Am I Pepys, that because I can find the countenance of 'some of our ablest merchants,' that because - and - pour forth languid twaddle and get paid for it, I, too, should 'cheerfully continue to steal'? I am not Pepys. I do not live much to God and honour; but I will not wilfully turn my back on both. I am, like all the rest of us, falling ever lower from the bright ideas I began with, falling into greed, into idleness, into middle-aged and slippered fireside cowardice; but is it you, my bold blade, that I hear crying this sordid and rank twaddle in my ear? Preaching the dankest Grundyism and upholding the rank customs of our trade - you, who are so cruel hard upon the customs of the publishers? O man, look at the Beam in our own Eyes; and whatever else you do, do not plead Satan's cause, or plead it for all; either embrace the bad, or respect the good when you see a poor devil trying for it. If this is the honesty of authors - to take what you can get and console yourself because publishers are rich - take my name from the rolls of that association. 'Tis a caucus of weaker thieves, jealous of the stronger. - Ever yours,
THE ROARING R. L. S.
You will see from the enclosed that I have stuck to what I think my dues pretty tightly in spite of this flourish: these are my words for a poor ten-pound note!
Letter: TO W. E. HENLEY
BONALLIE TOWERS, BOURNEMOUTH, [WINTER, 1884].
MY DEAR LAD, - Here was I in bed; not writing, not hearing, and finding myself gently and agreeably ill used; and behold I learn you are bad yourself. Get your wife to send us a word how you are. I am better decidedly. Bogue got his Christmas card, and behaved well for three days after. It may interest the cynical to learn that I started my last haemorrhage by too sedulous attentions to my dear Bogue. The stick was broken; and that night Bogue, who was attracted by the extraordinary aching of his bones, and is always inclined to a serious view of his own ailments, announced with his customary pomp that he was dying. In this case, however, it was not the dog that died. (He had tried to bite his mother's ankles.) I have written a long and peculiarly solemn paper on the technical elements of style. It is path-breaking and epoch-making; but I do not think the public will be readily convoked to its perusal. Did I tell you that S. C. had risen to the paper on James? At last! O but I was pleased; he's (like Johnnie) been lang, lang o' comin', but here he is. He will not object to my future manoeuvres in the same field, as he has to my former. All the family are here; my father better than I have seen him these two years; my mother the same as ever. I do trust you are better, and I am yours ever,
R. L. S.
Letter: TO H. A. JONES
BONALLIE TOWERS, BRANKSOME PARK, BOURNEMOUTH, DEC. 30, 1884.
DEAR SIR, - I am so accustomed to hear nonsense spoken about all the arts, and the drama in particular, that I cannot refrain from saying 'Thank you,' for your paper. In my answer to Mr. James, in the December LONGMAN, you may see that I have merely touched, I think in a parenthesis, on the drama; but I believe enough was said to indicate our agreement in essentials.
Wishing you power and health to further enunciate and to act upon these principles, believe me, dear sir, yours truly,
ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON.
Letter: TO SIDNEY COLVIN
BONALLIE TOWERS, BRANKSOME PARK, BOURNEMOUTH, JAN. 4, 1885.
DEAR S. C., - I am on my feet again, and getting on my boots to do the IRON DUKE. Conceive my glee: I have refused the 100 pounds, and am to get some sort of royalty, not yet decided, instead. 'Tis for Longman's ENGLISH WORTHIES, edited by A. Lang. Aw haw, haw!
Now, look here, could you get me a loan of the Despatches, or is that a dream? I should have to mark passages I fear, and certainly note pages on the fly. If you think it a dream, will Bain get me a second-hand copy, or who would? The sooner, and cheaper, I can get it the better. If there is anything in your weird library that bears on either the man or the period, put it in a mortar and fire it here instanter; I shall catch.