My Dear Colvin, — You are properly paid at last, and it is like you will have but a shadow of a letter. I have been pretty thoroughly1 out of kilter; first a fever that would neither come on nor go off, then acute dyspepsia, in the weakening grasp of which I get wandering between the waking state and one of nightmare. Why the devil does no one send me Atalanta? And why are there no proofs of D. Balfour? Sure I should have had the whole, at least the half, of them by now; and it would be all for the advantage of the Atalantans. I have written to Cassell & Co. (matter of Falesa) ‘you will please arrange with him’ (meaning you). ‘What he may decide I shall abide4.’ So consider your hand free, and act for me without fear or favour. I am greatly pleased with the illustrations. It is very strange to a South-Seayer to see Hawaiian women dressed like Samoans, but I guess that’s all one to you in Middlesex. It’s about the same as if London city men were shown going to the Stock Exchange as Pifferari; but no matter, none will sleep worse for it. I have accepted Cassell’s proposal as an amendment5 to one of mine; that D. B. is to be brought out first under the title Catriona without pictures; and, when the hour strikes, Kidnapped and Catriona are to form vols. I. and II. of the heavily illustrated6 ‘Adventures of David Balfour’ at 7s. 6d. each, sold separately.
-‘s letter was vastly sly and dry and shy. I am not afraid now. Two attempts have been made, both have failed, and I imagine these failures strengthen me. Above all this is true of the last, where my weak point was attempted. On every other, I am strong. Only force can dislodge me, for public opinion is wholly on my side. All races and degrees are united in heartfelt opposition7 to the Men of Mulinuu. The news of the fighting was of no concern to mortal man; it was made much of because men love talk of battles, and because the Government pray God daily for some scandal not their own; but it was only a brisk episode in a clan8 fight which has grown apparently9 endemic in the west of Tutuila. At the best it was a twopenny affair, and never occupied my mind five minutes.
I am so weary of reports that are without foundation and threats that go without fulfilment, and so much occupied besides by the raging troubles of my own wame, that I have been very slack on politics, as I have been in literature. With incredible labour, I have rewritten the First Chapter of the Justice Clerk; it took me about ten days, and requires another athletic10 dressing11 after all. And that is my story for the month. The rest is grunting12 and grutching.
Consideranda for the beach:-
I. Whether to add one or both the tales I sent you?
II. Whether to call the whole volume ‘Island Nights Entertainments’?
III Whether, having waited so long, it would not be better to give me another mail, in case I could add another member to the volume and a little better justify13 the name?
If I possibly can draw up another story, I will. What annoyed me about the use of The Bottle Imp14 was that I had always meant it for the centre-piece of a volume of MarchEN which I was slowly to elaborate. You always had an idea that I depreciated15 the B. I; I can’t think wherefore; I always particularly liked it — one of my best works, and ill to equal; and that was why I loved to keep it in portfolio16 till I had time to grow up to some other fruit of the same venue17. However, that is disposed of now, and we must just do the best we can.
I am not aware that there is anything to add; the weather is hellish, waterspouts, mists, chills, the foul18 fiend’s own weather, following on a week of expurgated heaven; so it goes at this bewildering season. I write in the upper floor of my new house, of which I will send you some day a plan to measure. ’Tis an elegant structure, surely, and the proid of me oi. Was asked to pay for it just now, and genteelly refused, and then agreed, in view of general good-will, to pay a half of what is still due.
24TH January 1893.
This ought to have gone last mail and was forgotten. My best excuse is that I was engaged in starting an influenza19, to which class of exploit our household has been since then entirely20 dedicated21. We had eight cases, one of them very bad, and one — mine — complicated with my old friend Bluidy Jack22. Luckily neither Fanny, Lloyd or Belle23 took the confounded thing, and they were able to run the household and nurse the sick to admiration24.
Some of our boys behaved like real trumps25. Perhaps the prettiest performance was that of our excellent Henry Simele, or, as we sometimes call him, Davy Balfour. Henry, I maun premeese, is a chief; the humblest Samoan recoils26 from emptying slops as you would from cheating at cards; now the last nights of our bad time when we had seven down together, it was enough to have made anybody laugh or cry to see Henry going the rounds with a slop-bucket and going inside the mosquito net of each of the sick, Protestant and Catholic alike, to pray with them.
I must tell you that in my sickness I had a huge alleviation27 and began a new story. This I am writing by dictation, and really think it is an art I can manage to acquire. The relief is beyond description; it is just like a school-treat to me and the amanuensis bears up extraordinar’. The story is to be called St. Ives; I give you your choice whether or not it should bear the subtitle28, ‘Experiences of a French prisoner in England.’ We were just getting on splendidly with it, when this cursed mail arrived and requires to be attended to. It looks to me very like as if St. Ives would be ready before any of the others, but you know me and how impossible it is I should predict. The Amanuensis has her head quite turned and believes herself to be the author of this novel (and is to some extent) — and as the creature (!) has not been wholly useless in the matter (I told you so! A.M.) I propose to foster her vanity by a little commemoration gift! The name of the hero is Anne de St. Yves — he Englishes his name to St. Ives during his escape. It is my idea to get a ring made which shall either represent Anne or A. S. Y. A., of course, would be Amethyst29 and S. Sapphire30, which is my favourite stone anyway and was my father’s before me. But what would the ex-Slade professor do about the letter Y? Or suppose he took the other version, how would he meet the case, the two N.‘s? These things are beyond my knowledge, which it would perhaps be more descriptive to call ignorance. But I place the matter in the meanwhile under your consideration and beg to hear your views. I shall tell you on some other occasion and when the A.M. is out of hearing how very much I propose to invest in this testimonial; but I may as well inform you at once that I intend it to be cheap, sir, damned cheap! My idea of running amanuenses is by praise, not pudding, flattery and not coins! I shall send you when the time is ripe a ring to measure by.
To resume our sad tale. After the other seven were almost wholly recovered Henry lay down to influenza on his own account. He is but just better and it looks as though Fanny were about to bring up the rear. As for me, I am all right, though I was reduced to dictating31 Anne in the deaf and dumb alphabet, which I think you will admit is a Comble.
Politics leave me extraordinary cold. It seems that so much of my purpose has come off, and Cedarcrantz and Pilsach are sacked. The rest of it has all gone to water. The triple-headed ass3 at home, in his plenitude of ignorance, prefers to collect the taxes and scatter32 the Mataafas by force or the threat of force. It may succeed, and I suppose it will. It is none the less for that expensive, harsh, unpopular and unsettling. I am young enough to have been annoyed, and altogether eject and renegate the whole idea of political affairs. Success in that field appears to be the organisation33 of failure enlivened with defamation34 of character; and, much as I love pickles35 and hot water (in your true phrase) I shall take my pickles in future from Crosse and Blackwell and my hot water with a dose of good Glenlivat.
Do not bother at all about the wall-papers. We have had the whole of our new house varnished36, and it looks beautiful. I wish you could see the hall; poor room, it had to begin life as an infirmary during our recent visitation; but it is really a handsome comely37 place, and when we get the furniture, and the pictures, and what is so very much more decorative38, the picture frames, will look sublime39.
Jan. 30th.
I have written to Charles asking for Rowlandson’s Syntax and Dance of Death out of our house, and begging for anything about fashions and manners (fashions particularly) for 1814. Can you help? Both the Justice Clerk and St. Ives fall in that fated year. Indeed I got into St. Ives while going over the Annual Register for the other. There is a kind of fancy list of Chaps. of St. Ives. (It begins in Edinburgh Castle.) I. Story of a lion rampant40 (that was a toy he had made, and given to a girl visitor). II. Story of a pair of scissors. III. St. Ives receives a bundle of money. IV. St. Ives is shown a house. V. The Escape. VI. The Cottage (Swanston College). VII. The Hen-house. VIII. Three is company and four none. IX. The Drovers. X. The Great North Road. XI. Burchell Fenn. XII. The covered cart. XIII. The doctor. XIV. The Luddites. V. Set a thief to catch a thief. XXVI. M. le Comte de Keroualle (his uncle, the rich emigre, whom he finds murdered). XVII. The cousins. XVIII. Mr. Sergeant41 Garrow. XIX. A meeting at the Ship, Dover. XX. Diane. XXI. The Duke’s Prejudices. XXII. The False Messenger. XXIII. The gardener’s ladder. XXIV. The officers. XXV. Trouble with the Duke. XXVI. Fouquet again. XXVII. The Aeronaut. XXVIII. The True-Blooded Yankee. XXIX. In France. I don’t know where to stop. Apropos42, I want a book about Paris, and the FIRSt return of the emigres and all up to the cent jours: d’ye ken2 anything in my way? I want in particular to know about them and the Napoleonic functionaries43 and officers, and to get the colour and some vital details of the business of exchange of departments from one side to the other. Ten chapters are drafted, and VIII. re-copied by me, but will want another dressing for luck. It is merely a story of adventure, rambling44 along; but that is perhaps the guard that ‘sets my genius best,’ as Alan might have said. I wish I could feel as easy about the other! But there, all novels are a heavy burthen while they are doing, and a sensible disappointment when they are done.
For God’s sake, let me have a copy of the new German Samoa White book. R. L. S.
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1
thoroughly
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| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
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ken
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ass
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| n.驴；傻瓜，蠢笨的人 | |
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abide
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| vi.遵守；坚持；vt.忍受 | |
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amendment
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| n.改正，修正，改善，修正案 | |
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illustrated
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| adj. 有插图的，列举的 动词illustrate的过去式和过去分词 | |
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opposition
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| n.反对，敌对 | |
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clan
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| n.氏族，部落，宗族，家族，宗派 | |
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apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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athletic
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| adj.擅长运动的，强健的；活跃的，体格健壮的 | |
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dressing
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| n.(食物)调料；包扎伤口的用品，敷料 | |
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grunting
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| 咕哝的，呼噜的 | |
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justify
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| vt.证明…正当(或有理)，为…辩护 | |
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imp
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| n.顽童 | |
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depreciated
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| v.贬值，跌价，减价( depreciate的过去式和过去分词 )；贬低，蔑视，轻视 | |
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portfolio
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| n.公事包；文件夹；大臣及部长职位 | |
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venue
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| n.犯罪地点，审判地，管辖地，发生地点，集合地点 | |
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foul
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| adj.污秽的；邪恶的；v.弄脏；妨害；犯规；n.犯规 | |
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influenza
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| n.流行性感冒，流感 | |
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entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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dedicated
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| adj.一心一意的；献身的；热诚的 | |
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jack
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| n.插座，千斤顶，男人；v.抬起，提醒，扛举；n.（Jake）杰克 | |
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belle
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| n.靓女 | |
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admiration
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trumps
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| abbr.trumpets 喇叭；小号；喇叭形状的东西；喇叭筒v.（牌戏）出王牌赢（一牌或一墩）( trump的过去式 )；吹号公告，吹号庆祝；吹喇叭；捏造 | |
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recoils
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| n.（尤指枪炮的）反冲，后坐力( recoil的名词复数 )v.畏缩( recoil的第三人称单数 )；退缩；报应；返回 | |
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alleviation
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| n. 减轻，缓和，解痛物 | |
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subtitle
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| n.副题（书本中的），说明对白的字幕 | |
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amethyst
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| n.紫水晶 | |
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sapphire
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| n.青玉，蓝宝石；adj.天蓝色的 | |
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dictating
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| v.大声讲或读( dictate的现在分词 )；口授；支配；摆布 | |
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scatter
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| vt.撒，驱散，散开；散布/播；vi.分散，消散 | |
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organisation
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| n.组织，安排，团体，有机休 | |
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defamation
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| n.诽谤；中伤 | |
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pickles
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| n.腌菜( pickle的名词复数 )；处于困境；遇到麻烦；菜酱 | |
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varnished
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| 浸渍过的，涂漆的 | |
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comely
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| adj.漂亮的，合宜的 | |
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decorative
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| adj.装饰的，可作装饰的 | |
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sublime
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| adj.崇高的，伟大的；极度的，不顾后果的 | |
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rampant
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| adj.(植物)蔓生的；狂暴的，无约束的 | |
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sergeant
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| n.警官，中士 | |
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apropos
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| adv.恰好地；adj.恰当的；关于 | |
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functionaries
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| n.公职人员，官员( functionary的名词复数 ) | |
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rambling
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| adj.[建]凌乱的，杂乱的 | |
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