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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；