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diff --git a/old/rlsl210.txt b/old/rlsl210.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..ef3514e --- /dev/null +++ b/old/rlsl210.txt @@ -0,0 +1,13022 @@ +The Project Gutenberg Etext of Letters of Robert Louis Stevenson +Volume 2 +#31 in our series by Robert Louis Stevenson + + +Copyright laws are changing all over the world, be sure to check +the copyright laws for your country before posting these files!! + +Please take a look at the important information in this header. +We encourage you to keep this file on your own disk, keeping an +electronic path open for the next readers. Do not remove this. + + +**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** + +**Etexts Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** + +*These Etexts Prepared By Hundreds of Volunteers and Donations* + +Information on contacting Project Gutenberg to get Etexts, and +further information is included below. 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If you + don't derive profits, no royalty is due. Royalties are + payable to "Project Gutenberg Association / Benedictine + University" within the 60 days following each + date you prepare (or were legally required to prepare) + your annual (or equivalent periodic) tax return. + +WHAT IF YOU *WANT* TO SEND MONEY EVEN IF YOU DON'T HAVE TO? +The Project gratefully accepts contributions in money, time, +scanning machines, OCR software, public domain etexts, royalty +free copyright licenses, and every other sort of contribution +you can think of. Money should be paid to "Project Gutenberg +Association / Benedictine University". + +*END*THE SMALL PRINT! FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN ETEXTS*Ver.04.29.93*END* + + + + + +The Letters of Robert Louis Stevenson, Volume II +Scanned and proofed by David Price +ccx074@coventry.ac.uk + + + + + +The Letters of Robert Louis Stevenson, Volume II + + + + +CHAPTER VIII - LIFE AT BOURNEMOUTH, CONTINUED, JANUARY 1886-JULY 1887 + + + + + +Letter: TO MRS. DE MATTOS + + + +[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. + + + +Letter: TO ALISON CUNNINGHAM + + + +[SKERRYVORE, BOURNEMOUTH], 1ST, 1886. + +MY DEAR KINNICUM, - 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. + + + +Letter: 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... + + + +Letter: TO W. H. LOW + + + +[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 prisonyard 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! +qy. omit? [Life is gone, but life was gay: +We have come the primrose way!] + +R. L. S. + + + +Letter: 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 +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. + + + +Letter: TO JAMES PAYN + + + +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. + + + +Letter: TO W. H. LOW + + + +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. + + + +Letter: TO THOMAS STEVENSON + + + +[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. + + + +Letter: 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 overdue +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. + + + +Letter: 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 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, protaplasmic 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 modem +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 + + + +Letter: TO W. H. LOW + + + +[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 haemorrhage 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. + + + +Letter: TO MRS. FLEEMING JENKIN + + + +[SKERRYVORE, BOURNEMOUTH, APRIL 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 is strange, it don't come off +QUITE so well with me! + +[Musical score which cannot be reproduced] + +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):- + +[Musical score which cannot be reproduced] + +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. + + + +Letter: TO THOMAS STEVENSON + + + +[SKERRYVORE, BOURNEMOUTH, March 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. + + + +Letter: TO MRS. FLEEMING JENKIN + + + +[SKERRYVORE, BOURNEMOUTH], APRIL 15 OR 16 (THE HOUR NOT BEING +KNOWN), 1886. + +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 DULY: 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. " growing wrong. +3. " 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. + + + +Letter: TO MRS. FLEEMING JENKIN + + + +[SKERRYVORE, BOURNEMOUTH, APRIL 1886.] + +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. + + + +Letter: TO MISS RAWLINSON + + + +[SKERRYVORE, BOURNEMOUTH, APRIL 1886.] + +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. + + + +Letter: TO MISS MONROE + + + +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. + + + +Letter: 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 displeased 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. + + + +Letter: TO R. A. M. STEVENSON + + + +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, 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 spumfed 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 authour of ane Threnodie). + +Op. 2: Scherzo (in G Major) expressive of the Sense of favours to +come. + + + +Letter: 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 base, 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 base 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. + + + +Letter: TO MR. AND MRS. THOMAS STEVENSON + + + +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. + + + +Letter: 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. + + + +Letter: TO THOMAS STEVENSON + + + +[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. + + + +Letter: TO MRS. THOMAS STEVENSON + + + +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. + + + +Letter: TO T. WATTS-DUNTON + + + +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. + + + +Letter: TO FREDERICK LOCKER-LAMPSON + + + +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. + + + +Letter: TO FREDERICK LOCKER-LAMPSON + + + +[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 unaccented; 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. + + + +Letter: TO FREDERICK LOCKER-LAMPSON + + + +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 outpouring 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. + + + +Letter: 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. + + + +Letter: TO SIDNEY COLVIN + + + +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. + + + +Letter: TO FREDERICK LOCKER-LAMPSON + + + +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. + + + +Letter: TO HENRY JAMES + + + +[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. + + + +Letter: TO W. H. LOW + + + +(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. + +50x2=100 + +The expense of spirit or spontaneous lapse of coin on the journey, +at 5 frcs. a head, 5x2=10 + +Victuals on ditto, at 5 frcs. a head, 5x2 = 10 + +Gratuity to stewardess, in case of severe prostration, at 3 francs + +One night in London, on a modest footing, say 20 + +Two tickets to Bournemouth at 12.50, 12.50x2=25 + +Porters and general devilment, say 5 + +Cabs in London, say 2 shillings, and in Bournemouth, 3 shillings=5 +shillings, 6 frcs. 25 + +Total frcs. 179.25 + +Or, the same in pounds, 7 pounds, 3s. 6 and a half d. + + 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. + + + +Letter: 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. + + + +Letter: TO SIDNEY COLVIN + + + + [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. + + + + +CHAPTER IX - THE UNITED STATES AGAIN: WINTER IN THE ADIRONDACKS, +AUGUST 1887-OCTOBER 1888 + + + + +Letter: TO W. E. HENLEY + + + +[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 byegone +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? + + + +Letter: 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 SS. 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 VILLA, 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. + + + +Letter: TO MISS ADELAIDE BOODLE + + + +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. + + + +Letter: TO MESSRS. CHATTO AND WINDUS + + + +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. + + + +Letter: TO SIDNEY COLVIN + + + +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. + + + +Letter: 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 quartermasters, 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. + + + +Letter: 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 lose 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, + +R. L S. + + + +Letter: 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 fairy-land +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 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 500 pounds a year for twelve articles in SCRIBNER'S +MAGAZINE on what I like; it is more than 500 pounds, but I cannot +calculate more precisely. You have no idea how much is made of me +here; I was offered 2000 pounds 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. + + + +Letter: TO W. E. HENLEY + + + +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, 600 pounds a year, 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). + + + +Letter: 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 700 pounds a year is as +much as anybody 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. + + + +Letter: TO EDMUND GOSSE + + + +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 +impossible. + +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. + + + +Letter: TO W. H. LOW + + + +[SARANAC, 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). 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. + + + +Letter: TO WILLIAM ARCHER. + + + +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. + + + +Letter: TO HENRY JAMES + + + +[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. + + + +Letter: TO CHARLES BAXTER + + + +SARANAC, 18TH NOVEMBER 1887. + +MY DEAR CHARLES, - No likely I'm going to waste a sheet of paper. . +. . I am offered 1600 pounds ($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. + + + +Letter: TO CHARLES SCRIBNER + + + +[SARANAC, 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. + + + +Letter: TO E. L. BURLINGAME + + + +SARANAC, 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. + + + +Letter: TO E. L. BURLINGAME + + + +SARANAC, 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. + + + +Letter: TO J. A. 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. + + + +Letter: TO W. E. HENLEY + + + +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 worse 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. + + + +Letter: 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. + + + +Letter: TO MISS ADELAIDE BOODLE + + + +[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 hilltop +hatbox 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 scarp 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 remembrance to Mrs. Boodle and your +sisters, very sincerely yours, + +ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON + + + +Letter: TO CHARLES BAXTER + + + +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 20 pounds 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 20 pounds. + +I beg of you also to consider my strange position. I jined a club +which it was said was to defend the Union; and 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? + + + +Letter: TO MISS MONROE + + + +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. + + + +Letter: TO HENRY JAMES + + + +SARANAC LAKE, WINTER 1887-8. + +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. + + + +Letter: 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'; 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 + + + +Letter: TO SIDNEY COLVIN + + + +[SARANAC, 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, 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. + + + +Letter: TO MISS ADELAIDE BOODLE + + + +SARANAC LAKE, ADIRONDACKS, N.Y., U.S.A., 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 Ballan-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. + + + +Letter: TO CHARLES BAXTER + + + +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 hands 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.!!! + + + +Letter: TO E. L. BURLINGAME + + + +SARANAC, WINTER 1887-8. + +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. + + + +Letter: TO WILLIAM ARCHER + + + +[SARANAC, WINTER 1887-8.] + +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. + + + +Letter: TO WILLIAM ARCHER + + + +SARANAC, 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. + + + +Letter: TO WILLIAM ARCHER + + + +[SARANAC, SPRING 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. + + + +Letter: TO E. L. BURLINGAME + + + +SARANAC [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. + + + +Letter: TO E. L. BURLINGAME + + + +[SARANAC, 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. + + + +Letter: TO SIDNEY COLVIN + + + +[SARANAC, 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 +degrees, 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 degrees: 60 degrees we find oppressive. +Yet the natives keep their holes at 90 degrees or even 100 degrees. + +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. + + + +Letter: TO THE REV. DR. CHARTERIS + + + +[SARANAC LAKE, WINTER 1887-1888.] + +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. + + + +Letter: 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. 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. 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. + + + +Letter: 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. + + + +Letter: 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 so young 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. + + + +Letter: 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 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. + + + +Letter: TO SIDNEY COLVIN + + + +[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. + + + +Letter: 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. + + + +Letter: 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, 2000 +pounds 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. + + + +Letter: To HOMER ST. GAUDENS + + + +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. + + + +Letter: 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. + + + + +CHAPTER X - PACIFIC VOYAGES, JUNE 1888-NOVEMBER 1890 + + + + +TO SIDNEY COLVIN + + + +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. + + + +Letter: 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. + + + +Letter: TO SIDNEY COLVIN + + + +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 Bondelais straits to Taaka-uku 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. + +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. + + + +Letter: 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 athegither. 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. + + + +Letter: TO MISS ADELAIDE BOODLE + + + +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 righthand 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. + + + +Letter: TO SIDNEY COLVIN + + + +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, Reiatea, 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. + + + +Letter: TO WILLIAM AND THOMAS ARCHER + + + +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. + + + +Letter: 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 +dibs 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. + + + +Letter: 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. + + + +Letter: TO J. A. SYMONDS + + + +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 TAHITI. + + + +Letter: TO THOMAS ARCHER + + + +TAUTIRA, ISLAND OF TAHITI [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, TERIITEPA, which he was +previously known as + +ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. + + + +Letter: 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 degrees north or at the best 4 +degrees 30 minutes, 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. + + + +Letter: 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 +balk; 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. (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. +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. + + + +Letter: 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. + + + +Letter: 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 haemorrhage 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 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; 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. + + + +Letter: TO MARCEL SCHWOB + + + +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. + + + +Letter: 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, 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. + + + +Letter: 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. + + + +Letter: 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 tiring 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. + + + +Letter: 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 it 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. + + + +Letter: 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 merry-makers 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 inkbottle, +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 +lamplight 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. + + + +Letter: 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 Taheite 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. + + + +Letter: TO CHARLES BAXTER + + + +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. 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. + + + +Letter: TO W. H. LOW + + + +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. + + + +Letter: TO MRS. R. L. STEVENSON + + + +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 degrees (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 degrees in the shade, +strong, sweet Anaho trade-wind. + +LOUIS. + + + +Letter: 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 degrees 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 flew never with so much difficulty +as towards Catholic virtues. The pass-book 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 folk's 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 and Co., Sydney. That is final: I only got the arrangement +made yesterday; but you may now publish it abroad. - Yours ever, + +R. L. S. + + + +Letter: TO JAMES PAYN + + + +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, of 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. + + + +Letter: TO SIDNEY COLVIN + + + +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 awhile 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 + } Lloyd O. +3. THE BEACHCOMBERS } + +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 outskirts 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. + + + +Letter: TO SIDNEY COLVIN + + + +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 staysail; 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 degrees, 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. Toahauka 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 black-birds 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 consentaneous 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. + + + +Letter: 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. ... + +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 largish +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. + + + +Letter: TO CHARLES BAXTER + + + +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 our 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 expressions.' Henry goes up along with us; and as I am +not fond of him, he may before the trip is over hear some 'strong +expressions.' 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. + + + +Letter: TO DR. SCOTT + + + +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. + + + +Letter: TO CHARLES BAXTER + + + +FEBRUAR DEN 3EN 1890. +DAMPFER LUBECK 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 and a half 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. + + + +Letter: TO E. L. BURLINGAME + + + +SS. LUBECK, [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 and 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 not touched. 2. THE PEARL FISHER (a +novel promised 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 ready. 3. THE WAR VOLUME. + +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 engagement. 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, Tenbaitake, Tembinatake, +and other barbarous names, because I thought the dentists in the +States had work enough without my assistance; but my chiefs 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. + + + +Letter: TO JAMES PAYN + + + +FEBRUARY 4TH, 1890, SS. 'LUBECK.' + +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. Sometime 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. + + + +Letter: TO CHARLES BAXTER + + + +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. + + + +Letter: TO SIDNEY COLVIN + + + +SS. '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. + + + +Letter: TO E. L. BURLINGAME + + + +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 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 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 logger-heads 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. + + + +Letter: TO CHARLES BAXTER + + + +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'EDINBOURG +- 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. + + + +Letter: TO E. L. BURLINGAME + + + +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. + + + +Letter: TO HENRY JAMES + + + +UNION CLUB, SYDNEY, AUGUST 1890. + +MY DEAR HENRY JAMES, - Kipling is too clever to live. The BETE +HUMAINE I had already perused in Noumea, listening the while to the +strains of the convict band. He 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 degrees 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. + + + +Letter: 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, +breach 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, 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. + + + +Letter: 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. + + + +Letter: 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. + +. . . 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 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. + + + + +CHAPTER XI - LIFE IN SAMOA, NOVEMBER 1890-DECEMBER 1892 + + + + +Letter: TO E. L BURLINGAME + + + +VAILIMA, APIA, SAMOA, NOV. 7, 1890. + +I WISH you to add to the words at the end of the prologue; they +run, I think, thus, 'And this is the yarn of Loudon Dodd'; add, +'not as he told, but as he wrote it afterwards for his diversion.' +This becomes the more needful, because, when all is done, I shall +probably revert to Tai-o-hae, and give final details about the +characters in the way of a conversation between Dodd and Havers. +These little snippets of information and FAITS-DIVERS have always a +disjointed, broken-backed appearance; yet, readers like them. In +this book we have introduced so many characters, that this kind of +epilogue will be looked for; and I rather hope, looking far ahead, +that I can lighten it in dialogue. + +We are well past the middle now. How does it strike you? and can +you guess my mystery? It will make a fattish volume! + +I say, have you ever read the HIGHLAND WIDOW? I never had till +yesterday: I am half inclined, bar a trip or two, to think it +Scott's masterpiece; and it has the name of a failure! Strange +things are readers. + +I expect proofs and revises in duplicate. + +We have now got into a small barrack at our place. We see the sea +six hundred feet below filling the end of two vales of forest. On +one hand the mountain runs above us some thousand feet higher; +great trees stand round us in our clearing; there is an endless +voice of birds; I have never lived in such a heaven; just now, I +have fever, which mitigates but not destroys my gusto in my +circumstances. - You may envy + +ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. + +. . . O, I don't know if I mentioned that having seen your new tail +to the magazine, I cried off interference, at least for this trip. +Did I ask you to send me my books and papers, and all the bound +volumes of the mag.? QUORUM PARS. I might add that were there a +good book or so - new - I don't believe there is - such would be +welcome. + +I desire - I positively begin to awake - to be remembered to +Scribner, Low, St. Gaudens, Russell Sullivan. Well, well, you +fellows have the feast of reason and the flow of soul; I have a +better-looking place and climate: you should hear the birds on the +hill now! The day has just wound up with a shower; it is still +light without, though I write within here at the cheek of a lamp; +my wife and an invaluable German are wrestling about bread on the +back verandah; and how the birds and the frogs are rattling, and +piping, and hailing from the woods! Here and there a throaty +chuckle; here and there, cries like those of jolly children who +have lost their way; here and there, the ringing sleigh-bell of the +tree frog. Out and away down below me on the sea it is still +raining; it will be wet under foot on schooners, and the house will +leak; how well I know that! Here the showers only patter on the +iron roof, and sometimes roar; and within, the lamp burns steady on +the tafa-covered walls, with their dusky tartan patterns, and the +book-shelves with their thin array of books; and no squall can rout +my house or bring my heart into my mouth. - The well-pleased South +Sea Islander, + +R. L. S. + + + +Letter: TO E. L. BURLINGAME + + + +[VAILIMA, DECEMBER 1890.] + +MY DEAR BURLINGAME, - By some diabolical accident, I have mislaid +your last. What was in it? I know not, and here I am caught +unexpectedly by the American mail, a week earlier than by +computation. The computation, not the mail, is supposed to be in +error. The vols. of SCRIBNER'S have arrived, and present a noble +appearance in my house, which is not a noble structure at present. +But by autumn we hope to be sprawling in our verandah, twelve feet, +sir, by eighty-eight in front, and seventy-two on the flank; view +of the sea and mountains, sunrise, moonrise, and the German fleet +at anchor three miles away in Apia harbour. I hope some day to +offer you a bowl of kava there, or a slice of a pineapple, or some +lemonade from my own hedge. 'I know a hedge where the lemons grow' +- SHAKESPEARE. My house at this moment smells of them strong; and +the rain, which a while ago roared there, now rings in minute drops +upon the iron roof. I have no WRECKER for you this mail, other +things having engaged me. I was on the whole rather relieved you +did not vote for regular papers, as I feared the traces. It is my +design from time to time to write a paper of a reminiscential +(beastly word) description; some of them I could scarce publish +from different considerations; but some of them - for instance, my +long experience of gambling places - Homburg, Wiesbaden, Baden- +Baden, old Monaco, and new Monte Carlo - would make good magazine +padding, if I got the stuff handled the right way. I never could +fathom why verse was put in magazines; it has something to do with +the making-up, has it not? I am scribbling a lot just now; if you +are taken badly that way, apply to the South Seas. I could send +you some, I believe, anyway, only none of it is thoroughly ripe. +If kept back the volume of ballads, I'll soon make it a respectable +size if this fit continue. By the next mail you may expect some +more WRECKER, or I shall be displeased. Probably no more than a +chapter, however, for it is a hard one, and I am denuded of my +proofs, my collaborator having walked away with them to England; +hence some trouble in catching the just note. + +I am a mere farmer: my talk, which would scarce interest you on +Broadway, is all of fuafua and tuitui, and black boys, and planting +and weeding, and axes and cutlasses; my hands are covered with +blisters and full of thorns; letters are, doubtless, a fine thing, +so are beer and skittles, but give me farmering in the tropics for +real interest. Life goes in enchantment; I come home to find I am +late for dinner; and when I go to bed at night, I could cry for the +weariness of my loins and thighs. Do not speak to me of vexation, +the life brims with it, but with living interest fairly. + +Christmas I go to Auckland, to meet Tamate, the New Guinea +missionary, a man I love. The rest of my life is a prospect of +much rain, much weeding and making of paths, a little letters, and +devilish little to eat. - I am, my dear Burlingame, with messages +to all whom it may concern, very sincerely yours, + +ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. + + + +Letter: TO HENRY JAMES + + + +VAILIMA, APIA, SAMOA, DECEMBER 29TH, 1890. + +MY DEAR HENRY JAMES, - It is terrible how little everybody writes, +and how much of that little disappears in the capacious maw of the +Post Office. Many letters, both from and to me, I now know to have +been lost in transit: my eye is on the Sydney Post Office, a large +ungainly structure with a tower, as being not a hundred miles from +the scene of disappearance; but then I have no proof. THE TRAGIC +MUSE you announced to me as coming; I had already ordered it from a +Sydney bookseller: about two months ago he advised me that his +copy was in the post; and I am still tragically museless. + +News, news, news. What do we know of yours? What do you care for +ours? We are in the midst of the rainy season, and dwell among +alarms of hurricanes, in a very unsafe little two-storied wooden +box 650 feet above and about three miles from the sea-beach. +Behind us, till the other slope of the island, desert forest, +peaks, and loud torrents; in front green slopes to the sea, some +fifty miles of which we dominate. We see the ships as they go out +and in to the dangerous roadstead of Apia; and if they lie far out, +we can even see their topmasts while they are at anchor. Of sounds +of men, beyond those of our own labourers, there reach us, at very +long intervals, salutes from the warships in harbour, the bell of +the cathedral church, and the low of the conch-shell calling the +labour boys on the German plantations. Yesterday, which was Sunday +- the QUANTIEME is most likely erroneous; you can now correct it - +we had a visitor - Baker of Tonga. Heard you ever of him? He is a +great man here: he is accused of theft, rape, judicial murder, +private poisoning, abortion, misappropriation of public moneys - +oddly enough, not forgery, nor arson: you would be amused if you +knew how thick the accusations fly in this South Sea world. I make +no doubt my own character is something illustrious; or if not yet, +there is a good time coming. + +But all our resources have not of late been Pacific. We have had +enlightened society: La Farge the painter, and your friend Henry +Adams: a great privilege - would it might endure. I would go +oftener to see them, but the place is awkward to reach on +horseback. I had to swim my horse the last time I went to dinner; +and as I have not yet returned the clothes I had to borrow, I dare +not return in the same plight: it seems inevitable - as soon as +the wash comes in, I plump straight into the American consul's +shirt or trousers! They, I believe, would come oftener to see me +but for the horrid doubt that weighs upon our commissariat +department; we have OFTEN almost nothing to eat; a guest would +simply break the bank; my wife and I have dined on one avocado +pear; I have several times dined on hard bread and onions. What +would you do with a guest at such narrow seasons? - eat him? or +serve up a labour boy fricasseed? + +Work? work is now arrested, but I have written, I should think, +about thirty chapters of the South Sea book; they will all want +rehandling, I dare say. Gracious, what a strain is a long book! +The time it took me to design this volume, before I could dream of +putting pen to paper, was excessive; and then think of writing a +book of travels on the spot, when I am continually extending my +information, revising my opinions, and seeing the most finely +finished portions of my work come part by part in pieces. Very +soon I shall have no opinions left. And without an opinion, how to +string artistically vast accumulations of fact? Darwin said no one +could observe without a theory; I suppose he was right; 'tis a fine +point of metaphysic; but I will take my oath, no man can write +without one - at least the way he would like to, and my theories +melt, melt, melt, and as they melt the thaw-waters wash down my +writing, and leave unideal tracts - wastes instead of cultivated +farms. + +Kipling is by far the most promising young man who has appeared +since - ahem - I appeared. He amazes me by his precocity and +various endowment. But he alarms me by his copiousness and haste. +He should shield his fire with both hands 'and draw up all his +strength and sweetness in one ball.' ('Draw all his strength and +all His sweetness up into one ball'? I cannot remember Marvell's +words.) So the critics have been saying to me; but I was never +capable of - and surely never guilty of - such a debauch of +production. At this rate his works will soon fill the habitable +globe; and surely he was armed for better conflicts than these +succinct sketches and flying leaves of verse? I look on, I admire, +I rejoice for myself; but in a kind of ambition we all have for our +tongue and literature I am wounded. If I had this man's fertility +and courage, it seems to me I could heave a pyramid. + +Well, we begin to be the old fogies now; and it was high time +SOMETHING rose to take our places. Certainly Kipling has the +gifts; the fairy godmothers were all tipsy at his christening: +what will he do with them? + +Goodbye, my dear James; find an hour to write to us, and register +your letter. - Yours affectionately, + +R. L. S. + + + +Letter: TO RUDYARD KIPLING + + + +[VAILIMA, 1891.] + +SIR, - I cannot call to mind having written you, but I am so throng +with occupation this may have fallen aside. I never heard tell I +had any friends in Ireland, and I am led to understand you are come +of no considerable family. The gentleman I now serve with assures +me, however, you are a very pretty fellow and your letter deserves +to be remarked. It's true he is himself a man of a very low +descent upon the one side; though upon the other he counts +cousinship with a gentleman, my very good friend, the late Mr. +Balfour of the Shaws, in the Lothian; which I should be wanting in +good fellowship to forget. He tells me besides you are a man of +your hands; I am not informed of your weapon; but if all be true it +sticks in my mind I would be ready to make exception in your +favour, and meet you like one gentleman with another. I suppose +this'll be your purpose in your favour, which I could very ill make +out; it's one I would be sweir to baulk you of. It seems, Mr. +McIlvaine, which I take to be your name, you are in the household +of a gentleman of the name of Coupling: for whom my friend is very +much engaged. The distances being very uncommodious, I think it +will be maybe better if we leave it to these two to settle all +that's necessary to honour. I would have you to take heed it's a +very unusual condescension on my part, that bear a King's name; and +for the matter of that I think shame to be mingled with a person of +the name of Coupling, which is doubtless a very good house but one +I never heard tell of, any more than Stevenson. But your purpose +being laudable, I would be sorry (as the word goes) to cut off my +nose to spite my face. - I am, Sir, your humble servant, + +A. STEWART, +CHEVALIER DE ST. LOUIS. + +TO MR. M'ILVAINE, +GENTLEMAN PRIVATE IN A FOOT REGIMENT, +UNDER COVER TO MR. COUPLING. + +He has read me some of your Barrack Room Ballants, which are not of +so noble a strain as some of mine in the Gaelic, but I could set +some of them to the pipes if this rencounter goes as it's to be +desired. Let's first, as I understand you to move, do each other +this rational courtesys; and if either will survive, we may grow +better acquaint. For your tastes for what's martial and for poetry +agree with mine. + +A. S. + + + +Letter: TO MARCEL SCHWOB + + + +SYDNEY, JANUARY 19th, 1891. + +MY DEAR SIR, - SAPRISTI, COMME VOUS Y ALLEZ! Richard III. and +Dumas, with all my heart; but not Hamlet. Hamlet is great +literature; Richard III. a big, black, gross, sprawling melodrama, +writ with infinite spirit but with no refinement or philosophy by a +man who had the world, himself, mankind, and his trade still to +learn. I prefer the Vicomte de Bragelonne to Richard III.; it is +better done of its kind: I simply do not mention the Vicomte in +the same part of the building with Hamlet, or Lear, or Othello, or +any of those masterpieces that Shakespeare survived to give us. + +Also, COMME VOUS Y ALLEZ in my commendation! I fear my SOLIDE +EDUCATION CLASSIQUE had best be described, like Shakespeare's, as +'little Latin and no Greek,' and I was educated, let me inform you, +for an engineer. I shall tell my bookseller to send you a copy of +MEMORIES AND PORTRAITS, where you will see something of my descent +and education, as it was, and hear me at length on my dear Vicomte. +I give you permission gladly to take your choice out of my works, +and translate what you shall prefer, too much honoured that so +clever a young man should think it worth the pains. My own choice +would lie between KIDNAPPED and the MASTER OF BALLANTRAE. Should +you choose the latter, pray do not let Mrs. Henry thrust the sword +up to the hilt in the frozen ground - one of my inconceivable +blunders, an exaggeration to stagger Hugo. Say 'she sought to +thrust it in the ground.' In both these works you should be +prepared for Scotticisms used deliberately. + +I fear my stepson will not have found time to get to Paris; he was +overwhelmed with occupation, and is already on his voyage back. We +live here in a beautiful land, amid a beautiful and interesting +people. The life is still very hard: my wife and I live in a two- +roomed cottage, about three miles and six hundred and fifty feet +above the sea; we have had to make the road to it; our supplies are +very imperfect; in the wild weather of this (the hurricane) season +we have much discomfort: one night the wind blew in our house so +outrageously that we must sit in the dark; and as the sound of the +rain on the roof made speech inaudible, you may imagine we found +the evening long. All these things, however, are pleasant to me. +You say L'ARTISTE INCONSCIENT set off to travel: you do not divide +me right. 0.6 of me is artist; 0.4, adventurer. First, I suppose, +come letters; then adventure; and since I have indulged the second +part, I think the formula begins to change: 0.55 of an artist, +0.45 of the adventurer were nearer true. And if it had not been +for my small strength, I might have been a different man in all +things, + +Whatever you do, do not neglect to send me what you publish on +Villon: I look forward to that with lively interest. I have no +photograph at hand, but I will send one when I can. It would be +kind if you would do the like, for I do not see much chance of our +meeting in the flesh: and a name, and a handwriting, and an +address, and even a style? I know about as much of Tacitus, and +more of Horace; it is not enough between contemporaries, such as we +still are. I have just remembered another of my books, which I re- +read the other day, and thought in places good - PRINCE OTTO. It +is not as good as either of the others; but it has one +recommendation - it has female parts, so it might perhaps please +better in France. + +I will ask Chatto to send you, then - PRINCE OTTO, MEMORIES AND +PORTRAITS, UNDERWOODS, and BALLADS, none of which you seem to have +seen. They will be too late for the New Year: let them be an +Easter present. + +You must translate me soon; you will soon have better to do than to +transverse the work of others. - Yours very truly, + +ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON, + +With the worst pen in the South Pacific. + + + +Letter: TO CHARLES BAXTER + + + +SS. 'LUBECK,' AT SEA [ON THE RETURN VOYAGE FROM SYDNEY, MARCH +1891]. + +MY DEAR CHARLES, - Perhaps in my old days I do grow irascible; 'the +old man virulent' has long been my pet name for myself. Well, the +temper is at least all gone now; time is good at lowering these +distemperatures; far better is a sharp sickness, and I am just (and +scarce) afoot again after a smoking hot little malady at Sydney. +And the temper being gone, I still think the same. . . . We have +not our parents for ever; we are never very good to them; when they +go and we have lost our front-file man, we begin to feel all our +neglects mighty sensibly. I propose a proposal. My mother is here +on board with me; to-day for once I mean to make her as happy as I +am able, and to do that which I know she likes. You, on the other +hand, go and see your father, and do ditto, and give him a real +good hour or two. We shall both be glad hereafter. - Yours ever, + +R. L. S. + + + +Letter: TO H. B. BAILDON + + + +VAILIMA, UPOLU [UNDATED, BUT WRITTEN IN 1891]. + +MY DEAR BAILDON, - This is a real disappointment. It was so long +since we had met, I was anxious to see where time had carried and +stranded us. Last time we saw each other - it must have been all +ten years ago, as we were new to the thirties - it was only for a +moment, and now we're in the forties, and before very long we shall +be in our graves. Sick and well, I have had a splendid life of it, +grudge nothing, regret very little - and then only some little +corners of misconduct for which I deserve hanging, and must +infallibly be damned - and, take it all over, damnation and all, +would hardly change with any man of my time, unless perhaps it were +Gordon or our friend Chalmers: a man I admire for his virtues, +love for his faults, and envy for the really A1 life he has, with +everything heart - my heart, I mean - could wish. It is curious to +think you will read this in the grey metropolis; go the first grey, +east-windy day into the Caledonian Station, if it looks at all as +it did of yore: I met Satan there. And then go and stand by the +cross, and remember the other one - him that went down - my +brother, Robert Fergusson. It is a pity you had not made me out, +and seen me as patriarch and planter. I shall look forward to some +record of your time with Chalmers: you can't weary me of that +fellow, he is as big as a house and far bigger than any church, +where no man warms his hands. Do you know anything of Thomson? Of +A-, B-, C-, D-, E-, F-, at all? As I write C.'s name mustard rises +my nose; I have never forgiven that weak, amiable boy a little +trick he played me when I could ill afford it: I mean that +whenever I think of it, some of the old wrath kindles, not that I +would hurt the poor soul, if I got the world with it. And Old X-? +Is he still afloat? Harmless bark! I gather you ain't married +yet, since your sister, to whom I ask to be remembered, goes with +you. Did you see a silly tale, JOHN NICHOLSON'S PREDICAMENT, or +some such name, in which I made free with your home at Murrayfield? +There is precious little sense in it, but it might amuse. +Cassell's published it in a thing called YULE-TIDE years ago, and +nobody that ever I heard of read or has ever seen YULE-TIDE. It is +addressed to a class we never met - readers of Cassell's series and +that class of conscientious chaff, and my tale was dull, though I +don't recall that it was conscientious. Only, there's the house at +Murrayfield and a dead body in it. Glad the BALLADS amused you. +They failed to entertain a coy public, at which I wondered, not +that I set much account by my verses, which are the verses of +Prosator; but I do know how to tell a yarn, and two of the yarns +are great. RAHERO is for its length a perfect folk-tale: savage +and yet fine, full of tailforemost morality, ancient as the granite +rocks; if the historian, not to say the politician, could get that +yarn into his head, he would have learned some of his A B C. But +the average man at home cannot understand antiquity; he is sunk +over the ears in Roman civilisation; and a tale like that of RAHERO +falls on his ears inarticulate. The SPECTATOR said there was no +psychology in it; that interested me much: my grandmother (as I +used to call that able paper, and an able paper it is, and a fair +one) cannot so much as observe the existence of savage psychology +when it is put before it. I am at bottom a psychologist and +ashamed of it; the tale seized me one-third because of its +picturesque features, two-thirds because of its astonishing +psychology, and the SPECTATOR says there's none. I am going on +with a lot of island work, exulting in the knowledge of a new +world, 'a new created world' and new men; and I am sure my income +will DECLINE and FALL off; for the effort of comprehension is death +to the intelligent public, and sickness to the dull. + +I do not know why I pester you with all this trash, above all as +you deserve nothing. I give you my warm TALOFA ('my love to you,' +Samoan salutation). Write me again when the spirit moves you. And +some day, if I still live, make out the trip again and let us hob- +a-nob with our grey pows on my verandah. - Yours sincerely, + +ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. + + + +Letter: TO W. CRAIBE ANGUS + + + +VAILIMA, SAMOA, APRIL 1891. + +DEAR MR. ANGUS, - Surely I remember you! It was W. C. Murray who +made us acquainted, and we had a pleasant crack. I see your poet +is not yet dead. I remember even our talk - or you would not think +of trusting that invaluable JOLLY BEGGARS to the treacherous posts, +and the perils of the sea, and the carelessness of authors. I love +the idea, but I could not bear the risk. However - + + +'Hale be your heart, hale be your fiddle - ' + + + it was kindly thought upon. + +My interest in Burns is, as you suppose, perennial. I would I +could be present at the exhibition, with the purpose of which I +heartily sympathise; but the NANCY has not waited in vain for me, I +have followed my chest, the anchor is weighed long ago, I have said +my last farewell to the hills and the heather and the lynns: like +Leyden, I have gone into far lands to die, not stayed like Burns to +mingle in the end with Scottish soil. I shall not even return like +Scott for the last scene. Burns Exhibitions are all over. 'Tis a +far cry to Lochow from tropical Vailima. + + +'But still our hearts are true, our hearts are Highland, +And we in dreams behold the Hebrides.' + + +When your hand is in, will you remember our poor Edinburgh Robin? +Burns alone has been just to his promise; follow Burns, he knew +best, he knew whence he drew fire - from the poor, white-faced, +drunken, vicious boy that raved himself to death in the Edinburgh +madhouse. Surely there is more to be gleaned about Fergusson, and +surely it is high time the task was set about. I way tell you +(because your poet is not dead) something of how I feel: we are +three Robins who have touched the Scots lyre this last century. +Well, the one is the world's, he did it, he came off, he is for +ever; but I and the other - ah! what bonds we have - born in the +same city; both sickly, both pestered, one nearly to madness, one +to the madhouse, with a damnatory creed; both seeing the stars and +the dawn, and wearing shoe-leather on the same ancient stones, +under the same pends, down the same closes, where our common +ancestors clashed in their armour, rusty or bright. And the old +Robin, who was before Burns and the flood, died in his acute, +painful youth, and left the models of the great things that were to +come; and the new, who came after, outlived his greensickness, and +has faintly tried to parody the finished work. If you will collect +the strays of Robin Fergusson, fish for material, collect any last +re-echoing of gossip, command me to do what you prefer - to write +the preface - to write the whole if you prefer: anything, so that +another monument (after Burns's) be set up to my unhappy +predecessor on the causey of Auld Reekie. You will never know, nor +will any man, how deep this feeling is: I believe Fergusson lives +in me. I do, but tell it not in Gath; every man has these fanciful +superstitions, coming, going, but yet enduring; only most men are +so wise (or the poet in them so dead) that they keep their follies +for themselves. - I am, yours very truly, + +ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. + + + +Letter: TO EDMUND GOSSE + + + +VAILIMA, APRIL 1891. + +MY DEAR GOSSE, - I have to thank you and Mrs. Gosse for many +mementoes, chiefly for your LIFE of your father. There is a very +delicate task, very delicately done. I noted one or two +carelessnesses, which I meant to point out to you for another +edition; but I find I lack the time, and you will remark them for +yourself against a new edition. They were two, or perhaps three, +flabbinesses of style which (in your work) amazed me. Am I right +in thinking you were a shade bored over the last chapters? or was +it my own fault that made me think them susceptible of a more +athletic compression? (The flabbinesses were not there, I think, +but in the more admirable part, where they showed the bigger.) +Take it all together, the book struck me as if you had been hurried +at the last, but particularly hurried over the proofs, and could +still spend a very profitable fortnight in earnest revision and +(towards the end) heroic compression. The book, in design, +subject, and general execution, is well worth the extra trouble. +And even if I were wrong in thinking it specially wanted, it will +not be lost; for do we not know, in Flaubert's dread confession, +that 'prose is never done'? What a medium to work in, for a man +tired, perplexed among different aims and subjects, and spurred by +the immediate need of 'siller'! However, it's mine for what it's +worth; and it's one of yours, the devil take it; and you know, as +well as Flaubert, and as well as me, that it is NEVER DONE; in +other words, it is a torment of the pit, usually neglected by the +bards who (lucky beggars!) approached the Styx in measure. I speak +bitterly at the moment, having just detected in myself the last +fatal symptom, three blank verses in succession - and I believe, +God help me, a hemistich at the tail of them; hence I have deposed +the labourer, come out of hell by my private trap, and now write to +you from my little place in purgatory. But I prefer hell: would I +could always dig in those red coals - or else be at sea in a +schooner, bound for isles unvisited: to be on shore and not to +work is emptiness - suicidal vacancy. + +I was the more interested in your LIFE of your father, because I +meditate one of mine, or rather of my family. I have no such +materials as you, and (our objections already made) your attack +fills me with despair; it is direct and elegant, and your style is +always admirable to me - lenity, lucidity, usually a high strain of +breeding, an elegance that has a pleasant air of the accidental. +But beware of purple passages. I wonder if you think as well of +your purple passages as I do of mine? I wonder if you think as ill +of mine as I do of yours? I wonder; I can tell you at least what +is wrong with yours - they are treated in the spirit of verse. The +spirit - I don't mean the measure, I don't mean you fall into +bastard cadences; what I mean is that they seem vacant and smoothed +out, ironed, if you like. And in a style which (like yours) aims +more and more successfully at the academic, one purple word is +already much; three - a whole phrase - is inadmissible. Wed +yourself to a clean austerity: that is your force. Wear a linen +ephod, splendidly candid. Arrange its folds, but do not fasten it +with any brooch. I swear to you, in your talking robes, there +should be no patch of adornment; and where the subject forces, let +it force you no further than it must; and be ready with a twinkle +of your pleasantry. Yours is a fine tool, and I see so well how to +hold it; I wonder if you see how to hold mine? But then I am to +the neck in prose, and just now in the 'dark INTERSTYLAR cave,' all +methods and effects wooing me, myself in the midst impotent to +follow any. I look for dawn presently, and a full flowing river of +expression, running whither it wills. But these useless seasons, +above all, when a man MUST continue to spoil paper, are infinitely +weary. + +We are in our house after a fashion; without furniture, 'tis true, +camping there, like the family after a sale. But the bailiff has +not yet appeared; he will probably come after. The place is +beautiful beyond dreams; some fifty miles of the Pacific spread in +front; deep woods all round; a mountain making in the sky a profile +of huge trees upon our left; about us, the little island of our +clearing, studded with brave old gentlemen (or ladies, or 'the twa +o' them') whom we have spared. It is a good place to be in; night +and morning, we have Theodore Rousseaus (always a new one) hung to +amuse us on the walls of the world; and the moon - this is our good +season, we have a moon just now - makes the night a piece of +heaven. It amazes me how people can live on in the dirty north; +yet if you saw our rainy season (which is really a caulker for +wind, wet, and darkness - howling showers, roaring winds, pit- +blackness at noon) you might marvel how we could endure that. And +we can't. But there's a winter everywhere; only ours is in the +summer. Mark my words: there will be a winter in heaven - and in +hell. CELA RENTRE DANS LES PROCEDES DU BON DIEU; ET VOUS VERREZ! +There's another very good thing about Vailima, I am away from the +little bubble of the literary life. It is not all beer and +skittles, is it? By the by, my BALLADS seem to have been dam bad; +all the crickets sing so in their crickety papers; and I have no +ghost of an idea on the point myself: verse is always to me the +unknowable. You might tell me how it strikes a professional bard: +not that it really matters, for, of course, good or bad, I don't +think I shall get into THAT galley any more. But I should like to +know if you join the shrill chorus of the crickets. The crickets +are the devil in all to you: 'tis a strange thing, they seem to +rejoice like a strong man in their injustice. I trust you got my +letter about your Browning book. In case it missed, I wish to say +again that your publication of Browning's kind letter, as an +illustration of HIS character, was modest, proper, and in radiant +good taste. - In Witness whereof, etc., etc., + +ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. + + + +Letter: TO MISS RAWLINSON + + + +VAILIMA, APIA, SAMOA, APRIL 1891. + +MY DEAR MAY, - I never think of you by any more ceremonial name, so +I will not pretend. There is not much chance that I shall forget +you until the time comes for me to forget all this little turmoil +in a corner (though indeed I have been in several corners) of an +inconsiderable planet. You remain in my mind for a good reason, +having given me (in so short a time) the most delightful pleasure. +I shall remember, and you must still be beautiful. The truth is, +you must grow more so, or you will soon be less. It is not so easy +to be a flower, even when you bear a flower's name. And if I +admired you so much, and still remember you, it is not because of +your face, but because you were then worthy of it, as you must +still continue. + +Will you give my heartiest congratulations to Mr. S.? He has my +admiration; he is a brave man; when I was young, I should have run +away from the sight of you, pierced with the sense of my unfitness. +He is more wise and manly. What a good husband he will have to be! +And you - what a good wife! Carry your love tenderly. I will +never forgive him - or you - it is in both your hands - if the face +that once gladdened my heart should be changed into one sour or +sorrowful. + +What a person you are to give flowers! It was so I first heard of +you; and now you are giving the May flower! + +Yes, Skerryvore has passed; it was, for us. But I wish you could +see us in our new home on the mountain, in the middle of great +woods, and looking far out over the Pacific. When Mr. S. is very +rich, he must bring you round the world and let you see it, and see +the old gentleman and the old lady. I mean to live quite a long +while yet, and my wife must do the same, or else I couldn't manage +it; so, you see, you will have plenty of time; and it's a pity not +to see the most beautiful places, and the most beautiful people +moving there, and the real stars and moon overhead, instead of the +tin imitations that preside over London. I do not think my wife +very well; but I am in hopes she will now have a little rest. It +has been a hard business, above all for her; we lived four months +in the hurricane season in a miserable house, overborne with work, +ill-fed, continually worried, drowned in perpetual rain, beaten +upon by wind, so that we must sit in the dark in the evenings; and +then I ran away, and she had a month of it alone. Things go better +now; the back of the work is broken; and we are still foolish +enough to look forward to a little peace. I am a very different +person from the prisoner of Skerryvore. The other day I was three- +and-twenty hours in an open boat; it made me pretty ill; but fancy +its not killing me half-way! It is like a fairy story that I +should have recovered liberty and strength, and should go round +again among my fellow-men, boating, riding, bathing, toiling hard +with a wood-knife in the forest. I can wish you nothing more +delightful than my fortune in life; I wish it you; and better, if +the thing be possible. + +Lloyd is tinkling below me on the typewriter; my wife has just left +the room; she asks me to say she would have written had she been +well enough, and hopes to do it still. - Accept the best wishes of +your admirer, + +ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. + + + +Letter: TO MISS ADELAIDE BOODLE + + + +[VAILIMA, MAY 1891.] + +MY DEAR ADELAIDE, - I will own you just did manage to tread on my +gouty toe; and I beg to assure you with most people I should simply +have turned away and said no more. My cudgelling was therefore in +the nature of a caress or testimonial. + +God forbid, I should seem to judge for you on such a point; it was +what you seemed to set forth as your reasons that fluttered my old +Presbyterian spirit - for, mind you, I am a child of the +Covenanters - whom I do not love, but they are mine after all, my +father's and my mother's - and they had their merits too, and their +ugly beauties, and grotesque heroisms, that I love them for, the +while I laugh at them; but in their name and mine do what you think +right, and let the world fall. That is the privilege and the duty +of private persons; and I shall think the more of you at the +greater distance, because you keep a promise to your fellow-man, +your helper and creditor in life, by just so much as I was tempted +to think the less of you (O not much, or I would never have been +angry) when I thought you were the swallower of a (tinfoil) +formula. + +I must say I was uneasy about my letter, not because it was too +strong as an expression of my unregenerate sentiments, but because +I knew full well it should be followed by something kinder. And +the mischief has been in my health. I fell sharply sick in Sydney, +was put aboard the LUBECK pretty bad, got to Vailima, hung on a +month there, and didn't pick up as well as my work needed; set off +on a journey, gained a great deal, lost it again; and am back at +Vailima, still no good at my necessary work. I tell you this for +my imperfect excuse that I should not have written you again sooner +to remove the bad taste of my last. + +A road has been called Adelaide Road; it leads from the back of our +house to the bridge, and thence to the garden, and by a bifurcation +to the pig pen. It is thus much traversed, particularly by Fanny. +An oleander, the only one of your seeds that prospered in this +climate, grows there; and the name is now some week or ten days +applied and published. ADELAIDE ROAD leads also into the bush, to +the banana patch, and by a second bifurcation over the left branch +of the stream to the plateau and the right hand of the gorges. In +short, it leads to all sorts of good, and is, besides, in itself a +pretty winding path, bound downhill among big woods to the margin +of the stream. + +What a strange idea, to think me a Jew-hater! Isaiah and David and +Heine are good enough for me; and I leave more unsaid. Were I of +Jew blood, I do not think I could ever forgive the Christians; the +ghettos would get in my nostrils like mustard or lit gunpowder. +Just so you as being a child of the Presbytery, I retain - I need +not dwell on that. The ascendant hand is what I feel most +strongly; I am bound in and in with my forbears; were he one of +mine, I should not be struck at all by Mr. Moss of Bevis Marks, I +should still see behind him Moses of the Mount and the Tables and +the shining face. We are all nobly born; fortunate those who know +it; blessed those who remember. + +I am, my dear Adelaide, most genuinely yours, + +ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. + +Write by return to say you are better, and I will try to do the +same. + + + +Letter: TO CHARLES BAXTER + + + +[VAILIMA], TUESDAY, 19TH MAY '91. + +MY DEAR CHARLES, - I don't know what you think of me, not having +written to you at all during your illness. I find two sheets begun +with your name, but that is no excuse. . . . I am keeping bravely; +getting about better, every day, and hope soon to be in my usual +fettle. My books begin to come; and I fell once more on the Old +Bailey session papers. I have 1778, 1784, and 1786. Should you be +able to lay hands on any other volumes, above all a little later, I +should be very glad you should buy them for me. I particularly +want ONE or TWO during the course of the Peninsular War. Come to +think, I ought rather to have communicated this want to Bain. +Would it bore you to communicate to that effect with the great man? +The sooner I have them, the better for me. 'Tis for Henry Shovel. +But Henry Shovel has now turned into a work called 'The Shovels of +Newton French: Including Memoirs of Henry Shovel, a Private in the +Peninsular War,' which work is to begin in 1664 with the marriage +of Skipper, afterwards Alderman Shovel of Bristol, Henry's great- +great-grandfather, and end about 1832 with his own second marriage +to the daughter of his runaway aunt. Will the public ever stand +such an opus? Gude kens, but it tickles me. Two or three +historical personages will just appear: Judge Jeffreys, +Wellington, Colquhoun, Grant, and I think Townsend the runner. I +know the public won't like it; let 'em lump it then; I mean to make +it good; it will be more like a saga. - Adieu, yours ever +affectionately, + +R. L. STEVENSON. + + + +Letter: TO E. L. BURLINGAME + + + +VAILIMA [SUMMER 1891]. + +MY DEAR BURLINGAME, - I find among my grandfather's papers his own +reminiscences of his voyage round the north with Sir Walter, eighty +years ago, LABUNTUR ANNI! They are not remarkably good, but he was +not a bad observer, and several touches seem to me speaking. It +has occurred to me you might like them to appear in the MAGAZINE. +If you would, kindly let me know, and tell me how you would like it +handled. My grandad's MS. runs to between six and seven thousand +words, which I could abbreviate of anecdotes that scarce touch Sir +W. Would you like this done? Would you like me to introduce the +old gentleman? I had something of the sort in my mind, and could +fill a few columns rather A PROPOS. I give you the first offer of +this, according to your request; for though it may forestall one of +the interests of my biography, the thing seems to me particularly +suited for prior appearance in a magazine. + +I see the first number of the WRECKER; I thought it went lively +enough; and by a singular accident, the picture is not unlike Tai- +o-hae! + +Thus we see the age of miracles, etc. - Yours very sincerely, + +R. L. S. + +Proofs for next mail. + + + +Letter: TO W. CRAIBE ANGUS + + + +[SUMMER 1891.] + +DEAR MR. ANGUS, - You can use my letter as you will. The parcel +has not come; pray Heaven the next post bring it safe. Is it +possible for me to write a preface here? I will try if you like, +if you think I must: though surely there are Rivers in Assyria. +Of course you will send me sheets of the catalogue; I suppose it +(the preface) need not be long; perhaps it should be rather very +short? Be sure you give me your views upon these points. Also +tell me what names to mention among those of your helpers, and do +remember to register everything, else it is not safe. + +The true place (in my view) for a monument to Fergusson were the +churchyard of Haddington. But as that would perhaps not carry many +votes, I should say one of the two following sites:- First, either +as near the site of the old Bedlam as we could get, or, second, +beside the Cross, the heart of his city. Upon this I would have a +fluttering butterfly, and, I suggest, the citation, + + +Poor butterfly, thy case I mourn. + + +For the case of Fergusson is not one to pretend about. A more +miserable tragedy the sun never shone upon, or (in consideration of +our climate) I should rather say refused to brighten. - Yours +truly, + +ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. + +Where Burns goes will not matter. He is no local poet, like your +Robin the First; he is general as the casing air. Glasgow, as the +chief city of Scottish men, would do well; but for God's sake, +don't let it be like the Glasgow memorial to Knox: I remember, +when I first saw this, laughing for an hour by Shrewsbury clock. + +R. L. S. + + + +Letter: TO H. C. IDE + + + +[VAILIMA, JUNE 19, 1891.] + +DEAR MR. IDE, - Herewith please find the DOCUMENT, which I trust +will prove sufficient in law. It seems to me very attractive in +its eclecticism; Scots, English, and Roman law phrases are all +indifferently introduced, and a quotation from the works of Haynes +Bayly can hardly fail to attract the indulgence of the Bench. - +Yours very truly, + +ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. + +I, Robert Louis Stevenson, Advocate of the Scots Bar, author of THE +MASTER OF BALLANTRAE and MORAL EMBLEMS, stuck civil engineer, sole +owner and patentee of the Palace and Plantation known as Vailima in +the island of Upolu, Samoa, a British Subject, being in sound mind, +and pretty well, I thank you, in body: + +In consideration that Miss Annie H. Ide, daughter of H. C. Ide, in +the town of Saint Johnsbury, in the county of Caledonia, in the +state of Vermont, United States of America, was born, out of all +reason, upon Christmas Day, and is therefore out of all justice +denied the consolation and profit of a proper birthday; + +And considering that I, the said Robert Louis Stevenson, have +attained an age when O, we never mention it, and that I have now no +further use for a birthday of any description; + +And in consideration that I have met H. C. Ide, the father of the +said Annie H. Ide, and found him about as white a land commissioner +as I require: + +HAVE TRANSFERRED, and DO HEREBY TRANSFER, to the said Annie H. Ide, +ALL AND WHOLE my rights and priviledges in the thirteenth day of +November, formerly my birthday, now, hereby, and henceforth, the +birthday of the said Annie H. Ide, to have, hold, exercise, and +enjoy the same in the customary manner, by the sporting of fine +raiment, eating of rich meats, and receipt of gifts, compliments, +and copies of verse, according to the manner of our ancestors; + +AND I DIRECT the said Annie H. Ide to add to the said name of Annie +H. Ide the name Louisa - at least in private; and I charge her to +use my said birthday with moderation and humanity, ET TAMQUAM BONA +FILIA FAMILIAE, the said birthday not being so young as it once +was, and having carried me in a very satisfactory manner since I +can remember; + +And in case the said Annie H. Ide shall neglect or contravene +either of the above conditions, I hereby revoke the donation and +transfer my rights in the said birthday to the President of the +United States of America for the time being: + +In witness whereof I have hereto set my hand and seal this +nineteenth day of June in the year of grace eighteen hundred and +ninety-one. + +[SEAL.] + +ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. + +WITNESS, LLOYD OSBOURNE, +WITNESS, HAROLD WATTS. + + + +Letter: TO HENRY JAMES + + + +[VAILIMA, OCTOBER 1891.] + +MY DEAR HENRY JAMES, - From this perturbed and hunted being expect +but a line, and that line shall be but a whoop for Adela. O she's +delicious, delicious; I could live and die with Adela - die, rather +the better of the two; you never did a straighter thing, and never +will. + +DAVID BALFOUR, second part of KIDNAPPED, is on the stocks at last; +and is not bad, I think. As for THE WRECKER, it's a machine, you +know - don't expect aught else - a machine, and a police machine; +but I believe the end is one of the most genuine butcheries in +literature; and we point to our machine with a modest pride, as the +only police machine without a villain. Our criminals are a most +pleasing crew, and leave the dock with scarce a stain upon their +character. + +What a different line of country to be trying to draw Adela, and +trying to write the last four chapters of THE WRECKER! Heavens, +it's like two centuries; and ours is such rude, transpontine +business, aiming only at a certain fervour of conviction and sense +of energy and violence in the men; and yours is so neat and bright +and of so exquisite a surface! Seems dreadful to send such a book +to such an author; but your name is on the list. And we do +modestly ask you to consider the chapters on the NORAH CREINA with +the study of Captain Nares, and the forementioned last four, with +their brutality of substance and the curious (and perhaps unsound) +technical manoeuvre of running the story together to a point as we +go along, the narrative becoming more succinct and the details +fining off with every page. - Sworn affidavit of + +R. L. S. + +NO PERSON NOW ALIVE HAS BEATEN ADELA: I ADORE ADELA AND HER MAKER. +SIC SUBSCRIB. + +ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. + +A Sublime Poem to follow. + +Adela, Adela, Adela Chart, +What have you done to my elderly heart? +Of all the ladies of paper and ink +I count you the paragon, call you the pink. +The word of your brother depicts you in part: +'You raving maniac!' Adela Chart; +But in all the asylums that cumber the ground, +So delightful a maniac was ne'er to be found. + +I pore on you, dote on you, clasp you to heart, +I laud, love, and laugh at you, Adela Chart, +And thank my dear maker the while I admire +That I can be neither your husband nor sire. + +Your husband's, your sire's were a difficult part; +You're a byway to suicide, Adela Chart; +But to read of, depicted by exquisite James, +O, sure you're the flower and quintessence of dames. + +R. L. S. + + +ERUCTAVIT COR MEUM. + + +My heart was inditing a goodly matter about Adela Chart. +Though oft I've been touched by the volatile dart, +To none have I grovelled but Adela Chart, +There are passable ladies, no question, in art - +But where is the marrow of Adela Chart? +I dreamed that to Tyburn I passed in the cart - +I dreamed I was married to Adela Chart: +From the first I awoke with a palpable start, +The second dumfoundered me, Adela Chart! + + +Another verse bursts from me, you see; no end to the violence of +the Muse. + + + +Letter: TO E. L. BURLINGAME + + + +OCTOBER 8TH, 1891. + +MY DEAR BURLINGAME, - All right, you shall have the TALES OF MY +GRANDFATHER soon, but I guess we'll try and finish off THE WRECKER +first. A PROPOS of whom, please send some advanced sheets to +Cassell's - away ahead of you - so that they may get a dummy out. + +Do you wish to illustrate MY GRANDFATHER? He mentions as excellent +a portrait of Scott by Basil Hall's brother. I don't think I ever +saw this engraved; would it not, if you could get track of it, +prove a taking embellishment? I suggest this for your +consideration and inquiry. A new portrait of Scott strikes me as +good. There is a hard, tough, constipated old portrait of my +grandfather hanging in my aunt's house, Mrs. Alan Stevenson, 16 St. +Leonard's Terrace, Chelsea, which has never been engraved - the +better portrait, Joseph's bust has been reproduced, I believe, +twice - and which, I am sure, my aunt would let you have a copy of. +The plate could be of use for the book when we get so far, and thus +to place it in the MAGAZINE might be an actual saving. + +I am swallowed up in politics for the first, I hope for the last, +time in my sublunary career. It is a painful, thankless trade; but +one thing that came up I could not pass in silence. Much drafting, +addressing, deputationising has eaten up all my time, and again (to +my contrition) I leave you Wreckerless. As soon as the mail leaves +I tackle it straight. - Yours very sincerely, + +ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. + + + +Letter: TO E. L. BURLINGAME + + + +VAILIMA [AUTUMN 1891]. + +MY DEAR BURLINGAME, - The time draws nigh, the mail is near due, +and I snatch a moment of collapse so that you may have at least +some sort of a scratch of note along with the + +\ end + \ of + \ THE + \ WRECKER. + Hurray! + +which I mean to go herewith. It has taken me a devil of a pull, +but I think it's going to be ready. If I did not know you were on +the stretch waiting for it and trembling for your illustrations, I +would keep it for another finish; but things being as they are, I +will let it go the best way I can get it. I am now within two +pages of the end of Chapter XXV., which is the last chapter, the +end with its gathering up of loose threads, being the dedication to +Low, and addressed to him: this is my last and best expedient for +the knotting up of these loose cards. 'Tis possible I may not get +that finished in time, in which case you'll receive only Chapters +XXII. to XXV. by this mail, which is all that can be required for +illustration. + +I wish you would send me MEMOIRS OF BARON MARBOT (French); +INTRODUCTION TO THE STUDY OF THE HISTORY OF LANGUAGE, Strong, +Logeman & Wheeler; PRINCIPLES OF PSYCHOLOGY, William James; Morris +& Magnusson's SAGA LIBRARY, any volumes that are out; George +Meredith's ONE OF OUR CONQUERORS; LA BAS, by Huysmans (French); +O'Connor Morris's GREAT COMMANDERS OF MODERN TIMES; LIFE'S +HANDICAP, by Kipling; of Taine's ORIGINES DE LA FRANCE +CONTEMPORAINE, I have only as far as LA REVOLUTION, vol. iii.; if +another volume is out, please add that. There is for a book-box. + +I hope you will like the end; I think it is rather strong meat. I +have got into such a deliberate, dilatory, expansive turn, that the +effort to compress this last yarn was unwelcome; but the longest +yarn has to come to an end sometime. Please look it over for +carelessnesses, and tell me if it had any effect upon your jaded +editorial mind. I'll see if ever I have time to add more. + +I add to my book-box list Adams' HISTORICAL ESSAYS; the Plays of A. +W. Pinero - all that have appeared, and send me the rest in course +as they do appear; NOUGHTS AND CROSSES by Q.; Robertson's SCOTLAND +UNDER HER EARLY KINGS. + +SUNDAY. + +The deed is done, didst thou not hear a noise? 'The end' has been +written to this endless yarn, and I am once more a free man. What +will he do with it? + + + +Letter: TO W. CRAIBE ANGUS + + + +VAILIMA, SAMOA, NOVEMBER 1891. + +MY DEAR MR. ANGUS, - Herewith the invaluable sheets. They came +months after your letter, and I trembled; but here they are, and I +have scrawled my vile name on them, and 'thocht shame' as I did it. +I am expecting the sheets of your catalogue, so that I may attack +the preface. Please give me all the time you can. The sooner the +better; you might even send me early proofs as they are sent out, +to give me more incubation. I used to write as slow as judgment; +now I write rather fast; but I am still 'a slow study,' and sit a +long while silent on my eggs. Unconscious thought, there is the +only method: macerate your subject, let it boil slow, then take +the lid off and look in - and there your stuff is, good or bad. +But the journalist's method is the way to manufacture lies; it is +will-worship - if you know the luminous quaker phrase; and the will +is only to be brought in the field for study, and again for +revision. The essential part of work is not an act, it is a state. + +I do not know why I write you this trash. + +Many thanks for your handsome dedication. I have not yet had time +to do more than glance at Mrs. Begg; it looks interesting. - Yours +very truly, + +ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. + + + +Letter: TO MISS ANNIE H. IDE + + + +VAILIMA, SAMOA [NOVEMBER 1891]. + +MY DEAR LOUISA, - Your picture of the church, the photograph of +yourself and your sister, and your very witty and pleasing letter, +came all in a bundle, and made me feel I had my money's worth for +that birthday. I am now, I must be, one of your nearest relatives; +exactly what we are to each other, I do not know, I doubt if the +case has ever happened before - your papa ought to know, and I +don't believe he does; but I think I ought to call you in the +meanwhile, and until we get the advice of counsel learned in the +law, my name-daughter. Well, I was extremely pleased to see by the +church that my name-daughter could draw; by the letter, that she +was no fool; and by the photograph, that she was a pretty girl, +which hurts nothing. See how virtues are rewarded! My first idea +of adopting you was entirely charitable; and here I find that I am +quite proud of it, and of you, and that I chose just the kind of +name-daughter I wanted. For I can draw too, or rather I mean to +say I could before I forgot how; and I am very far from being a +fool myself, however much I may look it; and I am as beautiful as +the day, or at least I once hoped that perhaps I might be going to +be. And so I might. So that you see we are well met, and peers on +these important points. I am VERY glad also that you are older +than your sister. So should I have been, if I had had one. So +that the number of points and virtues which you have inherited from +your name-father is already quite surprising. + +I wish you would tell your father - not that I like to encourage my +rival - that we have had a wonderful time here of late, and that +they are having a cold day on Mulinuu, and the consuls are writing +reports, and I am writing to the TIMES, and if we don't get rid of +our friends this time I shall begin to despair of everything but my +name-daughter. + +You are quite wrong as to the effect of the birthday on your age. +From the moment the deed was registered (as it was in the public +press with every solemnity), the 13th of November became your own +AND ONLY birthday, and you ceased to have been born on Christmas +Day. Ask your father: I am sure he will tell you this is sound +law. You are thus become a month and twelve days younger than you +were, but will go on growing older for the future in the regular +and human manner from one 13th November to the next. The effect on +me is more doubtful; I may, as you suggest, live for ever; I might, +on the other hand, come to pieces like the one-horse shay at a +moment's notice; doubtless the step was risky, but I do not the +least regret that which enables me to sign myself your revered and +delighted name-father, + +ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. + + + +Letter: TO FRED ORR + + + +VAILIMA, UPOLU, SAMOA, NOVEMBER 28TH, 1891. + +DEAR SIR, - Your obliging communication is to hand. I am glad to +find that you have read some of my books, and to see that you spell +my name right. This is a point (for some reason) of great +difficulty; and I believe that a gentleman who can spell Stevenson +with a v at sixteen, should have a show for the Presidency before +fifty. By that time + + +I, nearer to the wayside inn, + + +predict that you will have outgrown your taste for autographs, but +perhaps your son may have inherited the collection, and on the +morning of the great day will recall my prophecy to your mind. And +in the papers of 1921 (say) this letter may arouse a smile. + +Whatever you do, read something else besides novels and newspapers; +the first are good enough when they are good; the second, at their +best, are worth nothing. Read great books of literature and +history; try to understand the Roman Empire and the Middle Ages; be +sure you do not understand when you dislike them; condemnation is +non-comprehension. And if you know something of these two periods, +you will know a little more about to-day, and may be a good +President. + +I send you my best wishes, and am yours, + +ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON, + +AUTHOR OF A VAST QUANTITY OF LITTLE BOOKS. + + + +Letter: TO E. L. BURLINGAME + + + +[VAILIMA, DECEMBER 1891.] + +MY DEAR BURLINGAME, - The end of THE WRECKER having but just come +in, you will, I dare say, be appalled to receive three (possibly +four) chapters of a new book of the least attractive sort: a +history of nowhere in a corner, for no time to mention, running to +a volume! Well, it may very likely be an illusion; it is very +likely no one could possibly wish to read it, but I wish to publish +it. If you don't cotton to the idea, kindly set it up at my +expense, and let me know your terms for publishing. The great +affair to me is to have per return (if it might be) four or five - +better say half a dozen - sets of the roughest proofs that can be +drawn. There are a good many men here whom I want to read the +blessed thing, and not one would have the energy to read MS. At +the same time, if you care to glance at it, and have the time, I +should be very glad of your opinion as to whether I have made any +step at all towards possibly inducing folk at home to read matter +so extraneous and outlandish. I become heavy and owlish; years sit +upon me; it begins to seem to me to be a man's business to leave +off his damnable faces and say his say. Else I could have made it +pungent and light and lively. In considering, kindly forget that I +am R. L. S.; think of the four chapters as a book you are reading, +by an inhabitant of our 'lovely but fatil' islands; and see if it +could possibly amuse the hebetated public. I have to publish +anyway, you understand; I have a purpose beyond; I am concerned for +some of the parties to this quarrel. What I want to hear is from +curiosity; what I want you to judge of is what we are to do with +the book in a business sense. To me it is not business at all; I +had meant originally to lay all the profits to the credit of Samoa; +when it comes to the pinch of writing, I judge this unfair - I give +too much - and I mean to keep (if there be any profit at all) one- +half for the artisan; the rest I shall hold over to give to the +Samoans FOR THAT WHICH I CHOOSE AND AGAINST WORK DONE. I think I +have never heard of greater insolence than to attempt such a +subject; yet the tale is so strange and mixed, and the people so +oddly charactered - above all, the whites - and the high note of +the hurricane and the warships is so well prepared to take popular +interest, and the latter part is so directly in the day's movement, +that I am not without hope but some may read it; and if they don't, +a murrain on them! Here is, for the first time, a tale of Greeks - +Homeric Greeks - mingled with moderns, and all true; Odysseus +alongside of Rajah Brooke, PROPORTION GARDEE; and all true. Here +is for the first time since the Greeks (that I remember) the +history of a handful of men, where all know each other in the eyes, +and live close in a few acres, narrated at length, and with the +seriousness of history. Talk of the modern novel; here is a modern +history. And if I had the misfortune to found a school, the +legitimate historian might lie down and die, for he could never +overtake his material. Here is a little tale that has not 'caret'- +ed its 'vates'; 'sacer' is another point. + +R. L. S. + + + +Letter: TO HENRY JAMES + + + +DECEMBER 7TH, 1891. + +MY DEAR HENRY JAMES, - Thanks for yours; your former letter was +lost; so it appears was my long and masterly treatise on the TRAGIC +MUSE. I remember sending it very well, and there went by the same +mail a long and masterly tractate to Gosse about his daddy's life, +for which I have been long expecting an acknowledgment, and which +is plainly gone to the bottom with the other. If you see Gosse, +please mention it. These gems of criticism are now lost +literature, like the tomes of Alexandria. I could not do 'em +again. And I must ask you to be content with a dull head, a weary +hand, and short commons, for to-day, as I am physically tired with +hard work of every kind, the labours of the planter and the author +both piled upon me mountain deep. I am delighted beyond expression +by Bourget's book: he has phrases which affect me almost like +Montaigne; I had read ere this a masterly essay of his on Pascal; +this book does it; I write for all his essays by this mail, and +shall try to meet him when I come to Europe. The proposal is to +pass a summer in France, I think in Royat, where the faithful could +come and visit me; they are now not many. I expect Henry James to +come and break a crust or two with us. I believe it will be only +my wife and myself; and she will go over to England, but not I, or +possibly incog. to Southampton, and then to Boscombe to see poor +Lady Shelley. I am writing - trying to write in a Babel fit for +the bottomless pit; my wife, her daughter, her grandson and my +mother, all shrieking at each other round the house - not in war, +thank God! but the din is ultra martial, and the note of Lloyd +joins in occasionally, and the cause of this to-do is simply cacao, +whereof chocolate comes. You may drink of our chocolate perhaps in +five or six years from now, and not know it. It makes a fine +bustle, and gives us some hard work, out of which I have slunk for +to-day. + +I have a story coming out: God knows when or how; it answers to +the name of the BEACH OF FALESA, and I think well of it. I was +delighted with the TRAGIC MUSE; I thought the Muse herself one of +your best works; I was delighted also to hear of the success of +your piece, as you know I am a dam failure, and might have dined +with the dinner club that Daudet and these parties frequented. + +NEXT DAY. + +I have just been breakfasting at Baiae and Brindisi, and the charm +of Bourget hag-rides me. I wonder if this exquisite fellow, all +made of fiddle-strings and scent and intelligence, could bear any +of my bald prose. If you think he could, ask Colvin to send him a +copy of these last essays of mine when they appear; and tell +Bourget they go to him from a South Sea Island as literal homage. +I have read no new book for years that gave me the same literary +thrill as his SENSATIONS D'ITALIE. If (as I imagine) my cut-and- +dry literature would be death to him, and worse than death - +journalism - be silent on the point. For I have a great curiosity +to know him, and if he doesn't know my work, I shall have the +better chance of making his acquaintance. I read THE PUPIL the +other day with great joy; your little boy is admirable; why is +there no little boy like that unless he hails from the Great +Republic? + +Here I broke off, and wrote Bourget a dedication; no use resisting; +it's a love affair. O, he's exquisite, I bless you for the gift of +him. I have really enjoyed this book as I - almost as I - used to +enjoy books when I was going twenty - twenty-three; and these are +the years for reading! + +R. L. S. + + + +Letter: TO E. L. BURLINGAME + + + +[VAILIMA] JAN 2ND, '92. + +MY DEAR BURLINGAME, - Overjoyed you were pleased with WRECKER, and +shall consider your protests. There is perhaps more art than you +think for in the peccant chapter, where I have succeeded in packing +into one a dedication, an explanation, and a termination. Surely +you had not recognised the phrase about boodle? It was a quotation +from Jim Pinkerton, and seemed to me agreeably skittish. However, +all shall be prayerfully considered. + +To come to a more painful subject. Herewith go three more chapters +of the wretched HISTORY; as you see, I approach the climax. I +expect the book to be some 70,000 words, of which you have now 45. +Can I finish it for next mail? I am going to try! 'Tis a long +piece of journalism, and full of difficulties here and there, of +this kind and that, and will make me a power of friends to be sure. +There is one Becker who will probably put up a window to me in the +church where he was baptized; and I expect a testimonial from +Captain Hand. + +Sorry to let the mail go without the Scott; this has been a bad +month with me, and I have been below myself. I shall find a way to +have it come by next, or know the reason why. The mail after, +anyway. + +A bit of a sketch map appears to me necessary for my HISTORY; +perhaps two. If I do not have any, 'tis impossible any one should +follow; and I, even when not at all interested, demand that I shall +be able to follow; even a tourist book without a map is a cross to +me; and there must be others of my way of thinking. I inclose the +very artless one that I think needful. Vailima, in case you are +curious, is about as far again behind Tanugamanono as that is from +the sea. + +M'Clure is publishing a short story of mine, some 50,000 words, I +think, THE BEACH OF FALESA; when he's done with it, I want you and +Cassell to bring it out in a little volume; I shall send you a +dedication for it; I believe it good; indeed, to be honest, very +good. Good gear that pleases the merchant. + +The other map that I half threaten is a chart for the hurricane. +Get me Kimberley's report of the hurricane: not to be found here. +It is of most importance; I MUST have it with my proofs of that +part, if I cannot have it earlier, which now seems impossible. - +Yours in hot haste, + +R. L. STEVENSON. + + + +Letter: TO J. M. BARRIE + + + +VAILIMA, SAMOA, FEBRUARY 1892. + +DEAR MR. BARRIE, - This is at least the third letter I have written +you, but my correspondence has a bad habit of not getting so far as +the post. That which I possess of manhood turns pale before the +business of the address and envelope. But I hope to be more +fortunate with this: for, besides the usual and often recurrent +desire to thank you for your work-you are one of four that have +come to the front since I was watching and had a corner of my own +to watch, and there is no reason, unless it be in these mysterious +tides that ebb and flow, and make and mar and murder the works of +poor scribblers, why you should not do work of the best order. The +tides have borne away my sentence, of which I was weary at any +rate, and between authors I may allow myself so much freedom as to +leave it pending. We are both Scots besides, and I suspect both +rather Scotty Scots; my own Scotchness tends to intermittency, but +is at times erisypelitous - if that be rightly spelt. Lastly, I +have gathered we had both made our stages in the metropolis of the +winds: our Virgil's 'grey metropolis,' and I count that a lasting +bond. No place so brands a man. + +Finally, I feel it a sort of duty to you to report progress. This +may be an error, but I believed I detected your hand in an article +- it may be an illusion, it may have been by one of those +industrious insects who catch up and reproduce the handling of each +emergent man - but I'll still hope it was yours - and hope it may +please you to hear that the continuation of KIDNAPPED is under way. +I have not yet got to Alan, so I do not know if he is still alive, +but David seems to have a kick or two in his shanks. I was pleased +to see how the Anglo-Saxon theory fell into the trap: I gave my +Lowlander a Gaelic name, and even commented on the fact in the +text; yet almost all critics recognised in Alan and David a Saxon +and a Celt. I know not about England; in Scotland at least, where +Gaelic was spoken in Fife little over the century ago, and in +Galloway not much earlier, I deny that there exists such a thing as +a pure Saxon, and I think it more than questionable if there be +such a thing as a pure Celt. + +But what have you to do with this? and what have I? Let us +continue to inscribe our little bits of tales, and let the heathen +rage! Yours, with sincere interest in your career, + +ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. + + + +Letter: TO WILLIAM MORRIS + + + +VAILIMA, SAMOA, FEB. 1892. + +MASTER, - A plea from a place so distant should have some weight, +and from a heart so grateful should have some address. I have been +long in your debt, Master, and I did not think it could be so much +increased as you have now increased it. I was long in your debt +and deep in your debt for many poems that I shall never forget, and +for SIGURD before all, and now you have plunged me beyond payment +by the Saga Library. And so now, true to human nature, being +plunged beyond payment, I come and bark at your heels. + +For surely, Master, that tongue that we write, and that you have +illustrated so nobly, is yet alive. She has her rights and laws, +and is our mother, our queen, and our instrument. Now in that +living tongue WHERE has one sense, WHEREAS another. In the +HEATHSLAYINGS STORY, p. 241, line 13, it bears one of its ordinary +senses. Elsewhere and usually through the two volumes, which is +all that has yet reached me of this entrancing publication, WHEREAS +is made to figure for WHERE. + +For the love of God, my dear and honoured Morris, use WHERE, and +let us know WHEREAS we are, wherefore our gratitude shall grow, +whereby you shall be the more honoured wherever men love clear +language, whereas now, although we honour, we are troubled. + +Whereunder, please find inscribed to this very impudent but yet +very anxious document, the name of one of the most distant but not +the youngest or the coldest of those who honour you. + +ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. + + + +Letter: TO MRS. CHARLES FAIRCHILD + + + +[VAILIMA, MARCH 1892.] + +MY DEAR MRS. FAIRCHILD, - I am guilty in your sight, but my affairs +besiege me. The chief-justiceship of a family of nineteen +persons is in itself no sinecure, and sometimes occupies me for +days: two weeks ago for four days almost entirely, and for two +days entirely. Besides which, I have in the last few months +written all but one chapter of a HISTORY OF SAMOA for the last +eight or nine years; and while I was unavoidably delayed in the +writing of this, awaiting material, put in one-half of DAVID +BALFOUR, the sequel to KIDNAPPED. Add the ordinary impediments of +life, and admire my busyness. I am now an old, but healthy +skeleton, and degenerate much towards the machine. By six at work: +stopped at half-past ten to give a history lesson to a step- +grandson; eleven, lunch; after lunch we have a musical performance +till two; then to work again; bath, 4.40, dinner, five; cards in +the evening till eight; and then to bed - only I have no bed, only +a chest with a mat and blankets - and read myself to sleep. This +is the routine, but often sadly interrupted. Then you may see me +sitting on the floor of my verandah haranguing and being harangued +by squatting chiefs on a question of a road; or more privately +holding an inquiry into some dispute among our familiars, myself on +my bed, the boys on the floor - for when it comes to the judicial I +play dignity - or else going down to Apia on some more or less +unsatisfactory errand. Altogether it is a life that suits me, but +it absorbs me like an ocean. That is what I have always envied and +admired in Scott; with all that immensity of work and study, his +mind kept flexible, glancing to all points of natural interest. +But the lean hot spirits, such as mine, become hypnotised with +their bit occupations - if I may use Scotch to you - it is so far +more scornful than any English idiom. Well, I can't help being a +skeleton, and you are to take this devious passage for an apology. + +I thought ALADDIN capital fun; but why, in fortune, did he pretend +it was moral at the end? The so-called nineteenth century, OU VA- +T-IL SE NICHER? 'Tis a trifle, but Pyle would do well to knock the +passage out, and leave his boguey tale a boguey tale, and a good +one at that. + +The arrival of your box was altogether a great success to the +castaways. You have no idea where we live. Do you know, in all +these islands there are not five hundred whites, and no postal +delivery, and only one village - it is no more - and would be a +mean enough village in Europe? We were asked the other day if +Vailima were the name of our post town, and we laughed. Do you +know, though we are but three miles from the village metropolis, we +have no road to it, and our goods are brought on the pack-saddle? +And do you know - or I should rather say, can you believe - or (in +the famous old Tichborne trial phrase) would you be surprised to +learn, that all you have read of Vailima - or Subpriorsford, as I +call it - is entirely false, and we have no ice-machine, and no +electric light, and no water supply but the cistern of the heavens, +and but one public room, and scarce a bedroom apiece? But, of +course, it is well known that I have made enormous sums by my +evanescent literature, and you will smile at my false humility. +The point, however, is much on our minds just now. We are +expecting an invasion of Kiplings; very glad we shall be to see +them; but two of the party are ladies, and I tell you we had to +hold a council of war to stow them. You European ladies are so +particular; with all of mine, sleeping has long become a public +function, as with natives and those who go down much into the sea +in ships. + +Dear Mrs. Fairchild, I must go to my work. I have but two words to +say in conclusion. + +First, civilisation is rot. + +Second, console a savage with more of the milk of that over +civilised being, your adorable schoolboy. + +As I wrote these remarkable words, I was called down to eight +o'clock prayers, and have just worked through a chapter of Joshua +and five verses, with five treble choruses of a Samoan hymn; but +the music was good, our boys and precentress ('tis always a woman +that leads) did better than I ever heard them, and to my great +pleasure I understood it all except one verse. This gave me the +more time to try and identify what the parts were doing, and +further convict my dull ear. Beyond the fact that the soprano rose +to the tonic above, on one occasion I could recognise nothing. +This is sickening, but I mean to teach my ear better before I am +done with it or this vile carcase. + +I think it will amuse you (for a last word) to hear that our +precentress - she is the washerwoman - is our shame. She is a +good, healthy, comely, strapping young wench, full of energy and +seriousness, a splendid workwoman, delighting to train our chorus, +delighting in the poetry of the hymns, which she reads aloud (on +the least provocation) with a great sentiment of rhythm. Well, +then, what is curious? Ah, we did not know! but it was told us in +a whisper from the cook-house - she is not of good family. Don't +let it get out, please; everybody knows it, of course, here; there +is no reason why Europe and the States should have the advantage of +me also. And the rest of my housefolk are all chief-people, I +assure you. And my late overseer (far the best of his race) is a +really serious chief with a good 'name.' Tina is the name; it is +not in the Almanach de Gotha, it must have got dropped at press. +The odd thing is, we rather share the prejudice. I have almost +always - though not quite always - found the higher the chief the +better the man through all the islands; or, at least, that the best +man came always from a highish rank. I hope Helen will continue to +prove a bright exception. + +With love to Fairchild and the Huge Schoolboy, I am, my dear Mrs. +Fairchild, yours very sincerely, + +ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. + + + +Letter: TO E. L. BURLINGAME + + + +[VAILIMA, MARCH 1892.] + +MY DEAR BURLINGAME, - Herewith Chapters IX. and X., and I am left +face to face with the horrors and dilemmas of the present regimen: +pray for those that go down to the sea in ships. I have promised +Henley shall have a chance to publish the hurricane chapter if he +like, so please let the slips be sent QUAM PRIMUM to C. Baxter, +W.S., 11 S. Charlotte Street, Edinburgh. I got on mighty quick +with that chapter - about five days of the toughest kind of work. +God forbid I should ever have such another pirn to wind! When I +invent a language, there shall be a direct and an indirect pronoun +differently declined - then writing would be some fun. + + +DIRECT INDIRECT + + He Tu + Him Tum + His Tus + + +Ex.: HE seized TUM by TUS throat; but TU at the same moment caught +HIM by HIS hair. A fellow could write hurricanes with an +inflection like that! Yet there would he difficulties too. + +Do what you please about THE BEACH; and I give you CARTE BLANCHE to +write in the matter to Baxter - or telegraph if the time press - to +delay the English contingent. Herewith the two last slips of THE +WRECKER. I cannot go beyond. By the way, pray compliment the +printers on the proofs of the Samoa racket, but hint to them that +it is most unbusiness-like and unscholarly to clip the edges of the +galleys; these proofs should really have been sent me on large +paper; and I and my friends here are all put to a great deal of +trouble and confusion by the mistake. - For, as you must conceive, +in a matter so contested and complicated, the number of corrections +and the length of explanations is considerable. + +Please add to my former orders - + +LE CHEVALIER DES TOUCHES } by Barbey d'Aurevilly. +LES DIABOLIQUES . . . } +CORRESPONDANCE DE HENRI BEYLE (Stendahl). + +Yours sincerely, + +R. L. STEVENSON. + + + +Letter: TO T. W. DOVER + + + +VAILIMA PLANTATION, UPOLU, SAMOA, JUNE 20TH, 1892. + +SIR, - In reply to your very interesting letter, I cannot fairly +say that I have ever been poor, or known what it was to want a +meal. I have been reduced, however, to a very small sum of money, +with no apparent prospect of increasing it; and at that time I +reduced myself to practically one meal a day, with the most +disgusting consequences to my health. At this time I lodged in the +house of a working man, and associated much with others. At the +same time, from my youth up, I have always been a good deal and +rather intimately thrown among the working-classes, partly as a +civil engineer in out-of-the-way places, partly from a strong and, +I hope, not ill-favoured sentiment of curiosity. But the place +where, perhaps, I was most struck with the fact upon which you +comment was the house of a friend, who was exceedingly poor, in +fact, I may say destitute, and who lived in the attic of a very +tall house entirely inhabited by persons in varying stages of +poverty. As he was also in ill-health, I made a habit of passing +my afternoon with him, and when there it was my part to answer the +door. The steady procession of people begging, and the expectant +and confident manner in which they presented themselves, struck me +more and more daily; and I could not but remember with surprise +that though my father lived but a few streets away in a fine house, +beggars scarce came to the door once a fortnight or a month. From +that time forward I made it my business to inquire, and in the +stories which I am very fond of hearing from all sorts and +conditions of men, learned that in the time of their distress it +was always from the poor they sought assistance, and almost always +from the poor they got it. + +Trusting I have now satisfactorily answered your question, which I +thank you for asking, I remain, with sincere compliments, + +ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. + + + +Letter: TO E. L. BURLINGAME + + + +VAILIMA, SUMMER 1892. + +MY DEAR BURLINGAME, - First of all, YOU HAVE ALL THE CORRECTIONS ON +'THE WRECKER.' I found I had made what I meant and forgotten it, +and was so careless as not to tell you. + +Second, of course, and by all means, charge corrections on the +Samoa book to me; but there are not near so many as I feared. The +Lord hath dealt bountifully with me, and I believe all my advisers +were amazed to see how nearly correct I had got the truck, at least +I was. With this you will receive the whole revise and a +typewritten copy of the last chapter. And the thing now is Speed, +to catch a possible revision of the treaty. I believe Cassells are +to bring it out, but Baxter knows, and the thing has to be crammed +through PRESTISSIMO, A LA CHASSEUR. + +You mention the belated Barbeys; what about the equally belated +Pineros? And I hope you will keep your bookshop alive to supplying +me continuously with the SAGA LIBRARY. I cannot get enough of +SAGAS; I wish there were nine thousand; talk about realism! + +All seems to flourish with you; I also prosper; none the less for +being quit of that abhorred task, Samoa. I could give a supper +party here were there any one to sup. Never was such a +disagreeable task, but the thing had to be told. . . . + +There, I trust I am done with this cursed chapter of my career, bar +the rotten eggs and broken bottles that may follow, of course. +Pray remember, speed is now all that can be asked, hoped, or +wished. I give up all hope of proofs, revises, proof of the map, +or sic like; and you on your side will try to get it out as +reasonably seemly as may be. + +Whole Samoa book herewith. Glory be to God. - Yours very +sincerely, + +ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. + + + +Letter: TO CHARLES BAXTER + + + +VAILIMA PLANTATION, UPOLU, SAMOAN ISLANDS, 18TH JULY 1892. + +MY DEAR CHARLES,- . . . I have been now for some time contending +with powers and principalities, and I have never once seen one of +my own letters to the TIMES. So when you see something in the +papers that you think might interest the exiles of Upolu, do not +think twice, out with your saxpence, and send it flying to Vailima. +Of what you say of the past, eh, man, it was a queer time, and +awful miserable, but there's no sense in denying it was awful fun. +Do you mind the youth in Highland garb and the tableful of coppers? +Do you mind the SIGNAL of Waterloo Place? - Hey, how the blood +stands to the heart at such a memory! - Hae ye the notes o't? +Gie's them. - Gude's sake, man, gie's the notes o't; I mind ye made +a tune o't an' played it on your pinanny; gie's the notes. Dear +Lord, that past. + +Glad to hear Henley's prospects are fair: his new volume is the +work of a real poet. He is one of those who can make a noise of +his own with words, and in whom experience strikes an individual +note. There is perhaps no more genuine poet living, bar the Big +Guns. In case I cannot overtake an acknowledgment to himself by +this mail, please let him hear of my pleasure and admiration. How +poorly - compares! He is all smart journalism and cleverness: it +is all bright and shallow and limpid, like a business paper - a +good one, S'ENTEND; but there is no blot of heart's blood and the +Old Night: there are no harmonics, there is scarce harmony to his +music; and in Henley - all of these; a touch, a sense within sense, +a sound outside the sound, the shadow of the inscrutable, eloquent +beyond all definition. The First London Voluntary knocked me +wholly. - Ever yours affectionately, my dear Charles, + +ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. + +Kind memories to your father and all friends. + + + +Letter: TO W. E. HENLEY + + + +VAILIMA PLANTATION, UPOLU, SAMOA, AUGUST 1ST, 1892. + +MY DEAR HENLEY, - It is impossible to let your new volume pass in +silence. I have not received the same thrill of poetry since G. +M.'s JOY OF EARTH volume and LOVE IN A VALLEY; and I do not know +that even that was so intimate and deep. Again and again, I take +the book down, and read, and my blood is fired as it used to be in +youth. ANDANTE CON MOTO in the VOLUNTARIES, and the thing about +the trees at night (No. XXIV. I think) are up to date my +favourites. I did not guess you were so great a magician; these +are new tunes, this is an undertone of the true Apollo; these are +not verse, they are poetry - inventions, creations, in language. I +thank you for the joy you have given me, and remain your old friend +and present huge admirer, + +ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. + +The hand is really the hand of Esau, but under a course of +threatened scrivener's cramp. + +For the next edition of the Book of Verses, pray accept an +emendation. Last three lines of Echoes No. XLIV. read - + + +'But life in act? How should the grave +Be victor over these, +Mother, a mother of men?' + + +The two vocatives scatter the effect of this inimitable close. If +you insist on the longer line, equip 'grave' with an epithet. + +R. L. S. + + + +Letter: TO E. L. BURLINGAME + + + +VAILIMA, UPOLU, AUGUST 1st, '92. + +MY DEAR BURLINGAME, - Herewith MY GRANDFATHER. I have had rather a +bad time suppressing the old gentleman, who was really in a very +garrulous stage; as for getting him IN ORDER, I could do but little +towards that; however, there are one or two points of interest +which may justify us in printing. The swinging of his stick and +not knowing the sailor of Coruiskin, in particular, and the account +of how he wrote the lives in the Bell Book particularly please me. +I hope my own little introduction is not egoistic; or rather I do +not care if it is. It was that old gentleman's blood that brought +me to Samoa. + +By the by, vols. vii., viii., and ix. of Adams's HISTORY have never +come to hand; no more have the dictionaries. + +Please send me STONEHENGE ON HORSE, STORIES AND INTERLUDES by Barry +Pain, and EDINBURGH SKETCHES AND MEMOIRS by David Masson. THE +WRECKER has turned up. So far as I have seen, it is very +satisfactory, but on pp. 548, 549, there has been a devil of a +miscarriage. The two Latin quotations instead of following each +other being separated (doubtless for printing considerations) by a +line of prose. My compliments to the printers; there is doubtless +such a thing as good printing, but there is such a thing as good +sense. + +The sequel to KIDNAPPED, DAVID BALFOUR by name, is about three- +quarters done and gone to press for serial publication. By what I +can find out it ought to be through hand with that and ready for +volume form early next spring. - Yours very sincerely, + +R. L. S. + + + +Letter: TO ANDREW LANG + + + +[VAILIMA, AUGUST 1892.] + +MY DEAR LANG, - I knew you would prove a trusty purveyor. The +books you have sent are admirable. I got the name of my hero out +of Brown - Blair of Balmyle - Francie Blair. But whether to call +the story BLAIR OF BALMYLE, or whether to call it THE YOUNG +CHEVALIER, I have not yet decided. The admirable Cameronian tract +- perhaps you will think this a cheat - is to be boned into DAVID +BALFOUR, where it will fit better, and really furnishes me with a +desired foothold over a boggy place. + +LATER; no, it won't go in, and I fear I must give up 'the +idolatrous occupant upon the throne,' a phrase that overjoyed me +beyond expression. I am in a deuce of a flutter with politics, +which I hate, and in which I certainly do not shine; but a fellow +cannot stand aside and look on at such an exhibition as our +government. 'Taint decent; no gent can hold a candle to it. But +it's a grind to be interrupted by midnight messengers and pass your +days writing proclamations (which are never proclaimed) and +petitions (which ain't petited) and letters to the TIMES, which it +makes my jaws yawn to re-read, and all your time have your heart +with David Balfour: he has just left Glasgow this morning for +Edinburgh, James More has escaped from the castle; it is far more +real to me than the Behring Sea or the Baring brothers either - he +got the news of James More's escape from the Lord Advocate, and +started off straight to comfort Catriona. You don't know her; +she's James More's daughter, and a respectable young wumman; the +Miss Grants think so - the Lord Advocate's daughters - so there +can't be anything really wrong. Pretty soon we all go to Holland, +and be hanged; thence to Dunkirk, and be damned; and the tale +concludes in Paris, and be Poll-parrotted. This is the last +authentic news. You are not a real hard-working novelist; not a +practical novelist; so you don't know the temptation to let your +characters maunder. Dumas did it, and lived. But it is not war; +it ain't sportsmanlike, and I have to be stopping their chatter all +the time. Brown's appendix is great reading. + + +My only grief is that I can't +Use the idolatrous occupant. + + +Yours ever, + +R. L. S. + +Blessing and praising you for a useful (though idolatrous) occupant +of Kensington. + + + +Letter: TO THE COUNTESS OF JERSEY + + + +AUGUST 14, 1745. + +TO MISS AMELIA BALFOUR - MY DEAR COUSIN, - We are going an +expedition to leeward on Tuesday morning. If a lady were perhaps +to be encountered on horseback - say, towards the Gasi-gasi river - +about six A.M., I think we should have an episode somewhat after +the style of the '45. What a misfortune, my dear cousin, that you +should have arrived while your cousin Graham was occupying my only +guest-chamber - for Osterley Park is not so large in Samoa as it +was at home - but happily our friend Haggard has found a corner for +you! + +The King over the Water - the Gasi-gasi water - will be pleased to +see the clan of Balfour mustering so thick around his standard. + +I have (one serious word) been so lucky as to get a really secret +interpreter, so all is for the best in our little adventure into +the WAVERLEY NOVELS. - I am your affectionate cousin, + +ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. + +Observe the stealth with which I have blotted my signature, but we +must be political A OUTRANCE. + + + +Letter: TO THE COUNTESS OF JERSEY + + + +MY DEAR COUSIN, - I send for your information a copy of my last +letter to the gentleman in question. 'Tis thought more wise, in +consideration of the difficulty and peril of the enterprise, that +we should leave the town in the afternoon, and by several +detachments. If you would start for a ride with the Master of +Haggard and Captain Lockhart of Lee, say at three o'clock of the +afternoon, you would make some rencounters by the wayside which +might be agreeable to your political opinions. All present will be +staunch. + +The Master of Haggard might extend his ride a little, and return +through the marsh and by the nuns' house (I trust that has the +proper flavour), so as a little to diminish the effect of +separation. - I remain, your affectionate cousin to command, + +O TUSITALA. + +P.S. - It is to be thought this present year of grace will be +historical. + + + +Letter: TO MRS. CHARLES FAIRCHILD + + + +[VAILIMA, AUGUST 1892.] + +MY DEAR MRS. FAIRCHILD, - Thank you a thousand times for your +letter. You are the Angel of (the sort of) Information (that I +care about); I appoint you successor to the newspaper press; and I +beg of you, whenever you wish to gird at the age, or think the bugs +out of proportion to the roses, or despair, or enjoy any cosmic or +epochal emotion, to sit down again and write to the Hermit of +Samoa. What do I think of it all? Well, I love the romantic +solemnity of youth; and even in this form, although not without +laughter, I have to love it still. They are such ducks! But what +are they made of? We were just as solemn as that about atheism and +the stars and humanity; but we were all for belief anyway - we held +atheism and sociology (of which none of us, nor indeed anybody, +knew anything) for a gospel and an iron rule of life; and it was +lucky enough, or there would have been more windows broken. What +is apt to puzzle one at first sight in the New Youth is that, with +such rickety and risky problems always at heart, they should not +plunge down a Niagara of Dissolution. But let us remember the high +practical timidity of youth. I was a particularly brave boy - this +I think of myself, looking back - and plunged into adventures and +experiments, and ran risks that it still surprises me to recall. +But, dear me, what a fear I was in of that strange blind machinery +in the midst of which I stood; and with what a compressed heart and +what empty lungs I would touch a new crank and await developments! +I do not mean to say I do not fear life still; I do; and that +terror (for an adventurer like myself) is still one of the chief +joys of living. + +But it was different indeed while I was yet girt with the priceless +robes of inexperience; then the fear was exquisite and infinite. +And so, when you see all these little Ibsens, who seem at once so +dry and so excitable, and faint in swathes over a play (I suppose - +for a wager) that would seem to me merely tedious, smile behind +your hand, and remember the little dears are all in a blue funk. +It must be very funny, and to a spectator like yourself I almost +envy it. But never get desperate; human nature is human nature; +and the Roman Empire, since the Romans founded it and made our +European human nature what it is, bids fair to go on and to be true +to itself. These little bodies will all grow up and become men and +women, and have heaps of fun; nay, and are having it now; and +whatever happens to the fashion of the age, it makes no difference +- there are always high and brave and amusing lives to be lived; +and a change of key, however exotic, does not exclude melody. Even +Chinamen, hard as we find it to believe, enjoy being Chinese. And +the Chinaman stands alone to be unthinkable; natural enough, as the +representative of the only other great civilisation. Take my +people here at my doors; their life is a very good one; it is quite +thinkable, quite acceptable to us. And the little dears will be +soon skating on the other foot; sooner or later, in each +generation, the one-half of them at least begin to remember all the +material they had rejected when first they made and nailed up their +little theory of life; and these become reactionaries or +conservatives, and the ship of man begins to fill upon the other +tack. + +Here is a sermon, by your leave! It is your own fault, you have +amused and interested me so much by your breath of the New Youth, +which comes to me from so far away, where I live up here in my +mountain, and secret messengers bring me letters from rebels, and +the government sometimes seizes them, and generally grumbles in its +beard that Stevenson should really be deported. O, my life is the +more lively, never fear! + +It has recently been most amusingly varied by a visit from Lady +Jersey. I took her over mysteriously (under the pseudonym of my +cousin, Miss Amelia Balfour) to visit Mataafa, our rebel; and we +had great fun, and wrote a Ouida novel on our life here, in which +every author had to describe himself in the Ouida glamour, and of +which - for the Jerseys intend printing it - I must let you have a +copy. My wife's chapter, and my description of myself, should, I +think, amuse you. But there were finer touches still; as when +Belle and Lady Jersey came out to brush their teeth in front of the +rebel King's palace, and the night guard squatted opposite on the +grass and watched the process; or when I and my interpreter, and +the King with his secretary, mysteriously disappeared to conspire. +- Ever yours sincerely, + +R. L. STEVENSON. + + + +Letter: TO GORDON BROWNE + + + +VAILIMA, SAMOA, AUTUMN 1892. +TO THE ARTIST WHO DID THE ILLUSTRATIONS TO 'UMA.' + +DEAR SIR, - I only know you under the initials G. B., but you have +done some exceedingly spirited and satisfactory illustrations to my +story THE BEACH OF FALESA, and I wish to write and thank you +expressly for the care and talent shown. Such numbers of people +can do good black and whites! So few can illustrate a story, or +apparently read it. You have shown that you can do both, and your +creation of Wiltshire is a real illumination of the text. It was +exactly so that Wiltshire dressed and looked, and you have the line +of his nose to a nicety. His nose is an inspiration. Nor should I +forget to thank you for Case, particularly in his last appearance. +It is a singular fact - which seems to point still more directly to +inspiration in your case - that your missionary actually resembles +the flesh-and-blood person from whom Mr. Tarleton was drawn. The +general effect of the islands is all that could be wished; indeed I +have but one criticism to make, that in the background of Case +taking the dollar from Mr. Tarleton's head - head - not hand, as +the fools have printed it - the natives have a little too much the +look of Africans. + +But the great affair is that you have been to the pains to +illustrate my story instead of making conscientious black and +whites of people sitting talking. I doubt if you have left +unrepresented a single pictorial incident. I am writing by this +mail to the editor in the hopes that I may buy from him the +originals, and I am, dear sir, your very much obliged, + +ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. + + + +Letter: TO MISS MORSE + + + +VAILIMA, SAMOAN ISLANDS, OCTOBER 7TH, 1892. + +DEAR MADAM, - I have a great diffidence in answering your valued +letter. It would be difficult for me to express the feelings with +which I read it - and am now trying to re-read it as I dictate +this. + +You ask me to forgive what you say 'must seem a liberty,' and I +find that I cannot thank you sufficiently or even find a word with +which to qualify your letter. Dear Madam, such a communication +even the vainest man would think a sufficient reward for a lifetime +of labour. That I should have been able to give so much help and +pleasure to your sister is the subject of my grateful wonder. + +That she, being dead, and speaking with your pen, should be able to +repay the debt with such a liberal interest, is one of those things +that reconcile us with the world and make us take hope again. I do +not know what I have done to deserve so beautiful and touching a +compliment; and I feel there is but one thing fit for me to say +here, that I will try with renewed courage to go on in the same +path, and to deserve, if not to receive, a similar return from +others. + +You apologise for speaking so much about yourselves. Dear Madam, I +thought you did so too little. I should have wished to have known +more of those who were so sympathetic as to find a consolation in +my work, and so graceful and so tactful as to acknowledge it in +such a letter as was yours. + +Will you offer to your mother the expression of a sympathy which +(coming from a stranger) must seem very airy, but which yet is +genuine; and accept for yourself my gratitude for the thought which +inspired you to write to me and the words which you found to +express it. + +ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. + + + +Letter: TO E. L. BURLINGAME + + + +VAILIMA PLANTATION, SAMOAN ISLANDS, OCT. 10TH, 1892. + +MY DEAR BURLINGAME, - It is now, as you see, the 10th of October, +and there has not reached the Island of Upolu one single copy, or +rag of a copy, of the Samoa book. I lie; there has come one, and +that in the pocket of a missionary man who is at daggers drawn with +me, who lends it to all my enemies, conceals it from all my +friends, and is bringing a lawsuit against me on the strength of +expressions in the same which I have forgotten, and now cannot see. +This is pretty tragic, I think you will allow; and I was inclined +to fancy it was the fault of the Post Office. But I hear from my +sister-in-law Mrs. Sanchez that she is in the same case, and has +received no 'Footnote.' I have also to consider that I had no +letter from you last mail, although you ought to have received by +that time 'My Grandfather and Scott,' and 'Me and my Grandfather.' +Taking one consideration with another, therefore, I prefer to +conceive that No. 743 Broadway has fallen upon gentle and +continuous slumber, and is become an enchanted palace among +publishing houses. If it be not so, if the 'Footnotes' were really +sent, I hope you will fall upon the Post Office with all the vigour +you possess. How does THE WRECKER go in the States? It seems to +be doing exceptionally well in England. - Yours sincerely, + +ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. + + + +Letter: TO J. M. BARRIE + + + +VAILIMA PLANTATION, SAMOAN ISLANDS, NOVEMBER 1ST, 1892. + +DEAR MR. BARRIE, - I can scarce thank you sufficiently for your +extremely amusing letter. No, THE AULD LICHT IDYLS never reached +me - I wish it had, and I wonder extremely whether it would not be +good for me to have a pennyworth of the Auld Licht pulpit. It is a +singular thing that I should live here in the South Seas under +conditions so new and so striking, and yet my imagination so +continually inhabit that cold old huddle of grey hills from which +we come. I have just finished DAVID BALFOUR; I have another book +on the stocks, THE YOUNG CHEVALIER, which is to be part in France +and part in Scotland, and to deal with Prince Charlie about the +year 1749; and now what have I done but begun a third which is to +be all moorland together, and is to have for a centrepiece a figure +that I think you will appreciate - that of the immortal Braxfield - +Braxfield himself is my GRAND PREMIER, or, since you are so much +involved in the British drama, let me say my heavy lead. . . . + +Your descriptions of your dealings with Lord Rintoul are +frightfully unconscientious. You should never write about anybody +until you persuade yourself at least for the moment that you love +him, above all anybody on whom your plot revolves. It will always +make a hole in the book; and, if he has anything to do with the +mechanism, prove a stick in your machinery. But you know all this +better than I do, and it is one of your most promising traits that +you do not take your powers too seriously. The LITTLE MINISTER +ought to have ended badly; we all know it did; and we are +infinitely grateful to you for the grace and good feeling with +which you lied about it. If you had told the truth, I for one +could never have forgiven you. As you had conceived and written +the earlier parts, the truth about the end, though indisputably +true to fact, would have been a lie, or what is worse, a discord in +art. If you are going to make a book end badly, it must end badly +from the beginning. Now your book began to end well. You let +yourself fall in love with, and fondle, and smile at your puppets. +Once you had done that, your honour was committed - at the cost of +truth to life you were bound to save them. It is the blot on +RICHARD FEVEREL, for instance, that it begins to end well; and then +tricks you and ends ill. But in that case there is worse behind, +for the ill-ending does not inherently issue from the plot - the +story HAD, in fact, ENDED WELL after the great last interview +between Richard and Lucy - and the blind, illogical bullet which +smashes all has no more to do between the boards than a fly has to +do with the room into whose open window it comes buzzing. It MIGHT +have so happened; it needed not; and unless needs must, we have no +right to pain our readers. I have had a heavy case of conscience +of the same kind about my Braxfield story. Braxfield - only his +name is Hermiston - has a son who is condemned to death; plainly, +there is a fine tempting fitness about this; and I meant he was to +hang. But now on considering my minor characters, I saw there were +five people who would - in a sense who must - break prison and +attempt his rescue. They were capable, hardy folks, too, who might +very well succeed. Why should they not then? Why should not young +Hermiston escape clear out of the country? and be happy, if he +could, with his - But soft! I will not betray my secret of my +heroine. Suffice it to breathe in your ear that she was what Hardy +calls (and others in their plain way don't) a Pure Woman. Much +virtue in a capital letter, such as yours was. + +Write to me again in my infinite distance. Tell me about your new +book. No harm in telling ME; I am too far off to be indiscreet; +there are too few near me who would care to hear. I am rushes by +the riverside, and the stream is in Babylon: breathe your secrets +to me fearlessly; and if the Trade Wind caught and carried them +away, there are none to catch them nearer than Australia, unless it +were the Tropic Birds. In the unavoidable absence of my +amanuensis, who is buying eels for dinner, I have thus concluded my +despatch, like St. Paul, with my own hand. + +And in the inimitable words of Lord Kames, Faur ye weel, ye bitch. +- Yours very truly, + +ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. + + + +Letter: TO E. L. BURLINGAME + + + +VAILIMA PLANTATION, NOV. 2ND, 1892. + +MY DEAR BURLINGAME, - In the first place, I have to acknowledge +receipt of your munificent cheque for three hundred and fifty +dollars. Glad you liked the Scott voyage; rather more than I did +upon the whole. As the proofs have not turned up at all, there can +be no question of returning them, and I am therefore very much +pleased to think you have arranged not to wait. The volumes of +Adams arrived along with yours of October 6th. One of the +dictionaries has also blundered home, apparently from the Colonies; +the other is still to seek. I note and sympathise with your +bewilderment as to FALESA. My own direct correspondence with Mr. +Baxter is now about three months in abeyance. Altogether you see +how well it would be if you could do anything to wake up the Post +Office. Not a single copy of the 'Footnote' has yet reached Samoa, +but I hear of one having come to its address in Hawaii. Glad to +hear good news of Stoddard. - Yours sincerely, + +R. L. STEVENSON. + +P.S. - Since the above was written an aftermath of post matter came +in, among which were the proofs of MY GRANDFATHER. I shall correct +and return them, but as I have lost all confidence in the Post +Office, I shall mention here: first galley, 4th line from the +bottom, for 'AS' read 'OR.' + +Should I ever again have to use my work without waiting for proofs, +bear in mind this golden principle. From a congenital defect, I +must suppose, I am unable to write the word OR - wherever I write +it the printer unerringly puts AS - and those who read for me had +better, wherever it is possible, substitute OR for AS. This the +more so since many writers have a habit of using AS which is death +to my temper and confusion to my face. + +R. L. S. + + + +Letter: TO LIEUTENANT EELES + + + +VAILIMA PLANTATION, UPOLU, SAMOAN ISLANDS, NOVEMBER 15TH, 1892. + +DEAR EELES, - In the first place, excuse me writing to you by +another hand, as that is the way in which alone all my +correspondence gets effected. Before I took to this method, or +rather before I found a victim, it SIMPLY didn't get effected. + +Thank you again and again, first for your kind thought of writing +to me, and second for your extremely amusing and interesting +letter. You can have no guess how immediately interesting it was +to our family. First of all, the poor soul at Nukufetau is an old +friend of ours, and we have actually treated him ourselves on a +former visit to the island. I don't know if Hoskin would approve +of our treatment; it consisted, I believe, mostly in a present of +stout and a recommendation to put nails in his water-tank. We also +(as you seem to have done) recommended him to leave the island; and +I remember very well how wise and kind we thought his answer. He +had half-caste children (he said) who would suffer and perhaps be +despised if he carried them elsewhere; if he left them there alone, +they would almost certainly miscarry; and the best thing was that +he should stay and die with them. But the cream of the fun was +your meeting with Burn. We not only know him, but (as the French +say) we don't know anybody else; he is our intimate and adored +original; and - prepare your mind - he was, is, and ever will be, +TOMMY HADDON! As I don't believe you to be inspired, I suspect you +to have suspected this. At least it was a mighty happy suspicion. +You are quite right: Tommy is really 'a good chap,' though about +as comic as they make them. + +I was extremely interested in your Fiji legend, and perhaps even +more so in your capital account of the CURACOA'S misadventure. +Alas! we have nothing so thrilling to relate. All hangs and fools +on in this isle of misgovernment, without change, though not +without novelty, but wholly without hope, unless perhaps you should +consider it hopeful that I am still more immediately threatened +with arrest. The confounded thing is, that if it comes off, I +shall be sent away in the Ringarooma instead of the CURACOA. The +former ship burst upon by the run - she had been sent off by +despatch and without orders - and to make me a little more easy in +my mind she brought newspapers clamouring for my incarceration. +Since then I have had a conversation with the German Consul. He +said he had read a review of my Samoa book, and if the review were +fair, must regard it as an insult, and one that would have to be +resented. At the same time, I learn that letters addressed to the +German squadron lie for them here in the Post Office. Reports are +current of other English ships being on the way - I hope to +goodness yours will be among the number. And I gather from one +thing and another that there must be a holy row going on between +the powers at home, and that the issue (like all else connected +with Samoa) is on the knees of the gods. One thing, however, is +pretty sure - if that issue prove to be a German Protectorate, I +shall have to tramp. Can you give us any advice as to a fresh +field of energy? We have been searching the atlas, and it seems +difficult to fill the bill. How would Rarotonga do? I forget if +you have been there. The best of it is that my new house is going +up like winking, and I am dictating this letter to the +accompaniment of saws and hammers. A hundred black boys and about +a score draught-oxen perished, or at least barely escaped with +their lives, from the mud-holes on our road, bringing up the +materials. It will be a fine legacy to H.I.G.M.'s Protectorate, +and doubtless the Governor will take it for his country-house. The +Ringarooma people, by the way, seem very nice. I liked Stansfield +particularly. + +Our middy has gone up to San Francisco in pursuit of the phantom +Education. We have good word of him, and I hope he will not be in +disgrace again, as he was when the hope of the British Navy - need +I say that I refer to Admiral Burney? - honoured us last. The next +time you come, as the new house will be finished, we shall be able +to offer you a bed. Nares and Meiklejohn may like to hear that our +new room is to be big enough to dance in. It will be a very +pleasant day for me to see the Curacoa in port again and at least a +proper contingent of her officers 'skipping in my 'all.' + +We have just had a feast on my birthday at which we had three of +the Ringaromas, and I wish they had been three CURACOAS - say +yourself, Hoskin, and Burney the ever Great. (Consider this an +invitation.) Our boys had got the thing up regardless. There were +two huge sows - oh, brutes of animals that would have broken down a +hansom cab - four smaller pigs, two barrels of beef, and a horror +of vegetables and fowls. We sat down between forty and fifty in a +big new native house behind the kitchen that you have never seen, +and ate and public spoke till all was blue. Then we had about half +an hour's holiday with some beer and sherry and brandy and soda to +restrengthen the European heart, and then out to the old native +house to see a siva. Finally, all the guests were packed off in a +trackless black night and down a road that was rather fitted for +the CURACOA than any human pedestrian, though to be sure I do not +know the draught of the CURACOA. My ladies one and all desire to +be particularly remembered to our friends on board, and all look +forward, as I do myself, in the hope of your return. - Yours +sincerely, + +ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. + +And let me hear from you again! + + + +Letter: TO CHARLES BAXTER + + + +1ST DEC. '92. + +. . . I have a novel on the stocks to be called THE JUSTICE-CLERK. +It is pretty Scotch, the Grand Premier is taken from Braxfield - +(Oh, by the by, send me Cockburn's MEMORIALS) - and some of the +story is - well - queer. The heroine is seduced by one man, and +finally disappears with the other man who shot him. . . . Mind you, +I expect the JUSTICE-CLERK to be my masterpiece. My Braxfield is +already a thing of beauty and a joy for ever, and so far as he has +gone FAR my best character. + +[LATER.] + +Second thought. I wish Pitcairn's CRIMINAL TRIALS QUAM PRIMUM. +Also, an absolutely correct text of the Scots judiciary oath. + +Also, in case Pitcairn does not come down late enough, I wish as +full a report as possible of a Scotch murder trial between 1790- +1820. Understand, THE FULLEST POSSIBLE. + +Is there any book which would guide me as to the following facts? + +The Justice-Clerk tries some people capitally on circuit. Certain +evidence cropping up, the charge is transferred to the J.-C.'s own +son. Of course, in the next trial the J.-C. is excluded, and the +case is called before the Lord-Justice General. + +Where would this trial have to be? I fear in Edinburgh, which +would not suit my view. Could it be again at the circuit town? + +ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. + + + +Letter: TO MRS. JENKIN + + + +DECEMBER 5TH, 1892. + +MY DEAR MRS. JENKIN, - . . . So much said, I come with guilty speed +to what more immediately concerns myself. Spare us a month or two +for old sake's sake, and make my wife and me happy and proud. We +are only fourteen days from San Francisco, just about a month from +Liverpool; we have our new house almost finished. The thing CAN be +done; I believe we can make you almost comfortable. It is the +loveliest climate in the world, our political troubles seem near an +end. It can be done, it must! Do, please, make a virtuous effort, +come and take a glimpse of a new world I am sure you do not dream +of, and some old friends who do often dream of your arrival. + +Alas, I was just beginning to get eloquent, and there goes the +lunch bell, and after lunch I must make up the mail. + +Do come. You must not come in February or March - bad months. +From April on it is delightful. - Your sincere friend, + +ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. + + + +Letter: TO HENRY JAMES + + + +DECEMBER 5TH, 1892. + +MY DEAR JAMES, - How comes it so great a silence has fallen? The +still small voice of self-approval whispers me it is not from me. +I have looked up my register, and find I have neither written to +you nor heard from you since June 22nd, on which day of grace that +invaluable work began. This is not as it should be. How to get +back? I remember acknowledging with rapture the - of the MASTER, +and I remember receiving MARBOT: was that our last relation? + +Hey, well! anyway, as you may have probably gathered from the +papers, I have been in devilish hot water, and (what may be new to +you) devilish hard at work. In twelve calendar months I finished +THE WRECKER, wrote all of FALESA but the first chapter (well, much +of), the HISTORY OF SAMOA, did something here and there to my LIFE +OF MY GRANDFATHER, and began And Finished DAVID BALFOUR. What do +you think of it for a year? Since then I may say I have done +nothing beyond draft three chapters of another novel, THE JUSTICE- +CLERK, which ought to be shorter and a blower - at least if it +don't make a spoon, it will spoil the horn of an Aurochs (if that's +how it should be spelt). + +On the hot water side it may entertain you to know that I have been +actually sentenced to deportation by my friends on Mulinuu, C. J. +Cedercrantz, and Baron Senfft von Pilsach. The awful doom, +however, declined to fall, owing to Circumstances over Which. I +only heard of it (so to speak) last night. I mean officially, but +I had walked among rumours. The whole tale will be some day put +into my hand, and I shall share it with humorous friends. + +It is likely, however, by my judgment, that this epoch of gaiety in +Samoa will soon cease; and the fierce white light of history will +beat no longer on Yours Sincerely and his fellows here on the +beach. We ask ourselves whether the reason will more rejoice over +the end of a disgraceful business, or the unregenerate man more +sorrow over the stoppage of the fun. For, say what you please, it +has been a deeply interesting time. You don't know what news is, +nor what politics, nor what the life of man, till you see it on so +small a scale and with your own liberty on the board for stake. I +would not have missed it for much. And anxious friends beg me to +stay at home and study human nature in Brompton drawing-rooms! +FARCEURS! And anyway you know that such is not my talent. I could +never be induced to take the faintest interest in Brompton QUA +Brompton or a drawing-room QUA a drawing-room. I am an Epick +Writer with a k to it, but without the necessary genius. + +Hurry up with another book of stories. I am now reduced to two of +my contemporaries, you and Barrie - O, and Kipling - you and Barrie +and Kipling are now my Muses Three. And with Kipling, as you know, +there are reservations to be made. And you and Barrie don't write +enough. I should say I also read Anstey when he is serious, and +can almost always get a happy day out of Marion Crawford - CE N'EST +PAS TOUJOURS LA GUERRE, but it's got life to it and guts, and it +moves. Did you read the WITCH OF PRAGUE? Nobody could read it +twice, of course; and the first time even it was necessary to skip. +E PUR SI MUOVE. But Barrie is a beauty, the LITTLE MINISTER and +the WINDOW IN THRUMS, eh? Stuff in that young man; but he must see +and not be too funny. Genius in him, but there's a journalist at +his elbow - there's the risk. Look, what a page is the glove +business in the WINDOW! knocks a man flat; that's guts, if you +please. + +Why have I wasted the little time that is left with a sort of naked +review article? I don't know, I'm sure. I suppose a mere +ebullition of congested literary talk I am beginning to think a +visit from friends would be due. Wish you could come! + +Let us have your news anyway, and forgive this silly stale +effusion. - Yours ever, + +ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. + + + +Letter: TO J. M. BARRIE + + + +[VAILIMA, DECEMBER 1892.] + +DEAR J. M. BARRIE, - You will be sick of me soon; I cannot help it. +I have been off my work for some time, and re-read the EDINBURGH +ELEVEN, and had a great mind to write a parody and give you all +your sauce back again, and see how you would like it yourself. And +then I read (for the first time - I know not how) the WINDOW IN +THRUMS; I don't say that it is better than THE MINISTER; it's less +of a tale - and there is a beauty, a material beauty, of the tale +IPSE, which clever critics nowadays long and love to forget; it has +more real flaws; but somehow it is - well, I read it last anyway, +and it's by Barrie. And he's the man for my money. The glove is a +great page; it is startlingly original, and as true as death and +judgment. Tibbie Birse in the Burial is great, but I think it was +a journalist that got in the word 'official.' The same character +plainly had a word to say to Thomas Haggard. Thomas affects me as +a lie - I beg your pardon; doubtless he was somebody you knew, that +leads people so far astray. The actual is not the true. + +I am proud to think you are a Scotchman - though to be sure I know +nothing of that country, being only an English tourist, quo' Gavin +Ogilvy. I commend the hard case of Mr. Gavin Ogilvy to J. M. +Barrie, whose work is to me a source of living pleasure and +heartfelt national pride. There are two of us now that the Shirra +might have patted on the head. And please do not think when I thus +seem to bracket myself with you, that I am wholly blinded with +vanity. Jess is beyond my frontier line; I could not touch her +skirt; I have no such glamour of twilight on my pen. I am a +capable artist; but it begins to look to me as if you were a man of +genius. Take care of yourself, for my sake. It's a devilish hard +thing for a man who writes so many novels as I do, that I should +get so few to read. And I can read yours, and I love them. + +A pity for you that my amanuensis is not on stock to-day, and my +own hand perceptibly worse than usual. - Yours, + +ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. + +DECEMBER 5TH, 1892. + +P.S. - They tell me your health is not strong. Man, come out here +and try the Prophet's chamber. There's only one bad point to us - +we do rise early. The Amanuensis states that you are a lover of +silence - and that ours is a noisy house - and she is a chatterbox +- I am not answerable for these statements, though I do think there +is a touch of garrulity about my premises. We have so little to +talk about, you see. The house is three miles from town, in the +midst of great silent forests. There is a burn close by, and when +we are not talking you can hear the burn, and the birds, and the +sea breaking on the coast three miles away and six hundred feet +below us, and about three times a month a bell - I don't know where +the bell is, nor who rings it; it may be the bell in Hans +Andersen's story for all I know. It is never hot here - 86 in the +shade is about our hottest - and it is never cold except just in +the early mornings. Take it for all in all, I suppose this island +climate to be by far the healthiest in the world - even the +influenza entirely lost its sting. Only two patients died, and one +was a man nearly eighty, and the other a child below four months. +I won't tell you if it is beautiful, for I want you to come here +and see for yourself. Everybody on the premises except my wife has +some Scotch blood in their veins - I beg your pardon - except the +natives - and then my wife is a Dutchwoman - and the natives are +the next thing conceivable to Highlanders before the forty-five. +We would have some grand cracks! + +R. L. S. + +COME, it will broaden your mind, and be the making of me. + + + + +CHAPTER XII - LIFE IN SAMOA, CONTINUED, JANUARY 1893-DECEMBER 1894 + + + + +Letter: TO CHARLES BAXTER + + + +[APRIL, 1893.] + +. . . About THE JUSTICE-CLERK, I long to go at it, but will first +try to get a short story done. Since January I have had two severe +illnesses, my boy, and some heart-breaking anxiety over Fanny; and +am only now convalescing. I came down to dinner last night for the +first time, and that only because the service had broken down, and +to relieve an inexperienced servant. Nearly four months now I have +rested my brains; and if it be true that rest is good for brains, I +ought to be able to pitch in like a giant refreshed. Before the +autumn, I hope to send you some JUSTICE-CLERK, or WEIR OF +HERMISTON, as Colvin seems to prefer; I own to indecision. +Received SYNTAX, DANCE OF DEATH, and PITCAIRN, which last I have +read from end to end since its arrival, with vast improvement. +What a pity it stops so soon! I wonder is there nothing that seems +to prolong the series? Why doesn't some young man take it up? How +about my old friend Fountainhall's DECISIONS? I remember as a boy +that there was some good reading there. Perhaps you could borrow +me that, and send it on loan; and perhaps Laing's MEMORIALS +therewith; and a work I'm ashamed to say I have never read, +BALFOUR'S LETTERS. . . . I have come by accident, through a +correspondent, on one very curious and interesting fact - namely, +that Stevenson was one of the names adopted by the MacGregors at +the proscription. The details supplied by my correspondent are +both convincing and amusing; but it would be highly interesting to +find out more of this. + +R. L. S. + + + +Letter: TO A. CONAN DOYLE + + + +VAILIMA, APIA, SAMOA, APRIL 5TH, 1893. + +DEAR SIR, - You have taken many occasions to make yourself very +agreeable to me, for which I might in decency have thanked you +earlier. It is now my turn; and I hope you will allow me to offer +you my compliments on your very ingenious and very interesting +adventures of Sherlock Holmes. That is the class of literature +that I like when I have the toothache. As a matter of fact, it was +a pleurisy I was enjoying when I took the volume up; and it will +interest you as a medical man to know that the cure was for the +moment effectual. Only the one thing troubles me: can this be my +old friend Joe Bell? - I am, yours very truly, + +ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. + +P.S. - And lo, here is your address supplied me here in Samoa! But +do not take mine, O frolic fellow Spookist, from the same source; +mine is wrong. + +R. L. S. + + + +Letter: TO S. R. CROCKETT + + + +VAILIMA, SAMOA, MAY 17TH, 1893. + +DEAR MR. CROCKETT, - I do not owe you two letters, nor yet nearly +one, sir! The last time I heard of you, you wrote about an +accident, and I sent you a letter to my lawyer, Charles Baxter, +which does not seem to have been presented, as I see nothing of it +in his accounts. Query, was that lost? I should not like you to +think I had been so unmannerly and so inhuman. If you have written +since, your letter also has miscarried, as is much the rule in this +part of the world, unless you register. + +Your book is not yet to hand, but will probably follow next month. +I detected you early in the BOOKMAN, which I usually see, and noted +you in particular as displaying a monstrous ingratitude about the +footnote. Well, mankind is ungrateful; 'Man's ingratitude to man +makes countless thousands mourn,' quo' Rab - or words to that +effect. By the way, an anecdote of a cautious sailor: 'Bill, +Bill,' says I to him, 'OR WORDS TO THAT EFFECT.' + +I shall never take that walk by the Fisher's Tryst and Glencorse. +I shall never see Auld Reekie. I shall never set my foot again +upon the heather. Here I am until I die, and here will I be +buried. The word is out and the doom written. Or, if I do come, +it will be a voyage to a further goal, and in fact a suicide; +which, however, if I could get my family all fixed up in the money +way, I might, perhaps, perform, or attempt. But there is a plaguey +risk of breaking down by the way; and I believe I shall stay here +until the end comes like a good boy, as I am. If I did it, I +should put upon my trunks: 'Passenger to - Hades.' How strangely +wrong your information is! In the first place, I should never +carry a novel to Sydney; I should post it from here. In the second +place, WEIR OF HERMISTON is as yet scarce begun. It's going to be +excellent, no doubt; but it consists of about twenty pages. I have +a tale, a shortish tale in length, but it has proved long to do, +THE EBB TIDE, some part of which goes home this mail. It is by me +and Mr. Osbourne, and is really a singular work. There are only +four characters, and three of them are bandits - well, two of them +are, and the third is their comrade and accomplice. It sounds +cheering, doesn't it? Barratry, and drunkenness, and vitriol, and +I cannot tell you all what, are the beams of the roof. And yet - I +don't know - I sort of think there's something in it. You'll see +(which is more than I ever can) whether Davis and Attwater come off +or not. + +WEIR OF HERMISTON is a much greater undertaking, and the plot is +not good, I fear; but Lord Justice-Clerk Hermiston ought to be a +plum. Of other schemes, more or less executed, it skills not to +speak. + +I am glad to hear so good an account of your activity and +interests, and shall always hear from you with pleasure; though I +am, and must continue, a mere sprite of the inkbottle, unseen in +the flesh. Please remember me to your wife and to the four-year- +old sweetheart, if she be not too engrossed with higher matters. +Do you know where the road crosses the burn under Glencorse Church? +Go there, and say a prayer for me: MORITURUS SALUTAT. See that +it's a sunny day; I would like it to be a Sunday, but that's not +possible in the premises; and stand on the right-hand bank just +where the road goes down into the water, and shut your eyes, and if +I don't appear to you! well, it can't be helped, and will be +extremely funny. + +I have no concern here but to work and to keep an eye on this +distracted people. I live just now wholly alone in an upper room +of my house, because the whole family are down with influenza, bar +my wife and myself. I get my horse up sometimes in the afternoon +and have a ride in the woods; and I sit here and smoke and write, +and rewrite, and destroy, and rage at my own impotence, from six in +the morning till eight at night, with trifling and not always +agreeable intervals for meals. + +I am sure you chose wisely to keep your country charge. There a +minister can be something, not in a town. In a town, the most of +them are empty houses - and public speakers. Why should you +suppose your book will be slated because you have no friends? A +new writer, if he is any good, will be acclaimed generally with +more noise than he deserves. But by this time you will know for +certain. - I am, yours sincerely, + +ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. + +P.S. - Be it known to this fluent generation that I R. L. S., in +the forty-third of my age and the twentieth of my professional +life, wrote twenty-four pages in twenty-one days, working from six +to eleven, and again in the afternoon from two to four or so, +without fail or interruption. Such are the gifts the gods have +endowed us withal: such was the facility of this prolific writer! + +R. L. S. + + + +Letter: TO AUGUSTUS ST. GAUDENS + + + +VAILIMA, SAMOA, MAY 29TH, 1893 + +MY DEAR GOD-LIKE SCULPTOR, - I wish in the most delicate manner in +the world to insinuate a few commissions:- + +No. 1. Is for a couple of copies of my medallion, as gilt-edged and +high-toned as it is possible to make them. One is for our house +here, and should be addressed as above. The other is for my friend +Sidney Colvin, and should be addressed - Sidney Colvin, Esq., +Keeper of the Print Room, British Museum, London. + +No. 2. This is a rather large order, and demands some explanation. +Our house is lined with varnished wood of a dark ruddy colour, very +beautiful to see; at the same time, it calls very much for gold; +there is a limit to picture frames, and really you know there has +to be a limit to the pictures you put inside of them. Accordingly, +we have had an idea of a certain kind of decoration, which, I +think, you might help us to make practical. What we want is an +alphabet of gilt letters (very much such as people play with), and +all mounted on spikes like drawing-pins; say two spikes to each +letter, one at top, and one at bottom. Say that they were this +height, + + I + I + I + +and that you chose a model of some really exquisitely fine, clear +type from some Roman monument, and that they were made either of +metal or some composition gilt - the point is, could not you, in +your land of wooden houses, get a manufacturer to take the idea and +manufacture them at a venture, so that I could get two or three +hundred pieces or so at a moderate figure? You see, suppose you +entertain an honoured guest, when he goes he leaves his name in +gilt letters on your walls; an infinity of fun and decoration can +be got out of hospitable and festive mottoes; and the doors of +every room can be beautified by the legend of their names. I +really think there is something in the idea, and you might be able +to push it with the brutal and licentious manufacturer, using my +name if necessary, though I should think the name of the god-like +sculptor would be more germane. In case you should get it started, +I should tell you that we should require commas in order to write +the Samoan language, which is full of words written thus: la'u, +ti'e ti'e. As the Samoan language uses but a very small proportion +of the consonants, we should require a double or treble stock of +all vowels and of F, G, L, U, N, P, S, T, and V. + +The other day in Sydney, I think you might be interested to hear, I +was sculpt a second time by a man called -, as well as I can +remember and read. I mustn't criticise a present, and he had very +little time to do it in. It is thought by my family to be an +excellent likeness of Mark Twain. This poor fellow, by the by, met +with the devil of an accident. A model of a statue which he had +just finished with a desperate effort was smashed to smithereens on +its way to exhibition. + +Please be sure and let me know if anything is likely to come of +this letter business, and the exact cost of each letter, so that I +may count the cost before ordering. - Yours sincerely, + +ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. + + + +Letter: TO EDMUND GOSSE + + + +JUNE 10TH, 1893. + +MY DEAR GOSSE, - My mother tells me you never received the very +long and careful letter that I sent you more than a year ago; or is +it two years? + +I was indeed so much surprised at your silence that I wrote to +Henry James and begged him to inquire if you had received it; his +reply was an (if possible) higher power of the same silence; +whereupon I bowed my head and acquiesced. But there is no doubt +the letter was written and sent; and I am sorry it was lost, for it +contained, among other things, an irrecoverable criticism of your +father's LIFE, with a number of suggestions for another edition, +which struck me at the time as excellent. + +Well, suppose we call that cried off, and begin as before? It is +fortunate indeed that we can do so, being both for a while longer +in the day. But, alas! when I see 'works of the late J. A. S.,' I +can see no help and no reconciliation possible. I wrote him a +letter, I think, three years ago, heard in some roundabout way that +he had received it, waited in vain for an answer (which had +probably miscarried), and in a humour between frowns and smiles +wrote to him no more. And now the strange, poignant, pathetic, +brilliant creature is gone into the night, and the voice is silent +that uttered so much excellent discourse; and I am sorry that I did +not write to him again. Yet I am glad for him; light lie the turf! +The SATURDAY is the only obituary I have seen, and I thought it +very good upon the whole. I should be half tempted to write an IN +MEMORIAM, but I am submerged with other work. Are you going to do +it? I very much admire your efforts that way; you are our only +academician. + +So you have tried fiction? I will tell you the truth: when I saw +it announced, I was so sure you would send it to me, that I did not +order it! But the order goes this mail, and I will give you news +of it. Yes, honestly, fiction is very difficult; it is a terrible +strain to CARRY your characters all that time. And the difficulty +of according the narrative and the dialogue (in a work in the third +person) is extreme. That is one reason out of half a dozen why I +so often prefer the first. It is much in my mind just now, because +of my last work, just off the stocks three days ago, THE EBB TIDE: +a dreadful, grimy business in the third person, where the strain +between a vilely realistic dialogue and a narrative style pitched +about (in phrase) 'four notes higher' than it should have been, has +sown my head with grey hairs; or I believe so - if my head escaped, +my heart has them. + +The truth is, I have a little lost my way, and stand bemused at the +cross-roads. A subject? Ay, I have dozens; I have at least four +novels begun, they are none good enough; and the mill waits, and +I'll have to take second best. THE EBB TIDE I make the world a +present of; I expect, and, I suppose, deserve to be torn to pieces; +but there was all that good work lying useless, and I had to finish +it! + +All your news of your family is pleasant to hear. My wife has been +very ill, but is now better; I may say I am ditto, THE EBB TIDE +having left me high and dry, which is a good example of the mixed +metaphor. Our home, and estate, and our boys, and the politics of +the island, keep us perpetually amused and busy; and I grind away +with an odd, dogged, down sensation - and an idea IN PETTO that the +game is about played out. I have got too realistic, and I must +break the trammels - I mean I would if I could; but the yoke is +heavy. I saw with amusement that Zola says the same thing; and +truly the DEBACLE was a mighty big book, I have no need for a +bigger, though the last part is a mere mistake in my opinion. But +the Emperor, and Sedan, and the doctor at the ambulance, and the +horses in the field of battle, Lord, how gripped it is! What an +epical performance! According to my usual opinion, I believe I +could go over that book and leave a masterpiece by blotting and no +ulterior art. But that is an old story, ever new with me. Taine +gone, and Renan, and Symonds, and Tennyson, and Browning; the suns +go swiftly out, and I see no suns to follow, nothing but a +universal twilight of the demi-divinities, with parties like you +and me and Lang beating on toy drums and playing on penny whistles +about glow-worms. But Zola is big anyway; he has plenty in his +belly; too much, that is all; he wrote the DEBACLE and he wrote LA +BETE HUMAINE, perhaps the most excruciatingly silly book that I +ever read to an end. And why did I read it to an end, W. E. G.? +Because the animal in me was interested in the lewdness. Not +sincerely, of course, my mind refusing to partake in it; but the +flesh was slightly pleased. And when it was done, I cast it from +me with a peal of laughter, and forgot it, as I would forget a +Montepin. Taine is to me perhaps the chief of these losses; I did +luxuriate in his ORIGINES; it was something beyond literature, not +quite so good, if you please, but so much more systematic, and the +pages that had to be 'written' always so adequate. Robespierre, +Napoleon, were both excellent good. + +JUNE 18TH, '93 + +Well, I have left fiction wholly, and gone to my GRANDFATHER, and +on the whole found peace. By next month my GRANDFATHER will begin +to be quite grown up. I have already three chapters about as good +as done; by which, of course, as you know, I mean till further +notice or the next discovery. I like biography far better than +fiction myself: fiction is too free. In biography you have your +little handful of facts, little bits of a puzzle, and you sit and +think, and fit 'em together this way and that, and get up and throw +'em down, and say damn, and go out for a walk. And it's real +soothing; and when done, gives an idea of finish to the writer that +is very peaceful. Of course, it's not really so finished as quite +a rotten novel; it always has and always must have the incurable +illogicalities of life about it, the fathoms of slack and the miles +of tedium. Still, that's where the fun comes in; and when you have +at last managed to shut up the castle spectre (dulness), the very +outside of his door looks beautiful by contrast. There are pages +in these books that may seem nothing to the reader; but you +REMEMBER WHAT THEY WERE, YOU KNOW WHAT THEY MIGHT HAVE BEEN, and +they seem to you witty beyond comparison. In my GRANDFATHER I've +had (for instance) to give up the temporal order almost entirely; +doubtless the temporal order is the great foe of the biographer; it +is so tempting, so easy, and lo! there you are in the bog! - Ever +yours, + +R. L. STEVENSON. + +With all kind messages from self and wife to you and yours. My +wife is very much better, having been the early part of this year +alarmingly ill. She is now all right, only complaining of trifles, +annoying to her, but happily not interesting to her friends. I am +in a hideous state, having stopped drink and smoking; yes, both. +No wine, no tobacco; and the dreadful part of it is that - looking +forward - I have - what shall I say? - nauseating intimations that +it ought to be for ever. + + + +Letter: TO HENRY JAMES + + + +VAILIMA PLANTATION, SAMOAN ISLANDS, JUNE 17TH, 1893. + +MY DEAR HENRY JAMES, - I believe I have neglected a mail in +answering yours. You will be very sorry to hear that my wife was +exceedingly ill, and very glad to hear that she is better. I +cannot say that I feel any more anxiety about her. We shall send +you a photograph of her taken in Sydney in her customary island +habit as she walks and gardens and shrilly drills her brown +assistants. She was very ill when she sat for it, which may a +little explain the appearance of the photograph. It reminds me of +a friend of my grandmother's who used to say when talking to +younger women, 'Aweel, when I was young, I wasnae just exactly what +ye wad call BONNY, but I was pale, penetratin', and interestin'.' +I would not venture to hint that Fanny is 'no bonny,' but there is +no doubt but that in this presentment she is 'pale, penetratin', +and interesting.' + +As you are aware, I have been wading deep waters and contending +with the great ones of the earth, not wholly without success. It +is, you may be interested to hear, a dreary and infuriating +business. If you can get the fools to admit one thing, they will +always save their face by denying another. If you can induce them +to take a step to the right hand, they generally indemnify +themselves by cutting a caper to the left. I always held (upon no +evidence whatever, from a mere sentiment or intuition) that +politics was the dirtiest, the most foolish, and the most random of +human employments. I always held, but now I know it! Fortunately, +you have nothing to do with anything of the kind, and I may spare +you the horror of further details. + +I received from you a book by a man by the name of Anatole France. +Why should I disguise it? I have no use for Anatole. He writes +very prettily, and then afterwards? Baron Marbot was a different +pair of shoes. So likewise is the Baron de Vitrolles, whom I am +now perusing with delight. His escape in 1814 is one of the best +pages I remember anywhere to have read. But Marbot and Vitrolles +are dead, and what has become of the living? It seems as if +literature were coming to a stand. I am sure it is with me; and I +am sure everybody will say so when they have the privilege of +reading THE EBB TIDE. My dear man, the grimness of that story is +not to be depicted in words. There are only four characters, to be +sure, but they are such a troop of swine! And their behaviour is +really so deeply beneath any possible standard, that on a +retrospect I wonder I have been able to endure them myself until +the yarn was finished. Well, there is always one thing; it will +serve as a touchstone. If the admirers of Zola admire him for his +pertinent ugliness and pessimism, I think they should admire this; +but if, as I have long suspected, they neither admire nor +understand the man's art, and only wallow in his rancidness like a +hound in offal, then they will certainly be disappointed in THE EBB +TIDE. ALAS! poor little tale, it is not EVEN rancid. + +By way of an antidote or febrifuge, I am going on at a great rate +with my HISTORY OF THE STEVENSONS, which I hope may prove rather +amusing, in some parts at least. The excess of materials weighs +upon me. My grandfather is a delightful comedy part; and I have to +treat him besides as a serious and (in his way) a heroic figure, +and at times I lose my way, and I fear in the end will blur the +effect. However, A LA GRACE DE DIEU! I'll make a spoon or spoil a +horn. You see, I have to do the Building of the Bell Rock by +cutting down and packing my grandsire's book, which I rather hope I +have done, but do not know. And it makes a huge chunk of a very +different style and quality between Chapters II. and IV. And it +can't be helped! It is just a delightful and exasperating +necessity. You know, the stuff is really excellent narrative: +only, perhaps there's too much of it! There is the rub. Well, +well, it will be plain to you that my mind is affected; it might be +with less. THE EBB TIDE and NORTHERN LIGHTS are a full meal for +any plain man. + +I have written and ordered your last book, THE REAL THING, so be +sure and don't send it. What else are you doing or thinking of +doing? News I have none, and don't want any. I have had to stop +all strong drink and all tobacco, and am now in a transition state +between the two, which seems to be near madness. You never smoked, +I think, so you can never taste the joys of stopping it. But at +least you have drunk, and you can enter perhaps into my annoyance +when I suddenly find a glass of claret or a brandy-and-water give +me a splitting headache the next morning. No mistake about it; +drink anything, and there's your headache. Tobacco just as bad for +me. If I live through this breach of habit, I shall be a white- +livered puppy indeed. Actually I am so made, or so twisted, that I +do not like to think of a life without the red wine on the table +and the tobacco with its lovely little coal of fire. It doesn't +amuse me from a distance. I may find it the Garden of Eden when I +go in, but I don't like the colour of the gate-posts. Suppose +somebody said to you, you are to leave your home, and your books, +and your clubs, and go out and camp in mid-Africa, and command an +expedition, you would howl, and kick, and flee. I think the same +of a life without wine and tobacco; and if this goes on, I've got +to go and do it, sir, in the living flesh! + +I thought Bourget was a friend of yours? And I thought the French +were a polite race? He has taken my dedication with a stately +silence that has surprised me into apoplexy. Did I go and dedicate +my book to the nasty alien, and the 'norrid Frenchman, and the +Bloody Furrineer? Well, I wouldn't do it again; and unless his +case is susceptible of explanation, you might perhaps tell him so +over the walnuts and the wine, by way of speeding the gay hours. +Sincerely, I thought my dedication worth a letter. + +If anything be worth anything here below! Do you know the story of +the man who found a button in his hash, and called the waiter? +'What do you call that?' says he. 'Well,' said the waiter, 'what +d'you expect? Expect to find a gold watch and chain?' Heavenly +apologue, is it not? I expected (rather) to find a gold watch and +chain; I expected to be able to smoke to excess and drink to +comfort all the days of my life; and I am still indignantly staring +on this button! It's not even a button; it's a teetotal badge! - +Ever yours, + +ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. + + + +Letter: TO HENRY JAMES + + + +APIA, JULY 1893. + +MY DEAR HENRY JAMES, - Yes. LES TROPHEES, on the whole, a book. +It is excellent; but is it a life's work? I always suspect YOU of +a volume of sonnets up your sleeve; when is it coming down? I am +in one of my moods of wholesale impatience with all fiction and all +verging on it, reading instead, with rapture, FOUNTAINHALL'S +DECISIONS. You never read it: well, it hasn't much form, and is +inexpressibly dreary, I should suppose, to others - and even to me +for pages. It's like walking in a mine underground, and with a +damned bad lantern, and picking out pieces of ore. This, and war, +will be my excuse for not having read your (doubtless) charming +work of fiction. The revolving year will bring me round to it; and +I know, when fiction shall begin to feel a little SOLID to me +again, that I shall love it, because it's James. Do you know, when +I am in this mood, I would rather try to read a bad book? It's not +so disappointing, anyway. And FOUNTAINHALL is prime, two big folio +volumes, and all dreary, and all true, and all as terse as an +obituary; and about one interesting fact on an average in twenty +pages, and ten of them unintelligible for technicalities. There's +literature, if you like! It feeds; it falls about you genuine like +rain. Rain: nobody has done justice to rain in literature yet: +surely a subject for a Scot. But then you can't do rain in that +ledger-book style that I am trying for - or between a ledger-book +and an old ballad. How to get over, how to escape from, the +besotting PARTICULARITY of fiction. 'Roland approached the house; +it had green doors and window blinds; and there was a scraper on +the upper step.' To hell with Roland and the scraper! - Yours +ever, + +R. L. S. + + + +Letter: TO A. CONAN DOYLE + + + +VAILIMA, JULY 12, 1893. + +MY DEAR DR. CONAN DOYLE, - The WHITE COMPANY has not yet turned up; +but when it does - which I suppose will be next mail - you shall +hear news of me. I have a great talent for compliment, accompanied +by a hateful, even a diabolic frankness. + +Delighted to hear I have a chance of seeing you and Mrs. Doyle; +Mrs. Stevenson bids me say (what is too true) that our rations are +often spare. Are you Great Eaters? Please reply. + +As to ways and means, here is what you will have to do. Leave San +Francisco by the down mail, get off at Samoa, and twelve days or a +fortnight later, you can continue your journey to Auckland per +Upolu, which will give you a look at Tonga and possibly Fiji by the +way. Make this a FIRST PART OF YOUR PLANS. A fortnight, even of +Vailima diet, could kill nobody. + +We are in the midst of war here; rather a nasty business, with the +head-taking; and there seem signs of other trouble. But I believe +you need make no change in your design to visit us. All should be +well over; and if it were not, why! you need not leave the steamer. +- Yours very truly, + +ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. + + + +Letter: TO CHARLES BAXTER + + + +19TH JULY '93. + +. . . We are in the thick of war - see ILLUSTRATED LONDON NEWS - we +have only two outside boys left to us. Nothing is doing, and PER +CONTRA little paying. . . My life here is dear; but I can live +within my income for a time at least - so long as my prices keep up +- and it seems a clear duty to waste none of it on gadding about. . +. . My life of my family fills up intervals, and should be an +excellent book when it is done, but big, damnably big. + +My dear old man, I perceive by a thousand signs that we grow old, +and are soon to pass away! I hope with dignity; if not, with +courage at least. I am myself very ready; or would be - will be - +when I have made a little money for my folks. The blows that have +fallen upon you are truly terrifying; I wish you strength to bear +them. It is strange, I must seem to you to blaze in a Birmingham +prosperity and happiness; and to myself I seem a failure. The +truth is, I have never got over the last influenza yet, and am +miserably out of heart and out of kilter. Lungs pretty right, +stomach nowhere, spirits a good deal overshadowed; but we'll come +through it yet, and cock our bonnets. (I confess with sorrow that +I am not yet quite sure about the INTELLECTS; but I hope it is only +one of my usual periods of non-work. They are more unbearable now, +because I cannot rest. NO REST BUT THE GRAVE FOR SIR WALTER! O +the words ring in a man's head.) + +R. L. S. + + + +Letter: TO A. CONAN DOYLE + + + +VAILIMA, AUGUST 23RD, 1893. + +MY DEAR DR. CONAN DOYLE, - I am reposing after a somewhat severe +experience upon which I think it my duty to report to you. +Immediately after dinner this evening it occurred to me to re- +narrate to my native overseer Simele your story of THE ENGINEER'S +THUMB. And, sir, I have done it. It was necessary, I need hardly +say, to go somewhat farther afield than you have done. To explain +(for instance) what a railway is, what a steam hammer, what a coach +and horse, what coining, what a criminal, and what the police. I +pass over other and no less necessary explanations. But I did +actually succeed; and if you could have seen the drawn, anxious +features and the bright, feverish eyes of Simele, you would have +(for the moment at least) tasted glory. You might perhaps think +that, were you to come to Samoa, you might be introduced as the +Author of THE ENGINEER'S THUMB. Disabuse yourself. They do not +know what it is to make up a story. THE ENGINEER'S THUMB (God +forgive me) was narrated as a piece of actual and factual history. +Nay, and more, I who write to you have had the indiscretion to +perpetrate a trifling piece of fiction entitled THE BOTTLE IMP. +Parties who come up to visit my unpretentious mansion, after having +admired the ceilings by Vanderputty and the tapestry by Gobbling, +manifest towards the end a certain uneasiness which proves them to +be fellows of an infinite delicacy. They may be seen to shrug a +brown shoulder, to roll up a speaking eye, and at last secret +bursts from them: 'Where is the bottle?' Alas, my friends (I feel +tempted to say), you will find it by the Engineer's Thumb! Talofa- +soifuia. + +Oa'u, O lau no moni, O Tusitala. + +More commonly known as, + +R. L. STEVENSON. + +Have read the REFUGEES; Conde and old P. Murat very good; Louis +XIV. and Louvois with the letter bag very rich. You have reached a +trifle wide perhaps; too MANY celebrities? Though I was delighted +to re-encounter my old friend Du Chaylu. Old Murat is perhaps your +high water mark; 'tis excellently human, cheerful and real. Do it +again. Madame de Maintenon struck me as quite good. Have you any +document for the decapitation? It sounds steepish. The devil of +all that first part is that you see old Dumas; yet your Louis XIV. +is DISTINCTLY GOOD. I am much interested with this book, which +fulfils a good deal, and promises more. Question: How far a +Historical Novel should be wholly episodic? I incline to that +view, with trembling. I shake hands with you on old Murat. + +R. L. S. + + + +Letter: TO GEORGE MEREDITH + + + +SEPT. 5TH, 1893, VAILIMA PLANTATION, UPOLU, SAMOA. + +MY DEAR MEREDITH, - I have again and again taken up the pen to +write to you, and many beginnings have gone into the waste paper +basket (I have one now - for the second time in my life - and feel +a big man on the strength of it). And no doubt it requires some +decision to break so long a silence. My health is vastly restored, +and I am now living patriarchally in this place six hundred feet +above the sea on the shoulder of a mountain of 1500. Behind me, +the unbroken bush slopes up to the backbone of the island (3 to +4000) without a house, with no inhabitants save a few runaway black +boys, wild pigs and cattle, and wild doves and flying foxes, and +many parti-coloured birds, and many black, and many white: a very +eerie, dim, strange place and hard to travel. I am the head of a +household of five whites, and of twelve Samoans, to all of whom I +am the chief and father: my cook comes to me and asks leave to +marry - and his mother, a fine old chief woman, who has never lived +here, does the same. You may be sure I granted the petition. It +is a life of great interest, complicated by the Tower of Babel, +that old enemy. And I have all the time on my hands for literary +work. My house is a great place; we have a hall fifty feet long +with a great red-wood stair ascending from it, where we dine in +state - myself usually dressed in a singlet and a pair of trousers +- and attended on by servants in a single garment, a kind of kilt - +also flowers and leaves - and their hair often powdered with lime. +The European who came upon it suddenly would think it was a dream. +We have prayers on Sunday night - I am a perfect pariah in the +island not to have them oftener, but the spirit is unwilling and +the flesh proud, and I cannot go it more. It is strange to see the +long line of the brown folk crouched along the wall with lanterns +at intervals before them in the big shadowy hall, with an oak +cabinet at one end of it and a group of Rodin's (which native taste +regards as PRODIGIEUSEMENT LESTE) presiding over all from the top - +and to hear the long rambling Samoan hymn rolling up (God bless me, +what style! But I am off business to-day, and this is not meant to +be literature.). + +I have asked Colvin to send you a copy of CATRIONA, which I am +sometimes tempted to think is about my best work. I hear word +occasionally of the AMAZING MARRIAGE. It will be a brave day for +me when I get hold of it. Gower Woodseer is now an ancient, lean, +grim, exiled Scot, living and labouring as for a wager in the +tropics; still active, still with lots of fire in him, but the +youth - ah, the youth where is it? For years after I came here, +the critics (those genial gentlemen) used to deplore the relaxation +of my fibre and the idleness to which I had succumbed. I hear less +of this now; the next thing is they will tell me I am writing +myself out! and that my unconscientious conduct is bringing their +grey hairs with sorrow to the dust. I do not know - I mean I do +know one thing. For fourteen years I have not had a day's real +health; I have wakened sick and gone to bed weary; and I have done +my work unflinchingly. I have written in bed, and written out of +it, written in hemorrhages, written in sickness, written torn by +coughing, written when my head swam for weakness; and for so long, +it seems to me I have won my wager and recovered my glove. I am +better now, have been rightly speaking since first I came to the +Pacific; and still, few are the days when I am not in some physical +distress. And the battle goes on - ill or well, is a trifle; so as +it goes. I was made for a contest, and the Powers have so willed +that my battlefield should be this dingy, inglorious one of the bed +and the physic bottle. At least I have not failed, but I would +have preferred a place of trumpetings and the open air over my +head. + +This is a devilish egotistical yarn. Will you try to imitate me in +that if the spirit ever moves you to reply? And meantime be sure +that away in the midst of the Pacific there is a house on a wooded +island where the name of George Meredith is very dear, and his +memory (since it must be no more) is continually honoured. - Ever +your friend, + +ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. + +Remember me to Mariette, if you please; and my wife sends her most +kind remembrances to yourself. + +R. L. S. + + + +Letter: TO AUGUSTUS ST. GAUDENS + + + +VAILIMA, SEPTEMBER 1893. + +MY DEAR ST. GAUDENS, - I had determined not to write to you till I +had seen the medallion, but it looks as if that might mean the +Greek Kalends or the day after to-morrow. Reassure yourself, your +part is done, it is ours that halts - the consideration of +conveyance over our sweet little road on boys' backs, for we cannot +very well apply the horses to this work; there is only one; you +cannot put it in a panier; to put it on the horse's back we have +not the heart. Beneath the beauty of R. L. S., to say nothing of +his verses, which the publishers find heavy enough, and the genius +of the god-like sculptor, the spine would snap and the well-knit +limbs of the (ahem) cart-horse would be loosed by death. So you +are to conceive me, sitting in my house, dubitative, and the +medallion chuckling in the warehouse of the German firm, for some +days longer; and hear me meanwhile on the golden letters. + +Alas! they are all my fancy painted, but the price is prohibitive. +I cannot do it. It is another day-dream burst. Another gable of +Abbotsford has gone down, fortunately before it was builded, so +there's nobody injured - except me. I had a strong conviction that +I was a great hand at writing inscriptions, and meant to exhibit +and test my genius on the walls of my house; and now I see I can't. +It is generally thus. The Battle of the Golden Letters will never +be delivered. On making preparation to open the campaign, the King +found himself face to face with invincible difficulties, in which +the rapacity of a mercenary soldiery and the complaints of an +impoverished treasury played an equal part. - Ever yours, + +ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. + +I enclose a bill for the medallion; have been trying to find your +letter, quite in vain, and therefore must request you to pay for +the bronze letters yourself and let me know the damage. + +R. L. S. + + + +Letter: TO J. HORNE STEVENSON + + + +VAILIMA, SAMOA, NOVEMBER 5TH, 1893. + +MY DEAR STEVENSON, - A thousand thanks for your voluminous and +delightful collections. Baxter - so soon as it is ready - will let +you see a proof of my introduction, which is only sent out as a +sprat to catch whales. And you will find I have a good deal of +what you have, only mine in a perfectly desultory manner, as is +necessary to an exile. My uncle's pedigree is wrong; there was +never a Stevenson of Caldwell, of course, but they were tenants of +the Muirs; the farm held by them is in my introduction; and I have +already written to Charles Baxter to have a search made in the +Register House. I hope he will have had the inspiration to put it +under your surveillance. Your information as to your own family is +intensely interesting, and I should not wonder but what you and we +and old John Stevenson, 'land labourer in the parish of Dailly,' +came all of the same stock. Ayrshire - and probably Cunningham - +seems to be the home of the race - our part of it. From the +distribution of the name - which your collections have so much +extended without essentially changing my knowledge of - we seem +rather pointed to a British origin. What you say of the Engineers +is fresh to me, and must be well thrashed out. This introduction +of it will take a long while to walk about! - as perhaps I may be +tempted to let it become long; after all, I am writing THIS for my +own pleasure solely. Greetings to you and other Speculatives of +our date, long bygone, alas! - Yours very sincerely, + +ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. + +P.S. - I have a different version of my grandfather's arms - or my +father had if I could find it. + +R. L. S. + + + +Letter: TO JOHN P-N + + + +VAILIMA, SAMOA, DECEMBER 3RD, 1893. + +DEAR JOHNNIE, - Well, I must say you seem to be a tremendous +fellow! Before I was eight I used to write stories - or dictate +them at least - and I had produced an excellent history of Moses, +for which I got 1 pound from an uncle; but I had never gone the +length of a play, so you have beaten me fairly on my own ground. I +hope you may continue to do so, and thanking you heartily for your +nice letter, I shall beg you to believe me yours truly, + +ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. + + + +Letter: TO RUSSELL P-N + + + +VAILIMA, SAMOA, DECEMBER 3RD, 1893. + +DEAR RUSSELL, - I have to thank you very much for your capital +letter, which came to hand here in Samoa along with your mother's. +When you 'grow up and write stories like me,' you will be able to +understand that there is scarce anything more painful than for an +author to hold a pen; he has to do it so much that his heart +sickens and his fingers ache at the sight or touch of it; so that +you will excuse me if I do not write much, but remain (with +compliments and greetings from one Scot to another - though I was +not born in Ceylon - you're ahead of me there). - Yours very truly, + +ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. + + + +Letter: TO ALISON CUNNINGHAM + + + +VAILIMA, DECEMBER 5, 1893. + +MY DEAREST CUMMY, - This goes to you with a Merry Christmas and a +Happy New Year. The Happy New Year anyway, for I think it should +reach you about NOOR'S DAY. I dare say it may be cold and frosty. +Do you remember when you used to take me out of bed in the early +morning, carry me to the back windows, show me the hills of Fife, +and quote to me. + + +'A' the hills are covered wi' snaw, +An' winter's noo come fairly'? + + +There is not much chance of that here! I wonder how my mother is +going to stand the winter. If she can, it will be a very good +thing for her. We are in that part of the year which I like the +best - the Rainy or Hurricane Season. 'When it is good, it is +very, very good; and when it is bad, it is horrid,' and our fine +days are certainly fine like heaven; such a blue of the sea, such +green of the trees, and such crimson of the hibiscus flowers, you +never saw; and the air as mild and gentle as a baby's breath, and +yet not hot! + +The mail is on the move, and I must let up. - With much love, I am, +your laddie, + +R. L. S. + + + +Letter: TO CHARLES BAXTER + + + +6TH DECEMBER 1893. + +'OCTOBER 25, 1685. - At Privy Council, George Murray, Lieutenant of +the King's Guard, and others, did, on the 21st of September last, +obtain a clandestine order of Privy Council to apprehend the person +of Janet Pringle, daughter to the late Clifton, and she having +retired out of the way upon information, he got an order against +Andrew Pringle, her uncle, to produce her. . . . But she having +married Andrew Pringle, her uncle's son (to disappoint all their +designs of selling her), a boy of thirteen years old.' But my boy +is to be fourteen, so I extract no further. - FOUNTAINHALL, i. 320. + +'MAY 6, 1685. - Wappus Pringle of Clifton was still alive after +all, and in prison for debt, and transacts with Lieutenant Murray, +giving security for 7000 marks.' - i. 372. + +No, it seems to have been HER brother who had succeeded. + + +MY DEAR CHARLES, - The above is my story, and I wonder if any light +can be thrown on it. I prefer the girl's father dead; and the +question is, How in that case could Lieutenant George Murray get +his order to 'apprehend' and his power to 'sell' her in marriage? + +Or - might Lieutenant G. be her tutor, and she fugitive to the +Pringles, and on the discovery of her whereabouts hastily married? + +A good legal note on these points is very ardently desired by me; +it will be the corner-stone of my novel. + +This is for - I am quite wrong to tell you - for you will tell +others - and nothing will teach you that all my schemes are in the +air, and vanish and reappear again like shapes in the clouds - it +is for HEATHERCAT: whereof the first volume will be called THE +KILLING TIME, and I believe I have authorities ample for that. But +the second volume is to be called (I believe) DARIEN, and for that +I want, I fear, a good deal of truck:- + + +DARIEN PAPERS, +CARSTAIRS PAPERS, +MARCHMONT PAPERS, +JERVISWOODE CORRESPONDENCE, + + +I hope may do me. Some sort of general history of the Darien +affair (if there is a decent one, which I misdoubt), it would also +be well to have - the one with most details, if possible. It is +singular how obscure to me this decade of Scots history remains, +1690-1700 - a deuce of a want of light and grouping to it! +However, I believe I shall be mostly out of Scotland in my tale; +first in Carolina, next in Darien. I want also - I am the daughter +of the horse-leech truly - 'Black's new large map of Scotland,' +sheets 3, 4, and 5, a 7s. 6d. touch. I believe, if you can get the + + +CALDWELL PAPERS, + + +they had better come also; and if there be any reasonable work - +but no, I must call a halt. . . . + +I fear the song looks doubtful, but I'll consider of it, and I can +promise you some reminiscences which it will amuse me to write, +whether or not it will amuse the public to read of them. But it's +an unco business to SUPPLY deid-heid coapy. + + + +Letter: TO J. M. BARRIE + + + +VAILIMA, SAMOA, DECEMBER 7TH, 1893. + +MY DEAR BARRIE, - I have received duly the MAGNUM OPUS, and it +really is a MAGNUM OPUS. It is a beautiful specimen of Clark's +printing, paper sufficient, and the illustrations all my fancy +painted. But the particular flower of the flock to whom I have +hopelessly lost my heart is Tibby Birse. I must have known Tibby +Birse when she was a servant's mantua-maker in Edinburgh and +answered to the name of Miss BRODDIE. She used to come and sew +with my nurse, sitting with her legs crossed in a masculine manner; +and swinging her foot emphatically, she used to pour forth a +perfectly unbroken stream of gossip. I didn't hear it, I was +immersed in far more important business with a box of bricks, but +the recollection of that thin, perpetual, shrill sound of a voice +has echoed in my ears sinsyne. I am bound to say she was younger +than Tibbie, but there is no mistaking that and the indescribable +and eminently Scottish expression. + +I have been very much prevented of late, having carried out +thoroughly to my own satisfaction two considerable illnesses, had a +birthday, and visited Honolulu, where politics are (if possible) a +shade more exasperating than they are with us. I am told that it +was just when I was on the point of leaving that I received your +superlative epistle about the cricket eleven. In that case it is +impossible I should have answered it, which is inconsistent with my +own recollection of the fact. What I remember is, that I sat down +under your immediate inspiration and wrote an answer in every way +worthy. If I didn't, as it seems proved that I couldn't, it will +never be done now. However, I did the next best thing, I equipped +my cousin Graham Balfour with a letter of introduction, and from +him, if you know how - for he is rather of the Scottish character - +you may elicit all the information you can possibly wish to have as +to us and ours. Do not be bluffed off by the somewhat stern and +monumental first impression that he may make upon you. He is one +of the best fellows in the world, and the same sort of fool that we +are, only better-looking, with all the faults of Vailimans and some +of his own - I say nothing about virtues. + +I have lately been returning to my wallowing in the mire. When I +was a child, and indeed until I was nearly a man, I consistently +read Covenanting books. Now that I am a grey-beard - or would be, +if I could raise the beard - I have returned, and for weeks back +have read little else but Wodrow, Walker, Shields, etc. Of course +this is with an idea of a novel, but in the course of it I made a +very curious discovery. I have been accustomed to hear refined and +intelligent critics - those who know so much better what we are +than we do ourselves, - trace down my literary descent from all +sorts of people, including Addison, of whom I could never read a +word. Well, laigh i' your lug, sir - the clue was found. My style +is from the Covenanting writers. Take a particular case - the +fondness for rhymes. I don't know of any English prose-writer who +rhymes except by accident, and then a stone had better be tied +around his neck and himself cast into the sea. But my Covenanting +buckies rhyme all the time - a beautiful example of the unconscious +rhyme above referred to. + +Do you know, and have you really tasted, these delightful works? +If not, it should be remedied; there is enough of the Auld Licht in +you to be ravished. + +I suppose you know that success has so far attended my banners - my +political banners I mean, and not my literary. In conjunction with +the Three Great Powers I have succeeded in getting rid of My +President and My Chief-Justice. They've gone home, the one to +Germany, the other to Souwegia. I hear little echoes of footfalls +of their departing footsteps through the medium of the newspapers. +. . . + +Whereupon I make you my salute with the firm remark that it is time +to be done with trifling and give us a great book, and my ladies +fall into line with me to pay you a most respectful courtesy, and +we all join in the cry, 'Come to Vailima!' + +My dear sir, your soul's health is in it - you will never do the +great book, you will never cease to work in L., etc., till you come +to Vailima. + +ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. + + + +Letter: TO R. LE GALLIENNE + + + +VAILIMA, SAMOA, DECEMBER 28TH, 1893. + +DEAR MR. LE GALLIENNE, - I have received some time ago, through our +friend Miss Taylor, a book of yours. But that was by no means my +first introduction to your name. The same book had stood already +on my shelves; I had read articles of yours in the ACADEMY; and by +a piece of constructive criticism (which I trust was sound) had +arrived at the conclusion that you were 'Log-roller.' Since then I +have seen your beautiful verses to your wife. You are to conceive +me, then, as only too ready to make the acquaintance of a man who +loved good literature and could make it. I had to thank you, +besides, for a triumphant exposure of a paradox of my own: the +literary-prostitute disappeared from view at a phrase of yours - +'The essence is not in the pleasure but the sale.' True: you are +right, I was wrong; the author is not the whore, but the libertine; +and yet I shall let the passage stand. It is an error, but it +illustrated the truth for which I was contending, that literature - +painting - all art, are no other than pleasures, which we turn into +trades. + +And more than all this, I had, and I have to thank you for the +intimate loyalty you have shown to myself; for the eager welcome +you give to what is good - for the courtly tenderness with which +you touch on my defects. I begin to grow old; I have given my top +note, I fancy; - and I have written too many books. The world +begins to be weary of the old booth; and if not weary, familiar +with the familiarity that breeds contempt. I do not know that I am +sensitive to criticism, if it be hostile; I am sensitive indeed, +when it is friendly; and when I read such criticism as yours, I am +emboldened to go on and praise God. + +You are still young, and you may live to do much. The little, +artificial popularity of style in England tends, I think, to die +out; the British pig returns to his true love, the love of the +styleless, of the shapeless, of the slapdash and the disorderly. +There is trouble coming, I think; and you may have to hold the fort +for us in evil days. + +Lastly, let me apologise for the crucifixion that I am inflicting +on you (BIEN A CONTRE-COEUR) by my bad writing. I was once the +best of writers; landladies, puzzled as to my 'trade,' used to have +their honest bosoms set at rest by a sight of a page of manuscript. +- 'Ah,' they would say, 'no wonder they pay you for that'; - and +when I sent it in to the printers, it was given to the boys! I was +about thirty-nine, I think, when I had a turn of scrivener's palsy; +my hand got worse; and for the first time, I received clean proofs. +But it has gone beyond that now, I know I am like my old friend +James Payn, a terror to correspondents; and you would not believe +the care with which this has been written. - Believe me to be, very +sincerely yours, + +ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. + + + +Letter: TO MRS. A. BAKER + + + +DECEMBER 1893. + +DEAR MADAM, - There is no trouble, and I wish I could help instead. +As it is, I fear I am only going to put you to trouble and +vexation. This Braille writing is a kind of consecration, and I +would like if I could to have your copy perfect. The two volumes +are to be published as Vols. I. and II. of THE ADVENTURES OF DAVID +BALFOUR. 1st, KIDNAPPED; 2nd, CATRIONA. I am just sending home a +corrected KIDNAPPED for this purpose to Messrs. Cassell, and in +order that I may if possible be in time, I send it to you first of +all. Please, as soon as you have noted the changes, forward the +same to Cassell and Co., La Belle Sauvage Yard, Ludgate Hill. + +I am writing to them by this mail to send you CATRIONA. + +You say, dear madam, you are good enough to say, it is 'a keen +pleasure' to you to bring my book within the reach of the blind. + +Conceive then what it is to me! and believe me, sincerely yours, + +ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. + +I was a barren tree before, +I blew a quenched coal, +I could not, on their midnight shore, +The lonely blind console. + +A moment, lend your hand, I bring +My sheaf for you to bind, +And you can teach my words to sing +In the darkness of the blind. + +R. L. S. + + + +Letter: TO HENRY JAMES + + + +APIA, DECEMBER 1893. + +MY DEAR HENRY JAMES, - The mail has come upon me like an armed man +three days earlier than was expected; and the Lord help me! It is +impossible I should answer anybody the way they should be. Your +jubilation over CATRIONA did me good, and still more the subtlety +and truth of your remark on the starving of the visual sense in +that book. 'Tis true, and unless I make the greater effort - and +am, as a step to that, convinced of its necessity - it will be more +true I fear in the future. I HEAR people talking, and I FEEL them +acting, and that seems to me to be fiction. My two aims may be +described as - + +1ST. War to the adjective. +2ND. Death to the optic nerve. + +Admitted we live in an age of the optic nerve in literature. For +how many centuries did literature get along without a sign of it? +However, I'll consider your letter. + +How exquisite is your character of the critic in ESSAYS IN LONDON! +I doubt if you have done any single thing so satisfying as a piece +of style and of insight. - Yours ever, + +R. L. S. + + + +Letter: TO CHARLES BAXTER + + + +1ST JANUARY '94. + +MY DEAR CHARLES, - I am delighted with your idea, and first, I will +here give an amended plan and afterwards give you a note of some of +the difficulties. + +[Plan of the Edinburgh edition - 14 vols.] + +. . . It may be a question whether my TIMES letters might not be +appended to the 'Footnote' with a note of the dates of discharge of +Cedercrantz and Pilsach. + +I am particularly pleased with this idea of yours, because I am +come to a dead stop. I never can remember how bad I have been +before, but at any rate I am bad enough just now, I mean as to +literature; in health I am well and strong. I take it I shall be +six months before I'm heard of again, and this time I could put in +to some advantage in revising the text and (if it were thought +desirable) writing prefaces. I do not know how many of them might +be thought desirable. I have written a paper on TREASURE ISLAND, +which is to appear shortly. MASTER OF BALLANTRAE - I have one +drafted. THE WRECKER is quite sufficiently done already with the +last chapter, but I suppose an historic introduction to DAVID +BALFOUR is quite unavoidable. PRINCE OTTO I don't think I could +say anything about, and BLACK ARROW don't want to. But it is +probable I could say something to the volume of TRAVELS. In the +verse business I can do just what I like better than anything else, +and extend UNDERWOODS with a lot of unpublished stuff. APROPOS, if +I were to get printed off a very few poems which are somewhat too +intimate for the public, could you get them run up in some luxuous +manner, so that fools might be induced to buy them in just a +sufficient quantity to pay expenses and the thing remain still in a +manner private? We could supply photographs of the illustrations - +and the poems are of Vailima and the family - I should much like to +get this done as a surprise for Fanny. + +R. L. S. + + + +Letter: TO H. B. BAILDON + + + +VAILIMA, JANUARY 15TH, 1894. + +MY DEAR BAILDON, - Last mail brought your book and its Dedication. +'Frederick Street and the gardens, and the short-lived Jack o' +Lantern,' are again with me - and the note of the east wind, and +Froebel's voice, and the smell of soup in Thomson's stair. Truly, +you had no need to put yourself under the protection of any other +saint, were that saint our Tamate himself! Yourself were enough, +and yourself coming with so rich a sheaf. + +For what is this that you say about the Muses? They have certainly +never better inspired you than in 'Jael and Sisera,' and 'Herodias +and John the Baptist,' good stout poems, fiery and sound. ''Tis +but a mask and behind it chuckles the God of the Garden,' I shall +never forget. By the by, an error of the press, page 49, line 4, +'No infant's lesson are the ways of God.' THE is dropped. + +And this reminds me you have a bad habit which is to be comminated +in my theory of letters. Same page, two lines lower: 'But the +vulture's track' is surely as fine to the ear as 'But vulture's +track,' and this latter version has a dreadful baldness. The +reader goes on with a sense of impoverishment, of unnecessary +sacrifice; he has been robbed by footpads, and goes scouting for +his lost article! Again, in the second Epode, these fine verses +would surely sound much finer if they began, 'As a hardy climber +who has set his heart,' than with the jejune 'As hardy climber.' I +do not know why you permit yourself this license with grammar; you +show, in so many pages, that you are superior to the paltry sense +of rhythm which usually dictates it - as though some poetaster had +been suffered to correct the poet's text. By the way, I confess to +a heartfelt weakness for AURICULAS. - Believe me the very grateful +and characteristic pick-thank, but still sincere and affectionate, + +ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. + + + +Letter: TO W. H. LOW. + + + +VAILIMA, JANUARY 15th, 1894. + +MY DEAR LOW, - . . . Pray you, stoop your proud head, and sell +yourself to some Jew magazine, and make the visit out. I assure +you, this is the spot for a sculptor or painter. This, and no +other - I don't say to stay there, but to come once and get the +living colour into them. I am used to it; I do not notice it; +rather prefer my grey, freezing recollections of Scotland; but +there it is, and every morning is a thing to give thanks for, and +every night another - bar when it rains, of course. + +About THE WRECKER - rather late days, and I still suspect I had +somehow offended you; however, all's well that ends well, and I am +glad I am forgiven - did you not fail to appreciate the attitude of +Dodd? He was a fizzle and a stick, he knew it, he knew nothing +else, and there is an undercurrent of bitterness in him. And then +the problem that Pinkerton laid down: why the artist can DO +NOTHING ELSE? is one that continually exercises myself. He cannot: +granted. But Scott could. And Montaigne. And Julius Caesar. And +many more. And why can't R. L. S.? Does it not amaze you? It +does me. I think of the Renaissance fellows, and their all-round +human sufficiency, and compare it with the ineffable smallness of +the field in which we labour and in which we do so little. I think +DAVID BALFOUR a nice little book, and very artistic, and just the +thing to occupy the leisure of a busy man; but for the top flower +of a man's life it seems to me inadequate. Small is the word; it +is a small age, and I am of it. I could have wished to be +otherwise busy in this world. I ought to have been able to build +lighthouses and write DAVID BALFOURS too. HINC ILLAE LACRYMAE. I +take my own case as most handy, but it is as illustrative of my +quarrel with the age. We take all these pains, and we don't do as +well as Michael Angelo or Leonardo, or even Fielding, who was an +active magistrate, or Richardson, who was a busy bookseller. J'AI +HONTE POUR NOUS; my ears burn. + +I am amazed at the effect which this Chicago exhibition has +produced upon you and others. It set Mrs. Fairchild literally mad +- to judge by her letters. And I wish I had seen anything so +influential. I suppose there was an aura, a halo, some sort of +effulgency about the place; for here I find you louder than the +rest. Well, it may be there is a time coming; and I wonder, when +it comes, whether it will be a time of little, exclusive, one-eyed +rascals like you and me, or parties of the old stamp who can paint +and fight, and write and keep books of double entry, and sculp, and +scalp. It might be. You have a lot of stuff in the kettle, and a +great deal of it Celtic. I have changed my mind progressively +about England, practically the whole of Scotland is Celtic, and the +western half of England, and all Ireland, and the Celtic blood +makes a rare blend for art. If it is stiffened up with Latin +blood, you get the French. We were less lucky: we had only +Scandinavians, themselves decidedly artistic, and the Low-German +lot. However, that is a good starting-point, and with all the +other elements in your crucible, it may come to something great +very easily. I wish you would hurry up and let me see it. Here is +a long while I have been waiting for something GOOD in art; and +what have I seen? Zola's DEBACLE and a few of Kipling's tales. +Are you a reader of Barbey d'Aurevilly? He is a never-failing +source of pleasure to me, for my sins, I suppose. What a work is +the RIDEAU CRAMOISI! and L'ENSORCELEE! and LE CHEVALIER DES +TOUCHES! + +This is degenerating into mere twaddle. So please remember us all +most kindly to Mrs. Low, and believe me ever yours, + +ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. + +P.S. - Were all your privateers voiceless in the war of 1812? Did +NO ONE of them write memoirs? I shall have to do my privateer from +chic, if you can't help me. My application to Scribner has been +quite in vain. See if you can get hold of some historic sharp in +the club, and tap him; they must some of them have written memoirs +or notes of some sort; perhaps still unprinted; if that be so, get +them copied for me. + +R. L. S. + + + +Letter: TO H. B. BAILDON + + + +VAILIMA, JANUARY 30TH, 1894. + +MY DEAR BAILDON, - 'Call not blessed.' - Yes, if I could die just +now, or say in half a year, I should have had a splendid time of it +on the whole. But it gets a little stale, and my work will begin +to senesce; and parties to shy bricks at me; and now it begins to +look as if I should survive to see myself impotent and forgotten. +It's a pity suicide is not thought the ticket in the best circles. + +But your letter goes on to congratulate me on having done the one +thing I am a little sorry for; a little - not much - for my father +himself lived to think that I had been wiser than he. But the +cream of the jest is that I have lived to change my mind; and think +that he was wiser than I. Had I been an engineer, and literature +my amusement, it would have been better perhaps. I pulled it off, +of course, I won the wager, and it is pleasant while it lasts; but +how long will it last? I don't know, say the Bells of Old Bow. + +All of which goes to show that nobody is quite sane in judging +himself. Truly, had I given way and gone in for engineering, I +should be dead by now. Well, the gods know best. + +I hope you got my letter about the RESCUE. - Adieu, + +R. L. S. + +True for you about the benefit: except by kisses, jests, song, ET +HOC GENUS OMNE, man CANNOT convey benefit to another. The +universal benefactor has been there before him. + + + +Letter: TO J. H. BATES + + + +VAILIMA, SAMOA, MARCH 25TH, 1894. + +MY DEAR MR. JOE H. BATES, - I shall have the greatest pleasure in +acceding to your complimentary request. I shall think it an honour +to be associated with your chapter, and I need not remind you (for +you have said it yourself) how much depends upon your own exertions +whether to make it to me a real honour or only a derision. This is +to let you know that I accept the position that you have seriously +offered to me in a quite serious spirit. I need scarce tell you +that I shall always be pleased to receive reports of your +proceedings; and if I do not always acknowledge them, you are to +remember that I am a man very much occupied otherwise, and not at +all to suppose that I have lost interest in my chapter. + +In this world, which (as you justly say) is so full of sorrow and +suffering, it will always please me to remember that my name is +connected with some efforts after alleviation, nor less so with +purposes of innocent recreation which, after all, are the only +certain means at our disposal for bettering human life. + +With kind regards, to yourself, to Mr. L. C. Congdon, to E. M. G. +Bates, and to Mr. Edward Hugh Higlee Bates, and the heartiest +wishes for the future success of the chapter, believe me, yours +cordially, + +ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. + + + +Letter: TO WILLIAM ARCHER + + + +VAILIMA, SAMOA, MARCH 27TH, 1894. + +MY DEAR ARCHER, - Many thanks for your THEATRICAL WORLD. Do you +know, it strikes me as being really very good? I have not yet read +much of it, but so far as I have looked, there is not a dull and +not an empty page in it. Hazlitt, whom you must often have thought +of, would have been pleased. Come to think of it, I shall put this +book upon the Hazlitt shelf. You have acquired a manner that I can +only call august; otherwise, I should have to call it such amazing +impudence. The BAUBLE SHOP and BECKET are examples of what I mean. +But it 'sets you weel.' + +Marjorie Fleming I have known, as you surmise, for long. She was +possibly - no, I take back possibly - she was one of the greatest +works of God. Your note about the resemblance of her verses to +mine gave me great joy, though it only proved me a plagiarist. By +the by, was it not over THE CHILD'S GARDEN OF VERSES that we first +scraped acquaintance? I am sorry indeed to hear that my esteemed +correspondent Tomarcher has such poor taste in literature. I fear +he cannot have inherited this trait from his dear papa. Indeed, I +may say I know it, for I remember the energy of papa's disapproval +when the work passed through his hands on its way to a second +birth, which none regrets more than myself. It is an odd fact, or +perhaps a very natural one; I find few greater pleasures than +reading my own works, but I never, O I never read THE BLACK ARROW. +In that country Tomarcher reigns supreme. Well, and after all, if +Tomarcher likes it, it has not been written in vain. + +We have just now a curious breath from Europe. A young fellow just +beginning letters, and no fool, turned up here with a letter of +introduction in the well-known blue ink and decorative hieroglyphs +of George Meredith. His name may be known to you. It is Sidney +Lysaght. He is staying with us but a day or two, and it is strange +to me and not unpleasant to hear all the names, old and new, come +up again. But oddly the new are so much more in number. If I +revisited the glimpses of the moon on your side of the ocean, I +should know comparatively few of them. + +My amanuensis deserts me - I should have said you, for yours is the +loss, my script having lost all bond with humanity. One touch of +nature makes the whole world kin: that nobody can read my hand. +It is a humiliating circumstance that thus evens us with printers! + +You must sometimes think it strange - or perhaps it is only I that +should so think it - to be following the old round, in the gas +lamps and the crowded theatres, when I am away here in the tropical +forest and the vast silences! + +My dear Archer, my wife joins me in the best wishes to yourself and +Mrs. Archer, not forgetting Tom; and I am yours very cordially, + +ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. + + + +Letter: TO W. B. YEATS + + + +VAILIMA, SAMOA, APRIL 14, 1894. + +DEAR SIR, - Long since when I was a boy I remember the emotions +with which I repeated Swinburne's poems and ballads. Some ten +years ago, a similar spell was cast upon me by Meredith's LOVE IN +THE VALLEY; the stanzas beginning 'When her mother tends her' +haunted me and made me drunk like wine; and I remember waking with +them all the echoes of the hills about Hyeres. It may interest you +to hear that I have a third time fallen in slavery: this is to +your poem called the LAKE ISLE OF INNISFRAE. It is so quaint and +airy, simple, artful, and eloquent to the heart - but I seek words +in vain. Enough that 'always night and day I hear lake water +lapping with low sounds on the shore,' and am, yours gratefully, + +ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. + + + +Letter: TO GEORGE MEREDITH + + + +VAILIMA, SAMOA, APRIL 17TH, 1894. + +MY DEAR MEREDITH, - Many good things have the gods sent to me of +late. First of all there was a letter from you by the kind hand of +Mariette, if she is not too great a lady to be remembered in such a +style; and then there came one Lysaght with a charming note of +introduction in the well-known hand itself. We had but a few days +of him, and liked him well. There was a sort of geniality and +inward fire about him at which I warmed my hands. It is long since +I have seen a young man who has left in me such a favourable +impression; and I find myself telling myself, 'O, I must tell this +to Lysaght,' or, 'This will interest him,' in a manner very unusual +after so brief an acquaintance. The whole of my family shared in +this favourable impression, and my halls have re-echoed ever since, +I am sure he will be amused to know, with WIDDICOMBE FAIR. + +He will have told you doubtless more of my news than I could tell +you myself; he has your European perspective, a thing long lost to +me. I heard with a great deal of interest the news of Box Hill. +And so I understand it is to be enclosed! Allow me to remark, that +seems a far more barbaric trait of manners than the most barbarous +of ours. We content ourselves with cutting off an occasional head. + +I hear we may soon expect the AMAZING MARRIAGE. You know how long, +and with how much curiosity, I have looked forward to the book. +Now, in so far as you have adhered to your intention, Gower +Woodsere will be a family portrait, age twenty-five, of the highly +respectable and slightly influential and fairly aged TUSITALA. You +have not known that gentleman; console yourself, he is not worth +knowing. At the same time, my dear Meredith, he is very sincerely +yours - for what he is worth, for the memories of old times, and in +the expectation of many pleasures still to come. I suppose we +shall never see each other again; flitting youths of the Lysaght +species may occasionally cover these unconscionable leagues and +bear greetings to and fro. But we ourselves must be content to +converse on an occasional sheet of notepaper, and I shall never see +whether you have grown older, and you shall never deplore that +Gower Woodsere should have declined into the pantaloon TUSITALA. +It is perhaps better so. Let us continue to see each other as we +were, and accept, my dear Meredith, my love and respect. + +ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. + +P.S. - My wife joins me in the kindest messages to yourself and +Mariette. + + + +Letter: TO CHARLES BAXTER + + + +[VAILIMA], APRIL 17, '94. + +MY DEAR CHARLES, - ST. IVES is now well on its way into the second +volume. There remains no mortal doubt that it will reach the three +volume standard. + +I am very anxious that you should send me - + +1ST. TOM AND JERRY, a cheap edition. + +2nd. The book by Ashton - the DAWN OF THE CENTURY, I think it was +called - which Colvin sent me, and which has miscarried, and + +3rd. If it is possible, a file of the EDINBURGH COURANT for the +years 1811, 1812, 1813, or 1814. I should not care for a whole +year. If it were possible to find me three months, winter months +by preference, it would do my business not only for ST. IVES, but +for the JUSTICE-CLERK as well. Suppose this to be impossible, +perhaps I could get the loan of it from somebody; or perhaps it +would be possible to have some one read a file for me and make +notes. This would be extremely bad, as unhappily one man's food is +another man's poison, and the reader would probably leave out +everything I should choose. But if you are reduced to that, you +might mention to the man who is to read for me that balloon +ascensions are in the order of the day. + +4th. It might be as well to get a book on balloon ascension, +particularly in the early part of the century. + +. . . . . + +III. At last this book has come from Scribner, and, alas! I have +the first six or seven chapters of ST. IVES to recast entirely. +Who could foresee that they clothed the French prisoners in yellow? +But that one fatal fact - and also that they shaved them twice a +week - damns the whole beginning. If it had been sent in time, it +would have saved me a deal of trouble. . . . + +I have had a long letter from Dr. Scott Dalgleish, 25 Mayfield +Terrace, asking me to put my name down to the Ballantyne Memorial +Committee. I have sent him a pretty sharp answer in favour of +cutting down the memorial and giving more to the widow and +children. If there is to be any foolery in the way of statues or +other trash, please send them a guinea; but if they are going to +take my advice and put up a simple tablet with a few heartfelt +words, and really devote the bulk of the subscriptions to the wife +and family, I will go to the length of twenty pounds, if you will +allow me (and if the case of the family be at all urgent), and at +least I direct you to send ten pounds. I suppose you had better +see Scott Dalgleish himself on the matter. I take the opportunity +here to warn you that my head is simply spinning with a multitude +of affairs, and I shall probably forget a half of my business at +last. + +R. L. S. + + + +Letter: TO MRS. SITWELL + + + +VAILIMA, APRIL 1894. + +MY DEAR FRIEND, - I have at last got some photographs, and hasten +to send you, as you asked, a portrait of Tusitala. He is a strange +person; not so lean, say experts, but infinitely battered; mighty +active again on the whole; going up and down our break-neck road at +all hours of the day and night on horseback; holding meetings with +all manner of chiefs; quite a political personage - God save the +mark! - in a small way, but at heart very conscious of the +inevitable flat failure that awaits every one. I shall never do a +better book than CATRIONA, that is my high-water mark, and the +trouble of production increases on me at a great rate - and mighty +anxious about how I am to leave my family: an elderly man, with +elderly preoccupations, whom I should be ashamed to show you for +your old friend; but not a hope of my dying soon and cleanly, and +'winning off the stage.' Rather I am daily better in physical +health. I shall have to see this business out, after all; and I +think, in that case, they should have - they might have - spared me +all my ill-health this decade past, if it were not to unbar the +doors. I have no taste for old age, and my nose is to be rubbed in +it in spite of my face. I was meant to die young, and the gods do +not love me. + +This is very like an epitaph, bar the handwriting, which is +anything but monumental, and I dare say I had better stop. Fanny +is down at her own cottage planting or deplanting or replanting, I +know not which, and she will not be home till dinner, by which time +the mail will be all closed, else she would join me in all good +messages and remembrances of love. I hope you will congratulate +Burne Jones from me on his baronetcy. I cannot make out to be +anything but raspingly, harrowingly sad; so I will close, and not +affect levity which I cannot feel. Do not altogether forget me; +keep a corner of your memory for the exile + +LOUIS. + + + +Letter: TO CHARLES BAXTER + + + +[VAILIMA, MAY 1894.] + +MY DEAR CHARLES, - My dear fellow, I wish to assure you of the +greatness of the pleasure that this Edinburgh Edition gives me. I +suppose it was your idea to give it that name. No other would have +affected me in the same manner. Do you remember, how many years +ago - I would be afraid to hazard a guess - one night when I +communicated to you certain intimations of early death and +aspirations after fame? I was particularly maudlin; and my remorse +the next morning on a review of my folly has written the matter +very deeply in my mind; from yours it may easily have fled. If any +one at that moment could have shown me the Edinburgh Edition, I +suppose I should have died. It is with gratitude and wonder that I +consider 'the way in which I have been led.' Could a more +preposterous idea have occurred to us in those days when we used to +search our pockets for coppers, too often in vain, and combine +forces to produce the threepence necessary for two glasses of beer, +or wander down the Lothian Road without any, than that I should be +strong and well at the age of forty-three in the island of Upolu, +and that you should be at home bringing out the Edinburgh Edition? +If it had been possible, I should almost have preferred the Lothian +Road Edition, say, with a picture of the old Dutch smuggler on the +covers. I have now something heavy on my mind. I had always a +great sense of kinship with poor Robert Fergusson - so clever a +boy, so wild, of such a mixed strain, so unfortunate, born in the +same town with me, and, as I always felt, rather by express +intimation than from evidence, so like myself. Now the injustice +with which the one Robert is rewarded and the other left out in the +cold sits heavy on me, and I wish you could think of some way in +which I could do honour to my unfortunate namesake. Do you think +it would look like affectation to dedicate the whole edition to his +memory? I think it would. The sentiment which would dictate it to +me is too abstruse; and besides, I think my wife is the proper +person to receive the dedication of my life's work. At the same +time, it is very odd - it really looks like the transmigration of +souls - I feel that I must do something for Fergusson; Burns has +been before me with the gravestone. It occurs to me you might take +a walk down the Canongate and see in what condition the stone is. +If it be at all uncared for, we might repair it, and perhaps add a +few words of inscription. + +I must tell you, what I just remembered in a flash as I was walking +about dictating this letter - there was in the original plan of the +MASTER OF BALLANTRAE a sort of introduction describing my arrival +in Edinburgh on a visit to yourself and your placing in my hands +the papers of the story. I actually wrote it, and then condemned +the idea - as being a little too like Scott, I suppose. Now I must +really find the MS. and try to finish it for the E. E. It will +give you, what I should so much like you to have, another corner of +your own in that lofty monument. + +Suppose we do what I have proposed about Fergusson's monument, I +wonder if an inscription like this would look arrogant - + + +This stone originally erected +by Robert Burns has been +repaired at the +charges of Robert Louis Stevenson, +and is by him re-dedicated to +the memory of Robert Fergusson, +as the gift of one Edinburgh +lad to another. + + +In spacing this inscription I would detach the names of Fergusson +and Burns, but leave mine in the text. + +Or would that look like sham modesty, and is it better to bring out +the three Roberts? + + + +Letter: TO R. A. M. STEVENSON + + + +VAILIMA, JUNE 1894. + +MY DEAR BOB, - I must make out a letter this mail or perish in the +attempt. All the same, I am deeply stupid, in bed with a cold, +deprived of my amanuensis, and conscious of the wish but not the +furnished will. You may be interested to hear how the family +inquiries go. It is now quite certain that we are a second-rate +lot, and came out of Cunningham or Clydesdale, therefore BRITISH +folk; so that you are Cymry on both sides, and I Cymry and Pict. +We may have fought with King Arthur and known Merlin. The first of +the family, Stevenson of Stevenson, was quite a great party, and +dates back to the wars of Edward First. The last male heir of +Stevenson of Stevenson died 1670, 220 pounds, 10s. to the bad, from +drink. About the same time the Stevensons, who were mostly in +Cunningham before, crop up suddenly in the parish of Neilston, over +the border in Renfrewshire. Of course, they may have been there +before, but there is no word of them in that parish till 1675 in +any extracts I have. Our first traceable ancestor was a tenant +farmer of Muir of Cauldwells - James in Nether-Carsewell. +Presently two families of maltmen are found in Glasgow, both, by +re-duplicated proofs, related to James (the son of James) in Nether +Carsewell. We descend by his second marriage from Robert; one of +these died 1733. It is not very romantic up to now, but has +interested me surprisingly to fish out, always hoping for more - +and occasionally getting at least a little clearness and +confirmation. But the earliest date, 1655, apparently the marriage +of James in Nether Carsewell, cannot as yet be pushed back. From +which of any number of dozen little families in Cunningham we +should derive, God knows! Of course, it doesn't matter a hundred +years hence, an argument fatal to all human enterprise, industry, +or pleasure. And to me it will be a deadly disappointment if I +cannot roll this stone away! One generation further might be +nothing, but it is my present object of desire, and we are so near +it! There is a man in the same parish called Constantine; if I +could only trace to him, I could take you far afield by that one +talisman of the strange Christian name of Constantine. But no such +luck! And I kind of fear we shall stick at James. + +So much, though all inchoate, I trouble you with, knowing that you, +at least, must take an interest in it. So much is certain of that +strange Celtic descent, that the past has an interest for it +apparently gratuitous, but fiercely strong. I wish to trace my +ancestors a thousand years, if I trace them by gallowses. It is +not love, not pride, not admiration; it is an expansion of the +identity, intimately pleasing, and wholly uncritical; I can expend +myself in the person of an inglorious ancestor with perfect +comfort; or a disgraced, if I could find one. I suppose, perhaps, +it is more to me who am childless, and refrain with a certain shock +from looking forwards. But, I am sure, in the solid grounds of +race, that you have it also in some degree. + +I. JAMES, a tenant of the Muirs, in Nether-Carsewell, + Neilston, married (1665?) Jean Keir. + || | + || | + || | + +-----------------------------------------+ + II. ROBERT (Maltman in Glasgow), died 1733, + | married 1st; married second, + | Elizabeth Cumming. + | || + | || + William (Maltman in || + Glasgow). +--------------+ + | | + | | ++-------------+--------------+ III. ROBERT (Maltman +ROBERT, MARION, ELIZABETH. in Glasgow), married + Margaret Fulton (had +NOTE. - Between 1730-1766 flourished a large family). +in Glasgow Alan the Coppersmith, who || +acts as a kind of a pin to the whole || +Stevenson system there. He was caution IV. ALAN, West India +to Robert the Second's will, and to merchant, married +William's will, and to the will of a Jean Lillie. +John, another maltman. || + || + V. ROBERT, married + Jean Smith. + | + VI. ALAN. - Margaret + Jones + | + VII. R. A. M. S. + + +Enough genealogy. I do not know if you will be able to read my +hand. Unhappily, Belle, who is my amanuensis, is out of the way on +other affairs, and I have to make the unwelcome effort. (O this is +beautiful, I am quite pleased with myself.) Graham has just +arrived last night (my mother is coming by the other steamer in +three days), and has told me of your meeting, and he said you +looked a little older than I did; so that I suppose we keep step +fairly on the downward side of the hill. He thought you looked +harassed, and I could imagine that too. I sometimes feel harassed. +I have a great family here about me, a great anxiety. The loss (to +use my grandfather's expression), the 'loss' of our family is that +we are disbelievers in the morrow - perhaps I should say, rather, +in next year. The future is ALWAYS black to us; it was to Robert +Stevenson; to Thomas; I suspect to Alan; to R. A. M. S. it was so +almost to his ruin in youth; to R. L. S., who had a hard hopeful +strain in him from his mother, it was not so much so once, but +becomes daily more so. Daily so much more so, that I have a +painful difficulty in believing I can ever finish another book, or +that the public will ever read it. + +I have so huge a desire to know exactly what you are doing, that I +suppose I should tell you what I am doing by way of an example. I +have a room now, a part of the twelve-foot verandah sparred in, at +the most inaccessible end of the house. Daily I see the sunrise +out of my bed, which I still value as a tonic, a perpetual tuning +fork, a look of God's face once in the day. At six my breakfast +comes up to me here, and I work till eleven. If I am quite well, I +sometimes go out and bathe in the river before lunch, twelve. In +the afternoon I generally work again, now alone drafting, now with +Belle dictating. Dinner is at six, and I am often in bed by eight. +This is supposing me to stay at home. But I must often be away, +sometimes all day long, sometimes till twelve, one, or two at +night, when you might see me coming home to the sleeping house, +sometimes in a trackless darkness, sometimes with a glorious tropic +moon, everything drenched with dew - unsaddling and creeping to +bed; and you would no longer be surprised that I live out in this +country, and not in Bournemouth - in bed. + +My great recent interruptions have (as you know) come from +politics; not much in my line, you will say. But it is impossible +to live here and not feel very sorely the consequences of the +horrid white mismanagement. I tried standing by and looking on, +and it became too much for me. They are such illogical fools; a +logical fool in an office, with a lot of red tape, is conceivable. +Furthermore, he is as much as we have any reason to expect of +officials - a thoroughly common-place, unintellectual lot. But +these people are wholly on wires; laying their ears down, skimming +away, pausing as though shot, and presto! full spread on the other +tack. I observe in the official class mostly an insane jealousy of +the smallest kind, as compared to which the artist's is of a grave, +modest character - the actor's, even; a desire to extend his little +authority, and to relish it like a glass of wine, that is +IMPAYABLE. Sometimes, when I see one of these little kings +strutting over one of his victories - wholly illegal, perhaps, and +certain to be reversed to his shame if his superiors ever heard of +it - I could weep. The strange thing is that they HAVE NOTHING +ELSE. I auscultate them in vain; no real sense of duty, no real +comprehension, no real attempt to comprehend, no wish for +information - you cannot offend one of them more bitterly than by +offering information, though it is certain that you have MORE, and +obvious that you have OTHER, information than they have; and +talking of policy, they could not play a better stroke than by +listening to you, and it need by no means influence their action. +TENEZ, you know what a French post office or railway official is? +That is the diplomatic card to the life. Dickens is not in it; +caricature fails. + +All this keeps me from my work, and gives me the unpleasant side of +the world. When your letters are disbelieved it makes you angry, +and that is rot; and I wish I could keep out of it with all my +soul. But I have just got into it again, and farewell peace! + +My work goes along but slowly. I have got to a crossing place, I +suppose; the present book, SAINT IVES, is nothing; it is in no +style in particular, a tissue of adventures, the central character +not very well done, no philosophic pith under the yarn; and, in +short, if people will read it, that's all I ask; and if they won't, +damn them! I like doing it though; and if you ask me why! - after +that I am on WEIR OF HERMISTON and HEATHERCAT, two Scotch stories, +which will either be something different, or I shall have failed. +The first is generally designed, and is a private story of two or +three characters in a very grim vein. The second - alas! the +thought - is an attempt at a real historical novel, to present a +whole field of time; the race - our own race - the west land and +Clydesdale blue bonnets, under the influence of their last trial, +when they got to a pitch of organisation in madness that no other +peasantry has ever made an offer at. I was going to call it THE +KILLING TIME, but this man Crockett has forestalled me in that. +Well, it'll be a big smash if I fail in it; but a gallant attempt. +All my weary reading as a boy, which you remember well enough, will +come to bear on it; and if my mind will keep up to the point it was +in a while back, perhaps I can pull it through. + +For two months past, Fanny, Belle, Austin (her child), and I have +been alone; but yesterday, as I mentioned, Graham Balfour arrived, +and on Wednesday my mother and Lloyd will make up the party to its +full strength. I wish you could drop in for a month or a week, or +two hours. That is my chief want. On the whole, it is an +unexpectedly pleasant corner I have dropped into for an end of it, +which I could scarcely have foreseen from Wilson's shop, or the +Princes Street Gardens, or the Portobello Road. Still, I would +like to hear what my ALTER EGO thought of it; and I would sometimes +like to have my old MAITRE ES ARTS express an opinion on what I do. +I put this very tamely, being on the whole a quiet elderly man; but +it is a strong passion with me, though intermittent. Now, try to +follow my example and tell me something about yourself, Louisa, the +Bab, and your work; and kindly send me some specimens of what +you're about. I have only seen one thing by you, about Notre Dame +in the WESTMINSTER or ST. JAMES'S, since I left England, now I +suppose six years ago. + +I have looked this trash over, and it is not at all the letter I +wanted to write - not truck about officials, ancestors, and the +like rancidness - but you have to let your pen go in its own +broken-down gait, like an old butcher's pony, stop when it pleases, +and go on again as it will. - Ever, my dear Bob, your affectionate +cousin, + +R. L. STEVENSON. + + + +Letter: TO HENRY JAMES + + + +VAILIMA, JULY 7TH, 1894. + +DEAR HENRY JAMES, - I am going to try and dictate to you a letter +or a note, and begin the same without any spark of hope, my mind +being entirely in abeyance. This malady is very bitter on the +literary man. I have had it now coming on for a month, and it +seems to get worse instead of better. If it should prove to be +softening of the brain, a melancholy interest will attach to the +present document. I heard a great deal about you from my mother +and Graham Balfour; the latter declares that you could take a First +in any Samoan subject. If that be so, I should like to hear you on +the theory of the constitution. Also to consult you on the force +of the particles O LO 'O and UA, which are the subject of a dispute +among local pundits. You might, if you ever answer this, give me +your opinion on the origin of the Samoan race, just to complete the +favour. + +They both say that you are looking well, and I suppose I may +conclude from that that you are feeling passably. I wish I was. +Do not suppose from this that I am ill in body; it is the numskull +that I complain of. And when that is wrong, as you must be very +keenly aware, you begin every day with a smarting disappointment, +which is not good for the temper. I am in one of the humours when +a man wonders how any one can be such an ass as to embrace the +profession of letters, and not get apprenticed to a barber or keep +a baked-potato stall. But I have no doubt in the course of a week, +or perhaps to-morrow, things will look better. + +We have at present in port the model warship of Great Britain. She +is called the CURACOA, and has the nicest set of officers and men +conceivable. They, the officers, are all very intimate with us, +and the front verandah is known as the Curacoa Club, and the road +up to Vailima is known as the Curacoa Track. It was rather a +surprise to me; many naval officers have I known, and somehow had +not learned to think entirely well of them, and perhaps sometimes +ask myself a little uneasily how that kind of men could do great +actions? and behold! the answer comes to me, and I see a ship that +I would guarantee to go anywhere it was possible for men to go, and +accomplish anything it was permitted man to attempt. I had a +cruise on board of her not long ago to Manu'a, and was delighted. +The goodwill of all on board; the grim playfulness of - quarters, +with the wounded falling down at the word; the ambulances hastening +up and carrying them away; the Captain suddenly crying, 'Fire in +the ward-room!' and the squad hastening forward with the hose; and, +last and most curious spectacle of all, all the men in their dust- +coloured fatigue clothes, at a note of the bugle, falling +simultaneously flat on deck, and the ship proceeding with its +prostrate crew - QUASI to ram an enemy; our dinner at night in a +wild open anchorage, the ship rolling almost to her gunwales, and +showing us alternately her bulwarks up in the sky, and then the +wild broken cliffy palm-crested shores of the island with the surf +thundering and leaping close aboard. We had the ward-room mess on +deck, lit by pink wax tapers, everybody, of course, in uniform but +myself, and the first lieutenant (who is a rheumaticky body) +wrapped in a boat cloak. Gradually the sunset faded out, the +island disappeared from the eye, though it remained menacingly +present to the ear with the voice of the surf; and then the captain +turned on the searchlight and gave us the coast, the beach, the +trees, the native houses, and the cliffs by glimpses of daylight, a +kind of deliberate lightning. About which time, I suppose, we must +have come as far as the dessert, and were probably drinking our +first glass of port to Her Majesty. We stayed two days at the +island, and had, in addition, a very picturesque snapshot at the +native life. The three islands of Manu'a are independent, and are +ruled over by a little slip of a half-caste girl about twenty, who +sits all day in a pink gown, in a little white European house with +about a quarter of an acre of roses in front of it, looking at the +palm-trees on the village street, and listening to the surf. This, +so far as I could discover, was all she had to do. 'This is a very +dull place,' she said. It appears she could go to no other village +for fear of raising the jealousy of her own people in the capital. +And as for going about 'tafatafaoing,' as we say here, its cost was +too enormous. A strong able-bodied native must walk in front of +her and blow the conch shell continuously from the moment she +leaves one house until the moment she enters another. Did you ever +blow the conch shell? I presume not; but the sweat literally +hailed off that man, and I expected every moment to see him burst a +blood-vessel. We were entertained to kava in the guest-house with +some very original features. The young men who run for the KAVA +have a right to misconduct themselves AD LIBITUM on the way back; +and though they were told to restrain themselves on the occasion of +our visit, there was a strange hurly-burly at their return, when +they came beating the trees and the posts of the houses, leaping, +shouting, and yelling like Bacchants. + +I tasted on that occasion what it is to be great. My name was +called next after the captain's, and several chiefs (a thing quite +new to me, and not at all Samoan practice) drank to me by name. + +And now, if you are not sick of the CURACOA and Manu'a, I am, at +least on paper. And I decline any longer to give you examples of +how not to write. + +By the by, you sent me long ago a work by Anatole France, which I +confess I did not TASTE. Since then I have made the acquaintance +of the ABBE COIGNARD, and have become a faithful adorer. I don't +think a better book was ever written. + +And I have no idea what I have said, and I have no idea what I +ought to have said, and I am a total ass, but my heart is in the +right place, and I am, my dear Henry James, yours, + +R. L. S. + + + +Letter: TO MR. MARCEL SCHWOB + + + +VAILIMA, UPOLU, SAMOA, JULY 7, 1894. + +DEAR MR. MARCEL SCHWOB, - Thank you for having remembered me in my +exile. I have read MIMES twice as a whole; and now, as I write, I +am reading it again as it were by accident, and a piece at a time, +my eye catching a word and travelling obediently on through the +whole number. It is a graceful book, essentially graceful, with +its haunting agreeable melancholy, its pleasing savour of +antiquity. At the same time, by its merits, it shows itself rather +as the promise of something else to come than a thing final in +itself. You have yet to give us - and I am expecting it with +impatience - something of a larger gait; something daylit, not +twilit; something with the colours of life, not the flat tints of a +temple illumination; something that shall be SAID with all the +clearnesses and the trivialities of speech, not SUNG like a semi- +articulate lullaby. It will not please yourself as well, when you +come to give it us, but it will please others better. It will be +more of a whole, more worldly, more nourished, more commonplace - +and not so pretty, perhaps not even so beautiful. No man knows +better than I that, as we go on in life, we must part from +prettiness and the graces. We but attain qualities to lose them; +life is a series of farewells, even in art; even our proficiencies +are deciduous and evanescent. So here with these exquisite pieces +the XVIIth, XVIIIth, and IVth of the present collection. You will +perhaps never excel them; I should think the 'Hermes,' never. +Well, you will do something else, and of that I am in expectation. +- Yours cordially, + +ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. + + + +Letter: TO A. ST. GAUDENS + + + +VAILIMA, SAMOA, JULY 8, 1894. + +MY DEAR ST. GAUDENS, - This is to tell you that the medallion has +been at last triumphantly transported up the hill and placed over +my smoking-room mantelpiece. It is considered by everybody a +first-rate but flattering portrait. We have it in a very good +light, which brings out the artistic merits of the god-like +sculptor to great advantage. As for my own opinion, I believe it +to be a speaking likeness, and not flattered at all; possibly a +little the reverse. The verses (curse the rhyme) look remarkably +well. + +Please do not longer delay, but send me an account for the expense +of the gilt letters. I was sorry indeed that they proved beyond +the means of a small farmer. - Yours very sincerely, + +ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. + + + +Letter: TO MISS ADELAIDE BOODLE + + + +VAILIMA, JULY 14, 1894. + +MY DEAR ADELAIDE, - . . . So, at last, you are going into mission +work? where I think your heart always was. You will like it in a +way, but remember it is dreary long. Do you know the story of the +American tramp who was offered meals and a day's wage to chop with +the back of an axe on a fallen trunk. 'Damned if I can go on +chopping when I can't see the chips fly!' You will never see the +chips fly in mission work, never; and be sure you know it +beforehand. The work is one long dull disappointment, varied by +acute revulsions; and those who are by nature courageous and +cheerful and have grown old in experience, learn to rub their hands +over infinitesimal successes. However, as I really believe there +is some good done in the long run - GUTTA CAVAT LAPIDEM NON VI in +this business - it is a useful and honourable career in which no +one should be ashamed to embark. Always remember the fable of the +sun, the storm, and the traveller's cloak. Forget wholly and for +ever all small pruderies, and remember that YOU CANNOT CHANGE +ANCESTRAL FEELINGS OF RIGHT AND WRONG WITHOUT WHAT IS PRACTICALLY +SOUL-MURDER. Barbarous as the customs may seem, always hear them +with patience, always judge them with gentleness, always find in +them some seed of good; see that you always develop them; remember +that all you can do is to civilise the man in the line of his own +civilisation, such as it is. And never expect, never believe in, +thaumaturgic conversions. They may do very well for St. Paul; in +the case of an Andaman islander they mean less than nothing. In +fact, what you have to do is to teach the parents in the interests +of their great-grandchildren. + +Now, my dear Adelaide, dismiss from your mind the least idea of +fault upon your side; nothing is further from the fact. I cannot +forgive you, for I do not know your fault. My own is plain enough, +and the name of it is cold-hearted neglect; and you may busy +yourself more usefully in trying to forgive me. But ugly as my +fault is, you must not suppose it to mean more than it does; it +does not mean that we have at all forgotten you, that we have +become at all indifferent to the thought of you. See, in my life +of Jenkin, a remark of his, very well expressed, on the friendships +of men who do not write to each other. I can honestly say that I +have not changed to you in any way; though I have behaved thus ill, +thus cruelly. Evil is done by want of - well, principally by want +of industry. You can imagine what I would say (in a novel) of any +one who had behaved as I have done, DETERIORA SEQUOR. And you must +somehow manage to forgive your old friend; and if you will be so +very good, continue to give us news of you, and let us share the +knowledge of your adventures, sure that it will be always followed +with interest - even if it is answered with the silence of +ingratitude. For I am not a fool; I know my faults, I know they +are ineluctable, I know they are growing on me. I know I may +offend again, and I warn you of it. But the next time I offend, +tell me so plainly and frankly like a lady, and don't lacerate my +heart and bludgeon my vanity with imaginary faults of your own and +purely gratuitous penitence. I might suspect you of irony! + +We are all fairly well, though I have been off work and off - as +you know very well - letter-writing. Yet I have sometimes more +than twenty letters, and sometimes more than thirty, going out each +mail. And Fanny has had a most distressing bronchitis for some +time, which she is only now beginning to get over. I have just +been to see her; she is lying - though she had breakfast an hour +ago, about seven - in her big cool, mosquito-proof room, +ingloriously asleep. As for me, you see that a doom has come upon +me: I cannot make marks with a pen - witness 'ingloriously' above; +and my amanuensis not appearing so early in the day, for she is +then immersed in household affairs, and I can hear her 'steering +the boys' up and down the verandahs - you must decipher this +unhappy letter for yourself and, I fully admit, with everything +against you. A letter should be always well written; how much more +a letter of apology! Legibility is the politeness of men of +letters, as punctuality of kings and beggars. By the punctuality +of my replies, and the beauty of my hand-writing, judge what a fine +conscience I must have! + +Now, my dear gamekeeper, I must really draw to a close. For I have +much else to write before the mail goes out three days hence. +Fanny being asleep, it would not be conscientious to invent a +message from her, so you must just imagine her sentiments. I find +I have not the heart to speak of your recent loss. You remember +perhaps, when my father died, you told me those ugly images of +sickness, decline, and impaired reason, which then haunted me day +and night, would pass away and be succeeded by things more happily +characteristic. I have found it so. He now haunts me, strangely +enough, in two guises; as a man of fifty, lying on a hillside and +carving mottoes on a stick, strong and well; and as a younger man, +running down the sands into the sea near North Berwick, myself - +AETAT. II - somewhat horrified at finding him so beautiful when +stripped! I hand on your own advice to you in case you have +forgotten it, as I know one is apt to do in seasons of bereavement. +- Ever yours, with much love and sympathy, + +ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. + + + +Letter: TO MRS. BAKER + + + +VAILIMA, SAMOA, JULY 16, 1894. + +DEAR MRS. BAKER, - I am very much obliged to you for your letter +and the enclosure from Mr. Skinner. Mr. Skinner says he 'thinks +Mr. Stevenson must be a very kind man'; he little knows me. But I +am very sure of one thing, that you are a very kind woman. I envy +you - my amanuensis being called away, I continue in my own hand, +or what is left of it - unusually legible, I am thankful to see - I +envy you your beautiful choice of an employment. There must be no +regrets at least for a day so spent; and when the night falls you +need ask no blessing on your work. + +'Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of these.' - Yours truly, + +ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. + + + +Letter: TO J. M. BARRIE + + + +VAILIMA, JULY 13, 1894. + +MY DEAR BARRIE, - This is the last effort of an ulcerated +conscience. I have been so long owing you a letter, I have heard +so much of you, fresh from the press, from my mother and Graham +Balfour, that I have to write a letter no later than to-day, or +perish in my shame. But the deuce of it is, my dear fellow, that +you write such a very good letter that I am ashamed to exhibit +myself before my junior (which you are, after all) in the light of +the dreary idiot I feel. Understand that there will be nothing +funny in the following pages. If I can manage to be rationally +coherent, I shall be more than satisfied. + +In the first place, I have had the extreme satisfaction to be shown +that photograph of your mother. It bears evident traces of the +hand of an amateur. How is it that amateurs invariably take better +photographs than professionals? I must qualify invariably. My own +negatives have always represented a province of chaos and old night +in which you might dimly perceive fleecy spots of twilight, +representing nothing; so that, if I am right in supposing the +portrait of your mother to be yours, I must salute you as my +superior. Is that your mother's breakfast? Or is it only +afternoon tea? If the first, do let me recommend to Mrs. Barrie to +add an egg to her ordinary. Which, if you please, I will ask her +to eat to the honour of her son, and I am sure she will live much +longer for it, to enjoy his fresh successes. I never in my life +saw anything more deliciously characteristic. I declare I can hear +her speak. I wonder my mother could resist the temptation of your +proposed visit to Kirriemuir, which it was like your kindness to +propose. By the way, I was twice in Kirriemuir, I believe in the +year '71, when I was going on a visit to Glenogil. It was +Kirriemuir, was it not? I have a distinct recollection of an inn +at the end - I think the upper end - of an irregular open place or +square, in which I always see your characters evolve. But, indeed, +I did not pay much attention; being all bent upon my visit to a +shooting-box, where I should fish a real trout-stream, and I +believe preserved. I did, too, and it was a charming stream, clear +as crystal, without a trace of peat - a strange thing in Scotland - +and alive with trout; the name of it I cannot remember, it was +something like the Queen's River, and in some hazy way connected +with memories of Mary Queen of Scots. It formed an epoch in my +life, being the end of all my trout-fishing. I had always been +accustomed to pause and very laboriously to kill every fish as I +took it. But in the Queen's River I took so good a basket that I +forgot these niceties; and when I sat down, in a hard rain shower, +under a bank, to take my sandwiches and sherry, lo! and behold, +there was the basketful of trouts still kicking in their agony. I +had a very unpleasant conversation with my conscience. All that +afternoon I persevered in fishing, brought home my basket in +triumph, and sometime that night, 'in the wee sma' hours ayont the +twal,' I finally forswore the gentle craft of fishing. I dare say +your local knowledge may identify this historic river; I wish it +could go farther and identify also that particular Free kirk in +which I sat and groaned on Sunday. While my hand is in I must tell +you a story. At that antique epoch you must not fall into the +vulgar error that I was myself ancient. I was, on the contrary, +very young, very green, and (what you will appreciate, Mr. Barrie) +very shy. There came one day to lunch at the house two very +formidable old ladies - or one very formidable, and the other what +you please - answering to the honoured and historic name of the +Miss C- A-'s of Balnamoon. At table I was exceedingly funny, and +entertained the company with tales of geese and bubbly-jocks. I +was great in the expression of my terror for these bipeds, and +suddenly this horrid, severe, and eminently matronly old lady put +up a pair of gold eye-glasses, looked at me awhile in silence, and +pronounced in a clangorous voice her verdict. 'You give me very +much the effect of a coward, Mr. Stevenson!' I had very nearly +left two vices behind me at Glenogil - fishing and jesting at +table. And of one thing you may be very sure, my lips were no more +opened at that meal. + +JULY 29TH + +No, Barrie, 'tis in vain they try to alarm me with their bulletins. +No doubt, you're ill, and unco ill, I believe; but I have been so +often in the same case that I know pleurisy and pneumonia are in +vain against Scotsmen who can write, (I once could.) You cannot +imagine probably how near me this common calamity brings you. CE +QUE J'AI TOUSSE DANS MA VIE! How often and how long have I been on +the rack at night and learned to appreciate that noble passage in +the Psalms when somebody or other is said to be more set on +something than they 'who dig for hid treasures - yea, than those +who long for the morning' - for all the world, as you have been +racked and you have longed. Keep your heart up, and you'll do. +Tell that to your mother, if you are still in any danger or +suffering. And by the way, if you are at all like me - and I tell +myself you are very like me - be sure there is only one thing good +for you, and that is the sea in hot climates. Mount, sir, into 'a +little frigot' of 5000 tons or so, and steer peremptorily for the +tropics; and what if the ancient mariner, who guides your frigot, +should startle the silence of the ocean with the cry of land ho! - +say, when the day is dawning - and you should see the turquoise +mountain tops of Upolu coming hand over fist above the horizon? +Mr. Barrie, sir, 'tis then there would be larks! And though I +cannot be certain that our climate would suit you (for it does not +suit some), I am sure as death the voyage would do you good - would +do you BEST - and if Samoa didn't do, you needn't stay beyond the +month, and I should have had another pleasure in my life, which is +a serious consideration for me. I take this as the hand of the +Lord preparing your way to Vailima - in the desert, certainly - in +the desert of Cough and by the ghoul-haunted woodland of Fever - +but whither that way points there can be no question - and there +will be a meeting of the twa Hoasting Scots Makers in spite of +fate, fortune, and the Devil. ABSIT OMEN! + +My dear Barrie, I am a little in the dark about this new work of +yours: what is to become of me afterwards? You say carefully - +methought anxiously - that I was no longer me when I grew up? I +cannot bear this suspense: what is it? It's no forgery? And AM I +HANGIT? These are the elements of a very pretty lawsuit which you +had better come to Samoa to compromise. I am enjoying a great +pleasure that I had long looked forward to, reading Orme's HISTORY +OF INDOSTAN; I had been looking out for it everywhere; but at last, +in four volumes, large quarto, beautiful type and page, and with a +delectable set of maps and plans, and all the names of the places +wrongly spelled - it came to Samoa, little Barrie. I tell you +frankly, you had better come soon. I am sair failed a'ready; and +what I may be if you continue to dally, I dread to conceive. I may +be speechless; already, or at least for a month or so, I'm little +better than a teetoller - I beg pardon, a teetotaller. It is not +exactly physical, for I am in good health, working four or five +hours a day in my plantation, and intending to ride a paper-chase +next Sunday - ay, man, that's a fact, and I havena had the hert to +breathe it to my mother yet - the obligation's poleetical, for I am +trying every means to live well with my German neighbours - and, O +Barrie, but it's no easy! To be sure, there are many exceptions. +And the whole of the above must be regarded as private - strictly +private. Breathe it not in Kirriemuir: tell it not to the +daughters of Dundee! What a nice extract this would make for the +daily papers! and how it would facilitate my position here! . . . + +AUGUST 5TH. + +This is Sunday, the Lord's Day. 'The hour of attack approaches.' +And it is a singular consideration what I risk; I may yet be the +subject of a tract, and a good tract too - such as one which I +remember reading with recreant awe and rising hair in my youth, of +a boy who was a very good boy, and went to Sunday Schule, and one +day kipped from it, and went and actually bathed, and was dashed +over a waterfall, and he was the only son of his mother, and she +was a widow. A dangerous trade, that, and one that I have to +practise. I'll put in a word when I get home again, to tell you +whether I'm killed or not. 'Accident in the (Paper) Hunting Field: +death of a notorious author. We deeply regret to announce the +death of the most unpopular man in Samoa, who broke his neck at the +descent of Magagi, from the misconduct of his little raving lunatic +of an old beast of a pony. It is proposed to commemorate the +incident by the erection of a suitable pile. The design (by our +local architect, Mr. Walker) is highly artificial, with a rich and +voluminous Crockett at each corner, a small but impervious Barrieer +at the entrance, an arch at the top, an Archer of a pleasing but +solid character at the bottom; the colour will be genuine William- +Black; and Lang, lang may the ladies sit wi' their fans in their +hands.' Well, well, they may sit as they sat for me, and little +they'll reck, the ungrateful jauds! Muckle they cared about +Tusitala when they had him! But now ye can see the difference; +now, leddies, ye can repent, when ower late, o' your former +cauldness and what ye'll perhaps allow me to ca' your TEPEEDITY! +He was beautiful as the day, but his day is done! And perhaps, as +he was maybe gettin' a wee thing fly-blawn, it's nane too shune. + +MONDAY, AUGUST 6TH. + +Well, sir, I have escaped the dangerous conjunction of the widow's +only son and the Sabbath Day. We had a most enjoyable time, and +Lloyd and I were 3 and 4 to arrive; I will not tell here what +interval had elapsed between our arrival and the arrival of 1 and +2; the question, sir, is otiose and malign; it deserves, it shall +have no answer. And now without further delay to the main purpose +of this hasty note. We received and we have already in fact +distributed the gorgeous fahbrics of Kirriemuir. Whether from the +splendour of the robes themselves, or from the direct nature of the +compliments with which you had directed us to accompany the +presentations, one young lady blushed as she received the proofs of +your munificence. . . . Bad ink, and the dregs of it at that, but +the heart in the right place. Still very cordially interested in +my Barrie and wishing him well through his sickness, which is of +the body, and long defended from mine, which is of the head, and by +the impolite might be described as idiocy. The whole head is +useless, and the whole sitting part painful: reason, the recent +Paper Chase. + + +There was racing and chasing in Vailile plantation, +And vastly we enjoyed it, +But, alas! for the state of my foundation, +For it wholly has destroyed it. + + +Come, my mind is looking up. The above is wholly impromptu. - On +oath, + +TUSITALA. + +AUGUST 12, 1894 + +And here, Mr. Barrie, is news with a vengeance. Mother Hubbard's +dog is well again - what did I tell you? Pleurisy, pneumonia, and +all that kind of truck is quite unavailing against a Scotchman who +can write - and not only that, but it appears the perfidious dog is +married. This incident, so far as I remember, is omitted from the +original epic - + + +She went to the graveyard +To see him get him buried, +And when she came back +The Deil had got merried. + + +It now remains to inform you that I have taken what we call here +'German offence' at not receiving cards, and that the only +reparation I will accept is that Mrs. Barrie shall incontinently +upon the receipt of this Take and Bring you to Vailima in order to +apologise and be pardoned for this offence. The commentary of +Tamaitai upon the event was brief but pregnant: 'Well, it's a +comfort our guest-room is furnished for two.' + +This letter, about nothing, has already endured too long. I shall +just present the family to Mrs. Barrie - Tamaitai, Tamaitai Matua, +Teuila, Palema, Loia, and with an extra low bow, Yours, + +TUSITALA. + + + +Letter: TO DR. BAKEWELL + + + +VAILIMA, AUGUST 7, 1894. + +DEAR DR. BAKEWELL, - I am not more than human. I am more human +than is wholly convenient, and your anecdote was welcome. What you +say about UNWILLING WORK, my dear sir, is a consideration always +present with me, and yet not easy to give its due weight to. You +grow gradually into a certain income; without spending a penny +more, with the same sense of restriction as before when you +painfully scraped two hundred a year together, you find you have +spent, and you cannot well stop spending, a far larger sum; and +this expense can only be supported by a certain production. +However, I am off work this month, and occupy myself instead in +weeding my cacao, paper chases, and the like. I may tell you, my +average of work in favourable circumstances is far greater than you +suppose: from six o'clock till eleven at latest, and often till +twelve, and again in the afternoon from two to four. My hand is +quite destroyed, as you may perceive, to-day to a really unusual +extent. I can sometimes write a decent fist still; but I have just +returned with my arms all stung from three hours' work in the +cacao. - Yours, etc., + +R. L. S. + + + +Letter: TO JAMES PAYN + + + +VAILIMA, UPOLU, SAMOA [AUGUST 11, 1894]. + +MY DEAR JAMES PAYN, - I hear from Lang that you are unwell, and it +reminds me of two circumstances: First, that it is a very long +time since you had the exquisite pleasure of hearing from me; and +second, that I have been very often unwell myself, and sometimes +had to thank you for a grateful anodyne. + +They are not good, the circumstances, to write an anodyne letter. +The hills and my house at less than (boom) a minute's interval +quake with thunder; and though I cannot hear that part of it, +shells are falling thick into the fort of Luatuanu'u (boom). It is +my friends of the CURACOA, the FALKE, and the BUSSARD bombarding +(after all these - boom - months) the rebels of Atua. (Boom-boom.) +It is most distracting in itself; and the thought of the poor +devils in their fort (boom) with their bits of rifles far from +pleasant. (Boom-boom.) You can see how quick it goes, and I'll +say no more about Mr. Bow-wow, only you must understand the +perpetual accompaniment of this discomfortable sound, and make +allowances for the value of my copy. It is odd, though, I can well +remember, when the Franco-Prussian war began, and I was in Eilean +Earraid, far enough from the sound of the loudest cannonade, I +could HEAR the shots fired, and I felt the pang in my breast of a +man struck. It was sometimes so distressing, so instant, that I +lay in the heather on the top of the island, with my face hid, +kicking my heels for agony. And now, when I can hear the actual +concussion of the air and hills, when I KNOW personally the people +who stand exposed to it, I am able to go on TANT BIEN QUE MAL with +a letter to James Payn! The blessings of age, though mighty small, +are tangible. I have heard a great deal of them since I came into +the world, and now that I begin to taste of them - Well! But this +is one, that people do get cured of the excess of sensibility; and +I had as lief these people were shot at as myself - or almost, for +then I should have some of the fun, such as it is. + +You are to conceive me, then, sitting in my little gallery room, +shaken by these continual spasms of cannon, and with my eye more or +less singly fixed on the imaginary figure of my dear James Payn. I +try to see him in bed; no go. I see him instead jumping up in his +room in Waterloo Place (where EX HYPOTHESI he is not), sitting on +the table, drawing out a very black briar-root pipe, and beginning +to talk to a slim and ill-dressed visitor in a voice that is good +to hear and with a smile that is pleasant to see. (After a little +more than half an hour, the voice that was ill to hear has ceased, +the cannonade is over.) And I am thinking how I can get an +answering smile wafted over so many leagues of land and water, and +can find no way. + +I have always been a great visitor of the sick; and one of the sick +I visited was W. E. Henley, which did not make very tedious visits, +so I'll not get off much purgatory for them. That was in the +Edinburgh Infirmary, the old one, the true one, with Georgius +Secundus standing and pointing his toe in a niche of the facade; +and a mighty fine building it was! And I remember one winter's +afternoon, in that place of misery, that Henley and I chanced to +fall in talk about James Payn himself. I am wishing you could have +heard that talk! I think that would make you smile. We had mixed +you up with John Payne, for one thing, and stood amazed at your +extraordinary, even painful, versatility; and for another, we found +ourselves each students so well prepared for examinations on the +novels of the real Mackay. Perhaps, after all, this is worth +something in life - to have given so much pleasure to a pair so +different in every way as were Henley and I, and to be talked of +with so much interest by two such (beg pardon) clever lads! + +The cheerful Lang has neglected to tell me what is the matter with +you; so, I'm sorry to say, I am cut off from all the customary +consolations. I can't say, 'Think how much worse it would be if +you had a broken leg!' when you may have the crushing repartee up +your sleeve, 'But it is my leg that is broken.' This is a pity. +But there are consolations. You are an Englishman (I believe); you +are a man of letters; you have never been made C.B.; your hair was +not red; you have played cribbage and whist; you did not play +either the fiddle or the banjo; you were never an aesthete; you +never contributed to -'S JOURNAL; your name is not Jabez Balfour; +you are totally unconnected with the Army and Navy departments; I +understand you to have lived within your income - why, cheer up! +here are many legitimate causes of congratulation. I seem to be +writing an obituary notice. ABSIT OMEN! But I feel very sure that +these considerations will have done you more good than medicine. + +By the by, did you ever play piquet? I have fallen a victim to +this debilitating game. It is supposed to be scientific; God save +the mark, what self-deceivers men are! It is distinctly less so +than cribbage. But how fascinating! There is such material +opulence about it, such vast ambitions may be realised - and are +not; it may be called the Monte Cristo of games. And the thrill +with which you take five cards partakes of the nature of lust - and +you draw four sevens and a nine, and the seven and nine of a suit +that you discarded, and O! but the world is a desert! You may see +traces of discouragement in my letter: all due to piquet! There +has been a disastrous turn of the luck against me; a month or two +ago I was two thousand ahead; now, and for a week back, I have been +anything from four thousand eight hundred to five thousand two +hundred astern. If I have a sixieme, my beast of a partner has a +septieme; and if I have three aces, three kings, three queens, and +three knaves (excuse the slight exaggeration), the devil holds +quatorze of tens! - I remain, my dear James Payn, your sincere and +obliged friend - old friend let me say, + +ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. + + + +Letter: TO MISS MIDDLETON + + + +VAILIMA, SAMOA, SEPTEMBER 9, 1894. + +DEAR MISS MIDDLETON, - Your letter has been like the drawing up of +a curtain. Of course I remember you very well, and the Skye +terrier to which you refer - a heavy, dull, fatted, graceless +creature he grew up to be - was my own particular pet. It may +amuse you, perhaps, as much as 'The Inn' amused me, if I tell you +what made this dog particularly mine. My father was the natural +god of all the dogs in our house, and poor Jura took to him of +course. Jura was stolen, and kept in prison somewhere for more +than a week, as I remember. When he came back Smeoroch had come +and taken my father's heart from him. He took his stand like a +man, and positively never spoke to my father again from that day +until the day of his death. It was the only sign of character he +ever showed. I took him up to my room and to be my dog in +consequence, partly because I was sorry for him, and partly because +I admired his dignity in misfortune. + +With best regards and thanks for having reminded me of so many +pleasant days, old acquaintances, dead friends, and - what is +perhaps as pathetic as any of them - dead dogs, I remain, yours +truly, + +ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. + + + +Letter: TO A. CONAN DOYLE + + + +VAILIMA, SAMOA, SEPTEMBER 9, 1894. + +MY DEAR CONAN DOYLE, - If you found anything to entertain you in my +TREASURE ISLAND article, it may amuse you to know that you owe it +entirely to yourself. YOUR 'First Book' was by some accident read +aloud one night in my Baronial 'All. I was consumedly amused by +it, so was the whole family, and we proceeded to hunt up back +IDLERS and read the whole series. It is a rattling good series, +even people whom you would not expect came in quite the proper tone +- Miss Braddon, for instance, who was really one of the best where +all are good - or all but one! ... In short, I fell in love with +'The First Book' series, and determined that it should be all our +first books, and that I could not hold back where the white plume +of Conan Doyle waved gallantly in the front. I hope they will +republish them, though it's a grievous thought to me that that +effigy in the German cap - likewise the other effigy of the noisome +old man with the long hair, telling indelicate stories to a couple +of deformed negresses in a rancid shanty full of wreckage - should +be perpetuated. I may seem to speak in pleasantry - it is only a +seeming - that German cap, sir, would be found, when I come to die, +imprinted on my heart. Enough - my heart is too full. Adieu. - +Yours very truly, + +ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON + +(in a German cap, damn 'em!) + + + +Letter: TO CHARLES BAXTER + + + +[VAILIMA, SEPTEMBER 1894.] + +MY DEAR CHARLES, - . . . Well, there is no more Edmund Baxter now; +and I think I may say I know how you feel. He was one of the best, +the kindest, and the most genial men I ever knew. I shall always +remember his brisk, cordial ways and the essential goodness which +he showed me whenever we met with gratitude. And the always is +such a little while now! He is another of the landmarks gone; when +it comes to my own turn to lay my weapons down, I shall do so with +thankfulness and fatigue; and whatever be my destiny afterward, I +shall be glad to lie down with my fathers in honour. It is human +at least, if not divine. And these deaths make me think of it with +an ever greater readiness. Strange that you should be beginning a +new life, when I, who am a little your junior, am thinking of the +end of mine. But I have had hard lines; I have been so long +waiting for death, I have unwrapped my thoughts from about life so +long, that I have not a filament left to hold by; I have done my +fiddling so long under Vesuvius, that I have almost forgotten to +play, and can only wait for the eruption, and think it long of +coming. Literally, no man has more wholly outlived life than I. +And still it's good fun. + +R. L. S. + + + +Letter: TO R. A. M. STEVENSON + + + +[VAILIMA, SEPTEMBER 1894.] + +DEAR BOB, - You are in error about the Picts. They were a Gaelic +race, spoke a Celtic tongue, and we have no evidence that I know of +that they were blacker than other Celts. The Balfours, I take it, +were plainly Celts; their name shows it - the 'cold croft,' it +means; so does their country. Where the BLACK Scotch come from +nobody knows; but I recognise with you the fact that the whole of +Britain is rapidly and progressively becoming more pigmented; +already in one man's life I can decidedly trace a difference in the +children about a school door. But colour is not an essential part +of a man or a race. Take my Polynesians, an Asiatic people +probably from the neighbourhood of the Persian gulf. They range +through any amount of shades, from the burnt hue of the Low +Archipelago islander, which seems half negro, to the 'bleached' +pretty women of the Marquesas (close by on the map), who come out +for a festival no darker than an Italian; their colour seems to +vary directly with the degree of exposure to the sun. And, as with +negroes, the babes are born white; only it should seem a LITTLE +SACK of pigment at the lower part of the spine, which presently +spreads over the whole field. Very puzzling. But to return. The +Picts furnish to-day perhaps a third of the population of Scotland, +say another third for Scots and Britons, and the third for Norse +and Angles is a bad third. Edinburgh was a Pictish place. But the +fact is, we don't know their frontiers. Tell some of your +journalist friends with a good style to popularise old Skene; or +say your prayers, and read him for yourself; he was a Great +Historian, and I was his blessed clerk, and did not know it; and +you will not be in a state of grace about the Picts till you have +studied him. J. Horne Stevenson (do you know him?) is working this +up with me, and the fact is - it's not interesting to the public - +but it's interesting, and very interesting, in itself, and just now +very embarrassing - this rural parish supplied Glasgow with such a +quantity of Stevensons in the beginning of last century! There is +just a link wanting; and we might be able to go back to the +eleventh century, always undistinguished, but clearly traceable. +When I say just a link, I guess I may be taken to mean a dozen. +What a singular thing is this undistinguished perpetuation of a +family throughout the centuries, and the sudden bursting forth of +character and capacity that began with our grandfather! But as I +go on in life, day by day, I become more of a bewildered child; I +cannot get used to this world, to procreation, to heredity, to +sight, to hearing; the commonest things are a burthen. The prim +obliterated polite face of life, and the broad, bawdy, and +orgiastic - or maenadic - foundations, form a spectacle to which no +habit reconciles me; and 'I could wish my days to be bound each to +each' by the same open-mouthed wonder. They ARE anyway, and +whether I wish it or not. + +I remember very well your attitude to life, this conventional +surface of it. You had none of that curiosity for the social stage +directions, the trivial FICELLES of the business; it is simian, but +that is how the wild youth of man is captured; you wouldn't +imitate, hence you kept free - a wild dog, outside the kennel - and +came dam' near starving for your pains. The key to the business is +of course the belly; difficult as it is to keep that in view in the +zone of three miraculous meals a day in which we were brought up. +Civilisation has become reflex with us; you might think that hunger +was the name of the best sauce; but hunger to the cold solitary +under a bush of a rainy night is the name of something quite +different. I defend civilisation for the thing it is, for the +thing it has COME to be, the standpoint of a real old Tory. My +ideal would be the Female Clan. But how can you turn these +crowding dumb multitudes BACK? They don't do anything BECAUSE; +they do things, write able articles, stitch shoes, dig, from the +purely simian impulse. Go and reason with monkeys! + +No, I am right about Jean Lillie. Jean Lillie, our double great- +grandmother, the daughter of David Lillie, sometime Deacon of the +Wrights, married, first, Alan Stevenson, who died May 26, 1774, 'at +Santt Kittes of a fiver,' by whom she had Robert Stevenson, born +8th June 1772; and, second, in May or June 1787, Thomas Smith, a +widower, and already the father of our grandmother. This +improbable double connection always tends to confuse a student of +the family, Thomas Smith being doubly our great-grandfather. + +I looked on the perpetuation of our honoured name with veneration. +My mother collared one of the photos, of course; the other is stuck +up on my wall as the chief of our sept. Do you know any of the +Gaelic-Celtic sharps? you might ask what the name means. It +puzzles me. I find a M'STEIN and a MACSTEPHANE; and our own great- +grandfather always called himself Steenson, though he wrote it +Stevenson. There are at least three PLACES called Stevenson - +STEVENSON in Cunningham, STEVENSON in Peebles, and STEVENSON in +Haddington. And it was not the Celtic trick, I understand, to call +places after people. I am going to write to Sir Herbert Maxwell +about the name, but you might find some one. + +Get the Anglo-Saxon heresy out of your head; they superimposed +their language, they scarce modified the race; only in Berwickshire +and Roxburgh have they very largely affected the place names. The +Scandinavians did much more to Scotland than the Angles. The +Saxons didn't come. + +Enough of this sham antiquarianism. Yes, it is in the matter of +the book, of course, that collaboration shows; as for the manner, +it is superficially all mine, in the sense that the last copy is +all in my hand. Lloyd did not even put pen to paper in the Paris +scenes or the Barbizon scene; it was no good; he wrote and often +rewrote all the rest; I had the best service from him on the +character of Nares. You see, we had been just meeting the man, and +his memory was full of the man's words and ways. And Lloyd is an +impressionist, pure and simple. The great difficulty of +collaboration is that you can't explain what you mean. I know what +kind of effect I mean a character to give - what kind of TACHE he +is to make; but how am I to tell my collaborator in words? Hence +it was necessary to say, 'Make him So-and-so'; and this was all +right for Nares and Pinkerton and Loudon Dodd, whom we both knew, +but for Bellairs, for instance - a man with whom I passed ten +minutes fifteen years ago - what was I to say? and what could Lloyd +do? I, as a personal artist, can begin a character with only a +haze in my head, but how if I have to translate the haze into words +before I begin? In our manner of collaboration (which I think the +only possible - I mean that of one person being responsible, and +giving the COUP DE POUCE to every part of the work) I was spared +the obviously hopeless business of trying to explain to my +collaborator what STYLE I wished a passage to be treated in. These +are the times that illustrate to a man the inadequacy of spoken +language. Now - to be just to written language - I can (or could) +find a language for my every mood, but how could I TELL any one +beforehand what this effect was to be, which it would take every +art that I possessed, and hours and hours of deliberate labour and +selection and rejection, to produce? These are the impossibilities +of collaboration. Its immediate advantage is to focus two minds +together on the stuff, and to produce in consequence an +extraordinarily greater richness of purview, consideration, and +invention. The hardest chapter of all was 'Cross Questions and +Crooked Answers.' You would not believe what that cost us before +it assumed the least unity and colour. Lloyd wrote it at least +thrice, and I at least five times - this is from memory. And was +that last chapter worth the trouble it cost? Alas, that I should +ask the question! Two classes of men - the artist and the +educationalist - are sworn, on soul and conscience, not to ask it. +You get an ordinary, grinning, red-headed boy, and you have to +educate him. Faith supports you; you give your valuable hours, the +boy does not seem to profit, but that way your duty lies, for which +you are paid, and you must persevere. Education has always seemed +to me one of the few possible and dignified ways of life. A +sailor, a shepherd, a schoolmaster - to a less degree, a soldier - +and (I don't know why, upon my soul, except as a sort of +schoolmaster's unofficial assistant, and a kind of acrobat in +tights) an artist, almost exhaust the category. + +If I had to begin again - I know not - SI JEUNESSE SAVAIT, SI +VIEILLESSE POUVAIT . . . I know not at all - I believe I should try +to honour Sex more religiously. The worst of our education is that +Christianity does not recognise and hallow Sex. It looks askance +at it, over its shoulder, oppressed as it is by reminiscences of +hermits and Asiatic self-tortures. It is a terrible hiatus in our +modern religions that they cannot see and make venerable that which +they ought to see first and hallow most. Well, it is so; I cannot +be wiser than my generation. + +But no doubt there is something great in the half-success that has +attended the effort of turning into an emotional religion, Bald +Conduct, without any appeal, or almost none, to the figurative, +mysterious, and constitutive facts of life. Not that conduct is +not constitutive, but dear! it's dreary! On the whole, conduct is +better dealt with on the cast-iron 'gentleman' and duty formula, +with as little fervour and poetry as possible; stoical and short. + +. . . There is a new something or other in the wind, which +exercises me hugely: anarchy, - I mean, anarchism. People who +(for pity's sake) commit dastardly murders very basely, die like +saints, and leave beautiful letters behind 'em (did you see +Vaillant to his daughter? it was the New Testament over again); +people whose conduct is inexplicable to me, and yet their spiritual +life higher than that of most. This is just what the early +Christians must have seemed to the Romans. Is this, then, a new +DRIVE among the monkeys? Mind you, Bob, if they go on being +martyred a few years more, the gross, dull, not unkindly bourgeois +may get tired or ashamed or afraid of going on martyring; and the +anarchists come out at the top just like the early Christians. +That is, of course, they will step into power as a PERSONNEL, but +God knows what they may believe when they come to do so; it can't +be stranger or more improbable than what Christianity had come to +be by the same time. + +Your letter was easily read, the pagination presented no +difficulty, and I read it with much edification and gusto. To look +back, and to stereotype one bygone humour - what a hopeless thing! +The mind runs ever in a thousand eddies like a river between +cliffs. You (the ego) are always spinning round in it, east, west, +north, and south. You are twenty years old, and forty, and five, +and the next moment you are freezing at an imaginary eighty; you +are never the plain forty-four that you should be by dates. (The +most philosophical language is the Gaelic, which has NO PRESENT +TENSE - and the most useless.) How, then, to choose some former +age, and stick there? + +R. L. S. + + + +Letter: TO SIR HERBERT MAXWELL + + + +VAILIMA, SAMOA, SEPTEMBER 10, 1894. + +DEAR SIR HERBERT MAXWELL, - I am emboldened by reading your very +interesting Rhind Lectures to put to you a question: What is my +name, Stevenson? + +I find it in the forms Stevinetoun, Stevensoune, Stevensonne, +Stenesone, Stewinsoune, M'Stein, and MacStephane. My family, and +(as far as I can gather) the majority of the inglorious clan, +hailed from the borders of Cunningham and Renfrew, and the upper +waters of the Clyde. In the Barony of Bothwell was the seat of the +laird Stevenson of Stevenson; but, as of course you know, there is +a parish in Cunningham and places in Peebles and Haddington bearing +the same name. + +If you can at all help me, you will render me a real service which +I wish I could think of some manner to repay. - Believe me, yours +truly, + +ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. + +P.S. - I should have added that I have perfect evidence before me +that (for some obscure reason) Stevenson was a favourite alias with +the M'Gregors. + + + +Letter: TO ALISON CUNNINGHAM + + + +[VAILIMA], OCTOBER 8TH 1894. + +MY DEAR CUMMY, - So I hear you are ailing? Think shame to +yourself! So you think there is nothing better to be done with +time than that? and be sure we can all do much ourselves to decide +whether we are to be ill or well! like a man on the gymnastic bars. +We are all pretty well. As for me, there is nothing the matter +with me in the world, beyond the disgusting circumstance that I am +not so young as once I was. Lloyd has a gymnastic machine, and +practises upon it every morning for an hour: he is beginning to be +a kind of young Samson. Austin grows fat and brown, and gets on +not so ill with his lessons, and my mother is in great price. We +are having knock-me-down weather for heat; I never remember it so +hot before, and I fancy it means we are to have a hurricane again +this year, I think; since we came here, we have not had a single +gale of wind! The Pacific is but a child to the North Sea; but +when she does get excited, and gets up and girds herself, she can +do something good. We have had a very interesting business here. +I helped the chiefs who were in prison; and when they were set +free, what should they do but offer to make a part of my road for +me out of gratitude? Well, I was ashamed to refuse, and the trumps +dug my road for me, and put up this inscription on a board:- + +'CONSIDERING THE GREAT LOVE OF HIS EXCELLENCY TUSITALA IN HIS +LOVING CARE OF US IN OUR TRIBULATION IN THE PRISON WE HAVE MADE +THIS GREAT GIFT; IT SHALL NEVER BE MUDDY, IT SHALL GO ON FOR EVER, +THIS ROAD THAT WE HAVE DUG!' We had a great feast when it was +done, and I read them a kind of lecture, which I dare say Auntie +will have, and can let you see. Weel, guid bye to ye, and joy be +wi' ye! I hae nae time to say mair. They say I'm gettin' FAT - a +fact! - Your laddie, with all love, + +ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. + + + +Letter: TO JAMES PAYN + + + +VAILIMA, SAMOA, NOV. 4, 1894. + +MY DEAR JAMES PAYN, - I am asked to relate to you a little incident +of domestic life at Vailima. I had read your GLEAMS OF MEMORY, No. +1; it then went to my wife, to Osbourne, to the cousin that is +within my gates, and to my respected amanuensis, Mrs. Strong. +Sunday approached. In the course of the afternoon I was attracted +to the great 'all - the winders is by Vanderputty, which upon +entering I beheld a memorable scene. The floor was bestrewn with +the forms of midshipmen from the CURACOA - 'boldly say a wilderness +of gunroom' - and in the midst of this sat Mrs. Strong throned on +the sofa and reading aloud GLEAMS OF MEMORY. They had just come +the length of your immortal definition of boyhood in the concrete, +and I had the pleasure to see the whole party dissolve under its +influence with inextinguishable laughter. I thought this was not +half bad for arthritic gout! Depend upon it, sir, when I go into +the arthritic gout business, I shall be done with literature, or at +least with the funny business. It is quite true I have my +battlefields behind me. I have done perhaps as much work as +anybody else under the most deplorable conditions. But two things +fall to be noticed: In the first place, I never was in actual +pain; and in the second, I was never funny. I'll tell you the +worst day that I remember. I had a haemorrhage, and was not +allowed to speak; then, induced by the devil, or an errant doctor, +I was led to partake of that bowl which neither cheers nor +inebriates - the castor-oil bowl. Now, when castor-oil goes right, +it is one thing; but when it goes wrong, it is another. And it +went WRONG with me that day. The waves of faintness and nausea +succeeded each other for twelve hours, and I do feel a legitimate +pride in thinking that I stuck to my work all through and wrote a +good deal of Admiral Guinea (which I might just as well not have +written for all the reward it ever brought me) in spite of the +barbarous bad conditions. I think that is my great boast; and it +seems a little thing alongside of your GLEAMS OF MEMORY illustrated +by spasms of arthritic gout. We really should have an order of +merit in the trade of letters. For valour, Scott would have had +it; Pope too; myself on the strength of that castor-oil; and James +Payn would be a Knight Commander. The worst of it is, though Lang +tells me you exhibit the courage of Huish, that not even an order +can alleviate the wretched annoyance of the business. I have +always said that there is nothing like pain; toothache, dumb-ague, +arthritic gout, it does not matter what you call it, if the screw +is put upon the nerves sufficiently strong, there is nothing left +in heaven or in earth that can interest the sufferer. Still, even +to this there is the consolation that it cannot last for ever. +Either you will be relieved and have a good hour again before the +sun goes down, or else you will be liberated. It is something +after all (although not much) to think that you are leaving a brave +example; that other literary men love to remember, as I am sure +they will love to remember, everything about you - your sweetness, +your brightness, your helpfulness to all of us, and in particular +those one or two really adequate and noble papers which you have +been privileged to write during these last years. - With the +heartiest and kindest good-will, I remain, yours ever, + +R. L. S. + + + +Letter: TO LIEUTENANT EELES + + + +VAILIMA, SAMOA, NOVEMBER 24, 1894. + +MY DEAR EELES, - The hand, as you will perceive (and also the +spelling!), is Teuila's, but the scrannel voice is what remains of +Tusitala's. First of all, for business. When you go to London you +are to charter a hansom cab and proceed to the Museum. It is +particular fun to do this on Sundays when the Monument is shut up. +Your cabman expostulates with you, you persist. The cabman drives +up in front of the closed gates and says, 'I told you so, sir.' +You breathe in the porter's ears the mystic name of COLVIN, and he +immediately unfolds the iron barrier. You drive in, and doesn't +your cabman think you're a swell. A lord mayor is nothing to it. +Colvin's door is the only one in the eastern gable of the building. +Send in your card to him with 'From R. L. S.' in the corner, and +the machinery will do the rest. Henry James's address is 34 De +Vere Mansions West. I cannot remember where the place is; I cannot +even remember on which side of the park. But it's one of those big +Cromwell Road-looking deserted thoroughfares out west in Kensington +or Bayswater, or between the two; and anyway, Colvin will be able +to put you on the direct track for Henry James. I do not send +formal introductions, as I have taken the liberty to prepare both +of them for seeing you already. + +Hoskyn is staying with us. + +It is raining dismally. The Curacoa track is hardly passable, but +it must be trod to-morrow by the degenerate feet of their successor +the Wallaroos. I think it a very good account of these last that +we don't think them either deformed or habitual criminals - they +seem to be a kindly lot. + +The doctor will give you all the gossip. I have preferred in this +letter to stick to the strictly solid and necessary. With kind +messages from all in the house to all in the wardroom, all in the +gunroom, and (may we dare to breathe it) to him who walks abaft, +believe me, my dear Eeles, yours ever, + +R. L. STEVENSON. + + + +Letter: TO SIR HERBERT MAXWELL + + + +VAILIMA, SAMOA, DECEMBER 1, 1894. + +DEAR SIR HERBERT, - Thank you very much for your long and kind +letter. I shall certainly take your advice and call my cousin, the +Lyon King, into council. It is certainly a very interesting +subject, though I don't suppose it can possibly lead to anything, +this connection between the Stevensons and M'Gregors. Alas! your +invitation is to me a mere derision. My chances of visiting Heaven +are about as valid as my chances of visiting Monreith. Though I +should like well to see you, shrunken into a cottage, a literary +Lord of Ravenscraig. I suppose it is the inevitable doom of all +those who dabble in Scotch soil; but really your fate is the more +blessed. I cannot conceive anything more grateful to me, or more +amusing or more picturesque, than to live in a cottage outside your +own park-walls. - With renewed thanks, believe me, dear Sir +Herbert, yours very truly, + +ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. + + + +Letter: TO ANDREW LANG + + + +VAILIMA, SAMOA, DECEMBER 1, 1894. + +MY DEAR LANG, - For the portrait of Braxfield, much thanks! It is +engraved from the same Raeburn portrait that I saw in '76 or '77 +with so extreme a gusto that I have ever since been Braxfield's +humble servant, and am now trying, as you know, to stick him into a +novel. Alas! one might as well try to stick in Napoleon. The +picture shall be framed and hung up in my study. Not only as a +memento of you, but as a perpetual encouragement to do better with +his Lordship. I have not yet received the transcripts. They must +be very interesting. Do you know, I picked up the other day an old +LONGMAN'S, where I found an article of yours that I had missed, +about Christie's? I read it with great delight. The year ends +with us pretty much as it began, among wars and rumours of wars, +and a vast and splendid exhibition of official incompetence. - +Yours ever, + +R. L. STEVENSON. + + + +Letter: TO EDMUND GOSSE + + + +VAILIMA, SAMOA, DECEMBER 1, 1894. + +I AM afraid, MY DEAR WEG, that this must be the result of bribery +and corruption! The volume to which the dedication stands as +preface seems to me to stand alone in your work; it is so natural, +so personal, so sincere, so articulate in substance, and what you +always were sure of - so rich in adornment. + +Let me speak first of the dedication. I thank you for it from the +heart. It is beautifully said, beautifully and kindly felt; and I +should be a churl indeed if I were not grateful, and an ass if I +were not proud. I remember when Symonds dedicated a book to me; I +wrote and told him of 'the pang of gratified vanity' with which I +had read it. The pang was present again, but how much more sober +and autumnal - like your volume. Let me tell you a story, or +remind you of a story. In the year of grace something or other, +anything between '76 and '78 I mentioned to you in my usual +autobiographical and inconsiderate manner that I was hard up. You +said promptly that you had a balance at your banker's, and could +make it convenient to let me have a cheque, and I accepted and got +the money - how much was it? - twenty or perhaps thirty pounds? I +know not - but it was a great convenience. The same evening, or +the next day, I fell in conversation (in my usual autobiographical +and . . . see above) with a denizen of the Savile Club, name now +gone from me, only his figure and a dim three-quarter view of his +face remaining. To him I mentioned that you had given me a loan, +remarking easily that of course it didn't matter to you. Whereupon +he read me a lecture, and told me how it really stood with you +financially. He was pretty serious; fearing, as I could not help +perceiving, that I should take too light a view of the +responsibility and the service (I was always thought too light - +the irresponsible jester - you remember. O, QUANTUM MUTATUS AB +ILLO!) If I remember rightly, the money was repaid before the end +of the week - or, to be more exact and a trifle pedantic, the +sennight - but the service has never been forgotten; and I send you +back this piece of ancient history, CONSULE PLANCO, as a salute for +your dedication, and propose that we should drink the health of the +nameless one, who opened my eyes as to the true nature of what you +did for me on that occasion. + +But here comes my Amanuensis, so we'll get on more swimmingly now. +You will understand perhaps that what so particularly pleased me in +the new volume, what seems to me to have so personal and original a +note, are the middle-aged pieces in the beginning. The whole of +them, I may say, though I must own an especial liking to - + + +'I yearn not for the fighting fate, +That holds and hath achieved; +I live to watch and meditate +And dream - and be deceived.' + + +You take the change gallantly. Not I, I must confess. It is all +very well to talk of renunciation, and of course it has to be done. +But, for my part, give me a roaring toothache! I do like to be +deceived and to dream, but I have very little use for either +watching or meditation. I was not born for age. And, curiously +enough, I seem to see a contrary drift in my work from that which +is so remarkable in yours. You are going on sedately travelling +through your ages, decently changing with the years to the proper +tune. And here am I, quite out of my true course, and with nothing +in my foolish elderly head but love-stories. This must repose upon +some curious distinction of temperaments. I gather from a phrase, +boldly autobiographical, that you are - well, not precisely growing +thin. Can that be the difference? + +It is rather funny that this matter should come up just now, as I +am at present engaged in treating a severe case of middle age in +one of my stories - 'The Justice-Clerk.' The case is that of a +woman, and I think that I am doing her justice. You will be +interested, I believe, to see the difference in our treatments. +SECRETA VITAE, comes nearer to the case of my poor Kirstie. Come +to think of it, Gosse, I believe the main distinction is that you +have a family growing up around you, and I am a childless, rather +bitter, very clear-eyed, blighted youth. I have, in fact, lost the +path that makes it easy and natural for you to descend the hill. I +am going at it straight. And where I have to go down it is a +precipice. + +I must not forget to give you a word of thanks for AN ENGLISH +VILLAGE. It reminds me strongly of Keats, which is enough to say; +and I was particularly pleased with the petulant sincerity of the +concluding sentiment. + +Well, my dear Gosse, here's wishing you all health and prosperity, +as well as to the mistress and the bairns. May you live long, +since it seems as if you would continue to enjoy life. May you +write many more books as good as this one - only there's one thing +impossible, you can never write another dedication that can give +the same pleasure to the vanished + +TUSITALA. + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg eText The Letters of Robert Louis +Stevenson, Volume 2 + diff --git a/old/rlsl210.zip b/old/rlsl210.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..16e561d --- /dev/null +++ b/old/rlsl210.zip |