Feb. 1894.

Dear Colvin, — By a reaction, when your letter is a little decent, mine is to be naked and unashamed. We have been much exercised. No one can prophesy¹ here, of course, and the balance still hangs trembling, but I think it will go for peace.

The mail was very late this time; hence the paltryness of this note. When it came and I had read it, I retired² with The Ebb³ Tide and read it all before I slept. I did not dream it was near as good; I am afraid I think it excellent. A little indecision about Attwater, not much. It gives me great hope, as I see I can work in that constipated, mosaic⁴ manner, which is what I have to do just now with Weir⁵ of Hermiston.

We have given a ball; I send you a paper describing the event. We have two guests in the house, Captain-Count Wurmbrand and Monsieur Albert de Lautreppe. Lautreppe is awfully⁶ nice — a quiet, gentlemanly fellow, Gonfle de Reves, as he describes himself — once a sculptor⁷ in the atelier of Henry Crosse, he knows something of art, and is really a resource to me.

Letter from Meredith very kind. Have you seen no more of Graham?

What about my grandfather? The family history will grow to be quite a chapter.

I suppose I am growing sensitive; perhaps, by living among barbarians⁸, I expect more civility. Look at this from the author of a very interesting and laudatory⁹ critique. He gives quite a false description of something of mine, and talks about my ‘insolence.’ Frankly¹⁰, I supposed ‘insolence’ to be a tapua word. I do not use it to a gentleman, I would not write it of a gentleman: I may be wrong, but I believe we did not write it of a gentleman in old days, and in my view he (clever fellow as he is) wants to be kicked for applying it to me. By writing a novel — even a bad one — I do not make myself a criminal for anybody to insult. This may amuse you. But either there is a change in

分享到：