bough must have been a jolly blind old boy. He would turn a corner, look +for one-half or quarter minute, and then say, "This'll do, lad." Down he +sat, there and then, with whole artistic plan, scheme of colour, and the +like, and begin by laying a foundation of powerful and seemingly +incongruous colour on the block. He saw, not the scene, but the +water-colour sketch. Every artist by sixty should so behold nature. +Where does he learn that? In the studio, I swear. He goes to nature for +facts, relations, values--material; as a man, before writing a +historical novel, reads up memoirs. But it is not by reading memoirs +that he has learned the selective criterion. He has learned that in the +practice of his art; and he will never learn it well, but when +disengaged from the ardent struggle of immediate representation, of +realistic and _ex facto_ art. He learns it in the crystallisation of +day-dreams; in changing, not in copying, fact; in the pursuit of the +ideal, not in the study of nature. These temples of art are, as you say, +inaccessible to the realistic climber. It is not by looking at the sea +that you get + + "The multitudinous seas incarnadine," + +nor by looking at Mont Blanc that you find + + "And visited all night by troops of stars." + +A kind of ardour of the blood is the mother of all this; and according +as this ardour is swayed by knowledge and seconded by craft, the art +expression flows clear, and significance and charm, like a moon rising, +are born above the barren juggle of mere symbols. + +The painter must study more from nature than the man of words. By why? +Because literature deals with men's business and passions which, in the +game of life, we are irresistibly obliged to study; but painting with +relations of light, and colour, and significances, and form, which, from +the immemorial habit of the race, we pass over with an unregardful eye. +Hence this crouching upon camp-stools, and these crusts.[6] But neither +one nor other is a part of art, only preliminary studies. + +I want you to help me to get people to understand that realism is a +method, and only methodic in its consequences; when the realist is an +artist, that is, and supposing the idealist with whom you compare him to +be anything but a _farceur_ and a _dilettante_. The two schools of +working do, and should, lead to the choice of different subjects. But +that is a consequence, not a cause. See my chaotic note, which will +appear, I fancy, in November in Henley's sheet. + +Poor Ferrier, it bust me horrid. He was, after you, the oldest of my +friends. + +I am now very tired, and will go to bed having prelected freely. Fanny +will finish. + + R. L. S. + + + + +TO THOMAS STEVENSON + + + Some pages of MS. exist in which the writer at this time attempted to + re-cast and expand a portion of the _Lay Morals_ of 1879. A letter + written some days earlier to his father, and partly quoted in Mr. + Graham Balfour's _Life_ (ed. 1906, p. 209), explains his purpose. + + _La Solitude, Hyeres, 12th October 1883._ + +MY DEAR FATHER,--I have just lunched; the day is exquisite, the air +comes through the open window rich with odour, and I am by no means +spiritually minded. Your letter, however, was very much valued, and has +been read oftener than once. What you say about yourself I was glad to +hear; a little decent resignation is not only becoming a Christian, but +is likely to be excellent for the health of a Stevenson. To fret and +fume is undignified, suicidally foolish, and theologically unpardonable; +we are here not to make, but to tread predestined, pathways; we are the +foam of a wave, and to preserve a proper equanimity is not merely the +first part of submission to God, but the chief of possible kindnesses to +those about us. I am lecturing myself, but you also. To do our best is +one part, but to wash our hands smilingly of the consequence is the next +part, of any sensible virtue. + +I have come, for the moment, to a pause in my moral works; for I have +many irons in the fire, and I wish to finish something to bring coin +before I can afford to go on with what I think doubtfully to be a duty. +It is a most difficult work; a touch of the parson will drive off those +I hope to influence; a touch of overstrained laxity, besides disgusting, +like a grimace, may do harm. Nothing that I have ever seen yet speaks +directly and efficaciously to young men; and I do hope I may find the +art and wisdom to fill up a gap. The great point, as I see it, is to ask +as little as possible, and meet, if it may be, every view or absence of +view; and it should be, must be, easy. Honesty is the one desideratum; +but think how hard a one to meet. I think all the time of Ferrier and +myself; these are the pair that I address. Poor Ferrier, so much a +better man than I, and such a temporal wreck. But the thing of which we +must divest our minds is to look partially upon others; all is to be +viewed; and the creature judged, as he must be by his Creator, not +dissected through a prism of morals, but in the unrefracted ray. So +seen, and in relation to the almost omnipotent surroundings, who is to +distinguish between F. and such a man as Dr. Candlish, or between such a +man as David Hume and such an one as Robert Burns? To compare my poor +and good Walter with myself is to make me startle; he, upon all grounds +above the merely expedient, was the nobler being. Yet wrecked utterly +ere the full age of manhood; and the last skirmishes so well fought, so +humanly useless, so pathetically brave, only the leaps of an expiring +lamp. All this is a very pointed instance. It shuts the mouth. I have +learned more, in some ways, from him than from any other soul I ever +met; and he, strange to think, was the best gentleman, in all kinder +senses, that I ever knew.--Ever your affectionate son, + + ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. + + + + +TO W. H. LOW + + + The paper referred to at the beginning of the second paragraph is one + on R. L. S. in the Century Magazine, the first seriously critical + notice, says Mr. Low, which appeared of him in the States. + + [_La Solitude, Hyeres, Oct. 23, 1883._] + +MY DEAR LOW,--_C'est d'un bon camarade_; and I am much obliged to you +for your two letters and the inclosure. Times are a lityle changed with +all of us since the ever memorable days of Lavenue: hallowed be his +name! hallowed his old Fleury!--of which you did not see--I think--as I +did--the glorious apotheosis: advanced on a Tuesday to three francs, on +the Thursday to six, and on Friday swept off, holus bolus, for the +proprietor's private consumption. Well, we had the start of that +proprietor. Many a good bottle came our way, and was, I think, worthily +made welcome. + +I am pleased that Mr. Gilder should like my literature; and I ask you +particularly to thank Mr. Bunner (have I the name right?) for his +notice, which was of that friendly, headlong sort that really pleases an +author like what the French call a "shake-hands." It pleased me the more +coming from the States, where I have met not much recognition, save from +the buccaneers, and above all from pirates who misspell my name. I saw +my book advertised in a number of the Critic as the work of one R. L. +Stephenson; and, I own, I boiled. It is so easy to know the name of the +man whose book you have stolen; for there it is, at full length, on the +title-page of your booty. But no, damn him, not he! He calls me +Stephenson. These woes I only refer to by the way, as they set a higher +value on the Century notice. + +I am now a person with an established ill-health--a wife--a dog +possessed with an evil, a Gadarene spirit--a chalet on a hill, looking +out over the Mediterranean--a certain reputation--and very obscure +finances. Otherwise, very much the same, I guess; and were a bottle of +Fleury a thing to be obtained, capable of developing theories along with +a fit spirit even as of yore. Yet I now draw near to the Middle Ages; +nearly three years ago, that fatal Thirty struck; and yet the great work +is not yet done--not yet even conceived. But so, as one goes on, the +wood seems to thicken, the footpath to narrow, and the House Beautiful +on the hill's summit to draw further and further away. We learn, indeed, +to use our means; but only to learn, along with it, the paralysing +knowledge that these means are only applicable to two or three poor +commonplace motives. Eight years ago, if I could have slung ink as I can +now, I should have thought myself well on the road after Shakespeare; +and now--I find I have only got a pair of walking-shoes and not yet +begun to travel. And art is still away there on the mountain summit. But +I need not continue; for, of course, this is your story just as much as +it is mine; and, strange to think, it was Shakespeare's too, and +Beethoven's, and Phidias's. It is a blessed thing that, in this forest +of art, we can pursue our woodlice and sparrows, _and not catch them_, +with almost the same fervour of exhilaration as that with which +Sophocles hunted and brought down the Mastodon. + +Tell me something of your work, and your wife.--My dear fellow, I am +yours ever, + + R. L. STEVENSON. + + +My wife begs to be remembered to both of you; I cannot say as much for +my dog, who has never seen you, but he would like, on general +principles, to bite you. + + + + +TO W. E. HENLEY + + + By this time _Treasure Island_ was out in book form, and the + following is in reply to some reflections on its seamanship which had + been conveyed to him through Mr. Henley:-- + + [_La Solitude, Hyeres, November 1883._] + +MY DEAR LAD,-- ... Of course, my seamanship is jimmy: did I not beseech +you I know not how often to find me an ancient mariner--and you, whose +own wife's own brother is one of the ancientest, did nothing for me? As +for my seamen, did Runciman ever know eighteenth century Buccaneers? No? +Well, no more did I. But I have known and sailed with seamen too, and +lived and eaten with them; and I made my put-up shot in no great +ignorance, but as a put-up thing has to be made, _i.e._ to be coherent +and picturesque, and damn the expense. Are they fairly lively on the +wires? Then, favour me with your tongues. Are they wooden, and dim, and +no sport? Then it is I that am silent, otherwise not. The work, strange +as it may sound in the ear, is not a work of realism. The next thing I +shall hear is that the etiquette is wrong in Otto's Court! With a +warrant, and I mean it to be so, and the whole matter never cost me half +a thought. I make these paper people to please myself, and Skelt, and +God Almighty, and with no ulterior purpose. Yet am I mortal myself; for, +as I remind you, I begged for a supervising mariner. However, my heart +is in the right place. I have been to sea, but I never crossed the +threshold of a court; and the courts shall be the way I want 'em. + +I'm glad to think I owe you the review that pleased me best of all the +reviews I ever had; the one I liked best before that was ----'s on the +_Arabians_. These two are the flowers of the collection, according to +me. To live reading such reviews and die eating ortolans--sich is my +aspiration. + +Whenever you come you will be equally welcome. I am trying to finish +_Otto_ ere you shall arrive, so as to take and be able to enjoy a +well-earned--O yes, a well-earned--holiday. Longman fetched by _Otto_: +is it a spoon or a spoilt horn? Momentous, if the latter; if the former, +a spoon to dip much praise and pudding, and to give, I do think, much +pleasure. The last part, now in hand, much smiles upon me.--Ever yours, + + R. L. S. + + + + +TO MRS. THOMAS STEVENSON + + + _La Solitude, Hyeres [November 1883]._ + +MY DEAR MOTHER,--You must not blame me too much for my silence; I am +over head and ears in work, and do not know what to do first. I have +been hard at _Otto_, hard at _Silverado_ proofs, which I have worked +over again to a tremendous extent; cutting, adding, rewriting, until +some of the worst chapters of the original are now, to my mind, as good +as any. I was the more bound to make it good, as I had such liberal +terms; it's not for want of trying if I have failed. + +I got your letter on my birthday; indeed, that was how I found it out +about three in the afternoon, when postie comes. Thank you for all you +said. As for my wife, that was the best investment ever made by man; but +"in our branch of the family" we seem to marry well. I, considering my +piles of work, am wonderfully well; I have not been so busy for I know +not how long. I hope you will send me the money I asked however, as I am +not only penniless, but shall remain so in all human probability for +some considerable time. I have got in the mass of my expectations; and +the L100 which is to float us on the new year cannot come due till +_Silverado_ is all ready; I am delaying it myself for the moment; then +will follow the binders and the travellers and an infinity of other +nuisances; and only at the last, the jingling-tingling. + +Do you know that _Treasure Island_ has appeared? In the November number +of Henley's Magazine, a capital number anyway, there is a funny +publisher's puff of it for your book; also a bad article by me. Lang +dotes on _Treasure Island_: "Except _Tom Sawyer_ and the _Odyssey_," he +writes, "I never liked any romance so much." I will inclose the letter +though. The Bogue is angelic, although very dirty. It has rained--at +last! It was jolly cold when the rain came. + +I was overjoyed to hear such good news of my father. Let him go on at +that!--Ever your affectionate, + + R. L. S. + + + + +TO SIDNEY COLVIN + + + Of the "small ships" here mentioned, _Fontainebleau_ and _The + Character of Dogs_ are well known: _A Misadventure in France_ is + probably a draft of the _Epilogue to an Inland Voyage_, not + published till five years later. The _Travelling Companion_ (of which + I remember little except that its scene was partly laid in North + Italy and that a publisher to whom it was shown declared it a work of + genius but indecent) was abandoned some two years later, as set forth + on p. 193 of this volume. + + _La Solitude, Hyeres [November 1883]._ + + L10,000 Pounds Reward! + +WHEREAS Sidney Colvin, more generally known as the Guardian Angel, has +vanished from the gaze of Mr. R. L. Stevenson, the above reward is +offered as a means to discover the whereabouts of the misguided +gentleman. He was known as a man of irregular habits, and his rowdy +exterior would readily attract attention in a crowd. He was never known +to resist a drink; whisky was his favourite dish. If any one will bring +him to Mr. Stevenson's back area door, dead or alive, the greatest +rejoicing will be felt by a bereaved and uneasy family. + +Also, wherefore not a word, dear Colvin? My news is: splendid health; +great success of the _Black Arrow_; another tale demanded, readers this +time (the Lord lighten them!) pleased; a great variety of small ships +launched or still upon the stocks--(also, why not send the annotated +proof of _Fontainebleau_? ce n'est pas d'un bon camarade); a paper on +dogs for Carr;[7] a paper called _Old Mortality_, a paper called _A +Misadventure in France_, a tale entituled _The Travelling Companion_; +_Otto_ arrested one foot in air; and last and not least, a great demand +for news of Sidney Colvin and others. Herewith I pause, for why should I +cast pearls before swine? + +A word, Guardian Angel. You are much loved in this house, not by me +only, but by the wife. The Wogg himself is anxious.--Ever yours +affectionately, + + R. L. S. + + + + +TO SIDNEY COLVIN + + + _La Solitude, Hyeres [November 1883]._ + +MY DEAR COLVIN,--I have been bad, but as you were worse, I feel no +shame. I raise a blooming countenance, not the evidence of a +self-righteous spirit. + +I continue my uphill fight with the twin spirits of bankruptcy and +indigestion. Duns rage about my portal, at least to fancy's ear. + +I suppose you heard of Ferrier's death: my oldest friend, except Bob. It +has much upset me. I did not fancy how much. I am strangely concerned +about it. + +My house is the loveliest spot in the universe; the moonlight nights we +have are incredible; love, poetry and music, and the Arabian Nights, +inhabit just my corner of the world--nest there like mavises. + + Here lies + The carcase + of + Robert Louis Stevenson, + An active, austere, and not inelegant + writer, + who, + at the termination of a long career, + wealthy, wise, benevolent, and honoured by + the attention of two hemispheres, + yet owned it to have been his crowning favour + TO INHABIT + LA SOLITUDE. + +(with the consent of the intelligent edility of Hyeres, he has been +interred, below this frugal stone, in the garden which he honoured for +so long with his poetic presence.) + +I must write more solemn letters. Adieu. Write. + + R. L. S. + + + + +TO MRS. MILNE + + + This is to a cousin who had been one of his favourite playmates in + childhood, and had recognised some allusions in the proof slips of + the _Child's Garden_ (the piece called _A Pirate Story_). + + _La Solitude, Hyeres [November 1883]._ + +MY DEAR HENRIETTA,--Certainly; who else would they be? More by token, on +that particular occasion, you were sailing under the title of Princess +Royal; I, after a furious contest, under that of Prince Alfred; and +Willie, still a little sulky, as the Prince of Wales. We were all in a +buck basket about half-way between the swing and the gate; and I can +still see the Pirate Squadron heave in sight upon the weather bow. + +I wrote a piece besides on Giant Bunker; but I was not happily inspired, +and it is condemned. Perhaps I'll try again; he was a horrid fellow, +Giant Bunker! and some of my happiest hours were passed in pursuit of +him. You were a capital fellow to play: how few there were who could! +None better than yourself. I shall never forget some of the days at +Bridge of Allan; they were one golden dream. See "A Good Boy" in the +_Penny Whistles_, much of the sentiment of which is taken direct from +one evening at B. of A. when we had had a great play with the little +Glasgow girl. Hallowed be that fat book of fairy tales! Do you remember +acting the Fair One with Golden Locks? What a romantic drama! Generally +speaking, whenever I think of play, it is pretty certain that you will +come into my head. I wrote a paper called _Child's Play_ once, where, I +believe, you or Willie would recognise things.... + +Surely Willie is just the man to marry; and if his wife wasn't a happy +woman, I think I could tell her who was to blame. Is there no word of +it? Well, these things are beyond arrangement; and the wind bloweth +where it listeth--which, I observe, is generally towards the west in +Scotland. Here it prefers a south-easterly course, and is called the +Mistral--usually with an adjective in front. But if you will remember my +yesterday's toothache and this morning's crick, you will be in a +position to choose an adjective for yourself. Not that the wind is +unhealthy; only when it comes strong, it is both very high and very +cold, which makes it the d-v-l. But as I am writing to a lady, I had +better avoid this topic; winds requiring a great scope of language. + +Please remember me to all at home; give Ramsay a pennyworth of +acidulated drops for his good taste.--And believe me, your affectionate +cousin, + + ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. + + + + +TO MISS FERRIER + + + _La Solitude, Hyeres [November 22, 1883]._ + +DEAR MISS FERRIER,--Many thanks for the photograph. It is---well, it is +like most photographs. The sun is an artist of too much renown; and, at +any rate, we who knew Walter "in the brave days of old" will be +difficult to please. + +I was inexpressibly touched to get a letter from some lawyers as to some +money. I have never had any account with my friends; some have gained +and some lost; and I should feel there was something dishonest in a +partial liquidation even if I could recollect the facts, _which I +cannot_. But the fact of his having put aside this memorandum touched me +greatly. + +The mystery of his life is great. Our chemist in this place, who had +been at Malvern, recognised the picture. You may remember Walter had a +romantic affection for all pharmacies? and the bottles in the window +were for him a poem? He said once that he knew no pleasure like driving +through a lamplit city, waiting for the chemists to go by. + +All these things return now. + +He had a pretty full translation of Schiller's _AEsthetic Letters_, which +we read together, as well as the second part of _Faust_, in Gladstone +Terrace, he helping me with the German. There is no keepsake I should +more value than the MS. of that translation. They were the best days I +ever had with him, little dreaming all would so soon be over. It needs a +blow like this to convict a man of mortality and its burthen. I always +thought I should go by myself; not to survive. But now I feel as if the +earth were undermined, and all my friends have lost one thickness of +reality since that one passed. Those are happy who can take it +otherwise; with that I found things all beginning to dislimn. Here we +have no abiding city, and one felt as though he had--and O too much +acted. + +But if you tell me, he did not feel my silence. However, he must have +done so; and my guilt is irreparable now. I thank God at least heartily +that he did not resent it. + +Please remember me to Sir Alexander and Lady Grant, to whose care I will +address this. When next I am in Edinburgh I will take flowers, alas! to +the West Kirk. Many a long hour we passed in graveyards, the man who has +gone and I--or rather not that man--but the beautiful, genial, witty +youth who so betrayed him.--Dear Miss Ferrier, I am yours most +sincerely, + + ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. + + + + +TO W. E. HENLEY + + + This refers to some dispute which had arisen with an editor (I forget + whom) concerning the refusal of an article on Salvini. The nickname + "Fastidious Brisk," from Ben Jonson's _Every Man out of his Humour_, + was applied by Mr. Henley to Stevenson--very inappropriately as I + always thought. + + _La Solitude, Hyeres, Autumn_ 1883. + +MY DEAR LAD,--You know your own business best; but I wish your honesty +were not so warfaring. These conflicts pain Lucretian sitters on the +shore; and one wonders--one wonders--wonders and whimpers. I do not say +my attitude is noble; but is yours conciliatory? I revere Salvini, but I +shall never see him--nor anybody--play again. That is all a matter of +history, heroic history, to me. Were I in London, I should be the liker +Tantalus--no more. But as for these quarrels: in not many years shall we +not all be clay-cold and safe below ground, you with your loud-mouthed +integrity, I with my fastidious briskness--and--with all their faults +and merits, swallowed in silence. It seems to me, in ignorance of cause, +that when the dustman has gone by, these quarrellings will prick the +conscience. Am I wrong? I am a great sinner; so, my brave friend, are +you; the others also. Let us a little imitate the divine patience and +the divine sense of humour, and smilingly tolerate those faults and +virtues that have so brief a period and so intertwined a being. + +I fear I was born a parson; but I live very near upon the margin +(though, by your leave, I may outlive you all!), and too much rigour in +these daily things sounds to me like clatter on the kitchen dishes. If +it might be--could it not be smoothed? This very day my father writes me +he has gone to see, upon his deathbed, an old friend to whom for years +he has not spoken or written. On his deathbed; no picking up of the lost +stitches; merely to say: my little fury, my spotted uprightness, after +having split our lives, have not a word of quarrel to say more. And the +same post brings me the news of another--War! Things in this troubled +medium are not so clear, dear Henley; there are faults upon all hands; +and the end comes, and Ferrier's grave gapes for us all. + + THE PROSY PREACHER + + (But written in deep dejection, my dear man). + +Suppose they _are_ wrong? Well, am I not tolerated, are you not +tolerated?--we and _our_ faults? + + + + +TO W. H. LOW + + + _La Solitude, Hyeres, Var, 13th December 1883._ + +MY DEAR LOW,-- ... I was much pleased with what you said about my work. +Ill-health is a great handicapper in the race. I have never at command +that press of spirits that are necessary to strike out a thing red-hot. +_Silverado_ is an example of stuff worried and pawed about, God knows +how often, in poor health, and you can see for yourself the result: good +pages, an imperfect fusion, a certain languor of the whole. Not, in +short, art. I have told Roberts to send you a copy of the book when it +appears, where there are some fair passages that will be new to you. My +brief romance, _Prince Otto_--far my most difficult adventure up to +now--is near an end. I have still one chapter to write _de fond en +comble_, and three or four to strengthen or recast. The rest is done. I +do not know if I have made a spoon, or only spoiled a horn; but I am +tempted to hope the first. If the present bargain hold, it will not see +the light of day for some thirteen months. Then I shall be glad to know +how it strikes you. There is a good deal of stuff in it, both dramatic +and, I think, poetic; and the story is not like these purposeless fables +of to-day, but is, at least, intended to stand firm upon a base of +philosophy--or morals--as you please. It has been long gestated, and is +wrought with care. _Enfin, nous verrons._ My labours have this year for +the first time been rewarded with upwards of L350; that of itself, so +base we are! encourages me; and the better tenor of my health yet +more.--Remember me to Mrs. Low, and believe me, yours most sincerely, + + ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. + + + + +TO THOMAS STEVENSON + + + _La Solitude, December 20, 1883._ + +MY DEAR FATHER,--I do not know which of us is to blame; I suspect it is +you this time. The last accounts of you were pretty good, I was pleased +to see; I am, on the whole, very well--suffering a little still from my +fever and liver complications, but better. + +I have just finished re-reading a book, which I counsel you above all +things _not_ to read, as it has made me very ill, and would make you +worse--Lockhart's _Scott_. It is worth reading, as all things are from +time to time that keep us nose to nose with fact; though I think such +reading may be abused, and that a great deal of life is better spent in +reading of a light and yet chivalrous strain. Thus, no Waverley novel +approaches in power, blackness, bitterness, and moral elevation to the +diary and Lockhart's narrative of the end; and yet the Waverley novels +are better reading for every day than the Life. You may take a tonic +daily, but not phlebotomy. + +The great double danger of taking life too easily, and taking it too +hard, how difficult it is to balance that! But we are all too little +inclined to faith; we are all, in our serious moments, too much inclined +to forget that all are sinners, and fall justly by their faults, and +therefore that we have no more to do with that than with the +thundercloud; only to trust, and do our best, and wear as smiling a face +as may be for others and ourselves. But there is no royal road among +this complicated business. Hegel the German got the best word of all +philosophy with his antinomies: the contrary of everything is its +postulate. That is, of course, grossly expressed, but gives a hint of +the idea, which contains a great deal of the mysteries of religion, and +a vast amount of the practical wisdom of life. For your part, there is +no doubt as to your duty--to take things easy and be as happy as you +can, for your sake, and my mother's, and that of many besides. Excuse +this sermon.--Ever your loving son, + + R. L. S. + + + + +TO MR. AND MRS. THOMAS STEVENSON + + + _La Solitude, December 25, 1883._ + +MY DEAR FATHER AND MOTHER,--This it is supposed will reach you about +Christmas, and I believe I should include Lloyd in the greeting. But I +want to lecture my father; he is not grateful enough; he is like Fanny; +his resignation is not the "true blue." A man who has gained a stone; +whose son is better, and, after so many fears to the contrary, I dare to +say, a credit to him; whose business is arranged; whose marriage is a +picture--what I should call resignation in such a case as his would be +to "take down his fiddle and play as lood as ever he could." That and +nought else. And now, you dear old pious ingrate, on this Christmas +morning, think what your mercies have been; and do not walk too far +before your breakfast--as far as to the top of India Street, then to the +top of Dundas Street, and then to your ain stair heid; and do not forget +that even as _laborare_, so _joculari_, _est orare_; and to be happy the +first step to being pious. + +I have as good as finished my novel, and a hard job it has been--but now +practically over, _laus deo_! My financial prospects better than ever +before; my excellent wife a touch dolorous, like Mr. Tommy; my Bogue +quite converted, and myself in good spirits. O, send Curry Powder per +Baxter. + + R. L. S. + + + + +TO MRS. THOMAS STEVENSON + + + _[La Solitude, Hyeres] last Sunday of '83._ + +MY DEAR MOTHER,--I give my father up. I give him a parable: that the +Waverley novels are better reading for every day than the tragic Life. +And he takes it backside foremost, and shakes his head, and is gloomier +than ever. Tell him that I give him up. I don't want no such a parent. +This is not the man for my money. I do not call that by the name of +religion which fills a man with bile. I write him a whole letter, +bidding him beware of extremes, and telling him that his gloom is +gallows-worthy; and I get back an answer--Perish the thought of it. + +Here am I on the threshold of another year, when, according to all human +foresight, I should long ago have been resolved into my elements; here +am I, who you were persuaded was born to disgrace you--and, I will do +you the justice to add, on no such insufficient grounds--no very burning +discredit when all is done; here am I married, and the marriage +recognised to be a blessing of the first order, A1 at Lloyd's. There is +he, at his not first youth, able to take more exercise than I at +thirty-three, and gaining a stone's weight, a thing of which I am +incapable. There are you; has the man no gratitude? There is +Smeoroch[8]: is he blind? Tell him from me that all this is + + NOT THE TRUE BLUE! + +I will think more of his prayers when I see in him a spirit of _praise_. +Piety is a more childlike and happy attitude than he admits. Martha, +Martha, do you hear the knocking at the door? But Mary was happy. Even +the Shorter Catechism, not the merriest epitome of religion, and a work +exactly as pious although not quite so true as the multiplication +table--even that dry-as-dust epitome begins with a heroic note. What is +man's chief end? Let him study that; and ask himself if to refuse to +enjoy God's kindest gifts is in the spirit indicated. Up, Dullard! It is +better service to enjoy a novel than to mump. + +I have been most unjust to the Shorter Catechism, I perceive. I wish to +say that I keenly admire its merits as a performance; and that all that +was in my mind was its peculiarly unreligious and unmoral texture; from +which defect it can never, of course, exercise the least influence on +the minds of children. But they learn fine style and some austere +thinking unconsciously.--Ever your loving son, + + R. L. S. + + + + +TO MR. AND MRS. THOMAS STEVENSON + + + _La Solitude, Hyeres-les-Palmiers, Var, January 1 (1884)._ + +MY DEAR PEOPLE,--A Good New Year to you. The year closes, leaving me +with L50 in the bank, owing no man nothing, L100 more due to me in a +week or so, and L150 more in the course of the month; and I can look +back on a total receipt of L465, 0s. 6d. for the last twelve months! + +And yet I am not happy! + +Yet I beg! Here is my beggary:-- + + 1. Sellar's Trial. + 2. George Borrow's Book about Wales. + 3. My Grandfather's Trip to Holland. + 4. And (but this is, I fear, impossible) the Bell Rock Book. + +When I think of how last year began, after four months of sickness and +idleness, all my plans gone to water, myself starting alone, a kind of +spectre, for Nice--should I not be grateful? Come, let us sing unto the +Lord! + +Nor should I forget the expected visit, but I will not believe in that +till it befall; I am no cultivator of disappointments, 'tis a herb that +does not grow in my garden; but I get some good crops both of remorse +and gratitude. The last I can recommend to all gardeners; it grows best +in shiny weather, but once well grown, is very hardy; it does not +require much labour; only that the husbandman should smoke his pipe +about the flower-plots and admire God's pleasant wonders. Winter green +(otherwise known as Resignation, or the "false gratitude plant") springs +in much the same soil; is little hardier, if at all; and requires to be +so dug about and dunged, that there is little margin left for profit. +The variety known as the Black Winter green (H. V. Stevensoniana) is +rather for ornament than profit. + +"John, do you see that bed of resignation?"--"It's doin' bravely, +sir."--"John, I will not have it in my garden; it flatters not the eye +and comforts not the stomach; root it out."--"Sir, I ha'e seen o' them +that rase as high as nettles; gran' plants!"--"What then? Were they as +tall as alps, if still unsavoury and bleak, what matters it? Out with +it, then; and in its place put Laughter and a Good Conceit (that capital +home evergreen), and a bush of Flowering Piety--but see it be the +flowering sort--the other species is no ornament to any gentleman's Back +Garden." + + JNO. BUNYAN. + + + + +TO W. E. HENLEY + + + Early in January, Stevenson, after a week's visit at Hyeres from his + friends Charles Baxter and W. E. Henley, accompanied them as far as + Nice, and there suddenly went down with an attack of acute + congestion, first of the lungs and then of the kidneys. At one moment + there seemed no hope, but he recovered slowly and returned to Hyeres. + His friends had not written during his illness, fearing him to be too + far gone to care for letters. As he got better he began to chafe at + their silence. + + _[Hyeres, February or March 1884]._ + + + TANDEM DESINO* + +I cannot read, work, sleep, lie still, walk, or even play patience. +These plagues will overtake all damned silencists; among whom, from this +day out, number + + Eructavit cor Timonis.** + + the fiery indignator + Roland Little Stevenson. + + I counted miseries by the heap, + But now have had my fill, + I cannot see, I do not sleep, + _But shortly I shall kill_. + + Of many letters, here is a + Full End. + + The last will and testament of + a demitting correspondent. + + My indefatigable pen + I here lay down forever. Men + Have used, and left me, and forgot; + Men are entirely off the spot; + Men are a _blague_ and an abuse; + And I commit them to the deuce! + + RODERICK LAMOND STEVENSON. + + I had companions, I had friends, + I had of whisky various blends. + The whisky was all drunk; and lo! + The friends were gone for evermo! + + * * * * * + + The loquacious man at peace.* + + And when I marked the ingratitude, + I to my maker turned, and spewed. + + RANDOLPH LOVEL STEVENSON. + + + A pen broken, a subverted ink-pot. + + Here endeth the Familiar Correspondence of R. L. S.** + + Explicuerunt Epistolae Stevensonianae Omnes.** + + All men are rot; but there are two-- + Sidney, the oblivious Slade, and you-- + Who from that rabble stand confest + Ten million times the rottenest. + + R. L. S. + + + When I was sick and safe in gaol + I thought my friends would never fail. + One wrote me nothing; t'other bard + Sent me an insolent post-card. + + R. L. S. + + + Terminus: Silentia.** + + FINIS Finaliter finium** + +IF NOBODY WRITES TO ME I SHALL DIE + +I now write no more. + + RICHARD LEFANU STEVENSON, + Duke of Indignation + + Mark Tacebo, Isaac Blood } + Secretary John Blind } + Vain-hope Go-to-bed } witnesses + Israel Sciatica } + + ----- + The finger on the mouth. + ----- + +* Originally reversed print. +** Originally sideways print. + + + + +TO SIDNEY COLVIN + + + The allusions in the second paragraph are to the commanders in the + Nile campaigns of those years. + + _La Solitude, Hyeres, 9th March 1884._ + +MY DEAR S. C.,--You will already have received a not very sane note from +me; so your patience was rewarded--may I say, your patient silence? +However, now comes a letter, which on receipt, I thus acknowledge. + +I have already expressed myself as to the political aspect. About +Grahame, I feel happier; it does seem to have been really a good, neat, +honest piece of work. We do not seem to be so badly off for commanders: +Wolseley and Roberts, and this pile of Woods, Stewarts, Alisons, +Grahames, and the like. Had we but ONE statesman on any side of the +house! + +Two chapters of _Otto_ do remain: one to rewrite, one to create; and I +am not yet able to tackle them. For me it is my chief o' works; hence +probably not so for others, since it only means that I have here +attacked the greatest difficulties. But some chapters towards the end: +three in particular--I do think come off. I find them stirring, +dramatic, and not unpoetical. We shall see, however; as like as not, +the effort will be more obvious than the success. For, of course, I +strung myself hard to carry it out. The next will come easier, and +possibly be more popular. I believe in the covering of much paper, each +time with a definite and not too difficult artistic purpose; and then, +from time to time, drawing oneself up and trying, in a superior effort, +to combine the facilities thus acquired or improved. Thus one +progresses. But, mind, it is very likely that the big effort, instead of +being the masterpiece, may be the blotted copy, the gymnastic exercise. +This no man can tell; only the brutal and licentious public, snouting in +Mudie's wash-trough, can return a dubious answer. + +I am to-day, thanks to a pure heaven and a beneficent, loud-talking, +antiseptic mistral, on the high places as to health and spirits. Money +holds out wonderfully. Fanny has gone for a drive to certain meadows +which are now one sheet of jonquils: sea-bound meadows, the thought of +which may freshen you in Bloomsbury. "Ye have been fresh and fair, Ye +have been filled with flowers"--I fear I misquote. Why do people babble? +Surely Herrick, in his true vein, is superior to Martial himself, though +Martial is a very pretty poet. + +Did you ever read St. Augustine? The first chapters of the _Confessions_ +are marked by a commanding genius: Shakespearian in depth. I was struck +dumb, but, alas! when you begin to wander into controversy, the poet +drops out. His description of infancy is most seizing. And how is this: +"Sed majorum nugae negotia vocantur; puerorum autem talia cum sint +puniuntur a majoribus." Which is quite after the heart of R. L. S. See +also his splendid passage about the "luminosus limes amicitiae" and the +"nebulae de limosa concupiscentia carnis"; going on "_Utrumque_ in +confuso aestuabat et rapiebat imbecillam aetatem per abrupta +cupiditatum." That "Utrumque" is a real contribution to life's science. +Lust _alone_ is but a pigmy; but it never, or rarely, attacks us +single-handed. + +Do you ever read (to go miles off, indeed) the incredible Barbey +d'Aurevilly? A psychological Poe--to be for a moment Henley. I own with +pleasure I prefer him with all his folly, rot, sentiment, and mixed +metaphors, to the whole modern school in France. It makes me laugh when +it's nonsense; and when he gets an effect (though it's still nonsense +and mere Poery, not poesy) it wakens me. _Ce qui ne meurt pas_ nearly +killed me with laughing, and left me--well, it left me very nearly +admiring the old ass. At least, it's the kind of thing one feels one +couldn't do. The dreadful moonlight, when they all three sit silent in +the room--by George, sir, it's imagined--and the brief scene between the +husband and wife is all there. _Quant au fond_, the whole thing, of +course, is a fever dream, and worthy of eternal laughter. Had the young +man broken stones, and the two women been hard-working honest +prostitutes, there had been an end of the whole immoral and baseless +business: you could at least have respected them in that case. + +I also read _Petronius Arbiter_, which is a rum work, not so immoral as +most modern works, but singularly silly. I tackled some Tacitus too. I +got them with a dreadful French crib on the same page with the text, +which helps me along and drives me mad. The French do not even try to +translate. They try to be much more classical than the classics, with +astounding results of barrenness and tedium. Tacitus, I fear, was too +solid for me. I liked the war part; but the dreary intriguing at Rome +was too much. + + R. L. S. + + + + +TO MR. DICK + + + This correspondent was for many years head clerk and confidential + assistant in the family firm at Edinburgh. + + _La Solitude, Hyeres, 12th March 1884._ + +MY DEAR MR. DICK,--I have been a great while owing you a letter; but I +am not without excuses, as you have heard. I overworked to get a piece +of work finished before I had my holiday, thinking to enjoy it more; and +instead of that, the machinery near hand came sundry in my hands! like +Murdie's uniform. However, I am now, I think, in a fair way of recovery; +I think I was made, what there is of me, of whipcord and thorn-switches; +surely I am tough! But I fancy I shall not overdrive again, or not so +long. It is my theory that work is highly beneficial, but that it +should, if possible, and certainly for such partially broken-down +instruments as the thing I call my body, be taken in batches, with a +clear break and breathing space between. I always do vary my work, +laying one thing aside to take up another, not merely because I believe +it rests the brain, but because I have found it most beneficial to the +result. Reading, Bacon says, makes a full man, but what makes me full on +any subject is to banish it for a time from all my thoughts. However, +what I now propose is, out of every quarter to work two months, and rest +the third. I believe I shall get more done, as I generally manage, on my +present scheme, to have four months' impotent illness and two of +imperfect health--one before, one after, I break down. This, at least, +is not an economical division of the year. + +I re-read the other day that heartbreaking book, the _Life of Scott_. +One should read such works now and then, but O, not often. As I live, I +feel more and more that literature should be cheerful and +brave-spirited, even if it cannot be made beautiful and pious and +heroic. We wish it to be a green place; the Waverley Novels are better +to re-read than the over-true _Life_, fine as dear Sir Walter was. The +Bible, in most parts, is a cheerful book; it is our little piping +theologies, tracts, and sermons that are dull and dowie; and even the +Shorter Catechism, which is scarcely a work of consolation, opens with +the best and shortest and completest sermon ever written--upon Man's +chief end.--Believe me, my dear Mr. Dick, very sincerely yours, + + ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. + + +_P.S._--You see I have changed my hand. I was threatened apparently with +scrivener's cramp, and at any rate had got to write so small, that the +revisal of my MS. tried my eyes, hence my signature alone remains upon +the old model; for it appears that if I changed that, I should be cut +off from my "vivers." + + R. L. S. + + + + +TO COSMO MONKHOUSE + + + This amiable and excellent public servant, art-critic, and versifier + was a friend of old Savile Club days; the drift of his letter can + easily be guessed from this reply. The reference to Lamb is to the + essay on the Restoration dramatists. + + _La Solitude, Hyeres, March 16, 1884._ + +MY DEAR MONKHOUSE,--You see with what promptitude I plunge into +correspondence; but the truth is, I am condemned to a complete inaction, +stagnate dismally, and love a letter. Yours, which would have been +welcome at any time, was thus doubly precious. + +Dover sounds somewhat shiveringly in my ears. You should see the weather +_I_ have--cloudless, clear as crystal, with just a punkah-draft of the +most aromatic air, all pine and gum tree. You would be ashamed of Dover; +you would scruple to refer, sir, to a spot so paltry. To be idle at +Dover is a strange pretension; pray, how do you warm yourself? If I were +there I should grind knives or write blank verse, or---- But at least +you do not bathe? It is idle to deny it: I have--I may say I nourish--a +growing jealousy of the robust, large-legged, healthy Britain-dwellers, +patient of grog, scorners of the timid umbrella, innocuously breathing +fog: all which I once was, and I am ashamed to say liked it. How +ignorant is youth! grossly rolling among unselected pleasures; and how +nobler, purer, sweeter, and lighter, to sip the choice tonic, to recline +in the luxurious invalid chair, and to tread, well-shawled, the little +round of the constitutional. Seriously, do you like to repose? Ye gods, +I hate it. I never rest with any acceptation; I do not know what people +mean who say they like sleep and that damned bedtime which, since long +ere I was breeched, has rung a knell to all my day's doings and beings. +And when a man, seemingly sane, tells me he has "fallen in love with +stagnation," I can only say to him, "You will never be a Pirate!" This +may not cause any regret to Mrs. Monkhouse; but in your own soul it will +clang hollow--think of it! Never! After all boyhood's aspirations and +youth's immoral day-dreams, you are condemned to sit down, grossly draw +in your chair to the fat board, and be a beastly Burgess till you die. +Can it be? Is there not some escape, some furlough from the Moral Law, +some holiday jaunt contrivable into a Better Land? Shall we never shed +blood? This prospect is too grey. + + Here lies a man who never did + Anything but what he was bid; + Who lived his life in paltry ease, + And died of commonplace disease. + +To confess plainly, I had intended to spend my life (or any leisure I +might have from Piracy upon the high seas) as the leader of a great +horde of irregular cavalry, devastating whole valleys. I can still, +looking back, see myself in many favourite attitudes; signalling for a +boat from my pirate ship with a pocket-handkerchief, I at the jetty end, +and one or two of my bold blades keeping the crowd at bay; or else +turning in the saddle to look back at my whole command (some five +thousand strong) following me at the hand-gallop up the road out of the +burning valley: this last by moonlight. + +_Et point du tout._ I am a poor scribe, and have scarce broken a +commandment to mention, and have recently dined upon cold veal! As for +you (who probably had some ambitions), I hear of you living at Dover, in +lodgings, like the beasts of the field. But in heaven, when we get +there, we shall have a good time, and see some real carnage. For heaven +is--must be--that great Kingdom of Antinomia, which Lamb saw dimly +adumbrated in the _Country Wife_, where the worm which never dies (the +conscience) peacefully expires, and the sinner lies down beside the Ten +Commandments. Till then, here a sheer hulk lies poor Tom Bowling, with +neither health nor vice for anything more spirited than procrastination, +which I may well call the Consolation Stakes of Wickedness; and by whose +diligent practice, without the least amusement to ourselves, we can rob +the orphan and bring down grey hairs with sorrow to the dust. + +This astonishing gush of nonsense I now hasten to close, envelope, and +expedite to Shakespeare's Cliff. Remember me to Shakespeare, and believe +me, yours very sincerely, + + ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. + + + + +TO EDMUND GOSSE + + + Mr. Gosse had written describing the office which he then occupied, a + picturesque old-fashioned chamber in the upper stories of the Board + of Trade. + + _La Solitude, Hyeres, March 17, 1884._ + +MY DEAR GOSSE,--Your office--office is profanely said--your bower upon +the leads is divine. Have you, like Pepys, "the right to fiddle" there? +I see you mount the companion, barbiton in hand, and, fluttered about by +city sparrows, pour forth your spirit in a voluntary. Now when the +spring begins, you must lay in your flowers: how do you say about a +potted hawthorn? Would it bloom? Wallflower is a choice pot-herb; +lily-of-the-valley, too, and carnation, and Indian cress trailed about +the window, is not only beautiful by colour, but the leaves are good to +eat. I recommend thyme and rosemary for the aroma, which should not be +left upon one side; they are good quiet growths. + +On one of your tables keep a great map spread out; a chart is still +better--it takes one further--the havens with their little anchors, the +rocks, banks, and soundings, are adorably marine; and such furniture +will suit your ship-shape habitation. I wish I could see those cabins; +they smile upon me with the most intimate charm. From your leads, do you +behold St. Paul's? I always like to see the Foolscap; it is London _per +se_ and no spot from which it is visible is without romance. Then it is +good company for the man of letters, whose veritable nursing +Pater-Noster is so near at hand. + +I am all at a standstill; as idle as a painted ship, but not so pretty. +My romance, which has so nearly butchered me in the writing, not even +finished; though so near, thank God, that a few days of tolerable +strength will see the roof upon that structure. I have worked very hard +at it, and so do not expect any great public favour. _In moments of +effort, one learns to do the easy things that people like._ There is the +golden maxim; thus one should strain and then play, strain again and +play again. The strain is for us, it educates; the play is for the +reader, and pleases. Do you not feel so? We are ever threatened by two +contrary faults: both deadly. To sink into what my forefathers would +have called "rank conformity," and to pour forth cheap replicas, upon +the one hand; upon the other, and still more insidiously present, to +forget that art is a diversion and a decoration, that no triumph or +effort is of value, nor anything worth reaching except charm.--Yours +affectionately, + + R. L. S. + + + + +TO MISS FERRIER + + + Soon after the date of the following letter Miss Ferrier went out to + her friends and stayed with them through the trying weeks which + followed. + + _La Solitude, Hyeres_ [_March_ 22, 1884]. + +MY DEAR MISS FERRIER,--Are you really going to fail us? This seems a +dreadful thing. My poor wife, who is not well off for friends on this +bare coast, has been promising herself, and I have been promising her, a +rare acquisition. And now Miss Burn has failed, and you utter a very +doubtful note. You do not know how delightful this place is, nor how +anxious we are for a visit. Look at the names: "The Solitude"--is that +romantic? The palm-trees?--how is that for the gorgeous East? "Var"? the +name of a river--"the quiet waters by"! 'Tis true, they are in another +department, and consist of stones and a biennial spate; but what a +music, what a plash of brooks, for the imagination! We have hills; we +have skies; the roses are putting forth, as yet sparsely; the meadows by +the sea are one sheet of jonquils; the birds sing as in an English +May--for, considering we are in France and serve up our song-birds, I am +ashamed to say, on a little field of toast and with a sprig of thyme (my +own receipt) in their most innocent and now unvocal bellies--considering +all this, we have a wonderfully fair wood-music round this Solitude of +ours. What can I say more?--All this awaits you. _Kennst du das Land_, +in short.--Your sincere friend, + + ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. + + + + +TO W. H. LOW + + + The verses enclosed were the set entitled "The Canoe Speaks," + afterwards printed in _Underwoods_. Stevenson was suffering at this + time from a temporary weakness of the eyesight. + + _La Solitude, Hyeres [April 1884]._ + +MY DEAR LOW,--The blind man in these sprawled lines sends greeting. I +have been ill, as perhaps the papers told you. The news--"great +news--glorious news--sec-ond ed-ition!"--went the round in England. + +Anyway, I now thank you for your pictures, which, particularly the +Arcadian one, we all (Bob included, he was here sick-nursing me) much +liked. + +Herewith are a set of verses which I thought pretty enough to send to +press. Then I thought of the Manhattan, towards whom I have guilty and +compunctious feelings. Last, I had the best thought of all--to send them +to you in case you might think them suitable for illustration. It seemed +to me quite in your vein. If so, good; if not, hand them on to +Manhattan, Century, or Lippincott, at your pleasure, as all three desire +my work or pretend to. But I trust the lines will not go unattended. +Some riverside will haunt you; and O! be tender to my bathing girls. The +lines are copied in my wife's hand, as I cannot see to write otherwise +than with the pen of Cormoran, Gargantua, or Nimrod. Love to your +wife.--Yours ever, + + R. L. S. + +Copied it myself. + + + + +TO THOMAS STEVENSON + + + _La Solitude, Hyeres, April 19, 1884._ + +MY DEAR FATHER,--Yesterday I very powerfully stated the _Haeresis +Stevensoniana_, or the complete body of divinity of the family +theologian, to Miss Ferrier. She was much impressed; so was I. You are a +great heresiarch; and I know no better. Whaur the devil did ye get thon +about the soap? Is it altogether your own? I never heard it elsewhere; +and yet I suspect it must have been held at some time or other, and if +you were to look up you would probably find yourself condemned by some +Council. + +I am glad to hear you are so well. The hear is excellent. The Cornhills +came; I made Miss Ferrier read us _Thrawn Janet_, and was quite bowled +over by my own works. _The Merry Men_ I mean to make much longer, with a +whole new denouement, not yet quite clear to me. _The Story of a Lie_ I +must rewrite entirely also, as it is too weak and ragged, yet is worth +saving for the Admiral. Did I ever tell you that the Admiral was +recognised in America? + +When they are all on their legs this will make an excellent collection. + + +Has Davie never read _Guy Mannering_, _Rob Roy_, or _The Antiquary_? All +of which are worth three _Waverleys_. I think _Kenilworth_ better than +_Waverley_; _Nigel_, too; and _Quentin Durward_ about as good. But it +shows a true piece of insight to prefer _Waverley_, for it _is_ +different; and though not quite coherent, better worked in parts than +almost any other: surely more carefully. It is undeniable that the love +of the slap-dash and the shoddy grew upon Scott with success. Perhaps it +does on many of us, which may be the granite on which D.'s opinion +stands. However, I hold it, in Patrick Walker's phrase, for an "old, +condemned, damnable error." Dr. Simson was condemned by P. W. as being +"a bagful of" such. One of Patrick's amenities! + +Another ground there may be to D.'s opinion; those who avoid (or seek to +avoid) Scott's facility are apt to be continually straining and +torturing their style to get in more of life. And to many the extra +significance does not redeem the strain. + + DOCTOR STEVENSON. + + + + +TO W. E. HENLEY + + + _La Solitude, Hyeres, April 20th, 1884._ + +I have been really ill for two days, hemorrhage, weakness, extreme +nervousness that will not let me lie a moment, and damned sciatica o' +nights; but to-day I am on the recovery. Time; for I was miserable. It +is not often that I suffer, with all my turns and tumbles, from the +sense of serious illness; and I hate it, as I believe everybody does. +And then the combination of not being able to read, not being allowed to +speak, being too weak to write, and not wishing to eat, leaves a man +with some empty seconds. But I bless God, it's over now; to-day I am +much mended. + +Insatiable gulf, greedier than hell, and more silent than the woods of +Styx, have you or have you not lost the dedication to the _Child's +Garden_? Answer that plain question as otherwise I must try to tackle to +it once again. + +Sciatica is a word employed much by Shakespeare in a certain connection. +'Tis true, he was no physician, but as I read, he had smarted in his +day. I, too, do smart. And yet this keen soprano agony, these veins of +fire and bombshell explosions in the knee, are as nothing to a certain +dull, drowsy pain I had when my kidneys were congested at Nice; there +was death in that; the creak of Charon's rowlocks, and the miasmas of +the Styx. I may say plainly, much as I have lost the power of bearing +pain, I had still rather suffer much than die. Not only the love of life +grows on me, but the fear of certain odd end-seconds grows as well. 'Tis +a suffocating business, take it how you will; and Tyrrel and Forest only +bunglers. + +Well, this is an essay on death, or worse, on dying: to return to +daylight and the winds, I perceive I have grown to live too much in my +work and too little in life. 'Tis the dollars do it: the world is too +much. Whenever I think I would like to live a little, I hear the +butcher's cart resounding through the neighbourhood; and so to plunge +again. The fault is a good fault for me; to be able to do so, is to +succeed in life; and my life has been a huge success. I can live with +joy and without disgust in the art by which I try to support myself; I +have the best wife in the world; I have rather more praise and nearly as +much coin as I deserve; my friends are many and true-hearted. Sir, it is +a big thing in successes. And if mine anchorage lies something open to +the wind, Sciatica, if the crew are blind, and the captain spits blood, +one cannot have all, and I may be patched up again, who knows? "His +timbers yet are (indifferently) sound, and he may float again." + +Thanks for the word on _Silverado_.--Yours ever, + + THE SCIATICATED BARD. + + + + +TO TREVOR HADDON + + + The allusions to Skelt, the last of the designers and etchers of + cheap sheets illustrating the popular dramas and melodramas of the + day, will need no explanation to readers familiar with the essay _A + Penny Plain and Twopence Coloured_. + + _La Solitude, Hyeres, April 23rd, 1884._ + +DEAR MR. HADDON,--I am pleased to see your hand again, and, waiting my +wife's return, to guess at some of the contents. For various things have +befallen me of late. First, as you see, I had to change my hand; lastly +I have fallen into a kind of blindness, and cannot read. This more +inclines me for something to do, to answer your letter before I have +read it, a safe plan familiar to diplomatists. + +I gather from half shut eyes that you were a Skeltist; now seriously +that is a good beginning; there is a deal of romance (cheap) in Skelt. +Look at it well, and you will see much of Dickens. And even Skelt is +better than conscientious, grey back-gardens, and conscientious, dull +still lives. The great lack of art just now is a spice of life and +interest; and I prefer galvanism to acquiescence in the grave. All do +not; 'tis an affair of tastes; and mine are young. Those who like death +have their innings to-day with art that is like mahogany and horse-hair +furniture, solid, true, serious and as dead as Caesar. I wish I could +read _Treasure Island_; I believe I should like it. But work done, for +the artist, is the Golden Goose killed; you sell its feathers and lament +the eggs. To-morrow the fresh woods! + +I have been seriously ill, and do not pick up with that finality that I +should like to see. I linger over and digest my convalescence like a +favourite wine; and what with blindness, green spectacles, and +seclusion, cut but a poor figure in the world. + +I made out at the end that you were asking some advice--but what, my +failing eyes refuse to inform me. I must keep a sheet for the answer; +and Mrs. Stevenson still delays, and still I have no resource against +tedium but the waggling of this pen. + +You seem to me to be a pretty lucky young man; keep your eyes open to +your mercies. That part of piety is eternal; and the man who forgets to +be grateful has fallen asleep in life. Please to recognise that you are +unworthy of all that befalls you--unworthy, too, I hear you wail, of +this terrible sermon; but indeed we are not worthy of our fortunes; love +takes us in a counterfeit, success comes to us at play, health stays +with us while we abuse her; and even when we gird at our fellow-men, we +should remember that it is of their good will alone, that we still live +and still have claims to honour. The sins of the most innocent, if they +were exactly visited, would ruin them to the doer. And if you know any +man who believes himself to be worthy of a wife's love, a friend's +affection, a mistress's caress, even if venal, you may rest assured he +is worthy of nothing but a kicking. I fear men who have no open faults; +what do they conceal? We are not meant to be good in this world, but to +try to be, and fail, and keep on trying; and when we get a cake to say, +"Thank God!" and when we get a buffet, to say, "Just so: well hit!" + +I have been getting some of the buffets of late; but have amply earned +them--you need not pity me. Pity sick children and the individual poor +man; not the mass. Don't pity anybody else, and never pity fools. The +optimistic Stevenson; but there is a sense in these wanderings. + +Now I have heard your letter, and my sermon was not mal-a-propos. For +you seem to be complaining. Everybody's home is depressing, I believe; +it is their difficult business to make it less so. There is an +unpleasant saying, which would have pricked me sharply at your +age.--Yours truly, + + ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. + + + + +TO COSMO MONKHOUSE + + + _La Solitude, Hyeres [April 24, 1884]._ + +DEAR MONKHOUSE,--If you are in love with repose, here is your occasion: +change with me. I am too blind to read, hence no reading; I am too weak +to walk, hence no walking; I am not allowed to speak, hence no talking; +but the great simplification has yet to be named; for, if this goes on, +I shall soon have nothing to eat--and hence, O Hallelujah! hence no +eating. The offer is a fair one: I have not sold myself to the devil, +for I could never find him. I am married, but so are you. I sometimes +write verses, but so do you. Come! _Hic quies!_ As for the commandments, +I have broken them so small that they are the dust of my chambers; you +walk upon them, triturate and toothless; and with the Golosh of +Philosophy, they shall not bite your heel. True, the tenement is +falling. Ay, friend, but yours also. Take a larger view; what is a year +or two? dust in the balance! 'Tis done, behold you Cosmo Stevenson, and +me R. L. Monkhouse; you at Hyeres, I in London; you rejoicing in the +clammiest repose, me proceeding to tear your tabernacle into rags, as I +have already so admirably torn my own. + +My place to which I now introduce you--it is yours--is like a London +house, high and very narrow; upon the lungs I will not linger; the heart +is large enough for a ballroom; the belly greedy and inefficient; the +brain stocked with the most damnable explosives, like a dynamiter's den. +The whole place is well furnished, though not in a very pure taste; +Corinthian much of it; showy and not strong. + +About your place I shall try to find my way above, an interesting +exploration. Imagine me, as I go to bed, falling over a blood-stained +remorse; opening that cupboard in the cerebellum and being welcomed by +the spirit of your murdered uncle. I should probably not like your +remorses; I wonder if you will like mine; I have a spirited assortment; +they whistle in my ear o' nights like a north-easter. I trust yours +don't dine with the family; mine are better mannered; you will hear +nought of them till 2 A.M., except one, to be sure, that I have made a +pet of, but he is small; I keep him in buttons, so as to avoid +commentaries; you will like him much--if you like what is genuine. + +Must we likewise change religions? Mine is a good article, with a trick +of stopping; cathedral bell note; ornamental dial; supported by Venus +and the Graces; quite a summer-parlour piety. Of yours, since your last, +I fear there is little to be said. + +There is one article I wish to take away with me: my spirits. They suit +me. I don't want yours; I like my own; I have had them a long while in +bottle. It is my only reservation.--Yours (as you decide), + + R. L. MONKHOUSE. + + + + +TO W. E. HENLEY + + + _La Solitude, Hyeres [May 1884]._ + +DEAR BOY,--_Old Mortality_[9] is out, and I am glad to say Coggie likes +it. We like her immensely. + +I keep better, but no great shakes yet; cannot work--cannot: that is +flat, not even verses: as for prose, that more active place is shut on +me long since. + +My view of life is essentially the comic; and the romantically comic. +_As You Like It_ is to me the most bird-haunted spot in letters; +_Tempest_ and _Twelfth Night_ follow. These are what I mean by poetry +and nature. I make an effort of my mind to be quite one with Moliere, +except upon the stage, where his inimitable _jeux de scene_ beggar +belief; but you will observe they are stage-plays--things _ad hoc_; not +great Olympian debauches of the heart and fancy; hence more perfect, and +not so great. Then I come, after great wanderings, to Carmosine and to +Fantasio; to one part of La Derniere Aldini (which, by the by, we might +dramatise in a week), to the notes that Meredith has found, Evan and the +postillion, Evan and Rose, Harry in Germany. And to me these things are +the good; beauty, touched with sex and laughter; beauty with God's earth +for the background. Tragedy does not seem to me to come off; and when it +does, it does so by the heroic illusion; the anti-masque has been +omitted; laughter, which attends on all our steps in life, and sits by +the deathbed, and certainly redacts the epitaph, laughter has been lost +from these great-hearted lies. But the comedy which keeps the beauty and +touches the terrors of our life (laughter and tragedy-in-a-good-humour +having kissed), that is the last word of moved representation; embracing +the greatest number of elements of fate and character; and telling its +story, not with the one eye of pity, but with the two of pity and mirth. + + R. L. S. + + + + +TO EDMUND GOSSE + + + Early in May Stevenson again fell very dangerously ill with + hemorrhage of the lungs, and lay for several weeks between life and + death, until towards the end of June he was brought sufficiently + round to venture by slow stages on the journey to England, staying + for two or three weeks at Royat on the way. His correspondent had + lately been appointed Clark Reader in English Literature at Trinity + College, Cambridge. + + _[La Solitude, Hyeres] From my bed, May 29, 1884._ + +DEAR GOSSE,--The news of the Professorate found me in the article +of--well, of heads or tails; I am still in bed, and a very poor person. +You must thus excuse my damned delay; but, I assure you, I was +delighted. You will believe me the more, if I confess to you that my +first sentiment was envy; yes, sir, on my blood-boltered couch I envied +the professor. However, it was not of long duration; the double thought +that you deserved and that you would thoroughly enjoy your success fell +like balsam on my wounds. How came it that you never communicated my +rejection of Gilder's offer for the Rhone? But it matters not. Such +earthly vanities are over for the present. This has been a fine +well-conducted illness. A month in bed; a month of silence; a fortnight +of not stirring my right hand; a month of not moving without being +lifted. Come! _Ca y est_: devilish like being dead.--Yours, dear +Professor, academically, + + R. L. S. + + +I am soon to be moved to Royat; an invalid valet goes with me! I got him +cheap--second-hand. + +In turning over my late friend Ferrier's commonplace book, I find three +poems from _Viol and Flute_ copied out in his hand: "When Flower-time," +"Love in Winter," and "Mistrust." They are capital too. But I thought +the fact would interest you. He was no poetist either; so it means the +more. "Love in W.!" I like the best. + + + + +TO SIDNEY COLVIN + + + Enclosing some supplementary verses for the _Child's Garden_. + + _Marseilles, June 1884._ + +DEAR S. C.,--Are these four in time? No odds about order. I am at +Marseille and stood the journey wonderfully. Better address Hotel +Chabassiere, Royat, Puy de Dome. You see how this d--d poeshie flows +from me in sickness: Are they good or bad? Wha kens? But I like the +_Little Land_, I think, as well as any. As time goes on I get more fancy +in. We have no money, but a valet and a maid. The valet is no end; how +long can you live on a valet? Vive le valet! I am tempted to call myself +a valetudinarian. I love my love with a V because he is a +Valetudinarian; I took him to Valetta or Valais, gave him his Vails and +tenderly addressed him with one word, + + Vale. + + +_P.S._--It does not matter of course about order. As soon as I have all +the slips I shall organise the book for the publisher. A set of 8 will +be put together under the title _An Only Child_; another cycle of 10 +will be called _In the Garden_, and other six called _Bedtime_ to end +all up. It will now make quite a little volume of a good way upwards of +100 pp. Will you instruct Bain to send me a Bible; of a type that I can +read without blindness; the better if with notes; there is a Clarendon +Press Bible, pray see it yourself. I also want Ewald's History in a +translation. + + R. L. S. + + + + +TO SIDNEY COLVIN + + + The play of _Deacon Brodie_, the joint work of R. L. S. and W. E. H., + was to be performed in London early in July. + + [_Hotel Chabassiere, Royat, July 1884._] + +DEAR S. C.,--Books received with great thanks. Very nice books, though I +see you underrate my cecity: I could no more read their beautiful Bible +than I could sail in heaven. However I have sent for another and can +read the rest for patience. + +I quite understand your feelings about the _Deacon_, which is a far way +behind; but I get miserable when I think of Henley cutting this splash +and standing, I fear, to lose a great deal of money. It is about Henley, +not Brodie, that I care. I fear my affections are not strong to my past +works; they are blotted out by others; and anyhow the _Deacon_ is damn +bad. + +I am half asleep and can no more discourse. Say to your friends, "Look +here, some friends of mine are bringing out a play; it has some stuff; +suppose you go and see it." But I know I am a cold, unbelieving fellow, +incapable of those hot claps that honour you and Henley and therefore--I +am asleep. _Child's Garden_ (first instalment) come. Fanny ill; self +asleep. + + R. L. S. + + + + +TO MR. AND MRS. THOMAS STEVENSON + + + _Hotel Chabassiere, Royat [July 1884]._ + +MY DEAR PEOPLE,--The weather has been demoniac; I have had a skiff of +cold, and was finally obliged to take to bed entirely; to-day, however, +it has cleared, the sun shines, and I begin to + + * * * * * + +_Several days after._--I have been out once, but now am back in bed. I +am better, and keep better, but the weather is a mere injustice. The +imitation of Edinburgh is, at times, deceptive; there is a note among +the chimney pots that suggests Howe Street; though I think the shrillest +spot in Christendom was not upon the Howe Street side, but in front, +just under the Miss Graemes' big chimney stack. It had a fine alto +character--a sort of bleat that used to divide the marrow in my +joints--say in the wee, slack hours. That music is now lost to us by +rebuilding; another air that I remember, not regret, was the solo of the +gas-burner in the little front room; a knickering, flighty, fleering, +and yet spectral cackle. I mind it above all on winter afternoons, late, +when the window was blue and spotted with rare rain-drops, and, looking +out, the cold evening was seen blue all over, with the lamps of Queen's +and Frederick's Street dotting it with yellow, and flaring eastward in +the squalls. Heavens, how unhappy I have been in such circumstances--I, +who have now positively forgotten the colour of unhappiness; who am full +like a fed ox, and dull like a fresh turf, and have no more spiritual +life, for good or evil, than a French bagman. + +We are at Chabassiere's, for of course it was nonsense to go up the hill +when we could not walk. + +The child's poems in a far extended form are likely soon to be heard +of--which Cummy I dare say will be glad to know. They will make a book +of about one hundred pages.--Ever your affectionate, + + R. L. S. + + + + +TO SIDNEY COLVIN + + + I had reported to Stevenson a remark made by one of his greatest + admirers, Sir E. Burne-Jones, on some particular analogy, I forget + what, between a passage of Defoe and one in _Treasure Island_. + + [_Hotel Chabassiere, Royat, July 1884._] + +... Here is a quaint thing, I have read _Robinson_, _Colonel Jack_, +_Moll Flanders_, _Memoirs of a Cavalier_, _History of the Plague_, +_History of the Great Storm_, _Scotch Church and Union_. And there my +knowledge of Defoe ends--except a book, the name of which I forget, +about Peterborough in Spain, which Defoe obviously did not write, and +could not have written if he wanted. To which of these does B. J. refer? +I guess it must be the history of the Scottish Church. I jest; for, of +course, I _know_ it must be a book I have never read, and which this +makes me keen to read--I mean _Captain Singleton_. Can it be got and +sent to me? If _Treasure Island_ is at all like it, it will be +delightful. I was just the other day wondering at my folly in not +remembering it, when I was writing _T. I._, as a mine for pirate tips. +_T. I._ came out of Kingsley's _At Last_, where I got the Dead Man's +Chest--and that was the seed--and out of the great Captain Johnson's +_History of Notorious Pirates_. The scenery is Californian in part, and +in part _chic_. + +I was downstairs to-day! So now I am a made man--till the next time. + + R. L. STEVENSON. + +If it was _Captain Singleton_, send it to me, won't you? + + +_Later._--My life dwindles into a kind of valley of the shadow picnic. I +cannot read; so much of the time (as to-day) I must not speak above my +breath, that to play patience, or to see my wife play it, is become the +be-all and the end-all of my dim career. To add to my gaiety, I may +write letters, but there are few to answer. Patience and Poesy are thus +my rod and staff; with these I not unpleasantly support my days. + +I am very dim, dumb, dowie, and damnable. I hate to be silenced; and if +to talk by signs is my forte (as I contend), to understand them cannot +be my wife's. Do not think me unhappy; I have not been so for years; but +I am blurred, inhabit the debatable frontier of sleep, and have but dim +designs upon activity. All is at a standstill; books closed, paper put +aside, the voice, the eternal voice of R. L. S., well silenced. Hence +this plaint reaches you with no very great meaning, no very great +purpose, and written part in slumber by a heavy, dull, somnolent, +superannuated son of a bedpost. + + + + +TO W. E. HENLEY + + + I suppose, but cannot remember, that I had in the meantime sent him + _Captain Singleton_. + + [_Hotel Chabassiere, Royat, July 1884._] + +DEAR BOY,--I am glad that ---- ---- has disappointed you. Depend upon +it, nobody is so bad as to be worth scalping, except your dearest +friends and parents; and scalping them may sometimes be avoided by +scalping yourself. I grow daily more lymphatic and benign; bring me a +dynamiter, that I may embrace and bless him!--So, if I continue to evade +the friendly hemorrhage, I shall be spared in anger to pour forth senile +and insignificant volumes, and the clever lads in the journals, not +doubting of the eye of Nemesis, shall mock and gird at me. + +All this seems excellent news of the _Deacon_. But O! that the last +tableau, on from Leslie's entrance, were re-written! We had a great +opening there and missed it. I read for the first time _Captain +Singleton_; it has points; and then I re-read _Colonel Jack_ with +ecstasy; the first part is as much superior to _Robinson Crusoe_ as +_Robinson_ is to--_The Inland Voyage_. It is pretty, good, +philosophical, dramatic, and as picturesque as a promontory goat in a +gale of wind. Get it and fill your belly with honey. + +Fanny hopes to be in time for the _Deacon_. I was out yesterday, and +none the worse. We leave Monday. + + R. L. S. + + +FOOTNOTES: + + [1] For many years fellow of and historical lecturer at Trinity + College, Cambridge. + + [2] _Paillon._ + + [3] The name of the Delectable Land in one of Heine's _Lieder_. + + [4] _Silverado Squatters_. + + [5] The allusion is to a specimen I had been used to hear quoted of + the Duke of Wellington's table-talk in his latter years. He had said + that musk-rats were sometimes kept alive in bottles in India. Curate, + or other meek dependent: "I presume, your Grace, they are small rats + and large bottles." His Grace: "No, large rats, small bottles; large + rats, small bottles; large rats, small bottles." + + [6] _Croutes_: crude studies from nature. + + [7] Mr. J. Comyns Carr, at this time editing the English Illustrated + Magazine. + + [8] A favourite Skye terrier. Mr. Stevenson was a great lover of dogs. + + [9] The essay so called, suggested by the death of J. W. Ferrier. See + _Memories and Portraits_. + + + + +VIII + +LIFE AT BOURNEMOUTH + +SEPTEMBER 1884--AUGUST 1887 + + +Arriving in England at the end of July 1884, Stevenson took up his +quarters first for a few weeks at Richmond. He was compelled to abandon +the hope of making his permanent home at Hyeres, partly by the renewed +failure there of his own health, partly by a bad outbreak of cholera +which occurred in the old Provencal town about the time he left it. +After consultation with several doctors, all of whom held out hopes of +ultimate recovery despite the gravity of his present symptoms, he moved +to Bournemouth. Here he found in the heaths and pinewoods some distant +semblance of the landscape of his native Scotland, and in the sandy +curves of the Channel coast a passable substitute for the bays and +promontories of his beloved Mediterranean. At all events, he liked the +place well enough to be willing to try it for a home; and such it became +for all but three years, from September 1884 to August 1887. These, +although in the matter of health the worst and most trying years of his +life, were in the matter of work some of the most active and successful. +For the first two or three months the Stevensons occupied a lodging on +the West Cliff called Wensleydale; for the next five, from mid-November +1884 to mid-April 1885, they were tenants of a house named Bonallie +Towers, pleasantly situated amid the pinewoods of Branksome Park, and +by its name recalling familiar Midlothian associations. Lastly, about +Easter 1885, they entered into occupation of a house of their own, given +by the elder Mr. Stevenson as a special gift to his daughter-in-law, and +renamed by its new occupants Skerryvore, in reminiscence of one of the +great lighthouse works carried out by the family firm off the Scottish +coast. + +During all the time of Stevenson's residence at Bournemouth he was +compelled to lead the life, irksome to him above all men, but borne with +invincible spirit and patience, of a chronic invalid and almost constant +prisoner to the house. A great part of his time had perforce to be spent +in bed, and there almost all his literary work was produced. Often for +days, and sometimes for whole weeks together, he was forbidden to speak +aloud, and compelled to carry on conversation with his family and +friends in whispers or with the help of pencil and paper. The few +excursions to a distance which he attempted--most commonly to my house +at the British Museum, once to Cambridge, once to Matlock, once to +Exeter, and once in 1886 as far as Paris--these excursions generally +ended in a breakdown and a hurried retreat to home and bed. +Nevertheless, he was able in intervals of comparative ease to receive +and enjoy the visits of friends from a distance both old and new--among +the most welcome of the latter being Mr. Henry James, Mr. William +Archer, and Mr. John S. Sargent; while among Bournemouth residents who +attached themselves to him on terms of special intimacy and affection +were Sir Percy and Lady Shelley and Sir Henry and Lady Taylor and their +daughters. + +At the same time, seizing and making the most of every week, nay, every +day and hour of respite, he contrived to produce work surprising, under +the circumstances, alike by quantity and quality. During the first two +months of his life at Bournemouth the two plays _Admiral Guinea_ and +_Beau Austin_ were written in collaboration with Mr. Henley, and many +other dramatic schemes were broached which health and leisure failed him +to carry out. In the course of the next few months he finished _Prince +Otto_, _The Child's Garden of Verses_, and _More New Arabian Nights_, +all three of which had been begun, and the two first almost completed, +before he left Hyeres. He at the same time attacked two new tasks--a +highway novel called _The Great North Road_, and a _Life of Wellington_ +for a series edited by Mr. Andrew Lang, both of which he had in the +sequel to abandon; and a third, the boys' story of _Kidnapped_, which in +its turn had to be suspended, but on its publication next year turned +out one of the most brilliant of his successes. + +About midsummer of this year, 1885, he was distressed by the sudden +death of his old and kind friend Professor Fleeming Jenkin, and after a +while undertook the task of writing a memoir of him to be prefixed to +his collected papers. Towards the close of the same year he was busy +with what proved to be the most popular of all his writings, _The +Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde_, and with the Christmas story +of _Olalla_. _Jekyll and Hyde_ was published in January 1886, and after +threatening for the first week or two to fall flat, in no long time +caught the attention of all classes of readers, was quoted from a +hundred pulpits, and made the writer's name familiar to multitudes both +in England and America whom it had never reached before. A success +scarcely inferior, though of another kind, was made a few months +afterwards by _Kidnapped_, which Stevenson had taken up again in the +early spring, and which was published about midsummer. After completing +this task in March, he was able to do little work during the remainder +of the year, except in preparing materials for the _Life of Fleeming +Jenkin_, and in writing occasional verses which helped to make up the +collection published in the following year under the title _Underwoods_. +In the early autumn of the same year, 1886, he took a longer and more +successful excursion from home than usual, staying without breakdown for +two or three weeks at the Monument, as he always called my house at the +British Museum, and seeing something of kindred spirits among his +elders, such as Robert Browning, James Russell Lowell, the painters +Burne-Jones and W. B. Richmond, and others who had hitherto delighted in +his work and now learned to delight no less in his society. + +Thence he went with Mr. Henley for a short trip to Paris, chiefly in +order to see the sculptor Rodin and his old friends Mr. and Mrs. W. H. +Low. From this trip he returned none the worse, but during all the later +autumn and winter at Bournemouth was again hampered in his work by +renewed and prolonged attacks of illness. A further cause of trouble was +the distressing failure of his father's health and spirits, attended by +symptoms which plainly indicated the beginning of the end. + +For some weeks of April, 1887, he was much taken up with a scheme which +had nothing to do with literature, and which the few friends to whom he +confided it regarded as wildly Quixotic and unwise. In these years he +had, as we have seen, taken deeply to heart both what he thought the +guilty remissness of Government action in the matter of the Soudan +garrisons and of Gordon, and the tameness of acquiescence with which the +national conscience appeared to take the result. He had been not less +disturbed at the failure, hitherto, of successive administrations to +assert the reign of law in Ireland. He was no blind partisan of the +English cause in that country, and had even written of the hereditary +hatred of Irish for English as a sentiment justified by the facts of +history. But he held strongly that private warfare, the use of dynamite +and the knife, with the whole system of agrarian vengeances and the +persecution of the weak, were means which no end could justify; and that +redress of grievances, whatever form it might ultimately take, must be +preceded by the re-establishment of law. In _More New Arabian Nights_, +published the year before, he had endeavoured "to make dynamite +ridiculous if he could not make it horrible," and to the old elements of +fantastic invention, and humorously solemn realism in the unreal, had +added the new element of a witty and scornful criminal psychology. A +case that now appealed to him with especial force was that of the cruel +persecution kept up against the widow and daughters of the murdered man +Curtin. He determined that if no one else would take up the duty of +resisting such persecution without regard to consequences, he would take +it up himself, in the hope of more effectually rousing the public +conscience to the evils of the time. His plan was to go with his family, +occupy and live upon the derelict farm, and let happen what would. This, +as the letters referring to the matter plainly show, was no +irresponsible dream or whim, but a purpose conceived in absolute and +sober earnest. His wife and household were prepared to follow, though +under protest, had he persisted; as it seemed for some weeks that he +certainly would, until at last the arguments of his friends, and still +more the unmistakable evidence that his father's end was near, +persuaded him to give up his purpose. But to the last, I think he was +never well satisfied that in giving way he had not been a coward, +preferring fireside ease and comfort to the call of a public duty. + +After spending a part of the winter at Bournemouth and a part at +Torquay, both Stevenson's parents returned to Edinburgh in April 1887; +and within a few weeks after their arrival he was summoned north to his +father's death-bed. He stayed at Edinburgh the short time necessary for +the dispatch of business, and returned to his own sick-room life at +Skerryvore. + +During the two years and nine months of Stevenson's residence at +Bournemouth, preceding the date of his father's death, he had made no +apparent progress towards recovery. Every period of respite had been +quickly followed by a relapse, and all his work, brilliant and varied as +it was, had been done under conditions which would have reduced almost +any other man to inactivity. The close and frequently recurring +struggles against the danger of death from hemorrhage and exhaustion, +which he had been used, when they first occurred, to find exciting, grew +in the long run merely irksome; and even his persistent high courage and +gaiety, sustained as they were by the devoted affection of his wife and +many friends, began occasionally, for the first time, to fail him. +Accordingly, when in May 1887 the death of his father severed the +strongest of the ties which bound him to the old country, he was very +ready to listen to the advice of his physicians, who were unanimous in +thinking his case not hopeless, but urged him to try some complete +change of climate, surroundings, and mode of life. His wife's +connections pointing to the West, he thought of the mountain +health-resorts of Colorado, and of their growing reputation for the +cure of lung patients. Having let his house at Bournemouth, he +accordingly took passage on board the S.S. _Ludgate Hill_, sailing for +New York from London on August 21st, 1887, with his whole party, +consisting of his wife, his widowed mother, whom they had persuaded to +join them, his young stepson, and a trusted servant, Valentine Roch. The +concluding letters of the present section tell of the preparations for +this departure. + + + + +TO MR. AND MRS. THOMAS STEVENSON + + + _Wensleydale, Bournemouth, Sunday, 28th September 1884._ + +MY DEAR PEOPLE,--I keep better, and am to-day downstairs for the first +time. I find the lockers entirely empty; not a cent to the front. Will +you pray send us some? It blows an equinoctial gale, and has blown for +nearly a week. Nimbus Britannicus; piping wind, lashing rain; the sea is +a fine colour, and wind-bound ships lie at anchor under the Old Harry +rocks, to make one glad to be ashore. + +The Henleys are gone, and two plays practically done. I hope they may +produce some of the ready.--I am, ever affectionate son, + + R. L. S. + + + + +TO ANDREW CHATTO + + + During the earlier Bournemouth days were firmly established + Stevenson's cordial relations with the several English publishers + Cassell & Co., Chatto & Windus, and Longmans, and a little later with + C. Scribner's Sons in America. + + _Wensleydale, Bournemouth, October 3, 1884._ + +DEAR MR. CHATTO,--I have an offer of L25 for _Otto_ from America. I do +not know if you mean to have the American rights; from the nature of the +contract, I think not; but if you understood that you were to sell the +sheets, I will either hand over the bargain to you, or finish it myself +and hand you over the money if you are pleased with the amount. You see, +I leave this quite in your hands. To parody an old Scotch story of +servant and master: if you don't know that you have a good author, I +know that I have a good publisher. Your fair, open, and handsome +dealings are a good point in my life, and do more for my crazy health +than has yet been done by any doctor.--Very truly yours, + + ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. + + + + +TO W. E. HENLEY + + + There is no certain clue to the date of the following; neither has it + been possible to make sure what was the enclosure mentioned. The + special illness referred to seems to be that of the preceding May at + Hyeres. + + [_Wensleydale, Bournemouth, October 1884?_] + +DEAR BOY,--I trust this finds you well; it leaves me so-so. The weather +is so cold that I must stick to bed, which is rotten and tedious, but +can't be helped. + +I find in the blotting book the enclosed, which I wrote to you the eve +of my blood. Is it not strange? That night, when I naturally thought I +was coopered, the thought of it was much in my mind; I thought it had +gone; and I thought what a strange prophecy I had made in jest, and how +it was indeed like to be the end of many letters. But I have written a +good few since, and the spell is broken. I am just as pleased, for I +earnestly desire to live. This pleasant middle age into whose port we +are steering is quite to my fancy. I would cast anchor here, and go +ashore for twenty years and see the manners of the place. Youth was a +great time, but somewhat fussy. Now in middle age (bar lucre) all seems +mighty placid. It likes me; I spy a little bright cafe in one corner of +the port, in front of which I now propose we should sit down. There is +just enough of the bustle of the harbour and no more; and the ships are +close in, regarding us with stern-windows--the ships that bring deals +from Norway and parrots from the Indies. Let us sit down here for twenty +years, with a packet of tobacco and a drink, and talk of art and women. +By-and-by, the whole city will sink, and the ships too, and the table, +and we also; but we shall have sat for twenty years and had a fine talk; +and by that time, who knows? exhausted the subject. + +I send you a book which (or I am mistook) will please you; it pleased +me. But I do desire a book of adventure--a romance--and no man will get +or write me one. Dumas I have read and re-read too often; Scott, too and +I am short. I want to hear swords clash. I want a book to begin in a +good way; a book, I guess, like _Treasure Island_, alas! which I have +never read, and cannot though I live to ninety. I would God that some +one else had written it! By all that I can learn, it is the very book +for my complaint. I like the way I hear it opens; and they tell me John +Silver is good fun. And to me it is, and must ever be, a dream +unrealised, a book unwritten. O my sighings after romance, or even +Skeltery, and O! the weary age which will produce me neither! + + +CHAPTER I + +The night was damp and cloudy, the ways foul. The single horseman, +cloaked and booted, who pursued his way across Willesden Common, had not +met a traveller, when the sound of wheels---- + + +CHAPTER I + +"Yes, sir," said the old pilot, "she must have dropped into the bay a +little afore dawn. A queer craft she looks." + +"She shows no colours," returned the young gentleman musingly. + +"They're a-lowering of a quarter-boat, Mr. Mark," resumed the old salt. +"We shall soon know more of her." + +"Ay," replied the young gentleman called Mark, "and here, Mr. Seadrift, +comes your sweet daughter Nancy tripping down the cliff." + +"God bless her kind heart, sir," ejaculated old Seadrift. + + +CHAPTER I + +The notary, Jean Rossignol, had been summoned to the top of a great +house in the Isle St. Louis to make a will; and now, his duties +finished, wrapped in a warm roquelaure and with a lantern swinging from +one hand, he issued from the mansion on his homeward way. Little did he +think what strange adventures were to befall him!---- + +That is how stories should begin. And I am offered HUSKS instead. + + What should be: What is: + The Filibuster's Cache. Aunt Anne's Tea Cosy. + Jerry Abershaw. Mrs. Brierly's Niece. + Blood Money: A Tale. Society: A Novel. + + R. L. S. + + + + +TO THE REV. PROFESSOR LEWIS CAMPBELL + + + In reply to a gift of books, including the correspondent's well-known + translation of Sophocles. + + [_Wensleydale, Bournemouth, November 1884._] + +MY DEAR CAMPBELL,--The books came duly to hand. My wife has occupied the +translation ever since, nor have I yet been able to dislodge her. As for +the primer, I have read it with a very strange result: that I find no +fault. If you knew how, dogmatic and pugnacious, I stand warden on the +literary art, you would the more appreciate your success and my--well, I +will own it--disappointment. For I love to put people right (or wrong) +about the arts. But what you say of Tragedy and of Sophocles very amply +satisfies me; it is well felt and well said; a little less technically +than it is my weakness to desire to see it put, but clear and adequate. +You are very right to express your admiration for the resource displayed +in Oedipus King; it is a miracle. Would it not have been well to mention +Voltaire's interesting onslaught, a thing which gives the best lesson of +the difference of neighbour arts?--since all his criticisms, which had +been fatal to a narrative, do not amount among them to exhibit one flaw +in this masterpiece of drama. For the drama, it is perfect; though such +a fable in a romance might make the reader crack his sides, so +imperfect, so ethereally slight is the verisimilitude required of these +conventional, rigid, and egg-dancing arts. + +I was sorry to see no more of you; but shall conclude by hoping for +better luck next time. My wife begs to be remembered to both of +you.--Yours sincerely, + + ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. + + + + +TO W. E. HENLEY + + + The "Arabs" mentioned below are the stories comprised in the volume + _More New Arabian Nights: The Dynamiter_, written by Stevenson and + his wife in collaboration. + + _Wensleydale, Bournemouth, November 1884._ + +DEAR HENLEY,--We are all to pieces in health, and heavily handicapped +with Arabs. I have a dreadful cough, whose attacks leave me _aetat_. 90. +I never let up on the Arabs, all the same, and rarely get less than +eight pages out of hand, though hardly able to come downstairs for +twittering knees. + +I shall put in ----'s letter. He says so little of his circumstances +that I am in an impossibility to give him advice more specific than a +copybook. Give him my love, however, and tell him it is the mark of the +parochial gentleman who has never travelled to find all wrong in a +foreign land. Let him hold on, and he will find one country as good as +another; and in the meanwhile let him resist the fatal British tendency +to communicate his dissatisfaction with a country to its inhabitants. +'Tis a good idea, but it somehow fails to please. In a fortnight, if I +can keep my spirit in the box at all, I should be nearly through this +Arabian desert; so can tackle something fresh.--Yours ever, + + R. L. S. + + + + +TO W. H. LOW + + + It was some twenty months since the plan of publishing the _Child's + Garden_ in the first instance as a picture-book had been mooted (see + above, pp. 18, foll.). But it had never taken effect, and in the + following March the volume appeared without illustrations in England, + and also, I believe, in America. + + _Bonallie Towers, Branksome Park, Bournemouth, Hants, England, + First week in November, I guess, 1884._ + +MY DEAR LOW,--Now, look here, the above is my address for three months, +I hope; continue, on your part, if you please, to write to Edinburgh, +which is safe; but if Mrs. Low thinks of coming to England, she might +take a run down from London (four hours from Waterloo, main line) and +stay a day or two with us among the pines. If not, I hope it will be +only a pleasure deferred till you can join her. + +My Children's Verses will be published here in a volume called _A +Child's Garden_. The sheets are in hand; I will see if I cannot send you +the lot, so that you might have a bit of a start. In that case I would +do nothing to publish in the States, and you might try an illustrated +edition there; which, if the book went fairly over here, might, when +ready, be imported. But of this more fully ere long. You will see some +verses of mine in the last Magazine of Art, with pictures by a young +lady; rather pretty, I think. If we find a market for _Phasellulus +loquitur_, we can try another. I hope it isn't necessary to put the +verse into that rustic printing. I am Philistine enough to prefer clean +printer's type; indeed, I can form no idea of the verses thus +transcribed by the incult and tottering hand of the draughtsman, nor +gather any impression beyond one of weariness to the eyes. Yet the other +day, in the Century, I saw it imputed as a crime to Vedder that he had +not thus travestied Omar Khayyam. We live in a rum age of music without +airs, stories without incident, pictures without beauty, American wood +engravings that should have been etchings, and dry-point etchings that +ought to have been mezzotints. I think of giving 'em literature without +words; and I believe if you were to try invisible illustration, it would +enjoy a considerable vogue. So long as an artist is on his head, is +painting with a flute, or writes with an etcher's needle, or conducts +the orchestra with a meat-axe, all is well; and plaudits shower along +with roses. But any plain man who tries to follow the obtrusive canons +of his art, is but a commonplace figure. To hell with him is the motto, +or at least not that; for he will have his reward, but he will never be +thought a person of parts. + +_January 3, 1885._--And here has this been lying near two months. I have +failed to get together a preliminary copy of the Child's Verses for you, +in spite of doughty efforts; but yesterday I sent you the first sheet of +the definitive edition, and shall continue to send the others as they +come. If you can, and care to, work them--why so, well. If not, I send +you fodder. But the time presses; for though I will delay a little over +the proofs, and though it is even possible they may delay the English +issue until Easter, it will certainly not be later. Therefore perpend, +and do not get caught out. Of course, if you can do pictures, it will be +a great pleasure to me to see our names joined; and more than that, a +great advantage, as I dare say you may be able to make a bargain for +some share a little less spectral than the common for the poor author. +But this is all as you shall choose; I give you _carte blanche_ to do or +not to do.--Yours most sincerely, + + ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. + + +O, Sargent has been and painted my portrait; a very nice fellow he is, +and is supposed to have done well; it is a poetical but very +chicken-boned figure-head, as thus represented. + + R. L. S. Go on. + + +_P.P.S._--Your picture came; and let me thank you for it very much. I am +so hunted I had near forgotten. I find it very graceful; and I mean to +have it framed. + + + + +TO SIR WALTER SIMPSON + + + _Bonallie Towers, Branksome Park, Bournemouth [first week of + November 1884]._ + +MY DEAR SIMPSON,--At last, after divers adventures here we are: not +Pommery and Greno as you see, "but jist plain auld Bonellie, no very +faur frae Jenniper Green," as I might say if I were writing to Charles. +I hope now to receive a good bundle from you ere long; and I will try to +be both prompt and practical in response. I hope to hear your boy is +better: ah, that's where it bites, I know, that is where the childless +man rejoices; although, to confess fully, my whole philosophy of life +renounces these renunciations; I am persuaded we gain nothing in the +least comparable to what we lose, by holding back the hand from any +province of life; the intrigue, the imbroglio, such as it is, was made +for the plunger and not for the teetotaller. And anyway I hope your news +is good. + +I have nearly finished Lawson's most lively pamphlet. It is very clear +and interesting. For myself, I am in our house--a home of our own, in a +most lovely situation, among forest trees, where I hope you will come +and see us and find me in a repaired and more comfortable +condition--greatly pleased with it--rather hard-up, verging on the +dead-broke--and full tilt at hammering up some New Arabians for the pot. + +I wonder what you do without regular habits of work. I am capable of +only two theories of existence: the industrious worker's, the +spreester's; all between seems blank to me. We grow too old, and I, at +least, am too much deteriorated, for the last; and the first becomes a +bedrock necessary. My father is in a gloomy state and has the yellow +flag at the peak, or the fore, or wherever it should be; and he has just +emptied some melancholy vials on me; I am also, by way of change, +spitting blood. This somewhat clouds the termination of my note.--Yours +ever affectionately, + + ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. + + + + +TO THOMAS STEVENSON + + + About this time Mr. Stevenson was in some hesitation as to letting + himself be proposed for the office of President of the Royal Society + of Edinburgh. + + _Bonallie Towers, Bournemouth, November 1884._ + +MY DEAR FATHER,--I have no hesitation in recommending you to let your +name go up; please yourself about an address; though I think, if we +could meet, we could arrange something suitable. What you propose would +be well enough in a way, but so modest as to suggest a whine. From that +point of view it would be better to change a little; but this, whether +we meet or not, we must discuss. Tait, Chrystal, the Royal Society, and +I, all think you amply deserve this honour and far more; it is not the +True Blue to call this serious compliment a "trial"; you should be glad +of this recognition. As for resigning, that is easy enough if found +necessary; but to refuse would be husky and unsatisfactory. _Sic subs._ + + R. L. S. + + +My cold is still very heavy; but I carry it well. Fanny is very very +much out of sorts, principally through perpetual misery with me. I fear +I have been a little in the dumps, which, _as you know, sir_, is a very +great sin. I must try to be more cheerful; but my cough is so severe +that I have sometimes most exhausting nights and very peevish wakenings. +However, this shall be remedied, and last night I was distinctly better +than the night before. There is, my dear Mr. Stevenson (so I moralise +blandly as we sit together on the devil's garden-wall), no more +abominable sin than this gloom, this plaguy peevishness; why (say I) +what matters it if we be a little uncomfortable--that is no reason for +mangling our unhappy wives. And then I turn and _girn_ on the +unfortunate Cassandra.--Your fellow culprit, + + R. L. S. + + + + +TO THOMAS STEVENSON + + + Mr. Stevenson, the elder, had read the play of _Admiral Guinea_, + written in September by his son and Mr. Henley in collaboration, and + had protested, with his usual vehemence of feeling and expression, + against the stage confrontation of profane blackguardry in the person + of Pew with evangelical piety in that of the reformed slaving captain + who gives his name to the piece. + + _Bonallie Towers, Branksome Park, Bournemouth (The three B's) + [November 5, 1884]._ + +MY DEAR FATHER,--Allow me to say, in a strictly Pickwickian sense, that +you are a silly fellow. I am pained indeed, but how should I be +offended? I think you exaggerate; I cannot forget that you had the same +impression of the _Deacon_; and yet, when you saw it played, were less +revolted than you looked for; and I will still hope that the _Admiral_ +also is not so bad as you suppose. There is one point, however, where I +differ from you very frankly. Religion is in the world; I do not think +you are the man to deny the importance of its role; and I have long +decided not to leave it on one side in art. The opposition of the +Admiral and Mr. Pew is not, to my eyes, either horrible or irreverent; +but it may be, and it probably is, very ill done: what then? This is a +failure; better luck next time; more power to the elbow, more +discretion, more wisdom in the design, and the old defeat becomes the +scene of the new victory. Concern yourself about no failure; they do not +cost lives as in engineering; they are the _pierres perdues_ of +successes. Fame is (truly) a vapour; do not think of it; if the writer +means well and tries hard, no failure will injure him, whether with God +or man. + +I wish I could hear a brighter account of yourself; but I am inclined to +acquit the _Admiral_ of having a share in the responsibility. My very +heavy cold is, I hope, drawing off; and the change to this charming +house in the forest will, I hope, complete my re-establishment.--With +love to all, believe me, your ever affectionate + + ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. + + + + +TO W. E. HENLEY + + + _Bonallie Towers, Bournemouth, November 11, 1884._ + +DEAR BOY,--I have been nearly smashed altogether; fever and chills, with +really very considerable suffering; and to my deep gloom and some fear +about the future, work has had to stop. There was no way out of it; +yesterday and to-day nothing would come, it was a mere waste of tissue, +productive of spoiled paper. + +I hope it will not last long; for the bum-baily is panting at my rump, +and when I turn a scared eye across my shoulder, I behold his talons +quivering above my frock-coat tails. + +Gosse has writ to offer me L40 for a Christmas number ghost story for +the Pall Mall: eight thousand words. I have, with some conditions, +accepted; I pray Heaven I may be able to do it. But I am not sure that +my incapacity to work is wholly due to illness; I believe the morphine +I have been taking for my bray may have a hand in it. It moderates the +bray, but, I think, sews up the donkey. + +I think my wife is a little better. If only I could get in trim, and get +this work done, I should be quite chipper. + + R. L. S. + + + + +TO CHARLES BAXTER + + + The two next letters, on the same subject, are written in the styles + and characters of the two Edinburgh ex-elders, Johnstone (or Johnson) + and Thomson alternately. + + _Bonallie Towers, Branksome Park, Bournemouth, November 11 [1884]._ + +MY DEAR CHARLES,--I am in my new house, thus proudly styled, as you +perceive; but the deevil a tower ava' can be perceived (except out of +window); this is not as it should be; one might have hoped, at least, a +turret. We are all vilely unwell. I put in the dark watches imitating a +donkey with some success, but little pleasure; and in the afternoon I +indulge in a smart fever, accompanied by aches and shivers. There is +thus little monotony to be deplored. I at least am a _regular_ invalid; +I would scorn to bray in the afternoon; I would indignantly refuse the +proposal to fever in the night. What is bred in the bone will come out, +sir, in the flesh; and the same spirit that prompted me to date my +letter regulates the hour and character of my attacks.--I am, sir, +yours, + + THOMSON. + + + + +TO MISS FERRIER + + + The controversy here mentioned had been one in which Mr. Samuel + Smiles and others had taken part, concerning the rival claims of + Robert Stevenson, the grandfather of R. L. S., and John Rennie to + have been the chief engineers of the Bell Rock Lighthouse (see _A + Family of Engineers_, chap. iii.). + + _Bonallie Towers, Bournemouth, Nov. 12, 1884._ + +MY DEAR COGGIE,--Many thanks for the two photos which now decorate my +room. I was particularly glad to have the Bell Rock. I wonder if you +saw me plunge, lance in rest, into a controversy thereanent? It was a +very one-sided affair. The man I attacked cried "Boo-hoo!" and referred +me to his big brother. And the big brother refused to move. So I slept +upon the field of battle, paraded, sang Te Deum, and came home after a +review rather than a campaign. + +Please tell Campbell I got his letter. The Wild Woman of the West has +been much amiss and complaining sorely. I hope nothing more serious is +wrong with her than just my ill-health, and consequent anxiety and +labour; but the deuce of it is, that the cause continues. I am about +knocked out of time now: a miserable, snuffling, shivering, +fever-stricken, nightmare-ridden, knee-jottering, hoast-hoast-hoasting +shadow and remains of man. But we'll no gie ower jist yet a bittie. +We've seen waur; and dod, mem, it's my belief that we'll see better. I +dinna ken 'at I've muckle mair to say to ye, or, indeed, onything; but +jist here's guid-fallowship, guid health, and the wale o' guid fortune +to your bonny sel'; and my respecs to the Perfessor and his wife, and +the Prinshiple, an' the Bell Rock, an' ony ither public chara'ters that +I'm acquaunt wi'. + + R. L. S. + + + + +TO CHARLES BAXTER + + + [_Bournemouth, November 13, 1884._] + +MY DEAR THOMSON,--It's a maist remarkable fac', but nae shuener had I +written yon braggin', blawin' letter aboot ma business habits, when +bang! that very day, ma hoast[10] begude in the aifternune. It is really +remaurkable; it's providenshle, I believe. The ink wasnae fair dry, the +words werenae weel ooten ma mouth, when bang, I got the lee. The mair ye +think o't, Thomson, the less ye'll like the looks o't. Proavidence (I'm +no' sayin') is all verra weel _in its place_; but if Proavidence has +nae mainners, wha's to learn't? Proavidence is a fine thing, but hoo +would you like Proavidence to keep your till for ye? The richt place for +Proavidence is in the kirk; it has naething to do wi' private +correspondence between twa gentlemen, nor freendly cracks, nor a wee bit +word of sculduddery[11] ahint the door, nor, in shoart, wi' ony +_hole-and-corner wark_, what I would call. I'm pairfec'ly willin' to +meet in wi' Proavidence, I'll be prood to meet in wi' him, when my +time's come and I cannae dae nae better; but if he's to come skulking +aboot my stair-fit, damned, I micht as weel be deid for a' the comfort +I'll can get in life. Cannae he no be made to understand that it's +beneath him? Gosh, if I was in his business, I wouldnae steir my heid +for a plain, auld ex-elder that, tak him the way he taks himsel', 's +just aboot as honest as he can weel afford, an' but for a wheen auld +scandals, near forgotten noo, is a pairfec'ly respectable and thoroughly +decent man. Or if I fashed wi' him ava', it wad be kind o' handsome +like; a pun'-note under his stair door, or a bottle o' auld, blended +malt to his bit marnin', as a teshtymonial like yon ye ken sae weel +aboot, but mair successfu'. + +Dear Thomson, have I ony money? If I have, _send it_, for the loard's +sake. + + JOHNSTONE. + + + + +TO W. E. HENLEY + + + _Bonallie Towers, Bournemouth, Nov. 13, 1884._ + +MY DEAR BOY,--A thousand thanks for the _Moliere_. I have already read, +in this noble presentment, _La Comtesse d'Escarbaguas_, _Le Malade +Imaginaire_, and a part of _Les Femmes Savantes_; I say, Poquelin took +damned good care of himself: Argan and Arysule, what parts! Many thanks +also for John Silver's pistol; I recognise it; that was the one he gave +Jim Hawkins at the mouth of the pit; I shall get a plate put upon it to +that effect. + +My birthday was a great success; I was better in health; I got +delightful presents; I received the definite commission from the P.M.G., +and began to write the tale; and in the evening Bob arrived, a simple +seraph. We have known each other ten years; and here we are, too, like +the pair that met in the infirmary: why can we not mellow into kindness +and sweetness like Bob? What is the reason? Does nature, even in my +octogenarian carcase, run too strong that I must be still a bawler and a +brawler and a treader upon corns? You, at least, have achieved the +miracle of embellishing your personal appearance to that point that, +unless your mother is a woman of even more perspicacity than I suppose, +it is morally impossible that she can recognise you. When I saw you ten +years ago, you looked rough and--kind of stigmatised, a look of an +embittered political shoemaker; where is it now? You now come waltzing +around like some light-hearted monarch; essentially jovial, essentially +royal; radiant of smiles. And in the meanwhile, by a complementary +process, I turn into a kind of hunchback with white hair! The devil. + +Well, let us be thankful for our mercies; in these ten years what a +change from the cell in the hospital, and the two sick boys in the next +bed, to the influence, the recognition, the liberty, and the happiness +of to-day! Well, well; fortune is not so blind as people say; you dreed +a good long weird; but you have got into a fine green paddock now to +kick your heels in. And I, too, what a difference; what a difference in +my work, in my situation, and unfortunately, also in my health! But one +need not complain of a pebble in the shoe, when by mere justice one +should rot in a dungeon. + +Many thanks to both of you; long life to our friendship, and that means, +I do most firmly believe, to these clay continents on which we fly our +colours; good luck to one and all, and may God continue to be +merciful.--Your old and warm friend, + + R. L. S. + + + + +TO EDMUND GOSSE + + + Stevenson had been unable to finish for the Pall Mall Christmas + number the tale he had first intended; had tried the publishers with + _Markheim_ (afterwards printed in the collection called _Merry Men_), + which proved too short; had then furbished up as well as he could a + tale drafted in the Pitlochry days, _The Body Snatcher_, which was + advertised in the streets of London by sandwich-men carrying posters + so horrific that they were suppressed, if I remember right, by the + police. Stevenson rightly thought the tale not up to his best mark, + and would not take the full payment which had been bargained for. His + correspondent was just about to start on a tour to the United States. + + _Bonallie Towers, Bournemouth, Nov. 15, 1884._ + +MY DEAR GOSSE,--This Mr. Morley[12] of yours is a most desperate fellow. +He has sent me (for my opinion) the most truculent advertisement I ever +saw, in which the white hairs of Gladstone are dragged round Troy behind +my chariot wheels. What can I say? I say nothing to him; and to you, I +content myself with remarking that he seems a desperate fellow. + +All luck to you on your American adventure; may you find health, wealth, +and entertainment! If you see, as you likely will, Frank R. Stockton, +pray greet him from me in words to this effect:-- + + My Stockton if I failed to like, + It were a sheer depravity, + For I went down with the _Thomas Hyke_ + And up with the _Negative Gravity_! + +I adore these tales. + +I hear flourishing accounts of your success at Cambridge, so you leave +with a good omen. Remember me to _green corn_ if it is in season; if +not, you had better hang yourself on a sour apple tree, for your voyage +has been lost.--Yours affectionately, + + ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. + + + + +TO AUSTIN DOBSON + + + Written in acknowledgment of the gift of a desk. + + _Bonallie Towers, Bournemouth [December 1884 ?]._ + +DEAR DOBSON,--Set down my delay to your own fault; I wished to +acknowledge such a gift from you in some of my inapt and slovenly +rhymes; but you should have sent me your pen and not your desk. The +verses stand up to the axles in a miry cross-road, whence the coursers +of the sun shall never draw them; hence I am constrained to this +uncourtliness, that I must appear before one of the kings of that +country of rhyme without my singing robes. For less than this, if we may +trust the book of Esther, favourites have tasted death; but I conceive +the kingdom of the Muses mildlier mannered; and in particular that +county which you administer and which I seem to see as a half-suburban +land; a land of hollyhocks and country houses; a land where at night, in +thorny and sequestered bypaths, you will meet masqueraders going to a +ball in their sedans, and the rector steering homeward by the light of +his lantern; a land of the windmill, and the west wind, and the +flowering hawthorn with a little scented letter in the hollow of its +trunk, and the kites flying over all in the season of kites, and the far +away blue spires of a cathedral city. + +Will you forgive me, then, for my delay and accept my thanks not only +for your present, but for the letter which followed it, and which +perhaps I more particularly value, and believe me to be, with much +admiration, yours very truly, + + ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. + + + + +TO W. E. HENLEY + + + Stevenson and his wife were still busy on _More New Arabian Nights_ + (the romance of the _Great North Road_ having been begun and + postponed). The question here touched is, to what publishers should + they be offered. + + _Bonallie Towers, Bournemouth, December 1884._ + +DEAR LAD,--For Cassell, I thought the G.N.R. (not railway this time) was +the motto. What are Cassells to do with this eccentric mass of blague +and seriousness? Their poor auld pows will a' turn white as snaw, man. +They would skriegh with horror. You see, the lot of tales is now coming +to a kind of bearing. They are being quite rehandled; all the three +intercalary narratives have been condemned and are being replaced--two +by picturesque and highly romantic adventures; one by a comic tale of +character; and the thing as it goes together so far, is, I do think, +singularly varied and vivid, coming near to laughter and touching tears. + +Will Cassell stand it? No. + +_Et de deux._ + +I vote for the syndicate, and to give Cassell the _North Road_ when +done. _Et sic subscr._ + + R. L. S. + + +My health is better. I never sleep, to be sure; Cawdor hath butchered +sleep; and I am twinged a bit by aches and rheumatism; but I get my five +to seven hours of work; and if that is not health, it is the nearest I +am like to have. + + + + +TO HENRY JAMES + + + The following to Mr. Henry James refers to the essay of R. L. S. + called _A Humble Remonstrance_, which had just appeared in Longman's + Magazine. Mr. James had written holding out the prospect of a + continuance of the friendly controversy which had thus been opened up + between them on the aims and qualities of fiction. + + _Bonallie Towers, Branksome Park, Bournemouth, December 8, 1884._ + +MY DEAR HENRY JAMES,--This is a very brave hearing from more points +than one. The first point is that there is a hope of a sequel. For this +I laboured. Seriously, from the dearth of information and thoughtful +interest in the art of literature, those who try to practise it with any +deliberate purpose run the risk of finding no fit audience. People +suppose it is "the stuff" that interests them; they think, for instance, +that the prodigious fine thoughts and sentiments in Shakespeare impress +by their own weight, not understanding that the unpolished diamond is +but a stone. They think that striking situations, or good dialogue, are +got by studying life; they will not rise to understand that they are +prepared by deliberate artifice and set off by painful suppressions. +Now, I want the whole thing well ventilated, for my own education and +the public's; and I beg you to look as quick as you can, to follow me up +with every circumstance of defeat where we differ, and (to prevent the +flouting of the laity) to emphasise the points where we agree. I trust +your paper will show me the way to a rejoinder; and that rejoinder I +shall hope to make with so much art as to woo or drive you from your +threatened silence. I would not ask better than to pass my life in +beating out this quarter of corn with such a seconder as yourself. + +Point the second--I am rejoiced indeed to hear you speak so kindly of my +work; rejoiced and surprised. I seem to myself a very rude, left-handed +countryman; not fit to be read, far less complimented, by a man so +accomplished, so adroit, so craftsmanlike as you. You will happily never +have cause to understand the despair with which a writer like myself +considers (say) the park scene in _Lady Barberina_. Every touch +surprises me by its intangible precision; and the effect when done, as +light as syllabub, as distinct as a picture, fills me with envy. Each +man among us prefers his own aim, and I prefer mine; but when we come to +speak of performance, I recognise myself, compared with you, to be a +lout and slouch of the first water. + +Where we differ, both as to the design of stories and the delineation of +character, I begin to lament. Of course, I am not so dull as to ask you +to desert your walk; but could you not, in one novel, to oblige a +sincere admirer, and to enrich his shelves with a beloved volume, could +you not, and might you not, cast your characters in a mould a little +more abstract and academic (dear Mrs. Pennyman had already, among your +other work, a taste of what I mean), and pitch the incidents, I do not +say in any stronger, but in a slightly more emphatic key--as it were an +episode from one of the old (so-called) novels of adventure? I fear you +will not; and I suppose I must sighingly admit you to be right. And yet, +when I see, as it were, a book of Tom Jones handled with your exquisite +precision and shot through with those side-lights of reflection in which +you excel, I relinquish the dear vision with regret. Think upon it. + +As you know, I belong to that besotted class of man, the invalid: this +puts me to a stand in the way of visits. But it is possible that some +day you may feel that a day near the sea and among pinewoods would be a +pleasant change from town. If so, please let us know; and my wife and I +will be delighted to put you up, and give you what we can to eat and +drink (I have a fair bottle of claret).--On the back of which, believe +me, yours sincerely, + + ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. + + +_P.S._--I reopen this to say that I have re-read my paper, and cannot +think I have at all succeeded in being either veracious or polite. I +knew, of course, that I took your paper merely as a pin to hang my own +remarks upon; but, alas! what a thing is any paper! What fine remarks +can you not hang on mine! How I have sinned against proportion, and with +every effort to the contrary, against the merest rudiments of courtesy +to you! You are indeed a very acute reader to have divined the real +attitude of my mind; and I can only conclude, not without closed eyes +and shrinking shoulders, in the well-worn words, + + Lay on, Macduff! + + + + +TO MR. AND MRS. THOMAS STEVENSON + + + _Bonallie Towers, Bournemouth, December 9, 1884._ + +MY DEAR PEOPLE,--The dreadful tragedy of the Pall Mall has come to a +happy but ludicrous ending: I am to keep the money, the tale writ for +them is to be buried certain fathoms deep, and they are to flash out +before the world with our old friend of Kinnaird, _The Body Snatcher_. +When you come, please to bring-- + + (1) My Montaigne, or, at least, the two last volumes. + + (2) My Milton in the three vols. in green. + + (3) The Shakespeare that Babington sent me for a wedding-gift. + + (4) Hazlitt's _Table Talk and Plain Speaker_. + +If you care to get a box of books from Douglas and Foulis, let them be +_solid_. _Croker Papers_, _Correspondence of Napoleon_, _History of +Henry IV._, Lang's _Folk Lore_, would be my desires. + +I had a charming letter from Henry James about my Longman paper. I did +not understand queries about the verses; the pictures to the Seagull I +thought charming; those to the second have left me with a pain in my +poor belly and a swimming in the head. + +About money, I am afloat and no more, and I warn you, unless I have +great luck, I shall have to fall upon you at the New Year like a +hundredweight of bricks. Doctor, rent, chemist, are all threatening; +sickness has bitterly delayed my work; and unless, as I say, I have the +mischief's luck, I shall completely break down. _Verbum sapientibus._ I +do not live cheaply, and I question if I ever shall; but if only I had a +halfpenny worth of health, I could now easily suffice. The last +breakdown of my head is what makes this bankruptcy probable. + +Fanny is still out of sorts; Bogue better; self fair, but a stranger to +the blessings of sleep.--Ever affectionate son, + + R. L. S. + + + + +TO W. E. HENLEY + + + _Bonallie Towers, Bournemouth [December 1884]._ + +DEAR LAD,--I have made up my mind about the P. M. G., and send you a +copy, which please keep or return. As for not giving a reduction, what +are we? Are we artists or city men? Why do we sneer at stockbrokers? O +nary; I will not take the L40. I took that as a fair price for my best +work; I was not able to produce my best; and I will be damned if I steal +with my eyes open. _Sufficit._ This is my lookout. As for the paper +being rich, certainly it is; but I am honourable. It is no more above me +in money than the poor slaveys and cads from whom I look for honesty are +below me. Am I Pepys, that because I can find the countenance of "some +of our ablest merchants," that because--and--pour forth languid twaddle +and get paid for it, I, too, should "cheerfully continue to steal"? I am +not Pepys. I do not live much to God and honour; but I will not wilfully +turn my back on both. I am, like all the rest of us, falling ever lower +from the bright ideas I began with, falling into greed, into idleness, +into middle-aged and slippered fireside cowardice; but is it you, my +bold blade, that I hear crying this sordid and rank twaddle in my ear? +Preaching the dankest Grundyism and upholding the rank customs of our +trade--you who are so cruel hard upon the customs of the publishers? O +man, look at the Beam in our own Eyes; and whatever else you do, do not +plead Satan's cause, or plead it for all; either embrace the bad, or +respect the good when you see a poor devil trying for it. If this is the +honesty of authors--to take what you can get and console yourself +because publishers are rich--take my name from the rolls of that +association. 'Tis a caucus of weaker thieves, jealous of the +stronger.--Ever yours, + + THE ROARING R. L. S. + + +You will see from the enclosed that I have stuck to what I think my dues +pretty tightly in spite of this flourish: these are my words for a poor +ten-pound note! + + + + +TO MISS FERRIER + + + This refers to the death of Sir Alexander Grant, the distinguished + Aristotelian scholar and Principal of Edinburgh University. + + [_Bonallie Towers, Bournemouth, Dec. 1884._] + +MY DEAR COGGIE,--We are very much distressed to hear of this which has +befallen your family. As for Sir Alexander, I can but speak from my own +feelings: he survived to finish his book and to conduct, with such a +great success, the tercentenary. Ah, how many die just upon the +threshold! Had he died a year ago, how great a disappointment! But all +this is nothing to the survivors. Do please, as soon as you are able, +let us know how it goes and _how it is likely to go_ with the family; +and believe that both my wife and I are most anxious to have good news, +or the best possible. My poor Coggie, I know very well how you must +feel; you are passing a bad time. + +Our news must seem very impertinent. We have both been ill; I, pretty +bad, my wife, pretty well down; but I, at least, am better. The Bogue, +who is let out every night for half an hour's yapping, is anchored in +the moonlight just before the door, and, under the belief that he is +watchdog at a lone farm beleaguered by moss-troopers, is simply raising +Cain. + +I can add nothing more, but just that we wish to hear as soon as you +have nothing else to do--not to hurry, of course,--if it takes three +months, no matter--but bear us in mind. + + R. L. S. + + + + +TO W. E. HENLEY + + + _Bonallie Towers, Bournemouth [Winter 1884]._ + +MY DEAR LAD,--Here was I in bed; not writing, not hearing, and finding +myself gently and agreeably ill used; and behold I learn you are bad +yourself. Get your wife to send us a word how you are. I am better +decidedly. Bogue got his Christmas card, and behaved well for three days +after. It may interest the cynical to learn that I started my last +hemorrhage by too sedulous attentions to my dear Bogue. The stick was +broken; and that night Bogue, who was attracted by the extraordinary +aching of his bones, and is always inclined to a serious view of his own +ailments, announced with his customary pomp that he was dying. In this +case, however, it was not the dog that died. (He had tried to bite his +mother's ankles.) I have written a long and peculiarly solemn paper on +the technical elements of style. It is path-breaking and epoch-making; +but I do not think the public will be readily convoked to its perusal. +Did I tell you that S. C. had risen to the paper on James? At last! O +but I was pleased; he's (like Johnnie) been lang, lang o' comin', but +here he is. He will not object to my future manoeuvres in the same +field, as he has to my former. All the family are here; my father better +than I have seen him these two years; my mother the same as ever. I do +trust you are better, and I am yours ever, + + R. L. S. + + + + +TO H. A. JONES + + + _Bonallie Towers, Bournemouth, Dec. 30, 1884._ + +DEAR SIR,--I am so accustomed to hear nonsense spoken about all the +arts, and the drama in particular, that I cannot refrain from saying +"Thank you" for your paper. In my answer to Mr. James, in the December +Longman, you may see that I have merely touched, I think in a +parenthesis, on the drama; but I believe enough was said to indicate our +agreement in essentials. + +Wishing you power and health to further enunciate and to act upon these +principles, believe me, dear sir, yours truly, + + ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. + + + + +TO SIDNEY COLVIN + + + Stevenson had begun with great eagerness to prepare material for a + volume on the Duke of Wellington for the series of _English Worthies_ + published by Messrs. Longman and edited by Mr. Andrew Lang, but + beyond preparation the scheme never went. + + _Bonallie Towers, Bournemouth, Jan. 4, 1885._ + +DEAR S. C.,--I am on my feet again, and getting on my boots to do the +Iron Duke. Conceive my glee: I have refused the L100, and am to get some +sort of royalty, not yet decided, instead. 'Tis for Longman's _English +Worthies_, edited by A. Lang. Aw haw, haw! + +Now, look here, could you get me a loan of the Despatches, or is that a +dream? I should have to mark passages I fear, and certainly note pages +on the fly. If you think it a dream, will Bain get me a second-hand +copy, or who would? The sooner, and cheaper, I can get it the better. If +there is anything in your weird library that bears on either the man or +the period, put it in a mortar and fire it here instanter; I shall +catch. I shall want, of course, an infinity of books: among which, any +lives there may be; a life of the Marquis Marmont (the Marechal), +_Marmont's Memoirs_, _Greville's Memoirs_, _Peel's Memoirs_, _Napier_, +that blind man's history of England you once lent me, Hamley's +_Waterloo_; can you get me any of these? Thiers, idle Thiers also. Can +you help a man getting into his boots for such a huge campaign? How are +you? A Good New Year to you. I mean to have a good one, but on whose +funds I cannot fancy: not mine leastways, as I am a mere derelict and +drift beam-on to bankruptcy. + +For God's sake, remember the man who set out for to conquer Arthur +Wellesley, with a broken bellows and an empty pocket.--Yours ever, + + R. L. STEVENSON. + + + + +TO THOMAS STEVENSON + + + Stevenson had been asked by his father to look over the proofs of a + paper which the latter was about to read, as President of the Royal + Society of Edinburgh, "On the Principal Causes of Silting in + Estuaries," in connection with the Manchester Ship Canal Scheme. + + _Bonallie Towers, Bournemouth, 14th January 1885._ + +MY DEAR FATHER,--I am glad you like the changes. I own I was pleased +with my hand's darg; you may observe, I have corrected several errors +which (you may tell Mr. Dick) he had allowed to pass his eagle eye; I +wish there may be none in mine; at least, the order is better. The +second title, "Some New Engineering Questions involved in the M. S. C. +Scheme of last Session of P.," likes me the best. I think it a very good +paper; and I am vain enough to think I have materially helped to polish +the diamond. I ended by feeling quite proud of the paper, as if it had +been mine; the next time you have as good a one, I will overhaul it for +the wages of feeling as clever as I did when I had managed to understand +and helped to set it clear. I wonder if I anywhere misapprehended you? I +rather think not at the last; at the first shot I know I missed a point +or two. Some of what may appear to you to be wanton changes, a little +study will show to be necessary. + +Yes, Carlyle was ashamed of himself as few men have been; and let all +carpers look at what he did. He prepared all these papers for +publication with his own hand; all his wife's complaints, all the +evidence of his own misconduct: who else would have done so much? Is +repentance, which God accepts, to have no avail with men? nor even with +the dead? I have heard too much against the thrawn, discomfortable dog: +dead he is, and we may be glad of it; but he was a better man than most +of us, no less patently than he was a worse. To fill the world with +whining is against all my views: I do not like impiety. But--but--there +are two sides to all things, and the old scalded baby had his noble +side.--Ever affectionate son, + + R. L. S. + + + + +TO SIDNEY COLVIN + + + _Bonallie Towers, Bournemouth, January 1885._ + +DEAR S. C.,--I have addressed a letter to the G. O. M. _a propos_ of +Wellington; and I became aware, you will be interested to hear, of an +overwhelming respect for the old gentleman. I can _blaguer_ his +failures; but when you actually address him, and bring the two statures +and records to confrontation, dismay is the result. By mere continuance +of years, he must impose; the man who helped to rule England before I +was conceived, strikes me with a new sense of greatness and antiquity, +when I must actually beard him with the cold forms of correspondence. I +shied at the necessity of calling him plain "Sir"! Had he been "My +lord," I had been happier; no, I am no equalitarian. Honour to whom +honour is due; and if to none, why, then, honour to the old! + +These, O Slade Professor, are my unvarnished sentiments: I was a little +surprised to find them so extreme, and therefore I communicate the fact. + +Belabour thy brains, as to whom it would be well to question. I have a +small space; I wish to make a popular book, nowhere obscure, nowhere, if +it can be helped, unhuman. It seems to me the most hopeful plan to tell +the tale, so far as may be, by anecdote. He did not die till so +recently, there must be hundreds who remember him, and thousands who +have still ungarnered stories. Dear man, to the breach! Up, soldier of +the iron dook, up, Slades, and at 'em! (which, conclusively, he did not +say: the at 'em-ic theory is to be dismissed). You know piles of fellows +who must reek with matter; help! help! I am going to try +Happy-and-Glorious-long-to-reign-over-us. H.M. must remember things: and +it is my belief, if my letter could be discreetly introduced, she would +like to tell them. So I jest, when I don't address my mind to it: when I +do, shall I be smit louting to my knee, as before the G. O. M.? +Probleme!--Yours ever, + + R. L. S. + + + + +TO SIDNEY COLVIN + + + In the two following letters are expressed some of the distress and + bitterness with which, in common with most Englishmen, Stevenson felt + the circumstances of Gordon's abandonment in the Soudan and the + failure of the belated attempt to rescue him. The advice to go on + with "my book" refers, if I remember right, to some scheme for the + republication in book form of stray magazine papers of mine of a more + or less personal or biographical nature. + + _Bonallie Towers, Bournemouth, February 1885._ + +MY DEAR COLVIN,--You are indeed a backward correspondent, and much may +be said against you. But in this weather, and O dear! in this political +scene of degradation, much must be forgiven. I fear England is dead of +Burgessry, and only walks about galvanised. I do not love to think of my +countrymen these days; nor to remember myself. Why was I silent? I feel +I have no right to blame any one; but I won't write to the G. O. M. I do +really not see my way to any form of signature, unless "your fellow +criminal in the eyes of God," which might disquiet the proprieties. + +About your book, I have always said: go on. The drawing of character is +a different thing from publishing the details of a private career. No +one objects to the first, or should object, if his name be not put upon +it; at the other, I draw the line. In a preface, if you chose, you might +distinguish; it is, besides, a thing for which you are eminently well +equipped, and which you would do with taste and incision. I long to see +the book. People like themselves (to explain a little more); no one +likes his life, which is a misbegotten issue, and a tale of failure. To +see these failures either touched upon, or _coasted_, to get the idea of +a spying eye and blabbing tongue about the house, is to lose all privacy +in life. To see that thing, which we do love, our character, set forth, +is ever gratifying. See how my _Talk and Talkers_ went; every one liked +his own portrait, and shrieked about other people's; so it will be with +yours. If you are the least true to the essential, the sitter will be +pleased; very likely not his friends, and that from _various motives_. + + R. L. S. + + +When will your holiday be? I sent your letter to my wife, and forget. +Keep us in mind, and I hope we shall be able to receive you. + + + + +TO J. A. SYMONDS + + + _Bonallie Towers, Bournemouth, February 1885._ + +MY DEAR SYMONDS,--Yes we have both been very neglectful. I had horrid +luck, catching two thundering influenzas in August and November. I +recovered from the last with difficulty, but have come through this +blustering winter with some general success; in the house, up and down. +My wife, however, has been painfully upset by my health. Last year, of +course, was cruelly trying to her nerves; Nice and Hyeres are bad +experiences; and though she is not ill, the doctor tells me that +prolonged anxiety may do her a real mischief. + +I feel a little old and fagged, and chary of speech, and not very sure +of spirit in my work; but considering what a year I have passed, and how +I have twice sat on Charon's pierhead, I am surprising. + +My father has presented us with a very pretty home in this place, into +which we hope to move by May. My _Child's Verses_ come out next week. +_Otto_ begins to appear in April; _More New Arabian Nights_ as soon as +possible. Moreover, I am neck deep in Wellington; also a story on the +stocks, _The Great North Road_. O, I am busy! Lloyd is at college in +Edinburgh. That is, I think, all that can be said by way of news. + +Have you read _Huckleberry Finn_? It contains many excellent things; +above all, the whole story of a healthy boy's dealings with his +conscience, incredibly well done. + +My own conscience is badly seared; a want of piety; yet I pray for it, +tacitly, every day; believing it, after courage, the only gift worth +having; and its want, in a man of any claims to honour, quite +unpardonable. The tone of your letter seemed to me very sound. In these +dark days of public dishonour, I do not know that one can do better than +carry our private trials piously. What a picture is this of a nation! No +man that I can see, on any side or party, seems to have the least sense +of our ineffable shame: the desertion of the garrisons. I tell my little +parable that Germany took England, and then there was an Indian Mutiny, +and Bismarck said: "Quite right: let Delhi and Calcutta and Bombay fall; +and let the women and children be treated Sepoy fashion," and people +say, "O, but that is very different!" And then I wish I were dead. +Millais (I hear) was painting Gladstone when the news came of Gordon's +death; Millais was much affected, and Gladstone said, "Why? _It is the +man's own temerity!_" Voila le Bourgeois! le voila nu! But why should I +blame Gladstone, when I too am a Bourgeois? when I have held my peace? +Why did I hold my peace? Because I am a sceptic: _i.e._ a Bourgeois. We +believe in nothing, Symonds; you don't, and I don't; and these are two +reasons, out of a handful of millions, why England stands before the +world dripping with blood and daubed with dishonour. I will first try to +take the beam out of my own eye, trusting that even private effort +somehow betters and braces the general atmosphere. See, for example, if +England has shown (I put it hypothetically) one spark of manly +sensibility, they have been shamed into it by the spectacle of Gordon. +Police-Officer Cole is the only man that I see to admire. I dedicate my +_New Arabs_ to him and Cox, in default of other great public +characters.--Yours ever most affectionately, + + ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. + + + + +TO EDMUND GOSSE + + + The following refers to an edition of Gray, with notes and a short + prefatory Life by Mr. Gosse; and to the publication of the _Child's + Garden of Verses_. + + _Bonallie Towers, Bournemouth, March 12, 1885._ + +MY DEAR GOSSE,--I was indeed much exercised how I could be worked into +Gray; and lo! when I saw it, the passage seemed to have been written +with a single eye to elucidate the--worst?--well, not a very good poem +of Gray's. Your little life is excellent, clean, neat, efficient. I have +read many of your notes, too, with pleasure. Your connection with Gray +was a happy circumstance; it was a suitable conjunction. + +I did not answer your letter from the States, for what was I to say? I +liked getting it and reading it; I was rather flattered that you wrote +it to me; and then I'll tell you what I did--I put it in the fire. Why? +Well, just because it was very natural and expansive; and thinks I to +myself, if I die one of these fine nights, this is just the letter that +Gosse would not wish to go into the hands of third parties. Was I well +inspired? And I did not answer it because you were in your high places, +sailing with supreme dominion, and seeing life in a particular glory; +and I was peddling in a corner, confined to the house, overwhelmed with +necessary work, which I was not always doing well, and, in the very mild +form in which the disease approaches me, touched with a sort of bustling +cynicism. Why throw cold water? How ape your agreeable frame of mind? +In short, I held my tongue. + +I have now published on 101 small pages _The Complete Proof of Mr. R. L. +Stevenson's Incapacity to Write Verse_, in a series of graduated +examples with table of contents. I think I shall issue a companion +volume of exercises: "Analyse this poem. Collect and comminate the ugly +words. Distinguish and condemn the _chevilles_. State Mr. Stevenson's +faults of taste in regard to the measure. What reasons can you gather +from this example for your belief that Mr. S. is unable to write any +other measure?" + +They look ghastly in the cold light of print; but there is something +nice in the little ragged regiment for all; the blackguards seem to me +to smile, to have a kind of childish treble note that sounds in my ears +freshly; not song, if you will, but a child's voice. + +I was glad you enjoyed your visit to the States. Most Englishmen go +there with a confirmed design of patronage, as they go to France for +that matter; and patronage will not pay. Besides, in this year +of--grace, said I?--of disgrace, who should creep so low as an +Englishman? "It is not to be thought of that the flood"--ah, Wordsworth, +you would change your note were you alive to-day! + +I am now a beastly householder, but have not yet entered on my domain. +When I do, the social revolution will probably cast me back upon my dung +heap. There is a person called Hyndman whose eye is on me; his step is +beHynd me as I go. I shall call my house Skerryvore when I get it: +SKERRYVORE: _c'est bon pour la poeshie_. I will conclude with my +favourite sentiment: "The world is too much with me." + + ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON, + _The Hermit of Skerryvore_, + + +Author of "John Vane Tempest: a Romance," "Herbert and Henrietta: or the +Nemesis of Sentiment," "The Life and Adventures of Colonel Bludyer +Fortescue," "Happy Homes and Hairy Faces," "A Pound of Feathers and a +Pound of Lead," part author of "Minn's Complete Capricious +Correspondent: a Manual of Natty, Natural, and Knowing Letters," and +editor of the "Poetical Remains of Samuel Burt Crabbe, known as the +melodious Bottle-Holder." + + Uniform with the above: + +"The Life and Remains of the Reverend Jacob Degray Squah," author of +"Heave-yo for the New Jerusalem," "A Box of Candles; or the Patent +Spiritual Safety Match," and "A Day with the Heavenly Harriers." + + + + +TO W. H. LOW + + + The "dedication" referred to was that of a forthcoming illustrated + edition of Keats's _Lamia_. + + _Bonallie Towers, Bournemouth, March 13, 1885._ + +MY DEAR LOW,--Your success has been immense. I wish your letter had come +two days ago: _Otto_, alas! has been disposed of a good while ago; but +it was only day before yesterday that I settled the new volume of Arabs. +However, for the future, you and the sons of the deified Scribner are +the men for me. Really they have behaved most handsomely. I cannot lay +my hand on the papers, or I would tell you exactly how it compares with +my English bargain; but it compares well. Ah, if we had that copyright, +I do believe it would go far to make me solvent, ill-health and all. + +I wrote you a letter to the Rembrandt, in which I stated my views about +the dedication in a very brief form. It will give me sincere pleasure, +and will make the second dedication I have received, the other being +from John Addington Symonds. It is a compliment I value much; I don't +know any that I should prefer. + +I am glad to hear you have windows to do; that is a fine business, I +think; but, alas! the glass is so bad nowadays; realism invading even +that, as well as the huge inferiority of our technical resource +corrupting every tint. Still, anything that keeps a man to decoration +is, in this age, good for the artist's spirit. + +By the way, have you seen James and me on the novel? James, I think in +the August or September--R. L. S. in the December Longman. I own I think +the _ecole bete_, of which I am the champion, has the whip hand of the +argument; but as James is to make a rejoinder, I must not boast. Anyway +the controversy is amusing to see. I was terribly tied down to space, +which has made the end congested and dull. I shall see if I can afford +to send you the April Contemporary--but I dare say you see it anyway--as +it will contain a paper of mine on style, a sort of continuation of old +arguments on art in which you have wagged a most effective tongue. It is +a sort of start upon my Treatise on the Art of Literature: a small, arid +book that shall some day appear. + +With every good wish from me and mine (should I not say "she and hers"?) +to you and yours, believe me yours ever, + + ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. + + + + +TO P.G. HAMERTON + + + The work of his correspondent's which R. L. S. notices in the + following is the sumptuous volume _Landscape_: Seeley & Co., 1885. + The passages specially referred to will be found pp. 46-62 of that + work. + + _Bournemouth, March 16, 1885._ + +MY DEAR HAMERTON,--Various things have been reminding me of my +misconduct: First, Swan's application for your address; second, a sight +of the sheets of your _Landscape_ book; and last, your note to Swan, +which he was so kind as to forward. I trust you will never suppose me +to be guilty of anything more serious than an idleness, partially +excusable. My ill-health makes my rate of life heavier than I can well +meet, and yet stops me from earning more. My conscience, sometimes +perhaps too easily stifled, but still (for my time of life and the +public manners of the age) fairly well alive, forces me to perpetual and +almost endless transcriptions. On the back of all this, my +correspondence hangs like a thundercloud; and just when I think I am +getting through my troubles, crack, down goes my health, I have a long, +costly sickness, and begin the world again. It is fortunate for me I +have a father, or I should long ago have died; but the opportunity of +the aid makes the necessity none the more welcome. My father has +presented me with a beautiful house here--or so I believe, for I have +not yet seen it, being a cage bird but for nocturnal sorties in the +garden. I hope we shall soon move into it, and I tell myself that some +day perhaps we may have the pleasure of seeing you as our guest. I trust +at least that you will take me as I am, a thoroughly bad correspondent, +and a man, a hater, indeed, of rudeness in others, but too often rude in +all unconsciousness himself; and that you will never cease to believe +the sincere sympathy and admiration that I feel for you and for your +work. + +About the _Landscape_, which I had a glimpse of while a friend of mine +was preparing a review, I was greatly interested, and could write and +wrangle for a year on every page; one passage particularly delighted me, +the part about Ulysses--jolly. Then, you know, that is just what I fear +I have come to think landscape ought to be in literature; so there we +should be at odds. Or perhaps not so much as I suppose, as Montaigne +says it is a pot with two handles, and I own I am wedded to the +technical handle, which (I likewise own and freely) you do well to keep +for a mistress. I should much like to talk with you about some other +points; it is only in talk that one gets to understand. Your delightful +Wordsworth trap I have tried on two hardened Wordsworthians, not that I +am not one myself. By covering up the context, and asking them to guess +what the passage was, both (and both are very clever people, one a +writer, one a painter) pronounced it a guide-book. "Do you think it an +unusually good guide-book?" I asked, and both said, "No, not at all!" +Their grimace was a picture when I showed the original. + +I trust your health and that of Mrs. Hamerton keep better; your last +account was a poor one. I was unable to make out the visit I had hoped, +as (I do not know if you heard of it) I had a very violent and dangerous +hemorrhage last spring. I am almost glad to have seen death so close +with all my wits about me, and not in the customary lassitude and +disenchantment of disease. Even thus clearly beheld I find him not so +terrible as we suppose. But, indeed, with the passing of years, the +decay of strength, the loss of all my old active and pleasant habits, +there grows more and more upon me that belief in the kindness of this +scheme of things, and the goodness of our veiled God, which is an +excellent and pacifying compensation. I trust, if your health continues +to trouble you, you may find some of the same belief. But perhaps my +fine discovery is a piece of art, and belongs to a character cowardly, +intolerant of certain feelings, and apt to self-deception. I don't think +so, however; and when I feel what a weak and fallible vessel I was +thrust into this hurly-burly, and with what marvellous kindness the wind +has been tempered to my frailties, I think I should be a strange kind of +ass to feel anything but gratitude. + +I do not know why I should inflict this talk upon you; but when I summon +the rebellious pen, he must go his own way; I am no Michael Scott, to +rule the fiend of correspondence. Most days he will none of me; and when +he comes, it is to rape me where he will.--Yours very sincerely, + + ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. + + + + +TO W. E. HENLEY + + + Stevenson was by this time beginning to realise that work at + play-writing in collaboration with Mr. Henley was doing much more to + exhaust his strength than to replenish either of their purses, and + Mr. Henley, who had built hopes of fame and fortune on their + collaboration, was very unwilling to face the fact. + + [_Bournemouth, March 1885._] + +MY DEAR LAD,--That is all right, and a good job. About coming down, you +cannot get into us for a while, as you may imagine; we are in desperate +vortex, and everybody 'most dead. I have been two days in bed with liver +and slight bleeding. + +Do you think you are right to send _Macaire_ and the _Admiral_ about? +Not a copy have I sent, nor (speaking for myself personally) do I want +sent. The reperusal of the _Admiral_, by the way, was a sore blow; eh, +God, man, it is a low, black, dirty, blackguard, ragged piece: vomitable +in many parts--simply vomitable. Pew is in places a reproach to both art +and man. But of all that afterwards. What I mean is that I believe in +playing dark with second and third-rate work. Macaire is a piece of +job-work, hurriedly bockled; might have been worse, might have been +better; happy-go-lucky; act it or-let-it-rot piece of business. Not a +thing, I think, to send in presentations. Do not let us _gober_ +ourselves--and, above all, not _gober_ dam pot-boilers--and p.b.'s with +an obvious flaw and hole in them, such as is our unrealised Bertrand in +this one. But of this also, on a meeting. + +I am not yet done with my proofs, I am sorry to say; so soon as I am, I +must tackle _Kidnapped_ seriously, or be content to have no bread, which +you would scarcely recommend. It is all I shall be able to do to wait +for the Young Folk money, on which I'll have to live as best I can till +the book comes in. + +Plays at that rate I do not think I can possibly look at before July; so +let that be a guide to you in your views. July, or August, or +September, or thereabouts: these must be our times, whichever we attack. +I think you had better suspend a visit till we can take you in and till +I can speak. It seems a considerable waste of money; above all, as just +now I could not even offer you meals with my woman in such a state of +overwork. My father and mother have had to go to lodgings.--Post. + + R. L. S. + + + + +TO W. E. HENLEY + + + [_Bournemouth, March 1885._] + +DEAR LAD,--Much better, but rather unequal to do what I ought, a common +complaint. The change of weather much helped me, not too soon. + +I have thought as well as I could of what you said; and I come +unhesitatingly to the opinion that the stage is only a lottery, must not +be regarded as a trade, and must never be preferred to drudgery. If +money comes from any play, let us regard it as a legacy, but never count +upon it in our income for the year. In other words, I must go on and +drudge at _Kidnapped_, which I hate, and am unfit to do; and you will +have to get some journalism somehow. These are my cold and blighting +sentiments. It is bad enough to have to live by an art--but to think to +live by an art combined with commercial speculation--that way madness +lies. + +Time is our only friend. The _Admiral_, pulled simply in pieces and +about half deleted, will act some day: such is my opinion. I can no +more.--Yours ever, + + R. L. S. + + + + +TO WILLIAM ARCHER + + + An anonymous review of the _Child's Garden_, appearing in March, gave + R. L. S. so much pleasure that he wrote (in the four words, "Now who + are you?") to inquire the name of its writer, and learned that it + was Mr. Archer; with whom he had hitherto had no acquaintance. He + thereupon entered into friendly correspondence with his critic. + + _Bournemouth, March 29, 1885._ + +DEAR MR. ARCHER,--Yes, I have heard of you and read some of your work; +but I am bound in particular to thank you for the notice of my verses. +"There," I said, throwing it over to the friend who was staying with me, +"it's worth writing a book to draw an article like that." Had you been +as hard upon me as you were amiable, I try to tell myself I should have +been no blinder to the merits of your notice. For I saw there, to admire +and to be very grateful for, a most sober, agile pen; an enviable touch; +the marks of a reader, such as one imagines for one's self in dreams, +thoughtful, critical, and kind; and to put the top on this memorial +column, a greater readiness to describe the author criticised than to +display the talents of his censor. + +I am a man _blase_ to injudicious praise (though I hope some of it may +be judicious too), but I have to thank you for THE BEST CRITICISM I EVER +HAD; and am therefore, dear Mr. Archer, the most grateful critickee now +extant. + + ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. + + +_P.S._--I congratulate you on living in the corner of all London that I +like best. _A propos_, you are very right about my voluntary aversion +from the painful sides of life. My childhood was in reality a very mixed +experience, full of fever, nightmare, insomnia, painful days and +interminable nights; and I can speak with less authority of gardens than +of that other "land of counterpane." But to what end should we renew +these sorrows? The sufferings of life may be handled by the very +greatest in their hours of insight; it is of its pleasures that our +common poems should be formed; these are the experiences that we should +seek to recall or to provoke; and I say with Thoreau, "What right have I +to complain, who have not ceased to wonder?" and, to add a rider of my +own, who have no remedy to offer. + + R. L. S. + + + + +TO MR. AND MRS. JOSEPH PENNELL + + Acknowledging the dedication of an illustrated _Canterbury + Pilgrimage_. + + [_Skerryvore, Bournemouth, Summer 1885._] + +DEAR SIR AND MADAM,--This horrible delay must be forgiven me. It was not +caused by any want of gratitude; but by the desire to acknowledge the +dedication more suitably (and to display my wit) in a copy of verses. +Well, now I give that up, and tell you in plain prose, that you have +given me much pleasure by the dedication of your graceful book. + +As I was writing the above, I received a visit from Lady Shelley, who +mentioned to me that she was reading Mrs. Pennell's _Mary +Wollstonecraft_ with pleasure. It is odd how streams cross. Mr. +Pennell's work I have, of course, long known and admired: and I believe +there was once some talk, on the part of Mr. Gilder, that we should work +together; but the scheme fell through from my rapacity; and since then +has been finally rendered impossible (or so I fear) by my health. + +I should say that when I received the _Pilgrimage_, I was in a state +(not at all common with me) of depression; and the pleasant testimony +that my work had not all been in vain did much to set me up again. You +will therefore understand, late as is the hour, with what sincerity I am +able to sign myself--Gratefully yours, + + ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. + + +MR. AND MRS. PENNELL,--I see I should explain that this is all in my own +hand, I have not fobbed you off with an amanuensis; but as I have two +handwritings (both equally bad in these days) I might lead you to think +so. + + R. L. S. + + + + +TO MRS. FLEEMING JENKIN + + + On the death of Professor Fleeming Jenkin, who in Stevenson's early + student days at Edinburgh had been both the warmest and the wisest of + his elder friends (died June 12, 1885). + + [_Skerryvore, Bournemouth, June 1885._] + +MY DEAR MRS. JENKIN,--You know how much and for how long I have loved, +respected, and admired him; I am only able to feel a little with you. +But I know how he would have wished us to feel. I never knew a better +man, nor one to me more lovable; we shall all feel the loss more greatly +as time goes on. It scarce seems life to me; what must it be to you? Yet +one of the last things that he said to me was, that from all these sad +bereavements of yours he had learned only more than ever to feel the +goodness and what we, in our feebleness, call the support of God; he had +been ripening so much--to other eyes than ours, we must suppose he was +ripe, and try to feel it. I feel it is better not to say much more. It +will be to me a great pride to write a notice of him: the last I can now +do. What more in any way I can do for you, please to think and let me +know. For his sake and for your own, I would not be a useless friend: I +know, you know me a most warm one; please command me or my wife, in any +way. Do not trouble to write to me; Austin, I have no doubt, will do so, +if you are, as I fear you will be, unfit. + +My heart is sore for you. At least you know what you have been to him; +how he cherished and admired you; how he was never so pleased as when he +spoke of you; with what a boy's love, up to the last, he loved you. This +surely is a consolation. Yours is the cruel part--to survive; you must +try and not grudge to him his better fortune, to go first. It is the sad +part of such relations that one must remain and suffer; I cannot see my +poor Jenkin without you. Nor you indeed without him; but you may try to +rejoice that he is spared that extremity. Perhaps I (as I was so much +his confidant) know even better than you can do what your loss would +have been to him; he never spoke of you but his face changed; it +was--you were--his religion. + +I write by this post to Austin and to the Academy.--Yours most +sincerely, + + ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. + + + + +TO MRS. FLEEMING JENKIN + + + [_Skerryvore, Bournemouth, June 1885_.] + +MY DEAR MRS. JENKIN,--I should have written sooner, but we are in a +bustle, and I have been very tired, though still well. Your very kind +note was most welcome to me. I shall be very much pleased to have you +call me Louis, as he has now done for so many years. Sixteen, you say? +is it so long? It seems too short now; but of that we cannot judge, and +must not complain. + +I wish that either I or my wife could do anything for you; when we can, +you will, I am sure, command us. + +I trust that my notice gave you as little pain as was possible. I found +I had so much to say, that I preferred to keep it for another place and +make but a note in the Academy. To try to draw my friend at greater +length, and say what he was to me and his intimates, what a good +influence in life and what an example, is a desire that grows upon me. +It was strange, as I wrote the note, how his old tests and criticisms +haunted me; and it reminded me afresh with every few words how much I +owe to him. + +I had a note from Henley, very brief and very sad. We none of us yet +feel the loss; but we know what he would have said and wished. + +Do you know that Dew Smith has two photographs of him, neither very bad? +and one giving a lively, though not flattering air of him in +conversation? If you have not got them, would you like me to write to +Dew and ask him to give you proofs? + +I was so pleased that he and my wife made friends; that is a great +pleasure. We found and have preserved one fragment (the head) of the +drawing he made and tore up when he was last here. He had promised to +come and stay with us this summer. May we not hope, at least, some time +soon to have one from you?--Believe me, my dear Mrs. Jenkin, with the +most real sympathy, your sincere friend, + + ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. + +Dear me, what happiness I owe to both of you! + + + + +TO C. HOWARD CARRINGTON + + + In answer to an inquiry from a correspondent not personally known to + him, who had by some means heard of the _Great North Road_ project. + + _Skerryvore, Bournemouth, June 9th [1885]._ + +DEAR SIR,--_The Great North Road_ is still unfinished; it is scarce I +should say beyond Highgate: but it will be finished some day, bar the +big accident. It will not however gratify your taste; the highwayman is +not grasped: what you would have liked (and I, believe me) would have +been _Jerry Abershaw_: but Jerry was not written at the fit moment; I +have outgrown the taste--and his romantic horse-shoes clatter faintlier +down the incline towards Lethe.--Truly yours, + + ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. + + + + +TO KATHARINE DE MATTOS + + + _Skerryvore, Bournemouth, Summer 1885._ + +MY DEAR CATHERINE,--'Tis the most complete blague and folly to write to +you; you never answer and, even when you do, your letters crackle under +the teeth like ashes; containing nothing as they do but unseasonable +japes and a great cloudy vagueness as of the realm of chaos. In this I +know well they are like mine; and it becomes me well to write such--but +not you--for reasons too obvious to mention. We have both been sick; but +to-day I am up, though with an aching back. But I hope all will be +better. Of your views, state, finances, etc. etc., I know nothing. We +were mighty near the end of all things financially, when a strange shape +of a hand giving appeared in Heaven or from Hell, and set us up again +for the moment; yet still we totter on a whoreson brink. I beg pardon. I +forgot I was writing to a lady; but the word shall stay: it is the only +word; I would say it to the Q----n of E----d. + +How do you like letters of this kind? It is your kind. They mean +nothing; they are blankly insignificant; and impudently put one in the +wrong. One has learnt nothing; and forsooth one must reply.--Yours, the +Inexpressive Correspondent, + + R. L. S. + + +Hey-ey-ey! Sold again. Hey-ey-ey! + +Postscript: sold again. + + + + +TO W. H. LOW + + + In August of this year Stevenson made with his wife an excursion to + the west country (stopping at Dorchester on the way, for the pleasure + of seeing Mr. Thomas Hardy at home), and was detained for several + weeks at The New London inn, Exeter, by a bad fit of hemorrhage. His + correspondence is not resumed until the autumn. + + _Skerryvore, Bournemouth, October 22, 1885._ + +MY DEAR LOW,--I trust you are not annoyed with me beyond forgiveness; +for indeed my silence has been devilish prolonged. I can only tell you +that I have been nearly six months (more than six) in a strange +condition of collapse, when it was impossible to do any work, and +difficult (more difficult than you would suppose) to write the merest +note. I am now better, but not yet my own man in the way of brains, and +in health only so-so. I suppose I shall learn (I begin to think I am +learning) to fight this vast, vague feather-bed of an obsession that now +overlies and smothers me; but in the beginnings of these conflicts, the +inexperienced wrestler is always worsted, and I own I have been quite +extinct. I wish you to know, though it can be no excuse, that you are +not the only one of my friends by many whom I have thus neglected; and +even now, having come so very late into the possession of myself, with a +substantial capital of debts, and my work still moving with a desperate +slowness--as a child might fill a sandbag with its little handfuls--and +my future deeply pledged, there is almost a touch of virtue in my +borrowing these hours to write to you. Why I said "hours" I know not; it +would look blue for both of us if I made good the word. + +I was writing your address the other day, ordering a copy of my next, +_Prince Otto_, to go your way. I hope you have not seen it in parts; it +was not meant to be so read; and only my poverty (dishonourably) +consented to the serial evolution. + +I will send you with this a copy of the English edition of the _Child's +Garden_. I have heard there is some vile rule of the post-office in the +States against inscriptions; so I send herewith a piece of doggerel +which Mr. Bunner may, if he thinks fit, copy off the fly-leaf. + +Sargent was down again and painted a portrait of me walking about in my +own dining-room, in my own velveteen jacket, and twisting as I go my own +moustache; at one corner a glimpse of my wife, in an Indian dress, and +seated in a chair that was once my grandfather's, but since some months +goes by the name of Henry James's--for it was there the novelist loved +to sit--adds a touch of poesy and comicality. It is, I think, excellent, +but is too eccentric to be exhibited. I am at one extreme corner; my +wife, in this wild dress, and looking like a ghost, is at the extreme +other end; between us an open door exhibits my palatial entrance hall +and a part of my respected staircase. All this is touched in lovely, +with that witty touch of Sargent's; but, of course, it looks dam queer +as a whole. + +Pray let me hear from you, and give me good news of yourself and your +wife, to whom please remember me.--Yours most sincerely, my dear Low, + + ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. + + + + +TO W. E. HENLEY + + + _Prince Otto_ was published in October of this year; and the + following refers to two reviews of it--one of them by Mr. Henley, + which to the writer's displeasure had been pruned by the editor + before printing; the other by a writer in the Saturday Review who + declared that Otto was "a fool and a wittol," and could see nothing + but false style in the story of Seraphina's flight through the + forest. + + _[Skerryvore, Bournemouth, Autumn 1885.]_ + +DEAR LAD,--If there was any more praise in what you wrote, I think [the +editor] has done us both a service; some of it stops my throat. What, it +would not have been the same if Dumas or Musset had done it, would it +not? Well, no, I do not think it would, do you know, now; I am really of +opinion it would not; and a dam good job too. Why, think what Musset +would have made of Otto! Think how gallantly Dumas would have carried +his crowd through! And whatever you do, don't quarrel with ----. It +gives me much pleasure to see your work there; I think you do yourself +great justice in that field; and I would let no annoyance, petty or +justifiable, debar me from such a market. I think you do good there. +Whether (considering our intimate relations) you would not do better to +refrain from reviewing me, I will leave to yourself: were it all on my +side, you could foresee my answer; but there is your side also, where +you must be the judge. + +As for the Saturday. Otto is no "fool," the reader is left in no doubt +as to whether or not Seraphina was a Messalina (though much it would +matter, if you come to that); and therefore on both these points the +reviewer has been unjust. Secondly, the romance lies precisely in the +freeing of two spirits from these court intrigues; and here I think the +reviewer showed himself dull. Lastly, if Otto's speech is offensive to +him, he is one of the large class of unmanly and ungenerous dogs who +arrogate and defile the name of manly. As for the passages quoted, I do +confess that some of them reek Gongorically; they are excessive, but +they are not inelegant after all. However, had he attacked me only +there, he would have scored. + +Your criticism on Gondremark is, I fancy, right. I thought all your +criticisms were indeed; only your praise--chokes me.--Yours ever, + + R. L. S. + + + + +TO WILLIAM ARCHER + + The paper referred to in this and the following letters is one which + Mr. Archer wrote over his own signature in the November number of + Time, a magazine now extinct. + + _Skerryvore, Bournemouth, October 28, 1885._ + +DEAR MR. ARCHER,--I have read your paper with my customary admiration; +it is very witty, very adroit; it contains a great deal that is +excellently true (particularly the parts about my stories and the +description of me as an artist in life); but you will not be surprised +if I do not think it altogether just. It seems to me, in particular, +that you have wilfully read all my works in terms of my earliest; my +aim, even in style, has quite changed in the last six or seven years; +and this I should have thought you would have noticed. Again, your first +remark upon the affectation of the italic names; a practice only +followed in my two affected little books of travel, where a +typographical _minauderie_ of the sort appeared to me in character; and +what you say of it, then, is quite just. But why should you forget +yourself and use these same italics as an index to my theology some +pages further on? This is lightness of touch indeed; may I say, it is +almost sharpness of practice? + +Excuse these remarks. I have been on the whole much interested, and +sometimes amused. Are you aware that the praiser of this "brave +gymnasium" has not seen a canoe nor taken a long walk since '79? that he +is rarely out of the house nowadays, and carries his arm in a sling? Can +you imagine that he is a back-slidden communist, and is sure he will go +to hell (if there be such an excellent institution) for the luxury in +which he lives? And can you believe that, though it is gaily expressed, +the thought is hag and skeleton in every moment of vacuity or +depression? Can you conceive how profoundly I am irritated by the +opposite affectation to my own, when I see strong men and rich men +bleating about their sorrows and the burthen of life, in a world full of +"cancerous paupers," and poor sick children, and the fatally bereaved, +ay, and down even to such happy creatures as myself, who has yet been +obliged to strip himself, one after another, of all the pleasures that +he had chosen except smoking (and the days of that I know in my heart +ought to be over), I forgot eating, which I still enjoy, and who sees +the circle of impotence closing very slowly but quite steadily around +him? In my view, one dank, dispirited word is harmful, a crime of +_lese-humanite_, a piece of acquired evil; every gay, every bright word +or picture, like every pleasant air of music, is a piece of pleasure set +afloat; the reader catches it, and, if he be healthy, goes on his way +rejoicing; and it is the business of art so to send him, as often as +possible. + +For what you say, so kindly, so prettily, so precisely, of my style, I +must in particular thank you; though even here, I am vexed you should +not have remarked on my attempted change of manner: seemingly this +attempt is still quite unsuccessful! Well, we shall fight it out on +this line if it takes all summer. + +And now for my last word: Mrs. Stevenson is very anxious that you should +see me, and that she should see you, in the flesh. If you at all share +in these views, I am a fixture. Write or telegraph (giving us time, +however, to telegraph in reply, lest the day be impossible), and come +down here to a bed and a dinner. What do you say, my dear critic? I +shall be truly pleased to see you; and to explain at greater length what +I meant by saying narrative was the most characteristic mood of +literature, on which point I have great hopes I shall persuade +you.--Yours truly, + + ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. + + +_P.S._--My opinion about Thoreau, and the passage in The Week, is +perhaps a fad, but it is sincere and stable. I am still of the same mind +five years later; did you observe that I had said "modern" authors? and +will you observe again that this passage touches the very joint of our +division? It is one that appeals to me, deals with that part of life +that I think the most important, and you, if I gather rightly, so much +less so? You believe in the extreme moment of the facts that humanity +has acquired and is acquiring; I think them of moment, but still of much +less than those inherent or inherited brute principles and laws that sit +upon us (in the character of conscience) as heavy as a shirt of mail, +and that (in the character of the affections and the airy spirit of +pleasure) make all the light of our lives. The house is, indeed, a great +thing, and should be rearranged on sanitary principles; but my heart and +all my interest are with the dweller, that ancient of days and day-old +infant man. + + R. L. S. + + +An excellent touch is p. 584. "By instinct or design he eschews what +demands constructive patience." I believe it is both; my theory is that +literature must always be most at home in treating movement and change; +hence I look for them. + + + + +TO THOMAS STEVENSON + + + _[Skerryvore, Bournemouth] October 28, 1885._ + +MY DEAREST FATHER,--Get the November number of Time, and you will see a +review of me by a very clever fellow, who is quite furious at bottom +because I am too orthodox, just as Purcell was savage because I am not +orthodox enough. I fall between two stools. It is odd, too, to see how +this man thinks me a full-blooded fox-hunter, and tells me my philosophy +would fail if I lost my health or had to give up exercise! + +An illustrated _Treasure Island_ will be out next month. I have had an +early copy, and the French pictures are admirable. The artist has got +his types up in Hogarth; he is full of fire and spirit, can draw and can +compose, and has understood the book as I meant it, all but one or two +little accidents, such as making the _Hispaniola_ a brig. I would send +you my copy, _but I cannot_; it is my new toy, and I cannot divorce +myself from this enjoyment. + +I am keeping really better, and have been out about every second day, +though the weather is cold and very wild. + +I was delighted to hear you were keeping better; you and Archer would +agree, more shame to you! (Archer is my pessimist critic.) Good-bye to +all of you, with my best love. We had a dreadful overhauling of my +conduct as a son the other night; and my wife stripped me of my +illusions and made me admit I had been a detestable bad one. Of one +thing in particular she convicted me in my own eyes: I mean, a most +unkind reticence, which hung on me then, and I confess still hangs on me +now, when I try to assure you that I do love you.--Ever your bad son, + + ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. + + + + +TO HENRY JAMES + + + _Skerryvore, Bournemouth, October 28, 1885._ + +MY DEAR HENRY JAMES,--At last, my wife being at a concert, and a story +being done, I am at some liberty to write and give you of my views. And +first, many thanks for the works that came to my sickbed. And second, +and more important, as to the _Princess_.[13] Well, I think you are +going to do it this time; I cannot, of course, foresee, but these two +first numbers seem to me picturesque and sound and full of lineament, +and very much a new departure. As for your young lady, she is all there; +yes, sir, you can do low life, I believe. The prison was excellent; it +was of that nature of touch that I sometimes achingly miss from your +former work; with some of the grime, that is, and some of the emphasis +of skeleton there is in nature. I pray you to take grime in a good +sense; it need not be ignoble: dirt may have dignity; in nature it +usually has; and your prison was imposing. + +And now to the main point: why do we not see you? Do not fail us. Make +an alarming sacrifice, and let us see "Henry James's chair" properly +occupied. I never sit in it myself (though it was my grandfather's); it +has been consecrated to guests by your approval, and now stands at my +elbow gaping. We have a new room, too, to introduce to you--our last +baby, the drawing-room; it never cries, and has cut its teeth. Likewise, +there is a cat now. It promises to be a monster of laziness and +self-sufficiency. + +Pray see, in the November Time (a dread name for a magazine of light +reading), a very clever fellow, W. Archer, stating his views of me; the +rosy-gilled "athletico-aesthete"; and warning me, in a fatherly manner, +that a rheumatic fever would try my philosophy (as indeed it would), and +that my gospel would not do for "those who are shut out from the +exercise of any manly virtue save renunciation." To those who know that +rickety and cloistered spectre, the real R. L. S., the paper, besides +being clever in itself, presents rare elements of sport. The critical +parts are in particular very bright and neat, and often excellently +true. Get it by all manner of means. + +I hear on all sides I am to be attacked as an immoral writer; this is +painful. Have I at last got, like you, to the pitch of being attacked? +'Tis the consecration I lack--and could do without. Not that Archer's +paper is an attack, or what either he or I, I believe, would call one; +'tis the attacks on my morality (which I had thought a gem of the first +water) I referred to. + +Now, my dear James, come--come--come. The spirit (that is me) says, +Come; and the bride (and that is my wife) says, Come; and the best thing +you can do for us and yourself and your work is to get up and do so +right away.--Yours affectionately, + + ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. + + + + +TO WILLIAM ARCHER + + + _[Skerryvore, Bournemouth] October 30, 1885._ + +DEAR MR. ARCHER,--It is possible my father may be soon down with me; he +is an old man and in bad health and spirits; and I could neither leave +him alone, nor could we talk freely before him. If he should be here +when you offer your visit, you will understand if I have to say no, and +put you off. + +I quite understand your not caring to refer to things of private +knowledge. What still puzzles me is how you ("in the witness box"--ha! I +like the phrase) should have made your argument actually hinge on a +contention which the facts answered. + +I am pleased to hear of the correctness of my guess. It is then as I +supposed; you are of the school of the generous and not the sullen +pessimists; and I can feel with you. I used myself to rage when I saw +sick folk going by in their Bath-chairs; since I have been sick myself +(and always when I was sick myself), I found life, even in its rough +places, to have a property of easiness. That which we suffer ourselves +has no longer the same air of monstrous injustice and wanton cruelty +that suffering wears when we see it in the case of others. So we begin +gradually to see that things are not black, but have their strange +compensations; and when they draw towards their worst, the idea of death +is like a bed to lie on. I should bear false witness if I did not +declare life happy. And your wonderful statement that happiness tends to +die out and misery to continue, which was what put me on the track of +your frame of mind, is diagnostic of the happy man raging over the +misery of others; it could never be written by the man who had tried +what unhappiness was like. And at any rate, it was a slip of the pen: +the ugliest word that science has to declare is a reserved indifference +to happiness and misery in the individual; it declares no leaning toward +the black, no iniquity on the large scale in fate's doings, rather a +marble equality, dread not cruel, giving and taking away and +reconciling. + +Why have I not written my _Timon_? Well, here is my worst quarrel with +you. You take my young books as my last word. The tendency to try to say +more has passed unperceived (my fault, that). And you make no allowance +for the slowness with which a man finds and tries to learn his tools. I +began with a neat brisk little style, and a sharp little knack of +partial observation; I have tried to expand my means, but still I can +only utter a part of what I wish to say, and am bound to feel; and much +of it will die unspoken. But if I had the pen of Shakespeare, I have no +_Timon_ to give forth. I feel kindly to the powers that be; I marvel +they should use me so well; and when I think of the case of others, I +wonder too, but in another vein, whether they may not, whether they +must not, be like me, still with some compensation, some delight. To +have suffered, nay, to suffer, sets a keen edge on what remains of the +agreeable. This is a great truth, and has to be learned in the +fire.--Yours very truly, + + ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. + + +We expect you, remember that. + + + + +TO WILLIAM ARCHER + + + _Skerryvore, Bournemouth, November 1, 1885._ + +DEAR MR. ARCHER,--You will see that I had already had a sight of your +article and what were my thoughts. + +One thing in your letter puzzles me. Are you, too, not in the +witness-box? And if you are, why take a wilfully false hypothesis? If +you knew I was a chronic invalid, why say that my philosophy was +unsuitable to such a case? My call for facts is not so general as yours, +but an essential fact should not be put the other way about. + +The fact is, consciously or not, you doubt my honesty; you think I am +making faces, and at heart disbelieve my utterances. And this I am +disposed to think must spring from your not having had enough of pain, +sorrow, and trouble in your existence. It is easy to have too much; easy +also or possible to have too little; enough is required that a man may +appreciate what elements of consolation and joy there are in everything +but absolutely overpowering physical pain or disgrace, and how in almost +all circumstances the human soul can play a fair part. You fear life, I +fancy, on the principle of the hand of little employment. But perhaps my +hypothesis is as unlike the truth as the one you chose. Well, if it be +so, if you have had trials, sickness, the approach of death, the +alienation of friends, poverty at the heels, and have not felt your +soul turn round upon these things and spurn them under--you must be very +differently made from me, and I earnestly believe from the majority of +men. But at least you are in the right to wonder and complain. + +To "say all"? Stay here. All at once? That would require a word from the +pen of Gargantua. We say each particular thing as it comes up, and "with +that sort of emphasis that for the time there seems to be no other." +Words will not otherwise serve us; no, nor even Shakespeare, who could +not have put _As You Like It_ and _Timon_ into one without ruinous loss +both of emphasis and substance. Is it quite fair then to keep your face +so steadily On my most light-hearted works, and then say I recognise no +evil? Yet in the paper on Burns, for instance, I show myself alive to +some sorts of evil. But then, perhaps, they are not your sorts. + +And again: "to say all"? All: yes. Everything: no. The task were +endless, the effect nil. But my all, in such a vast field as this of +life, is what interests me, what stands out, what takes on itself a +presence for my imagination or makes a figure in that little tricky +abbreviation which is the best that my reason can conceive. That I must +treat, or I shall be fooling with my readers. That, and not the all of +some one else. + +And here we come to the division: not only do I believe that literature +should give joy, but I see a universe, I suppose, eternally different +from yours; a solemn, a terrible, but a very joyous and noble universe, +where suffering is not at least wantonly inflicted, though it falls with +dispassionate partiality, but where it may be and generally is nobly +borne; where, above all (this I believe; probably you don't: I think he +may, with cancer), _any brave man may make_ out a life which shall be +happy for himself, and, by so being, beneficent to those about him. And +if he fails, why should I hear him weeping? I mean if I fail, why should +I weep? Why should _you_ hear _me_? Then to me morals, the conscience, +the affections, and the passions are, I will own frankly and sweepingly, +so infinitely more important than the other parts of life, that I +conceive men rather triflers who become immersed in the latter; and I +will always think the man who keeps his lip stiff, and makes "a happy +fireside clime," and carries a pleasant face about to friends and +neighbours, infinitely greater (in the abstract) than an atrabilious +Shakespeare or a backbiting Kant or Darwin. No offence to any of these +gentlemen, two of whom probably (one for certain) came up to my +standard. + +And now enough said; it were hard if a poor man could not criticise +another without having so much ink shed against him. But I shall still +regret you should have written on an hypothesis you knew to be +untenable, and that you should thus have made your paper, for those who +do not know me, essentially unfair. The rich, fox-hunting squire speaks +with one voice; the sick man of letters with another.--Yours very truly, + + ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON + (_Prometheus-Heine in minimis_). + + +_P.S._--Here I go again. To me, the medicine bottles on my chimney and +the blood on my handkerchief are accidents; they do not colour my view +of life, as you would know, I think, if you had experience of sickness; +they do not exist in my prospect; I would as soon drag them under the +eyes of my readers as I would mention a pimple I might chance to have +(saving your presence) on my posteriors. What does it prove? what does +it change? it has not hurt, it has not changed me in any essential part; +and I should think myself a trifler and in bad taste if I introduced the +world to these unimportant privacies. + +But, again, there is this mountain-range between us--_that you do not +believe me_. It is not flattering, but the fault is probably in my +literary art. + + + + +TO W. H. LOW + + The "other thing coming out" mentioned below in the last paragraph + but one was _The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde_. + + _Skerryvore, Bournemouth, December 26, 1885._ + +MY DEAR LOW,--_Lamia_ has not yet turned up, but your letter came to me +this evening with a scent of the Boulevard Montparnasse that was +irresistible. The sand of Lavenue's crumbled under my heel; and the +bouquet of the old Fleury came back to me, and I remembered the day when +I found a twenty franc piece under my fetish. Have you that fetish +still? and has it brought you luck? I remembered, too, my first sight of +you in a frock-coat and a smoking-cap, when we passed the evening at the +Cafe de Medicis; and my last when we sat and talked in the Parc Monceau; +and all these things made me feel a little young again, which, to one +who has been mostly in bed for a month, was a vivifying change. + +Yes, you are lucky to have a bag that holds you comfortably. Mine is a +strange contrivance; I don't die, damme, and I can't get along on both +feet to save my soul; I am a chronic sickist; and my work cripples along +between bed and the parlour, between the medicine bottle and the cupping +glass. Well, I like my life all the same; and should like it none the +worse if I could have another talk with you, though even my talks now +are measured out to me by the minute hand like poisons in a minim glass. + +A photograph will be taken of my ugly mug and sent to you for ulterior +purposes: I have another thing coming out, which I did not put in the +way of the Scribners, I can scarce tell how; but I was sick and +penniless and rather back on the world, and mismanaged it. I trust they +will forgive me. + +I am sorry to hear of Mrs. Low's illness, and glad to hear of her +recovery. I will announce the coming _Lamia_ to Bob: he steams away at +literature like smoke. I have a beautiful Bob on my walls, and a good +Sargent, and a delightful Lemon; and your etching now hangs framed in +the dining-room. So the arts surround me.--Yours, + + R. L. S. + + + + +TO MRS. DE MATTOS + + With this cousin the writer had always been on terms of close + affection, and he now dedicated to her _The Strange Case of Dr. + Jekyll and Mr. Hyde_. In the dedication as published only the second + verse stands. + + _[Skerryvore, Bournemouth] January 1st, 1886._ + +DEAREST KATHARINE,--Here, on a very little book and accompanied with +lame verses, I have put your name. Our kindness is now getting well on +in years; it must be nearly of age; and it gets more valuable to me with +every time I see you. It is not possible to express any sentiment, and +it is not necessary to try, at least between us. You know very well that +I love you dearly, and that I always will. I only wish the verses were +better, but at least you like the story; and it is sent to you by the +one that loves you--Jekyll, and not Hyde. + + _R. L. S._ + + + _Ave!_ + + Bells upon the city are ringing in the night; + High above the gardens are the houses full of light; + On the heathy Pentlands is the curlew flying free; + And the broom is blowing bonnie in the north countrie. + + We cannae break the bonds that God decreed to bind, + Still we'll be the children of the heather and the wind; + Far away from home, O, it's still for you and me + That the broom is blowing bonnie in the north countrie. + + R. L. S. + + + + +TO ALISON CUNNINGHAM + + + _[Skerryvore, Bournemouth] Jan. 1st, 1886._ + +MY DEAR KINNICUM,[14]--I am a very bad dog, but not for the first time. +Your book, which is very interesting, came duly; and I immediately got +a very bad cold indeed, and have been fit for nothing whatever. I am a +bit better now, and aye on the mend; so I write to tell you, I thought +of you on New Year's Day; though, I own, it would have been more decent +if I had thought in time for you to get my letter then. Well, what can't +be cured must be endured, Mr. Lawrie; and you must be content with what +I give. If I wrote all the letters I ought to write, and at the proper +time, I should be very good and very happy; but I doubt if I should do +anything else. + +I suppose you will be in town for the New Year; and I hope your health +is pretty good. What you want is diet; but it is as much use to tell you +that as it is to tell my father. And I quite admit a diet is a beastly +thing. I doubt, however, if it be as bad as not being allowed to speak, +which I have tried fully, and do not like. When, at the same time, I was +not allowed to read, it passed a joke. But these are troubles of the +past, and on this day, at least, it is proper to suppose they won't +return. But we are not put here to enjoy ourselves: it was not God's +purpose; and I am prepared to argue, it is not our sincere wish. As for +our deserts, the less said of them the better, for somebody might hear, +and nobody cares to be laughed at. A good man is a very noble thing to +see, but not to himself; what he seems to God is, fortunately, not our +business; that is the domain of faith; and whether on the first of +January or the thirty-first of December, faith is a good word to end on. + +My dear Cummy, many happy returns to you and my best love.--The worst +correspondent in the world, + + ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. + + + + +TO MR. AND MRS. THOMAS STEVENSON + + + [_Skerryvore, Bournemouth_] _January 1st, 1886_. + +MY DEAR PEOPLE,--Many happy returns of the day to you all; I am fairly +well and in good spirits; and much and hopefully occupied with dear +Jenkin's life. The inquiry in every detail, every letter that I read, +makes me think of him more nobly. I cannot imagine how I got his +friendship; I did not deserve it. I believe the notice will be +interesting and useful. + +My father's last letter, owing to the use of a quill pen and the neglect +of blotting-paper, was hopelessly illegible. Every one tried, and every +one failed to decipher an important word on which the interest of one +whole clause (and the letter consisted of two) depended. + +I find I can make little more of this; but I'll spare the blots.--Dear +people, ever your loving son, + + R. L. S. + + +I will try again, being a giant refreshed by the house being empty. The +presence of people is the great obstacle to letter-writing. I deny that +letters should contain news (I mean mine; those of other people should). +But mine should contain appropriate sentiments and humorous nonsense, or +nonsense without the humour. When the house is empty, the mind is seized +with a desire--no, that is too strong--a willingness to pour forth +unmitigated rot, which constitutes (in me) the true spirit of +correspondence. When I have no remarks to offer (and nobody to offer +them to), my pen flies, and you see the remarkable consequence of a page +literally covered with words and genuinely devoid of sense. I can always +do that, if quite alone, and I like doing it; but I have yet to learn +that it is beloved by correspondents. The deuce of it is, that there is +no end possible but the end of the paper; and as there is very little +left of that--if I cannot stop writing--suppose you give up reading. It +would all come to the same thing; and I think we should all be +happier.... + + + + +TO W. H. LOW + + + In the following letter R. L. S. accepts the dedication of Mr. Low's + illustrated edition of Keats's _Lamia_, and sends him in return the + newly published _Jekyll and Hyde_, and a set of verses afterwards + printed in the Century Magazine and _Underwoods_, and inscribed by + Mr. St. Gaudens on his medallion portrait of the author. The terms of + the _Lamia_ dedication are as follows: "In testimony of loyal + friendship and of a common faith in doubtful tales from Faery-Land, I + dedicate to Robert Louis Stevenson my work in this book." The Latin + legend inscribed above the design runs: "Neque est ullum certius + amicitiae vinculum quam consensus et societas consiliorum et + voluntatum." + + [_Skerryvore, Bournemouth_] _Jan. 2nd, 1886._ + +MY DEAR LOW,--_Lamia_ has come, and I do not know how to thank you, not +only for the beautiful art of the designs, but for the handsome and apt +words of the dedication. My favourite is "Bathes unseen," which is a +masterpiece; and the next, "Into the green recessed woods," is perhaps +more remarkable, though it does not take my fancy so imperiously. The +night scene at Corinth pleases me also. The second part offers fewer +opportunities. I own I should like to see both _Isabella_ and the _Eve_ +thus illustrated; and then there's _Hyperion_--O, yes, and _Endymion_! I +should like to see the lot: beautiful pictures dance before me by +hundreds: I believe _Endymion_ would suit you best. It also is in +faery-land; and I see a hundred opportunities, cloudy and flowery +glories, things as delicate as the cobweb in the bush; actions, not in +themselves of any mighty purport, but made for the pencil: the feast of +Pan, Peona's isle, the "slabbed margin of a well," the chase of the +butterfly, the nymph, Glaucus, Cybele, Sleep on his couch, a farrago of +unconnected beauties. But I divagate; and all this sits in the bosom of +the publisher. + +What is more important, I accept the terms of the dedication with a +frank heart, and the terms of your Latin legend fairly. The sight of +your pictures has once more awakened me to my right mind; something may +come of it; yet one more bold push to get free of this prison-yard of +the abominably ugly, where I take my daily exercise with my +contemporaries. I do not know, I have a feeling in my bones, a sentiment +which may take on the forms of imagination, or may not. If it does, I +shall owe it to you; and the thing will thus descend from Keats even if +on the wrong side of the blanket. If it can be done in prose--that is +the puzzle--I divagate again. Thank you again: you can draw and yet you +do not love the ugly: what are you doing in this age? Flee, while it is +yet time; they will have your four limbs pinned upon a stable door to +scare witches. The ugly, my unhappy friend, is _de rigueur_: it is the +only wear! What a chance you threw away with the serpent! Why had +Apollonius no pimples? Heavens, my dear Low, you do not know your +business.... + +I send you herewith a Gothic gnome for your Greek nymph; but the gnome +is interesting, I think, and he came out of a deep mine, where he guards +the fountain of tears. It is not always the time to rejoice.--Yours +ever, + + R. L. S. + + +The gnome's name is _Jekyll & Hyde_; I believe you will find he is +likewise quite willing to answer to the name of Low or Stevenson. + +_Same day._--I have copied out on the other sheet some bad verses, which +somehow your picture suggested; as a kind of image of things that I +pursue and cannot reach, and that you seem--no, not to have reached--but +to have come a thought nearer to than I. This is the life we have +chosen: well, the choice was mad, but I should make it again. + +What occurs to me is this: perhaps they might be printed in (say) the +Century for the sake of my name; and if that were possible, they might +advertise your book. It might be headed as sent in acknowledgment of +your _Lamia_. Or perhaps it might be introduced by the phrases I have +marked above. I dare say they would stick it in: I want no payment, +being well paid by _Lamia_. If they are not, keep them to yourself. + + + + +TO WILL H. LOW + + +_Damned bad lines in return for a beautiful book_ + + YOUTH now flees on feathered foot. + Faint and fainter sounds the flute; + Rarer songs of Gods. + And still, + Somewhere on the sunny hill, + Or along the winding stream. + Through the willows, flits a dream; + Flits, but shows a smiling face, + Flees, but with so quaint a grace, + None can choose to stay at home, + All must follow--all must roam. + + This is unborn beauty: she + Now in air floats high and free, + Takes the sun, and breaks the blue;-- + Late, with stooping pinion flew + Raking hedgerow trees, and wet + Her wing in silver streams, and set + Shining foot on temple roof. + Now again she flies aloof, + Coasting mountain clouds, and kissed + By the evening's amethyst. + + In wet wood and miry lane + Still we pound and pant in vain; + Still with earthy foot we chase + Waning pinion, fainting face; + Still, with grey hair, we stumble on + Till--behold!--the vision gone! + Where has fleeting beauty led? + To the doorway of the dead! + [Life is gone, but life was gay: + We have come the primrose way!][15] + + R. L. S. + + + + +TO EDMUND GOSSE + + + _Skerryvore, Bournemouth, Jan. 2nd, 1886._ + +MY DEAR GOSSE,--Thank you for your letter, so interesting to my vanity. +There is a review in the St. James's, which, as it seems to hold +somewhat of your opinions, and is besides written with a pen and not a +poker, we think may possibly be yours. The _Prince_[16] has done fairly +well in spite of the reviews, which have been bad: he was, as you +doubtless saw, well slated in the Saturday; one paper received it as a +child's story; another (picture my agony) described it as a "Gilbert +comedy." It was amusing to see the race between me and Justin M'Carthy: +the Milesian has won by a length. + +That is the hard part of literature. You aim high, and you take longer +over your work, and it will not be so successful as if you had aimed low +and rushed it. What the public likes is work (of any kind) a little +loosely executed; so long as it is a little wordy, a little slack, a +little dim and knotless, the dear public likes it; it should (if +possible) be a little dull into the bargain. I know that good work +sometimes hits; but, with my hand on my heart, I think it is by an +accident. And I know also that good work must succeed at last; but that +is not the doing of the public; they are only shamed into silence or +affectation. I do not write for the public; I do write for money, a +nobler deity; and most of all for myself, not perhaps any more noble, +but both more intelligent and nearer home. + +Let us tell each other sad stories of the bestiality of the beast whom +we feed. What he likes is the newspaper; and to me the press is the +mouth of a sewer, where lying is professed as from an university chair, +and everything prurient, and ignoble, and essentially dull, finds its +abode and pulpit. I do not like mankind; but men, and not all of +these--and fewer women. As for respecting the race, and, above all, that +fatuous rabble of burgesses called "the public," God save me from such +irreligion!--that way lies disgrace and dishonour. There must be +something wrong in me, or I would not be popular. + +This is perhaps a trifle stronger than my sedate and permanent opinion. +Not much, I think. As for the art that we practise, I have never been +able to see why its professors should be respected. They chose the +primrose path; when they found it was not all primroses, but some of it +brambly, and much of it uphill, they began to think and to speak of +themselves as holy martyrs. But a man is never martyred in any honest +sense in the pursuit of his pleasure; and _delirium tremens_ has more of +the honour of the cross. We were full of the pride of life, and chose, +like prostitutes, to live by a pleasure. We should be paid if we give +the pleasure we pretend to give; but why should we be honoured? + +I hope some day you and Mrs. Gosse will come for a Sunday; but we must +wait till I am able to see people. I am very full of Jenkin's life; it +is painful, yet very pleasant, to dig into the past of a dead friend, +and find him, at every spadeful, shine brighter. I own, as I read, I +wonder more and more why he should have taken me to be a friend. He had +many and obvious faults upon the face of him; the heart was pure gold. I +feel it little pain to have lost him, for it is a loss in which I cannot +believe; I take it, against reason, for an absence; if not to-day, then +to-morrow, I still fancy I shall see him in the door; and then, now when +I know him better, how glad a meeting! Yes, if I could believe in the +immortality business, the world would indeed be too good to be true; but +we were put here to do what service we can, for honour and not for hire: +the sods cover us, and the worm that never dies, the conscience, sleeps +well at last; these are the wages, besides what we receive so lavishly +day by day; and they are enough for a man who knows his own frailty and +sees all things in the proportion of reality. The soul of piety was +killed long ago by that idea of reward. Nor is happiness, whether +eternal or temporal, the reward that mankind seeks. Happinesses are but +his wayside campings; his soul is in the journey; he was born for the +struggle, and only tastes his life in effort and on the condition that +he is opposed. How, then, is such a creature, so fiery, so pugnacious, +so made up of discontent and aspiration, and such noble and uneasy +passions--how can he be rewarded but by rest? I would not say it aloud; +for man's cherished belief is that he loves that happiness which he +continually spurns and passes by; and this belief in some ulterior +happiness exactly fits him. He does not require to stop and taste it; he +can be about the rugged and bitter business where his heart lies; and +yet he can tell himself this fairy tale of an eternal tea-party, and +enjoy the notion that he is both himself and something else; and that +his friends will yet meet him, all ironed out and emasculate, and still +be lovable,--as if love did not live in the faults of the beloved only, +and draw its breath in an unbroken round of forgiveness! But the truth +is, we must fight until we die; and when we die there can be no quiet +for mankind but complete resumption into--what?--God, let us say--when +all these desperate tricks will lie spellbound at last. + +Here came my dinner and cut this sermon short--_excusez_. + + R. L. S. + + + + +TO JAMES PAYN + + + The late Mrs. Buckle, a daughter of Mr. James Payn married to the + editor of the Times, had laughingly remonstrated, through her father, + on recognising some features of her own house in Queen Square, + Bloomsbury, in the description of that tenanted by the fair Cuban in + the section of Stevenson's _Dynamiter_ which tells the story of the + Brown Box. + + _Skerryvore, Bournemouth, Jan. 2nd, 1886._ + +DEAR JAMES PAYN,--Your very kind letter came very welcome; and still +more welcome the news that you see ----'s tale. I will now tell you (and +it was very good and very wise of me not to tell it before) that he is +one of the most unlucky men I know, having put all his money into a +pharmacy at Hyeres, when the cholera (certainly not his fault) swept +away his customers in a body. Thus you can imagine the pleasure I have +to announce to him a spark of hope, for he sits to-day in his pharmacy, +doing nothing and taking nothing, and watching his debts inexorably +mount up. + +To pass to other matters: your hand, you are perhaps aware, is not one +of those that can be read running; and the name of your daughter remains +for me undecipherable. I call her, then, your daughter--and a very good +name too--and I beg to explain how it came about that I took her house. +The hospital was a point in my tale; but there is a house on each side. +Now the true house is the one before the hospital: is that No. 11? If +not, what do you complain of? If it is, how can I help what is true? +Everything in the _Dynamiter_ is not true; but the story of the Brown +Box is, in almost every particular; I lay my hand on my heart and swear +to it. It took place in that house in 1884; and if your daughter was in +that house at the time, all I can say is she must have kept very bad +society. + +But I see you coming. Perhaps your daughter's house has not a balcony at +the back? I cannot answer for that; I only know that side of Queen +Square from the pavement and the back windows of Brunswick Row. Thence I +saw plenty of balconies (terraces rather); and if there is none to the +particular house in question, it must have been so arranged to spite me. + +I now come to the conclusion of this matter. I address three questions +to your daughter:-- + + 1st. Has her house the proper terrace? + 2nd. Is it on the proper side of the hospital? + 3rd. Was she there in the summer of 1884? + +You see, I begin to fear that Mrs. Desborough may have deceived me on +some trifling points, for she is not a lady of peddling exactitude. If +this should prove to be so, I will give your daughter a proper +certificate, and her house property will return to its original value. + +Can man say more?--Yours very truly, + + ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. + + +I saw the other day that the Eternal had plagiarised from _Lost Sir +Massingberd_: good again, sir! I wish he would plagiarise the death of +Zero. + + + + +TO W. H. LOW + + + The late Sir Percy and Lady Shelley had in these days attached + themselves warmly to R. L. S., and saw in his ways and character a + living image of those of the poet, Sir Percy's father, as they + imagined him. + + _Skerryvore, Bournemouth, Jan. Somethingorother-th, 1886._ + +MY DEAR LOW,--I send you two photographs: they are both done by Sir +Percy Shelley, the poet's son, which may interest. The sitting down one +is, I think, the best; but if they choose that, see that the little +reflected light on the nose does not give me a turn-up; that would be +tragic. Don't forget "Baronet" to Sir Percy's name. + +We all think a heap of your book; and I am well pleased with my +dedication.--Yours ever, + + R. L. STEVENSON. + + +_P.S._--Apropos of the odd controversy about Shelley's nose: I have +before me four photographs of myself, done by Shelley's son: my nose is +hooked, not like the eagle, indeed, but like the accipitrine family in +man: well, out of these four, only one marks the bend, one makes it +straight, and one suggests a turn-up. This throws a flood of light on +calumnious man--and the scandal-mongering sun. For personally I cling to +my curve. To continue the Shelley controversy: I have a look of him, all +his sisters had noses like mine: Sir Percy has a marked hook; all the +family had high cheek-bones like mine; what doubt, then, but that this +turn-up (of which Jeaffreson accuses the poet, along with much other +_fatras_) is the result of some accident similar to what has happened in +my photographs by his son? + + R. L. S. + + + + +TO CHARLES J. GUTHRIE + + + "The lad" is Lloyd Osbourne, at this time a student at Edinburgh + University. + + _Skerryvore, Bournemouth, Jan. 18th, 1886._ + +MY DEAR GUTHRIE,--I hear the lad has got into the Spec. and I write to +thank you very warmly for the part you have played. I only wish we were +both going there together to-morrow night, and you would be in the +secretary's place (that so well became you, sir) and I were to open a +debate or harry you on "Private Business," and Omond perhaps to read us +a few glowing pages on--the siege of Saragossa, was it? or the Battle of +Saratoga? my memory fails me, but I have not forgotten a certain white +charger that careered over the fields of incoherent fight with a +prodigious consequence of laughter: have you? I wonder, has Omond? + +Well, well, _perierunt_, but, I hope, _non imputantur_. We have had good +fun. + +Again thanking you sincerely, I remain, my dear Guthrie, your old +comrade, + + ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. + + + + +TO THOMAS STEVENSON + + + _Kidnapped_ had at this time just been taken up again, and Stevenson + explains the course of the story to his father, who had taken the + deepest interest in it since they visited together the scene of the + Appin murder. + + [_Skerryvore, Bournemouth, January 25, 1886._] + +MY DEAR FATHER,--Many thanks for a letter quite like yourself. I quite +agree with you, and had already planned a scene of religion in +_Balfour_; the Society for the Propagation of Christian Knowledge +furnishes me with a catechist whom I shall try to make the man. I have +another catechist, the blind, pistol-carrying highway robber, whom I +have transferred from the Long Island to Mull. I find it a most +picturesque period, and wonder Scott let it escape. The _Covenant_ is +lost on one of the Tarrans, and David is cast on Earraid, where (being +from inland) he is nearly starved before he finds out the island is +tidal; then he crosses Mull to Toronsay, meeting the blind catechist by +the way; then crosses Morven from Kinlochaline to Kingairloch, where he +stays the night with the good catechist; that is where I am; next day he +is to be put ashore in Appin, and be present at Colin Campbell's death. +To-day I rest, being a little run down. Strange how liable we are to +brain fag in this scooty family! But as far as I have got, all but the +last chapter, I think David is on his feet, and (to my mind) a far +better story and far sounder at heart than _Treasure Island_. + +I have no earthly news, living entirely in my story, and only coming out +of it to play patience. The Shelleys are gone; the Taylors kinder than +can be imagined. The other day, Lady Taylor drove over and called on +me; she is a delightful old lady, and great fun. I mentioned a story +about the Duchess of Wellington--which I had heard Sir Henry tell; and +though he was very tired, he looked it up and copied it out for me in +his own hand.--Your most affectionate son, + + ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. + + + + +TO C. W. STODDARD + + + _Skerryvore, Bournemouth, Feb. 13th, 1886._ + +MY DEAR STODDARD,--I am a dreadful character; but, you see, I have at +last taken pen in hand; how long I may hold it, God knows. This is +already my sixth letter to-day, and I have many more waiting; and my +wrist gives me a jog on the subject of scrivener's cramp, which is not +encouraging. + +I gather you were a little down in the jaw when you wrote your last. I +am as usual pretty cheerful, but not very strong. I stay in the house +all winter, which is base; but, as you continue to see, the pen goes +from time to time, though neither fast enough nor constantly enough to +please me. + +My wife is at Bath with my father and mother, and the interval of +widowery explains my writing. Another person writing for you when you +have done work is a great enemy to correspondence. To-day I feel out of +health, and shan't work; and hence this so much over-due reply. + +I was re-reading some of your _South Sea Idyls_ the other day: some of +the chapters are very good indeed; some pages as good as they can be. + +How does your class get along? If you like to touch on _Otto_, any day +in a by-hour, you may tell them--as the author's last dying +confession--that it is a strange example of the difficulty of being +ideal in an age of realism; that the unpleasant giddy-mindedness, which +spoils the book and often gives it a wanton air of unreality and +juggling with air-bells, comes from unsteadiness of key; from the too +great realism of some chapters and passages--some of which I have now +spotted, others I dare say I shall never spot--which disprepares the +imagination for the cast of the remainder. + +Any story can be made _true_ in its own key; any story can be made +_false_ by the choice of a wrong key of detail or style: _Otto_ is made +to reel like a drunken--I was going to say man, but let us substitute +cipher--by the variations of the key. Have you observed that the famous +problem of realism and idealism is one purely of detail? Have you seen +my _Note on Realism_ in Cassell's Magazine of Art; and _Elements of +Style_ in the Contemporary; and _Romance_ and _Humble Apology_ in +Longman's? They are all in your line of business; let me know what you +have not seen and I'll send 'em. + +I am glad I brought the old house up to you. It was a pleasant old spot, +and I remember you there, though still more dearly in your own strange +den upon a hill in San Francisco; and one of the most San Francisco-y +parts of San Francisco. + +Good-bye, my dear fellow, and believe me your friend, + + ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. + + + + +TO EDMUND GOSSE + + Concerning the payment which Mr. Gosse had procured him from an + American magazine for the set of verses addressed to Mr. Low (see + above, p. 172). + + [_Skerryvore, Bournemouth, Feb. 17, 1886._] + +DEAR GOSSE,--Non, c'est honteux! for a set of shambling lines that don't +know whether they're trochees or what they are, that you or any of the +crafty ones would blush all over if you had so much as thought upon, all +by yourselves, in the water-closet. But God knows, I am glad enough of +five pounds; and this is almost as honest a way to get it as plain +theft, so what should I care?--Ever yours, + + R. L. S. + + + + +TO J. A. SYMONDS + + + _Skerryvore, Bournemouth [Spring 1886]._ + +MY DEAR SYMONDS,--If we have lost touch, it is (I think) only in a +material sense; a question of letters, not hearts. You will find a warm +welcome at Skerryvore from both the lightkeepers; and, indeed, we never +tell ourselves one of our financial fairy tales, but a run to Davos is a +prime feature. I am not changeable in friendship; and I think I can +promise you you have a pair of trusty well-wishers and friends in +Bournemouth: whether they write or not is but a small thing; the flag +may not be waved, but it is there. + +_Jekyll_ is a dreadful thing, I own; but the only thing I feel dreadful +about is that damned old business of the war in the members. This time +it came out; I hope it will stay in, in future. + +Raskolnikoff[17] is easily the greatest book I have read in ten years; I +am glad you took to it. Many find it dull: Henry James could not finish +it: all I can say is, it nearly finished me. It was like having an +illness. James did not care for it because the character of Raskolnikoff +was not objective; and at that I divined a great gulf between us, and, on +further reflection, the existence of a certain impotence in many minds of +to-day, which prevents them from living in a book or a character, and +keeps them standing afar off, spectators of a puppet show. To such I +suppose the book may seem empty in the centre; to the others it is a +room, a house of life, into which they themselves enter, and are tortured +and purified. The Juge d'Instruction I thought a wonderful, weird, +touching, ingenious creation: the drunken father, and Sonia, and the +student friend, and the uncircumscribed, protoplasmic humanity of +Raskolnikoff, all upon a level that filled me with wonder: the execution +also, superb in places. Another has been translated--_Humilies et +Offenses_. It is even more incoherent than _Le Crime et le Chatiment_, +but breathes much of the same lovely goodness, and has passages of power. +Dostoieffsky is a devil of a swell, to be sure. Have you heard that he +became a stout, imperialist conservative? It is interesting to know. To +something of that side, the balance leans with me also in view of the +incoherency and incapacity of all. The old boyish idea of the march on +Paradise being now out of season, and all plans and ideas that I hear +debated being built on a superb indifference to the first principles of +human character, a helpless desire to acquiesce in anything of which I +know the worst assails me. Fundamental errors in human nature of two +sorts stand on the skyline of all this modern world of aspirations. +First, that it is happiness that men want; and second, that happiness +consists of anything but an internal harmony. Men do not want, and I do +not think they would accept, happiness; what they live for is rivalry, +effort, success--the elements our friends wish to eliminate. And, on the +other hand, happiness is a question of morality--or of immorality, there +is no difference--and conviction. Gordon was happy in Khartoum, in his +worst hours of danger and fatigue; Marat was happy, I suppose, in his +ugliest frenzy; Marcus Aurelius was happy in the detested camp; Pepys was +pretty happy, and I am pretty happy on the whole, because we both +somewhat crowingly accepted a _via media_, both liked to attend to our +affairs, and both had some success in managing the same. It is quite an +open question whether Pepys and I ought to be happy; on the other hand, +there is no doubt that Marat had better be unhappy. He was right (if he +said it) that he was _la misere humaine_, cureless misery--unless perhaps +by the gallows. Death is a great and gentle solvent; it has never had +justice done it, no, not by Whitman. As for those crockery chimney-piece +ornaments, the bourgeois (_quorum pars_), and their cowardly dislike of +dying and killing, it is merely one symptom of a thousand how utterly +they have got out of touch of life. Their dislike of capital punishment +and their treatment of their domestic servants are for me the two +flaunting emblems of their hollowness. + +God knows where I am driving to. But here comes my lunch. + +Which interruption, happily for you, seems to have stayed the issue. I +have now nothing to say, that had formerly such a pressure of twaddle. +Pray don't fail to come this summer. It will be a great disappointment, +now it has been spoken of, if you do,--Yours ever, + + ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. + + + + +TO F. W. H. MYERS + + + In reply to a paper of criticisms on _Jekyll and Hyde_. + + _Skerryvore, Bournemouth, March 1st, 1886._ + +MY DEAR SIR,--I know not how to thank you: this is as handsome as it is +clever. With almost every word I agree--much of it I even knew +before--much of it, I must confess, would never have been, if I had been +able to do what I like, and lay the thing by for the matter of a year. +But the wheels of Byles the Butcher drive exceeding swiftly, and +_Jekyll_ was conceived, written, re-written, re-rewritten, and printed +inside ten weeks. Nothing but this white-hot haste would explain the +gross error of Hyde's speech at Lanyon's. Your point about the +specialised fiend is more subtle, but not less just: I had not seen +it.--About the picture, I rather meant that Hyde had brought it himself; +and Utterson's hypothesis of the gift (p. 42) an error.--The tidiness of +the room, I thought, but I dare say my psychology is here too ingenious +to be sound, was due to the dread weariness and horror of the +imprisonment. Something has to be done: he would tidy the room. But I +dare say it is false. + +I shall keep your paper; and if ever my works come to be collected, I +will put my back into these suggestions. In the meanwhile, I do truly +lack words in which to express my sense of gratitude for the trouble you +have taken. The receipt of such a paper is more than a reward for my +labours. I have read it with pleasure, and as I say, I hope to use it +with profit.--Believe me, your most obliged, + + ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. + + + + +TO W. H. LOW + + + The following letter relates to a suggestion which Mr. Gilder, as + editor of the Century Magazine, had already made in the Hyeres time + nearly three years previously, and had now lately revived, that + Stevenson and his friend Mr. W. H. Low should make a joint excursion + down the Saone and Rhone, the result to be a book written by R. L. S. + and illustrated by Mr. Low. Considerations of health caused the plan + to be promptly abandoned for the second time. + + [_Skerryvore, Bournemouth, March 1886._] + +MY DEAR LOW,--This is the most enchanting picture. Now understand my +state: I am really an invalid, but of a mysterious order. I might be a +_malade imaginaire_, but for one too tangible symptom, my tendency to +bleed from the lungs. If we could go (_1st_) We must have money enough +to travel with _leisure and comfort_--especially the first. (_2nd_) You +must be prepared for a comrade who would go to bed some part of every +day and often stay silent. (_3rd_) You would have to play the part of a +thoughtful courier, sparing me fatigue, looking out that my bed was +warmed, etc. (_4th_) If you are very nervous, you must recollect a bad +hemorrhage is always on the cards, with its concomitants of anxiety and +horror for those who are beside me. + +Do you blench? If so, let us say no more about it. + +If you are still unafraid, and the money were forthcoming, I believe the +trip might do me good, and I feel sure that, working together, we might +produce a fine book. The Rhone is the river of Angels. I adore it: have +adored it since I was twelve, and first saw it from the train. + +Lastly, it would depend on how I keep from now on. I have stood the +winter hitherto with some credit, but the dreadful weather still +continues, and I cannot holloa till I am through the wood. + +Subject to these numerous and gloomy provisos, I embrace the prospect +with glorious feelings. + +I write this from bed, snow pouring without, and no circumstance of +pleasure except your letter. That, however, counts for much. I am glad +you liked the doggerel: I have already had a liberal cheque, over which +I licked my fingers with a sound conscience. I had not meant to make +money by these stumbling feet, but if it comes, it is only too welcome +in my handsome but impecunious house. + +Let me know soon what is to be expected--as far as it does not hang by +that inconstant quantity, my want of health. Remember me to Madam with +the best thanks and wishes; and believe me your friend, + + ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. + + + + +TO SIDNEY COLVIN + + + Written just before a visit to London; not, this time, as my guest at + the British Museum, but to stay with his father at an hotel in + Fitzroy Square. + + [_Skerryvore, Bournemouth, March 1886._] + +MY DEAR COLVIN,--I have been reading the Vth and VIth Aeneid--the latter +for the first time--and am overpowered. That is one of the most +astonishing pieces of literature, or rather it contains the best, I ever +met with. We are all damned small fry, and Virgil is one of the tops of +human achievement; I never appreciated this; you should have a certain +age to feel this; it is no book for boys, who grind under the lack of +enterprise and dash, and pass ignorantly over miracles of performance +that leave an old hoary-headed practitioner like me stricken down with +admiration. Even as a boy, the Sibyl would have bust me; but I never +read the VIth till I began it two days ago; it is all fresh and +wonderful; do you envy me? If only I knew any Latin! if you had a decent +edition with notes--many notes--I should like well to have it; mine is a +damned Didot with not the ghost of a note, type that puts my eyes out, +and (I suspect) no very splendid text--but there, the carnal feelings of +the man who can't construe are probably parents to the suspicion. + +My dear fellow, I would tenfold rather come to the Monument; but my +father is an old man, and if I go to town, it shall be (this time) for +his pleasure. He has many marks of age, some of childhood; I wish this +knighthood business could come off, though even the talk of it has been +already something, but the change (to my eyes) is thoroughly begun; and +a very beautiful, simple, honourable, high-spirited and child-like (and +childish) man is now in process of deserting us piecemeal. _Si quis +piorum_--God knows, not that he was pious, but he did his hand's darg or +tried to do it; and if not,--well, it is a melancholy business.--Yours +ever, + + R. L. S. + + + + +TO MRS. FLEEMING JENKIN + + + The first letter showing Stevenson's new interest in the + technicalities of music. + + [_Skerryvore, Bournemouth, March 1886._] + +MY DEAR MRS. JENKIN,--I try to tell myself it is good nature, but I know +it is vanity that makes me write. + +I have drafted the first part of Chapter VI., Fleeming and his friends, +his influence on me, his views on religion and literature, his part at +the Savile; it should boil down to about ten pages, and I really do +think it admirably good. It has so much evoked Fleeming for myself that +I found my conscience stirred just as it used to be after a serious talk +with him: surely that means it is good? I had to write and tell you, +being alone. + +I have excellent news of Fanny, who is much better for the change. My +father is still very yellow, and very old, and very weak, but yesterday +he seemed happier, and smiled, and followed what was said; even laughed, +I think. When he came away, he said to me, "Take care of yourself, my +dearie," which had a strange sound of childish days, and will not leave +my mind. + +You must get Litolf's _Gavottes Celebres_: I have made another trover +there: a musette of Lully's. The second part of it I have not yet got +the hang of; but the first--only a few bars! The gavotte is beautiful +and pretty hard, I think, and very much of the period; and at the end of +it, this musette enters with the most really thrilling effect of simple +beauty. O--it's first-rate. I am quite mad over it. If you find other +books containing Lully, Rameau, Martini, please let me know; also you +might tell me, you who know Bach, where the easiest is to be found. I +write all morning, come down, and never leave the piano till about five; +write letters, dine, get down again about eight, and never leave the +piano till I go to bed. This is a fine life.--Yours most sincerely, + + R. L. S. + + +If you get the musette (Lully's), please tell me if I am right, and it +was probably written for strings. Anyway, it is as neat as--as neat as +Bach--on the piano; or seems so to my ignorance. + +I play much of the Rigadoon; but it's strange, it don't come off _quite_ +so well with me! + +[Illustration] + +There is the first part of the musette copied (from memory, so I hope +there's nothing wrong). Is it not angelic? But it ought, of course, to +have the gavotte before. The gavotte is in G, and ends on the keynote +thus (if I remember):-- + +[Illustration] + +staccato, I think. Then you sail into the musette. + + +_N.B._--Where I have put an "A" is that a dominant eleventh, or what? or +just a seventh on the D? and if the latter, is that allowed? It sounds +very funny. Never mind all my questions; if I begin about music (which +is my leading ignorance and curiosity), I have always to babble +questions: all my friends know me now, and take no notice whatever. The +whole piece is marked allegro; but surely could easily be played too +fast? The dignity must not be lost; the periwig feeling. + + + + +TO SIDNEY COLVIN + + + Written after his return from an excursion to Matlock with his + father, following on their visit to London. "The verses" means + _Underwoods_. The suppressed poem is that headed "To ----," + afterwards printed in _Songs of Travel_. + + [_Skerryvore, Bournemouth, April 1886._] + +MY DEAR COLVIN,--This is to announce to you, what I believe should have +been done sooner, that we are at Skerryvore. We were both tired, and I +was fighting my second cold, so we came straight through by the west. + +We have a butler! He doesn't buttle, but the point of the thing is the +style. When Fanny gardens, he stands over her and looks genteel. He +opens the door, and I am told waits at table. Well, what's the odds; I +shall have it on my tomb--"He ran a butler." + + He may have been this and that, + A drunkard or a guttler; + He may have been bald and fat-- + At least he kept a butler. + + He may have sprung from ill or well, + From Emperor or sutler; + He may be burning now in Hell-- + On earth he kept a butler. + +I want to tell you also that I have suppressed your poem. I shall send +it you for yourself, and I hope you will agree with me that it was not +good enough in point of view of merit, and a little too intimate as +between you and me. I would not say less of you, my friend, but I scarce +care to say so much in public while we live. A man may stand on his own +head; it is not fair to set his friend on a pedestal. + +The verses are now at press; I have written a damn fine ballad.--And I +am, dear S. C., ever yours, + + TOMNODDY. + + + + +TO THOMAS STEVENSON + + + Want of health preventing the author at this time from carrying the + adventures of David Balfour, as narrated in _Kidnapped_, through to + their issue as originally designed, it was resolved to wind them up + for the present with the discomfiture of the wicked uncle, leaving + open the possibility of a sequel, which was supplied six years later + in _Catriona_. + + [_Skerryvore, Bournemouth, April 1886._] + +MY DEAR FATHER,--The David problem has to-day been decided. I am to +leave the door open for a sequel if the public take to it, and this will +save me from butchering a lot of good material to no purpose. Your +letter from Carlisle was pretty like yourself, sir, as I was pleased to +see; the hand of Jekyll, not the hand of Hyde. I am for action quite +unfit, and even a letter is beyond me; so pray take these scraps at a +vast deal more than their intrinsic worth. I am in great spirits about +David, Colvin agreeing with Henley, Fanny, and myself in thinking it far +the most human of my labours hitherto. As to whether the long-eared +British public may take to it, all think it more than doubtful; I wish +they would, for I could do a second volume with ease and pleasure, and +Colvin thinks it sin and folly to throw away David and Alan Breck upon +so small a field as this one.--Ever your affectionate son, + + R. L. S. + + + + +TO MISS MONROE + + + The next is in answer to criticisms on _Prince Otto_ received from a + lady correspondent in Chicago. + + _Skerryvore, Bournemouth, May 25th, 1886._ + +DEAR MISS MONROE,--(I hope I have this rightly) I must lose no time in +thanking you for a letter singularly pleasant to receive. It may +interest you to know that I read to the signature without suspecting my +correspondent was a woman; though in one point (a reference to the +Countess) I might have found a hint of the truth. You are not pleased +with Otto; since I judge you do not like weakness; and no more do I. And +yet I have more than tolerance for Otto, whose faults are the faults of +weakness, but never of ignoble weakness, and who seeks before all to be +both kind and just. Seeks, not succeeds. But what is man? So much of +cynicism to recognise that nobody does right is the best equipment for +those who do not wish to be cynics in good earnest. Think better of +Otto, if my plea can influence you; and this I mean for your own +sake--not his, poor fellow, as he will never learn your opinion; but for +yours, because, as men go in this world (and women too), you will not go +far wrong if you light upon so fine a fellow; and to light upon one and +not perceive his merits is a calamity. In the flesh, of course, I mean; +in the book the fault, of course, is with my stumbling pen. Seraphina +made a mistake about her Otto; it begins to swim before me dimly that +you may have some traits of Seraphina? + +With true ingratitude you see me pitch upon your exception; but it is +easier to defend oneself gracefully than to acknowledge praise. I am +truly glad that you should like my books; for I think I see from what +you write that you are a reader worth convincing. Your name, if I have +properly deciphered it, suggests that you may be also something of my +countrywoman; for it is hard to see where Monroe came from, if not from +Scotland. I seem to have here a double claim on your good nature: being +myself pure Scotch and having appreciated your letter, make up two +undeniable merits which, perhaps, if it should be quite without trouble, +you might reward with your photograph.--Yours truly, + + ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. + + + + +TO SIDNEY COLVIN + + + Evidently written about the 10th of June, very soon after the + decision of Mr. Gladstone to dissolve Parliament on the defeat of the + Home Rule Bill (June 8). As to the _Travelling Companion_, see above, + p. 68. + + [_Skerryvore, Bournemouth, June 1886._] + +MY DEAR COLVIN,--I am in bed again--bloodie jackery and be damned to it. +Lloyd is better, I think; and money matters better; only my rascal +carcase, and the muddy and oily lees of what was once my immortal soul +are in a poor and pitiful condition. + + LITANY + Damn the political situation + " you + " me + and + " Gladstone. + +I am a kind of dam home ruler, worse luck to it. I would support almost +anything but that bill. How am I to vote? Great Caesar's Ghost!--Ever +yours, + + R. L. S. + + +O! the _Travelling Companion_ won't do; I am back on it entirely: it is +a foul, gross, bitter, ugly daub, with lots of stuff in it, and no +urbanity and no glee and no true tragedy--to the crows with it, a +carrion tale! I will do no more carrion, I have done too much in this +carrion epoch; I will now be clean; and by clean, I don't mean any folly +about purity, but such things as a healthy man with his bowels open +shall find fit to see and speak about without a pang of nausea.--I am, +yours, + + A REPENTANT DANKIST. + + +The lakeists, the drainists, the brookists, and the riverites; let me be +a brookist, _faute de mieux_. + +I did enjoy myself in town, and was a thousandfold the better of it. + + + + +TO MISS MONROE + + + [_Skerryvore, Bournemouth, June 1886._] + +MY DEAR MISS MONROE,--I am ill in bed and stupid, incoherently stupid; +yet I have to answer your letter, and if the answer is incomprehensible +you must forgive me. You say my letter caused you pleasure; I am sure, +as it fell out, not near so much as yours has brought to me. The +interest taken in an author is fragile: his next book, or your next year +of culture, might see the interest frosted or outgrown; and himself, in +spite of all, you might probably find the most distasteful person upon +earth. My case is different. I have bad health, am often condemned to +silence for days together--was so once for six weeks, so that my voice +was awful to hear when I first used it, like the whisper of a +shadow--have outlived all my chief pleasures, which were active and +adventurous, and ran in the open air: and being a person who prefers +life to art, and who knows it is a far finer thing to be in love, or to +risk a danger, than to paint the finest picture or write the noblest +book, I begin to regard what remains to me of my life as very shadowy. +From a variety of reasons, I am ashamed to confess I was much in this +humour when your letter came. I had a good many troubles; was regretting +a high average of sins; had been recently reminded that I had outlived +some friends, and wondering if I had not outlived some friendships; and +had just, while boasting of better health, been struck down again by my +haunting enemy, an enemy who was exciting at first, but has now, by the +iteration of his strokes, become merely annoying and inexpressibly +irksome. Can you fancy that to a person drawing towards the elderly this +sort of conjunction of circumstances brings a rather aching sense of the +past and the future? Well, it was just then that your letter and your +photograph were brought to me in bed; and there came to me at once the +most agreeable sense of triumph. My books were still young; my words had +their good health and could go about the world and make themselves +welcome; and even (in a shadowy and distant sense) make something in the +nature of friends for the sheer hulk that stays at home and bites his +pen over the manuscripts. It amused me very much to remember that I had +been in Chicago, not so many years ago, in my proper person; where I had +failed to awaken much remark, except from the ticket collector; and to +think how much more gallant and persuasive were the fellows that I now +send instead of me, and how these are welcome in that quarter to the +sitter of Herr Platz, while their author was not very welcome even in +the villainous restaurant where he tried to eat a meal and rather +failed. + +And this leads me directly to a confession. The photograph which shall +accompany this is not chosen as the most like, but the best-looking. +Put yourself in my place, and you will call this pardonable. Even as it +is, even putting forth a flattered presentment, I am a little pained; +and very glad it is a photograph and not myself that has to go; for in +this case, if it please you, you can tell yourself it is my image--and +if it displease you, you can lay the blame on the photographer; but in +that, there were no help, and the poor author might belie his labours. + +_Kidnapped_ should soon appear; I am afraid you may not like it, as it +is very unlike _Prince Otto_ in every way; but I am myself a great +admirer of the two chief characters, Alan and David. _Virginibus +Puerisque_ has never been issued in the States. I do not think it is a +book that has much charm for publishers in any land; but I am to bring +out a new edition in England shortly, a copy of which I must try to +remember to send you. I say try to remember, because I have some +superficial acquaintance with myself: and I have determined, after a +galling discipline, to promise nothing more until the day of my death: +at least, in this way, I shall no more break my word, and I must now try +being churlish instead of being false. + +I do not believe you to be the least like Seraphina. Your photograph has +no trace of her, which somewhat relieves me, as I am a good deal afraid +of Seraphinas--they do not always go into the woods and see the sunrise, +and some are so well-mailed that even that experience would leave them +unaffected and unsoftened. The "hair and eyes of several complexions" +was a trait taken from myself; and I do not bind myself to the opinions +of Sir John. In this case, perhaps--but no, if the peculiarity is shared +by two such pleasant persons as you and I (as you and me--the +grammatical nut is hard), it must be a very good thing indeed, and Sir +John must be an ass. + +The Book Reader notice was a strange jumble of fact and fancy. I wish +you could have seen my father's old assistant and present partner when +he heard my father described as an "inspector of lighthouses," for we +are all very proud of the family achievements, and the name of my house +here in Bournemouth is stolen from one of the sea-towers of the Hebrides +which are our pyramids and monuments. I was never at Cambridge, again; +but neglected a considerable succession of classes at Edinburgh. But to +correct that friendly blunderer were to write an autobiography.--And so +now, with many thanks, believe me yours sincerely, + + ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. + + + + +TO ALISON CUNNINGHAM + + + Accompanying a presentation copy of _Kidnapped_. Alison Cunningham's + maiden name had been Hastie. + + [_Bournemouth, July 1886._] + +MY DEAR CUMMY,--Herewith goes my new book, in which you will find some +places that you know: I hope you will like it: I do. The name of the +girl at Limekilns (as will appear if the sequel is ever written) was +Hastie, and I conceive she was an ancestor of yours: as David was no +doubt some kind of relative of mine. + +I have no time for more, but send my love, and remembrances to your +brother.--Ever your affectionate + + R. L. S. + + + + +TO R. A. M. STEVENSON + + + During these months, as already indicated, Stevenson was very much + taken up, in by-hours, with trying to learn something of the theory + and practice of music, and spent much of his time "pickling," as he + called it, in an elementary manner on the piano. He even tried his + hand in an experimental way at composition, and had sent one of his + attempts for criticism to his cousin, Mr. R. A. M. Stevenson, who was + better versed in the art. + + _Skerryvore, Bournemouth, July 1886._ + +SIR,--Your foolish letter was unduly received. There may be hidden +fifths, and if there are, it shows how dam spontaneous the thing was. I +could tinker and tic-tac-toe on a piece of paper, but scorned the act +with a Threnody, which was poured forth like blood and water on the +groaning organ. If your heart (which was what I addressed) remained +unmoved, let us refer to the affair no more: crystallised emotion, the +statement and the reconciliation of the sorrows of the race and the +individual, is obviously no more to you than supping sawdust. Well, +well. If ever I write another Threnody! My next op. will probably be a +Passepied and fugue in G (or D). + +The mind is in my case shrunk to the size and sp. gr. of an aged Spanish +filbert. O, I am so jolly silly. I now pickle with some freedom (1) the +refrain of _Martini's Moutons_; (2) _Sul margine d'un rio_, arranged for +the infant school by the Aged Statesman; (3) the first phrase of Bach's +musette (Sweet Englishwoman,[18] No. 3), the rest of the musette being +one prolonged cropper, which I take daily for the benefit of my health. +All my other works (of which there are many) are either arranged (by R. +L. Stevenson) for the manly and melodious forefinger, or else prolonged +and melancholy croppers.... I find one can get a notion of music very +nicely. I have been pickling deeply in the Magic Flute; and have +arranged _La dove prende_, almost to the end, for two melodious +forefingers. I am next going to score the really nobler _Colomba o +tortorella_ for the same instruments. + + This day is published + The works of Ludwig van Beethoven + arranged + and wiederdurchgearbeiteted + for two melodious forefingers + by, + Sir,--Your obedient servant, + PIMPERLY STIPPLE. + +That's a good idea? There's a person called Lenz who actually does +it--beware his den; I lost eighteenpennies on him, and found the +bleeding corpses of pieces of music divorced from their keys, despoiled +of their graces, and even changed in time; I do not wish to regard music +(nor to be regarded) through that bony Lenz. You say you are "a +spoon-fed idiot"; but how about Lenz? And how about me, sir, me? + +I yesterday sent Lloyd by parcel post, at great expense, an empty +matchbox and empty cigarette-paper book, a bell from a cat's collar, an +iron kitchen spoon, and a piece of coal more than half the superficies +of this sheet of paper. They are now (appropriately enough) speeding +towards the Silly Isles; I hope he will find them useful. By that, and +my telegram with prepaid answer to yourself, you may judge of my +spiritual state. The finances have much brightened; and if _Kidnapped_ +keeps on as it has begun, I may be solvent.--Yours, + + THRENODIAE AVCTOR + (The author of ane Threnodie). + + +Op. 2: Scherzo (in G Major) expressive of the Sense of favours to come. + + + + +TO R. A. M. STEVENSON + + + _Skerryvore [Bournemouth, July 1886]._ + +DEAR BOB,--Herewith another shy; more melancholy than before, but I +think not so abjectly idiotic. The musical terms seem to be as good as +in Beethoven, and that, after all, is the great affair. Bar the dam +bareness of the bass, it looks like a piece of real music from a +distance. I am proud to say it was not made one hand at a time; the bass +was of synchronous birth with the treble; they are of the same age, sir, +and may God have mercy on their souls!--Yours, + + THE MAESTRO. + + + + +TO MR. AND MRS. THOMAS STEVENSON + + + Mr. and Mrs. T. Stevenson had been thinking of trying a winter at + Bournemouth for the sake of being near their son, a plan which was + eventually carried out. The health of the former was now fast and + painfully breaking. Mr. J. W. Alexander, the well-known American + artist, had been down at Skerryvore with an introduction from Mr. + Gosse, and had made a drawing of Stevenson's head. + + _Skerryvore, Bournemouth, July 7th, 1886._ + +MY DEAR PEOPLE,--It is probably my fault, and not yours, that I did not +understand. I think it would be well worth trying the winter in +Bournemouth; but I would only take the house by the month--this after +mature discussion. My leakage still pursues its course; if I were only +well, I have a notion to go north and get in (if I could) at the inn at +Kirkmichael, which has always smiled upon me much. If I did well there, +we might then meet and do what should most smile at the time. + +Meanwhile, of course, I must not move, and am in a rancid box here, +feeling the heat a great deal, and pretty tired of things. Alexander did +a good thing of me at last; it looks like a mixture of an aztec idol, a +lion, an Indian Rajah, and a woman; and certainly represents a mighty +comic figure. F. and Lloyd both think it is the best thing that has been +done of me up to now. + +You should hear Lloyd on the penny whistle, and me on the piano! Dear +powers, what a concerto! I now live entirely for the piano, he for the +whistle; the neighbours, in a radius of a furlong and a half, are +packing up in quest of brighter climes.--Ever yours, + + R. L. S. + + +_P.S._--Please say if you can afford to let us have money for this trip, +and if so, how much. I can see the year through without help, I believe, +and supposing my health to keep up; but can scarce make this change on +my own metal. + + R. L. S. + + + + +TO CHARLES BAXTER + + + [_Skerryvore, Bournemouth, July 1886._] + +DEAR CHARLES,--Doubtless, if all goes well, towards the 1st of August we +shall be begging at your door. Thanks for a sight of the papers, which I +return (you see) at once, fearing further responsibility. + +Glad you like Dauvit; but eh, man, yon's terrible strange conduc' o' +thon man Rankeillor. Ca' him a legal adviser! It would make a bonny +law-shuit, the Shaws case; and yon paper they signed, I'm thinking, +wouldnae be muckle thought o' by Puggy Deas.--Yours ever, + + R. L. S. + + + + +TO ALISON CUNNINGHAM + + Hecky was a dog belonging to his correspondent's brother. Stevenson + was always interested by his own retentiveness of memory for childish + things, and here asks Cummy some questions to test the quality of + hers. + + [_Skerryvore, Bournemouth, July 1886._] + +MY DEAR CUMMY,--I was sorry to get so poor account of you and Hecky. +Fanny thinks perhaps it might be Hecky's teeth. Sir Walter Simpson has a +very clever vet. I have forgotten his name; but if you like, I send a +card and you or James might ask the address. + +Now to what is more important. Do you remember any of the following +names: Lady Boothroyd, Barny Gee, Andrew Silex, the Steward, Carus +Rearn, Peter Mangles, Richard Markham, Fiddler Dick? Please let me know +and I will tell you how I come to ask. I warn you, you will have to cast +back your eyes a good long way, close upon thirty years, before you +strike the trail on which I wish to lead you. + +When I have had an answer I will write you a decent letter. To-day, +though nothing much is wrong with me, I am out of sorts and most +disinclined for writing.--Yours most affectionately, + + ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. + + + + +TO THOMAS STEVENSON + + + "Coolin," mentioned below, had been a favourite Skye terrier of + Heriot Row days. + + [_Skerryvore, Bournemouth_] _July 28, 1886._ + +MY DEAR FATHER,--We have decided not to come to Scotland, but just to do +as Dobell wished, and take an outing. I believe this is wiser in all +ways; but I own it is a disappointment. I am weary of England; like +Alan, "I weary for the heather," if not for the deer. Lloyd has gone to +Scilly with Katharine and C., where and with whom he should have a good +time. _David_ seems really to be going to succeed, which is a pleasant +prospect on all sides. I am, I believe, floated financially; a book that +sells will be a pleasant novelty. I enclose another review; mighty +complimentary, and calculated to sell the book too. + +Coolin's tombstone has been got out, honest man! and it is to be +polished, for it has got scratched, and have a touch of gilding in the +letters, and be sunk in the front of the house. Worthy man, he, too, +will maybe weary for the heather, and the bents of Gullane, where (as I +dare say you remember) he gaed clean gyte, and jumped on to his crown +from a gig, in hot and hopeless chase of many thousand rabbits. I can +still hear the little cries of the honest fellow as he disappeared; and +my mother will correct me, but I believe it was two days before he +turned up again at North Berwick: to judge by his belly, he had caught +not one out of these thousands, but he had had some exercise. + +I keep well.--Ever your affectionate son, + + R. L. S. + + + + +TO ALISON CUNNINGHAM + + + Anticipating the gift of a cupboard and answering the questions set + in his last. The date of the readings had been his seventh year. Mr. + Galpin was a partner in Cassell, Petter, Galpin, & Co. + + [_Skerryvore, Bournemouth, July or August 1886._] + +MY DEAR CUMMY,--The cupboard has not yet turned up, and I was hanging on +to be able to say it had. However, that is only a trick to escape +another letter, and I should despise myself if I kept it up. It was +truly kind of you, dear Cummy, to send it to us: and I will let you know +where we set it and how it looks. + +Carus Rearn and Andrew Silex and the others were from a story you read +me in Cassell's Family Paper, and which I have been reading again and +found by no means a bad story. Mr. Galpin lent me all the old volumes, +and I mean to re-read Custaloga also, but have not yet. It was strangely +like old times to read the other; don't you remember the poisoning with +mushrooms? That was Andrew Silex.--Yours most affectionately, + + R. L. S. + + + + +TO MRS. THOMAS STEVENSON + + + Having given up going to Scotland for a summer change, Stevenson had + started on the "outing" which he mentions in the last letter. It took + the shape of a ten days' visit to my house at the British Museum, + followed by another made in the company of Mr. Henley to Paris, + chiefly for the sake of seeing the W. H. Lows and the sculptor Rodin. + + _British Museum [August 10th, 1886]._ + +MY DEAR MOTHER,--We are having a capital holiday, and I am much better, +and enjoying myself to the nines. Richmond is painting my portrait. +To-day I lunch with him, and meet Burne-Jones; to-night Browning dines +with us. That sounds rather lofty work, does it not? His path was paved +with celebrities. To-morrow we leave for Paris, and next week, I +suppose, or the week after, come home. Address here, as we may not +reach Paris. I am really very well.--Ever your affectionate son, + + R. L. S. + + + + +TO T. WATTS-DUNTON + + + Written after his return from London and Paris. + + _Skerryvore, Bournemouth [September 1886]._ + +DEAR MR. WATTS,--The sight of the last Athenaeum reminds me of you, and +of my debt, now too long due. I wish to thank you for your notice of +_Kidnapped_; and that not because it was kind, though for that also I +valued it, but in the same sense as I have thanked you before now for a +hundred articles on a hundred different writers. A critic like you is +one who fights the good fight, contending with stupidity, and I would +fain hope not all in vain; in my own case, for instance, surely not in +vain. + +What you say of the two parts in _Kidnapped_ was felt by no one more +painfully than by myself. I began it partly as a lark, partly as a +pot-boiler; and suddenly it moved, David and Alan stepped out from the +canvas, and I found I was in another world. But there was the cursed +beginning, and a cursed end must be appended; and our old friend Byles +the butcher was plainly audible tapping at the back door. So it had to +go into the world, one part (as it does seem to me) alive, one part +merely galvanised: no work, only an essay. For a man of tentative +method, and weak health, and a scarcity of private means, and not too +much of that frugality which is the artist's proper virtue, the days of +sinecures and patrons look very golden: the days of professional +literature very hard. Yet I do not so far deceive myself as to think I +should change my character by changing my epoch; the sum of virtue in +our books is in a relation of equality to the sum of virtues in +ourselves; and my _Kidnapped_ was doomed, while still in the womb and +while I was yet in the cradle, to be the thing it is. + +And now to the more genial business of defence. You attack my fight on +board the _Covenant_: I think it literal. David and Alan had every +advantage on their side--position, arms, training, a good conscience; a +handful of merchant sailors, not well led in the first attack, not led +at all in the second, could only by an accident have taken the +round-house by attack; and since the defenders had firearms and food, it +is even doubtful if they could have been starved out. The only doubtful +point with me is whether the seamen would have ever ventured on the +second onslaught; I half believe they would not; still the illusion of +numbers and the authority of Hoseason would perhaps stretch far enough +to justify the extremity.--I am, dear Mr. Watts, your very sincere +admirer, + + ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. + + + + +TO ALISON CUNNINGHAM + + + _Skerryvore, Bournemouth, September 1886._ + +MY DEAR CUMMY,--I am home from a long holiday, vastly better in health. +My wife not home yet, as she is being cured in some rather boisterous +fashion by some Swedish doctors. I hope it may do her good, as the +process seems not to be agreeable in itself. + +Your cupboard has come, and it is most beautiful: it is certainly worth +a lot of money, and is just what we have been looking for in all the +shops for quite a while: so your present falls very pat. It is to go in +our bedroom I think; but perhaps my wife will think it too much of a +good thing to be put so much out of the way, so I shall not put it in +its place till her return. I am so well that I am afraid to speak of it, +being a coward as to boasting. I take walks in the wood daily, and have +got back to my work after a long break. The story I wrote you about was +one you read to me in Cassell's Family Paper long ago when it came out. +It was astonishing how clearly I remembered it all, pictures, +characters, and incidents, though the last were a little mixed and I had +not the least the hang of the story. It was very pleasant to read it +again, and remember old days, and the weekly excursion to Mrs. Hoggs +after that precious journal. Dear me, lang syne now! God bless you, dear +Cummy.--Your afft. boy, + + R. L. STEVENSON. + + + + +TO FREDERICK LOCKER-LAMPSON + + Mr. Locker-Lampson, better known as Frederick Locker, the friend of + Tennyson and most accomplished writer of _vers de societe_ in his + time, had through their common friend Mr. Andrew Lang asked Stevenson + for a set of verses, and he had sent the following--which were first + printed, I believe, at the head of a very scarce volume:--"_Rowfant + Rhymes_, by Frederick Locker, with an introduction by Austin Dobson. + Cleveland, The Rowfant Club, 1895. 127 copies only printed." + + _Skerryvore, September 4, 1886._ + + Not roses to the rose, I trow, + The thistle sends, nor to the bee + Do wasps bring honey. Wherefore now + Should Locker ask a verse from me? + + Martial, perchance,--but he is dead, + And Herrick now must rhyme no more; + Still burning with the muse, they tread + (And arm in arm) the shadowy shore. + + They, if they lived, with dainty hand, + To music as of mountain brooks, + Might bring you worthy words to stand + Unshamed, dear Locker, in your books. + + But tho' these fathers of your race + Be gone before, yourself a sire, + To-day you see before your face + Your stalwart youngsters touch the lyre. + + On these--on Lang or Dobson--call, + Long leaders of the songful feast. + They lend a verse your laughing fall-- + A verse they owe you at the least. + + + + +TO FREDERICK LOCKER-LAMPSON + + + To Mr. Locker's acknowledgment of these verses Stevenson replied as + follows, asking his correspondent's interest on behalf of a friend + who had been kind to him at Hyeres, in procuring a nomination for her + son to the Blue-Coat School. + + _Skerryvore, Bournemouth, September 1886._ + +DEAR LOCKER,--You take my verses too kindly, but you will admit, for +such a bluebottle of a versifier to enter the house of Gertrude, where +her necklace hangs, was not a little brave. Your kind invitation, I +fear, must remain unaccepted; and yet--if I am very well--perhaps next +spring--(for I mean to be very well)--my wife might.... But all that is +in the clouds with my better health. And now look here: you are a rich +man and know many people, therefore perhaps some of the Governors of +Christ's Hospital. If you do, I know a most deserving case, in which I +would (if I could) do anything. To approach you, in this way, is not +decent; and you may therefore judge by my doing it, how near this matter +lies to my heart. I enclose you a list of the Governors, which I beg you +to return, whether or not you shall be able to do anything to help me. + +The boy's name is ----; he and his mother are very poor. It may interest +you in her cause if I tell you this: that when I was dangerously ill at +Hyeres, this brave lady, who had then a sick husband of her own (since +dead) and a house to keep and a family of four to cook for, all with her +own hands, for they could afford no servant, yet took watch-about with +my wife, and contributed not only to my comfort, but to my recovery in a +degree that I am not able to limit. You can conceive how much I suffer +from my impotence to help her, and indeed I have already shown myself a +thankless friend. Let not my cry go up before you in vain!--Yours in +hope, + + ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. + + + + +TO FREDERICK LOCKER-LAMPSON + + + Mr. Locker, apparently misunderstanding the application, had replied + with a cheque. + + _Skerryvore, Bournemouth, September 1886._ + +MY DEAR LOCKER,--That I should call myself a man of letters, and land +myself in such unfathomable ambiguities! No, my dear Locker, I did not +want a cheque; and in my ignorance of business, which is greater even +than my ignorance of literature, I have taken the liberty of drawing a +pen through the document and returning it; should this be against the +laws of God or man, forgive me. All that I meant by my excessively +disgusting reference to your material well-being was the vague notion +that a man who is well off was sure to know a Governor of Christ's +Hospital; though how I quite arrived at this conclusion I do not see. A +man with a cold in the head does not necessarily know a ratcatcher; and +the connection is equally close--as it now appears to my awakened and +somewhat humbled spirit. For all that, let me thank you in the warmest +manner for your friendly readiness to contribute. You say you have hopes +of becoming a miser: I wish I had; but indeed I believe you deceive +yourself, and are as far from it as ever. I wish I had any excuse to +keep your cheque, for it is much more elegant to receive than to return; +but I have my way of making it up to you, and I do sincerely beg you to +write to the two Governors. This extraordinary out-pouring of +correspondence would (if you knew my habits) convince you of my great +eagerness in this matter. I would promise gratitude; but I have made a +promise to myself to make no more promises to anybody else, having +broken such a host already, and come near breaking my heart in +consequence; and as for gratitude, I am by nature a thankless dog, and +was spoiled from a child up. But if you can help this lady in the matter +of the Hospital, you will have helped the worthy. Let me continue to +hope that I shall make out my visit in the spring, and believe me, yours +very truly, + + ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. + + +It may amuse you to know that a very long while ago, I broke my heart to +try to imitate your verses, and failed hopelessly. I saw some of the +evidences the other day among my papers, and blushed to the heels. + + R. L. S. + + +I give up finding out your name in the meantime, and keep to that by +which you will be known--Frederick Locker. + + + + +TO FREDERICK LOCKER-LAMPSON + + + _[Skerryvore, Bournemouth] 24th September 1886._ + +MY DEAR LOCKER,--You are simply an angel of light, and your two letters +have gone to the post; I trust they will reach the hearts of the +recipients--at least, that could not be more handsomely expressed. About +the cheque: well now, I am going to keep it; but I assure you Mrs. ---- +has never asked me for money, and I would not dare to offer any till she +did. For all that I shall stick to the cheque now, and act to that +amount as your almoner. In this way I reward myself for the ambiguity of +my epistolary style. + +I suppose, if you please, you may say your verses are thin (would you so +describe an arrow, by the way, and one that struck the gold? It scarce +strikes me as exhaustively descriptive), and, thin or not, they are +(and I have found them) inimitably elegant. I thank you again very +sincerely for the generous trouble you have taken in this matter which +was so near my heart, and you may be very certain it will be the fault +of my health and not my inclination, if I do not see you before very +long; for all that has past has made me in more than the official sense +sincerely yours, + + ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. + + + + +TO AUGUSTE RODIN + + Written after another visit to me in London, in November, which had + been cut short by fogs. "Le Printemps" is Rodin's group so called. + + [_Skerryvore, Bournemouth, December 1886._] + +MON CHER AMI,--Il y a bien longtemps deja que je vous dois des lettres +par dizaines; mais bien que je vais mieux, je ne vais toujours que +doucement. Il a fallu faire le voyage a Bournemouth comme une fuite en +Egypte, par crainte des brouillards qui me tuaient; et j'en ressentais +beaucoup de fatigue. Mais maintenant cela commence a aller, et je puis +vous donner de mes nouvelles. + +Le Printemps est arrive, mais il avait le bras casse, et nous l'avons +laisse, lors de notre fuite, aux soins d'un medecin-de-statues. Je +l'attends de jour en jour; et ma maisonette en resplendira bientot. Je +regrette beaucoup le dedicace; peutetre, quand vous viendrez nous voir, +ne serait-il pas trop tard de l'ajouter? Je n'en sais rien, je l'espere. +L'oeuvre, c'est pour tout le monde; le dedicace est pour moi. L'oeuvre +est un cadeau, trop beau meme; c'est le mot d'amitie qui me le donne +pour de bon. Je suis si bete que je m'embrouille, et me perds; mais vous +me comprendrez, je pense. + +Je ne puis meme pas m'exprimer en Anglais; comment voudriez vous que je +le pourrais en Francais? Plus heureux que vous, le Nemesis des arts ne +me visite pas sous le masque du desenchantement; elle me suce +l'intelligence et me laisse bayer aux corneilles, sans capacite mais +sans regret; sans esperance, c'est vrai, mais aussi, Dieu merci, sans +desespoir. Un doux etonnement me tient; je ne m'habitue pas a me trouver +si buche, mais je m'y resigne; meme si cela durait, ce ne serait pas +desagreable--mais comme je mourrais certainement de faim, ce serait tout +au moins regrettable pour moi et ma famille. + +Je voudrais pouvoir vous ecrire; mais ce n'est pas moi qui tiens la +plume--c'est l'autre, le bete, celui qui ne connait pas le Francais, +celui qui n'aime pas mes amis comme je les aime, qui ne goute pas aux +choses de l'art comme j'y goute; celui que je renie, mais auquel je +commande toujours assez pour le faire prendre la plume en main et ecrire +des tristes bavardages. Celui-la, mon cher Rodin, vous ne l'aimez pas; +vous ne devez jamais le connaitre. Votre ami, qui dort a present, comme +un ours, au plus profond de mon etre, se reveillera sous peu. Alors, il +vous ecrira de sa propre main. Attendez lui. L'autre ne compte pas; ce +n'est qu'un secretaire infidele et triste, a l'ame gelee, a la tete de +bois. + +Celui qui dort est toujours, mon cher ami, bien a vous; celui qui ecrit +est charge de vous en faire part et de signer de la raison sociale, + + ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON ET TRIPLE-BRUTE. + + + + +TO SIDNEY COLVIN + + + The following refers first, if I remember right, to some steps that + were being taken to obtain recognition in the form of a knighthood + for the elder Stevenson's public services; next, to the writer's own + work at the time in hand; and lastly, to my volume on Keats then in + preparation for the _English Men of Letters_ series. + + _Skerryvore, Dec. 14, 1886._ + +MY DEAR COLVIN,--This is first-rate of you, the Lord love you for it! I +am truly much obliged. He--my father--is very changeable; at times, he +seems only a slow quiet edition of himself; again, he will be very +heavy and blank; but never so violent as last spring; and therefore, to +my mind, better on the whole. + +Fanny is pretty peepy; I am splendid. I have been writing much +verse--quite the bard, in fact; and also a dam tale to order, which will +be what it will be: I don't love it, but some of it is passable in its +mouldy way, _The Misadventures of John Nicholson_. All my bardly +exercises are in Scotch; I have struck my somewhat ponderous guitar in +that tongue to no small extent: with what success, I know not, but I +think it's better than my English verse; more marrow and fatness, and +more ruggedness. + +How goes _Keats_? Pray remark, if he (Keats) hung back from Shelley, it +was not to be wondered at, _when so many of his friends were Shelley's +pensioners_. I forget if you have made this point; it has been borne in +upon me reading Dowden and the _Shelley Papers_; and it will do no harm +if you have made it. I finished a poem to-day, and writ 3000 words of a +story, _tant bien que mal_; and have a right to be sleepy, and (what is +far nobler and rarer) am so.--My dear Colvin, ever yours, + + THE REAL MACKAY. + + + + +TO LADY TAYLOR + + + Stevenson's volume of tales _The Merry Men_, so called from the story + which heads the collection, was about to appear with a dedication to + Lady Taylor. Professor Dowden's _Shelley_ had lately come out, and + had naturally been read with eager interest in a circle where Sir + Percy (the poet's son) and Lady Shelley were intimate friends and + neighbours. + + _Skerryvore, Bournemouth_ [_New Year, 1887_]. + +MY DEAR LADY TAYLOR,--This is to wish you all the salutations of the +year, with some regret that I cannot offer them in person; yet less than +I had supposed. For hitherto your flight to London seems to have worked +well; and time flies and will soon bring you back again. Though time is +ironical, too; and it would be like his irony if the same tide that +brought you back carried me away. That would not be, at least, without +some meeting. + +I feel very sorry to think the book to which I have put your name will +be no better, and I can make it no better. The tales are of all dates +and places; they are like the box, the goose, and the cottage of the +ferryman; and must go floating down time together as best they can. But +I am after all a (superior) penny-a-liner; I must do, in the Scotch +phrase, as it will do with me; and I cannot always choose what my books +are to be, only seize the chance they offer to link my name to a +friend's. I hope the lot of them (the tales) will look fairly +disciplined when they are clapped in binding; but I fear they will be +but an awkward squad. I have a mild wish that you at least would read +them no further than the dedication. + +I suppose we have all been reading Dowden. It seems to me a really +first-rate book, full of justice, and humour without which there can be +no justice; and of fine intelligence besides. Here and there, perhaps a +trifle precious, but this is to spy flaws in a fine work. I was weary at +my resemblances to Shelley; I seem but a Shelley with less oil, and no +genius; though I have had the fortune to live longer and (partly) to +grow up. He was growing up. There is a manlier note in the last days; in +spite of such really sickening aberrations as the Emillia Viviani +business. I try to take a humorously-genial view of life; but Emillia +Viviani, if I have her detested name aright,[19] is too much for my +philosophy. I cannot smile when I see all these grown folk waltzing and +piping the eye about an insubordinate and perfectly abominable +schoolgirl, as silly and patently as false as Blanche Amory.[20] I +really think it is one of those episodes that make the angels weep. + +With all kind regards and affectionate good wishes to and for you and +yours, believe me, your affectionate friend, + + ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. + + + + +TO LADY TAYLOR + + + The reference in the last paragraph to a "vision" cannot be + explained, his correspondent's daughters retaining no memory on the + subject. + + [_Skerryvore, Bournemouth, January 1887._] + +MY DEAR LADY TAYLOR,--I don't know but what I agree fairly well with all +you say, only I like _The Merry Men_, as a fantasia or vision of the +sea, better than you do. The trouble with _Olalla_ is that it somehow +sounds false; and I think it must be this that gives you the feeling of +irreverence. Of _Thrawn Janet_, which I like very much myself, you say +nothing, thus uttering volumes; but it is plain that people cannot +always agree. I do not think it is a wholesome part of me that broods on +the evil in the world and man; but I do not think that I get harm from +it; possibly my readers may, which is more serious; but at any account, +I do not purpose to write more in this vein. But the odd problem is: +what makes a story true? _Markheim_ is true; _Olalla_ false; and I don't +know why, nor did I feel it while I worked at them; indeed I had more +inspiration with _Olalla_, as the style shows. I am glad you thought +that young Spanish woman well dressed; I admire the style of it myself, +more than is perhaps good for me; it is so solidly written. And that +again brings back (almost with the voice of despair) my unanswerable: +why is it false? + +Here is a great deal about my works. I am in bed again; and my wife but +so-so; and we have no news recently from Lloyd; and the cat is well; and +we see, or I see, no one; so that other matters are all closed against +me. + +Your vision is strange indeed; but I see not how to use it; I fear I am +earthy enough myself to regard it as a case of disease, but certainly it +is a thrilling case to hear of.--Ever affectionately yours, + + ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. + + + + +TO HENRY JAMES + + + This letter is written on the front page of a set of proofs of + _Memories and Portraits_. The "silly Xmas story" is _The + Misadventures of John Nicholson_; the "volume of verse" appeared + later in the year as _Underwoods_. The signature refers to the two + Scots poets of whom, "in his native speech," he considered himself + the follower. + + _Skerryvore, Bournemouth, January 1887._ + + All the salutations! + +MY DEAR JAMES,--I send you the first sheets of the new volume, all that +has yet reached me, the rest shall follow in course. I am really a very +fair sort of a fellow all things considered, have done some work; a +silly Xmas story (with some larks in it) which won't be out till I don't +know when. I am also considering a volume of verse, much of which will +be cast in my native speech, that very dark oracular medium: I suppose +this is a folly, but what then? As the nurse says in Marryat, "It was +only a little one." + +My wife is peepy and dowie: two Scotch expressions with which I will +leave you to wrestle unaided, as a preparation for my poetical works. +She is a woman (as you know) not without art: the art of extracting the +gloom of the eclipse from sunshine; and she has recently laboured in +this field not without success or (as we used to say) not without a +blessing. It is strange: "we fell out my wife and I" the other night; +she tackled me savagely for being a canary-bird; I replied (bleatingly) +protesting that there was no use in turning life into King Lear; +presently it was discovered that there were two dead combatants upon the +field, each slain by an arrow of the truth, and we tenderly carried off +each other's corpses. Here is a little comedy for Henry James to write! +The beauty was each thought the other quite unscathed at first. But we +had dealt shrewd stabs. + +You say nothing of yourself, which I shall take to be good news. +Archer's note has gone. He is, in truth, a very clever fellow that +Archer, and I believe a good one. It is a pleasant thing to see a man +who can use a pen; he can: really says what he means, and says it with a +manner; comes into print like one at his ease, not shame-faced and +wrong-foot-foremost like the bulk of us. Well, here is luck, and here +are the kindest recollections from the canary-bird and from King Lear, +from the Tragic Woman and the Flimsy Man. + + ROBERT RAMSAY FERGUSSON STEVENSON. + + + + +TO FREDERICK LOCKER-LAMPSON + + + Stevenson suffered more even than usual after the turn of the year + and during the spring of 1887, and for several months his + correspondence almost entirely fails. This is in reply to an + invitation to Rowfant for Easter. + + _Skerryvore, Bournemouth, February 5th, 1887._ + +MY DEAR LOCKER,--Here I am in my bed as usual, and it is indeed a long +while since I went out to dinner. You do not know what a crazy fellow +this is. My winter has not so far been luckily passed, and all hope of +paying visits at Easter has vanished for twelve calendar months. But +because I am a beastly and indurated invalid, I am not dead to human +feelings; and I neither have forgotten you nor will forget you. Some day +the wind may round to the right quarter and we may meet; till then I am +still truly yours, + + ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. + + + + +TO HENRY JAMES + + + The volume of tales here mentioned is _The Merry Men_; that of + essays, _Memories and Portraits_; that of verse, _Underwoods_. + + [_Skerryvore, Bournemouth, February 1887._] + +MY DEAR JAMES,--My health has played me it in once more in the absurdest +fashion, and the creature who now addresses you is but a stringy and +white-faced _bouilli_ out of the pot of fever, with the devil to pay in +every corner of his economy. I suppose (to judge by your letter) I need +not send you these sheets, which came during my collapse by the rush. I +am on the start with three volumes, that one of tales, a second one of +essays, and one of--ahem--verse. This is a great order, is it not? After +that I shall have empty lockers. All new work stands still; I was +getting on well with Jenkin when this blessed malady unhorsed me, and +sent me back to the dung-collecting trade of the republisher. I shall +re-issue _Virg. Puer._ as vol. I. of _Essays_, and the new vol. as vol. +II. of ditto; to be sold, however, separately. This is but a dry +maundering; however, I am quite unfit--"I am for action quite unfit +Either of exercise or wit." My father is in a variable state; many +sorrows and perplexities environ the house of Stevenson; my mother +shoots north at this hour on business of a distinctly rancid character; +my father (under my wife's tutorage) proceeds to-morrow to Salisbury; I +remain here in my bed and whistle; in no quarter of heaven is anything +encouraging apparent, except that the good Colvin comes to the hotel +here on a visit. This dreary view of life is somewhat blackened by the +fact that my head aches, which I always regard as a liberty on the part +of the powers that be. This is also my first letter since my recovery. +God speed your laudatory pen! + +My wife joins in all warm messages.--Yours, + + R. L. S. + + + + +TO AUGUSTE RODIN + + + _Skerryvore, Bournemouth, February 1887._ + +MON CHER AMI,--Je vous neglige, et cependant ce n'est veritablement pas +de ma faute. J'ai fait encore une maladie; et je puis dire que je l'ai +royalement bien faite. Que cela vous aide a me pardonner. Certes je ne +vous oublie pas; et je puis dire que je ne vous oublierai jamais. Si je +n'ecris pas, dites que je suis malade--c'est trop souvent vrai, dites +que je suis las d'ecrivailler--ce sera toujours vrai; mais ne dites pas, +et ne pensez pas, que je deviens indifferent. J'ai devant moi votre +portrait tire d'un journal anglais (et encadre a mes frais), et je le +regarde avec amitie, je le regarde meme avec une certaine +complaisance--dirai-je, de faux aloi? comme un certificat de jeunesse. +Je me croyais trop vieux--au moins trop quarante-ans--pour faire de +nouveaux amis; et quand je regarde votre portrait, et quand je pense au +plaisir de vous revoir, je sens que je m'etais trompe. Ecrivez-moi donc +un petit mot, pour me dire que vous ne gardez pas rancune de mon +silence, et que vous comptez bientot venir en Angleterre. Si vous tardez +beaucoup, ce sera moi qui irai vous relancer.--Bien a vous, mon cher +ami, + + R. L. STEVENSON. + + + + +TO W. H. LOW + + + Mr. Low and his wife, who were at this time leaving Paris for good, + had been meditating a visit to the Stevensons at Bournemouth on their + way home to the United States. + + [_April 1887._] + +MY DEAR LOW,--The fares to London may be found in any continental +Bradshaw or sich; from London to Bournemouth impoverished parties who +can stoop to the third class get their ticket for the matter of 10s., +or, as my wife loves to phrase it, "a half a pound." You will also be +involved in a 3s. fare to get to Skerryvore; but this, I dare say, +friends could help you in on your arrival; so that you may reserve your +energies for the two tickets--costing the matter of a pound--and the +usual gratuities to porters. This does not seem to me much: considering +the intellectual pleasures that await you here, I call it dirt cheap. I +_believe_ the third class from Paris to London (_via_ Dover) is _about_ +forty francs, but I cannot swear. Suppose it to be fifty. + + frcs. + 50 x 2 = 100 100 + + The expense of spirit or spontaneous lapse of coin on the journey, + at 5 frcs. a head, 5 x 2 = 10 10 + + Victuals on ditto, at 5 frcs. a head, 5 x 2 = 10 10 + + Gratuity to stewardess, in case of severe prostration, at 3 francs 3 + + One night in London, on a modest footing, say 20 20 + + Two tickets to Bournemouth at 12.50, 12.50 x 2 = 25 25 + + Porters and general devilment, say 5 5 + + Cabs in London, say 2 shillings, and in Bournemouth, + 3 shillings = 5 shillings, 6 frcs. 25 6.25 + ------ + frcs. 179.25 + + Or, the same in pounds, L7, 3s. 6-1/2d. + Or, the same in dollars, $35.45, + +if there be any arithmetical virtue in me. I have left out dinner in +London in case you want to blow out, which would come extry, and with +the aid of _vangs fangs_ might easily double the whole amount--above all +if you have a few friends to meet you. + +In making this valuable project, or budget, I discovered for the first +time a reason (frequently overlooked) for the singular costliness of +travelling with your wife. Anybody would count the tickets double; but +how few would have remembered--or indeed has any one ever +remembered?--to count the spontaneous lapse of coin double also? Yet +there are two of you, each must do his daily leakage, and it must be +done out of your travelling fund. You will tell me, perhaps, that you +carry the coin yourself: my dear sir, do you think you can fool your +Maker? Your wife has to lose her quota; and by God she will--if you kept +the coin in a belt. One thing I have omitted: you will lose a certain +amount on the exchange, but this even I cannot foresee, as it is one of +the few things that vary with the way a man has.--I am, dear sir, yours +financially, + + SAMUEL BUDGETT. + + + + +TO SIDNEY COLVIN + + + I had lately sent him two books, the fifth volume of Huxley's + _Collected Essays_ and Cotter Morison's _Service of Man_: the latter + a work of Positivist tendency, which its genial and accomplished + author had long meditated, but which unfortunately he only began to + write after a rapid decline of health and power had set in. + + [_Skerryvore, Bournemouth, Spring 1887._] + +MY DEAR COLVIN,--I read Huxley, and a lot of it with great interest. Eh, +what a gulf between a man with a mind like Huxley and a man like Cotter +Morison. Truly 'tis the book of a boy; before I was twenty I was done +with all these considerations. Nor is there one happy phrase, except +"the devastating flood of children." Why should he din our ears with +languid repetitions of the very first ideas and facts that a bright lad +gets hold of; and how can a man be so destitute of historical +perspective, so full of cheap outworn generalisations--feudal ages, time +of suffering--_pas tant qu'aujourdhui_, M. Cotter! Christianity--which? +what? how? You must not attack all forms, from Calvin to St. Thomas, +from St. Thomas to (One who should surely be considered) Jesus Christ, +with the same missiles: they do not all tell against all. But there it +is, as we said; a man joins a sect, and becomes one-eyed. He affects a +horror of vices which are just the thing to stop his "devastating flood +of babies," and just the thing above all to keep the vicious from +procreating. Where, then, is the ground of this horror in any +intelligent Servant of Humanity? O, beware of creeds and anti-creeds, +sects and anti-sects. There is but one truth, outside science, the truth +that comes of an earnest, smiling survey of mankind "from China to +Peru," or further, and from to-day to the days of Probably Arboreal; +and the truth (however true it is) that robs you of sympathy with any +form of thought or trait of man, is false for you, and heretical, and +heretico-plastic. Hear Morison struggling with his chains; hear me, hear +all of us, when we suffer our creeds or anti-creeds to degenerate +towards the whine, and begin to hate our neighbours, or our ancestors, +like ourselves. And yet in Morison, too, as in St. Thomas, as in +Rutherford, ay, or in Peden, truth struggles, or it would not so deform +them. The man has not a devil; it is an angel that tears and blinds him. +But Morison's is an old, almost a venerable seraph, with whom I dealt +before I was twenty, and had done before I was twenty-five. + +Behold how the voices of dead preachers speak hollowly (and lengthily) +within me!--Yours ever--and rather better---not much, + + R. L. S. + + + + +TO ALISON CUNNINGHAM + + + _Skerryvore, April 16th, 1887._ + +MY DEAREST CUMMY,--As usual, I have been a dreary bad fellow and not +written for ages; but you must just try to forgive me, to believe (what +is the truth) that the number of my letters is no measure of the number +of times I think of you, and to remember how much writing I have to do. +The weather is bright, but still cold; and my father, I'm afraid, feels +it sharply. He has had--still has, rather--a most obstinate jaundice, +which has reduced him cruelly in strength, and really upset him +altogether. I hope, or think, he is perhaps a little better; but he +suffers much, cannot sleep at night, and gives John and my mother a +severe life of it to wait upon him. My wife is, I think, a little +better, but no great shakes. I keep mightily respectable myself. + +Coolin's Tombstone is now built into the front wall of Skerryvore, and +poor Bogie's (with a Latin inscription also) is set just above it. +Poor, unhappy wee man, he died, as you must have heard, in fight, which +was what he would have chosen; for military glory was more in his line +than the domestic virtues. I believe this is about all my news, except +that, as I write, there is a blackbird singing in our garden trees, as +it were at Swanston. I would like fine to go up the burnside a bit, and +sit by the pool and be young again--or no, be what I am still, only +there instead of here, for just a little. Did you see that I had written +about John Todd? In this month's Longman it was; if you have not seen +it, I will try and send it you. Some day climb as high as Halkerside for +me (I am never likely to do it for myself), and sprinkle some of the +well water on the turf. I am afraid it is a pagan rite, but quite +harmless, and _ye can sain it wi' a bit prayer_. Tell the Peewies that I +mind their forbears well. My heart is sometimes heavy and sometimes glad +to mind it all. But for what we have received, the Lord make us truly +thankful. Don't forget to sprinkle the water, and do it in my name; I +feel a childish eagerness in this. + +Remember me most kindly to James, and with all sorts of love to +yourself, believe me, your laddie, + + ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. + + +_P.S._--I suppose Mrs. Todd ought to see the paper about her man; judge +of that, and if you think she would not dislike it, buy her one from me, +and let me know. The article is called _Pastoral_, in Longman's Magazine +for April. I will send you the money; I would to-day, but it's the +Sabbie day, and I cannae. + + R. L. S. + + +Remembrances from all here. + + + + +TO MRS. FLEEMING JENKIN + + + The following sets forth the _pros_ and _cons_ which were balancing + each other in his mind in regard to his scheme of going to make a + stand in his own person against agrarian outrage in Ireland. + + _[Skerryvore, Bournemouth] April 15 or 16 + (the hour not being known), 1887._ + +MY DEAR MRS. JENKIN,--It is I know not what hour of the night; but I +cannot sleep, have lit the gas, and here goes. + +First, all your packet arrived: I have dipped into the Schumann already +with great pleasure. Surely, in what concerns us there is a sweet little +chirrup; the _Good Words_ arrived in the morning just when I needed it, +and the famous notes that I had lost were recovered also in the nick of +time. + +And now I am going to bother you with my affairs: premising, first, that +this is _private_; second, that whatever I do the _Life_ shall be done +first, and I am getting on with it well; and third, that I do not quite +know why I consult you, but something tells me you will hear with +fairness. + +Here is my problem. The Curtin women are still miserable prisoners; no +one dare buy their farm of them, all the manhood of England and the +world stands aghast before a threat of murder. (1) Now, my work can be +done anywhere; hence I can take up without loss a back-going Irish farm, +and live on, though not (as I had originally written) in it: First +Reason. (2) If I should be killed, there are a good many who would feel +it: writers are so much in the public eye, that a writer being murdered +would attract attention, throw a bull's-eye light upon this cowardly +business: Second Reason. (3) I am not unknown in the States, from which +the funds come that pay for these brutalities: to some faint extent, my +death (if I should be killed) would tell there: Third Reason. (4) +_Nobody else is taking up this obvious and crying duty:_ Fourth Reason. +(5) I have a crazy health and may die at any moment, my life is of no +purchase in an insurance office, it is the less account to husband it, +and the business of husbanding a life is dreary and demoralising: Fifth +Reason. + +I state these in no order, but as they occur to me. And I shall do the +like with the objections. + +First Objection: It will do no good; you have seen Gordon die, and +nobody minded; nobody will mind if you die. This is plainly of the +devil. Second Objection: You will not even be murdered, the climate will +miserably kill you, you will strangle out in a rotten damp heat, in +congestion, etc. Well, what then? It changes nothing: the purpose is to +brave crime; let me brave it, for such time and to such an extent as God +allows. Third Objection: The Curtin women are probably highly +uninteresting females. I haven't a doubt of it. But the Government +cannot, men will not, protect them. If I am the only one to see this +public duty, it is to the public and the Right I should perform it--not +to Mesdames Curtin. Fourth Objection: I am married. "I have married a +wife!" I seem to have heard it before. It smells ancient! what was the +context? Fifth Objection: My wife has had a mean life (1), loves me (2), +could not bear to lose me (3). (1) I admit: I am sorry. (2) But what +does she love me for? and (3) she must lose me soon or late. And after +all, because we run this risk, it does not follow we should fail. Sixth +Objection: My wife wouldn't like it. No, she wouldn't. Who would? But +the Curtins don't like it. And all those who are to suffer if this goes +on, won't like it. And if there is a great wrong, somebody must suffer. +Seventh Objection: I won't like it. No, I will not; I have thought it +through, and I will not. But what of that? And both she and I may like +it more than we suppose. We shall lose friends, all comforts, all +society: so has everybody who has ever done anything; but we shall have +some excitement, and that's a fine thing; and we shall be trying to do +the right, and that's not to be despised. Eighth Objection: I am an +author with my work before me. See Second Reason. Ninth Objection: But +am I not taken with the hope of excitement? I was at first. I am not +much now. I see what a dreary, friendless, miserable, God-forgotten +business it will be. And anyway, is not excitement the proper reward of +doing anything both right and a little dangerous? Tenth Objection: But +am I not taken with a notion of glory? I dare say I am. Yet I see quite +clearly how all points to nothing coming, to a quite inglorious death by +disease and from the lack of attendance; or even if I should be knocked +on the head, as these poor Irish promise, how little any one will care. +It will be a smile at a thousand breakfast-tables. I am nearly forty +now; I have not many illusions. And if I had? I do not love this +health-tending, housekeeping life of mine. I have a taste for danger, +which is human, like the fear of it. Here is a fair cause; a just cause; +no knight ever set lance in rest for a juster. Yet it needs not the +strength I have not, only the passive courage that I hope I could +muster, and the watchfulness that I am sure I could learn. + +Here is a long midnight dissertation; with myself; with you. Please let +me hear. But I charge you this: if you see in this idea of mine the +finger of duty, do not dissuade me. I am nearing forty, I begin to love +my ease and my home and my habits, I never knew how much till this +arose; do not falsely counsel me to put my head under the bed-clothes. +And I will say this to you: my wife, who hates the idea, does not +refuse. "It is nonsense," says she, "but if you go, I will go." Poor +girl, and her home and her garden that she was so proud of! I feel her +garden most of all, because it is a pleasure (I suppose) that I do not +feel myself to share. + + 1. Here is a great wrong. + 2. " a growing wrong. + 3. " a wrong founded on crime. + 4. " crime that the Government cannot prevent. + 5. " crime that it occurs to no man to defy. + 6. But it has occurred to me. + 7. Being a known person, some will notice my defiance. + 8. Being a writer, I can _make_ people notice it. + 9. And, I think, _make_ people imitate me. + 10. Which would destroy in time this whole scaffolding of oppression. + 11. And if I fail, however ignominiously, that is not my concern. + It is, with an odd mixture of reverence and humorous remembrances + of Dickens, be it said--it is A-nother's. + +And here, at I cannot think what hour of the morning, I shall dry up, +and remain--Yours, really in want of a little help, + + R. L. S. + + + Sleepless at midnight's dewy hour. + " " witching " + " " maudlin " + etc. + +_Next morning._--Eleventh Objection: I have a father and mother. And who +has not? Macduff's was a rare case; if we must wait for a Macduff. +Besides, my father will not perhaps be long here. Twelfth Objection: The +cause of England in Ireland is not worth supporting. _A qui le +dites-vous?_ And I am not supporting that. Home Rule, if you like. Cause +of decency, the idea that populations should not be taught to gain +public ends by private crime, the idea that for all men to bow before a +threat of crime is to loosen and degrade beyond redemption the whole +fabric of man's decency. + + + + +TO MRS. FLEEMING JENKIN + + + The first paragraph of the following refers to the _Life of Fleeming + Jenkin_; the second, to a remark of his correspondent that a task + such as he had proposed to himself in Ireland should be undertaken + by a society rather than an individual. + + [_Skerryvore, Bournemouth, April 1887._] + +MY DEAR MRS. JENKIN,--The Book. It is all drafted: I hope soon to send +you for comments Chapters III., IV., and V. Chapter VII. is roughly but +satisfactorily drafted: a very little work should put that to rights. +But Chapter VI. is no joke; it is a _mare magnum_: I swim and drown and +come up again; and it is all broken ends and mystification: moreover, I +perceive I am in want of more matter. I must have, first of all, a +little letter from Mr. Ewing about the phonograph work: _If_ you think +he would understand it is quite a matter of chance whether I use a word +or a fact out of it. If you think he would not: I will go without. Also, +could I have a look at Ewing's _precis_? And lastly, I perceive I must +interview you again about a few points; they are very few, and might +come to little; and I propose to go on getting things as well together +as I can in the meanwhile, and rather have a final time when all is +ready and only to be criticised. I do still think it will be good. I +wonder if Trelat would let me cut? But no, I think I wouldn't after all; +'tis so quaint and pretty and clever and simple and French, and gives +such a good sight of Fleeming: the plum of the book, I think. + +You misunderstood me in one point: I always hoped to found such a +society; that was the outside of my dream, and would mean entire +success. _But_--I cannot play Peter the Hermit. In these days of the +Fleet Street journalist, I cannot send out better men than myself, with +wives or mothers just as good as mine, and sisters (I may at least say) +better, to a danger and a long-drawn dreariness that I do not share. My +wife says it's cowardice; what brave men are the leader-writers! Call it +cowardice; it is mine. Mind you, I may end by trying to do it by the pen +only: I shall not love myself if I do; and is it ever a good thing to do +a thing for which you despise yourself?--even in the doing? And if the +thing you do is to call upon others to do the thing you neglect? I have +never dared to say what I feel about men's lives, because my own was in +the wrong: shall I dare to send them to death? The physician must heal +himself; he must honestly _try_ the path he recommends: if he does not +even try, should he not be silent? + +I thank you very heartily for your letter, and for the seriousness you +brought to it. You know, I think when a serious thing is your own, you +keep a saner man by laughing at it and yourself as you go. So I do not +write possibly with all the really somewhat sickened gravity I feel. And +indeed, what with the book, and this business to which I referred, and +Ireland, I am scarcely in an enviable state. Well, I ought to be glad, +after ten years of the worst training on earth--valetudinarianism--that +I can still be troubled by a duty. You shall hear more in time; so far, +I am at least decided: I will go and see Balfour when I get to London. + +We have all had a great pleasure: a Mrs. Rawlinson came and brought with +her a nineteen-year-old daughter, simple, human, as beautiful +as--herself; I never admired a girl before, you know it was my weakness: +we are all three dead in love with her. How nice to be able to do so +much good to harassed people by--yourself!--Ever yours, + + R. L. S. + + + + +TO MISS RAWLINSON + + + Here follows a compliment in verse to the young lady last mentioned, + whose Christian name was May. + + [_Skerryvore, Bournemouth, April 1887._] + + Of the many flowers you brought me, + Only some were meant to stay, + And the flower I thought the sweetest + Was the flower that went away. + + Of the many flowers you brought me, + All were fair and fresh and gay, + But the flower I thought the sweetest + Was the blossom of the May. + + ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. + + + + +TO SIDNEY COLVIN + + + Within a fortnight after the date of the above Stevenson went + himself, and for the last time, to Scotland, and was present, too + late for recognition, at the death of his father (May 8, 1887). + Business detained him for some weeks, and the following was written + just before his return to Bournemouth. + + [_Edinburgh, June 1887._] + +MY DEAR S. C.,--At last I can write a word to you. Your little note in +the P.M.G. was charming. I have written four pages in the Contemporary, +which Bunting found room for: they are not very good, but I shall do +more for his memory in time. + +About the death, I have long hesitated, I was long before I could tell +my mind; and now I know it, and can but say that I am glad. If we could +have had my father, that would have been a different thing. But to keep +that changeling--suffering changeling--any longer, could better none and +nothing. Now he rests; it is more significant, it is more like himself. +He will begin to return to us in the course of time, as he was and as we +loved him. + +My favourite words in literature, my favourite scene--"O let him pass," +Kent and Lear--was played for me here in the first moment of my return. +I believe Shakespeare saw it with his own father. I had no words; but it +was shocking to see. He died on his feet, you know; was on his feet the +last day, knowing nobody--still he would be up. This was his constant +wish; also that he might smoke a pipe on his last day. The funeral would +have pleased him; it was the largest private funeral in man's memory +here. + +We have no plans, and it is possible we may go home without going +through town. I do not know; I have no views yet whatever; nor can have +any at this stage of my cold and my business.--Ever yours, + + R. L. S. + + + + +TO SIR WALTER SIMPSON + + + Written during a short visit to me between his return from Scotland + and his departure for New York. + + _British Museum [July 1887]._ + +MY DEAR SIMPSON,--This is a long time I have not acknowledged the Art of +Golf, though I read it through within thirty-six hours of its arrival. I +have been ill and out of heart, and ill again and again ill, till I am +weary of it, and glad indeed to try the pitch-farthing hazard of a trip +to Colorado or New Mexico. There we go, if I prove fit for the start, on +August 20th. + +Meanwhile, the Art of Golf. A lot of it is very funny, and I liked the +fun very well; but what interested me most was the more serious part, +because it turns all the while on a branch of psychology that no one has +treated and that interests me much: the psychology of athletics. I had +every reason to be interested in it, because I am abnormal: I have no +memory in athletics. I have forgotten how to ride and how to skate; and +I should not be the least surprised if I had forgotten how to swim. + +I find I can write no more: it is the first I have tried since I was +ill; and I am too weak.--Yours ever, + + R. L. S. + + + + +TO W. E. HENLEY + + + During the two months following his father's death Stevenson had + suffered much both from his old complaints and from depression of + mind. His only work had been in preparing for press the verse + collection _Underwoods_, the _Life of Fleeming Jenkin_, and the + volume of essays called _Memories and Portraits_. The opinions quoted + are those of physicians. + + _[Skerryvore, Bournemouth] August 1887._ + +DEAR LAD,--I write to inform you that Mr. Stevenson's well-known work, +_Virginibus Puerisque_, is about to be reprinted. At the same time a +second volume called _Memories and Portraits_ will issue from the +roaring loom. Its interest will be largely autobiographical, Mr. S. +having sketched there the lineaments of many departed friends, and dwelt +fondly, and with a m'istened eye, upon by-gone pleasures. The two will +be issued under the common title of _Familiar Essays_; but the volumes +will be vended separately to those who are mean enough not to hawk at +both. + +The blood is at last stopped: only yesterday. I began to think I should +not get away. However, I hope--I hope--remark the word--no boasting--I +hope I may luff up a bit now. Dobell, whom I saw, gave as usual a good +account of my lungs, and expressed himself, like his neighbours, +hopefully about the trip. He says, my uncle says, Scott says, Brown +says--they all say--You ought not to be in such a state of health; you +should recover. Well, then, I mean to. My spirits are rising again after +three months of black depression: I almost begin to feel as if I should +care to live: I would, by God! And so I believe I shall.--Yours, + + BULLETIN M'GURDER. + + +How has the _Deacon_ gone? + + + + +TO W. H. LOW + + + _[Skerryvore, Bournemouth] August 6th, 1887._ + +MY DEAR LOW,--We--my mother, my wife, my stepson, my maidservant, and +myself, five souls--leave, if all is well, Aug. 20th, per Wilson line +s.s. Ludgate Hill. Shall probably evade N. Y. at first, cutting +straight to a watering-place: Newport, I believe, its name. Afterwards +we shall steal incognito into _la bonne ville_, and see no one but you +and the Scribners, if it may be so managed. You must understand I have +been very seedy indeed, quite a dead body; and unless the voyage does +miracles, I shall have to draw it dam fine. Alas, "The Canoe Speaks" is +now out of date; it will figure in my volume of verses now imminent. +However, I may find some inspiration some day.--Till very soon, yours +ever, + + R. L. S. + + + + +TO MISS ADELAIDE BOODLE + + + The lady to whom the following (and much correspondence yet to come) + is addressed had been an attached friend of the Skerryvore household + and a pupil of Stevenson's in the art of writing. She had given R. L. + S. a paper-cutter by way of farewell token at his starting. + + _Bournemouth, August 19th, 1887._ + +MY DEAR MISS BOODLE,--I promise you the paper-knife shall go to sea with +me; and if it were in my disposal, I should promise it should return with +me too. All that you say, I thank you for very much; I thank you for all +the pleasantness that you have brought about our house; and I hope the +day may come when I shall see you again in poor old Skerryvore, now left +to the natives of Canada, or to worse barbarians, if such exist. I am +afraid my attempt to jest is rather _a contre-coeur_.--Good-bye--_au +revoir_--and do not forget your friend, + + ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. + + + + +TO MESSRS. CHATTO AND WINDUS + + + The titles and proofs mentioned in the text are presumably those of + _Underwoods_ and _Memories and Portraits_. + + _Bournemouth_ [_August 1887_]. + +DEAR SIRS,--I here enclose the two titles. Had you not better send me +the bargains to sign? I shall be here till Saturday; and shall have an +address in London (which I shall send you) till Monday, when I shall +sail. Even if the proofs do not reach you till Monday morning, you could +send a clerk from Fenchurch Street Station at 10.23 A.M. for Galleons +Station, and he would find me embarking on board the _Ludgate Hill_, +Island Berth, Royal Albert Dock. Pray keep this in case it should be +necessary to catch this last chance. I am most anxious to have the +proofs with me on the voyage.--Yours very truly, + + ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. + + +FOOTNOTES: + + [10] Cough. + + [11] Loose talk. + + [12] Mr. Charles Morley, at this time manager or assistant-manager of + the Pall Mall Gazette. + + [13] _Princess Casamassima._ + + [14] Lothian vernacular pronunciation of Cunningham. + + [15] In _Underwoods_ the lines thus bracketed as doubtful stand with + the change: + + "Life is over; life was gay." + + [16] _Prince Otto._ + + [17] The name of the hero in Dostoieffsky's _Le Crime et le Chatiment_. + + [18] _Suite anglaise._ + + [19] As in fact he had, all except the double l. + + [20] In _Pendennis_. + + + + +IX + +THE UNITED STATES AGAIN + +WINTER IN THE ADIRONDACKS + +AUGUST 1887--JUNE 1888 + + +The letters printed in the following section are selected from those +which tell of Stevenson's voyage to New York and reception there at the +beginning of September 1887; of his winter's life and work at Saranac +Lake, and of his decision taken in May 1888 to venture on a yachting +cruise in the South Seas. + +The moment of his arrival at New York was that when his reputation had +first reached its height in the United States, owing to the popularity +both of _Treasure Island_ and _Kidnapped_, but more especially to the +immense impression made by the _Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. +Hyde_. He experienced consequently for the first time the pleasures, +such as they were, of celebrity, and also its inconveniences; found the +most hospitable of refuges in the house of his kind friends, Mr. and +Mrs. Charles Fairchild, at Newport; and quickly made many other friends, +including the late Augustus St. Gaudens, the famous sculptor, with Mr. +C. Scribner and Mr. E. L. Burlingame, the owner and the editor of +Scribner's Magazine, from whom he immediately received and accepted very +advantageous offers of work. Having been dissuaded from braving for the +present the fatigue of the long journey to Colorado and the extreme +rigour of its winter climate, he determined to try instead a season at +Saranac Lake in the Adirondack Mountains, New York State, which had +lately been coming into reputation as a place of cure. There, under the +care of the well-known resident physician, Dr. Trudeau, he spent nearly +seven months, from the end of September 1887 to the end of April 1888, +with results on the whole favourable to his own health, though not to +that of his wife, which could never support these winter mountain cures. +On the 16th of April, he and his party left Saranac. After spending a +fortnight in New York, where, as always in cities, his health quickly +flagged again, he went for the month of May into seaside quarters at +Union House, Manasquan, on the New Jersey coast, for the sake of fresh +air and boating. Here he enjoyed the occasional society of some of his +New York friends, including Mr. St. Gaudens and Mr. W. H. Low, and was +initiated in the congenial craft of cat-boat sailing. In the meantime, +Mrs. Stevenson had gone to San Francisco to see her relatives; and +holding that the climate of the Pacific was likely to be better for the +projected cruise than that of the Atlantic, had inquired there whether a +yacht was to be hired for such a purpose. The schooner _Casco_, Captain +Otis, was found. Stevenson signified by telegraph his assent to the +arrangement; determined to risk in the adventure the sum of L2000, of +which his father's death had put him in possession, hoping to recoup +himself by a series of Letters recounting his experiences, for which he +had received a commission from Mr. S. S. M'Clure; and on the 2nd of June +started with his mother and stepson for San Francisco, the first stage +on that island cruise from which he was destined never to return. + +His work during the season September 1887-May 1888 had consisted of the +twelve papers published in the course of 1888 in Scribner's Magazine, +including perhaps the most striking of all his essays, _A Chapter on +Dreams_, _Pulvis et Umbra_, _Beggars_, _The Lantern Bearers_, _Random +Memories_, etc.; as well as the greater part of the _Master of +Ballantrae_ and _The Wrong Box_--the last originally conceived and +drafted by Mr. Lloyd Osbourne. + + + + +TO SIDNEY COLVIN + + + A succession of Stevenson's friends had visited and spent part of the + day or the evening with him at Armfield's hotel on Sunday, August + 20th, each bringing some farewell gift or another (as related by Mr. + Gosse in his volume _Critical Kitcats_, p. 297). Among these, Mr. + Henry James's gift had been a case of champagne for consumption + during the journey. On the morning of the 21st I accompanied him to + the docks, saw him and his party embarked on board the steamer + _Ludgate Hill_, a vessel sailing from the port of London and carrying + animals and freight as well as passengers. They had chosen to go by + this route for the sake alike of economy and amusement, rather than + by one of the sumptuous liners sailing from Liverpool or Southampton. + Leaving the ship's side as she weighed anchor, and waving farewell to + the party from the boat which landed me, I little knew what was the + truth, that I was looking on the face of my friend for the last time. + The letters next following were written during or Immediately after + his passage across the Atlantic. "The Commodore" is of course R. L. S. + + _H.M.S. Vulgarium, off Havre de Grace, + this 22nd day of August [1887]._ + +SIR,--The weather has been hitherto inimitable. Inimitable is the only +word that I can apply to our fellow-voyagers, whom a categorist, +possibly premature, has been already led to divide into two classes--the +better sort consisting of the baser kind of Bagman, and the worser of +undisguised Beasts of the Field. The berths are excellent, the pasture +swallowable, the champagne of H. James (to recur to my favourite +adjective) inimitable. As for the Commodore, he slept awhile in the +evening, tossed off a cup of Henry James with his plain meal, walked the +deck till eight, among sands and floating lights and buoys and wrecked +brigantines, came down (to his regret) a minute too soon to see Margate +lit up, turned in about nine, slept, with some interruptions, but on the +whole sweetly, until six, and has already walked a mile or so of deck, +among a fleet of other steamers waiting for the tide, within view of +Havre, and pleasantly entertained by passing fishing-boats, hovering +sea-gulls, and Vulgarians pairing on deck with endearments of primitive +simplicity. There, sir, can be viewed the sham quarrel, the sham desire +for information, and every device of these two poor ancient sexes (who +might, you might think, have learned in the course of the ages something +new) down to the exchange of head-gear.--I am, sir, yours, + + BOLD BOB BOLTSPRIT. + + +B. B. B. (_alias_ the Commodore) will now turn to his proofs. Havre de +Grace is a city of some show. It is for-ti-fied; and, so far as I can +see, is a place of some trade. It is situ-ated in France, a country of +Europe. You always complain there are no facts in my letters. + + R. L. S. + + + + +TO SIDNEY COLVIN + + + _Newport, R.I., U.S.A. [September 1887]_ + +MY DEAR COLVIN,--So long it went excellent well, and I had a time I am +glad to have had; really enjoying my life. There is nothing like being +at sea, after all. And O, why have I allowed myself to rot so long on +land? But on the Banks I caught a cold, and I have not yet got over it. +My reception here was idiotic to the last degree.... It is very silly, +and not pleasant, except where humour enters; and I confess the poor +interviewer lads pleased me. They are too good for their trade; avoided +anything I asked them to avoid, and were no more vulgar in their reports +than they could help. I liked the lads. + +O, it was lovely on our stable-ship, chock full of stallions. She +rolled heartily, rolled some of the fittings out of our state-room, and +I think a more dangerous cruise (except that it was summer) it would be +hard to imagine. But we enjoyed it to the masthead, all but Fanny; and +even she perhaps a little. When we got in, we had run out of beer, +stout, cocoa, soda-water, water, fresh meat, and (almost) of biscuit. +But it was a thousandfold pleasanter than a great big Birmingham liner +like a new hotel; and we liked the officers, and made friends with the +quarter-masters, and I (at least) made a friend of a baboon (for we +carried a cargo of apes), whose embraces have pretty near cost me a +coat. The passengers improved, and were a very good specimen lot, with +no drunkard, no gambling that I saw, and less grumbling and backbiting +than one would have asked of poor human nature. Apes, stallions, cows, +matches, hay, and poor men-folk, all, or almost all, came successfully +to land.--Yours ever, + + R. L. S. + + + + +TO HENRY JAMES + + + [_Newport, U.S.A., September 1887._] + +MY DEAR JAMES,--Here we are at Newport in the house of the good +Fairchilds; and a sad burthen we have laid upon their shoulders. I have +been in bed practically ever since I came. I caught a cold on the Banks +after having had the finest time conceivable, and enjoyed myself more +than I could have hoped on board our strange floating menagerie: +stallions and monkeys and matches made our cargo; and the vast continent +of these incongruities rolled the while like a haystack; and the +stallions stood hypnotised by the motion, looking through the ports at +our dinner-table, and winked when the crockery was broken; and the +little monkeys stared at each other in their cages, and were thrown +overboard like little bluish babies; and the big monkey, Jacko, scoured +about the ship and rested willingly in my arms, to the ruin of my +clothing; and the man of the stallions made a bower of the black +tarpaulin, and sat therein at the feet of a raddled divinity, like a +picture on a box of chocolates; and the other passengers, when they were +not sick, looked on and laughed. Take all this picture, and make it roll +till the bell shall sound unexpected notes and the fittings shall break +loose in our state-room, and you have the voyage of the _Ludgate Hill_. +She arrived in the port of New York, without beer, porter, soda-water, +curacoa, fresh meat, or fresh water; and yet we lived, and we regret +her. + +My wife is a good deal run down, and I am no great shakes. + +America is, as I remarked, a fine place to eat in, and a great place for +kindness; but, Lord, what a silly thing is popularity! I envy the cool +obscurity of Skerryvore. If it even paid, said Meanness! and was abashed +at himself.--Yours most sincerely, + + ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. + + + + +TO SIDNEY COLVIN + + + [_New York, end of September 1887._] + +MY DEAR S. C.,--Your delightful letter has just come, and finds me in a +New York hotel, waiting the arrival of a sculptor (St. Gaudens) who is +making a medallion of yours truly and who is (to boot) one of the +handsomest and nicest fellows I have seen. I caught a cold on the Banks; +fog is not for me; nearly died of interviewers and visitors, during +twenty-four hours in New York; cut for Newport with Lloyd and Valentine, +a journey like fairyland for the most engaging beauties, one little +rocky and pine-shaded cove after another, each with a house and a boat +at anchor, so that I left my heart in each and marvelled why American +authors had been so unjust to their country; caught another cold on the +train; arrived at Newport to go to bed and to grow worse, and to stay in +bed until I left again; the Fairchilds proving during this time +kindness itself; Mr. Fairchild simply one of the most engaging men in +the world, and one of the children, Blair, _aet._ ten, a great joy and +amusement in his solemn adoring attitude to the author of _Treasure +Island_. + +Here I was interrupted by the arrival of my sculptor.--I withdraw +calling him handsome; he is not quite that, his eyes are too near +together; he is only remarkable looking, and like an Italian +cinque-cento medallion; I have begged him to make a medallion of himself +and give me a copy. I will not take up the sentence in which I was +wandering so long, but begin fresh. I was ten or twelve days at Newport; +then came back convalescent to New York. Fanny and Lloyd are off to the +Adirondacks to see if that will suit; and the rest of us leave Monday +(this is Saturday) to follow them up. I hope we may manage to stay there +all winter. I have a splendid appetite and have on the whole recovered +well after a mighty sharp attack. I am now on a salary of L500 a year +for twelve articles in Scribner's Magazine on what I like; it is more +than L500, but I cannot calculate more precisely. You have no idea how +much is made of me here; I was offered L2000 for a weekly article--eh +heh! how is that? but I refused that lucrative job. The success of +_Underwoods_ is gratifying. You see, the verses are sane; that is their +strong point, and it seems it is strong enough to carry them. + +A thousand thanks for your grand letter.--Ever yours, + + R. L. S. + + + + +TO W. E. HENLEY + + + The verses herein alluded to were addressed to Rossetti's friend, Dr. + Gordon Hake, physician and poet (1809-1895), in return for some + received from him. They are those beginning "In the beloved hour that + ushers day" and printed as No. xix. in _Songs of Travel_. + + _New York [September 1887]._ + +MY DEAR LAD,--Herewith verses for Dr. Hake, which please communicate. I +did my best with the interviewers; + +I don't know if Lloyd sent you the result; my heart was too sick: you +can do nothing with them; and yet ----literally sweated with anxiety to +please, and took me down in long hand! + +I have been quite ill, but go better. I am being not busted, but +medallioned, by St. Gaudens, who is a first-rate, plain, high-minded +artist and honest fellow; you would like him down to the ground. I +believe sculptors are fine fellows when they are not demons. O, I am now +a salaried person, L600, a year,[21] to write twelve articles in +Scribner's Magazine; it remains to be seen if it really pays, huge as +the sum is, but the slavery may overweigh me. I hope you will like my +answer to Hake, and specially that he will. + +Love to all.--Yours affectionately, + + R. L. S. + (_le salarie_). + + + + +TO R. A. M. STEVENSON + + + _Saranac Lake, Adirondacks, New York, U.S.A. [October 1887]._ + +MY DEAR BOB,--The cold [of Colorado] was too rigorous for me; I could +not risk the long railway voyage, and the season was too late to risk +the Eastern, Cape Hatteras side of the steamer one; so here we stuck and +stick. We have a wooden house on a hill-top, overlooking a river, and a +village about a quarter of a mile away, and very wooded hills; the whole +scene is very Highland, bar want of heather and the wooden houses. + +I have got one good thing of my sea voyage: it is proved the sea agrees +heartily with me, and my mother likes it; so if I get any better, or no +worse, my mother will likely hire a yacht for a month or so in summer. +Good Lord! What fun! Wealth is only useful for two things: a yacht and a +string quartette. For these two I will sell my soul. Except for these I +hold that L700 a year is as much as any body can possibly want; and I +have had more, so I know, for the extry coins were for no use, excepting +for illness, which damns everything. + +I was so happy on board that ship, I could not have believed it +possible. We had the beastliest weather, and many discomforts; but the +mere fact of its being a tramp-ship gave us many comforts; we could cut +about with the men and officers, stay in the wheel-house, discuss all +manner of things, and really be a little at sea. And truly there is +nothing else. I had literally forgotten what happiness was, and the full +mind--full of external and physical things, not full of cares and +labours and rot about a fellow's behaviour. My heart literally sang; I +truly care for nothing so much as for that. We took so north a course, +that we saw Newfoundland; no one in the ship had ever seen it before. + +It was beyond belief to me how she rolled; in seemingly smooth water, +the bell striking, the fittings bounding out of our state-room. It is +worth having lived these last years, partly because I have written some +better books, which is always pleasant, but chiefly to have had the joy +of this voyage. I have been made a lot of here, and it is sometimes +pleasant, sometimes the reverse; but I could give it all up, and agree +that ---- was the author of my works, for a good seventy ton schooner +and the coins to keep her on. And to think there are parties with yachts +who would make the exchange! I know a little about fame now; it is no +good compared to a yacht; and anyway there is more fame in a yacht, more +genuine fame; to cross the Atlantic and come to anchor in Newport (say) +with the Union Jack, and go ashore for your letters and hang about the +pier, among the holiday yachtsmen--that's fame, that's glory, and nobody +can take it away; they can't say your book is bad; you _have_ crossed +the Atlantic. I should do it south by the West Indies, to avoid the +damned Banks; and probably come home by steamer, and leave the skipper +to bring the yacht home. + +Well, if all goes well, we shall maybe sail out of Southampton water +some of these days and take a run to Havre, and try the Baltic, or +somewhere. + +Love to you all--Ever your afft. + + ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. + + + + +TO SIR WALTER SIMPSON + + It was supposed that Stevenson's letters to this friend, like those + to Professor Fleeming Jenkin, had been destroyed or disappeared + altogether. But besides the two printed above (pp. 117 and 229) here + is a third, preserved by a friend to whom Sir Walter made a present + of it. + + [_Saranac Lake, October 1887._] + +MY DEAR SIMPSON, + + the address is + c/o Charles Scribner's Sons, + 243 Broadway, N.Y., + +where I wish you would write and tell us you are better. But the place +of our abode is Saranac Lake in the Adirondacks; it is a mighty good +place too, and I mean it shall do me good. Indeed the dreadful +depression and collapse of last summer has quite passed away; it was a +thorough change I wanted; I wonder perhaps if it wouldn't pick you +up--if you are not picked up already; you have been a long time in Great +Britain; and that is a slow poison, very slow for the strong, but +certain for all. Old Dr. Chepmell told Lloyd: any one can stay a year in +England and be the better for it, but no one can stay there steadily and +not be the worse. + +I have had a very curious experience here; being very much made of, and +called upon, and all that; quite the famous party in fact: it is not so +nice as people try to make out, when you are young, and don't want to +bother working. Fame is nothing to a yacht; _experto crede_. There are +nice bits of course; for you meet very pleasant and interesting people; +but the thing at large is a bore and a fraud; and I am much happier up +here, where I see no one and live my own life. One thing is they do not +stick for money to the Famed One; I was offered L2000 a year for a +weekly article; and I accepted (and now enjoy) L720 a year for a monthly +one: 720/12 (whatever that may be) for each article, as long or as short +as I please, and on any mortal subject. I am sure it will do me harm to +do it; but the sum was irresistible. See calculations on verso of last +page, and observe, sir, the accuracy of my methods. + +Hulloh, I must get up, as I can't lose any time. Good-bye, remember me +to her ladyship and salute the Kids.--Ever your friend, + + R. L. S. + + + 12 : 10 :: 72 : _x_, and this results in the same problem. Well--tackle + it. + + 12)720(60 + 72 + + Is it possible? + + L60!!?? + + Let us cheque it by trying it in dollars, $3500 per an. + + 12)3500(291. 80 + 24 + --- + 110 + 108 + --- + 20 + + Well : $291.80 + + then divide by 5 for a rough test + + 5)291(58.4.4 + 25 add 80 cents = 40d. = 3. 4d. + -- + 3.4 + ------- + L58. 7.8 + + Well, call it + L58.10. + ====== + and be done with it! + + + + +TO EDMUND GOSSE + + The following refers to a review by Mr. Gosse of Stevenson's volume + of verse called _Underwoods_. The book had been published a few weeks + previously, and is dedicated, as readers will remember, to a number + of physicians who had attended him at sundry times and places. + + _Saranac Lake, Oct. 8th, 1887._ + +MY DEAR GOSSE,--I have just read your article twice, with cheers of +approving laughter. I do not believe you ever wrote anything so funny: +Tyndall's "shell," the passage on the Davos press and its invaluable +issues, and that on V. Hugo and Swinburne, are exquisite; so, I say it +more ruefully, is the touch about the doctors. For the rest, I am very +glad you like my verses so well; and the qualities you ascribe to them +seem to me well found and well named. I own to that kind of candour you +attribute to me: when I am frankly interested, I suppose I fancy the +public will be so too; and when I am moved, I am sure of it. It has been +my luck hitherto to meet with no staggering disillusion. "Before" and +"After" may be two; and yet I believe the habit is now too thoroughly +ingrained to be altered. About the doctors, you were right, that +dedication has been the subject of some pleasantries that made me grind, +and of your happily touched reproof which made me blush. And to miscarry +in a dedication is an abominable form of book-wreck; I am a good +captain, I would rather lose the tent and save my dedication. + +I am at Saranac Lake in the Adirondacks, I suppose for the winter: it +seems a first-rate place; we have a house in the eye of many winds, with +a view of a piece of running water--Highland, all but the dear hue of +peat--and of many hills--Highland also, but for the lack of heather. +Soon the snow will close on us; we are here some twenty +miles--twenty-seven, they say, but this I profoundly disbelieve--in the +woods: communication by letter is slow and (let me be consistent) +aleatory; by telegram is as near as may be possible. + +I had some experience of American appreciation; I liked a little of it, +but there is too much; a little of that would go a long way to spoil a +man; and I like myself better in the woods. I am so damned candid and +ingenuous (for a cynic), and so much of a "cweatu' of impulse--aw" (if +you remember that admirable Leech) that I begin to shirk any more taffy; +I think I begin to like it too well. But let us trust the Gods; they +have a rod in pickle; reverently I doff my trousers, and with screwed +eyes await the _amari aliquid_ of the great God Busby. + +I thank you for the article in all ways, and remain yours +affectionately, + + R. L. S. + + + + +TO W. H. LOW + + + [_Saranac Lake, October 1887._] + +SIR,--I have to trouble you with the following _paroles bien senties_. +We are here at a first-rate place. "Baker's" is the name of our house, +but we don't address there; we prefer the tender care of the +Post-Office, as more aristocratic (it is no use to telegraph even to the +care of the Post-Office, who does not give a single damn[22]). Baker's +has a prophet's chamber, which the hypercritical might describe as a +garret with a hole in the floor: in that garret, sir, I have to trouble +you and your wife to come and slumber. Not now, however: with manly +hospitality, I choke off any sudden impulse. Because first, my wife and +my mother are gone (a note for the latter, strongly suspected to be in +the hand of your talented wife, now sits silent on the mantel shelf), +one to Niagara and t'other to Indianapolis. Because, second, we are not +yet installed. And because, third, I won't have you till I have a +buffalo robe and leggings, lest you should want to paint me as a plain +man, which I am not, but a rank Saranacker and wild man of the +woods.--Yours, + + ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. + + + + +TO CHARLES FAIRCHILD + + + _Post Office, Saranac Lake, Adirondacks, N.Y. [October 1887]._ + +MY DEAR FAIRCHILD,--I do not live in the Post Office; that is only my +address; I live at "Baker's," a house upon a hill, and very jolly in +every way. I believe this is going to do: we have a kind of a garret of +a spare room, where hardy visitors can sleep, and our table (if homely) +is not bad. + +And here, appropriately enough, comes in the begging part. We cannot get +any fruit here: can you manage to send me some grapes? I told you I +would trouble you, and I will say that I do so with pleasure, which +means a great deal from yours very sincerely, + + ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. + + +_P.S._--Remember us to all yours: my mother and my wife are away +skylarking; my mother to Niagara, my wife to Indianapolis; and I live +here to-day alone with Lloyd, Valentine, some cold meat, and four salmon +trout, one of which is being grilled at this moment of writing; so that, +after the immortal pattern of the Indian boys, my household will soon +only reckon three. As usual with me, the news comes in a P.S., and is +mostly folly. + + R. L. S. + + +_P.P.S._--My cold is so much better that I took another yesterday. But +the new one is a puny child; I fear him not; and yet I fear to boast. If +the postscript business goes on, this establishment will run out of P's; +but I hope it wasn't you that made this paper--just for a last word--I +could not compliment you upon that. And Lord! if you could see the +ink--not what I am using--but the local vintage! They don't write much +here; I bet what you please. + + R. L. S. + + + + +TO WILLIAM ARCHER + + + The Wondrous Tale referred to in the following is Stevenson's _Black + Arrow_, which had been through Mr. Archer's hands in proof. + + _Saranac Lake, October 1887._ + +DEAR ARCHER,--Many thanks for the Wondrous Tale. It is scarcely a work +of genius, as I believe you felt. Thanks also for your pencillings; +though I defend "shrew," or at least many of the shrews. + +We are here (I suppose) for the winter in the Adirondacks, a hill and +forest country on the Canadian border of New York State, very unsettled +and primitive and cold, and healthful, or we are the more bitterly +deceived. I believe it will do well for me; but must not boast. + +My wife is away to Indiana to see her family; my mother, Lloyd, and I +remain here in the cold, which has been exceeding sharp, and the hill +air, which is inimitably fine. We all eat bravely, and sleep well, and +make great fires, and get along like one o'clock. + +I am now a salaried party; I am a _bourgeois_ now; I am to write a +weekly paper for Scribner's, at a scale of payment which makes my teeth +ache for shame and diffidence. The editor is, I believe, to apply to +you; for we were talking over likely men, and when I instanced you, he +said he had had his eye upon you from the first. It is worth while, +perhaps, to get in tow with the Scribners; they are such thorough +gentlefolk in all ways that it is always a pleasure to deal with them. I +am like to be a millionaire if this goes on, and be publicly hanged at +the social revolution: well, I would prefer that to dying in my bed; +and it would be a godsend to my biographer, if ever I have one. What are +you about? I hope you are all well and in good case and spirits, as I am +now, after a most nefast experience of despondency before I left; but +indeed I was quite run down. Remember me to Mrs. Archer, and give my +respects to Tom.--Yours very truly, + + ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. + + + + +TO W. E. HENLEY + + + "Gleeson White" in this letter means the collection of _Ballades, + Rondeaus, &c._, edited by that gentleman and dedicated to R. L. S. + (Walter Scott, 1887). + + [_Saranac Lake, October 1887._] + +MY DEAR LAD,--I hear some vague reports of a success[23] at Montreal. + +My news is not much, my mother is away to Niagara and Fanny to Indiana; +the Port Admiral and I and Valentine keep house together in our +verandahed cottage near a wood. I am writing, and have got into the +vein. When I got to N. Y. a paper offered me L2000 a year to do critical +weekly articles for them; the sum was so enormous that I tottered; +however, Scribner at once offered me the same scale to give him a +monthly paper in his magazine; indeed it is rather higher, L720 for the +twelve papers. This I could not decently refuse; and I am now a yoked +man, and after a fit of my usual impotence under bondage, seem to have +got into the swing. I suppose I shall scarce manage to do much else; but +there is the fixed sum, which shines like a sun in the firmament. A +prophet has certainly a devil of a lot of honour (and much coins) in +another country, whatever he has in his own. + +I got Gleeson White; your best work and either the best or second best +in the book is the Ballade in Hot Weather; that is really a masterpiece +of melody and fancy. Damn your Villanelles--and everybody's. G. +Macdonald comes out strong in his two pious rondels; _Fons Bandusiae_ +seems as exquisite as ever. To my surprise, I liked two of the Pantoums, +the blue-bottle, and the still better after-death one from _Love in +Idleness_. Lang cuts a poor figure, except in the Cricket one; your +patter ballade is a great _tour de force_, but spoiled by similar +caesuras. On the whole 'tis a ridiculous volume, and I had more pleasure +out of it than I expected. I forgot to praise Grant Allen's excellent +ballade, which is the one that runs with yours,--and here, to the point, +a note from you at Margate--among East Winds and Plain Women, damn them! +Well, what can we do or say? We are only at Saranac for the winter; and +if this _Deacon_ comes off, why you may join us there in glory; I would +I had some news of it. Saranac is not _quite_ so dear, in some ways, as +the rest of this land, where it costs you a pound to sneeze, and fifty +to blow your nose; but even here it costs $2.50 to get a box from the +station! Think of it! Lift it up tenderly! They had need to pay well! +but how poor devils live; and how it can pay to take a theatre company +over to such a land, is more than I can fancy. The devil of the States +for you is the conveyances, they are so dear--but O, what is not! + +I have thrown off my cold in excellent style, though still very groggy +about the knees, so that when I climb a paling, of which we have many, I +feel as precarious and nutatory as a man of ninety. Under this I grind; +but I believe the place will suit me. Must stop.--Ever affectionately, + + R. L. S. + + + + +TO HENRY JAMES + + + The "dear Alexander" mentioned below is Mr. J. W. Alexander, the + well-known American artist, who had been a welcome visitor to + Stevenson at Bournemouth, and had drawn his portrait there. The + humorous romance proceeding from Mr. Osbourne's typewriter was the + first draft of _The Wrong Box_; or, as it was originally called, _The + Finsbury Tontine_, or _The Game of Bluff_. The article by Mr. Henry + James referred to in the last paragraph is one on R. L. S. which had + appeared in the Century Magazine for October, and was reprinted in + _Partial Portraits_. + + [_Saranac Lake, October 1887_.] I know not the day; but the month + it is the drear October by the + ghoul-haunted woodland of Weir. + +MY DEAR HENRY JAMES,--This is to say _First_, the voyage was a huge +success. We all enjoyed it (bar my wife) to the ground: sixteen days at +sea with a cargo of hay, matches, stallions, and monkeys, and in a ship +with no style on, and plenty of sailors to talk to, and the endless +pleasures of the sea--the romance of it, the sport of the scratch dinner +and the smashing crockery, the pleasure--an endless pleasure--of +balancing to the swell: well, it's over. + +_Second_, I had a fine time, rather a troubled one, at Newport and New +York; saw much of and liked hugely the Fairchilds, St. Gaudens the +sculptor, Gilder of the Century--just saw the dear Alexander--saw a lot +of my old and admirable friend Will Low, whom I wish you knew and +appreciated--was medallioned by St. Gaudens, and at last escaped to + +_Third_, Saranac Lake, where we now are, and which I believe we mean to +like and pass the winter at. Our house--emphatically "Baker's"--is on a +hill, and has a sight of a stream turning a corner in the valley--bless +the face of running water!--and sees some hills too, and the paganly +prosaic roofs of Saranac itself; the Lake it does not see, nor do I +regret that; I like water (fresh water I mean) either running swiftly +among stones, or else largely qualified with whisky. As I write, the sun +(which has been long a stranger) shines in at my shoulder; from the next +room, the bell of Lloyd's typewriter makes an agreeable music as it +patters off (at a rate which astonishes this experienced novelist) the +early chapters of a humorous romance; from still further off--the walls +of Baker's are neither ancient nor massive--rumours of Valentine about +the kitchen stove come to my ears; of my mother and Fanny I hear +nothing, for the excellent reason that they have gone sparking off, one +to Niagara, one to Indianapolis. People complain that I never give news +in my letters. I have wiped out that reproach. + +But now, _Fourth_, I have seen the article; and it may be from natural +partiality, I think it the best you have written. O--I remember the +Gautier, which was an excellent performance; and the Balzac, which was +good; and the Daudet, over which I licked my chops; but the R. L. S. is +better yet. It is so humorous, and it hits my little frailties with so +neat (and so friendly) a touch; and Alan is the occasion for so much +happy talk, and the quarrel is so generously praised. I read it twice, +though it was only some hours in my possession; and Low, who got it for +me from the Century, sat up to finish it ere he returned it; and, sir, +we were all delighted. Here is the paper out, nor will anything, not +even friendship, not even gratitude for the article, induce me to begin +a second sheet; so here, with the kindest remembrances and the warmest +good wishes, I remain, yours affectionately, + + R. L. S. + + + + +TO CHARLES BAXTER + + + _[Saranac Lake], 18th November 1887._ + +MY DEAR CHARLES,--No likely I'm going to waste a sheet of paper.... I am +offered L1600 ($8000) for the American serial rights on my next story! +As you say, times are changed since the Lothian Road. Well, the Lothian +Road was grand fun too; I could take an afternoon of it with great +delight. But I'm awfu' grand noo, and long may it last! + +Remember me to any of the faithful--if there are any left. I wish I +could have a crack with you.--Yours ever affectionately, + + R. L. S. + + +I find I have forgotten more than I remembered of business.... Please +let us know (if you know) for how much Skerryvore is let; you will here +detect the female mind; I let it for what I could get; nor shall the +possession of this knowledge (which I am happy to have forgot) increase +the amount by so much as the shadow of a sixpenny piece; but my females +are agog.--Yours ever, + + R. L. S. + + + + +TO CHARLES SCRIBNER + + + Shortly after the date of the present correspondence Stevenson, to + his great advantage, put all his publishing arrangements (as he had + already put his private business) into the hands of his friend Mr. + Baxter. Meantime he was managing them himself; and an occasional + lapse of memory or attention betrayed him once or twice into + misunderstandings, and once at least conflicting agreements with two + different publishers, both his friends. He was the first to denounce + the error when he became aware of it, and suffered sharply from the + sense of his own unintentional fault. The next two letters, and some + allusions in those which follow, relate to this affair. + + [_Saranac Lake, November 20 or 21, 1887._] + +MY DEAR MR. SCRIBNER,--Heaven help me, I am under a curse just now. I +have played fast and loose with what I said to you; and that, I beg you +to believe, in the purest innocence of mind. I told you you should have +the power over all my work in this country; and about a fortnight ago, +when M'Clure was here, I calmly signed a bargain for the serial +publication of a story. You will scarce believe that I did this in mere +oblivion; but I did; and all that I can say is that I will do so no +more, and ask you to forgive me. Please write to me soon as to this. + +Will you oblige me by paying in for three articles, as already sent, to +my account with John Paton & Co., 52 William Street? This will be most +convenient for us. + +The fourth article is nearly done; and I am the more deceived, or it is +_A Buster_. + +Now as to the first thing in this letter, I do wish to hear from you +soon; and I am prepared to hear any reproach, or (what is harder to +hear) any forgiveness; for I have deserved the worst.--Yours sincerely, + + ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. + + + + +TO E. L. BURLINGAME + + + This is the first of many letters, increasing in friendliness as the + correspondence goes on, to the editor of Scribner's Magazine. + + [_Saranac Lake, November 1887._] + +DEAR MR. BURLINGAME,--I enclose corrected proof of _Beggars_, which +seems good. I mean to make a second sermon, which, if it is about the +same length as _Pulvis et Umbra_, might go in along with it as two +sermons, in which case I should call the first "The Whole Creation," and +the second "Any Good." We shall see; but you might say how you like the +notion. + +One word: if you have heard from Mr. Scribner of my unhappy oversight in +the matter of a story, you will make me ashamed to write to you, and yet +I wish to beg you to help me into quieter waters. The oversight +committed--and I do think it was not so bad as Mr. Scribner seems to +think it--and discovered, I was in a miserable position. I need not tell +you that my first impulse was to offer to share or to surrender the +price agreed upon when it should fall due; and it is almost to my credit +that I arranged to refrain. It is one of these positions from which +there is no escape; I cannot undo what I have done. And I wish to beg +you--should Mr. Scribner speak to you in the matter--to try to get him +to see this neglect of mine for no worse than it is: unpardonable +enough, because a breach of an agreement; but still pardonable, because +a piece of sheer carelessness and want of memory, done, God knows, +without design and since most sincerely regretted. I have no memory. You +have seen how I omitted to reserve the American rights in _Jekyll_: last +winter I wrote and demanded, as an increase, a less sum than had already +been agreed upon for a story that I gave to Cassell's. For once that my +forgetfulness has, by a cursed fortune, seemed to gain, instead of lose, +me money, it is painful indeed that I should produce so poor an +impression on the mind of Mr. Scribner. But I beg you to believe, and if +possible to make him believe, that I am in no degree or sense a +_faiseur_, and that in matters of business my design, at least, is +honest. Nor (bating bad memory and self-deception) am I untruthful in +such affairs. + +If Mr. Scribner shall have said nothing to you in the matter, please +regard the above as unwritten, and believe me, yours very truly, + + ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. + + + + +TO E. L. BURLINGAME + + + [_Saranac Lake, November 1887._] + +DEAR MR. BURLINGAME,--The revise seemed all right, so I did not trouble +you with it; indeed, my demand for one was theatrical, to impress that +obdurate dog, your reader. Herewith a third paper: it has been a cruel +long time upon the road, but here it is, and not bad at last, I fondly +hope. I was glad you liked the _Lantern Bearers_; I did, too. I thought +it was a good paper, really contained some excellent sense, and was +ingeniously put together. I have not often had more trouble than I have +with these papers; thirty or forty pages of foul copy, twenty is the +very least I have had. Well, you pay high; it is fit that I should have +to work hard, it somewhat quiets my conscience.--Yours very truly, + + ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. + + + + +TO JOHN ADDINGTON SYMONDS + + + _Saranac Lake, Adirondack Mountains, + New York, U.S.A., November 21, 1887._ + +MY DEAR SYMONDS,--I think we have both meant and wanted to write to you +any time these months; but we have been much tossed about, among new +faces and old, and new scenes and old, and scenes (like this of Saranac) +which are neither one nor other. To give you some clue to our affairs, I +had best begin pretty well back. We sailed from the Thames in a vast +bucket of iron that took seventeen days from shore to shore. I cannot +describe how I enjoyed the voyage, nor what good it did me; but on the +Banks I caught friend catarrh. In New York and then in Newport I was +pretty ill; but on my return to New York, lying in bed most of the time, +with St. Gaudens the sculptor sculping me, and my old friend Low around, +I began to pick up once more. Now here we are in a kind of wilderness of +hills and firwoods and boulders and snow and wooden houses. So far as we +have gone the climate is grey and harsh, but hungry and somnolent; and +although not charming like that of Davos, essentially bracing and +briskening. The country is a kind of insane mixture of Scotland and a +touch of Switzerland and a dash of America, and a thought of the British +Channel in the skies. We have a decent house-- + + +_December 6th._--A decent house, as I was saying, sir, on a hill-top, +with a look down a Scottish river in front, and on one hand a Perthshire +hill; on the other, the beginnings and skirts of the village play hide +and seek among other hills. We have been below zero, I know not how far +(-10 at 8 A.M. once), and when it is cold it is delightful; but hitherto +the cold has not held, and we have chopped in and out from frost to +thaw, from snow to rain, from quiet air to the most disastrous +north-westerly curdlers of the blood. After a week of practical thaw, +the ice still bears in favoured places. So there is hope. + +I wonder if you saw my book of verses? It went into a second edition, +because of my name, I suppose, and its _prose_ merits. I do not set up +to be a poet. Only an all-round literary man: a man who talks, not one +who sings. But I believe the very fact that it was only speech served +the book with the public. Horace is much a speaker, and see how popular! +Most of Martial is only speech, and I cannot conceive a person who does +not love his Martial; most of Burns, also, such as "The Louse," "The +Toothache," "The Haggis," and lots more of his best. Excuse this little +apology for my house; but I don't like to come before people who have a +note of song, and let it be supposed I do not know the difference. + +To return to the more important--news. My wife again suffers in high and +cold places; I again profit. She is off to-day to New York for a change, +as heretofore to Berne, but I am glad to say in better case than then. +Still it is undeniable she suffers, and you must excuse her (at least) +if we both prove bad correspondents. I am decidedly better, but I have +been terribly cut up with business complications: one disagreeable, as +threatening loss; one, of the most intolerable complexion, as involving +me in dishonour. The burthen of consistent carelessness: I have lost +much by it in the past; and for once (to my damnation) I have gained. I +am sure you will sympathise. It is hard work to sleep; it is hard to be +told you are a liar, and have to hold your peace, and think, "Yes, by +God, and a thief too!" You remember my lectures on Ajax, or the +Unintentional Sin? Well, I know all about that now. Nothing seems so +unjust to the sufferer: or is more just in essence. _Laissez passer la +justice de Dieu._ + +Lloyd has learned to use the typewriter, and has most gallantly +completed upon that the draft of a tale, which seems to me not without +merit and promise, it is so silly, so gay, so absurd, in spots (to my +partial eyes) so genuinely humorous. It is true, he would not have +written it but for the _New Arabian Nights_; but it is strange to find a +young writer funny. Heavens, but I was depressing when I took the pen in +hand! And now I doubt if I am sadder than my neighbours. Will this +beginner move in the inverse direction? + +Let me have your news, and believe me, my dear Symonds, with genuine +affection, yours, + + ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. + + + + +TO W. E. HENLEY + + + The following refers to a volume on the elder Dumas, which Mr. Henley + was at this time preparing to write, and which he proposed to + dedicate to his friend. + + _Saranac [December 1887]._ + +MY DEAR LAD,--I was indeed overjoyed to hear of the Dumas. In the matter +of the dedication, are not cross dedications a little awkward? Lang and +Rider Haggard did it, to be sure. Perpend. And if you should conclude +against a dedication, there is a passage in _Memories and Portraits_ +written _at_ you, when I was most desperate (to stir you up a bit), +which might be quoted: something about Dumas still waiting his +biographer. I have a decent time when the weather is fine; when it is +grey, or windy or wet (as it too often is), I am merely degraded to the +dirt. I get some work done every day with a devil of a heave; not extra +good ever; and I regret my engagement. Whiles I have had the most +deplorable business annoyances too; have been threatened with having to +refund money; got over that; and found myself in the worst scrape of +being a kind of unintentional swindler. These have worried me a great +deal; also old age with his stealing steps seems to have clawed me in +his clutch to some tune. + +Do you play All Fours? We are trying it; it is still all haze to me. Can +the elder hand _beg_ more than once? The Port Admiral is at Boston +mingling with millionaires. I am but a weed on Lethe wharf. The wife is +only so-so. The Lord lead us all: if I can only get off the stage with +clean hands, I shall sing Hosanna. "Put" is described quite differently +from your version in a book I have; what are your rules? The Port +Admiral is using a game of Put in a tale of his, the first copy of +which was gloriously finished about a fortnight ago, and the revise +gallantly begun: _The Finsbury Tontine_ it is named, and might fill two +volumes, and is quite incredibly silly, and in parts (it seems to me) +pretty humorous.--Love to all from + + AN OLD, OLD MAN. + + +I say, _Taine's Origines de la France Contemporaine_ is no end; it would +turn the dead body of Charles Fox into a living Tory. + + + + +TO MRS. FLEEMING JENKIN + + + [_Saranac Lake, December 1887._] + +MY DEAR MRS. JENKIN,--The Opal is very well; it is fed with glycerine +when it seems hungry. I am very well, and get about much more than I +could have hoped. My wife is not very well; there is no doubt the high +level does not agree with her, and she is on the move for a holiday to +New York. Lloyd is at Boston on a visit, and I hope has a good time. My +mother is really first-rate; she and I, despairing of other games for +two, now play All Fours out of a gamebook, and have not yet discovered +its niceties, if any. + +You will have heard, I dare say, that they made a great row over me +here. They also offered me much money, a great deal more than my works +are worth: I took some of it, and was greedy and hasty, and am now very +sorry. I have done with big prices from now out. Wealth and self-respect +seem, in my case, to be strangers. + +We were talking the other day of how well Fleeming managed to grow rich. +Ah, that is a rare art; something more intellectual than a virtue. The +book has not yet made its appearance here; the Life alone, with a little +preface, is to appear in the States; and the Scribners are to send you +half the royalties. I should like it to do well, for Fleeming's sake. + +Will you please send me the Greek water-carrier's song? I have a +particular use for it. + +Have I any more news, I wonder?--and echo wonders along with me. I am +strangely disquieted on all political matters; and I do not know if it +is "the signs of the times" or the sign of my own time of life. But to +me the sky seems black both in France and England, and only partly clear +in America. I have not seen it so dark in my time; of that I am sure. + +Please let us have some news; and excuse me, for the sake of my +well-known idleness; and pardon Fanny, who is really not very well, for +this long silence.--Very sincerely your friend, + + ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. + + + + +TO MISS ADELAIDE BOODLE + + + The lady at Bournemouth (the giver of the paper-knife) to whom the + following letter is addressed had been trusted to keep an eye on + Stevenson's interests in connection with his house (which had been + let) and other matters, and to report thereon from time to time. In + their correspondence Stevenson is generally referred to as the Squire + and the lady as the Gamekeeper. + + [_Saranac Lake, December 1887._] + +MY DEAR MISS BOODLE,--I am so much afraid our gamekeeper may weary of +unacknowledged reports! Hence, in the midst of a perfect horror of +detestable weathers of a quite incongruous strain, and with less desire +for correspondence than--well, than--well, with no desire for +correspondence, behold me dash into the breach. Do keep up your letters. +They are most delightful to this exiled backwoods family; and in your +next, we shall hope somehow or other to hear better news of you and +yours--that in the first place--and to hear more news of our beasts and +birds and kindly fruits of earth and those human tenants who are (truly) +too much with us. + +I am very well; better than for years: that is for good. But then my +wife is no great shakes; the place does not suit her--it is my private +opinion that no place does--and she is now away down to New York for a +change, which (as Lloyd is in Boston) leaves my mother and me and +Valentine alone in our wind-beleaguered hill-top hat-box of a house. You +should hear the cows butt against the walls in the early morning while +they feed; you should also see our back log when the thermometer goes +(as it does go) away--away below zero, till it can be seen no more by +the eye of man--not the thermometer, which is still perfectly visible, +but the mercury, which curls up into the bulb like a hibernating bear; +you should also see the lad who "does chores" for us, with his red +stockings and his thirteen-year-old face, and his highly manly tramp +into the room; and his two alternative answers to all questions about +the weather: either "Cold," or with a really lyrical movement of the +voice, "_Lovely_--raining!" + +Will you take this miserable scrap for what it is worth? Will you also +understand that I am the man to blame, and my wife is really almost too +much out of health to write, or at least doesn't write?--And believe me, +with kind remembrances to Mrs. Boodle and your sisters, very sincerely +yours, + + ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. + + + + +TO CHARLES BAXTER + + + The supposed Lord Warmingpan of the following was really Lord + Pollexfen. + + _Saranac, 12th December '87._ + +Give us news of all your folk. A Merry Christmas from all of us. + + +MY DEAR CHARLES,--Will you please send L20 to ---- for a Christmas gift +from ----? Moreover, I cannot remember what I told you to send to ----; +but as God has dealt so providentially with me this year, I now propose +to make it L20. + +I beg of you also to consider my strange position. I jined a club which +it was said was to defend the Union; and I had a letter from the +secretary, which his name I believe was Lord Warmingpan (or words to +that effect), to say I am elected, and had better pay up a certain sum +of money, I forget what. Now I cannae verra weel draw a blank cheque and +send to-- + + LORD WARMINGPAN (or words to that effect), + London, England. + +And, man, if it was possible, I would be dooms glad to be out o' this +bit scrapie. Mebbe the club was ca'd "The Union," but I wouldnae like to +sweir; and mebbe it wasnae, or mebbe only words to that effec'--but I +wouldnae care just exac'ly about sweirin'. Do ye no think Henley, or +Pollick, or some o' they London fellies, micht mebbe perhaps find out +for me? and just what the soom was? And that you would aiblins pay for +me? For I thocht I was sae dam patriotic jinin', and it would be a kind +o' a come-doun to be turned out again. Mebbe Lang would ken; or mebbe +Rider Haggyard: they're kind o' Union folks. But it's my belief his name +was Warmingpan whatever.--Yours, + + THOMSON, + _alias_ ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. + +Could it be Warminster? + + + + +TO MISS MONROE + + + The play of DEACON BRODIE was at this time being performed at + Chicago, with Mr. E. J. Henley in the title-part. + + _Saranac Lake, New York [December 19, 1887]._ + +DEAR MISS MONROE,--Many thanks for your letter and your good wishes. It +was much my desire to get to Chicago: had I done--or if I yet do--so, I +shall hope to see the original of my photograph, which is one of my show +possessions; but the fates are rather contrary. My wife is far from +well; I myself dread, worse than almost any other imaginable peril, that +miraculous and really insane invention the American Railroad Car. +Heaven help the man--may I add the woman--that sets foot in one! Ah, if +it were only an ocean to cross, it would be a matter of small thought to +me--and great pleasure. But the railroad car--every man has his weak +point; and I fear the railroad car as abjectly as I do an earwig, and, +on the whole, on better grounds. You do not know how bitter it is to +have to make such a confession; for you have not the pretension nor the +weakness of a man. If I do get to Chicago, you will hear of me: so much +can be said. And do you never come east? + +I was pleased to recognise a word of my poor old _Deacon_ in your +letter. It would interest me very much to hear how it went and what you +thought of piece and actors; and my collaborator, who knows and respects +the photograph, would be pleased too.--Still in the hope of seeing you, +I am, yours very truly, + + ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. + + + + +TO HENRY JAMES + + + _Saranac Lake, Winter 1887-88._ + +MY DEAR HENRY JAMES,--It may please you to know how our family has been +employed. In the silence of the snow the afternoon lamp has lighted an +eager fireside group: my mother reading, Fanny, Lloyd, and I devoted +listeners; and the work was really one of the best works I ever heard; +and its author is to be praised and honoured; and what do you suppose is +the name of it? and have you ever read it yourself? and (I am bound I +will get to the bottom of the page before I blow the gaff, if I have to +fight it out on this line all summer; for if you have not to turn a +leaf, there can be no suspense, the conspectory eye being swift to pick +out proper names; and without suspense, there can be little pleasure in +this world, to my mind at least)--and, in short, the name of it is +_Roderick Hudson_, if you please. My dear James, it is very spirited, +and very sound, and very noble too. Hudson, Mrs. Hudson, Rowland, O, all +first-rate: Rowland a very fine fellow; Hudson as good as he can stick +(did you know Hudson? I suspect you did), Mrs. H. his real born mother, +a thing rarely managed in fiction. + +We are all keeping pretty fit and pretty hearty; but this letter is not +from me to you, it is from a reader of _R. H._ to the author of the +same, and it says nothing, and has nothing to say, but thank you. + +We are going to re-read _Casamassima_ as a proper pendant. Sir, I think +these two are your best, and care not who knows it. + +May I beg you, the next time _Roderick_ is printed off, to go over the +sheets of the last few chapters, and strike out "immense" and +"tremendous"? You have simply dropped them there like your +pocket-handkerchief; all you have to do is to pick them up and pouch +them, and your room--what do I say?--your cathedral!--will be swept and +garnished.--I am, dear sir, your delighted reader, + + ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. + + +_P.S._--Perhaps it is a pang of causeless honesty, perhaps I hope it +will set a value on my praise of _Roderick_, perhaps it's a burst of the +diabolic, but I must break out with the news that I can't bear the +_Portrait of a Lady_. I read it all, and I wept too; but I can't stand +your having written it; and I beg you will write no more of the like. +_Infra_, sir; Below you: I can't help it--it may be your favourite work, +but in my eyes it's BELOW YOU to write and me to read. I thought +_Roderick_ was going to be another such at the beginning; and I cannot +describe my pleasure as I found it taking bones and blood, and looking +out at me with a moved and human countenance, whose lineaments are +written in my memory until my last of days. + + R. L. S. + + +My wife begs your forgiveness; I believe for her silence. + + + + +TO SIDNEY COLVIN + + + _Saranac Lake [December 1887]._ + +MY DEAR COLVIN,--This goes to say that we are all fit, and the place is +very bleak and wintry, and up to now has shown no such charms of climate +as Davos, but is a place where men eat and where the cattarh, catarrh +(cattarrh, or cattarrhh) appears to be unknown. I walk in my verandy in +the snaw, sir, looking down over one of those dabbled wintry landscapes +that are (to be frank) so chilly to the human bosom, and up at a grey, +English--nay, _mehercle_, Scottish--heaven; and I think it pretty bleak; +and the wind swoops at me round the corner, like a lion, and fluffs the +snow in my face; and I could aspire to be elsewhere; but yet I do not +catch cold, and yet, when I come in, I eat. So that hitherto Saranac, if +not deliriously delectable, has not been a failure; nay, from the mere +point of view of the wicked body, it has proved a success. But I wish I +could still get to the woods; alas, _nous n'irons plus au bois_ is my +poor song; the paths are buried, the dingles drifted full, a little walk +is grown a long one; till spring comes, I fear the burthen will hold +good. + +I get along with my papers for Scribner not fast, nor so far specially +well; only this last, the fourth one (which makes a third part of my +whole task), I do believe is pulled off after a fashion. It is a mere +sermon: "Smith opens out";[24] but it is true, and I find it touching +and beneficial, to me at least; and I think there is some fine writing +in it, some very apt and pregnant phrases. _Pulvis et Umbra_, I call it; +I might have called it a Darwinian Sermon, if I had wanted. Its +sentiments, although parsonic, will not offend even you, I believe. The +other three papers, I fear, bear many traces of effort, and the +ungenuine inspiration of an income at so much per essay, and the honest +desire of the incomer to give good measure for his money. Well, I did my +damndest anyway. + +We have been reading H. James's _Roderick Hudson_, which I eagerly press +you to get at once: it is a book of a high order--the last volume in +particular. I wish Meredith would read it. It took my breath away. + +I am at the seventh book of the _AEneid_, and quite amazed at its merits +(also very often floored by its difficulties). The Circe passage at the +beginning, and the sublime business of Amata with the simile of the +boy's top--O Lord, what a happy thought!--have specially delighted +me.--I am, dear sir, your respected friend, + + JOHN GREGG GILLSON, J.P., M.R.I.A., etc. + + + + +TO SIDNEY COLVIN + + + The following narrates the beginning of the author's labours on _The + Master of Ballantrae_. An unfinished paper written some years later + in Samoa, and intended for Scribner's Magazine, tells how the story + first took shape in his mind. See Edinburgh edition, _Miscellanies_, + vol. iv. p. 297: reprinted in _Essays on the Art of Writing_. + + [_Saranac Lake, December 24, 1887._] + +MY DEAR COLVIN,--Thank you for your explanations. I have done no more +Virgil since I finished the seventh book, for I have first been eaten up +with Taine, and next have fallen head over heels into a new tale, _The +Master of Ballantrae_. No thought have I now apart from it, and I have +got along up to page ninety-two of the draft with great interest. It is +to me a most seizing tale: there are some fantastic elements; the most +is a dead genuine human problem--human tragedy, I should say rather. It +will be about as long, I imagine, as _Kidnapped_. + +DRAMATIS PERSONAE: + + (1) My old Lord Durrisdeer. + + (2) The Master of Ballantrae, _and_ + + (3) Henry Durie, _his sons_. + + (4) Clementina,[25] _engaged to the first, married to the second_. + + (5) Ephraim Mackellar, _land steward at Durrisdeer and narrator of the + most of the book_. + + (6) Francis Burke, Chevalier de St. Louis, _one of Prince Charlie's + Irishmen and narrator of the rest_. + +Besides these, many instant figures, most of them dumb or nearly so: +Jessie Brown the whore, Captain Crail, Captain MacCombie, our old friend +Alan Breck, our old friend Riach (both only for an instant), Teach the +pirate (vulgarly Blackbeard), John Paul and Macconochie, servants at +Durrisdeer. The date is from 1745 to '65 (about). The scene, near +Kirkcudbright, in the States, and for a little moment in the French East +Indies. I have done most of the big work, the quarrel, duel between the +brothers, and announcement of the death to Clementina and my +Lord--Clementina, Henry, and Mackellar (nicknamed Squaretoes) are really +very fine fellows; the Master is all I know of the devil. I have known +hints of him, in the world, but always cowards; he is as bold as a lion, +but with the same deadly, causeless duplicity I have watched with so +much surprise in my two cowards. 'Tis true, I saw a hint of the same +nature in another man who was not a coward; but he had other things to +attend to; the Master has nothing else but his devilry. Here come my +visitors--and have now gone, or the first relay of them; and I hope no +more may come. For mark you, sir, this is our "day"--Saturday, as ever +was; and here we sit, my mother and I, before a large wood fire and +await the enemy with the most steadfast courage; and without snow and +greyness: and the woman Fanny in New York for her health, which is far +from good; and the lad Lloyd at the inn in the village because he has a +cold; and the handmaid Valentine abroad in a sleigh upon her messages; +and to-morrow Christmas and no mistake. Such is human life: _la carriere +humaine_. I will enclose, if I remember, the required autograph. + +I will do better, put it on the back of this page. Love to all, and +mostly, my very dear Colvin, to yourself. For whatever I say or do, or +don't say or do, you may be very sure I am--Yours always affectionately, + + R. L. S. + + + + +TO MISS ADELAIDE BOODLE + + + _Saranac Lake, Christmas 1887._ + +MY DEAR MISS BOODLE,---And a very good Christmas to you all; and better +fortune; and if worse, the more courage to support it--which I think is +the kinder wish in all human affairs. Somewhile--I fear a good +while--after this, you should receive our Christmas gift; we have no +tact and no taste, only a welcome and (often) tonic brutality; and I +dare say the present, even after my friend Baxter has acted on and +reviewed my hints, may prove a White Elephant. That is why I dread +presents. And therefore pray understand if any element of that hamper +prove unwelcome, _it is to be exchanged_. I will not sit down under the +name of a giver of White Elephants. I never had any elephant but one, +and his initials were R. L. S.; and he trod on my foot at a very early +age. But this is a fable, and not in the least to the point: which is +that if, for once in my life, I have wished to make things nicer for +anybody but the Elephant (see fable), do not suffer me to have made them +ineffably more embarrassing, and exchange--ruthlessly exchange! + +For my part, I am the most cockered up of any mortal being; and one of +the healthiest, or thereabout, at some modest distance from the bull's +eye. I am condemned to write twelve articles in Scribner's Magazine for +the love of gain; I think I had better send you them; what is far more +to the purpose, I am on the jump with a new story which has bewitched +me--I doubt it may bewitch no one else. It is called _The Master of +Ballantrae_--pronounce B[=a]ll[)a]n-tray. If it is not good, well, mine +will be the fault; for I believe it is a good tale. + +The greetings of the season to you, and your mother, and your sisters. +My wife heartily joins.--And I am, yours very sincerely, + + ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. + + +_P.S._--You will think me an illiterate dog: I am, for the first time, +reading Robertson's sermons. I do not know how to express how much I +think of them. If by any chance you should be as illiterate as I, and +not know them, it is worth while curing the defect. + + R. L. S. + + + + +TO CHARLES BAXTER + + + The following letter invites Mr. Baxter to allow himself (under an + _alias_) and his office in Edinburgh to figure in a preface to the + new story. Such a preface was drafted accordingly, but on second + thoughts suppressed; to be, on renewed consideration, reinstated in + the final editions. + + _Saranac Lake, January '88._ + +DEAR CHARLES,--You are the flower of Doers.... Will my doer collaborate +thus much in my new novel? In the year 1794 or 5, Mr. Ephraim Mackellar, +A.M., late steward on the Durrisdeer estates, completed a set of +memoranda (as long as a novel) with regard to the death of the (then) +late Lord Durrisdeer, and as to that of his attainted elder brother, +called by the family courtesy title the Master of Ballantrae. These he +placed in the hand of John Macbrair, W.S., the family agent, on the +understanding they were to be sealed until 1862, when a century would +have elapsed since the affair in the wilderness (my lord's death). You +succeeded Mr. Macbrair's firm; the Durrisdeers are extinct; and last +year, in an old green box, you found these papers with Macbrair's +indorsation. It is that indorsation of which I want a copy; you may +remember, when you gave me the papers, I neglected to take that, and I +am sure you are a man too careful of antiquities to have let it fall +aside. I shall have a little introduction descriptive of my visit to +Edinburgh, arrival there, denner with yoursel', and first reading of the +papers in your smoking-room: all of which, of course, you well +remember.--Ever yours affectionately, + + R. L. S. + + +Your name is my friend Mr. Johnstone Thomson, W.S.!!! + + + + +TO E. L. BURLINGAME + + + _Saranac Lake, Winter 1887-88._ + +DEAR MR. BURLINGAME,--I am keeping the sermon to see if I can't add +another. Meanwhile, I will send you very soon a different paper which +may take its place. Possibly some of these days soon I may get together +a talk on things current, which should go in (if possible) earlier than +either. I am now less nervous about these papers; I believe I can do the +trick without great strain, though the terror that breathed on my back +in the beginning is not yet forgotten. + +The _Master of Ballantrae_ I have had to leave aside, as I was quite +worked out. But in about a week I hope to try back and send you the +first four numbers: these are all drafted, it is only the revision that +has broken me down, as it is often the hardest work. These four I +propose you should set up for me at once, and we'll copyright 'em in a +pamphlet. I will tell you the names of the _bona fide_ purchasers in +England. + +The numbers will run from twenty to thirty pages of my manuscript. You +can give me that much, can you not? It is a howling good tale--at least +these first four numbers are; the end is a trifle more fantastic, but +'tis all picturesque. + +Don't trouble about any more French books; I am on another scent, you +see, just now. Only the _French in Hindustan_ I await with impatience, +as that is for _Ballantrae_. The scene of that romance is Scotland---the +States--Scotland--India---Scotland--and the States again; so it jumps +like a flea. I have enough about the States now, and very much obliged I +am; yet if Drake's _Tragedies of the Wilderness_ is (as I gather) a +collection of originals, I should like to purchase it. If it is a +picturesque vulgarisation, I do not wish to look it in the face. +Purchase, I say; for I think it would be well to have some such +collection by me with a view to fresh works.--Yours very sincerely, + + ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. + + +_P.S._--If you think of having the _Master_ illustrated, I suggest that +Hole would be very well up to the Scottish, which is the larger, part. +If you have it done here, tell your artist to look at the hall of +Craigievar in Billing's _Baronial and Ecclesiastical Antiquities_, and +he will get a broad hint for the hall at Durrisdeer: it is, I think, the +chimney of Craigievar and the roof of Pinkie, and perhaps a little more +of Pinkie altogether; but I should have to see the book myself to be +sure. Hole would be invaluable for this. I dare say if you had it +illustrated, you could let me have one or two for the English edition. + + R. L. S. + + + + +TO WILLIAM ARCHER + + + The following refers to Mr. Bernard Shaw's novel, _Cashel Byron's + Profession_, which had been sent Stevenson to read by their common + friend Mr. Archer. + + [_Saranac Lake, Winter 1887-88._] + +MY DEAR ARCHER,--What am I to say? I have read your friend's book with +singular relish. If he has written any other, I beg you will let me see +it; and if he has not, I beg him to lose no time in supplying the +deficiency. It is full of promise; but I should like to know his age. +There are things in it that are very clever, to which I attach small +importance; it is the shape of the age. And there are passages, +particularly the rally in presence of the Zulu king, that show genuine +and remarkable narrative talent--a talent that few will have the wit to +understand, a talent of strength, spirit, capacity, sufficient vision, +and sufficient self-sacrifice, which last is the chief point in a +narrator. + +As a whole, it is (of course) a fever dream of the most feverish. Over +Bashville the footman I howled with derision and delight; I dote on +Bashville--I could read of him for ever; _de Bashville je suis le +fervent_--there is only one Bashville, and I am his devoted slave; +_Bashville est magnifique, mais il n'est guere possible_. He is the note +of the book. It is all mad, mad and deliriously delightful; the author +has a taste in chivalry like Walter Scott's or Dumas', and then he daubs +in little bits of socialism; he soars away on the wings of the romantic +griffon--even the griffon, as he cleaves air, shouting with laughter at +the nature of the quest--and I believe in his heart he thinks he is +labouring in a quarry of solid granite realism. + +It is this that makes me--the most hardened adviser now extant--stand +back and hold my peace. If Mr. Shaw is below five-and-twenty, let him go +his path; if he is thirty, he had best be told that he is a romantic, +and pursue romance with his eyes open;--or perhaps he knows it;--God +knows!--my brain is softened. + +It is HORRID FUN. All I ask is more of it. Thank you for the pleasure +you gave us, and tell me more of the inimitable author. + +(I say, Archer, my God, what women!)--Yours very truly, + + ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. + + +1 part Charles Reade; 1 part Henry James or some kindred author badly +assimilated; 1/2 part Disraeli (perhaps unconscious); 1-1/2 parts +struggling, over-laid original talent; 1 part blooming, gaseous folly. +That is the equation as it stands. What it may be, I don't know, nor any +other man. _Vixere fortes_--O, let him remember that--let him beware of +his damned century; his gifts of insane chivalry and animated narration +are just those that might be slain and thrown out like an untimely birth +by the Daemon of the epoch. And if he only knew how I have adored the +chivalry! Bashville!--_O Bashville! j'en chortle_ (which is fairly +polyglot). + + R. L. S. + + + + +TO WILLIAM ARCHER + + + [_Saranac Lake, February 1888._] + +MY DEAR ARCHER,--Pretty sick in bed; but necessary to protest and +continue your education. + +Why was Jenkin an amateur in my eyes? You think because not amusing (I +think he often was amusing). The reason is this: I never, or almost +never, saw two pages of his work that I could not have put in one +without the smallest loss of material. That is the only test I know of +writing. If there is anywhere a thing said in two sentences that could +have been as clearly and as engagingly and as forcibly said in one, then +it's amateur work. Then you will bring me up with old Dumas. Nay, the +object of a story is to be long, to fill up hours; the story-teller's +art of writing is to water out by continual invention, historical and +technical, and yet not seem to water; seem on the other hand to practise +that same wit of conspicuous and declaratory condensation which is the +proper art of writing. That is one thing in which my stories fail: I am +always cutting the flesh off their bones. + +I would rise from the dead to preach! + +Hope all well. I think my wife better, but she's not allowed to write; +and this (only wrung from me by desire to Boss and Parsonise and +Dominate, strong in sickness) is my first letter for days, and will +likely be my last for many more. Not blame my wife for her silence: +doctor's orders. All much interested by your last, and fragment from +brother, and anecdotes of Tomarcher.--The sick but still Moral + + R. L. S. + + +Tell Shaw to hurry up: I want another. + + + + +TO WILLIAM ARCHER + + + In early days in Paris, Stevenson's chivalrous feelings had once been + shocked by the scene in the _Demi-Monde_ of Dumas fils, where Suzanne + d'Ange is trapped by Olivier de Jalin. His correspondent had asked + what exactly took place. + + [_Saranac Lake, February 1888 ?_] + +MY DEAR ARCHER,--It happened thus. I came forth from that performance in +a breathing heat of indignation. (Mind, at this distance of time and +with my increased knowledge, I admit there is a problem in the piece; +but I saw none then, except a problem in brutality; and I still consider +the problem in that case not established.) On my way down the _Francais_ +stairs, I trod on an old gentleman's toes, whereupon with that suavity +that so well becomes me, I turned about to apologise, and on the +instant, repenting me of that intention, stopped the apology midway, and +added something in French to this effect: No, you are one of the +_laches_ who have been applauding that piece. I retract my apology. Said +the old Frenchman, laying his hand on my arm, and with a smile that was +truly heavenly in temperance, irony, good-nature, and knowledge of the +world, "Ah, monsieur, vous etes bien jeune!"--Yours very truly, + + ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. + + + + +TO E. L. BURLINGAME + + + [_Saranac Lake, February 1888._] + +DEAR MR. BURLINGAME,--Will you send me (from the library) some of the +works of my dear old G. P. R. James? With the following especially I +desire to make or to renew acquaintance: _The Songster_, _The Gipsy_, +_The Convict_, _The Stepmother_, _The Gentleman of the Old School_, _The +Robber_. + +_Excusez du peu._ + +This sudden return to an ancient favourite hangs upon an accident. The +"Franklin County Library" contains two works of his, _The Cavalier_ and +_Morley Ernstein_. I read the first with indescribable amusement--it was +worse than I had feared, and yet somehow engaging; the second (to my +surprise) was better than I had dared to hope: a good, honest, dull, +interesting tale, with a genuine old-fashioned talent in the invention +when not strained; and a genuine old-fashioned feeling for the English +language. This experience awoke appetite, and you see I have taken steps +to stay it. + + R. L. S. + + + + +TO E. L. BURLINGAME + + + [_Saranac Lake, February 1888._] + +DEAR MR. BURLINGAME,--1. Of course then don't use it. Dear Man, I write +these to please you, not myself, and you know a main sight better than I +do what is good. In that case, however, I enclose another paper, and +return the corrected proof of _Pulvis et Umbra_, so that we may be +afloat. + +2. I want to say a word as to the _Master_. (The _Master of Ballantrae_ +shall be the name by all means.) If you like and want it, I leave it to +you to make an offer. You may remember I thought the offer you made when +I was still in England too small; by which I did not at all mean, I +thought it less than it was worth, but too little to tempt me to undergo +the disagreeables of serial publication. This tale (if you want it) you +are to have; for it is the least I can do for you; and you are to +observe that the sum you pay me for my articles going far to meet my +wants, I am quite open to be satisfied with less than formerly. I tell +you I do dislike this battle of the dollars. I feel sure you all pay too +much here in America; and I beg you not to spoil me any more. For I am +getting spoiled: I do not want wealth, and I feel these big sums +demoralise me. + +My wife came here pretty ill; she had a dreadful bad night; to-day she +is better. But now Valentine is ill; and Lloyd and I have got breakfast, +and my hand somewhat shakes after washing dishes.--Yours very sincerely, + + ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. + + +_P.S._--Please order me the Evening Post for two months. My subscription +is run out. The _Mutiny_ and _Edwardes_ to hand. + + + + +TO SIDNEY COLVIN + + + [_Saranac Lake, March 1888._] + +MY DEAR COLVIN,--Fanny has been very unwell. She is not long home, has +been ill again since her return, but is now better again to a degree. +You must not blame her for not writing, as she is not allowed to write +at all, not even a letter. To add to our misfortunes, Valentine is quite +ill and in bed. Lloyd and I get breakfast; I have now, 10.15, just got +the dishes washed and the kitchen all clear, and sit down to give you as +much news as I have spirit for, after such an engagement. Glass is a +thing that really breaks my spirit: I do not like to fail, and with +glass I cannot reach the work of my high calling--the artist's. + +I am, as you may gather from this, wonderfully better: this harsh, grey, +glum, doleful climate has done me good. You cannot fancy how sad a +climate it is. When the thermometer stays all day below 10 deg., it is +really cold; and when the wind blows, O commend me to the result. +Pleasure in life is all delete; there is no red spot left, fires do not +radiate, you burn your hands all the time on what seem to be cold +stones. It is odd, zero is like summer heat to us now; and we like, when +the thermometer outside is really low, a room at about 48 deg.: 60 deg. we find +oppressive. Yet the natives keep their holes at 90 deg. or even 100 deg.. + +This was interrupted days ago by household labours. Since then I have +had and (I tremble to write it, but it does seem as if I had) beaten off +an influenza. The cold is exquisite. Valentine still in bed. The proofs +of the first part of _The Master of Ballantrae_ begin to come in; soon +you shall have it in the pamphlet form; and I hope you will like it. The +second part will not be near so good; but there--we can but do as it'll +do with us. I have every reason to believe this winter has done me real +good, so far as it has gone; and if I carry out my scheme for next +winter, and succeeding years, I should end by being a tower of strength. +I want you to save a good holiday for next winter; I hope we shall be +able to help you to some larks. Is there any Greek Isle you would like +to explore? or any creek in Asia Minor?--Yours ever affectionately, + + R. L. S. + + + + +TO THE REV. DR. CHARTERIS + + The Rev. Dr. Charteris, of Edinburgh, had been one of the most + intimate and trusted friends of Stevenson's father, and R. L. S. + turns to him accordingly for memories and impressions. + + [_Saranac Lake, Winter 1887-88._] + +MY DEAR DR. CHARTERIS,--I have asked Douglas and Foulis to send you my +last volume, so that you may possess my little paper on my father in a +permanent shape; not for what that is worth, but as a tribute of respect +to one whom my father regarded with such love, esteem, and affection. +Besides, as you will see, I have brought you under contribution, and I +have still to thank you for your letter to my mother; so more than kind; +in much, so just. It is my hope, when time and health permit, to do +something more definite for my father's memory. You are one of the very +few who can (if you will) help me. Pray believe that I lay on you no +obligation; I know too well, you may believe me, how difficult it is to +put even two sincere lines upon paper, where all, too, is to order. But +if the spirit should ever move you, and you should recall something +memorable of your friend, his son will heartily thank you for a note of +it.--With much respect, believe me, yours sincerely, + + ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. + + + + +TO EDMUND GOSSE + + + [_Saranac Lake, March 31, 1888._] + +MY DEAR GOSSE,--Why so plaintive? Either the post-office has played us +false, or you were in my debt. In case it should be my letter that has +failed to come to post, I must tell again the fate of Mrs. Gosse's +thermometer. It hangs in our sitting-room, where it has often marked +freezing point and below; "See what Gosse says," is a common word of +command. But the point is this: in the verandah hangs another +thermometer, condemned to register minus 40 deg. and that class of +temperatures; and to him, we have given the name of the Quarterly +Reviewer. I hope the jape likes you. + +Please tell the Fortnightly man that I am sorry but I can do nothing of +that sort this year, as I am under a pledge to Scribner's; and indeed my +monthly articles take the best of my time. It was a project I went into +with horrid diffidence; and lucre was my only motive. I get on better +than I expected, but it is difficult to find an article of the sort +required for each date, and to vary the matter and keep up (if possible) +the merit. I do not know if you think I have at all succeeded; it seemed +to me this really worked paper was more money's worth (as well as +probably better within my means) than the Lang business at the Sign of +the Ship. Indeed I feel convinced I could never have managed that; it +takes a gift to do it. Here is lunch.--Yours afftly., + + R. L. S. + + + + +TO HENRY JAMES + + + [_Saranac Lake, March 1888._] + +MY DEAR DELIGHTFUL JAMES,--To quote your heading to my wife, I think no +man writes so elegant a letter, I am sure none so kind, unless it be +Colvin, and there is more of the stern parent about him. I was vexed at +your account of my admired Meredith: I wish I could go and see him; as +it is I will try to write; and yet (do you understand me?) there is +something in that potent, _genialisch_ affectation that puts one on the +strain even to address him in a letter. He is not an easy man to be +yourself with: there is so much of him, and veracity and the high +athletic intellectual humbug are so intermixed.[26] I read with +indescribable admiration your _Emerson_. I begin to long for the day +when these portraits of yours shall be collected: do put me in. But +Emerson is a higher flight. Have you a _Tourgueneff_? You have told me +many interesting things of him, and I seem to see them written, and +forming a graceful and _bildend_ sketch. (I wonder whence comes this +flood of German--I haven't opened a German book since I teethed.) My +novel is a tragedy; four parts out of six or seven are written, and gone +to Burlingame. Five parts of it are sound, human tragedy; the last one +or two, I regret to say, not so soundly designed; I almost hesitate to +write them; they are very picturesque, but they are fantastic; they +shame, perhaps degrade, the beginning. I wish I knew; that was how the +tale came to me however. I got the situation; it was an old taste of +mine: The older brother goes out in the '45, the younger stays; the +younger, of course, gets title and estate and marries the bride +designate of the elder--a family match, but he (the younger) had always +loved her, and she had really loved the elder. Do you see the situation? +Then the devil and Saranac suggested this _denouement_, and I joined the +two ends in a day or two of constant feverish thought, and began to +write. And now--I wonder if I have not gone too far with the fantastic? +The elder brother is an INCUBUS: supposed to be killed at Culloden, he +turns up again and bleeds the family of money; on that stopping he comes +and lives with them, whence flows the real tragedy, the nocturnal duel +of the brothers (very naturally, and indeed, I think, inevitably +arising), and second supposed death of the elder. Husband and wife now +really make up, and then the cloven hoof appears. For the third supposed +death and the manner of the third reappearance is steep; steep, sir. It +is even very steep, and I fear it shames the honest stuff so far; but +then it is highly pictorial, and it leads up to the death of the elder +brother at the hands of the younger in a perfectly cold-blooded murder, +of which I wish (and mean) the reader to approve. You see how daring is +the design. There are really but six characters, and one of these +episodic, and yet it covers eighteen years, and will be, I imagine, the +longest of my works.--Yours ever, + + R. L. S. + + +_Read Gosse's Raleigh._ First-rate.--Yours ever, + + R. L. S. + + + + +TO THE REV. DR. CHARTERIS + + + _Saranac Lake, Adirondacks, New York, U.S.A. [Spring 1888]._ + +MY DEAR DR. CHARTERIS,--The funeral letter, your notes, and many other +things, are reserved for a book, _Memorials of a Scottish Family_, if +ever I can find time and opportunity. I wish I could throw off all else +and sit down to it to-day. Yes, my father was a "distinctly religious +man," but not a pious. The distinction painfully and pleasurably recalls +old conflicts; it used to be my great gun--and you, who suffered for the +whole Church, know how needful it was to have some reserve artillery! +His sentiments were tragic; he was a tragic thinker. Now, granted that +life is tragic to the marrow, it seems the proper function of religion +to make us accept and serve in that tragedy, as officers in that other +and comparable one of war. Service is the word, active service, in the +military sense; and the religious man--I beg pardon, the pious man--is +he who has a military joy in duty--not he who weeps over the wounded. We +can do no more than try to do our best. Really, I am the grandson of the +manse--I preach you a kind of sermon. Box the brat's ears! + +My mother--to pass to matters more within my competence--finely enjoys +herself. The new country, some new friends we have made, the interesting +experiment of this climate--which (at least) is tragic--all have done +her good. I have myself passed a better winter than for years, and now +that it is nearly over have some diffident hopes of doing well in the +summer and "eating a little more air" than usual. + +I thank you for the trouble you are taking, and my mother joins with me +in kindest regards to yourself and Mrs. Charteris.--Yours very truly, + + ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. + + + + +TO S. R. CROCKETT + + + [_Saranac Lake, Spring 1888_]. + +DEAR MINISTER OF THE FREE KIRK AT PENICUIK,--For O, man, I cannae read +your name!--That I have been so long in answering your delightful letter +sits on my conscience badly. The fact is I let my correspondence +accumulate until I am going to leave a place; and then I pitch in, +overhaul the pile, and my cries of penitence might be heard a mile +about. Yesterday I despatched thirty-five belated letters: conceive the +state of my conscience, above all as the Sins of Omission (see boyhood's +guide, the Shorter Catechism) are in my view the only serious ones; I +call it my view, but it cannot have escaped you that it was also +Christ's. However, all that is not to the purpose, which is to thank you +for the sincere pleasure afforded by your charming letter. I get a good +few such; how few that please me at all, you would be surprised to +learn--or have a singularly just idea of the dulness of our race; how +few that please me as yours did, I can tell you in one word--_None_. I +am no great kirkgoer, for many reasons--and the sermon's one of them, +and the first prayer another, but the chief and effectual reason is the +stuffiness. I am no great kirkgoer, says I, but when I read yon letter +of yours, I thought I would like to sit under ye. And then I saw ye were +to send me a bit buik, and says I, I'll wait for the bit buik, and then +I'll mebbe can read the man's name, and anyway I'll can kill twa birds +wi' ae stane. And, man! the buik was ne'er heard tell o'! + +That fact is an adminicle of excuse for my delay. + +And now, dear minister of the illegible name, thanks to you, and +greeting to your wife, and may you have good guidance in your difficult +labours, and a blessing on your life. + + ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. + + + (No just sae young's he was, though-- + I'm awfae near forty, man.) + Address c/o Charles Scribner's Sons, + 743 Broadway, New York. + +Don't put "N.B." in your paper: put SCOTLAND, and be done with it. Alas, +that I should be thus stabbed in the home of my friends! The name of my +native land is not NORTH BRITAIN, whatever may be the name of yours. + + R. L. S. + + + + +TO MISS FERRIER + + + [_Saranac Lake, April 1888._] + +MY DEAREST COGGIE,--I wish I could find the letter I began to you some +time ago when I was ill; but I can't and I don't believe there was much +in it anyway. We have all behaved like pigs and beasts and barn-door +poultry to you; but I have been sunk in work, and the lad is lazy and +blind and has been working too; and as for Fanny, she has been (and +still is) really unwell. I had a mean hope you might perhaps write again +before I got up steam: I could not have been more ashamed of myself than +I am, and I should have had another laugh. + +They always say I cannot give news in my letters: I shall shake off that +reproach. On Monday, if she is well enough, Fanny leaves for California +to see her friends; it is rather an anxiety to let her go alone; but the +doctor simply forbids it in my case, and she is better anywhere than +here--a bleak, blackguard, beggarly climate, of which I can say no good +except that it suits me and some others of the same or similar +persuasions whom (by all rights) it ought to kill. It is a form of +Arctic St. Andrews, I should imagine; and the miseries of forty degrees +below zero, with a high wind, have to be felt to be appreciated. The +greyness of the heavens here is a circumstance eminently revolting to +the soul; I have near forgot the aspect of the sun--I doubt if this be +news; it is certainly no news to us. My mother suffers a little from the +inclemency of the place, but less on the whole than would be imagined. +Among other wild schemes, we have been projecting yacht voyages; and I +beg to inform you that Cogia Hassan was cast for the part of passenger. +They may come off!--Again this is not news. The lad? Well, the lad wrote +a tale this winter, which appeared to me so funny that I have taken it +in hand, and some of these days you will receive a copy of a work +entitled "_A Game of Bluff_, by Lloyd Osbourne and Robert Louis +Stevenson." + +Otherwise he (the lad) is much as usual. There remains, I believe, to be +considered only R. L. S., the house-bond, prop, pillar, bread-winner, +and bully of the establishment. Well, I do not think him much better; he +is making piles of money; the hope of being able to hire a yacht ere +long dances before his eyes; otherwise he is not in very high spirits at +this particular moment, though compared with last year at Bournemouth an +angel of joy. + +And now is this news, Cogia, or is it not? It all depends upon the point +of view, and I call it news. The devil of it is that I can think of +nothing else, except to send you all our loves, and to wish exceedingly +you were here to cheer us all up. But we'll see about that on board the +yacht.--Your affectionate friend, + + ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. + + + + +TO SIDNEY COLVIN + + + The Mutiny novel here foreshadowed never got written. + + _[Saranac Lake] April 9th!! 1888._ + +MY DEAR COLVIN,--I have been long without writing to you, but am not to +blame. I had some little annoyances quite for a private eye, but they +ran me so hard that I could not write without lugging them in, which +(for several reasons) I did not choose to do. Fanny is off to San +Francisco, and next week I myself flit to New York: address Scribner's. +Where we shall go I know not, nor (I was going to say) care; so bald and +bad is my frame of mind. Do you know our--ahem!--fellow clubman, Colonel +Majendie? I had such an interesting letter from him. Did you see my +sermon? It has evoked the worst feeling: I fear people don't care for +the truth, or else I don't tell it. Suffer me to wander without purpose. +I have sent off twenty letters to-day, and begun and stuck at a +twenty-first, and taken a copy of one which was on business, and +corrected several galleys of proof, and sorted about a bushel of old +letters; so if any one has a right to be romantically stupid it is +I--and I am. Really deeply stupid, and at that stage when in old days I +used to pour out words without any meaning whatever and with my mind +taking no part in the performance. I suspect that is now the case. I am +reading with extraordinary pleasure the life of Lord Lawrence: Lloyd and +I have a mutiny novel-- + +(_Next morning, after twelve other letters_)--mutiny novel on hand--a +tremendous work--so we are all at Indian books. The idea of the novel is +Lloyd's: I call it a novel. 'Tis a tragic romance, of the most tragic +sort: I believe the end will be almost too much for human +endurance--when the hero is thrown to the ground with one of his own +(Sepoy) soldier's knees upon his chest, and the cries begin in the +Beebeeghar. O truly, you know it is a howler! The whole last part +is--well the difficulty is that, short of resuscitating Shakespeare, I +don't know who is to write it. + +I still keep wonderful. I am a great performer before the Lord on the +penny whistle.--Dear sir, sincerely yours, + + ANDREW JACKSON. + + + + +TO MISS ADELAIDE BOODLE + + + _[Saranac Lake, April 1888.] + Address, c/o Messrs. Scribner's Sons, + 743 Broadway, N.Y._ + +MY DEAR GAMEKEEPER,--Your p.c. (proving you a good student of Micawber) +has just arrived, and it paves the way to something I am anxious to say. +I wrote a paper the other day--_Pulvis et Umbra_;--I wrote it with great +feeling and conviction: to me it seemed bracing and healthful, it is in +such a world (so seen by me), that I am very glad to fight out my +battle, and see some fine sunsets, and hear some excellent jests between +whiles round the camp fire. But I find that to some people this vision +of mine is a nightmare, and extinguishes all ground of faith in God or +pleasure in man. Truth I think not so much of; for I do not know it. And +I could wish in my heart that I had not published this paper, if it +troubles folk too much: all have not the same digestion, nor the same +sight of things. And it came over me with special pain that perhaps this +article (which I was at the pains to send to her) might give dismalness +to my _Gamekeeper at Home_. Well, I cannot take back what I have said; +but yet I may add this. If my view be everything but the nonsense that +it may be--to me it seems self-evident and blinding truth--surely of all +things it makes this world holier. There is nothing in it but the moral +side--but the great battle and the breathing times with their +refreshments. I see no more and no less. And if you look again, it is +not ugly, and it is filled with promise. + +Pray excuse a desponding author for this apology. My wife is away off to +the uttermost parts of the States, all by herself. I shall be off, I +hope, in a week; but where? Ah! that I know not. I keep wonderful, and +my wife a little better, and the lad flourishing. We now perform duets +on two D tin whistles; it is no joke to make the bass; I think I must +really send you one, which I wish you would correct.... I may be said to +live for these instrumental labours now, but I have always some +childishness on hand.--I am, dear Gamekeeper, your indulgent but +intemperate Squire, + + ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. + + + + +TO SIDNEY COLVIN + + + Having spent the last fortnight of April at New York, Stevenson and + his stepson moved at the beginning of May to the small New Jersey + watering-place from whence the following few letters are dated: his + wife having meanwhile gone to San Francisco, where she presently made + arrangements for the Pacific yachting trip. + + _Union House, Manasquan, New Jersey [May 1888]._ + +MY DEAR COLVIN,--We are here at a delightful country inn, like a country +French place, the only people in the house, a cat-boat at our disposal, +the sea always audible on the outer beach, the lagoon as smooth as +glass, all the little, queer, many coloured villas standing shuttered +and empty; in front of ours, across the lagoon, two long wooden bridges; +one for the rail, one for the road, sounding with intermittent traffic. +It is highly pleasant, and a delightful change from Saranac. My health +is much better for the change; I am sure I walked about four miles +yesterday, one time with another--well, say three and a half; and the +day before, I was out for four hours in the cat-boat, and was as stiff +as a board in consequence. More letters call.--Yours ever, + + R. L. S. + + + + +TO CHARLES BAXTER + + + _Union House, Manasquan, N. J., but address to + Scribner's, 11th May 1888._ + +_MY DEAR CHARLES_,--I have found a yacht, and we are going the full +pitch for seven months. If I cannot get my health back (more or less), +'tis madness; but, of course, there is the hope, and I will play big.... +If this business fails to set me up, well, L2000 is gone, and I know I +can't get better. We sail from San Francisco, June 15th, for the South +Seas in the yacht _Casco_.--With a million thanks for all your dear +friendliness, ever yours affectionately, + + ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. + + + + +TO LADY TAYLOR + + + [_Manasquan, May 1888._] + +MY DEAR LADY TAYLOR,--I have to announce our great news. On June 15th we +sail from San Francisco in the schooner yacht _Casco_, for a seven +months' cruise in the South Seas. You can conceive what a state of +excitement we are in; Lloyd perhaps first; but this is an old dream of +mine which actually seems to be coming true, and I am sun-struck. It +seems indeed too good to be true; and that we have not deserved so much +good fortune. From Skerryvore to the Galapagos is a far cry! And from +poking in a sick-room all winter to the deck of one's own ship, is +indeed a heavenly change. + +All these seven months I doubt if we can expect more than three mails at +the best of it: and I do hope we may hear something of your news by +each. I have no very clear views as to where the three addresses ought +to be, but if you hear no later news, Charles Scribner's Sons will +always have the run of our intended movements. And an early letter there +would probably catch us at the Sandwich Islands. Tahiti will probably be +the second point: and (as I roughly guess) Quito the third. But the +whole future is invested with heavenly clouds. + +I trust you are all well and content, and have good news of the +Shelleys, to whom I wish you would pass on ours. They should be able to +sympathise with our delight. + +Now I have all my miserable Scribner articles to rake together in the +inside of a fortnight: so you must not expect me to be more copious. I +have you all in the kindest memory, and am, your affectionate friend, + + ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. + + +Remember me to Aubrey de Vere. + + + + +TO HOMER ST. GAUDENS + + + The following is addressed from Manasquan to a boy, the son of the + writer's friend, the sculptor St. Gaudens; for the rest, it explains + itself. + + _Manasquan, New Jersey, 27th May 1888._ + +DEAR HOMER ST. GAUDENS,--Your father has brought you this day to see me, +and he tells me it is his hope you may remember the occasion. I am +going to do what I can to carry out his wish; and it may amuse you, +years after, to see this little scrap of paper and to read what I write. +I must begin by testifying that you yourself took no interest whatever +in the introduction, and in the most proper spirit displayed a +single-minded ambition to get back to play, and this I thought an +excellent and admirable point in your character. You were also (I use +the past tense, with a view to the time when you shall read, rather than +to that when I am writing) a very pretty boy, and (to my European views) +startlingly self-possessed. My time of observation was so limited that +you must pardon me if I can say no more: what else I marked, what +restlessness of foot and hand, what graceful clumsiness, what +experimental designs upon the furniture, was but the common inheritance +of human youth. But you may perhaps like to know that the lean flushed +man in bed, who interested you so little, was in a state of mind +extremely mingled and unpleasant: harassed with work which he thought he +was not doing well, troubled with difficulties to which you will in time +succeed, and yet looking forward to no less a matter than a voyage to +the South Seas and the visitation of savage and desert islands.--Your +father's friend, + + ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. + + + + +TO HENRY JAMES + + + _Manasquan (ahem!), New Jersey, May 28th, 1888._ + +MY DEAR JAMES,--With what a torrent it has come at last! Up to now, what +I like best is the first number of a _London Life_. You have never done +anything better, and I don't know if perhaps you have ever done anything +so good as the girl's outburst: tip-top. I have been preaching your +later works in your native land. I had to present the Beltraffio volume +to Low, and it has brought him to his knees; he was _amazed_ at the +first part of Georgina's Reasons, although (like me) not so well +satisfied with Part II. It is annoying to find the American public as +stupid as the English, but they will waken up in time: I wonder what +they will think of _Two Nations_?... + +This, dear James, is a valedictory. On June 15th the schooner yacht +_Casco_ will (weather and a jealous providence permitting) steam through +the Golden Gates for Honolulu, Tahiti, the Galapagos, Guayaquil, and--I +hope _not_ the bottom of the Pacific. It will contain your obedient +'umble servant and party. It seems too good to be true, and is a very +good way of getting through the green-sickness of maturity which, with +all its accompanying ills, is now declaring itself in my mind and life. +They tell me it is not so severe as that of youth; if I (and the +_Casco_) are spared, I shall tell you more exactly, as I am one of the +few people in the world who do not forget their own lives. + +Good-bye, then, my dear fellow, and please write us a word; we expect to +have three mails in the next two months: Honolulu, Tahiti, and +Guayaquil. But letters will be forwarded from Scribner's, if you hear +nothing more definite directly. In 3 (three) days I leave for San +Francisco.--Ever yours most cordially, + + R. L. S. + + +FOOTNOTES: + + [21] For the actual sum, see below, p. 243. + + [22] "But she was more than usual calm, + She did not give a single dam." + + _Marjorie Fleming._ + + [23] Of the play _Deacon Brodie_. + + [24] "Smith opens out his cauld harangues + On practice and on morals." + + The Rev. George Smith of Galston, the minister thus referred to by + Burns (in the _Holy Fair_), was a great-grandfather of Stevenson on + the mother's side; and against Stevenson himself, in his didactic + moods, the passage was often quoted by his friends when they wished + to tease him. + + [25] Afterwards changed to Alison. + + [26] Alluding to a kind of lofty, posturing manner of G. M.'s in mind + and speech, quite different from any real insincerity. + + + + +X + +PACIFIC VOYAGES + +YACHT _CASCO_--SCHOONER _EQUATOR_--S.S. _JANET NICOLL_ + +JUNE 1888-OCTOBER 1890 + + +In the following section are printed nearly all the letters which +reached Stevenson's correspondents in England and the United States, at +intervals necessarily somewhat rare, during the eighteen months of his +Pacific voyages. It was on the 28th of June 1888 that he started from +the harbour of San Francisco on what was only intended to be a health +and pleasure excursion of a few months' duration, but turned into a +voluntary exile prolonged until the hour of his death. His company +consisted, besides himself, of his wife, his mother, his stepson Mr. +Lloyd Osbourne, and the servant Valentine Roch. They sailed on board the +schooner yacht _Casco_, Captain Otis, and made straight for the +Marquesas, dropping anchor on the 28th of July in Anaho Bay, the harbour +of the island of Nukahiva. The magic effect of this first island +landfall on his mind he has described in the opening chapter of his book +_In the South Seas_. After spending six weeks in this group they sailed +south-eastwards, visiting (a sufficiently perilous piece of navigation) +several of the coral atolls of the Paumotus or Low Archipelago. Thence +they arrived in the first week of October at the Tahitian group or +"Society" islands. In these their longest stay was not at the chief +town, Papeete, where Stevenson fell sharply ill, but in a more secluded +and very beautiful station, Tautira, whither he went to recruit, and +where they were detained by the necessity of remasting the schooner. +Here Stevenson and one of the local chiefs, Ori a Ori, made special +friends and parted with heartfelt mutual regret. Mrs. Stevenson is good +enough to allow me to supplement the somewhat fragmentary account of +these adventures given in his letters with one or two of her own, in +which they are told with full vividness and detail. + +Sailing from Tahiti due northwards through forty degrees of latitude, +the party arrived about Christmas at Honolulu, the more than +semi-civilised capital of the Hawaiian group (Sandwich Islands), where +they paid off the yacht _Casco_ and made a stay of nearly six months. +Here Stevenson finished _The Master of Ballantrae_ and _The Wrong Box_; +and hence his mother returned for a while to Scotland, to rejoin her +son's household when it was fairly installed two years later at Vailima. +From Honolulu Stevenson made several excursions, including one, which +profoundly impressed him, to the leper settlement at Molokai, the scene +of Father Damien's ministrations and death. + +This first year of cruising and residence among the Pacific Islands had +resulted in so encouraging a renewal of health, with so keen a zest +added to life by the restored capacity for outdoor activity and +adventure, that Stevenson determined to prolong his experiences in yet +more remote archipelagoes of the same ocean. He started accordingly from +Honolulu in June 1889 on a trading schooner, the _Equator_, bound to the +Gilberts, one of the least visited and most primitively mannered of all +the island groups of the Western Pacific; emerged towards Christmas of +the same year into semi-civilisation again at Apia, on the island of +Upolu in Samoa, where he wrote his first Polynesian story, _The Bottle +Imp_. Enchanted with the scenery and the people, he stayed for six +weeks, first in the house of Mr. H. J. Moors, a leading American trader, +then with his family in a separate cottage not far off; bought an estate +on the densely wooded mountain side above Apia, with the notion of +making there, if not a home, at least a place of rest and call on later +projected excursions among the islands; and began to make collections +for his studies in recent Samoan history. In February he went on to +Sydney to find his correspondence and consider future plans. It was +during this stay at Sydney that he was moved to give expression to his +righteous indignation at the terms of a letter concerning Father Damien +by the Rev. Dr. Hyde of Honolulu. Here also he fell once more seriously +ill, with a renewal of all his old symptoms; and the conclusion was +forced upon him that he must take up his residence for the rest of his +life in the tropics--though with occasional excursions, as he then +hoped, at least half-way homeward to places where it might be possible +for friends from England to meet him. In order to shake off the effects +of this attack, he started with his party on a fresh sea voyage from +Sydney, this time on a trading steamer, the _Janet Nicoll_, which took +him by a very devious course to the Gilberts again, the Marshalls, and +among many other remote islands during the months of April-August 1890. +During the voyage he began to put into shape the notes for a volume on +the South Seas which he had been compiling ever since he left San +Francisco. Unfortunately, he persisted in the endeavour to make his work +impersonal and full of information, or what he called "serious +interest," exactly in the manner which his wife had foreseen before they +left Honolulu, and from which she had wisely tried to dissuade him (see +her letter printed on pp. 347 foll.). On the return voyage Stevenson +left the _Janet Nicoll_ to land in New Caledonia, staying for some days +at Noumea before he went on to Sydney, where he spent four or five weeks +of later August and September. Thence he returned in October to take up +his abode for good on his Samoan property, where the work of clearing, +planting, and building a habitable cottage had been going on busily +during his absence. + + + + +TO SIDNEY COLVIN + + + It should be remembered that the Marquesas, the Paumotus, and the + Tahitian group are all dependencies of France. + + _Yacht Casco, Anaho Bay, Nukahiva, Marquesas Islands [July 1888]._ + +MY DEAR COLVIN,--From this somewhat (ahem) out of the way place, I write +to say how d'ye do. It is all a swindle: I chose these isles as having +the most beastly population, and they are far better, and far more +civilised than we. I know one old chief Ko-o-amua, a great cannibal in +his day, who ate his enemies even as he walked home from killing 'em, +and he is a perfect gentleman and exceedingly amiable and simple-minded: +no fool, though. + +The climate is delightful; and the harbour where we lie one of the +loveliest spots imaginable. Yesterday evening we had near a score +natives on board; lovely parties. We have a native god; very rare now. +Very rare and equally absurd to view. + +This sort of work is not favourable to correspondence: it takes me all +the little strength I have to go about and see, and then come home and +note, the strangeness around us. I shouldn't wonder if there came +trouble here some day, all the same. I could name a nation that is not +beloved in certain islands--and it does not know it! Strange: like +ourselves, perhaps, in India! Love to all and much to yourself. + + R. L. S. + + + + +TO CHARLES BAXTER + + + _Yacht Casco, at sea, near the Paumotus, + 7 A.M., September 6th, 1888, with a dreadful pen._ + +MY DEAR CHARLES,--Last night as I lay under my blanket in the cockpit, +courting sleep, I had a comic seizure. There was nothing visible but the +southern stars, and the steersman there out by the binnacle lamp; we +were all looking forward to a most deplorable landfall on the morrow, +praying God we should fetch a tuft of palms which are to indicate the +Dangerous Archipelago; the night was as warm as milk, and all of a +sudden I had a vision of--Drummond Street. It came on me like a flash of +lightning: I simply returned thither, and into the past. And when I +remember all I hoped and feared as I pickled about Rutherford's in the +rain and the east wind; how I feared I should make a mere shipwreck, and +yet timidly hoped not; how I feared I should never have a friend, far +less a wife, and yet passionately hoped I might; how I hoped (if I did +not take to drink) I should possibly write one little book, etc. etc. +And then now--what a change! I feel somehow as if I should like the +incident set upon a brass plate at the corner of that dreary +thoroughfare for all students to read, poor devils, when their hearts +are down. And I felt I must write one word to you. Excuse me if I write +little: when I am at sea, it gives me a headache; when I am in port, I +have my diary crying "Give, give." I shall have a fine book of travels, +I feel sure; and will tell you more of the South Seas after very few +months than any other writer has done--except Herman Melville perhaps, +who is a howling cheese. Good luck to you, God bless you.--Your +affectionate friend, + + R. L. S. + + + + +TO SIDNEY COLVIN + + + The signature used at foot of this letter and occasionally elsewhere, + "The Old Man Virulent," alludes to the fits of uncontrollable anger + to which he was often in youth, but by this time very rarely, + subject: fits occasioned sometimes by instances of official stolidity + or impertinence or what he took for such, more often by acts + savouring of cruelty, meanness, or injustice. + + _Fakarava, Low Archipelago, September 21st, 1888._ + +MY DEAR COLVIN,--Only a word. Get out your big atlas, and imagine a +straight line from San Francisco to Anaho, the N.E. corner of Nukahiva, +one of the Marquesas Islands; imagine three weeks there: imagine a day's +sail on August 12th round the eastern end of the island to Tai-o-hae, +the capital; imagine us there till August 22nd: imagine us skirt the +east side of Ua-pu--perhaps Rona-Poa on your atlas--and through the +Bordelais straits to Taa-hauku in Hiva-Oa, where we arrive on the 23rd; +imagine us there until September 4th, when we sailed for Fakarava, which +we reached on the 9th, after a very difficult and dangerous passage +among these isles. Tuesday, we shall leave for Taiti, where I shall +knock off and do some necessary work ashore. It looks pretty bald in the +atlas; not in fact; nor I trust in the 130 odd pages of diary which I +have just been looking up for these dates: the interest, indeed, has +been _incredible_: I did not dream there were such places or such races. +My health has stood me splendidly; I am in for hours wading over the +knees for shells; I have been five hours on horseback: I have been up +pretty near all night waiting to see where the _Casco_ would go ashore, +and with my diary all ready--simply the most entertaining night of my +life. Withal I still have colds; I have one now, and feel pretty sick +too; but not as at home: instead of being in bed, for instance, I am at +this moment sitting snuffling and writing in an undershirt and trousers; +and as for colour, hands, arms, feet, legs, and face, I am browner than +the berry: only my trunk and the aristocratic spot on which I sit retain +the vile whiteness of the north. + +Please give my news and kind love to Henley, Henry James, and any whom +you see of well-wishers. Accept from me the very best of my affection: +and believe me ever yours, + + THE OLD MAN VIRULENT. + + + _Papeete, Taiti, October 7th, 1888._ + +Never having found a chance to send this off, I may add more of my news. +My cold took a very bad turn, and I am pretty much out of sorts at this +particular, living in a little bare one-twentieth-furnished house, +surrounded by mangoes, etc. All the rest are well, and I mean to be +soon. But these Taiti colds are very severe and, to children, often +fatal; so they were not the thing for me. Yesterday the brigantine came +in from San Francisco, so we can get our letters off soon. There are in +Papeete at this moment, in a little wooden house with grated verandahs, +two people who love you very much, and one of them is + + ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. + + + + +TO CHARLES BAXTER + + + _Taiti, as ever was, 6th October 1888._ + +MY DEAR CHARLES,-- ... You will receive a lot of mostly very bad proofs +of photographs: the paper was so bad. Please keep them very private, as +they are for the book. We send them, having learned so dread a fear of +the sea, that we wish to put our eggs in different baskets. We have been +thrice within an ace of being ashore: we were lost (!) for about twelve +hours in the Low Archipelago, but by God's blessing had quiet weather +all the time; and once in a squall, we cam so near gaun heels ower +hurdies, that I really dinnae ken why we didnae a'thegither. Hence, as +I say, a great desire to put our eggs in different baskets, particularly +on the Pacific (aw-haw-haw) Pacific Ocean. + +You can have no idea what a mean time we have had, owing to incidental +beastlinesses, nor what a glorious, owing to the intrinsic interest of +these isles. I hope the book will be a good one; nor do I really very +much doubt that--the stuff is so curious; what I wonder is, if the +public will rise to it. A copy of my journal, or as much of it as is +made, shall go to you also; it is, of course, quite imperfect, much +being to be added and corrected; but O, for the eggs in the different +baskets. + +All the rest are well enough, and all have enjoyed the cruise so far, in +spite of its drawbacks. We have had an awfae time in some ways, Mr. +Baxter; and if I wasnae sic a verra patient man (when I ken that I +_have_ to be) there wad hae been a braw row; and ance if I hadnae +happened to be on deck about three in the marnin', I _think_ there would +have been _murder_ done. The American Mairchant Marine is a kent +service; ye'll have heard its praise, I'm thinkin'; an' if ye never did, +ye can get _Twa Years Before the Mast_, by Dana, whaur forbye a great +deal o' pleisure, ye'll get a' the needcessary information. Love to your +father and all the family.--Ever your affectionate friend, + + ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. + + + + +TO MISS ADELAIDE BOODLE + + + This lady, as we have seen, had made Stevenson a present of a + paper-cutter when he left Bournemouth; and it is in the character of + the paper-cutter that he now writes. + + _Taiti, October 10th, 1888._ + +DEAR GIVER,--I am at a loss to conceive your object in giving me to a +person so locomotory as my proprietor. The number of thousand miles that +I have travelled, the strange bed-fellows with which I have been made +acquainted, I lack the requisite literary talent to make clear to your +imagination. I speak of bed-fellows; pocket-fellows would be a more +exact expression, for the place of my abode is in my master's right-hand +trouser-pocket; and there, as he waded on the resounding beaches of +Nukahiva, or in the shallow tepid water on the reef of Fakarava, I have +been overwhelmed by and buried among all manner of abominable South Sea +shells, beautiful enough in their way, I make no doubt, but singular +company for any self-respecting paper-cutter. He, my master--or as I +more justly call him, my bearer; for although I occasionally serve him, +does not he serve me daily and all day long, carrying me like an African +potentate on my subject's legs?--_he_ is delighted with these isles, and +this climate, and these savages, and a variety of other things. He now +blows a flageolet with singular effects: sometimes the poor thing +appears stifled with shame, sometimes it screams with agony; he pursues +his career with truculent insensibility. Health appears to reign in the +party. I was very nearly sunk in a squall. I am sorry I ever left +England, for here there are no books to be had, and without books there +is no stable situation for, dear Giver, your affectionate + + WOODEN PAPER-CUTTER. + + +A neighbouring pair of scissors snips a kiss in your direction. + + + + +TO SIDNEY COLVIN + + + The ballad referred to in the letter which follows is the _Feast of + Famine_, published with others in the collection of 1890 _Ballads_ + (Chatto & Windus). I never very much admired his South Sea ballads + for any quality except their narrative vigour, thinking them unequal + and uncertain both in metre and style. + + _Taiti, October 16th, 1888._ + +MY DEAR COLVIN,--The cruiser for San Francisco departs to-morrow morning +bearing you some kind of a scratch. This much more important packet will +travel by way of Auckland. It contains a ballant; and I think a better +ballant than I expected ever to do. I can imagine how you will wag your +pow over it; and how ragged you will find it, etc., but has it not +spirit all the same? and though the verse is not all your fancy painted +it, has it not some life? And surely, as narrative, the thing has +considerable merit! Read it, get a typewritten copy taken, and send me +that and your opinion to the Sandwiches. I know I am only courting the +most excruciating mortification; but the real cause of my sending the +thing is that I could bear to go down myself, but not to have much MS. +go down with me. To say truth, we are through the most dangerous; but it +has left in all minds a strong sense of insecurity, and we are all for +putting eggs in various baskets. + +We leave here soon, bound for Uahiva, Raiatea, Bora-Bora, and the +Sandwiches. + + O, how my spirit languishes + To step ashore on the Sanguishes; + For there my letters wait, + There shall I know my fate. + O, how my spirit languidges + To step ashore on the Sanguidges. + +_18th._--I think we shall leave here if all is well on Monday. I am +quite recovered, astonishingly recovered. It must be owned these +climates and this voyage have given me more strength than I could have +thought possible. And yet the sea is a terrible place, stupefying to the +mind and poisonous to the temper, the sea, the motion, the lack of +space, the cruel publicity, the villainous tinned foods, the sailors, +the captain, the passengers--but you are amply repaid when you sight an +island, and drop anchor in a new world. Much trouble has attended this +trip, but I must confess more pleasure. Nor should I ever complain, as +in the last few weeks, with the curing of my illness indeed, as if that +were the bursting of an abscess, the cloud has risen from my spirits and +to some degree from my temper. Do you know what they called the _Casco_ +at Fakarava? The _Silver Ship_. Is that not pretty? Pray tell Mrs. +Jenkin, _die silberne Frau_, as I only learned it since I wrote her. I +think of calling the book by that name: _The Cruise of the Silver +Ship_--so there will be one poetic page at least--the title. At the +Sandwiches we shall say farewell to the _S. S._ with mingled feelings. +She is a lovely creature: the most beautiful thing at this moment in +Taiti. + +Well, I will take another sheet, though I know I have nothing to say. +You would think I was bursting: but the voyage is all stored up for the +book, which is to pay for it, we fondly hope; and the troubles of the +time are not worth telling; and our news is little. + +Here I conclude (Oct. 24th, I think), for we are now stored, and the +Blue Peter metaphorically flies. + + R. L. S. + + + + +TO WILLIAM AND THOMAS ARCHER + + + Stevenson addresses a part of this letter, as well as the whole of + another later on, to a young son of Mr. Archer's, but rather to amuse + himself than his nominal correspondent, who was then aged three + + _Taiti, October 17th, 1888._ + +DEAR ARCHER,--Though quite unable to write letters I nobly send you a +line signifying nothing. The voyage has agreed well with all; it has had +its pains, and its extraordinary pleasures; nothing in the world can +equal the excitement of the first time you cast anchor in some bay of a +tropical island, and the boats begin to surround you, and the tattooed +people swarm aboard. Tell Tomarcher, with my respex, that hide-and-seek +is not equal to it; no, nor hidee-in-the-dark; which, for the matter of +that, is a game for the unskilful: the artist prefers daylight, a +good-sized garden, some shrubbery, an open paddock, and--come on, +Macduff. + +TOMARCHER, I am now a distinguished litterytour, but that was not the +real bent of my genius. I was the best player of hide-and-seek going; +not a good runner, I was up to every shift and dodge, I could jink very +well, I could crawl without any noise through leaves, I could hide under +a carrot plant, it used to be my favourite boast that I always _walked_ +into the den. You may care to hear, Tomarcher, about the children in +these parts; their parents obey them, they do not obey their parents; +and I am sorry to tell you (for I dare say you are already thinking the +idea a good one) that it does not pay one halfpenny. There are three +sorts of civilisation, Tomarcher: the real old-fashioned one, in which +children either had to find out how to please their dear papas, or their +dear papas cut their heads off. This style did very well, but is now out +of fashion. Then the modern European style: in which children have to +behave reasonably well, and go to school and say their prayers, or their +dear papas _will know the reason why_. This does fairly well. Then there +is the South Sea Island plan, which does not do one bit. The children +beat their parents here; it does not make their parents any better; so +do not try it. + +Dear Tomarcher, I have forgotten the address of your new house, but will +send this to one of your papa's publishers. Remember us all to all of +you, and believe me, yours respectably, + + ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. + + + + +TO CHARLES BAXTER + + + _Tautira (The Garden of the World), otherwise called + Hans-Christian-Andersen-ville [November 1888]._ + +MY DEAR CHARLES,--Whether I have a penny left in the wide world, I know +not, nor shall know, till I get to Honolulu, where I anticipate a devil +of an awakening. It will be from a mighty pleasant dream at least: +Tautira being mere Heaven. But suppose, for the sake of argument, any +money to be left in the hands of my painful doer, what is to be done +with it? Save us from exile would be the wise man's choice, I suppose; +for the exile threatens to be eternal. But yet I am of opinion--in case +there should be _some_ dibbs in the hand of the P.D., _i.e._ painful +doer; because if there be none, I shall take to my flageolet on the +high-road, and work home the best way I can, having previously made away +with my family--I am of opinion that if ---- and his are in the +customary state, and you are thinking of an offering, and there should +be still some funds over, you would be a real good P.D. to put some in +with yours and tak' the credit o't, like a wee man! I know it's a +beastly thing to ask, but it, after all, does no earthly harm, only that +much good. And besides, like enough there's nothing in the till, and +there is an end. Yet I live here in the full lustre of millions; it is +thought I am the richest son of man that has yet been to Tautira: +I!--and I am secretly eaten with the fear of lying in pawn, perhaps for +the remainder of my days, in San Francisco. As usual, my colds have much +hashed my finances. + +Do tell Henley I write this just after having dismissed Ori the +sub-chief, in whose house I live, Mrs. Ori, and Pairai, their adopted +child, from the evening hour of music: during which I Publickly (with a +k) Blow on the Flageolet. These are words of truth. Yesterday I told Ori +about W. E. H., counterfeited his playing on the piano and the pipe, and +succeeded in sending the six feet four there is of that sub-chief +somewhat sadly to his bed; feeling that his was not the genuine article +after all. Ori is exactly like a colonel in the Guards.--I am, dear +Charles, ever yours affectionately, + + R. L. S. + + + + +TO CHARLES BAXTER + + + The stanzas which end this letter are well known, having been + printed, with one additional, in _Songs of Travel_; but they gain + effect, I think, from being given here in their place. + + _Tautira, 10th November '88._ + +MY DEAR CHARLES,--Our mainmast is dry-rotten, and we are all to the +devil; I shall lie in a debtor's jail. Never mind, Tautira is first +chop. I am so besotted that I shall put on the back of this my attempt +at words to Wandering Willie; if you can conceive at all the difficulty, +you will also conceive the vanity with which I regard any kind of +result; and whatever mine is like, it has some sense, and Burns's has +none. + + Home no more home to me, whither must I wander? + Hunger my driver, I go where I must. + Cold blows the winter wind over hill and heather; + Thick drives the rain, and my roof is in the dust. + Loved of wise men was the shade of my roof-tree; + The true word of welcome was spoken in the door-- + Dear days of old, with the faces in the firelight, + Kind folks of old, you come again no more. + + Home was home then, my dear, full of kindly faces, + Home was home then, my dear, happy for the child. + Fire and the windows bright glittered on the moorland; + Song, tuneful song, built a palace in the wild. + Now, when day dawns on the brow of the moorland, + Lone stands the house, and the chimney-stone is cold. + Lone let it stand, now the friends are all departed, + The kind hearts, the true hearts, that loved the place of old. + + R. L. S. + + + + +TO JOHN ADDINGTON SYMONDS + + + The following is the draft of a proposed dedication to the South Sea + travel-book which was to be the fruit of the present voyages, as is + explained in a note at the end. + + _November 11th, 1888._ + +_One November night, in the village of Tautira, we sat at the high table +in the hall of assembly, hearing the natives sing. It was dark in the +hall, and very warm; though at times the land wind blew a little +shrewdly through the chinks, and at times, through the larger openings, +we could see the moonlight on the lawn. As the songs arose in the +rattling Tahitian chorus, the chief translated here and there a verse. +Farther on in the volume you shall read the songs themselves; and I am +in hopes that not you only, but all who can find a savour in the ancient +poetry of places, will read them with some pleasure. You are to conceive +us, therefore, in strange circumstances and very pleasing; in a strange +land and climate, the most beautiful on earth; surrounded by a foreign +race that all travellers have agreed to be the most engaging; and taking +a double interest in two foreign arts._ + +_We came forth again at last, in a cloudy moonlight, on the forest lawn +which is the street of Tautira. The Pacific roared outside upon the +reef. Here and there one of the scattered palm-built lodges shone out +under the shadow of the wood, the lamplight bursting through the +crannies of the wall. We went homeward slowly, Ori a Ori carrying behind +us the lantern and the chairs, properties with which we had just been +enacting our part of the distinguished visitor. It was one of those +moments in which minds not altogether churlish recall the names and +deplore the absence of congenial friends; and it was your name that +first rose upon our lips. "How Symonds would have enjoyed this evening!" +said one, and then another. The word caught in my mind; I went to bed, +and it was still there. The glittering, frosty solitudes in which your +days are cast arose before me: I seemed to see you walking there in the +late night, under the pine-trees and the stars; and I received the image +with something like remorse._ + +_There is a modern attitude towards Fortune; in this place I will not +use a graver name. Staunchly to withstand her buffets and to enjoy with +equanimity her favours was the code of the virtuous of old. Our fathers, +it should seem, wondered and doubted how they had merited their +misfortunes: we, rather how we have deserved our happiness. And we stand +often abashed, and sometimes revolted, at those partialities of fate by +which we profit most. It was so with me on that November night: I felt +that our positions should be changed. It was you, dear Symonds, who +should have gone upon that voyage and written this account. With your +rich stores of knowledge, you could have remarked and understood a +thousand things of interest and beauty that escaped my ignorance; and +the brilliant colours of your style would have carried into a thousand +sickrooms the sea air and the strong sun of tropic islands. It was +otherwise decreed. But suffer me at least to connect you, if only in +name and only in the fondness of imagination, with the voyage of the_ +Silver Ship. + + ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. + + +DEAR SYMONDS,--I send you this (November 11th), the morning of its +completion. If I ever write an account of this voyage, may I place this +letter at the beginning? It represents--I need not tell you, for you too +are an artist--a most genuine feeling, which kept me long awake last +night; and though perhaps a little elaborate, I think it a good piece of +writing. We are _in heaven here_. Do not forget. + + R. L. S. + + +Please keep this: I have no perfect copy. + +_Tautira, on the peninsula of Taiti._ + + + + +TO THOMAS ARCHER + + + _Tautira, Island of Taiti [November 1888]._ + +DEAR TOMARCHER,--This is a pretty state of things! seven o'clock and no +word of breakfast! And I was awake a good deal last night, for it was +full moon, and they had made a great fire of cocoa-nut husks down by the +sea, and as we have no blinds or shutters, this kept my room very +bright. And then the rats had a wedding or a school-feast under my bed. +And then I woke early, and I have nothing to read except Virgil's +_AEneid_, which is not good fun on an empty stomach, and a Latin +dictionary, which is good for naught, and by some humorous accident, +your dear papa's article on Skerryvore. And I read the whole of that, +and very impudent it is, but you must not tell your dear papa I said so, +or it might come to a battle in which you might lose either a dear papa +or a valued correspondent, or both, which would be prodigal. And still +no breakfast; so I said "Let's write to Tomarcher." + +This is a much better place for children than any I have hitherto seen +in these seas. The girls (and sometimes the boys) play a very elaborate +kind of hopscotch. The boys play horses exactly as we do in Europe; and +have very good fun on stilts, trying to knock each other down, in which +they do not often succeed. The children of all ages go to church and are +allowed to do what they please, running about the aisles, rolling balls, +stealing mamma's bonnet and publicly sitting on it, and at last going to +sleep in the middle of the floor. I forgot to say that the whips to play +horses, and the balls to roll about the church--at least I never saw +them used elsewhere--grow ready made on trees; which is rough on +toy-shops. The whips are so good that I wanted to play horses myself; +but no such luck! my hair is grey, and I am a great, big, ugly man. The +balls are rather hard, but very light and quite round. When you grow up +and become offensively rich, you can charter a ship in the port of +London, and have it come back to you entirely loaded with these balls; +when you could satisfy your mind as to their character, and give them +away when done with to your uncles and aunts. But what I really wanted +to tell you was this: besides the tree-top toys (Hush-a-by, toy-shop, on +the tree-top!), I have seen some real _made_ toys, the first hitherto +observed in the South Seas. + +This was how. You are to imagine a four-wheeled gig; one horse; in the +front seat two Tahiti natives, in their Sunday clothes, blue coat, white +shirt, kilt (a little longer than the Scotch) of a blue stuff with big +white or yellow flowers, legs and feet bare; in the back seat me and my +wife, who is a friend of yours; under our feet, plenty of lunch and +things: among us a great deal of fun in broken Tahitian, one of the +natives, the sub-chief of the village, being a great ally of mine. +Indeed we have exchanged names; so that he is now called Rui, the +nearest they can come to Louis, for they have no _l_ and no _s_ in their +language. Rui is six feet three in his stockings, and a magnificent man. +We all have straw hats, for the sun is strong. We drive between the sea, +which makes a great noise, and the mountains; the road is cut through a +forest mostly of fruit trees, the very creepers, which take the place of +our ivy, heavy with a great and delicious fruit, bigger than your head +and far nicer, called Barbedine. Presently we came to a house in a +pretty garden, quite by itself, very nicely kept, the doors and windows +open, no one about, and no noise but that of the sea. It looked like a +house in a fairy-tale, and just beyond we must ford a river, and there +we saw the inhabitants. Just in the mouth of the river, where it met the +sea waves, they were ducking and bathing and screaming together like a +covey of birds: seven or eight little naked brown boys and girls as +happy as the day was long; and on the banks of the stream beside them, +real toys--toy ships, full rigged, and with their sails set, though they +were lying in the dust on their beam ends. And then I knew for sure they +were all children in a fairy-story, living alone together in that lonely +house with the only toys in all the island; and that I had myself +driven, in my four-wheeled gig, into a corner of the fairy-story, and +the question was, should I get out again? But it was all right; I guess +only one of the wheels of the gig had got into the fairy-story; and the +next jolt the whole thing vanished, and we drove on in our sea-side +forest as before, and I have the honour to be Tomarcher's valued +correspondent, TERIITERA, which he was previously known as + + ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. + + + + +[MRS. R. L. STEVENSON TO SIDNEY COLVIN + + + This letter from Mrs. Stevenson serves to fill out and explain + allusions in the three or four preceding. The beautiful brown + princess is Princess Moe, ex-queen of Raiatea, well known to readers + of Pierre Loti and Miss Gordon Cumming. The move away from Papeete, + where Stevenson had fallen seriously ill, had been made in hopes of + finding on the island a climate that would suit him better. + + _Tautira, Tahiti, Dec. 4th [1888]._ + +DEAR, long neglected, though never forgotten Custodian, I write you from +fairyland, where we are living in a fairy story, the guests of a +beautiful brown princess. We came to stay a week, five weeks have +passed, and we are still indefinite as to our time of leaving. It was +chance brought us here, for no one in Papeete could tell us a word about +this part of the island except that it was very fine to look at, and +inhabited by wild people--"almost as wild as the people of Anaho!" That +touch about the people of Anaho inclined our hearts this way, so we +finally concluded to take a look at the other side of Tahiti. The place +of our landing was windy, uninhabited except by mosquitoes, and Louis +was ill. The first day Lloyd and the Captain made an exploration, but +came back disgusted. They had found a Chinaman, a long way off, who +seemed to have some horses, but no desire to hire them to strangers, and +they had found nothing else whatever. The next morning I took Valentine +and went on a prospecting tour of my own. I found the Chinaman, +persuaded him to let me have two horses and a wagon, and went back for +the rest of my family. When asked where I wished to go, I could only say +to the largest native village and the most wild. Ill as Louis was, I +brought him the next day, and shall never cease to be thankful for my +courage, for he has gained health and strength every day. He takes sea +baths and swims, and lives almost entirely in the open air as nearly +without clothes as possible, a simple pyjama suit of striped light +flannel his only dress. As to shoes and stockings we all have scorned +them for months except Mrs. Stevenson, who often goes barefoot and +never, I believe, wears stockings. Lloyd's costume, in which he looks +remarkably well, consists of a striped flannel shirt and a pareu. The +pareu is no more or less than a large figured blue and white cotton +window curtain twisted about the waist, and hanging a little below the +bare knees. Both Louis and Lloyd wear wreaths of artificial flowers, +made of the dried pandanus leaf, on their hats. + +Moe has gone to Papeete by the command of the king, whose letter was +addressed "To the great Princess at Tautira. P.V." P.V. stands for +Pomare 5th. Every evening, before she went, we played Van John lying in +a circle on pillows in the middle of the floor with our heads together: +and hardly an evening passed but it struck us afresh how very much you +would like Moe, and we told her of you again. The house (really here a +palace) in which we live, belongs to the sub-chief, Ori, a subject and +relation of the Princess. He, and his whole family, consisting of his +wife, his two little adopted sons, his daughter and her two young +babies, turned out to live in a little bird-cage hut of one room. Ori is +the very finest specimen of a native we have seen yet; he is several +inches over six feet, of perfect though almost gigantic proportions, and +looks more like a Roman Emperor in bronze than words can express. One +day, when Moe gave a feast, it being the correct thing to do, we all +wore wreaths of golden yellow leaves on our heads; when Ori walked in +and sat down at the table, as with one voice we all cried out in +admiration. His manners and I might say his habit of thought are +English. In some ways, he is so like a Colonel of the Guards that we +often call him Colonel. It was either the day before, or the morning of +our public feast, that Louis asked the Princess if she thought Ori would +accept his name. She was sure of it, and much pleased at the idea. I +wish you could have seen Louis, blushing like a schoolgirl, when Ori +came in, and the brotherhood was offered. So now if you please, Louis is +no more Louis, having given that name away in the Tahitian form of +_Rui_, but is known as _Terii-Tera_ (pronounced Ter_ee_terah) that being +Ori's Christian name. "Ori a Ori" is his clan name. + +Let me tell you of our village feast. The chief, who was our guide in +the matter, found four large fat hogs, which Louis bought, and four +cases of ship's biscuit were sent over from the _Casco_, which is lying +at Papeete for repairs. Our feast cost in all about eighty dollars. +Every Sunday all things of public interest are announced in the Farehau +(an enormous public bird cage) and the news of the week read aloud from +the Papeete journal, if it happens to turn up. Our feast was given on a +Wednesday, and was announced by the chief the Sunday before, who +referred to Louis as "the rich one." Our hogs were killed in the +morning, washed in the sea, and roasted whole in a pit with hot stones. +When done they were laid on their stomachs in neat open coffins of green +basket work, each hog with his case of biscuits beside him. Early in the +morning the entire population began bathing, a bath being the +preliminary to everything. At about three o'clock--four was the hour +set--there was a general movement towards our premises, so that I had to +hurry Louis into his clothes, all white, even to his shoes. Lloyd was +also in white, but barefoot. I was not prepared, so had to appear in a +red and white muslin gown, also barefoot. As Mrs. Stevenson had had a +feast of her own, conducted on religious principles, she kept a little +in the background, so that her dress did not matter so much. The chief, +who speaks French very well, stood beside Louis to interpret for him. +By the time we had taken our respective places on the veranda in front +of our door, an immense crowd had assembled. They came in five, instead +of four detachments which was what the chief expected, and he was a +little confused at first, as he and Louis had been arranging a speech to +four sets of people, which ran in this order. The clergyman at the head +of the Protestants: the chief, council, and irreligious:--one of the +council at their head. The schoolmaster with the schoolchildren: the +catechist and the Catholics: but there was another very small sect, by +some strange mischance called Mormons, which it was supposed would be +broken up and swallowed by the others. But no, the Mormons came in a +body alone, marshalled by the best and wittiest speaker--_bar Rui_--in +Tautira. Each set of people came bending under the weight of bamboo +poles laden with fruits, pigs, fowls, etc. All were dressed in their +gayest pareus, and many had wreaths of leaves or flowers on their heads. +The prettiest sight of all was the children, who came marching two and +two abreast, the bamboo poles lying lengthwise across their shoulders. + +When all the offerings had been piled in five great heaps upon the +ground, Louis made his oration to the accompaniment of the squealing of +pigs, the cackling of hens, and the roar of the surf which beats +man-high upon the roof. A speech was made in return on behalf of the +village, and then each section sent forth its orator, the speeches +following in the order I have given above. Each speaker finished by +coming forward with one of the smaller things in his hand, which he +offered personally to Louis, and then shook hands with us all and +retired. Among these smaller presents were many fish-hooks for large +fishing, laboriously carved from mother-of-pearl shell. One man came +with one egg in each hand saying, "carry these to Scotland with you, let +them hatch into cocks, and their song shall remind you of Tautira." The +schoolmaster, with a leaf-basket of rose apples, made his speech in +French. Somehow the whole effect of the scene was like a story out of +the Bible, and I am not ashamed that Louis and I both shed tears when we +saw the enchanting procession of schoolchildren. The Catholic priest, +Father Bruno, a great friend of ours, said that for the next fifty years +the time of the feast of the rich one will be talked of: which reminds +me of our friend Donat, of Fakarava, who was temporary resident at the +time we were there. "I am so glad," he said, "that the _Casco_ came in +just now, otherwise I should be forgotten: but now the people will +always say this or that happened so long before--or so long after--the +coming of the _Silver Ship_, when Donat represented the government." + +In front of our house is a broad stretch of grass, dotted with +cocoanuts, breadfruits, mangoes, and the strange pandanus tree. I wish +you could have seen them, their lower branches glowing with the rich +colours of the fruits hung upon them by Ori and his men, and great heaps +lying piled against their roots, on the evening of our feast. From the +bamboo poles that they were carried upon, a pen was made for the ten +pigs, and a fowl house for the twenty-three fowls that were among the +presents. But there was a day of reckoning at hand. Time after time we +ran down to the beach to look for the _Casco_, until we were in despair. +For over a month we had lived in Ori's house, causing him infinite +trouble and annoyance, and not even his, at that. Areia (the +chief--Areia means the Prince) went to Papeete and came back with a +letter to say that more work had to be done upon the _Casco_, and it +might be any time before she could get to Tautira. We had used up all +our stores, and had only a few dollars of money left in Tautira, and not +very much in Papeete. Could we stand the journey to Papeete, we could +not live upon the yacht in the midst of the workmen, and we had not +money enough left to live at an hotel. We were playing cards on the +floor, as usual, when this message came, and you can imagine its effect. +I knew perfectly well that Rui would force us to stay on with him, but +what depressed me the most of all, was the fact of Louis having made +brothers with him just before this took place. Had there been a shadow +of doubt on our dear Rui's face, I should have fled from before him. +Sitting there on the floor waiting for him was too much for my nerves +and I burst into tears, upon which the princess wept bitterly. In the +meantime the priest had dropped in, so that we had him and Moe, and +Areia, as witnesses to our humiliating position. First came Madame Rui, +who heard the story, and sat down on the floor in silence, which was +very damping for a beginning, and then Ori of Ori, the magnificent, who +listened to the tale of the shipwrecked mariners with serious dignity, +asking one or two questions, and then spoke to this effect. "You are my +brother: all that I have is yours. I know that your food is done, but I +can give you plenty of fish and taro. We like you, and wish to have you +here. Stay where you are till the _Casco_ comes. Be happy--_et ne +pleurez pas_." Louis dropped his head into his hands and wept, and then +we all went up to Rui and shook hands with him and accepted his offer. +Madame Rui, who had been silent only as a dutiful wife, that her husband +might speak first, poured forth manifold reasons for our staying on as +long as we could possibly manage. During all this scene, an attendant of +the princess had been sitting on the floor behind us, a baby in his +arms, where he had ensconced himself for the purpose of watching the +game. He understood nothing of what was going on; we wondered afterwards +what he thought of it. Reduced as we were, we still had a few bottles of +champagne left. Champagne being an especial weakness of our gigantic +friend, it occurred to some one that this was a proper occasion to open +a couple of bottles. Louis, the Princess, and I were quite, as the +Scotch so well say, "begrutten," Areia's immense eyes were fairly +melting out of his head with emotion, the priest was wiping his eyes and +blowing his nose: and then for no apparent cause we suddenly fell to +drinking and clinking glasses quite merrily: the bewildered attendant +clinked and drank too, and then sat down and waited in case there should +be any repetition of the drinking part of the performance. And sure +enough there was, for in the midst of an animated discussion as to ways +and means, Mrs. Stevenson announced that it was St. Andrew's day, so +again the attendant clinked and drank with Ori's mad foreigners. + +It is quite true that we live almost entirely upon native food; our +luncheon to-day consisted of raw fish with sauce made of cocoanut milk +mixed with sea water and lime juice, taro poi-poi, and bananas roasted +in hot stones in a little pit in the ground, with cocoanut cream to eat +with them. Still we like coffee in the evening, a little wine at dinner, +and a few other products of civilisation. It would be possible, the +chief said, to send a boat, but that would cost sixty dollars. A final +arrangement, which we were forced to accept, was that Rui should go in +his own boat, and the chief would appoint a substitute for some public +work that he was then engaged upon. Early the next morning, amidst a +raging sea and a storming wind, Rui departed with three men to help him. +It is forty miles to Papeete, and Rui, starting in the early morning, +arrived there at nine o'clock; but alas, the wind was against him, and +it was altogether six days before he got back. + +Louis has done a great deal of work on his new story, _The Master of +Ballantrae_, almost finished it in fact, while Mrs. Stevenson and I are +deep in the mysteries of hatmaking, which is a ladies' accomplishment +taking the place of water-colour drawing in England. It is a small +compliment to present a hat to an acquaintance. Altogether we have about +thirteen. Next door to us is Areia's out-of-door house, where he and the +ladies of his family sleep and eat: it has a thatched roof of palm +branches, and a floor of boards, the sides and ends being open to the +world. On the floor are spread mats plaited of pandanus leaves, and +pillows stuffed with silk cotton from the cotton tree. We make little +calls upon the ladies, lie upon the mats, and smoke cigarettes made of +tobacco leaves rolled in a bit of dried pandanus, and admire their work, +or get a lesson; or they call upon us, and lie upon our mats. One day +there was an election in the Farehau. It takes place all over the island +once a year, and among others, the sub-chief and head-councillor is +chosen. For the latter, our Rui was a candidate. In the beginning, the +French deposed the born chiefs and told the people to elect men for +themselves. The choice of Tautira fell upon Rui, who declined the +honour, saying that Areia was his natural chief, and he could not take a +position that should belong to his superior; upon which the people +elected Areia chief, and Rui sub-chief and head-councillor. We all went +over to the Farehau, where Areia sat in the middle of his councillors on +a dais behind a long table. The Farehau is an immense bird-cage of +bamboos tied together with pandanus fibre, and thatched with palms. In +front of the dais the ground is deeply covered with dried leaves. The +costume of the dignitaries was rather odd. Areia wore a white shirt and +blue flannel coat, which was well enough; but on his plump legs were a +pair of the most incredible trousers: light blue calico with a small red +pattern, such as servant girls wear for gowns in England: on his feet +were neat little shoes and stockings. Rui was a fine sight, and we were +very proud of him; he sat, exactly like an English gentleman, holding +himself well in hand, alert as a fox and keen as a greyhound: several +men spoke from the farther end of the hall, making objections of some +sort, we could see. Rui listened with a half satirical, half kindly +smile in his eyes, and then dropped a quiet answer without rising from +his seat, which had the effect of raising a shout of laughter, and quite +demolishing his opponent. Voters came up to the table and dropped their +bits of paper into a slit in a box: some led children by the hand, and +some carried babies in their arms; across the centre of the great room +children and dogs ran chasing each other and playing. I noticed two +little maids who walked up and down for a long time with their arms +intertwined about each other's waists. Near where we sat (we were on the +dais, above the common herd), a pretty young lady having tied up her +dog's mouth with a tuft of grass, industriously caught and cracked fleas +from its back. Both Lloyd and I grew very sleepy, and as we did not like +to leave till the election was decided, we just threw ourselves down and +took a nap at the feet of the councillors: nor did we wake till the +chief called out to us in English "it is finished." I never thought I +should be able to calmly sleep at a public meeting on a platform in the +face of several hundred people: but it is wonderful how quickly one +takes up the ways of a people when you live with them as intimately as +we do. + +I hear dinner coming on the table, so with much love from us all to you +and other dear ones, including our dear friend Henry James, believe me, +affectionately yours, + + FANNY V. de G. STEVENSON.] + + + + +TO SIDNEY COLVIN + + + _Yacht Casco, at Sea, 14th January 1889._ + +MY DEAR COLVIN,--Twenty days out from Papeete. Yes, sir, all that, and +only (for a guess) in 4 deg. north or at the best 4 deg.30', though already the +wind seems to smell a little of the North Pole. My handwriting you must +take as you get, for we are speeding along through a nasty swell, and I +can only keep my place at the table by means of a foot against the +divan, the unoccupied hand meanwhile gripping the ink-bottle. As we +begin (so very slowly) to draw near to seven months of correspondence, +we are all in some fear; and I want to have letters written before I +shall be plunged into that boiling pot of disagreeables which I +constantly expect at Honolulu. What is needful can be added there. + +We were kept two months at Tautira in the house of my dear old friend, +Ori a Ori, till both the masts of this invaluable yacht had been +repaired. It was all for the best: Tautira being the most beautiful +spot, and its people the most amiable, I have ever found. Besides which, +the climate suited me to the ground; I actually went sea-bathing almost +every day, and in our feasts (we are all huge eaters in Taiarapu) have +been known to apply four times for pig. And then again I got wonderful +materials for my book, collected songs and legends on the spot; songs +still sung in chorus by perhaps a hundred persons, not two of whom can +agree on their translation; legends, on which I have seen half a dozen +seniors sitting in conclave and debating what came next. Once I went a +day's journey to the other side of the island to Tati, the high chief of +the Tevas--_my_ chief that is, for I am now a Teva and Teriitera, at +your service--to collect more and correct what I had already. In the +meanwhile I got on with my work, almost finished _The Master of +Ballantrae_, which contains more human work than anything of mine but +_Kidnapped_, and wrote the half of another ballad, the _Song of Rahero_, +on a Taiarapu legend of my own clan, sir--not so much fire as the _Feast +of Famine_, but promising to be more even and correct. But the best +fortune of our stay at Tautira was my knowledge of Ori himself, one of +the finest creatures extant. The day of our parting was a sad one. We +deduced from it a rule for travellers: not to stay two months in one +place--which is to cultivate regrets. + +At last our contemptible ship was ready; to sea we went, bound for +Honolulu and the letter-bag, on Christmas Day; and from then to now have +experienced every sort of minor misfortune, squalls, calms, contrary +winds and seas, pertinacious rains, declining stores, till we came +almost to regard ourselves as in the case of Vanderdecken. Three days +ago our luck seemed to improve, we struck a leading breeze, got +creditably through the doldrums, and just as we looked to have the N.E. +trades and a straight run, the rains and squalls and calms began again +about midnight, and this morning, though there is breeze enough to send +us along, we are beaten back by an obnoxious swell out of the north. +Here is a page of complaint, when a verse of thanksgiving had perhaps +been more in place. For all this time we must have been skirting past +dangerous weather, in the tail and circumference of hurricanes, and +getting only annoyance where we should have had peril, and ill-humour +instead of fear. + +I wonder if I have managed to give you any news this time, or whether +the usual damn hangs over my letter? "The midwife whispered, Be thou +dull!" or at least inexplicit. Anyway I have tried my best, am exhausted +with the effort, and fall back into the land of generalities. I cannot +tell you how often we have planned our arrival at the Monument: two +nights ago, the 12th January, we had it all planned out, arrived in the +lights and whirl of Waterloo, hailed a hansom, span up Waterloo Road, +over the bridge, etc. etc., and hailed the Monument gate in triumph and +with indescribable delight. My dear Custodian, I always think we are too +sparing of assurances: Cordelia is only to be excused by Regan and +Goneril in the same nursery; I wish to tell you that the longer I live, +the more dear do you become to me; nor does my heart own any stronger +sentiment. If the bloody schooner didn't send me flying in every sort of +direction at the same time, I would say better what I feel so much; but +really, if you were here, you would not be writing letters, I believe; +and even I, though of a more marine constitution, am much perturbed by +this bobbery and wish--O ye Gods, how I wish!--that it was done, and we +had arrived, and I had Pandora's Box (my mail-bag) in hand, and was in +the lively hope of something eatable for dinner instead of salt horse, +tinned mutton, duff without any plums, and pie fruit, which now make up +our whole repertory. O Pandora's Box! I wonder what you will contain. As +like as not you will contain but little money: if that be so, we shall +have to retire to 'Frisco in the _Casco_, and thence by sea _via_ Panama +to Southampton, where we should arrive in April. I would like fine to +see you on the tug: ten years older both of us than the last time you +came to welcome Fanny and me to England. If we have money, however, we +shall do a little differently: send the _Casco_ away from Honolulu empty +of its high-born lessees, for that voyage to 'Frisco is one long dead +beat in foul and at last in cold weather; stay awhile behind, follow by +steamer, cross the States by train, stay awhile in New York on business, +and arrive probably by the German Line in Southampton. But all this is a +question of money. We shall have to lie very dark awhile to recruit our +finances: what comes from the book of the cruise, I do not want to touch +until the capital is repaid. + + R. L. S. + + + + +TO E. L. BURLINGAME + + + _Honolulu, January 1889._ + +MY DEAR BURLINGAME,--Here at last I have arrived. We could not get away +from Tahiti till Christmas Day, and then had thirty days of calms and +squalls, a deplorable passage. This has thrown me all out of gear in +every way. I plunge into business. + +1. _The Master._ Herewith go three more parts. You see he grows in bulk; +this making ten already, and I am not yet sure if I can finish it in an +eleventh; which shall go to you _quam primum_--I hope by next mail. + +2. _Illustrations to M._ I totally forgot to try to write to Hole. It +was just as well, for I find it impossible to forecast with sufficient +precision. You had better throw off all this and let him have it at +once. _Please do: all, and at once: see further_; and I should hope he +would still be in time for the later numbers. The three pictures I have +received are so truly good that I should bitterly regret having the +volume imperfectly equipped. They are the best illustrations I have seen +since I don't know when. + +3. _Money._ To-morrow the mail comes in, and I hope it will bring me +money either from you or home, but I will add a word on that point. + +4. My address will be Honolulu--no longer Yacht _Casco_, which I am +packing off--till probably April. + +5. As soon as I am through with _The Master_, I shall finish _The Game +of Bluff_--now rechristened _The Wrong Box_. This I wish to sell, cash +down. It is of course copyright in the States; and I offer it to you for +five thousand dollars. Please reply on this by return. Also please tell +the typewriter who was so good as to be amused by our follies that I am +filled with admiration for his piece of work. + +6. _Master_ again. Please see that I haven't the name of the Governor of +New York wrong (1764 is the date) in part ten. I have no book of +reference to put me right. Observe you now have up to August inclusive +in hand, so you should begin to feel happy. + +Is this all? I wonder, and fear not. Henry the Trader has not yet turned +up: I hope he may to-morrow, when we expect a mail. Not one word of +business have I received either from the States or England, nor anything +in the shape of coin; which leaves me in a fine uncertainty and quite +penniless on these islands. H.M.[27] (who is a gentleman of a courtly +order and much tinctured with letters) is very polite; I may possibly +ask for the position of palace doorkeeper. My voyage has been a singular +mixture of good and ill fortune. As far as regards interest and +material, the fortune has been admirable; as far as regards time, money, +and impediments of all kinds, from squalls and calms to rotten masts and +sprung spars, simply detestable. I hope you will be interested to hear +of two volumes on the wing. The cruise itself, you are to know, will +make a big volume with appendices; some of it will first appear as +(what they call) letters in some of M'Clure's papers. I believe the book +when ready will have a fair measure of serious interest: I have had +great fortune in finding old songs and ballads and stories, for +instance, and have many singular instances of life in the last few years +among these islands. + +The second volume is of ballads. You know _Ticonderoga_. I have written +another: _The Feast of Famine_, a Marquesan story. A third is half done: +_The Song of Rahero_, a genuine Tahitian legend. A fourth dances before, +me. A Hawaiian fellow this, _The Priest's Drought_, or some such name. +If, as I half suspect, I get enough subjects out of the islands, +_Ticonderoga_ shall be suppressed, and we'll call the volume _South Sea +Ballads_. In health, spirits, renewed interest in life, and, I do +believe, refreshed capacity for work, the cruise has proved a wise +folly. Still we're not home, and (although the friend of a crowned head) +are penniless upon these (as one of my correspondents used to call them) +"lovely but _fatil_ islands." By the way, who wrote the _Lion of the +Nile_? My dear sir, that is Something Like. Overdone in bits, it has a +true thought and a true ring of language. Beg the anonymous from me, to +delete (when he shall republish) the two last verses, and end on "the +lion of the Nile." One Lampman has a good sonnet on a "Winter Evening" +in, I think, the same number: he seems ill named, but I am tempted to +hope a man is not always answerable for his name.[28] For instance, you +would think you knew mine. No such matter. It is--at your service and +Mr. Scribner's and that of all of the faithful--Teriitera (pray +pronounce Tayree-Tayra) or (_gallice_) Teri-tera. + + R. L. S. + +More when the mail shall come. + + +I am an idiot. I want to be clear on one point. Some of Hole's drawings +must of course be too late; and yet they seem to me so excellent I would +fain have the lot complete. It is one thing for you to pay for drawings +which are to appear in that soul-swallowing machine, your magazine: +quite another if they are only to illustrate a volume. I wish you to +take a brisk (even a fiery) decision on the point; and let Hole know. To +resume my desultory song, I desire you would carry the same fire +(hereinbefore suggested) into your decision on _The Wrong Box_; for in +my present state of benighted ignorance as to my affairs for the last +seven months--I know not even whether my house or my mother's house have +been let--I desire to see something definite in front of me--outside the +lot of palace doorkeeper. I believe the said _Wrong Box_ is a real lark; +in which, of course, I may be grievously deceived; but the typewriter is +with me. I may also be deceived as to the numbers of _The Master_ now +going and already gone; but to me they seem First Chop, sir, First Chop. +I hope I shall pull off that damned ending; but it still depresses me: +this is your doing, Mr. Burlingame: you would have it there and then, +and I fear it--I fear that ending. + + R. L. S. + + + + +TO CHARLES BAXTER + + + _Honolulu, February 8th, 1889._ + +MY DEAR CHARLES,--Here we are at Honolulu, and have dismissed the yacht, +and lie here till April anyway, in a fine state of haze, which I am yet +in hopes some letter of yours (still on the way) may dissipate. No +money, and not one word as to money! However, I have got the yacht paid +off in triumph, I think; and though we stay here impignorate, it should +not be for long, even if you bring us no extra help from home. The +cruise has been a great success, both as to matter, fun, and health; and +yet, Lord, man! we're pleased to be ashore! Yon was a very fine voyage +from Tahiti up here, but--the dry land's a fine place too, and we don't +mind squalls any longer, and eh, man, that's a great thing. Blow, blow, +thou wintry wind, thou hast done me no appreciable harm beyond a few +grey hairs! Altogether, this foolhardy venture is achieved; and if I +have but nine months of life and any kind of health, I shall have both +eaten my cake and got it back again with usury. But, man, there have +been days when I felt guilty, and thought I was in no position for the +head of a house. + +Your letter and accounts are doubtless at S. F., and will reach me in +course. My wife is no great shakes; she is the one who has suffered +most. My mother has had a Huge Old Time; Lloyd is first chop; I so well +that I do not know myself--sea-bathing, if you please, and what is far +more dangerous, entertaining and being entertained by His Majesty here, +who is a very fine intelligent fellow, but O, Charles! what a crop for +the drink! He carries it, too, like a mountain with a sparrow on its +shoulders. We calculated five bottles of champagne in three hours and a +half (afternoon), and the sovereign quite presentable, although +perceptibly more dignified at the end.... + +The extraordinary health I enjoy and variety of interests I find among +these islands would tempt me to remain here; only for Lloyd, who is not +well placed in such countries for a permanency; and a little for Colvin, +to whom I feel I owe a sort of filial duty. And these two considerations +will no doubt bring me back--to go to bed again--in England.--Yours ever +affectionately, + + R. L. S. + + + + +TO R. A. M. STEVENSON + + + _Honolulu, Hawaiian Islands, February 1889._ + +MY DEAR BOB,--My extremely foolhardy venture is practically over. How +foolhardy it was I don't think I realised. We had a very small schooner, +and, like most yachts, over-rigged and over-sparred, and like many +American yachts on a very dangerous sail plan. The waters we sailed in +are, of course, entirely unlighted, and very badly charted; in the +Dangerous Archipelago, through which we were fools enough to go, we were +perfectly in ignorance of where we were for a whole night and half the +next day, and this in the midst of invisible islands and rapid and +variable currents; and we were lucky when we found our whereabouts at +last. We have twice had all we wanted in the way of squalls: once, as I +came on deck, I found the green sea over the cockpit coamings and +running down the companion like a brook to meet me; at that same moment +the foresail sheet jammed and the captain had no knife; this was the +only occasion on the cruise that ever I set a hand to a rope, but I +worked like a Trojan, judging the possibility of hemorrhage better than +the certainty of drowning. Another time I saw a rather singular thing: +our whole ship's company as pale as paper from the captain to the cook; +we had a black squall astern on the port side and a white squall ahead +to starboard; the complication passed off innocuous, the black squall +only fetching us with its tail, and the white one slewing off somewhere +else. Twice we were a long while (days) in the close vicinity of +hurricane weather, but again luck prevailed, and we saw none of it. +These are dangers incident to these seas and small craft. What was an +amazement, and at the same time a powerful stroke of luck, both our +masts were rotten, and we found it out--I was going to say in time, but +it was stranger and luckier than that. The head of the mainmast hung +over so that hands were afraid to go to the helm; and less than three +weeks before--I am not sure it was more than a fortnight--we had been +nearly twelve hours beating off the lee shore of Eimeo (or Moorea, next +island to Tahiti) in half a gale of wind with a violent head sea: she +would neither tack nor wear once, and had to be boxed off with the +mainsail--you can imagine what an ungodly show of kites we carried--and +yet the mast stood. The very day after that, in the southern bight of +Tahiti, we had a near squeak, the wind suddenly coming calm; the reefs +were close in with, my eye! what a surf! The pilot thought we were gone, +and the captain had a boat cleared, when a lucky squall came to our +rescue. My wife, hearing the order given about the boats, remarked to my +mother, "Isn't that nice? We shall soon be ashore!" Thus does the female +mind unconsciously skirt along the verge of eternity. Our voyage up here +was most disastrous--calms, squalls, head sea, waterspouts of rain, +hurricane weather all about, and we in the midst of the hurricane +season, when even the hopeful builder and owner of the yacht had +pronounced these seas unfit for her. We ran out of food, and were quite +given up for lost in Honolulu: people had ceased to speak to Belle[29] +about the _Casco_, as a deadly subject. + +But the perils of the deep were part of the programme; and though I am +very glad to be done with them for a while and comfortably ashore, where +a squall does not matter a snuff to any one, I feel pretty sure I shall +want to get to sea again ere long. The dreadful risk I took was +financial, and double-headed. First, I had to sink a lot of money in the +cruise, and if I didn't get health, how was I to get it back? I have got +health to a wonderful extent; and as I have the most interesting matter +for my book, bar accidents, I ought to get all I have laid out and a +profit. But, second (what I own I never considered till too late), there +was the danger of collisions, of damages and heavy repairs, of +disablement, towing, and salvage; indeed, the cruise might have turned +round and cost me double. Nor will this danger be quite over till I hear +the yacht is in San Francisco; for though I have shaken the dust of her +deck from my feet, I fear (as a point of law) she is still mine till she +gets there. + +From my point of view, up to now the cruise has been a wonderful +success. I never knew the world was so amusing. On the last voyage we +had grown so used to sea-life that no one wearied, though it lasted a +full month, except Fanny, who is always ill. All the time our visits to +the islands have been more like dreams than realities: the people, the +life, the beachcombers, the old stories and songs I have picked up, so +interesting; the climate, the scenery, and (in some places) the women, +so beautiful. The women are handsomest in Tahiti, the men in the +Marquesas; both as fine types as can be imagined. Lloyd reminds me, I +have not told you one characteristic incident of the cruise from a +semi-naval point of view. One night we were going ashore in Anaho Bay; +the most awful noise on deck; the breakers distinctly audible in the +cabin; and there I had to sit below, entertaining in my best style a +negroid native chieftain, much the worse for rum! You can imagine the +evening's pleasure. + +This naval report on cruising in the South Seas would be incomplete +without one other trait. On our voyage up here I came one day into the +dining-room, the hatch in the floor was open, the ship's boy was below +with a baler, and two of the hands were carrying buckets as for a fire; +this meant that the pumps had ceased working. + +One stirring day was that in which we sighted Hawaii. It blew fair, but +very strong; we carried jib, foresail, and mainsail, all single-reefed, +and she carried her lee rail under water and flew. The swell, the +heaviest I have ever been out in--I tried in vain to estimate the +height, _at least_ fifteen feet--came tearing after us about a point and +a half off the wind. We had the best hand--old Louis--at the wheel; and, +really, he did nobly, and had noble luck, for it never caught us once. +At times it seemed we must have it; old Louis would look over his +shoulder with the queerest look and dive down his neck into his +shoulders; and then it missed us somehow, and only sprays came over our +quarter, turning the little outside lane of deck into a mill race as +deep as to the cockpit coamings. I never remember anything more +delightful and exciting. Pretty soon after we were lying absolutely +becalmed under the lee of Hawaii, of which we had been warned; and the +captain never confessed he had done it on purpose, but when accused, he +smiled. Really, I suppose he did quite right, for we stood committed to +a dangerous race, and to bring her to the wind would have been rather a +heart-sickening manoeuvre. + + R. L. S. + + + + +TO MARCEL SCHWOB + + + At Honolulu, Stevenson found awaiting him, among the accumulations of + the mail-bag, two letters of friendly homage--the first, I think, he + had received from any foreign _confrere_--addressed to him by the + distinguished young French scholar and man of letters, M. Marcel + Schwob, since deceased. + + _Honolulu, Sandwich Islands, February 8th, 1889._ + +DEAR SIR,--I thank you--from the midst of such a flurry as you can +imagine, with seven months' accumulated correspondence on my table--for +your two friendly and clever letters. Pray write me again. I shall be +home in May or June, and not improbably shall come to Paris in the +summer. Then we can talk; or in the interval I may be able to write, +which is to-day out of the question. Pray take a word from a man of +crushing occupations, and count it as a volume. Your little _conte_ is +delightful. Ah yes, you are right, I love the eighteenth century; and so +do you, and have not listened to its voice in vain.--The Hunted One, + + ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. + + + + +TO CHARLES BAXTER + + + _Honolulu, 8th March 1889._ + +MY DEAR CHARLES,--At last I have the accounts: the Doer has done +excellently, and in the words of ----, "I reciprocate every step of your +behaviour."... I send a letter for Bob in your care, as I don't know +his Liverpool address,[30] by which (for he is to show you part of it) +you will see we have got out of this adventure--or hope to have--with +wonderful fortune. I have the retrospective horrors on me when I think +of the liabilities I incurred; but, thank God, I think I'm in port +again, and I have found one climate in which I can enjoy life. Even +Honolulu is too cold for me; but the south isles were a heaven upon +earth to a puir, catarrhal party like Johns'one. We think, as Tahiti is +too complete a banishment, to try Madeira. It's only a week from +England, good communications, and I suspect in climate and scenery not +unlike our dear islands; in people, alas! there can be no comparison. +But friends could go, and I could come in summer, so I should not be +quite cut off. + +Lloyd and I have finished a story, _The Wrong Box_. If it is not funny, +I am sure I do not know what is. I have split over writing it. Since I +have been here, I have been toiling like a galley slave: three numbers +of _The Master_ to rewrite, five chapters of _The Wrong Box_ to write +and rewrite, and about five hundred lines of a narrative poem to write, +rewrite, and re-rewrite. Now I have _The Master_ waiting me for its +continuation, two numbers more; when that's done, I shall breathe. This +spasm of activity has been chequered with champagne parties: Happy and +Glorious, Hawaii Ponoi paua: kou moi--(Native Hawaiians, dote upon your +monarch!) Hawaiian God save the King. (In addition to my other labours, +I am learning the language with a native moonshee.) Kalakaua is a +terrible companion; a bottle of fizz is like a glass of sherry to him; +he thinks nothing of five or six in an afternoon as a whet for dinner. +You should see a photograph of our party after an afternoon with H. H. +M.: my! what a crew!--Yours ever affectionately, + + ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. + + + + +TO SIDNEY COLVIN + + + Ill-health and pressing preoccupations, together with uncertainty as + to when and where letters would reach him, had kept me from writing + during the previous autumn and winter. + + _Honolulu, March 1889._ + +MY DEAR COLVIN,--Still not a word from you! I am utterly cast down; but +I will try to return good for evil and for once give you news. We are +here in the suburb of Honolulu in a rambling house or set of houses in a +great garden. + +[Illustration: _a a a_, stairs up to balcony.] + +1. Lloyd's room. 2. My mother's room. 3. A room kept dark for +photographs. 4. The kitchen. 5. Balcony. 6. The Lanai, an open room or +summer parlour, partly surrounded with Venetian shutters, in part quite +open, which is the living-room. 7. A crazy dirty cottage used for the +arts. 8. Another crazy dirty cottage, where Fanny and I live. The town +is some three miles away, but the house is connected by telephone with +the chief shops, and the tramway runs to within a quarter of a mile of +us. I find Honolulu a beastly climate after Tahiti and have been in bed +a little; but my colds _took on no catarrhal symptom_, which is +staggeringly delightful. I am studying Hawaiian with a native, a Mr. +Joseph Poepoe, a clever fellow too: the tongue is a little bewildering; +I am reading a pretty story in native--no, really it is pretty, although +wandering and wordy; highly pretty with its continual traffic from one +isle to another of the soothsayer, pursuing rainbows. Fanny is, I think, +a good deal better on the whole, having profited like me by the tropics; +my mother and Lloyd are first-rate. I do not think I have heard from you +since last May; certainly not since June; and this really frightens me. +Do write, even now. Scribner's Sons it should be; we shall probably be +out of this some time in April, home some time in June. But the world +whirls to me perceptibly, a mass of times and seasons and places and +engagements, and seas to cross, and continents to traverse, so that I +scarce know where I am. Well, I have had a brave time. _Et ego in +Arcadia_--though I don't believe Arcadia was a spot upon Tahiti. I have +written another long narrative poem: the _Song of Rahero_. Privately, I +think it good: but your ominous silence over the _Feast of Famine_ leads +me to fear we shall not be agreed. Is it possible I have wounded you in +some way? I scarce like to dream that it is possible; and yet I know too +well it may be so. If so, don't write, and you can pitch into me when we +meet. I am, admittedly, as mild as London Stout now; and the Old Man +Virulent much a creature of the past. My dear Colvin, I owe you and +Fleeming Jenkin, the two older men who took the trouble and knew how to +make a friend of me, everything that I have or am: if I have behaved +ill, just hold on and give me a chance, you shall have the slanging of +me and I bet I shall prefer it to this silence.--Ever, my dear Colvin, +your most affectionate + + R. L. S. + + + + +[MRS. R. L. STEVENSON to MRS. SITWELL + + + This letter brought to friends in England the first news of the + intended prolongation of the cruise among the remoter islands of the + Pacific. + + _Honolulu, towards the end of March 1889._ + +MY DEAR FRIEND,--Louis has improved so wonderfully in the delicious +islands of the South Seas, that we think of trying yet one more voyage. +We are a little uncertain as to how we shall go, whether in a missionary +ship, or by hiring schooners from point to point, but the "unregenerate" +islands we must see. I suppose we shall be off some time in June, which +will fetch us back to England in another year's time. You could hardly +believe it if you could see Louis now. He looks as well as he ever did +in his life, and has had no sign of cough or hemorrhage (begging pardon +of Nemesis) for many months. It seems a pity to return to England until +his health is firmly reestablished, and also a pity not to see all that +we can see quite easily starting from this place: and which will be our +only opportunity in life. Of course there is the usual risk from hostile +natives, and the horrible sea, but a positive risk is so much more +wholesome than a negative one, and it is all such joy to Louis and +Lloyd. As for me, I hate the sea, and am afraid of it (though no one +will believe that because in time of danger I do not make an +outcry--nevertheless I _am_ afraid of it, and it is not kind to me), but +I love the tropic weather, and the wild people, and to see my two boys +so happy. Mrs. Stevenson is going back to Scotland in May, as she does +not like to be longer away from her old sister, who has been very ill. +And besides, we do not feel justified in taking her to the sort of +places we intend to visit. As for me, I can get comfort out of very +rough surroundings for my people, I can work hard and enjoy it; I can +even shoot pretty well, and though I "don't want to fight, by jingo if I +must," why I can. I don't suppose there will be any occasion for that +sort of thing--only in case. + +I am not quite sure of the names, but I _think_ our new cruise includes +the Gilberts, the Fijis, and the Solomons. A letter might go from the +Fijis; Louis will write the particulars, of which I am not sure. As for +myself, I have had more cares than I was really fit for. To keep house +on a yacht is no easy thing. When Louis and I broke loose from the ship +and lived alone amongst the natives I got on very well. It was when I +was deathly sea-sick, and the question was put to me by the cook, "What +shall we have for the cabin dinner, what for to-morrow's breakfast, what +for lunch? and what about the sailors' food? Please come and look at the +biscuits, for the weevils have got into them, and show me how to make +yeast that will rise of itself, and smell the pork which seems pretty +high, and give me directions about making a pudding with molasses--and +what is to be done about the bugs?"--etc. etc. In the midst of heavy +dangerous weather, when I was lying on the floor clutching a basin, down +comes the mate with a cracked head, and I must needs cut off the hair +matted with blood, wash and dress the wound, and administer +restoratives. I do not like being "the lady of the yacht," but ashore! +O, then I felt I was repaid for all. I wonder did any of my letters from +beautiful Tautira ever come to hand, with the descriptions of our life +with Louis's adopted brother Ori a Ori? Ori wrote to us, if no one else +did, and I mean to give you a translation of his letter. It begins with +our native names. + + + _Tautira, 26 Dec. 1888._ + +To Teriitera (Louis) and Tapina Tutu (myself) and Aromaiterai (Lloyd) +and Teiriha (Mrs. Stevenson) Salutation in the true Jesus. + +I make you to know my great affection. At the hour when you left us, I +was filled with tears; my wife, Rui Tehini, also, and all of my +household. When you embarked I felt a great sorrow. It is for this that +I went upon the road, and you looked from that ship, and I looked at you +on the ship with great grief until you had raised the anchor and hoisted +the sails. When the ship started, I ran along the beach to see you +still; and when you were on the open sea I cried out to you, "farewell +Louis": and when I was coming back to my house I seemed to hear your +voice crying "Rui farewell." Afterwards I watched the ship as long as I +could until the night fell; and when it was dark I said to myself, "if I +had wings I should fly to the ship to meet you, and to sleep amongst +you, so that I might be able to come back to shore and to tell Rui +Tehini, 'I have slept upon the ship of Teriitera.'" After that we passed +that night in the impatience of grief. Towards eight o'clock I seemed to +hear your voice, "Teriitera--Rui--here is the hour for putter and tiro" +(cheese and syrup). I did not sleep that night, thinking continually of +you, my very dear friend, until the morning: being then awake I went to +see Tapina Tutu on her bed, and alas, she was not there. Afterwards I +looked into your rooms; they did not please me as they used to do. I did +not hear your voice crying, "hail Rui." I thought then that you had +gone, and that you had left me. Rising up I went to the beach to see +your ship, and I could not see it. I wept, then, till the night, telling +myself continually, "Teriitera returns into his own country and leaves +his dear Rui in grief, so that I suffer for him, and weep for him." I +will not forget you in my memory. Here is the thought: I desire to meet +you again. It is my dear Teriitera makes the only riches I desire in +this world. It is your eyes that I desire to see again. It must be that +your body and my body shall eat together at our table: there is what +would make my heart content. But now we are separated. May God be with +you all. May His word and His mercy go with you, so that you may be well +and we also, according to the words of Paul. + + ORI A ORI; that is to say, RUI. + + +After reading this to me Louis has left in tears saying that he is not +worthy that such a letter should be written to him. We hope to so manage +that we shall stop at Tahiti and see Rui once more. I tell myself that +pleasant story when I wake in the night. + +I find my head swimming so that I cannot write any more. I wish some +rich Catholic would send a parlour organ to Pere Bruno of Tautira. I am +going to try and save money to do it myself, but he may die before I +have enough. I feel ashamed to be sitting here when I think of that old +man who cannot draw because of scrivener's paralysis, who has no one +year in and year out to speak to but natives (our Rui is a Protestant +not bigoted like the rest of them--but still a Protestant) and the only +pastime he has is playing on an old broken parlour organ whose keys are +mostly dumb. I know no more pathetic figure. Have you no rich Catholic +friends who would send him an organ that he could play upon? Of course I +am talking nonsense, and yet I know somewhere that person exists if only +I knew the place. + +Our dearest love to you all. + + FANNY.] + + + + +TO HENRY JAMES + + + _Honolulu [March 1889]._ + +MY DEAR JAMES,--Yes--I own up--I am untrue to friendship and (what is +less, but still considerable) to civilisation. I am not coming home for +another year. There it is, cold and bald, and now you won't believe in +me at all, and serve me right (says you) and the devil take me. But look +here, and judge me tenderly. I have had more fun and pleasure of my life +these past months than ever before, and more health than any time in ten +long years. And even here in Honolulu I have withered in the cold; and +this precious deep is filled with islands, which we may still visit; and +though the sea is a deathful place, I like to be there, and like +squalls (when they are over); and to draw near to a new island, I cannot +say how much I like. In short, I take another year of this sort of life, +and mean to try to work down among the poisoned arrows, and mean (if it +may be) to come back again when the thing is through, and converse with +Henry James as heretofore; and in the meanwhile issue directions to H. +J. to write to me once more. Let him address here at Honolulu, for my +views are vague; and if it is sent here it will follow and find me, if I +am to be found; and if I am not to be found, the man James will have +done his duty, and we shall be at the bottom of the sea, where no +post-office clerk can be expected to discover us, or languishing on a +coral island, the philosophic drudges of some barbarian potentate: +perchance, of an American Missionary. My wife has just sent to Mrs. +Sitwell a translation (_tant bien que mal_) of a letter I have had from +my chief friend in this part of the world: go and see her, and get a +hearing of it; it will do you good; it is a better method of +correspondence than even Henry James's. I jest, but seriously it is a +strange thing for a tough, sick, middle-aged scrivener like R. L. S. to +receive a letter so conceived from a man fifty years old, a leading +politician, a crack orator, and the great wit of his village: boldly +say, "the highly popular M.P. of Tautira." My nineteenth century strikes +here, and lies alongside of something beautiful and ancient. I think the +receipt of such a letter might humble, shall I say even ----? and for +me, I would rather have received it than written _Redgauntlet_ or the +sixth _AEneid_. All told, if my books have enabled or helped me to make +this voyage, to know Rui, and to have received such a letter, they have +(in the old prefatorial expression) not been writ in vain. It would seem +from this that I have been not so much humbled as puffed up; but, I +assure you, I have in fact been both. A little of what that letter says +is my own earning; not all, but yet a little; and the little makes me +proud, and all the rest ashamed; and in the contrast, how much more +beautiful altogether is the ancient man than him of to-day! + +Well, well, Henry James is pretty good, though he _is_ of the nineteenth +century, and that glaringly. And to curry favour with him, I wish I +could be more explicit; but, indeed, I am still of necessity extremely +vague, and cannot tell what I am to do, nor where I am to go for some +while yet. As soon as I am sure, you shall hear. All are fairly +well--the wife, your countrywoman, least of all; troubles are not +entirely wanting; but on the whole we prosper, and we are all +affectionately yours, + + ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. + + + + +TO SIDNEY COLVIN + + + _Honolulu, April 2nd, 1889._ + +MY DEAR COLVIN,--I am beginning to be ashamed of writing on to you +without the least acknowledgment, like a tramp; but I do not care--I am +hardened; and whatever be the cause of your silence, I mean to write +till all is blue. I am outright ashamed of my news, which is that we are +not coming home for another year. I cannot but hope it may continue the +vast improvement of my health: I think it good for Fanny and Lloyd; and +we have all a taste for this wandering and dangerous life. My mother I +send home, to my relief, as this part of our cruise will be (if we can +carry it out) rather difficult in places. Here is the idea: about the +middle of June (unless the Boston Board objects) we sail from Honolulu +in the missionary ship (barquentine auxiliary steamer) _Morning Star_: +she takes us through the Gilberts and Marshalls, and drops us (this is +my great idea) on Ponape, one of the volcanic islands of the Carolines. +Here we stay marooned among a doubtful population, with a Spanish +vice-governor and five native kings, and a sprinkling of missionaries +all at loggerheads, on the chance of fetching a passage to Sydney in a +trader, a labour ship or (maybe, but this appears too bright) a ship of +war. If we can't get the _Morning Star_ (and the Board has many reasons +that I can see for refusing its permission) I mean to try to fetch Fiji, +hire a schooner there, do the Fijis and Friendlies, hit the course of +the _Richmond_ at Tonga Tabu, make back by Tahiti, and so to S. F., and +home: perhaps in June 1890. For the latter part of the cruise will +likely be the same in either case. You can see for yourself how much +variety and adventure this promises, and that it is not devoid of danger +at the best; but if we can pull it off in safety, gives me a fine book +of travel, and Lloyd a fine lecture and diorama, which should vastly +better our finances. + +I feel as if I were untrue to friendship; believe me, Colvin, when I +look forward to this absence of another year, my conscience sinks at +thought of the Monument; but I think you will pardon me if you consider +how much this tropical weather mends my health. Remember me as I was at +home, and think of me sea-bathing and walking about, as jolly as a +sandboy: you will own the temptation is strong; and as the scheme, bar +fatal accidents, is bound to pay into the bargain, sooner or later, it +seems it would be madness to come home now, with an imperfect book, no +illustrations to speak of, no diorama, and perhaps fall sick again by +autumn. I do not think I delude myself when I say the tendency to +catarrh has visibly diminished. + +It is a singular thing that as I was packing up old papers ere I left +Skerryvore, I came on the prophecies of a drunken Highland sibyl, when I +was seventeen. She said I was to be very happy, to visit America, and +_to be much upon the sea_. It seems as if it were coming true with a +vengeance. Also, do you remember my strong, old, rooted belief that I +shall die by drowning? I don't want that to come true, though it is an +easy death; but it occurs to me oddly, with these long chances in front. +I cannot say why I like the sea; no man is more cynically and +constantly alive to its perils; I regard it as the highest form of +gambling; and yet I love the sea as much as I hate gambling. Fine, clean +emotions; a world all and always beautiful; air better than wine; +interest unflagging; there is upon the whole no better life.--Yours +ever, + + R. L. S. + + + + +TO E. L. BURLINGAME + + + [_Honolulu, April 1889._] + +MY DEAR BURLINGAME,--This is to announce the most prodigious change of +programme. I have seen so much of the South Seas that I desire to see +more, and I get so much health here that I dread a return to our vile +climates. I have applied accordingly to the missionary folk to let me go +round in the _Morning Star_; and if the Boston Board should refuse, I +shall get somehow to Fiji, hire a trading schooner, and see the Fijis +and Friendlies and Samoa. He would be a South Seayer, Mr. Burlingame. Of +course, if I go in the _Morning Star_, I see all the eastern (or +western?) islands. + +Before I sail, I shall make out to let you have the last of _The +Master_: though I tell you it sticks!--and I hope to have had some +proofs forbye, of the verses anyway. And now to business. + +I want (if you can find them) in the British sixpenny edition, if not, +in some equally compact and portable shape--Seaside Library, for +instance--the Waverley Novels entire, or as entire as you can get 'em, +and the following of Marryat: _Phantom Ship_, _Peter Simple_, _Percival +Keene_, _Privateersman_, _Children of the New Forest_, _Frank Mildmay_, +_Newton Forster_, _Dog Fiend (Snarleyyow)_. Also _Midshipman Easy_, +_Kingsburn_, Carlyle's _French Revolution_, Motley's _Dutch Republic_, +Lang's _Letters on Literature_, a complete set of my works, _Jenkin_, in +duplicate; also _Familiar Studies_, ditto. + +I have to thank you for the accounts, which are satisfactory indeed, and +for the cheque for $1000. Another account will have come and gone before +I see you. I hope it will be equally roseate in colour. I am quite +worked out, and this cursed end of _The Master_ hangs over me like the +arm of the gallows; but it is always darkest before dawn, and no doubt +the clouds will soon rise; but it is a difficult thing to write, above +all in Mackellarese; and I cannot yet see my way clear. If I pull this +off, _The Master_ will be a pretty good novel or I am the more deceived; +and even if I don't pull if off, it'll still have some stuff in it. + +We shall remain here until the middle of June anyway; but my mother +leaves for Europe early in May. Hence our mail should continue to come +here; but not hers. I will let you know my next address, which will +probably be Sydney. If we get on the _Morning Star_, I propose at +present to get marooned on Ponape, and take my chance of getting a +passage to Australia. It will leave times and seasons mighty vague, and +the cruise is risky; but I shall know something of the South Seas when +it is done, or else the South Seas will contain all there is of me. It +should give me a fine book of travels, anyway. + +Low will probably come and ask some dollars of you. Pray let him have +them, they are for outfit. O, another complete set of my books should go +to Captain A. H. Otis, care of Dr. Merritt, Yacht _Casco_, Oakland, +Cal.--In haste, + + R. L. S. + + + + +TO MISS ADELAIDE BOODLE + + + _Honolulu, April 6th, 1889._ + +MY DEAR MISS BOODLE,--Nobody writes a better letter than my Gamekeeper: +so gay, so pleasant, so engagingly particular, answering (by some +delicate instinct) all the questions she suggests. It is a shame you +should get such a poor return as I can make, from a mind essentially and +originally incapable of the art epistolary. I would let the +paper-cutter take my place; but I am sorry to say the little wooden +seaman did after the manner of seamen, and deserted in the Societies. +The place he seems to have stayed at--seems, for his absence was not +observed till we were near the Equator--was Tautira, and, I assure you, +he displayed good taste, Tautira being as "nigh hand heaven" as a +paper-cutter or anybody has a right to expect. + +I think all our friends will be very angry with us, and I give the +grounds of their probable displeasure bluntly--we are not coming home +for another year. My mother returns next month. Fanny, Lloyd, and I push +on again among the islands on a trading schooner, the _Equator_--first +for the Gilbert group, which we shall have an opportunity to explore +thoroughly; then, if occasion serve, to the Marshalls and Carolines; and +if occasion (or money) fail, to Samoa, and back to Tahiti. I own we are +deserters, but we have excuses. You cannot conceive how these climates +agree with the wretched house-plant of Skerryvore: he wonders to find +himself sea-bathing, and cutting about the world loose, like a grown-up +person. They agree with Fanny too, who does not suffer from her +rheumatism, and with Lloyd also. And the interest of the islands is +endless; and the sea, though I own it is a fearsome place, is very +delightful. We had applied for places in the American missionary ship, +the _Morning Star_, but this trading schooner is a far preferable idea, +giving us more time and a thousandfold more liberty; so we determined to +cut off the missionaries with a shilling. + +The Sandwich Islands do not interest us very much; we live here, +oppressed with civilisation, and look for good things in the future. But +it would surprise you if you came out to-night from Honolulu (all +shining with electric lights, and all in a bustle from the arrival of +the mail, which is to carry you these lines) and crossed the long wooden +causeway along the beach, and came out on the road through Kapiolani +park, and seeing a gate in the palings, with a tub of gold-fish by the +wayside, entered casually in. The buildings stand in three groups by +the edge of the beach, where an angry little spitfire sea continually +spirts and thrashes with impotent irascibility, the big seas breaking +further out upon the reef. The first is a small house, with a very large +summer parlour, or _lanai_, as they call it here, roofed, but +practically open. There you will find the lamps burning and the family +sitting about the table, dinner just done: my mother, my wife, Lloyd, +Belle, my wife's daughter, Austin her child, and to-night (by way of +rarity) a guest. All about the walls our South Sea curiosities, war +clubs, idols, pearl shells, stone axes, etc.; and the walls are only a +small part of a lanai, the rest being glazed or latticed windows, or +mere open space. You will see there no sign of the Squire, however; and +being a person of a humane disposition, you will only glance in over the +balcony railing at the merrymakers in the summer parlour, and proceed +further afield after the Exile. You look round, there is beautiful green +turf, many trees of an outlandish sort that drop thorns--look out if +your feet are bare; but I beg your pardon, you have not been long enough +in the South Seas--and many oleanders in full flower. The next group of +buildings is ramshackle, and quite dark; you make out a coach-house +door, and look in--only some cocoanuts; you try round to the left and +come to the sea front, where Venus and the moon are making luminous +tracks on the water, and a great swell rolls and shines on the outer +reef; and here is another door--all these places open from the +outside--and you go in, and find photography, tubs of water, negatives +steeping, a tap, and a chair and an ink-bottle, where my wife is +supposed to write; round a little further, a third door, entering which +you find a picture upon the easel and a table sticky with paints; a +fourth door admits you to a sort of court, where there is a hen +sitting--I believe on a fallacious egg. No sign of the Squire in all +this. But right opposite the studio door you have observed a third +little house, from whose open door lamp-light streams and makes hay of +the strong moonlight shadows. You had supposed it made no part of the +grounds, for a fence runs round it lined with oleander; but as the +Squire is nowhere else, is it not just possible he may be here? It is a +grim little wooden shanty; cobwebs bedeck it; friendly mice inhabit its +recesses; the mailed cockroach walks upon the wall; so also, I regret to +say, the scorpion. Herein are two pallet beds, two mosquito curtains, +strung to the pitch-boards of the roof, two tables laden with books and +manuscripts, three chairs, and, in one of the beds, the Squire busy +writing to yourself, as it chances, and just at this moment somewhat +bitten by mosquitoes. He has just set fire to the insect powder, and +will be all right in no time; but just now he contemplates large white +blisters, and would like to scratch them, but knows better. The house is +not bare; it has been inhabited by Kanakas, and--you know what children +are!--the bare wood walls are pasted over with pages from the _Graphic_, +_Harper's Weekly_, etc. The floor is matted, and I am bound to say the +matting is filthy. There are two windows and two doors, one of which is +condemned; on the panels of that last a sheet of paper is pinned up, and +covered with writing. I cull a few plums:-- + + "A duck-hammock for each person. + A patent organ like the commandant's at Taiohae. + Cheap and bad cigars for presents. + Revolvers. + Permanganate of potass. + Liniment for the head and sulphur. + Fine tooth-comb." + +What do you think this is? Simply life in the South Seas foreshortened. +These are a few of our desiderata for the next trip, which we jot down +as they occur. + +There, I have really done my best and tried to send something like a +letter--one letter in return for all your dozens. Pray remember us all +to yourself, Mrs. Boodle, and the rest of your house. I do hope your +mother will be better when this comes. I shall write and give you a new +address when I have made up my mind as to the most probable, and I do +beg you will continue to write from time to time and give us airs from +home. To-morrow--think of it--I must be off by a quarter to eight to +drive in to the palace and breakfast with his Hawaiian Majesty at 8.30: +I shall be dead indeed. Please give my news to Scott, I trust he is +better; give him my warm regards. To you we all send all kinds of +things, and I am the absentee Squire, + + ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. + + + + +TO CHARLES BAXTER + + + _Honolulu, April 1889._ + +MY DEAR CHARLES,--As usual, your letter is as good as a cordial, and I +thank you for it, and all your care, kindness, and generous and +thoughtful friendship, from my heart. I was truly glad to hear a word of +Colvin, whose long silence has terrified me; and glad to hear that you +condoned the notion of my staying longer in the South Seas, for I have +decided in that sense. The first idea was to go in the _Morning Star_, +missionary ship; but now I have found a trading schooner, the _Equator_, +which is to call for me here early in June and carry us through the +Gilberts. What will happen then, the Lord knows. My mother does not +accompany us: she leaves here for home early in May, and you will hear +of us from her; but not, I imagine, anything more definite. We shall get +dumped on Butaritari, and whether we manage to go on to the Marshalls +and Carolines, or whether we fall back on Samoa, Heaven must decide; but +I mean to fetch back into the course of the _Richmond_--(to think you +don't know what the _Richmond_ is!--_the_ steamer of the Eastern South +Seas, joining New Zealand, Tongatabu, the Samoas, Taheite, and +Rarotonga, and carrying by last advices sheep in the saloon!)--into the +course of the _Richmond_ and make Tahiti again on the home track. Would +I like to see the Scots Observer? Wouldn't I not? But whaur? I'm +direckit at space. They have nae post offishes at the Gilberts, and as +for the Car'lines! Ye see, Mr. Baxter, we're no just in the punkshewal +_centre_ o' civ'lisation. But pile them up for me, and when I've decided +on an address, I'll let you ken, and ye'll can send them stavin' after +me.--Ever your affectionate + + R. L. S. + + + + +TO CHARLES BAXTER + + + The reference in the first paragraph is to the publication in the + press, which Mr. Baxter had permitted, of one of Stevenson's letters + written during the earlier part of his voyage. R. L. S. had + remonstrated, always greatly disliking the publication of private + letters during the writer's lifetime; and now writes to soften the + effect of his remonstrance. + + _Honolulu, 10th May 1889._ + +MY DEAR CHARLES,--I am appalled to gather from your last just to hand +that you have felt so much concern about the letter. Pray dismiss it +from your mind. But I think you scarce appreciate how disagreeable it is +to have your private affairs and private unguarded expressions getting +into print. It would soon sicken any one of writing letters. I have no +doubt that letter was very wisely selected, but it just shows how things +crop up. There was a raging jealousy between the two yachts; our captain +was nearly in a fight over it. However, no more; and whatever you think, +my dear fellow, do not suppose me angry with you or ----; although I was +_annoyed at the circumstance_--a very different thing. But it is +difficult to conduct life by letter, and I continually feel I may be +drifting into some matter of offence, in which my heart takes no part. + +I must now turn to a point of business. This new cruise of ours is +somewhat venturesome; and I think it needful to warn you not to be in a +hurry to suppose us dead. In these ill-charted seas, it is quite on the +cards we might be cast on some unvisited, or very rarely visited, +island; that there we might lie for a long time, even years, unheard of; +and yet turn up smiling at the hinder end. So do not let me be "rowpit" +till you get some certainty we have gone to Davie Jones in a squall, or +graced the feast of some barbarian in the character of Long Pig. + +I have just been a week away alone on the lee coast of Hawaii, the only +white creature in many miles, riding five and a half hours one day, +living with a native, seeing four lepers shipped off to Molokai, hearing +native causes, and giving my opinion as _amicus curiae_ as to the +interpretation of a statute in English; a lovely week among God's +best--at least God's sweetest works--Polynesians. It has bettered me +greatly. If I could only stay there the time that remains, I could get +my work done and be happy; but the care of my family keeps me in vile +Honolulu, where I am always out of sorts, amidst heat and cold and +cesspools and beastly _haoles_.[31] What is a haole? You are one; and +so, I am sorry to say, am I. After so long a dose of whites, it was a +blessing to get among Polynesians again even for a week. + +Well, Charles, there are waur haoles than yoursel', I'll say that for +ye; and trust before I sail I shall get another letter with more about +yourself.--Ever your affectionate friend, + + R. L. S. + + + + +TO W. H. LOW + + + The allusions in the latter half of this letter are to the departure + for Europe of the young Hawaiian princess Kaiulani (see the poem + beginning "When from her land to mine she goes," in _Songs of + Travel_), and to the circumstances of the great hurricane at Apia on + March 15th, 1889. + + _Honolulu, (about) 20th May '89._ + +MY DEAR LOW,-- ... The goods have come; many daughters have done +virtuously, but thou excellest them all.--I have at length finished +_The Master_; it has been a sore cross to me; but now he is buried, his +body's under hatches,--his soul, if there is any hell to go to, gone to +hell; and I forgive him: it is harder to forgive Burlingame for having +induced me to begin the publication, or myself for suffering the +induction.--Yes, I think Hole has done finely; it will be one of the +most adequately illustrated books of our generation; he gets the note, +he tells the story--_my_ story: I know only one failure--the Master +standing on the beach.--You must have a letter for me at Sydney--till +further notice. Remember me to Mrs. Will. H., the godlike sculptor, and +any of the faithful. If you want to cease to be a republican, see my +little Kaiulani, as she goes through--but she is gone already. You will +die a red: I wear the colours of that little royal maiden, _Nous allons +chanter a la ronde, si vous voulez!_ only she is not blonde by several +chalks, though she is but a half-blood, and the wrong half Edinburgh +Scots like mysel'. But, O Low, I love the Polynesian: this civilisation +of ours is a dingy, ungentlemanly business; it drops out too much of +man, and too much of that the very beauty of the poor beast: who has his +beauties in spite of Zola and Co. As usual, here is a whole letter with +no news: I am a bloodless, inhuman dog; and no doubt Zola is a better +correspondent.--Long live your fine old English admiral--yours, I +mean--the U.S.A. one at Samoa; I wept tears and loved myself and mankind +when I read of him: he is not too much civilised. And there was Gordon, +too; and there are others, beyond question. But if you could live, the +only white folk, in a Polynesian village; and drink that warm, light +_vin du pays_ of human affection and enjoy that simple dignity of all +about you--I will not gush, for I am now in my fortieth year, which +seems highly unjust, but there it is, Mr. Low, and the Lord enlighten +your affectionate + + R. L. S. + + + + +[MRS. R. L. STEVENSON TO SIDNEY COLVIN + + + This letter shows the writer in her character of wise and anxious + critic of her husband's work. The result, in the judgment of most of + his friends, went far to justify her misgivings. + + _Honolulu, May 21st, 1889._ + +BEST OF FRIENDS,--It was a joy inexpressible to get a word from you at +last. Fortunately for our peace of mind, we were almost positive that +your letters had been sent to the places we had already left. Still it +was a bitter disappointment to get nothing from you when we arrived +here. I wish you could have seen us both throwing over the immense +package of letters searching for your handwriting. Now that we know you +have been ill, please do let some one send us a line to our next address +telling us how you are. What that next address may be we do not yet +know, as our final movements are a little uncertain. To begin with, a +trading schooner, the _Equator_, will come along some time in the first +part of June, lie outside the harbour here and signal to us. Within +forty-eight hours we shall pack up our possessions, our barrel of sauer +kraut, our barrel of salt onions, our bag of cocoanuts, our native +garments, our tobacco, fish hooks, red combs, and Turkey red calicoes +(all the latter for trading purposes), our hand organ, photograph and +painting materials, and finally our magic lantern--all these upon a +large whaleboat, and go out to the _Equator_. Lloyd, also, takes a +fiddle, a guitar, a native instrument something like a banjo, called a +taropatch fiddle, and a lot of song books. We shall be carried first to +one of the Gilberts, landing at Butaritari. The _Equator_ is going about +amongst the Gilbert group, and we have the right to keep her over when +we like within reasonable limits. Finally she will leave us, and we +shall have to take the chances of what happens next. We hope to see the +Marshalls, the Carolines, the Fijis, Tonga and Samoa (also other islands +that I do not remember), perhaps staying a little while in Sydney, and +stopping on our way home to see our friends in Tahiti and the Marquesas. +I am very much exercised by one thing. Louis has the most enchanting +material that any one ever had in the whole world for his book, and I am +afraid he is going to spoil it all. He has taken into his Scotch +Stevenson head that a stern duty lies before him, and that his book must +be a sort of scientific and historical impersonal thing, comparing the +different languages (of which he knows nothing, really) and the +different peoples, the object being to settle the question as to whether +they are of common Malay origin or not. Also to compare the Protestant +and Catholic missions, etc., and the whole thing to be impersonal, +leaving out all he knows of the people themselves. And I believe there +is no one living who has got so near to them, or who understands them as +he does. Think of a small treatise on the Polynesian races being offered +to people who are dying to hear about Ori a Ori, the making of brothers +with cannibals, the strange stories they told, and the extraordinary +adventures that befell us:--suppose Herman Melville had given us his +theories as to the Polynesian language and the probable good or evil +results of the missionary influence instead of _Omoo_ and _Typee_, or +Kinglake[32] instead of _Eothen_. Louis says it is a stern sense of duty +that is at the bottom of it, which is more alarming than anything else. +I am so sure that you will agree with me that I am going to ask you to +throw the weight of your influence as heavily as possible in the scales +with me. Please refer to the matter in the letters we shall receive at +our first stopping place, otherwise Louis will spend a great deal of +time in Sydney actually reading up other people's books on the Islands. +What a thing it is to have a "man of genius" to deal with. It is like +managing an overbred horse. Why with my own feeble hand I could write a +book that the whole world would jump at. Please keep any letters of mine +that contain any incidents of our wanderings. They are very exact as to +facts, and Louis may, in this conscientious state of mind (indeed I am +afraid he has), put nothing in his diary but statistics. Even if I +thought it a desirable thing to write what he proposes, I should still +think it impossible unless after we had lived and studied here some +twenty years or more. + +Now I am done with my complaining, and shall turn to the pleasanter +paths. Louis went to one of the other islands a couple of weeks ago, +quite alone, got drenched with rain and surf, rode over mountain +paths--five and a half hours one day--and came back none the worse for +it. To-day he goes to Molokai, the leper island. He never has a sign of +hemorrhage, the air cushion is a thing of the past, and altogether he is +a new man. How he will do in the English climate again I do not know, +but in these latitudes he is very nearly a well man, nothing seems to do +him harm but overwork. That, of course, is sometimes difficult to +prevent. Now, however, the _Master_ is done, we have enough money to go +upon and there is no need to work at all. I must stop. My dear love to +you all. + + FANNY V. DE G. STEVENSON.] + + + + +TO MRS. R. L. STEVENSON + + + The following two letters were written during and immediately after + Stevenson's trip to the noted leper settlement, the scene of Father + Damien's labours, at Molokai. + + _Kalawao, Molokai [May 1889]._ + +DEAR FANNY,--I had a lovely sail up. Captain Cameron and Mr. Gilfillan, +both born in the States, yet the first still with a strong Highland, and +the second still with a strong Lowland accent, were good company; the +night was warm, the victuals plain but good. Mr. Gilfillan gave me his +berth, and I slept well, though I heard the sisters sick in the next +stateroom, poor souls. Heavy rolling woke me in the morning; I turned +in all standing, so went right on the upper deck. The day was on the +peep out of a low morning bank, and we were wallowing along under +stupendous cliffs. As the lights brightened, we could see certain +abutments and buttresses on their front where wood clustered and grass +grew brightly. But the whole brow seemed quite impassable, and my heart +sank at the sight. Two thousand feet of rock making 19 deg. (the Captain +guesses) seemed quite beyond my powers. However, I had come so far; and, +to tell you the truth, I was so cowed with fear and disgust that I dared +not go back on the adventure in the interests of my own self-respect. +Presently we came up with the leper promontory: lowland, quite bare and +bleak and harsh, a little town of wooden houses, two churches, a +landing-stair, all unsightly, sour, northerly, lying athwart the +sunrise, with the great wall of the pali cutting the world out on the +south. Our lepers were sent on the first boat, about a dozen, one poor +child very horrid, one white man, leaving a large grown family behind +him in Honolulu, and then into the second stepped the sisters and +myself. I do not know how it would have been with me had the sisters not +been there. My horror of the horrible is about my weakest point; but the +moral loveliness at my elbow blotted all else out; and when I found that +one of them was crying, poor soul, quietly under her veil, I cried a +little myself; then I felt as right as a trivet, only a little crushed +to be there so uselessly. I thought it was a sin and a shame she should +feel unhappy; I turned round to her, and said something like this: +"Ladies, God Himself is here to give you welcome. I'm sure it is good +for me to be beside you; I hope it will be blessed to me; I thank you +for myself and the good you do me." It seemed to cheer her up; but +indeed I had scarce said it when we were at the landing-stairs, and +there was a great crowd, hundreds of (God save us!) pantomime masks in +poor human flesh, waiting to receive the sisters and the new patients. + +Every hand was offered: I had gloves, but I had made up my mind on the +boat's voyage _not_ to give my hand; that seemed less offensive than the +gloves. So the sisters and I went up among that crew, and presently I +got aside (for I felt I had no business there) and set off on foot +across the promontory, carrying my wrap and the camera. All horror was +quite gone from me: to see these dread creatures smile and look happy +was beautiful. On my way through Kalaupapa I was exchanging cheerful +_alohas_ with the patients coming galloping over on their horses; I was +stopping to gossip at house-doors; I was happy, only ashamed of myself +that I was here for no good. One woman was pretty, and spoke good +English, and was infinitely engaging and (in the old phrase) towardly; +she thought I was the new white patient; and when she found I was only a +visitor, a curious change came in her face and voice--the only sad +thing, morally sad, I mean--that I met that morning. But for all that, +they tell me none want to leave. Beyond Kalaupapa the houses became +rare; dry stone dykes, grassy, stony land, one sick pandanus; a dreary +country; from overhead in the little clinging wood shogs of the pali +chirruping of birds fell; the low sun was right in my face; the trade +blew pure and cool and delicious; I felt as right as ninepence, and +stopped and chatted with the patients whom I still met on their horses, +with not the least disgust. About half-way over, I met the +superintendent (a leper) with a horse for me, and O, wasn't I glad! But +the horse was one of those curious, dogged, cranky brutes that always +dully want to go somewhere else, and my traffic with him completed my +crushing fatigue. I got to the guest-house, an empty house with several +rooms, kitchen, bath, etc. There was no one there, and I let the horse +go loose in the garden, lay down on the bed, and fell asleep. + +Dr. Swift woke me and gave me breakfast, then I came back and slept +again while he was at the dispensary, and he woke me for dinner; and I +came back and slept again, and he woke me about six for supper; and +then in about an hour I felt tired again, and came up to my solitary +guest-house, played the flageolet, and am now writing to you. As yet, +you see, I have seen nothing of the settlement, and my crushing fatigue +(though I believe that was moral and a measure of my cowardice) and the +doctor's opinion make me think the pali hopeless. "You don't look a +strong man," said the doctor; "but are you sound?" I told him the truth; +then he said it was out of the question, and if I were to get up at all, +I must be carried up. But, as it seems, men as well as horses +continually fall on this ascent: the doctor goes up with a change of +clothes--it is plain that to be carried would in itself be very +fatiguing to both mind and body; and I should then be at the beginning +of thirteen miles of mountain road to be ridden against time. How should +I come through? I hope you will think me right in my decision: I mean to +stay, and shall not be back in Honolulu till Saturday, June first. You +must all do the best you can to make ready. + +Dr. Swift has a wife and an infant son, beginning to toddle and run, and +they live here as composed as brick and mortar--at least the wife does, +a Kentucky German, a fine enough creature, I believe, who was quite +amazed at the sisters shedding tears! How strange is mankind! Gilfillan +too, a good fellow I think, and far from a stupid, kept up his hard +Lowland Scottish talk in the boat while the sister was covering her +face; but I believe he knew, and did it (partly) in embarrassment, and +part perhaps in mistaken kindness. And that was one reason, too, why I +made my speech to them. Partly, too, I did it, because I was ashamed to +do so, and remembered one of my golden rules, "When you are ashamed to +speak, speak up at once." But, mind you, that rule is only golden with +strangers; with your own folks, there are other considerations. This is +a strange place to be in. A bell has been sounded at intervals while I +wrote, now all is still but a musical humming of the sea, not unlike +the sound of telegraph wires; the night is quite cool and pitch dark, +with a small fine rain; one light over in the leper settlement, one +cricket whistling in the garden, my lamp here by my bedside, and my pen +cheeping between my inky fingers. + +Next day, lovely morning, slept all night, 80 deg. in the shade, strong, +sweet Anaho trade-wind. + + LOUIS. + + + + +TO SIDNEY COLVIN + + + _Honolulu, June 1889._ + +MY DEAR COLVIN,--I am just home after twelve days' journey to Molokai, +seven of them at the leper settlement, where I can only say that the +sight of so much courage, cheerfulness, and devotion strung me too high +to mind the infinite pity and horror of the sights. I used to ride over +from Kalawao to Kalaupapa (about three miles across the promontory, the +cliff-wall, ivied with forest and yet inaccessible from steepness, on my +left), go to the Sisters' home, which is a miracle of neatness, play a +game of croquet with seven leper girls (90 deg. in the shade), got a little +old-maid meal served me by the Sisters, and ride home again, tired +enough, but not too tired. The girls have all dolls, and love dressing +them. You who know so many ladies delicately clad, and they who know so +many dressmakers, please make it known it would be an acceptable gift to +send scraps for doll dressmaking to the Reverend Sister Maryanne, Bishop +Home, Kalaupapa, Molokai, Hawaiian Islands. + +I have seen sights that cannot be told, and heard stories that cannot be +repeated: yet I never admired my poor race so much, nor (strange as it +may seem) loved life more than in the settlement. A horror of moral +beauty broods over the place: that's like bad Victor Hugo, but it is the +only way I can express the sense that lived with me all these days. And +this even though it was in great part Catholic, and my sympathies flow +never with so much difficulty as towards Catholic virtues. The passbook +kept with heaven stirs me to anger and laughter. One of the sisters +calls the place "the ticket office to heaven." Well, what is the odds? +They do their darg, and do it with kindness and efficiency incredible; +and we must take folks' virtues as we find them, and love the better +part. Of old Damien, whose weaknesses and worse perhaps I heard fully, I +think only the more. It was a European peasant: dirty, bigoted, +untruthful, unwise, tricky, but superb with generosity, residual candour +and fundamental good-humour: convince him he had done wrong (it might +take hours of insult) and he would undo what he had done and like his +corrector better. A man, with all the grime and paltriness of mankind, +but a saint and hero all the more for that. The place as regards scenery +is grand, gloomy, and bleak. Mighty mountain walls descending sheer +along the whole face of the island into a sea unusually deep; the front +of the mountain ivied and furred with clinging forest, one viridescent +cliff: about half-way from east to west, the low, bare, stony promontory +edged in between the cliff and the ocean; the two little towns (Kalawao +and Kalaupapa) seated on either side of it, as bare almost as bathing +machines upon a beach; and the population--gorgons and chimaeras dire. +All this tear of the nerves I bore admirably; and the day after I got +away, rode twenty miles along the opposite coast and up into the +mountains: they call it twenty, I am doubtful of the figures: I should +guess it nearer twelve; but let me take credit for what residents +allege; and I was riding again the day after, so I need say no more +about health. Honolulu does not agree with me at all: I am always out of +sorts there, with slight headache, blood to the head, etc. I had a good +deal of work to do and did it with miserable difficulty; and yet all the +time I have been gaining strength, as you see, which is highly +encouraging. By the time I am done with this cruise I shall have the +material for a very singular book of travels: names of strange stories +and characters, cannibals, pirates, ancient legends, old Polynesian +poetry,--never was so generous a farrago. I am going down now to get the +story of a shipwrecked family, who were fifteen months on an island with +a murderer: there is a specimen. The Pacific is a strange place; the +nineteenth century only exists there in spots: all round, it is a no +man's land of the ages, a stir-about of epochs and races, barbarisms and +civilisations, virtues and crimes. + +It is good of you to let me stay longer, but if I had known how ill you +were, I should be now on my way home. I had chartered my schooner and +made all arrangements before (at last) we got definite news. I feel +highly guilty; I should be back to insult and worry you a little. Our +address till further notice is to be c/o R. Towns & Co., Sydney. That is +final: I only got the arrangement made yesterday; but you may now +publish it abroad.--Yours ever, + + R. L. S. + + + + +TO JAMES PAYN + + + The following was written to his old friend of Cornhill Magazine + days, Mr. James Payn, on receiving in Hawaii news of that gentleman's + ill health and gathering deafness. + + _Honolulu, H.I., June 13th, 1889._ + +MY DEAR JAMES PAYN,--I get sad news of you here at my offsetting for +further voyages: I wish I could say what I feel. Sure there was never +any man less deserved this calamity; for I have heard you speak time and +again, and I remember nothing that was unkind, nothing that was untrue, +nothing that was not helpful, from your lips. It is the ill-talkers that +should hear no more. God knows, I know no word of consolation; but I do +feel your trouble. You are the more open to letters now; let me talk to +you for two pages. I have nothing but happiness to tell; and you may +bless God you are a man so sound-hearted that (even in the freshness of +your calamity) I can come to you with my own good fortune unashamed and +secure of sympathy. It is a good thing to be a good man, whether deaf or +whether dumb; and of all our fellow-craftsmen (whom yet they count a +jealous race), I never knew one but gave you the name of honesty and +kindness: come to think of it gravely, this is better than the finest +hearing. We are all on the march to deafness, blindness, and all +conceivable and fatal disabilities; we shall not all get there with a +report so good. My good news is a health astonishingly reinstated. This +climate; these voyagings; these landfalls at dawn; new islands peaking +from the morning bank; new forested harbours; new passing alarms of +squalls and surf; new interests of gentle natives,--the whole tale of my +life is better to me than any poem. + +I am fresh just now from the leper settlement of Molokai, playing +croquet with seven leper girls, sitting and yarning with old, blind, +leper beachcombers in the hospital, sickened with the spectacle of +abhorrent suffering and deformation amongst the patients, touched to the +heart by the sight of lovely and effective virtues in their helpers: no +stranger time have I ever had, nor any so moving. I do not think it a +little thing to be deaf, God knows, and God defend me from the +same!--but to be a leper, or one of the self-condemned, how much more +awful! and yet there's a way there also. "There are Molokais +everywhere," said Mr. Dutton, Father Damien's dresser; you are but new +landed in yours; and my dear and kind adviser, I wish you, with all my +soul, that patience and courage which you will require. Think of me +meanwhile on a trading schooner bound for the Gilbert Islands, +thereafter for the Marshalls, with a diet of fish and cocoanut before +me; bound on a cruise of--well, of investigation to what islands we can +reach, and to get (some day or other) to Sydney, where a letter +addressed to the care of R. Towns & Co. will find me sooner or later; +and if it contain any good news, whether of your welfare or the courage +with which you bear the contrary, will do me good.--Yours affectionately +(although so near a stranger), + + ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. + + + + +TO LADY TAYLOR + + + _Honolulu, June 19th, 1889._ + +MY DEAR LADY TAYLOR,--Our new home, the _Equator_, trading schooner, +rides at the buoy to-night, and we are for sea shortly. All your folk of +the Roost held us for phantoms and things of the night from our first +appearance; but I do wish you would try to believe in our continued +existence, as flesh and blood obscurely tossed in the Pacific, or +walking coral shores, and in our affection, which is more constant than +becomes the breasts of such absconders. My good health does not cease to +be wonderful to myself: Fanny is better in these warm places; it is the +very thing for Lloyd; and in the matter of interest, the spice of life, +etc., words cannot depict what fun we have. Try to have a little more +patience with the fugitives, and think of us now and again among the +Gilberts, where we ought to be about the time when you receive this +scrap. They make no great figure on the atlas, I confess; but you will +see the name there, if you look--which I wish you would, and try to +conceive us as still extant. We all send the kindest remembrances to all +of you; please make one of the girls write us the news to the care of R. +Towns & Co., Sydney, New South Wales, where we hope to bring up about +the end of the year--or later. Do not forget yours affectionately, + + ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. + + + + +TO SIDNEY COLVIN + + + Stevenson and his party sailed accordingly on the trading schooner + _Equator_, "on a certain bright June day in 1889," for the Gilbert + Islands, a scattered group of atolls in the Western Pacific. Their + expectation was to come back into civilisation again by way of the + Carolines, Manila, and the China ports; but instead of this, + circumstances which occurred to change the trader's course took them + southwards to Samoa, where they arrived in December of the same year. + Their second voyage was thus of six months' duration; in the course + of it they spent two periods of about six weeks each on land, first + at one and then at another of the two island capitals, Butaritari and + Apemama. The following letter is the first which reached Stevenson's + friends from this part of his voyage, and was written in two + instalments, the first from on board the _Equator_ in the lagoon of + the island of Apaiang; the second, six weeks later, from the + settlement on shore at Apemama, which the king, his friend Temhinoka, + allowed him and his party to occupy during their stay. The account of + this stay at Apemama and of the character of the king is far the most + interesting and attractive part of the volume called _In the South + Seas_, which was the literary result of these voyages. + + _Schooner Equator, Apaiang Lagoon, August 22nd, 1889._ + +MY DEAR COLVIN,--The missionary ship is outside the reef trying (vainly) +to get in; so I may have a chance to get a line off. I am glad to say I +shall be home by June next for the summer, or we shall know the reason +why. For God's sake be well and jolly for the meeting. I shall be, I +believe, a different character from what you have seen this long while. +This cruise is up to now a huge success, being interesting, pleasant, +and profitable. The beachcomber is perhaps the most interesting +character here; the natives are very different, on the whole, from +Polynesians: they are moral, stand-offish (for good reasons), and +protected by a dark tongue. It is delightful to meet the few Hawaiians +(mostly missionaries) that are dotted about, with their Italian _brio_ +and their ready friendliness. The whites are a strange lot, many of them +good, kind, pleasant fellows; others quite the lowest I have ever seen +even in the slums of cities. I wish I had time to narrate to you the +doings and character of three white murderers (more or less proven) I +have met. One, the only undoubted assassin of the lot, quite gained my +affection in his big home out of a wreck, with his New Hebrides wife in +her savage turban of hair and yet a perfect lady, and his three +adorable little girls in Rob Roy Macgregor dresses, dancing to the hand +organ, performing circus on the floor with startling effects of nudity, +and curling up together on a mat to sleep, three sizes, three attitudes, +three Rob Roy dresses, and six little clenched fists: the murderer +meanwhile brooding and gloating over his chicks, till your whole heart +went out to him; and yet his crime on the face of it was dark: +disembowelling, in his own house, an old man of seventy, and him drunk. + +It is lunch-time, I see, and I must close up with my warmest love to +you. I wish you were here to sit upon me when required. Ah! if you were +but a good sailor! I will never leave the sea, I think; it is only there +that a Briton lives: my poor grandfather, it is from him I inherit the +taste, I fancy, and he was round many islands in his day; but I, please +God, shall beat him at that before the recall is sounded. Would you be +surprised to learn that I contemplate becoming a shipowner? I do, but it +is a secret. Life is far better fun than people dream who fall asleep +among the chimney stacks and telegraph wires. + +Love to Henry James and others near.--Ever yours, my dear fellow, + + ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. + + + _Equator Town, Apemama, October 1889._ + +No _Morning Star_ came, however; and so now I try to send this to you by +the schooner _J. L. Tiernan_. We have been about a month ashore, camping +out in a kind of town the king set up for us: on the idea that I was +really a "big chief" in England. He dines with us sometimes, and sends +up a cook for a share of our meals when he does not come himself. This +sounds like high living! alas, undeceive yourself. Salt junk is the +mainstay; a low island, except for cocoanuts, is just the same as a ship +at sea: brackish water, no supplies, and very little shelter. The king +is a great character--a thorough tyrant, very much of a gentleman, a +poet, a musician, a historian, or perhaps rather more a genealogist--it +is strange to see him lying in his house among a lot of wives (nominal +wives) writing the History of Apemama in an account-book; his +description of one of his own songs, which he sang to me himself, as +"about sweethearts, and trees, and the sea--and no true, all-the-same +lie," seems about as compendious a definition of lyric poetry as a man +could ask. Tembinoka is here the great attraction: all the rest is heat +and tedium and villainous dazzle, and yet more villainous mosquitoes. We +are like to be here, however, many a long week before we get away, and +then whither? A strange trade this voyaging: so vague, so bound-down, so +helpless. Fanny has been planting some vegetables, and we have actually +onions and radishes coming up: ah, onion-despiser, were you but a while +in a low island, how your heart would leap at sight of a coster's +barrow! I think I could shed tears over a dish of turnips. No doubt we +shall all be glad to say farewell to low islands--I had near said for +ever. They are very tame; and I begin to read up the directory, and pine +for an island with a profile, a running brook, or were it only a well +among the rocks. The thought of a mango came to me early this morning +and set my greed on edge; but you do not know what a mango is, so----. + +I have been thinking a great deal of you and the Monument of late, and +even tried to get my thoughts into a poem, hitherto without success. God +knows how you are: I begin to weary dreadfully to see you--well, in nine +months, I hope; but that seems a long time. I wonder what has befallen +me too, that flimsy part of me that lives (or dwindles) in the public +mind; and what has befallen _The Master_, and what kind of a Box the +Merry Box has been found. It is odd to know nothing of all this. We had +an old woman to do devil-work for you about a month ago, in a Chinaman's +house on Apaiang (August 23rd or 24th), You should have seen the crone +with a noble masculine face, like that of an old crone [_sic_], a body +like a man's (naked all but the feathery female girdle), knotting +cocoanut leaves and muttering spells: Fanny and I, and the good captain +of the _Equator_, and the Chinaman and his native wife and +sister-in-law, all squatting on the floor about the sibyl; and a crowd +of dark faces watching from behind her shoulder (she sat right in the +doorway) and tittering aloud with strange, appalled, embarrassed +laughter at each fresh adjuration. She informed us you were in England, +not travelling and now no longer sick; she promised us a fair wind the +next day, and we had it, so I cherish the hope she was as right about +Sidney Colvin. The shipownering has rather petered out since I last +wrote, and a good many other plans beside. + +Health? Fanny very so-so; I pretty right upon the whole, and getting +through plenty work: I know not quite how, but it seems to me not bad +and in places funny. + +South Sea Yarns: + + 1. _The Wrecker_ } R. L. S. + 2. _The Pearl Fisher_ } by and + 3. _The Beachcombers_ } Lloyd O. + +_The Pearl Fisher_, part done, lies in Sydney. It is _The Wrecker_ we +are now engaged upon: strange ways of life, I think, they set forth: +things that I can scarce touch upon, or even not at all, in my travel +book; and the yarns are good, I do believe. _The Pearl Fisher_ is for +the New York Ledger: the yarn is a kind of Monte Cristo one. _The +Wrecker_ is the least good as a story, I think; but the characters seem +to me good. _The Beachcombers_ is more sentimental. These three scarce +touch the out-skirts of the life we have been viewing; a hot-bed of +strange characters and incidents: Lord, how different from Europe or the +Pallid States! Farewell. Heaven knows when this will get to you. I burn +to be in Sydney and have news. + + R. L. S. + + + + +TO SIDNEY COLVIN + + + The following, written in the last days of the sail southwards from + the Gilberts to Samoa, contains the full plan of the South Sea book + as it had now been conceived. In the issue, Part I. (so far as I + know) was never written; Parts II. and III. appeared serially in the + New York Sun, and were reprinted with corrections in the volume + called _In the South Seas_; Part IV. was never written; Part V. was + written but has not been printed, at least in this country; Part VI. + (and far the most successful) closes the volume _In the South Seas_; + Part VII. developed itself into _A Footnote to History_. The verses + at the end of this letter have already been printed (_Songs of + Travel_, vol. xiv., p. 244); but I give them here with the context, + as in similar instances above. The allusion is to the two colossal + images from Easter Island which used to stand under the portico to + the right hand of the visitor entering the Museum, were for some + years removed, and are now restored to their old place. + + _Schooner Equator, at sea. 190 miles off Samoa. + Monday, December 2nd, 1889._ + +MY DEAR COLVIN,--We are just nearing the end of our long cruise. Rain, +calms, squalls, bang--there's the foretopmast gone; rain, calm, squalls, +away with the stay-sail; more rain, more calm, more squalls; a +prodigious heavy sea all the time, and the _Equator_ staggering and +hovering like a swallow in a storm; and the cabin, a great square, +crowded with wet human beings, and the rain avalanching on the deck, and +the leaks dripping everywhere: Fanny, in the midst of fifteen males, +bearing up wonderfully. But such voyages are at the best a trial. We had +one particularity: coming down on Winslow Reef, p. d. (position +doubtful): two positions in the directory, a third (if you cared to +count that) on the chart; heavy sea running, and the night due. The +boats were cleared, bread put on board, and we made up our packets for a +boat voyage of four or five hundred miles, and turned in, expectant of a +crash. Needless to say it did not come, and no doubt we were far to +leeward. If we only had twopenceworth of wind, we might be at dinner in +Apia to-morrow evening; but no such luck: here we roll, dead before a +light air--and that is no point of sailing at all for a fore and aft +schooner--the sun blazing overhead, thermometer 88 deg., four degrees above +what I have learned to call South Sea temperature; but for all that, +land so near, and so much grief being happily astern, we are all pretty +gay on board, and have been photographing and draught-playing and +sky-larking like anything. I am minded to stay not very long in Samoa +and confine my studies there (as far as any one can forecast) to the +history of the late war. My book is now practically modelled: if I can +execute what is designed, there are few better books now extant on this +globe, bar the epics, and the big tragedies, and histories, and the +choice lyric poetics, and a novel or so--none. But it is not executed +yet; and let not him that putteth on his armour, vaunt himself. At +least, nobody has had such stuff; such wild stories, such beautiful +scenes, such singular intimacies, such manners and traditions, so +incredible a mixture of the beautiful and horrible, the savage and +civilised. I will give you here some idea of the table of contents, +which ought to make your mouth water. I propose to call the book _The +South Seas_: it is rather a large title, but not many people have seen +more of them than I, perhaps no one--certainly no one capable of using +the material. + + _Part I. General. "Of schooners, islands, and maroons"_ + + CHAPTER I. Marine. + + " II. Contraband (smuggling, barratry, labour traffic). + + " III. The Beachcomber. + + " IV. Beachcomber stories, i. The Murder of the Chinaman, ii. + Death of a Beachcomber. iii. A Character, iv. The Apia + Blacksmith. + + + _Part II. The Marquesas_ + + " V. Anaho. i. Arrival, ii. Death, iii. The Tapu. iv. Morals, v. + Hoka. + + " VI. Tai-o-hae. i. Arrival. ii. The French. iii. The Royal Family. + iv. Chiefless Folk. v. The Catholics. vi. Hawaiian + Missionaries + + " VII. Observations of a Long Pig. i. Cannibalism, ii. Hatiheu. iii. + Frere Michel, iv. Taa-hauku and Atuona. v. The Vale of + Atuona. vi. Moipu. vii. Captain Hati. + + _Part III. The Dangerous Archipelago_ + + " VIII. The Group. + + " IX. A House to let in a Low Island. + + " X. A Paumotuan Funeral, i. The Funeral, ii. Tales of the Dead. + + + _Part IV. Tahiti_ + + " XI. Tautira. + + " XII. Village Government in Tahiti. + + " XIII. A Journey in Quest of Legends. + + " XIV. Legends and Songs. + + " XV. Life in Eden. + + " XVI. Note on the French Regimen. + + + _Part V. The Eight Islands_ + + " XVII. A Note on Missions. + + " XVIII. The Kona Coast of Hawaii. i. Hookena. ii. A Ride in the + Forest. iii. A Law Case. iv. The City of Refuge. v. The + Lepers. + + " XIX. Molokai. i. A Week in the Precinct. ii. History of the Leper + Settlement, iii. The Mokolii. iv. The Free Island. + + + _Part VI. The Gilberts_ + + " XX. The Group, ii. Position of Woman, iii. The Missions. iv. + Devilwork. v. Republics. + + " XXI. Rule and Misrule on Makin. i. Butaritari, its King and Court. + ii. History of Three Kings. iii. The Drink Question. + + " XXII. A Butaritarian Festival. + + " XXIII. The King of Apemama. i. First Impressions. ii. Equator Town + and the Palace. iii. The Three Corselets. + + + _Part VII. Samoa_ + + which I have not yet reached. + + +Even as so sketched it makes sixty chapters, not less than 300 Cornhill +pages; and I suspect not much under 500. Samoa has yet to be accounted +for: I think it will be all history, and I shall work in observations on +Samoan manners, under the similar heads in other Polynesian islands. It +is still possible, though unlikely, that I may add a passing visit to +Fiji or Tonga, or even both; but I am growing impatient to see yourself, +and I do not want to be later than June of coming to England. Anyway, +you see it will be a large work, and as it will be copiously +illustrated, the Lord knows what it will cost. We shall return, God +willing, by Sydney, Ceylon, Suez and, I guess, Marseilles the +many-masted (copyright epithet). I shall likely pause a day or two in +Paris, but all that is too far ahead--although now it begins to look +near--so near, and I can hear the rattle of the hansom up Endell Street, +and see the gates swing back, and feel myself jump out upon the Monument +steps--Hosanna!--home again. My dear fellow, now that my father is done +with his troubles, and 17 Heriot Row no more than a mere shell, you and +that gaunt old Monument in Bloomsbury are all that I have in view when I +use the word home; some passing thoughts there may be of the rooms at +Skerryvore, and the blackbirds in the chine on a May morning; but the +essence is S.C. and the Museum. Suppose, by some damned accident, you +were no more; well, I should return just the same, because of my mother +and Lloyd, whom I now think to send to Cambridge; but all the spring +would have gone out of me, and ninety per cent. of the attraction lost. +I will copy for you here a copy of verses made in Apemama. + + I heard the pulse of the besieging sea + Throb far away all night. I heard the wind + Fly crying, and convulse tumultuous palms. + I rose and strolled. The isle was all bright sand, + And flailing fans and shadows of the palm: + The heaven all moon, and wind, and the blind vault-- + The keenest planet slain, for Venus slept. + The King, my neighbour, with his host of wives, + Slept in the precinct of the palisade: + Where single, in the wind, under the moon, + Among the slumbering cabins, blazed a fire, + Sole street-lamp and the only sentinel. + To other lands and nights my fancy turned. + To London first, and chiefly to your house, + The many-pillared and the well-beloved. + There yearning fancy lighted; there again + In the upper room I lay and heard far off + The unsleeping city murmur like a shell; + The muffled tramp of the Museum guard + Once more went by me; I beheld again + Lamps vainly brighten the dispeopled street; + Again I longed for the returning morn, + The awaking traffic, the bestirring birds, + The consentancous trill of tiny song + That weaves round monumental cornices + A passing charm of beauty: most of all, + For your light foot I wearied, and your knock + That was the glad reveille of my day. + Lo, now, when to your task in the great house + At morning through the portico you pass, + One moment glance where, by the pillared wall, + Far-voyaging island gods, begrimed with smoke, + Sit now unworshipped, the rude monument + Of faiths forgot and races undivined; + Sit now disconsolate, remembering well + The priest, the victim, and the songful crowd, + The blaze of the blue noon, and that huge voice + Incessant, of the breakers on the shore. + As far as these from their ancestral shrine, + So far, so foreign, your divided friends + Wander, estranged in body, not in mind. + + R. L. S. + + + + +TO E. L. BURLINGAME + + + _Schooner Equator, at sea, Wednesday, 4th December 1889._ + +MY DEAR BURLINGAME,--We are now about to rise, like whales, from this +long dive, and I make ready a communication which is to go to you by the +first mail from Samoa. How long we shall stay in that group I cannot +forecast; but it will be best still to address at Sydney, where I trust, +when I shall arrive, perhaps in one month from now, more probably in two +or three, to find all news. + +_Business._--Will you be likely to have a space in the Magazine for a +serial story, which should be ready, I believe, by April, at latest by +autumn? It is called _The Wrecker_; and in book form will appear as +number 1 of _South Sea Yarns_ by R. L. S. and Lloyd Osbourne. Here is +the table as far as fully conceived, and indeed executed.[33]... + +The story is founded on fact, the mystery I really believe to be +insoluble; the purchase of a wreck has never been handled before, no +more has San Francisco. These seem all elements of success. There is, +besides, a character, Jim Pinkerton, of the advertising American, on +whom we build a good deal; and some sketches of the American merchant +marine, opium smuggling in Honolulu, etc. It should run to (about) three +hundred pages of my MS. I would like to know if this tale smiles upon +you, if you will have a vacancy, and what you will be willing to pay. It +will of course be copyright in both the States and England. I am a +little anxious to have it tried serially, as it tests the interest of +the mystery. + +_Pleasure._--We have had a fine time in the Gilbert group, though four +months on low islands, which involves low diet, is a largeish order; and +my wife is rather down. I am myself, up to now, a pillar of health, +though our long and vile voyage of calms, squalls, cataracts of rain, +sails carried away, foretopmast lost, boats cleared and packets made on +the approach of a p. d. reef, etc., has cured me of salt brine, and +filled me with a longing for beef steak and mangoes not to be depicted. +The interest has been immense. Old King Tembinoka of Apemama, the +Napoleon of the group, poet, tyrant, altogether a man of mark, gave me +the woven corselets of his grandfather, his father and his uncle, and, +what pleased me more, told me their singular story, then all manner of +strange tales, facts, and experiences for my South Sea book, which +should be a Tearer, Mr. Burlingame: no one at least has had such stuff. + +We are now engaged in the hell of a dead calm, the heat is cruel--it is +the only time when I suffer from heat: I have nothing on but a pair of +serge trousers, and a singlet without sleeves of Oxford gauze--O, yes, +and a red sash about my waist; and yet as I sit here in the cabin, sweat +streams from me. The rest are on deck under a bit of awning; we are not +much above a hundred miles from port, and we might as well be in +Kamschatka. However, I should be honest: this is the first calm I have +endured without the added bane of a heavy swell, and the intoxicated +blue-bottle wallowings and knockings of the helpless ship. + +I wonder how you liked the end of _The Master_; that was the hardest job +I ever had to do; did I do it? + +My wife begs to be remembered to yourself and Mrs. Burlingame. Remember +all of us to all friends, particularly Low, in case I don't get a word +through for him.--I am, yours very sincerely, + + ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. + + + + +TO CHARLES BAXTER + + The following was written soon after the termination of the voyage of + the _Equator_ and Stevenson's first landing in Samoa, where he was + engaged in collecting materials for the account (then intended to be + the concluding part of his great projected South Sea book) of the war + and hurricane of the previous year. + + _Samoa [December 1889]._ + +MY DEAR BAXTER,-- ... I cannot return until I have seen either Tonga or +Fiji or both: and I must not leave here till I have finished my +collections on the war--a very interesting bit of history, the truth +often very hard to come at, and the search (for me) much complicated by +the German tongue, from the use of which I have desisted (I suppose) +these fifteen years. The last two days I have been mugging with a +dictionary from five to six hours a day; besides this, I have to call +upon, keep sweet, and judiciously interview all sorts of +persons--English, American, German, and Samoan. It makes a hard life; +above all, as after every interview I have to come and get my notes +straight on the nail. I believe I should have got my facts before the +end of January, when I shall make for Tonga or Fiji. I am down right in +the hurricane season; but they had so bad a one last year, I don't +imagine there will be much of an edition this. Say that I get to Sydney +some time in April, and I shall have done well, and be in a position to +write a very singular and interesting book, or rather two; for I shall +begin, I think, with a separate opuscule on the Samoan Trouble, about +as long as _Kidnapped_, not very interesting, but valuable--and a thing +proper to be done. And then, hey! for the big South Sea Book: a devil of +a big one, and full of the finest sport. + +This morning as I was going along to my breakfast a little before seven, +reading a number of Blackwood's Magazine, I was startled by a soft +_talofa, alii_ (note for my mother: they are quite courteous here in the +European style, quite unlike Tahiti), right in my ear: it was Mataafa +coming from early mass in his white coat and white linen kilt, with +three fellows behind him. Mataafa is the nearest thing to a hero in my +history, and really a fine fellow; plenty sense, and the most dignified, +quiet, gentle manners. Talking of Blackwood--a file of which I was lucky +enough to find here in the lawyer's--Mrs. Oliphant seems in a staggering +state: from the _Wrong Box_ to _The Master_ I scarce recognise either my +critic or myself. I gather that _The Master_ should do well, and at +least that notice is agreeable reading. I expect to be home in June: you +will have gathered that I am pretty well. In addition to my labours, I +suppose I walk five or six miles a day, and almost every day I ride up +and see Fanny and Lloyd, who are in a house in the bush with Ah Fu. I +live in Apia for history's sake with Moors, an American trader. Day +before yesterday I was arrested and fined for riding fast in the street, +which made my blood bitter, as the wife of the manager of the German +Firm has twice almost ridden me down, and there seems none to say her +nay. The Germans have behaved pretty badly here, but not in all ways so +ill as you may have gathered: they were doubtless much provoked; and if +the insane Knappe had not appeared upon the scene, might have got out of +the muddle with dignity. I write along without rhyme or reason, as +things occur to me. + +I hope from my outcries about printing you do not think I want you to +keep my news or letters in a Blue Beard closet. I like all friends to +hear of me; they all should if I had ninety hours in the day, and +strength for all of them; but you must have gathered how hard worked I +am, and you will understand I go to bed a pretty tired man. + + + _29th December [1889]._ + +To-morrow (Monday, I won't swear to my day of the month; this is the +Sunday between Christmas and New Year) I go up the coast with Mr. +Clarke, one of the London Society missionaries, in a boat to examine +schools, see Tamasese, etc. Lloyd comes to photograph. Pray Heaven we +have good weather; this is the rainy season; we shall be gone four or +five days; and if the rain keep off, I shall be glad of the change; if +it rain, it will be beastly. This explains still further how hard +pressed I am, as the mail will be gone ere I return, and I have thus +lost the days I meant to write in. I have a boy, Henry, who interprets +and copies for me, and is a great nuisance. He said he wished to come to +me in order to learn "long explessions." Henry goes up along with us; +and as I am not fond of him, he may before the trip is over hear some +"stlong explessions." I am writing this on the back balcony at Moors', +palms and a hill like the hill of Kinnoull looking in at me; myself +lying on the floor, and (like the parties in Handel's song) "clad in +robes of virgin white"; the ink is dreadful, the heat delicious, a fine +going breeze in the palms, and from the other side of the house the +sudden angry splash and roar of the Pacific on the reef, where the +warships are still piled from last year's hurricane, some under water, +one high and dry upon her side, the strangest figure of a ship was ever +witnessed; the narrow bay there is full of ships; the men-of-war covered +with sail after the rains, and (especially the German ship, which is +fearfully and awfully top heavy) rolling almost yards in, in what +appears to be calm water. + +Samoa, Apia at least, is far less beautiful than the Marquesas or +Tahiti: a more gentle scene, gentler acclivities, a tamer face of +nature; and this much aided, for the wanderer, by the great German +plantations with their countless regular avenues of palms. The island +has beautiful rivers, of about the bigness of our waters in the +Lothians, with pleasant pools and waterfalls and overhanging verdure, +and often a great volume of sound, so that once I thought I was passing +near a mill, and it was only the voice of the river. I am not specially +attracted by the people; but they are courteous; the women very +attractive, and dress lovely; the men purposelike, well set up, tall, +lean, and dignified. As I write, the breeze is brisking up, doors are +beginning to slam, and shutters; a strong draught sweeps round the +balcony; it looks doubtful for to-morrow. Here I shut up.--Ever your +affectionate + + R. L. STEVENSON. + + + + +TO LADY TAYLOR + + + This letter contains the first announcement of the purchase of the + Vailima estate (not yet so named). Sir Percy Shelley had died in the + previous December. + + _Apia, Samoa, Jan. 20th, 1890._ + +MY DEAR LADY TAYLOR,--I shall hope to see you in some months from now, +when I come home--to break up my establishment--I know no diminutive of +the word. Your daughters cast a spell upon me; they were always +declaring I was a winged creature and would vanish into the uttermost +isle; and they were right, and I have made my preparations. I am now the +owner of an estate upon Upolu, some two or three miles behind and above +Apia; three streams, two waterfalls, a great cliff, an ancient native +fort, a view of the sea and lowlands, or (to be more precise) several +views of them in various directions, are now mine. It would be +affectation to omit a good many head of cattle; above all as it required +much diplomacy to have them thrown in, for the gentleman who sold to me +was staunch. Besides all this, there is a great deal more forest than I +have any need for; or to be plain the whole estate is one impassable +jungle, which must be cut down and through at considerable expense. Then +the house has to be built; and then (as a climax) we may have to stand a +siege in it in the next native war. + +I do feel as if I was a coward and a traitor to desert my friends; only, +my dear lady, you know what a miserable corrhyzal (is that how it is +spelt?) creature I was at home: and here I have some real health, I can +walk, I can ride, I can stand some exposure, I am up with the sun, I +have a real enjoyment of the world and of myself; it would be hard to go +back again to England and to bed; and I think it would be very silly. I +am sure it would; and yet I feel shame, and I know I am not writing like +myself. I wish you knew how much I admired you, and when I think of +those I must leave, how early a place your name occupies. I have not had +the pleasure to know you very long; and yet I feel as if my leaving +England were a special treachery to you, and my leaving you a treachery +to myself. I will only ask you to try to forgive me: for I am sure I +will never quite forgive myself. Somebody might write to me in the care +of R. Towns & Co., Sydney, New South Wales, to tell me if you can +forgive. But you will do quite right if you cannot. Only let me come and +see you when we do return, or it will be a lame home-coming. + +My wife suffered a good deal in our last, somewhat arduous voyage; all +our party indeed suffered except myself. Fanny is now better but she is +still no very famous success in the way of health. + +All the while I have been writing, I have had another matter in my eye; +of which I scarce like to speak: You know of course that I am thinking +of Sir Percy and his widow. The news has reached me in the shape of a +newspaper cutting, I have no particulars. He had a sweet, original +nature; I think I liked him better than ever I should have liked his +father; I am sorry he was always a little afraid of me; if I had had +more chance, he would have liked me too, we had so much in common, and +I valued so much his fine soul, as honest as a dog's, and the romance of +him, which was like a dog's too, and like a poet's at the same time. If +he had not been Shelley's son, people would have thought more of him; +and yet he was the better of the two, bar verses. + +Please tell my dear Ida and Una that we think much of them, as well as +of your dear self, and believe me, in words which you once allowed me to +use (and I was very much affected when you did so), your affectionate +friend, + + ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. + + + + +TO DR. SCOTT + + + This gentleman is the physician to whose assiduous care and kindness, + as recorded in the dedication to _Underwoods_, Stevenson owed so much + during his invalid years at Bournemouth. + + _Apia, Samoa, January 20th, 1890._ + +MY DEAR SCOTT,--Shameful indeed that you should not have heard of me +before! I have now been some twenty months in the South Seas, and am (up +to date) a person whom you would scarce know. I think nothing of long +walks and rides: I was four hours and a half gone the other day, partly +riding, partly climbing up a steep ravine. I have stood a six months' +voyage on a copra schooner with about three months ashore on coral +atolls, which means (except for cocoanuts to drink) no change whatever +from ship's food. My wife suffered badly--it was too rough a business +altogether--Lloyd suffered--and, in short, I was the only one of the +party who "kept my end up." + +I am so pleased with this climate that I have decided to settle; have +even purchased a piece of land from three to four hundred acres, I know +not which till the survey is completed, and shall only return next +summer to wind up my affairs in England; thenceforth I mean to be a +subject of the High Commissioner. + +Now you would have gone longer yet without news of your truant patient, +but that I have a medical discovery to communicate. I find I can (almost +immediately) fight off a cold with liquid extract of coca; two or (if +obstinate) three teaspoonfuls in the day for a variable period of from +one to five days sees the cold generally to the door. I find it at once +produces a glow, stops rigour, and though it makes one very +uncomfortable, prevents the advance of the disease. Hearing of this +influenza, it occurred to me that this might prove remedial; and perhaps +a stronger exhibition--injections of cocaine, for instance--still +better. + +If on my return I find myself let in for this epidemic, which seems +highly calculated to nip me in the bud, I shall feel very much inclined +to make the experiment. See what a gulf you may save me from if you +shall have previously made it on _anima vili_, on some less important +sufferer, and shall have found it worse than useless. + +How is Miss Boodle and her family? Greeting to your brother and all +friends in Bournemouth.--Yours very sincerely, + + ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. + + + + +TO CHARLES BAXTER + + + After a stay of four or five weeks at Apia, during which he had + fallen more and more in love with Samoa and the Samoans, Stevenson + took steamer again, this time for Sydney, where he had ordered his + letters to await him. This and the two following letters were written + during the passage. I again print in their original place a set of + verses separately published in _Songs of Travel_. + + _Februar den 3en 1890 + Dampfer Luebeck, zwischen Apia und Sydney._ + +MY DEAR CHARLES,--I have got one delightful letter from you, and heard +from my mother of your kindness in going to see her. Thank you for that: +you can in no way more touch and serve me.... Ay, ay, it is sad to sell +17; sad and fine were the old days: when I was away in Apemama, I wrote +two copies of verse about Edinburgh and the past, so ink black, so +golden bright. I will send them, if I can find them, for they will say +something to you, and indeed one is more than half addressed to you. +This is it-- + + TO MY OLD COMRADES + + Do you remember--can we e'er forget?-- + How, in the coiled perplexities of youth, + In our wild climate, in our scowling town, + We gloomed and shivered, sorrowed, sobbed, and feared? + The belching winter wind, the missile rain, + The rare and welcome silence of the snows, + The laggard morn, the haggard day, the night, + The grimy spell of the nocturnal town, + Do you remember?--Ah, could one forget! + As when the fevered sick that all night long + Listed the wind intone, and hear at last + The ever-welcome voice of the chanticleer + Sing in the bitter hour before the dawn,-- + With sudden ardour, these desire the day: + +(Here a squall sends all flying.) + + So sang in the gloom of youth the bird of hope; + So we, exulting, hearkened and desired. + For lo! as in the palace porch of life + We huddled with chimeras, from within-- + How sweet to hear!--the music swelled and fell, + And through the breach of the revolving doors + What dreams of splendour blinded us and fled! + I have since then contended and rejoiced; + Amid the glories of the house of life + Profoundly entered, and the shrine beheld: + Yet when the lamp from my expiring eyes + Shall dwindle and recede, the voice of love + Fall insignificant on my closing ears, + What sound shall come but the old cry of the wind + In our inclement city? what return + But the image of the emptiness of youth, + Filled with the sound of footsteps and that voice + Of discontent and rapture and despair? + So, as in darkness, from the magic lamp, + The momentary pictures gleam and fade + And perish, and the night resurges--these + Shall I remember, and then all forget. + +They're pretty second-rate, but felt. I can't be bothered to copy the +other. + +I have bought 314-1/2 acres of beautiful land in the bush behind Apia; +when we get the house built, the garden laid, and cattle in the place, +it will be something to fall back on for shelter and food; and if the +island could stumble into political quiet, it is conceivable it might +even bring a little income.... We range from 600 to 1500 feet, have five +streams, waterfalls, precipices, profound ravines, rich tablelands, +fifty head of cattle on the ground (if any one could catch them), a +great view of forest, sea, mountains, the warships in the haven: really +a noble place. Some day you are to take a long holiday and come and see +us: it has been all planned. + +With all these irons in the fire, and cloudy prospects, you may be sure +I was pleased to hear a good account of business. I believed _The +Master_ was a sure card: I wonder why Henley thinks it grimy; grim it +is, God knows, but sure not grimy, else I am the more deceived. I am +sorry he did not care for it; I place it on the line with _Kidnapped_ +myself. We'll see as time goes on whether it goes above or falls below. + + R. L. S. + + + + +TO E. L. BURLINGAME + + + The Editor of Scribner's Magazine had written asking him for fresh + contributions, and he sends the set of verses addressed to + Tembinoka, the king at Butaritari, and afterwards reprinted in + _Songs of Travel_, beginning "Let us who part like brothers part like + bards." + + _S.S. _Luebeck_ [between Apia and Sydney, February] 1890_ + +MY DEAR BURLINGAME,--I desire nothing better than to continue my +relation with the Magazine, to which it pleases me to hear I have been +useful. The only thing I have ready is the enclosed barbaric piece. As +soon as I have arrived in Sydney I shall send you some photographs, a +portrait of Tembinoka, perhaps a view of the palace or of the "matted +men" at their singing; also T.'s flag, which my wife designed for him: +in a word, what I can do best for you. It will be thus a foretaste of my +book of travels. I shall ask you to let me have, if I wish it, the use +of the plates made, and to make up a little tract of the verses and +illustrations, of which you might send six copies to H.M. Tembinoka, +King of Apemama, via Butaritari, Gilbert Islands. It might be best to +send it by Crawford & Co., S.F. There is no postal service; and +schooners must take it, how they may and when. Perhaps some such note as +this might be prefixed: + +_At my departure from the island of Apemama, for which you will look in +vain in most atlases, the king and I agreed, since we both set up to be +in the poetical way, that we should celebrate our separation in verse. +Whether or not his majesty has been true to his bargain, the laggard +posts of the Pacific may perhaps inform me in six months, perhaps not +before a year. The following lines represent my part of the contract, +and it is hoped, by their pictures of strange manners, they may +entertain a civilised audience. Nothing throughout has been invented or +exaggerated; the lady herein referred to as the author's Muse, has +confined herself to stringing into rhyme facts and legends that I saw or +heard during two months' residence upon the island._ + + R. L. S. + + +You will have received from me a letter about _The Wrecker_. No doubt +it is a new experiment for me, being disguised so much as a study of +manners, and the interest turning on a mystery of the detective sort. I +think there need be no hesitation about beginning it in the fall of the +year. Lloyd has nearly finished his part, and I shall hope to send you +very soon the MS. of about the first four-sevenths. At the same time, I +have been employing myself in Samoa, collecting facts about the recent +war; and I propose to write almost at once and to publish shortly a +small volume, called I know not what--the War in Samoa, the Samoa +Trouble, an Island War, the War of the Three Consuls, I know +not--perhaps you can suggest. It was meant to be a part of my travel +book; but material has accumulated on my hands until I see myself forced +into volume form, and I hope it may be of use, if it come soon. I have a +few photographs of the war, which will do for illustrations. It is +conceivable you might wish to handle this in the Magazine, although I am +inclined to think you won't, and to agree with you. But if you think +otherwise, there it is. The travel letters (fifty of them) are already +contracted for in papers; these I was quite bound to let M'Clure handle, +as the idea was of his suggestion, and I always felt a little sore as to +one trick I played him in the matter of the end-papers. The war-volume +will contain some very interesting and picturesque details: more I can't +promise for it. Of course the fifty newspaper letters will be simply +patches chosen from the travel volume (or volumes) as it gets written, +But you see I have in hand:-- + + Say half done. 1. _The Wrecker_. + + Lloyd's copy half done, mine 2. _The Pearl Fisher_ (a novel promised + not touched. to the Ledger, and which will form, + when it comes in book form, No. 2 + of our _South Sea Yarns_). + + Not begun, but all material 3. The War volume. + ready. + + Ditto. 4. The Big Travel Book, which includes + the letters. + + You know how they stand. 5. The _Ballads_. + +_Excusez du peu!_ And you see what madness it would be to make any fresh +engagements. At the same time, you have _The Wrecker_ and the War +volume, if you like either--or both--to keep my name in the Magazine. + +It begins to look as if I should not be able to get any more ballads +done this somewhile. I know the book would sell better if it were all +ballads; and yet I am growing half tempted to fill up with some other +verses. A good few are connected with my voyage, such as the "Home of +Tembinoka" sent herewith, and would have a sort of slight affinity to +the _South Sea Ballads_. You might tell me how that strikes a stranger. + +In all this, my real interest is with the travel volume, which ought to +be of a really extraordinary interest. + +I am sending you "Tembinoka" as he stands; but there are parts of him +that I hope to better, particularly in stanzas III. and II. I scarce +feel intelligent enough to try just now; and I thought at any rate you +had better see it, set it up if you think well, and let me have a proof; +so, at least, we shall get the bulk of it straight. I have spared you +Tenkoruti, Tembaitake, Tembinatake, and other barbarous names, because I +thought the dentists in the States had work enough without my +assistance; but my chief's name is TEMBINOKA, pronounced, according to +the present quite modern habit in the Gilberts, Tembinok'. Compare in +the margin Tengkorootch; a singular new trick, setting at defiance all +South Sea analogy, for nowhere else do they show even the ability, far +less the will, to end a word upon a consonant. Loia is Lloyd's name, +ship becomes shipe, teapot tipote, etc. Our admirable friend Herman +Melville, of whom, since I could judge, I have thought more than ever, +had no ear for languages whatever: his Hapar tribe should be Hapaa, etc. + +But this is of no interest to you: suffice it, you see how I am as usual +up to the neck in projects, and really all likely bairns this time. When +will this activity cease? Too soon for me, I dare to say. + + R. L. S. + + + + +TO JAMES PAYN + + + _February 4th, 1890_, S.S. Luebeck. + +MY DEAR JAMES PAYN,--In virtue of confessions in your last, you would at +the present moment, if you were along of me, be sick; and I will ask you +to receive that as an excuse for my hand of write. Excuse a plain seaman +if he regards with scorn the likes of you pore land-lubbers ashore now. +(Reference to nautical ditty.) Which I may however be allowed to add +that when eight months' mail was laid by my side one evening in Apia, +and my wife and I sat up the most of the night to peruse the +same--(precious indisposed we were next day in consequence)--no letter, +out of so many, more appealed to our hearts than one from the pore, +stick-in-the-mud, land-lubbering, common (or garden) Londoner, James +Payn. Thank you for it; my wife says, "Can't I see him when we get back +to London?" I have told her the thing appeared to me within the spear of +practical politix. (Why can't I spell and write like an honest, sober, +god-fearing litry gent? I think it's the motion of the ship.) Here I was +interrupted to play chess with the chief engineer; as I grow old, I +prefer the "athletic sport of cribbage," of which (I am sure I misquote) +I have just been reading in your delightful _Literary Recollections_. +How you skim along, you and Andrew Lang (different as you are), and yet +the only two who can keep a fellow smiling every page, and ever and +again laughing out loud. I joke wi' deeficulty, I believe; I am not +funny; and when I am, Mrs. Oliphant says I'm vulgar, and somebody else +says (in Latin) that I'm a whore, which seems harsh and even uncalled +for: I shall stick to weepers; a 5s. weeper, 2s. 6d. laugher, 1s. +shocker. + +My dear sir, I grow more and more idiotic; I cannot even feign sanity. +Some time in the month of June a stalwart weather-beaten man, evidently +of seafaring antecedents, shall be observed wending his way between the +Athenaeum Club and Waterloo Place. Arrived off No. 17, he shall be +observed to bring his head sharply to the wind, and tack into the outer +haven. "Captain Payn in the harbour?"--"Ay, ay, sir. What +ship?"--"Barquentin R. L. S., nine hundred and odd days out from the port +of Bournemouth, homeward bound, with yarns and curiosities." + +Who was it said, "For God's sake, don't speak of it!" about Scott and +his tears? He knew what he was saying. The fear of that hour is the +skeleton in all our cupboards; that hour when the pastime and the +livelihood go together; and--I am getting hard of hearing myself; a pore +young child of forty, but new come frae my Mammy, O! + +Excuse these follies, and accept the expression of all my +regards.--Yours affectionately, + + R. L. STEVENSON. + + + + +TO HENRY JAMES + + + The _Solution_ is a short story of Mr. Henry James, first published + in a periodical and reprinted in the collection called _The Lesson of + the Master_ (Macmillans). + + _Union Club, Sydney, February 19, 1890._ + +HERE--in this excellent civilised, antipodal club smoking-room, I have +just read the first part of your _Solution_. Dear Henry James, it is an +exquisite art; do not be troubled by the shadows of your French +competitors: not one, not de Maupassant, could have done a thing more +clean and fine; dry in touch, but the atmosphere (as in a fine summer +sunset) rich with colour and with perfume. I shall say no more; this +note is De Solutione; except that I--that we--are all your sincere +friends and hope to shake you by the hand in June. + + ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. + + + signed, sealed and + delivered as his act + and deed + and very thought of very thought, + this nineteenth of February in the year of our + Lord one thousand eight hundred ninety and + nothing. + + + + +TO MRS. THOMAS STEVENSON + + + Written while he was still in a white heat of indignation on behalf + of Father Damien. He was not aware that Dr. Hyde's letter had been a + private one not meant for publicity, and later came to think he might + have struck as effectively on behalf of Damien without striking so + fiercely against Dr. Hyde (see below, p. 404). "Damon" is the Rev. F. + Damon, a missionary in Hawaii. + + _Union Club, Sydney, March 5, 1890._ + +MY DEAR MOTHER,--I understand the family keeps you somewhat informed. +For myself I am in such a whirl of work and society, I can ill spare a +moment. My health is excellent and has been here tried by abominable wet +weather, and (what's waur) dinners and lunches. As this is like to be +our metropolis, I have tried to lay myself out to be sociable with an +eye to yoursel'. Several niceish people have turned up: Fanny has an +evening, but she is about at the end of the virtuous effort, and shrinks +from the approach of any fellow creature. + +Have you seen Hyde's (Dr. not Mr.) letter about Damien? That has been +one of my concerns; I have an answer in the press; and have just written +a difficult letter to Damon trying to prepare him for what (I fear) +must be to him extremely painful. The answer is to come out as a +pamphlet; of which I make of course a present to the publisher. I am not +a cannibal, I would not eat the flesh of Dr. Hyde,--and it is +conceivable it will make a noise in Honolulu. I have struck as hard as I +knew how; nor do I think my answer can fail to do away (in the minds of +all who see it) with the effect of Hyde's incredible and really +villainous production. What a mercy I wasn't this man's _guest_ in the +_Morning Star_! I think it would have broke my heart. + +Time for me to go!--I remain, with love, + + R. L. S. + + + + +TO CHARLES BAXTER + + + Stevenson had not been long at Sydney--just long enough to write and + print the famous _Letter to Dr. Hyde_ in defence of Father + Damien--when, to his heavy disappointment, he fell ill again with one + of his old bad attacks of fever and hemorrhage from the lungs. It was + this experience which finally determined him to settle for good on + his new island property in Samoa, which at first he had thought of + rather as an occasional refuge and resting-place in the intervals + between future projected yachting voyages. + + _Union Club, Sydney, March 7th, 1890._ + +MY DEAR CHARLES,--I did not send off the enclosed before from laziness; +having gone quite sick, and being a blooming prisoner here in the club, +and indeed in my bedroom. I was in receipt of your letters and your +ornamental photo, and was delighted to see how well you looked, and how +reasonably well I stood.... I am sure I shall never come back home +except to die; I may do it, but shall always think of the move as +suicidal, unless a great change comes over me, of which as yet I see no +symptom. This visit to Sydney has smashed me handsomely; and yet I made +myself a prisoner here in the club upon my first arrival. This is not +encouraging for further ventures; Sydney winter--or, I might almost say, +Sydney spring, for I came when the worst was over--is so small an +affair, comparable to our June depression at home in Scotland.... The +pipe is right again; it was the springs that had rusted, and ought to +have been oiled. Its voice is now that of an angel; but, Lord! here in +the club I dare not wake it! Conceive my impatience to be in my own +backwoods and raise the sound of minstrelsy. What pleasures are to be +compared with those of the Unvirtuous Virtuoso.--Yours ever +affectionately, the Unvirtuous Virtuoso, + + ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. + + + + +TO SIDNEY COLVIN + + + To try and recover from the effects of his illness at Sydney, + Stevenson determined to take another voyage; and started accordingly + in April with his party on a trading steamer, the _Janet Nicoll_, + which took him by a long and devious course among many groups of + islands that he had not yet visited, returning to Sydney in August by + way of New Caledonia. On the first night out of Auckland harbour the + voyage nearly came to a premature end through the blowing up of some + trade fireworks, or materials for fireworks, which had been packed in + the stateroom. + + _S.S. Janet Nicoll, off Upolu [Spring 1890]._ + +MY DEAREST COLVIN,--I was sharply ill at Sydney, cut off, right out of +bed, in this steamer on a fresh island cruise, and have already reaped +the benefit. We are excellently found this time, on a spacious vessel, +with an excellent table; the captain, supercargo, our one +fellow-passenger, etc., very nice; and the charterer, Mr. Henderson, the +very man I could have chosen. The truth is, I fear, this life is the +only one that suits me; so long as I cruise in the South Seas, I shall +be well and happy--alas, no, I do not mean that, and _absit omen_!--I +mean that, so soon as I cease from cruising, the nerves are strained, +the decline commences, and I steer slowly but surely back to bedward. We +left Sydney, had a cruel rough passage to Auckland, for the _Janet_ is +the worst roller I was ever aboard of. I was confined to my cabin, +ports closed, self shied out of the berth, stomach (pampered till the +day I left on a diet of perpetual egg-nogg) revolted at ship's food and +ship eating, in a frowsy bunk, clinging with one hand to the plate, with +the other to the glass, and using the knife and fork (except at +intervals) with the eyelid. No matter: I picked up hand over hand. After +a day in Auckland, we set sail again; were blown up in the main cabin +with calcium fires, as we left the bay. Let no man say I am +unscientific: when I ran, on the alert, out of my stateroom, and found +the main cabin incarnadined with the glow of the last scene of a +pantomime, I stopped dead: "What is this?" said I. "This ship is on +fire, I see that; but why a pantomime?" And I stood and reasoned the +point, until my head was so muddled with the fumes that I could not find +the companion. A few seconds later, the captain had to enter crawling on +his belly, and took days to recover (if he has recovered) from the +fumes. By singular good fortune, we got the hose down in time and saved +the ship, but Lloyd lost most of his clothes and a great part of our +photographs was destroyed. Fanny saw the native sailors tossing +overboard a blazing trunk; she stopped them in time, and behold, it +contained my manuscripts. Thereafter we had three (or two) days fine +weather: then got into a gale of wind, with rain and a vexatious sea. As +we drew into our anchorage in a bight of Savage Island, a man ashore +told me afterwards the sight of the _Janet Nicoll_ made him sick; and +indeed it was rough play, though nothing to the night before. All +through this gale I worked four to six hours per diem spearing the +ink-bottle like a flying fish, and holding my papers together as I +might. For, of all things, what I was at was history--the Samoan +business--and I had to turn from one to another of these piles of +manuscript notes, and from one page to another in each, until I should +have found employment for the hands of Briareus. All the same, this +history is a godsend for a voyage; I can put in time, getting events +co-ordinated and the narrative distributed, when my much-heaving +numskull would be incapable of finish or fine style. At Savage we met +the missionary barque _John Williams_. I tell you it was a great day for +Savage Island: the path up the cliffs was crowded with gay islandresses +(I like that feminine plural) who wrapped me in their embraces, and +picked my pockets of all my tobacco, with a manner which a touch would +have made revolting, but as it was, was simply charming, like the Golden +Age. One pretty, little, stalwart minx, with a red flower behind her +ear, had searched me with extraordinary zeal; and when, soon after, I +missed my matches, I accused her (she still following us) of being the +thief. After some delay, and with a subtle smile, she produced the box, +gave me _one match_, and put the rest away again. Too tired to add +more.--Your most affectionate + + R. L. S. + + + + +TO E. L. BURLINGAME + + + The idea here discussed of a further series of essays to be + contributed to Scribner's Magazine was never carried out. + + _S.S. Janet Nicoll, off Peru Island, Kingsmills + Group, July 13th, '90._ + +MY DEAR BURLINGAME,--I am moved to write to you in the matter of the end +papers. I am somewhat tempted to begin them again. Follow the reasons +_pro_ and _con_:-- + +1st. I must say I feel as if something in the nature of the end paper +were a desirable finish to the number, and that the substitutes of +occasional essays by occasional contributors somehow fail to fill the +bill. Should you differ with me on this point, no more is to be said. +And what follows must be regarded as lost words. + +2nd. I am rather taken with the idea of continuing the work. For +instance, should you have no distaste for papers of the class called +_Random Memories_, I should enjoy continuing them (of course at +intervals), and when they were done I have an idea they might make a +readable book. On the other hand, I believe a greater freedom of choice +might be taken, the subjects more varied and more briefly treated, in +somewhat approaching the manner of Andrew Lang in the _Sign of the +Ship_; it being well understood that the broken sticks[34] method is one +not very suitable (as Colonel Burke would say) to my genius, and not +very likely to be pushed far in my practice. Upon this point I wish you +to condense your massive brain. In the last lot I was promised, and I +fondly expected to receive, a vast amount of assistance from intelligent +and genial correspondents. I assure you, I never had a scratch of a pen +from any one above the level of a village idiot, except once, when a +lady sowed my head full of grey hairs by announcing that she was going +to direct her life in future by my counsels. Will the correspondents be +more copious and less irrelevant in the future? Suppose that to be the +case, will they be of any use to me in my place of exile? Is it possible +for a man in Samoa to be in touch with the great heart of the People? +And is it not perhaps a mere folly to attempt, from so hopeless a +distance, anything so delicate as a series of papers? Upon these points, +perpend, and give me the results of your perpensions. + +3rd. The emolument would be agreeable to your humble servant. + +I have now stated all the _pros_, and the most of the _cons_ are come in +by the way. There follows, however, one immense Con (with a capital +"C"), which I beg you to consider particularly. I fear that, to be of +any use for your magazine, these papers should begin with the beginning +of a volume. Even supposing my hands were free, this would be now +impossible for next year. You have to consider whether, supposing you +have no other objection, it would be worth while to begin the series in +the middle of a volume, or desirable to delay the whole matter until +the beginning of another year. + +Now supposing that the _cons_ have it, and you refuse my offer, let me +make another proposal, which you will be very inclined to refuse at the +first off-go, but which I really believe might in time come to +something. You know how the penny papers have their answers to +correspondents. Why not do something of the same kind for the +"culchawed"? Why not get men like Stimson, Brownell, Professor James, +Goldwin Smith, and others who will occur to you more readily than to me, +to put and to answer a series of questions of intellectual and general +interest, until at last you should have established a certain standard +of matter to be discussed in this part of the Magazine? + +I want you to get me bound volumes of the Magazine from its start. The +Lord knows I have had enough copies; where they are I know not. A +wandering author gathers no magazines. + +_The Wrecker_ is in no forrader state than in last reports. I have +indeed got to a period when I cannot well go on until I can refresh +myself on the proofs of the beginning. My respected collaborator, who +handles the machine which is now addressing you, has indeed carried his +labours farther, but not, I am led to understand, with what we used to +call a blessing; at least, I have been refused a sight of his latest +labours. However, there is plenty of time ahead, and I feel no anxiety +about the tale, except that it may meet with your approval. + +All this voyage I have been busy over my _Travels_, which, given a very +high temperature and the saloon of a steamer usually going before the +wind, and with the cabins in front of the engines, has come very near to +prostrating me altogether. You will therefore understand that there are +no more poems. I wonder whether there are already enough, and whether +you think that such a volume would be worth the publishing? I shall hope +to find in Sydney some expression of your opinion on this point. Living +as I do among--not the most cultured of mankind ("splendidly educated +and perfect gentlemen when sober")--I attach a growing importance to +friendly criticisms from yourself. + +I believe that this is the most of our business. As for my health, I got +over my cold in a fine style, but have not been very well of late. To my +unaffected annoyance, the blood-spitting has started again. I find the +heat of a steamer decidedly wearing and trying in these latitudes, and I +am inclined to think the superior expedition rather dearly paid for. +Still, the fact that one does not even remark the coming of a squall, +nor feel relief on its departure, is a mercy not to be acknowledged +without gratitude. The rest of the family seem to be doing fairly well; +both seem less run down than they were on the _Equator_, and Mrs. +Stevenson very much less so. We have now been three months away, have +visited about thirty-five islands, many of which were novel to us, and +some extremely entertaining; some also were old acquaintances, and +pleasant to revisit. In the meantime, we have really a capital time +aboard ship, in the most pleasant and interesting society, and with +(considering the length and nature of the voyage) an excellent table. +Please remember us all to Mr. Scribner, the young chieftain of the +house, and the lady, whose health I trust is better. To Mrs. Burlingame +we all desire to be remembered, and I hope you will give our news to +Low, St. Gaudens, Faxon, and others of the faithful in the city. I shall +probably return to Samoa direct, having given up all idea of returning +to civilisation in the meanwhile. There, on my ancestral acres, which I +purchased six months ago from a blind Scots blacksmith, you will please +address me until further notice. The name of the ancestral acres is +going to be Vailima; but as at the present moment nobody else knows the +name, except myself and the co-patentees, it will be safer, if less +ambitious, to address R. L. S., Apia, Samoa. The ancestral acres run to +upwards of three hundred; they enjoy the ministrations of five streams, +whence the name. They are all at the present moment under a trackless +covering of magnificent forest, which would be worth a great deal if it +grew beside a railway terminus. To me, as it stands, it represents a +handsome deficit. Obliging natives from the Cannibal Islands are now +cutting it down at my expense. You would be able to run your magazine to +much greater advantage if the terms of authors were on the same scale +with those of my cannibals. We have also a house about the size of a +manufacturer's lodge. 'Tis but the egg of the future palace, over the +details of which on paper Mrs. Stevenson and I have already shed real +tears; what it will be when it comes to paying for it, I leave you to +imagine. But if it can only be built as now intended, it will be with +genuine satisfaction and a growunded pride that I shall welcome you at +the steps of my Old Colonial Home, when you land from the steamer on a +long-merited holiday. I speak much at my ease; yet I do not know, I may +be now an outlaw, a bankrupt, the abhorred of all good men. I do not +know, you probably do. Has Hyde[35] turned upon me? Have I fallen, like +Danvers Carew? + +It is suggested to me that you might like to know what will be my future +society. Three consuls, all at loggerheads with one another, or at the +best in a clique of two against one; three different sects of +missionaries, not upon the best of terms; and the Catholics and +Protestants in a condition of unhealable ill-feeling as to whether a +wooden drum ought or ought not to be beaten to announce the time of +school. The native population, very genteel, very songful, very +agreeable, very good-looking, chronically spoiling for a fight (a +circumstance not to be entirely neglected in the design of the palace). +As for the white population of (technically, "The Beach"), I don't +suppose it is possible for any person not thoroughly conversant with the +South Seas to form the smallest conception of such a society, with its +grog-shops, its apparently unemployed hangers-on, its merchants of all +degrees of respectability and the reverse. The paper, of which I must +really send you a copy--if yours were really a live magazine, you would +have an exchange with the editor: I assure you, it has of late contained +a great deal of matter about one of your contributors--rejoices in the +name of Samoa Times and South Sea Advertiser. The advertisements in the +Advertiser are permanent, being simply subsidies for its existence. A +dashing warfare of newspaper correspondence goes on between the various +residents, who are rather fond of recurring to one another's +antecedents. But when all is said, there are a lot of very nice, +pleasant people, and I don't know that Apia is very much worse than half +a hundred towns that I could name. + + ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. + + + + +TO CHARLES BAXTER + + + As above indicated, on the way between Samoa and Sydney Stevenson + left the _Janet Nicoll_ for a week's stay in New Caledonia, during + which he was hospitably received by the French officials. + + _Hotel Sebastopol, Noumea, August 1890._ + +MY DEAR CHARLES,--I have stayed here a week while Lloyd and my wife +continue to voyage in the _Janet Nicoll_; this I did, partly to see the +convict system, partly to shorten my stay in the extreme cold--hear me +with my extreme! _moi qui suis originaire d'Edimbourg_--of Sydney at +this season. I am feeling very seedy, utterly fatigued and overborne +with sleep. I have a fine old gentleman of a doctor, who attends and +cheers and entertains, if he does not cure me; but even with his +ministrations I am almost incapable of the exertion sufficient for this +letter; and I am really, as I write, falling down with sleep. What is +necessary to say, I must try to say shortly. Lloyd goes to clear out our +establishments: pray keep him in funds, if I have any; if I have not, +pray try to raise them. Here is the idea: to install ourselves, at the +risk of bankruptcy, in Samoa. It is not the least likely it will pay +(although it may); but it is almost certain it will support life, with +very few external expenses. If I die, it will be an endowment for the +survivors, at least for my wife and Lloyd; and my mother, who might +prefer to go home, has her own. Hence I believe I shall do well to hurry +my installation. The letters are already in part done; in part done is a +novel for Scribner; in the course of the next twelve months I should +receive a considerable amount of money. I am aware I had intended to pay +back to my capital some of this. I am now of opinion I should act +foolishly. Better to build the house and have a roof and farm of my own; +and thereafter, with a livelihood assured, save and repay.... There is +my livelihood, all but books and wine, ready in a nutshell; and it ought +to be more easy to save and to repay afterwards. Excellent, say you, but +will you save and will you repay? I do not know, said the Bell of Old +Bow.... It seems clear to me.... The deuce of the affair is that I do +not know when I shall see you and Colvin. I guess you will have to come +and see me: many a time already we have arranged the details of your +visit in the yet unbuilt house on the mountain. I shall be able to get +decent wine from Noumea. We shall be able to give you a decent welcome, +and talk of old days. _Apropos_ of old days, do you remember still the +phrase we heard in Waterloo Place? I believe you made a piece for the +piano on that phrase. Pray, if you remember it, send it me in your next. +If you find it impossible to write correctly, send it me _a la +recitative_, and indicate the accents. Do you feel (you must) how +strangely heavy and stupid I am? I must at last give up and go sleep; I +am simply a rag. + +_The morrow._--I feel better, but still dim and groggy. To-night I go to +the governor's; such a lark--no dress clothes--twenty-four hours' +notice--able-bodied Polish tailor--suit made for a man with the figure +of a puncheon--same hastily altered for self with the figure of a +bodkin--sight inconceivable. Never mind; dress clothes, "which nobody +can deny"; and the officials have been all so civil that I liked neither +to refuse nor to appear in mufti. Bad dress clothes only prove you are a +grisly ass; no dress clothes, even when explained, indicate a want of +respect. I wish you were here with me to help me dress in this wild +raiment, and to accompany me to M. Noel-Pardon's. I cannot say what I +would give if there came a knock now at the door and you came in. I +guess Noel-Pardon would go begging, and we might burn the fr. 200 dress +clothes in the back garden for a bonfire; or what would be yet more +expensive and more humorous, get them once more expanded to fit you, and +when that was done, a second time cut down for my gossamer dimensions. + +I hope you never forget to remember me to your father, who has always a +place in my heart, as I hope I have a little in his. His kindness helped +me infinitely when you and I were young; I recall it with gratitude and +affection in this town of convicts at the world's end. There are very +few things, my dear Charles, worth mention: on a retrospect of life, the +day's flash and colour, one day with another, flames, dazzles, and puts +to sleep; and when the days are gone, like a fast-flying thaumatrope, +they make but a single pattern. Only a few things stand out; and among +these--most plainly to me--Rutland Square.--Ever, my dear Charles, your +affectionate friend, + + ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. + + +_P.S._--Just returned from trying on the dress clo'. Lord, you should +see the coat! It stands out at the waist like a bustle, the flaps cross +in front, the sleeves are like bags. + + + + +TO E. L. BURLINGAME + + + Proceeding from New Caledonia to Sydney, Stevenson again made a stay + there of about a month, before going to settle in his new island home + and superintend the operations of planting and building. The next + letter is in acknowledgment of proofs received from Messrs. Scribner + of a proposed volume of verse to contain, besides _Ticonderoga_ and + the two ballads on Marquesan and Tahitian legends, a number of the + other miscellaneous verses which he had written in the course of his + travels. In the end, the ballads only stood for publication at this + time; the other verses were reserved, and have been posthumously + published under the title _Songs of Travel_. + + _Union Club, Sydney [August 1890]._ + +MY DEAR BURLINGAME,-- + + _Ballads._ + +The deuce is in this volume. It has cost me more botheration and dubiety +than any other I ever took in hand. On one thing my mind is made up: the +verses at the end have no business there, and throw them down. Many of +them are bad, many of the rest want nine years' keeping, and the +remainder are not relevant--throw them down; some I never want to hear +of more, others will grow in time towards decent items in a second +_Underwoods_--and in the meanwhile, down with them! At the same time, I +have a sneaking idea the ballads are not altogether without merit--I +don't know if they're poetry, but they're good narrative, or I'm +deceived. (You've never said one word about them, from which I astutely +gather you are dead set against: "he was a diplomatic man"--extract from +epitaph of E. L. B.--"and remained on good terms with Minor Poets.") You +will have to judge: one of the Gladstonian trinity of paths must be +chosen. (1st) Either publish the five ballads, such as they are, in a +volume called _Ballads_; in which case pray send sheets at once to +Chatto and Windus. Or (2nd) write and tell me you think the book too +small, and I'll try and get into the mood to do some more. Or (3rd) +write and tell me the whole thing is a blooming illusion; in which case +draw off some twenty copies for my private entertainment, and charge me +with the expense of the whole dream. + +In the matter of rhyme no man can judge himself; I am at the world's +end, have no one to consult, and my publisher holds his tongue. I call +it unfair and almost unmanly. I do indeed begin to be filled with +animosity; Lord, wait till you see the continuation of _The Wrecker_, +when I introduce some New York publishers.... It's a good scene; the +quantities you drink and the really hideous language you are represented +as employing may perhaps cause you one tithe of the pain you have +inflicted by your silence on, sir, The Poetaster, + + R. L. S. + + +Lloyd is off home; my wife and I dwell sundered: she in lodgings, +preparing for the move; I here in the club, and at my old +trade--bedridden. Naturally, the visit home is given up; we only wait +our opportunity to get to Samoa, where, please, address me. + +Have I yet asked you to despatch the books and papers left in your care +to me at Apia, Samoa? I wish you would, _quam primum_. + + R. L. S. + + + + +TO HENRY JAMES + + + _Union Club, Sydney, August 1890._ + +MY DEAR HENRY JAMES,--Kipling is too clever to live. The _Bete +Humaine_[36] I had already perused in Noumea, listening the while to the +strains of the convict band. He is a Beast; but not human, and, to be +frank, not very interesting. "Nervous maladies: the homicidal ward," +would be the better name: O, this game gets very tedious. + +Your two long and kind letters have helped to entertain the old familiar +sickbed. So has a book called _The Bondman_, by Hall Caine; I wish you +would look at it. I am not half-way through yet. Read the book, and +communicate your views. Hall Caine, by the way, appears to take Hugo's +view of History and Chronology (_Later_; the book doesn't keep up; it +gets very wild.) + +I must tell you plainly--I can't tell Colvin--I do not think I shall +come to England more than once, and then it'll be to die. Health I enjoy +in the tropics; even here, which they call sub- or semi-tropical, I come +only to catch cold. I have not been out since my arrival; live here in +a nice bedroom by the fireside, and read books and letters from Henry +James, and send out to get his _Tragic Muse_, only to be told they can't +be had as yet in Sydney, and have altogether a placid time. But I can't +go out! The thermometer was nearly down to 50 deg. the other day--no +temperature for me, Mr. James: how should I do in England? I fear not at +all. Am I very sorry? I am sorry about seven or eight people in England, +and one or two in the States. And outside of that, I simply prefer +Samoa. These are the words of honesty and soberness. (I am fasting from +all but sin, coughing, _The Bondman_, a couple of eggs and a cup of +tea.) I was never fond of towns, houses, society, or (it seems) +civilisation. Nor yet it seems was I ever very fond of (what is +technically called) God's green earth. The sea, islands, the islanders, +the island life and climate, make and keep me truly happier. These last +two years I have been much at sea, and I have _never wearied_; sometimes +I have indeed grown impatient for some destination; more often I was +sorry that the voyage drew so early to an end; and never once did I lose +my fidelity to blue water and a ship. It is plain, then, that for me my +exile to the place of schooners and islands can be in no sense regarded +as a calamity. + +Good-bye just now: I must take a turn at my proofs. + + +_N.B._--Even my wife has weakened about the sea. She wearied, the last +time we were ashore, to get afloat again.--Yours ever, + + R. L. S. + + + + +TO MARCEL SCHWOB + + + _Union Club, Sydney, August 19th, 1890._ + +MY DEAR MR. SCHWOB,--_Mais, alors, vous avez tous les bonheurs, vous!_ +More about Villon; it seems incredible: when it is put in order, pray +send it me. + +You wish to translate the _Black Arrow_: dear sir, you are hereby +authorised; but I warn you, I do not like the work. Ah, if you, who know +so well both tongues, and have taste and instruction--if you would but +take a fancy to translate a book of mine that I myself admired--for we +sometimes admire our own--or I do--with what satisfaction would the +authority be granted! But these things are too much to expect. _Vous ne +detestez pas alors mes bonnes femmes? moi, je les deteste._ I have never +pleased myself with any women of mine save two character parts, one of +only a few lines--the Countess of Rosen, and Madame Desprez in the +_Treasure of Franchard_. + +I had indeed one moment of pride about my poor _Black Arrow_: Dickon +Crookback I did, and I do, think is a spirited and possible figure. +Shakespeare's--O, if we can call that cocoon Shakespeare!--Shakespeare's +is spirited--one likes to see the untaught athlete butting against the +adamantine ramparts of human nature, head down, breech up; it reminds us +how trivial we are to-day, and what safety resides in our triviality. +For spirited it may be, but O, sure not possible! I love Dumas and I +love Shakespeare: you will not mistake me when I say that the Richard of +the one reminds me of the Porthos of the other; and if by any sacrifice +of my own literary baggage I could clear the _Vicomte de Bragelonne_ of +Porthos, _Jekyll_ might go, and the _Master_, and the _Black Arrow_, you +may be sure, and I should think my life not lost for mankind if half a +dozen more of my volumes must be thrown in. + +The tone of your pleasant letters makes me egotistical; you make me take +myself too gravely. Comprehend how I have lived much of my time in +France, and loved your country, and many of its people, and all the time +was learning that which your country has to teach--breathing in rather +that atmosphere of art which can only there be breathed; and all the +time knew--and raged to know--that I might write with the pen of angels +or of heroes, and no Frenchman be the least the wiser! And now steps in +M. Marcel Schwob, writes me the most kind encouragement, and reads and +understands, and is kind enough to like my work. + +I am just now overloaded with work. I have two huge novels on hand--_The +Wrecker_ and the _Pearl Fisher_,[37] in collaboration with my stepson: +the latter, the _Pearl Fisher_, I think highly of, for a black, ugly, +trampling, violent story, full of strange scenes and striking +characters. And then I am about waist-deep in my big book on the South +Seas: _the_ big book on the South Seas it ought to be, and shall. And +besides, I have some verses in the press, which, however, I hesitate to +publish. For I am no judge of my own verse; self-deception is there so +facile. All this and the cares of an impending settlement in Samoa keep +me very busy, and a cold (as usual) keeps me in bed. + +Alas, I shall not have the pleasure to see you yet awhile, if ever. You +must be content to take me as a wandering voice, and in the form of +occasional letters from recondite islands; and address me, if you will +be good enough to write, to Apia, Samoa. My stepson, Mr. Osbourne, goes +home meanwhile to arrange some affairs; it is not unlikely he may go to +Paris to arrange about the illustrations to my South Seas; in which case +I shall ask him to call upon you, and give you some word of our +outlandish destinies. You will find him intelligent, I think; and I am +sure, if (_par hasard_) you should take any interest in the islands, he +will have much to tell you.--Herewith I conclude, and am your obliged +and interested correspondent, + + ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. + + +_P.S._--The story you refer to has got lost in the post. + + + + +TO ANDREW LANG + + + _Union Club, Sydney [August 1890]._ + +MY DEAR LANG,--I observed with a great deal of surprise and interest +that a controversy in which you have been taking sides at home, in +yellow London, hinges in part at least on the Gilbert Islanders and +their customs in burial. Nearly six months of my life has been passed in +the group: I have revisited it but the other day; and I make haste to +tell you what I know. The upright stones--I enclose you a photograph of +one on Apemama--are certainly connected with religion; I do not think +they are adored. They stand usually on the windward shore of the +islands, that is to say, apart from habitation (on _enclosed islands_, +where the people live on the sea side, I do not know how it is, never +having lived on one). I gathered from Tembinoka, Rex Apemamae, that the +pillars were supposed to fortify the island from invasion: spiritual +martellos. I think he indicated they were connected with the cult of +Tenti--pronounce almost as chintz in English, the _t_ being explosive; +but you must take this with a grain of salt, for I knew no word of +Gilbert Island; and the King's English, although creditable, is rather +vigorous than exact. Now, here follows the point of interest to you: +such pillars, or standing stones, have no connection with graves. The +most elaborate grave that I have ever seen in the group--to be +certain--is in the form of a _raised border_ of gravel, usually strewn +with broken glass. One, of which I cannot be sure that it was a grave, +for I was told by one that it was, and by another that it was +not--consisted of a mound about breast high in an excavated taro swamp, +on the top of which was a child's house, or rather _maniapa_--that is to +say, shed, or open house, such as is used in the group for social or +political gatherings--so small that only a child could creep under its +eaves. I have heard of another great tomb on Apemama, which I did not +see; but here again, by all accounts, no sign of a standing stone. My +report would be--no connection between standing stones and sepulture. I +shall, however, send on the terms of the problem to a highly intelligent +resident trader, who knows more than perhaps any one living, white or +native, of the Gilbert group; and you shall have the result. In Samoa, +whither I return for good, I shall myself make inquiries; up to now, I +have neither seen nor heard of any standing stones in that +group.--Yours, + + R. L. STEVENSON. + + + + +TO MISS ADELAIDE BOODLE + + + Exactly what tale of doings in the garret at Skerryvore had been + related to Stevenson (in the character of Robin Lewison) by his + correspondent (in the character of Miss Green) cannot well be + gathered from this reply. But the letter is interesting as containing + the only mention of certain schemes of romance afterwards abandoned. + + _Union Club, Sydney, 1st September 1890._ + +MY DEAR MISS BOODLE,--I find you have been behaving very ill: _been_ +very ill, in fact. I find this hard to forgive; probably should not +forgive it at all if Robin Lewison had not been sick himself and a +wretched sick-room prisoner in this club for near a month. Well, the +best and bravest sometimes fail. But who is Miss Green? Don't know her! +I knew a lady of an exceedingly generous and perfervid nature--worthy to +be suspected of Scotch blood for the pertervidness--equipped with a +couple--perhaps a brace sounds better English--of perfervid eyes--with a +certain graceful gaucherie of manner, almost like a child's, and that is +at once the highest point of gaucherie and grace--a friend everybody I +ever saw was delighted to see come and sorry to see go. Yes, I knew that +lady, and can see her now. But who was Miss Green? There is something +amiss here. Either the Robin Lewisons have been very shabbily treated, +or--and this is the serious part of the affair--somebody unknown to me +has been entrusted with the key of the Skerryvore garret. This may go as +far as the Old Bailey, ma'am. + +But why should I gird at you or anybody, when the truth is we are the +most miserable sinners in the world? For we are not coming home, I dare +not. Even coming to Sydney has made me quite ill, and back I go to +Samoa, whither please address--Apia, Samoa--(and remember it is Samo-a, +a spondee to begin with, or Sahmoa, if you prefer that writing)--back I +and my wife go to Samoa to live on our landed estate with four black +labour boys in a kind of a sort of house, which Lloyd will describe to +you. For he has gone to England: receive him like a favour and a piece +of cake; he is our greeting to friends. + +I paused here to put in the date on the first page. I am precious nearly +through my fortieth year, thinks I to myself. Must be nearly as old as +Miss Green, thinks I. O, come! I exclaimed, not as bad as that! Some +lees of youth about the old remnant yet. + +My amiable Miss Green, I beg you to give me news of your health, and if +it may be good news. And when you shall have seen Lloyd, to tell me how +his reports of the South Seas and our new circumstances strike such an +awfully old person as yourself, and to tell me if you ever received a +letter I sent you from Hawaii. I remember thinking--or remember +remembering rather--it was (for me) quite a long respectable +communication. Also, you might tell me if you got my war-whoop and +scalping-knife assault on _le nomme_ Hyde. + +I ought not to forget to say your tale fetched me (Miss Green) by its +really vile probability. If we had met that man in Honolulu he would +have done it, and Miss Green would have done it. Only, alas! there is no +completed novel lying in the garret: would there were! It should be out +to-morrow with the name to it, and relieve a kind of tightness in the +money market much deplored in our immediate circle. To be sure (now I +come to think of it) there are some seven chapters of _The Great North +Road_; three, I think, of _Robin Run the Hedge_, given up when some +nefarious person pre-empted the name; and either there--or somewhere +else--likely New York--one chapter of _David Balfour_, and five or six +of the _Memoirs of Henry Shovel_. That's all. But Lloyd and I have +one-half of The Wrecker in type, and a good part of _The Pearl Fisher_ +(O, a great and grisly tale that!) in MS. And I have a projected, +entirely planned love-story--everybody will think it dreadfully +improper, I'm afraid--called _Cannonmills_. And I've a vague, rosy haze +before me--a love-story too, but not improper--called _The Rising Sun_. +(It's the name of the wayside inn where the story, or much of the story, +runs; but it's a kind of a pun: it means the stirring up of a boy by +falling in love, and how he rises in the estimation of a girl who +despised him, though she liked him, and had befriended him; I really +scarce see beyond their childhood yet, but I want to go beyond, and make +each out-top the other by successions: it should be pretty and true if I +could do it.) Also I have my big book, _The South Seas_, always with me, +and a sair handfu'--if I may be allowed to speak Scotch to Miss Green--a +sair handfu' it is likely to be. All this literary gossip I bestow upon +you _entre confreres_, Miss Green, which is little more than fair, Miss +Green. + +Allow me to remark that it is now half-past twelve o'clock of the living +night; I should certainly be ashamed of myself, and you also; for this +is no time of the night for Miss Green to be colloguing with a +comparatively young gentleman of forty. So with all the kindest wishes +to yourself, and all at Lostock, and all friends in Hants, or over the +borders in Dorset, I bring my folly to an end. Please believe, even when +I am silent, in my real affection; I need not say the same for Fanny, +more obdurately silent, not less affectionate than I.--Your friend, + + ROBERT--ROBIN LEWISON. + + +(Nearly had it wrong--force of habit.) + + + + +TO MRS. CHARLES FAIRCHILD + + + _Union Club, Sydney [September 1890]._ + +MY DEAR MRS. FAIRCHILD,--I began a letter to you on board the _Janet +Nicoll_ on my last cruise, wrote, I believe, two sheets, and ruthlessly +destroyed the flippant trash. Your last has given me great pleasure and +some pain, for it increased the consciousness of my neglect. Now, this +must go to you, whatever it is like. + +... It is always harshness that one regrets.... I regret also my letter +to Dr. Hyde. Yes, I do; I think it was barbarously harsh; if I did it +now, I would defend Damien no less well, and give less pain to those who +are alive. These promptings of good-humour are not all sound; the three +times three, cheer boys cheer, and general amiability business rests on +a sneaking love of popularity, the most insidious enemy of virtue. On +the whole, it was virtuous to defend Damien; but it was harsh to strike +so hard at Dr. Hyde. When I wrote the letter, I believed he would bring +an action, in which case I knew I could be beggared. And as yet there +has come no action; the injured Doctor has contented himself up to now +with the (truly innocuous) vengeance of calling me a "Bohemian Crank," +and I have deeply wounded one of his colleagues whom I esteemed and +liked. + +Well, such is life. You are quite right; our civilisation is a hollow +fraud, all the fun of life is lost by it; all it gains is that a larger +number of persons can continue to be contemporaneously unhappy on the +surface of the globe. O, unhappy!--there is a big word and a +false--continue to be not nearly--by about twenty per cent.--so happy as +they might be: that would be nearer the mark. + +When--observe that word, which I will write again and larger--WHEN you +come to see us in Samoa, you will see for yourself a healthy and happy +people. + +You see, you are one of the very few of our friends rich enough to come +and see us; and when my house is built, and the road is made, and we +have enough fruit planted and poultry and pigs raised, it is undeniable +that you must come--must is the word; that is the way in which I speak +to ladies. You and Fairchild, anyway--perhaps my friend Blair--we'll +arrange details in good time. It will be the salvation of your souls, +and make you willing to die. + +Let me tell you this: In '74 or 5 there came to stay with my father and +mother a certain Mr. Seed, a prime minister or something of New Zealand. +He spotted what my complaint was; told me that I had no business to stay +in Europe; that I should find all I cared for, and all that was good for +me, in the Navigator Islands; sat up till four in the morning persuading +me, demolishing my scruples. And I resisted: I refused to go so far from +my father and mother. O, it was virtuous, and O, wasn't it silly! But my +father, who was always my dearest, got to his grave without that pang; +and now in 1890, I (or what is left of me) go at last to the Navigator +Islands. God go with us! It is but a Pisgah sight when all is said; I go +there only to grow old and die; but when you come, you will see it is a +fair place for the purpose. + +Flaubert[38] has not turned up; I hope he will soon; I knew of him only +through Maxime Descamps.--With kindest messages to yourself and all of +yours, I remain + + ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. + + +FOOTNOTES: + + [27] King Kalakaua. + + [28] This is the Canadian poet Archibald Lampman (d. 1899). + + [29] Stevenson's stepdaughter, Mrs. Strong, who was at this time + living at Honolulu, and joined his party and family for good after + they arrived at Sydney in the following autumn. + + [30] R. A. M. Stevenson was at this time professor of Fine Art in the + University of Liverpool. + + [31] The Hawaiian name for white men. + + [32] The writer has omitted something here. + + [33] Table of chapter headings follows. + + [34] French _batons rompus_: disconnected thoughts or studies. + + [35] The Rev. Dr. Hyde, of Honolulu: in reference to Stevenson's + letter on Father Damien. + + [36] By Emile Zola. + + [37] Afterwards re-named _The Ebb-Tide_. + + [38] His _Letters_. + + + + +END OF VOL. XXIV + + +PRINTED BY CASSELL & COMPANY, LIMITED, LA BELLE SAUVAGE, LONDON, E.C. + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Works of Robert Louis Stevenson - +Swanston Edition Vol. 24 (of 25), by Robert Louis Stevenson + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WORKS OF STEVENSON *** + +***** This file should be named 31809.txt or 31809.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/1/8/0/31809/ + +Produced by Marius Masi, Jonathan Ingram and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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