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JNO。 BUNYAN。







Letter:  TO SIDNEY COLVIN







LA SOLITUDE; HYERES…LES…PALMIERS; VAR; 9TH MARCH 1884。



MY DEAR S。 C。; … You will already have received a not very sane 

note from me; so your patience was rewarded … may I say; your 

patient silence?  However; now comes a letter; which on receipt; I 

thus acknowledge。



I have already expressed myself as to the political aspect。  About 

Grahame; I feel happier; it does seem to have been really a good; 

neat; honest piece of work。  We do not seem to be so badly off for 

commanders:  Wolseley and Roberts; and this pile of Woods; 

Stewarts; Alisons; Grahames; and the like。  Had we but ONE 

statesman on any side of the house!



Two chapters of OTTO do remain:  one to rewrite; one to create; and 

I am not yet able to tackle them。  For me it is my chief o' works; 

hence probably not so for others; since it only means that I have 

here attacked the greatest difficulties。  But some chapters towards 

the end:  three in particular … I do think come off。  I find them 

stirring; dramatic; and not unpoetical。  We shall see; however; as 

like as not; the effort will be more obvious than the success。  

For; of course; I strung myself hard to carry it out。  The next 

will come easier; and possibly be more popular。  I believe in the 

covering of much paper; each time with a definite and not too 

difficult artistic purpose; and then; from time to time; drawing 

oneself up and trying; in a superior effort; to combine the 

facilities thus acquired or improved。  Thus one progresses。  But; 

mind; it is very likely that the big effort; instead of being the 

masterpiece; may be the blotted copy; the gymnastic exercise。  This 

no man can tell; only the brutal and licentious public; snouting in 

Mudie's wash…trough; can return a dubious answer。



I am to…day; thanks to a pure heaven and a beneficent; loud…

talking; antiseptic mistral; on the high places as to health and 

spirits。  Money holds out wonderfully。  Fanny has gone for a drive 

to certain meadows which are now one sheet of jonquils:  sea…bound 

meadows; the thought of which may freshen you in Bloomsbury。  'Ye 

have been fresh and fair; Ye have been filled with flowers' … I 

fear I misquote。  Why do people babble?  Surely Herrick; in his 

true vein; is superior to Martial himself; though Martial is a very 

pretty poet。



Did you ever read St。 Augustine?  The first chapters of the 

CONFESSIONS are marked by a commanding genius。  Shakespearian in 

depth。  I was struck dumb; but; alas! when you begin to wander into 

controversy; the poet drops out。  His description of infancy is 

most seizing。  And how is this:  'Sed majorum nugae negotia 

vocantur; puerorum autem talia cum sint puniuntur a majoribus。'  

Which is quite after the heart of R。 L。 S。  See also his splendid 

passage about the 'luminosus limes amicitiae' and the 'nebulae de 

limosa concupiscentia carnis'; going on 'UTRUMQUE in confuso 

aestuabat et rapiebat imbecillam aetatem per abrupta cupiditatum。'  

That 'Utrumque' is a real contribution to life's science。  Lust 

ALONE is but a pigmy; but it never; or rarely; attacks us single…

handed。



Do you ever read (to go miles off; indeed) the incredible Barbey 

d'Aurevilly?  A psychological Poe … to be for a moment Henley。  I 

own with pleasure I prefer him with all his folly; rot; sentiment; 

and mixed metaphors; to the whole modern school in France。  It 

makes me laugh when it's nonsense; and when he gets an effect 

(though it's still nonsense and mere Poery; not poesy) it wakens 

me。  CE QUI NE MEURT PAS nearly killed me with laughing; and left 

me … well; it left me very nearly admiring the old ass。  At least; 

it's the kind of thing one feels one couldn't do。  The dreadful 

moonlight; when they all three sit silent in the room … by George; 

sir; it's imagined … and the brief scene between the husband and 

wife is all there。  QUANT AU FOND; the whole thing; of course; is a 

fever dream; and worthy of eternal laughter。  Had the young man 

broken stones; and the two women been hard…working honest 

prostitutes; there had been an end of the whole immoral and 

baseless business:  you could at least have respected them in that 

case。



I also read PETRONIUS ARBITER; which is a rum work; not so immoral 

as most modern works; but singularly silly。  I tackled some Tacitus 

too。  I got them with a dreadful French crib on the same page with 

the text; which helps me along and drives me mad。  The French do 

not even try to translate。  They try to be much more classical than 

the classics; with astounding results of barrenness and tedium。  

Tacitus; I fear; was too solid for me。  I liked the war part; but 

the dreary intriguing at Rome was too much。



R。 L。 S。







Letter:  TO MR。 DICK







LA SOLITUDE; HYERES; VAR; 12TH MARCH 1884。



MY DEAR MR。 DICK; … I have been a great while owing you a letter; 

but I am not without excuses; as you have heard。  I overworked to 

get a piece of work finished before I had my holiday; thinking to 

enjoy it more; and instead of that; the machinery near hand came 

sundry in my hands! like Murdie's uniform。  However; I am now; I 

think; in a fair way of recovery; I think I was made; what there is 

of me; of whipcord and thorn…switches; surely I am tough!  But I 

fancy I shall not overdrive again; or not so long。  It is my theory 

that work is highly beneficial; but that it should; if possible; 

and certainly for such partially broken…down instruments as the 

thing I call my body; be taken in batches; with a clear break and 

breathing space between。  I always do vary my work; laying one 

thing aside to take up another; not merely because I believe it 

rests the brain; but because I have found it most beneficial to the 

result。  Reading; Bacon says; makes a full man; but what makes me 

full on any subject is to banish it for a time from all my 

thoughts。  However; what I now propose is; out of every quarter; to 

work two months' and rest the third。  I believe I shall get more 

done; as I generally manage; on my present scheme; to have four 

months' impotent illness and two of imperfect health … one before; 

one after; I break down。  This; at least; is not an economical 

division of the year。



I re…read the other day that heartbreaking book; the LIFE OF SCOTT。  

One should read such works now and then; but O; not often。  As I 

live; I feel more and more that literature should be cheerful and 

brave…spirited; even if it cannot be made beautiful and pious and 

heroic。  We wish it to be a green place; the WAVERLEY NOVELS are 

better to re…read than the over…true life; fine as dear Sir Walter 

was。  The Bible; in most parts; is a cheerful book; it is our 

little piping theologies; tracts; and sermons that are dull and 

dowie; and even the Shorter Catechism; which is scarcely a work of 

consolation; opens with the best and shortest and completest sermon 

ever written … upon Man's chief end。 … Believe me; my dear Mr。 

Dick; very sincerely yours;



ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON。



P。S。 … You see I have changed my hand。  I was threatened apparently 

with scrivener's cramp; and at any rate had got to write so small; 

that the revisal of my MS。 tried my eyes; hence my signature alone 

remains upon the old model; for it appears that if I changed that; 

I should be cut off from my 'vivers。'



R。 L。 S。







Letter:  TO COSMO MONKHOUSE







LA SOLITUDE; HYERES…LES…PALMIERS; VAR; MARCH 16; 1884。



MY DEAR MONKHOUSE; … You see with what promptitude I plunge into 

correspondence; but the truth is; I am condemned to a complete 

inaction; stagnate dismally; and love a letter。  Yours; which would 

have been welcome at any time; was thus doubly precious。



Dover sounds somewhat shiveringly in my ears。  You should see the 

weather I have … cloudless; clear as crystal; with just a punkah…

draft of the most aromatic air; all pine and gum tree。  You would 

be ashamed of Dover; you would scruple to refer; sir; to a spot so 

paltry。  To be idle at Dover is a strange pretension; pray; how do 

you warm yourself?  If I were there I should grind knives or write 

blank verse; or …  But at least you do not bathe?  It is idle to 

deny it:  I have … I may say I nourish … a growing jealousy of the 

robust; large…legged; healthy Britain…dwellers; patient of grog; 

scorners of the timid umbrella; innocuously breathing fog:  all 

which I once was; and I am ashamed to say liked it。  How ignorant 

is youth! grossly rolling among unselected pleasures; and how 

nobler; purer; sweeter; and lighter; to sip the choice tonic; to 

recline in the luxurious invalid chair; and to tread; well…shawled; 

the little round of the constitutional。  Seriously; do you like to 

repose?  Ye gods; I hate it。  I never rest with any acceptation; I 

do not know what people mean who say they like sleep and that 

damned bedtime which; since long ere I was breeched; has rung a 

knell to all my day's doings and beings。  And when a man; seemingly 

sane; tells me he has 'fallen in love with stagnation;' I can only 

say to him; 'You will never be a Pirate!'  This may not cause any 

regret to Mrs。 Monkhouse; but in your own soul it will clang hollow 

… think of it!  Never!  After all boyhood's aspirations and youth's 

immoral day…dreams; you are condemned to sit down; grossly draw in 

your chair to the fat board; and be a beastly Burgess till you die。  

Can it be?  Is there not some escape; some furlough from the Moral 

Law; some holiday jaunt contrivable into a Better Land?  Shall we 

never shed blood?  This prospect is too grey。





'Here lies a man who never did

Anything but what he was bid;

Who lived his life in paltry ease;

And died of commonplace disease。'





To confess plainly; I had intended to spend my life (or any leisure 

I might have from Piracy u

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