My Dear Colvin, — We have had quite an interesting month and mostly in consideration of that road which I think I told you was about to be made. It was made without a hitch1, though I confess I was considerably2 surprised. When they got through, I wrote a speech to them, sent it down to a Missionary3 to be translated, and invited the lot to a feast. I thought a good deal of this feast. The occasion was really interesting. I wanted to pitch it in hot. And I wished to have as many influential4 witnesses present as possible. Well, as it drew towards the day I had nothing but refusals. Everybody supposed it was to be a political occasion, that I had made a hive of rebels up here, and was going to push for new hostilities5.
The Amanuensis has been ill, and after the above trial petered out. I must return to my own, lone6 Waverley. The captain refused, telling me why; and at last I had to beat up for people almost with prayers. However, I got a good lot, as you will see by the accompanying newspaper report. The road contained this inscription7, drawn8 up by the chiefs themselves:
‘The Road of Gratitude9.’
‘Considering the great love of Tusitala in his loving care of us in our distress10 in the prison, we have therefore prepared a splendid gift. It shall never be muddy, it shall endure for ever, this road that we have dug.’ This the newspaper reporter could not give, not knowing any Samoan. The same reason explains his references to Seumanutafa’s speech, which was not long and was important, for it was a speech of courtesy and forgiveness to his former enemies. It was very much applauded. Secondly11, it was not Poe, it was Mataafa (don’t confuse with Mataafa) who spoke12 for the prisoners. Otherwise it is extremely correct.
I beg your pardon for so much upon my aboriginals13. Even you must sympathise with me in this unheard-of compliment, and my having been able to deliver so severe a sermon with acceptance. It remains14 a nice point of conscience what I should wish done in the matter. I think this meeting, its immediate15 results, and the terms of what I said to them, desirable to be known. It will do a little justice to me, who have not had too much justice done me. At the same time, to send this report to the papers is truly an act of self-advertisement, and I dislike the thought. Query16, in a man who has been so much calumniated17, is that not justifiable18? I do not know; be my judge. Mankind is too complicated for me; even myself. Do I wish to advertise? I think I do, God help me! I have had hard times here, as every man must have who mixes up with public business; and I bemoan19 myself, knowing that all I have done has been in the interest of peace and good government; and having once delivered my mind, I would like it, I think, to be made public. But the other part of me Regimbs.
I know I am at a climacteric for all men who live by their wits, so I do not despair. But the truth is I am pretty nearly useless at literature, and I will ask you to spare St. Ives when it goes to you; it is a sort of Count Robert of Paris. But I hope rather a Dombey and Son, to be succeeded by Our Mutual20 Friend and great Expectations and A Tale of Two Cities. No toil21 has been spared over the ungrateful canvas; and it will not come together, and I must live, and my family. Were it not for my health, which made it impossible, I could not find it in my heart to forgive myself that I did not stick to an honest, common-place trade when I was young, which might have now supported me during these ill years. But do not suppose me to be down in anything else; only, for the nonce, my skill deserts me, such as it is, or was. It was a very little dose of inspiration, and a pretty little trick of style, long lost, improved by the most heroic industry. So far, I have managed to please the journalists. But I am a fictitious22 article and have long known it. I am read by journalists, by my fellow-novelists, and by boys; with these, incipit et explicit23 my vogue24. Good thing anyway! for it seems to have sold the Edition. And I look forward confidently to an aftermath; I do not think my health can be so hugely improved, without some subsequent improvement in my brains. Though, of course, there is the possibility that literature is a morbid25 secretion26, and abhors27 health! I do not think it is possible to have fewer illusions than I. I sometimes wish I had more. They are amusing. But I cannot take myself seriously as an artist; the limitations are so obvious. I did take myself seriously as a workman of old, but my practice has fallen off. I am now an idler and cumberer of the ground; it may be excused to me perhaps by twenty years of industry and ill-health, which have taken the cream off the milk.
As I was writing this last sentence, I heard the strident rain drawing near across the forest, and by the time I was come to the word ‘cream’ it burst upon my roof, and has since redoubled, and roared upon it. A very welcome change. All smells of the good wet earth, sweetly, with a kind of Highland28 touch; the crystal rods of the shower, as I look up, have drawn their criss-cross over everything; and a gentle and very welcome coolness comes up around me in little draughts29, blessed draughts, not chilling, only equalising the temperature. Now the rain is off in this spot, but I hear it roaring still in the nigh neighbourhood — and that moment, I was driven from the verandah by random30 rain drops, spitting at me through the Japanese blinds. These are not tears with which the page is spotted31! Now the windows stream, the roof reverberates32. It is good; it answers something which is in my heart; I know not what; old memories of the wet moorland belike.
Well, it has blown by again, and I am in my place once more, with an accompaniment of perpetual dripping on the verandah — and very much inclined for a chat. The exact subject I do not know! It will be bitter at least, and that is strange, for my attitude is essentially33 not bitter, but I have come into these days when a man sees above all the seamy side, and I have dwelt some time in a small place where he has an opportunity of reading little motives34 that he would miss in the great world, and indeed, today, I am almost ready to call the world an error. Because? Because I have not drugged myself with successful work, and there are all kinds of trifles buzzing in my ear, unfriendly trifles, from the least to the — well, to the pretty big. All these that touch me are Pretty Big; and yet none touch me in the least, if rightly looked at, except the one eternal burthen to go on making an income. If I could find a place where I could lie down and give up for (say) two years, and allow the sainted public to support me, if it were a lunatic asylum35, wouldn’t I go, just! But we can’t have both extremes at once, worse luck! I should like to put my savings36 into a proprietarian investment, and retire in the meanwhile into a communistic retreat, which is double-dealing. But you men with salaries don’t know how a family weighs on a fellow’s mind.
I hear the article in next week’s Herald37 is to be a great affair, and all the officials who came to me the other day are to be attacked! This is the unpleasant side of being (without a salary) in public life; I will leave anyone to judge if my speech was well intended, and calculated to do good. It was even daring — I assure you one of the chiefs looked like a fiend at my description of Samoan warfare38. Your warning was not needed; we are all determined39 to keep the peace and to hold our peace. I know, my dear fellow, how remote all this sounds! Kindly40 pardon your friend. I have my life to live here; these interests are for me immediate; and if I do not write of them, I might as soon not write at all. There is the difficulty in a distant correspondence. It is perhaps easy for me to enter into and understand your interests; I own it is difficult for you; but you must just wade41 through them for friendship’s sake, and try to find tolerable what is vital for your friend. I cannot forbear challenging you to it, as to intellectual lists. It is the proof of intelligence, the proof of not being a barbarian42, to be able to enter into something outside of oneself, something that does not touch one’s next neighbour in the city omnibus.
Good-bye, my lord. May your race continue and you flourish — Yours ever,
Tusitala.
The End
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1
hitch
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| v.免费搭(车旅行)；系住；急提；n.故障；急拉 | |
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2
considerably
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| adv.极大地；相当大地；在很大程度上 | |
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3
missionary
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| adj.教会的，传教(士)的；n.传教士 | |
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4
influential
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| adj.有影响的，有权势的 | |
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5
hostilities
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| n.战争；敌意(hostility的复数)；敌对状态；战事 | |
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6
lone
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| adj.孤寂的，单独的；唯一的 | |
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inscription
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| n.（尤指石块上的）刻印文字，铭文，碑文 | |
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8
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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9
gratitude
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| adj.感激，感谢 | |
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10
distress
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| n.苦恼，痛苦，不舒适；不幸；vt.使悲痛 | |
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11
secondly
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| adv.第二，其次 | |
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12
spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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13
aboriginals
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| （某国的）公民( aboriginal的名词复数 )； 土著人特征； 土生动物（或植物） | |
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14
remains
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| n.剩余物，残留物；遗体，遗迹 | |
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15
immediate
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| adj.立即的；直接的，最接近的；紧靠的 | |
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16
query
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| n.疑问，问号，质问；vt.询问，表示怀疑 | |
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17
calumniated
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| v.诽谤，中伤( calumniate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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18
justifiable
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| adj.有理由的，无可非议的 | |
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19
bemoan
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| v.悲叹，哀泣，痛哭；惋惜，不满于 | |
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20
mutual
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| adj.相互的，彼此的；共同的，共有的 | |
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21
toil
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| vi.辛劳工作，艰难地行动；n.苦工，难事 | |
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22
fictitious
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| adj.虚构的，假设的；空头的 | |
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23
explicit
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| adj.详述的，明确的；坦率的；显然的 | |
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24
Vogue
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| n.时髦，时尚；adj.流行的 | |
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25
morbid
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| adj.病的；致病的；病态的；可怕的 | |
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26
secretion
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| n.分泌 | |
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27
abhors
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| v.憎恶( abhor的第三人称单数 )；（厌恶地）回避；拒绝；淘汰 | |
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28
highland
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| n.(pl.)高地，山地 | |
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29
draughts
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| n. <英>国际跳棋 | |
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30
random
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| adj.随机的；任意的；n.偶然的(或随便的)行动 | |
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31
spotted
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| adj.有斑点的，斑纹的，弄污了的 | |
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32
reverberates
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| 回响，回荡( reverberate的第三人称单数 )； 使反响，使回荡，使反射 | |
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33
essentially
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| adv.本质上，实质上，基本上 | |
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34
motives
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| n.动机，目的( motive的名词复数 ) | |
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35
asylum
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| n.避难所，庇护所，避难 | |
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36
savings
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| n.存款，储蓄 | |
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37
herald
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| vt.预示...的来临，预告，宣布，欢迎 | |
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38
warfare
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| n.战争(状态)；斗争；冲突 | |
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39
determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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40
kindly
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| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
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41
wade
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| v.跋涉，涉水；n.跋涉 | |
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42
barbarian
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| n.野蛮人；adj.野蛮(人)的；未开化的 | |
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