the letters-2-第4章
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spot; and I remember you there; though still more dearly in your
own strange den upon a hill in San Francisco; and one of the most
San Francisco…y parts of San Francisco。
Good…bye; my dear fellow; and believe me your friend;
ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON。
Letter: TO J。 A。 SYMONDS
SKERRYVORE; BOURNEMOUTH 'SPRING 1886'。
MY DEAR SYMONDS; … If we have lost touch; it is (I think) only in a
material sense; a question of letters; not hearts。 You will find a
warm welcome at Skerryvore from both the lightkeepers; and; indeed;
we never tell ourselves one of our financial fairy tales; but a run
to Davos is a prime feature。 I am not changeable in friendship;
and I think I can promise you you have a pair of trusty well…
wishers and friends in Bournemouth: whether they write or not is
but a small thing; the flag may not be waved; but it is there。
Jekyll is a dreadful thing; I own; but the only thing I feel
dreadful about is that damned old business of the war in the
members。 This time it came out; I hope it will stay in; in future。
Raskolnikoff is easily the greatest book I have read in ten years;
I am glad you took to it。 Many find it dull: Henry James could
not finish it: all I can say is; it nearly finished me。 It was
like having an illness。 James did not care for it because the
character of Raskolnikoff was not objective; and at that I divined
a great gulf between us; and; on further reflection; the existence
of a certain impotence in many minds of to…day; which prevents them
from living IN a book or a character; and keeps them standing afar
off; spectators of a puppet show。 To such I suppose the book may
seem empty in the centre; to the others it is a room; a house of
life; into which they themselves enter; and are tortured and
purified。 The Juge d'Instruction I thought a wonderful; weird;
touching; ingenious creation: the drunken father; and Sonia; and
the student friend; and the uncircumscribed; protaplasmic humanity
of Raskolnikoff; all upon a level that filled me with wonder: the
execution also; superb in places。 Another has been translated …
HUMILIES ET OFFENSES。 It is even more incoherent than LE CRIME ET
LE CHATIMENT; but breathes much of the same lovely goodness; and
has passages of power。 Dostoieffsky is a devil of a swell; to be
sure。 Have you heard that he became a stout; imperialist
conservative? It is interesting to know。 To something of that
side; the balance leans with me also in view of the incoherency and
incapacity of all。 The old boyish idea of the march on Paradise
being now out of season; and all plans and ideas that I hear
debated being built on a superb indifference to the first
principles of human character; a helpless desire to acquiesce in
anything of which I know the worst assails me。 Fundamental errors
in human nature of two sorts stand on the skyline of all this modem
world of aspirations。 First; that it is happiness that men want;
and second; that happiness consists of anything but an internal
harmony。 Men do not want; and I do not think they would accept;
happiness; what they live for is rivalry; effort; success … the
elements our friends wish to eliminate。 And; on the other hand;
happiness is a question of morality … or of immorality; there is no
difference … and conviction。 Gordon was happy in Khartoum; in his
worst hours of danger and fatigue; Marat was happy; I suppose; in
his ugliest frenzy; Marcus Aurelius was happy in the detested camp;
Pepys was pretty happy; and I am pretty happy on the whole; because
we both somewhat crowingly accepted a VIA MEDIA; both liked to
attend to our affairs; and both had some success in managing the
same。 It is quite an open question whether Pepys and I ought to be
happy; on the other hand; there is no doubt that Marat had better
be unhappy。 He was right (if he said it) that he was LA MISERE
HUMAINE; cureless misery … unless perhaps by the gallows。 Death is
a great and gentle solvent; it has never had justice done it; no;
not by Whitman。 As for those crockery chimney…piece ornaments; the
bourgeois (QUORUM PARS); and their cowardly dislike of dying and
killing; it is merely one symptom of a thousand how utterly they
have got out of touch of life。 Their dislike of capital punishment
and their treatment of their domestic servants are for me the two
flaunting emblems of their hollowness。
God knows where I am driving to。 But here comes my lunch。
Which interruption; happily for you; seems to have stayed the
issue。 I have now nothing to say; that had formerly such a
pressure of twaddle。 Pray don't fail to come this summer。 It will
be a great disappointment; now it has been spoken of; if you do。 …
Yours ever;
ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON
Letter: TO W。 H。 LOW
'SKERRYVORE; BOURNEMOUTH; MARCH 1886。'
MY DEAR LOW; … This is the most enchanting picture。 Now understand
my state: I am really an invalid; but of a mysterious order。 I
might be a MALADE IMAGINAIRE; but for one too tangible symptom; my
tendency to bleed from the lungs。 If we could go; (1ST) We must
have money enough to travel with LEISURE AND COMFORT … especially
the first。 (2ND) You must be prepared for a comrade who would go
to bed some part of every day and often stay silent (3RD) You
would have to play the part of a thoughtful courier; sparing me
fatigue; looking out that my bed was warmed; etc。 (4TH) If you are
very nervous; you must recollect a bad haemorrhage is always on the
cards; with its concomitants of anxiety and horror for those who
are beside me。
Do you blench? If so; let us say no more about it。
If you are still unafraid; and the money were forthcoming; I
believe the trip might do me good; and I feel sure that; working
together; we might produce a fine book。 The Rhone is the river of
Angels。 I adore it: have adored it since I was twelve; and first
saw it from the train。
Lastly; it would depend on how I keep from now on。 I have stood
the winter hitherto with some credit; but the dreadful weather
still continues; and I cannot holloa till I am through the wood。
Subject to these numerous and gloomy provisos; I embrace the
prospect with glorious feelings。
I write this from bed; snow pouring without; and no circumstance of
pleasure except your letter。 That; however; counts for much。 I am
glad you liked the doggerel: I have already had a liberal cheque;
over which I licked my fingers with a sound conscience。 I had not
meant to make money by these stumbling feet; but if it comes; it is
only too welcome in my handsome but impecunious house。
Let me know soon what is to be expected … as far as it does not
hang by that inconstant quantity; my want of health。 Remember me
to Madam with the best thanks and wishes; and believe me your
friend;
ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON。
Letter: TO MRS。 FLEEMING JENKIN
'SKERRYVORE; BOURNEMOUTH; APRIL 1886。'
MY DEAR MRS。 JENKIN; … I try to tell myself it is good nature; but
I know it is vanity that makes me write。
I have drafted the first part of Chapter VI。; Fleeming and his
friends; his influence on me; his views on religion and literature;
his part at the Savile; it should boil down to about ten pages; and
I really do think it admirably good。 It has so much evoked
Fleeming for myself that I found my conscience stirred just as it
used to be after a serious talk with him: surely that means it is
good? I had to write and tell you; being alone。
I have excellent news of Fanny; who is much better for the change。
My father is still very yellow; and very old; and very weak; but
yesterday he seemed happier; and smiled; and followed what was
said; even laughed; I think。 When he came away; he said to me;
'Take care of yourself; my dearie;' whic