按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！
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 d