Robert Louis Stevenson [20]
make good pickings after I am dead, and a man could make some kind of a book out of it, without much trouble. So for God's sake don't lose them, and they will prove a piece of provision for 'my floor old family,' as Simele calls it."
But their great charm remains: they are as free and gracious and serious and playful and informal as before. Stevenson's traits of character are all here: his largeness of heart, his delicacy, his sympathy, his fun, his pathos, his boylike frolicsomeness, his fine courage, his love of the sea (for he was by nature a sailor), his passion for action and adventure despite his ill-health, his great patience with others and fine adaptability to their temper (he says that he never gets out of temper with those he has to do with), his unbounded, big-hearted hopefulness, and fine perseverance in face of difficulties. What could be better than the way in which he tells that in January, 1892, when he had a bout of influenza and was dictating ST IVES to his stepdaughter, Mrs Strong, he was "reduced to dictating to her in the deaf-and-dumb alphabet"? - and goes on:
"The amanuensis has her head quite turned, and believes herself to be the author of this novel [AND IS TO SOME EXTENT. - A.M.] 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! . . . 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."
Truly, a rare and rich nature which could thus draw sunshine out of its trials! - which, by aid of the true philosopher's stone of cheerfulness and courage, could transmute the heavy dust and clay to gold.
His interests are so wide that he is sometimes pulled in different and conflicting directions, as in the contest between his desire to aid Mataafa and the other chiefs, and his literary work - between letters to the TIMES about Samoan politics, and, say, DAVID BALFOUR. Here is a characteristic bit in that strain:
"I have a good dose of the devil in my pipestem atomy; I have had my little holiday outing in my kick at THE YOUNG CHEVALIER, and I guess I can settle to DAVID BALFOUR, to-morrow or Friday like a little man. I wonder if any one had ever more energy upon so little strength? I know there is a frost; . . . but I mean to break that frost inside two years, and pull off a big success, and Vanity whispers in my ear that I have the strength. If I haven't, whistle owre the lave o't! I can do without glory, and perhaps the time is not far off when I can do without corn. It is a time coming soon enough, anyway; and I have endured some two and forty years without public shame, and had a good time as I did it. If only I could secure a violent death, what a fine success! I wish to die in my boots; no more Land of Counterpane for me. To be drowned, to be shot, to be thrown from a horse - ay, to be hanged, rather than pass again through that slow dissolution."
He would not consent to act the invalid unless the spring ran down altogether; was keen for exercise and for mixing among men - his native servants if no others were near by. Here is a bit of confession and casuistry quite A LA Stevenson:
"To come down covered with mud and drenched with sweat and rain after some hours in the bush, change, rub down, and take a chair in the verandah, is to taste a quiet conscience. And the strange thing that I mark is this: If I go out and make sixpence, bossing my labourers and plying the cutlass or the spade, idiot conscience applauds me; if I sit in the house and make twenty pounds, idiot conscience wails over my neglect and the day wasted."
His relish for companionship is indeed strong. At one place he says:
"God knows I don't care who I chum with perhaps I like
But their great charm remains: they are as free and gracious and serious and playful and informal as before. Stevenson's traits of character are all here: his largeness of heart, his delicacy, his sympathy, his fun, his pathos, his boylike frolicsomeness, his fine courage, his love of the sea (for he was by nature a sailor), his passion for action and adventure despite his ill-health, his great patience with others and fine adaptability to their temper (he says that he never gets out of temper with those he has to do with), his unbounded, big-hearted hopefulness, and fine perseverance in face of difficulties. What could be better than the way in which he tells that in January, 1892, when he had a bout of influenza and was dictating ST IVES to his stepdaughter, Mrs Strong, he was "reduced to dictating to her in the deaf-and-dumb alphabet"? - and goes on:
"The amanuensis has her head quite turned, and believes herself to be the author of this novel [AND IS TO SOME EXTENT. - A.M.] 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! . . . 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."
Truly, a rare and rich nature which could thus draw sunshine out of its trials! - which, by aid of the true philosopher's stone of cheerfulness and courage, could transmute the heavy dust and clay to gold.
His interests are so wide that he is sometimes pulled in different and conflicting directions, as in the contest between his desire to aid Mataafa and the other chiefs, and his literary work - between letters to the TIMES about Samoan politics, and, say, DAVID BALFOUR. Here is a characteristic bit in that strain:
"I have a good dose of the devil in my pipestem atomy; I have had my little holiday outing in my kick at THE YOUNG CHEVALIER, and I guess I can settle to DAVID BALFOUR, to-morrow or Friday like a little man. I wonder if any one had ever more energy upon so little strength? I know there is a frost; . . . but I mean to break that frost inside two years, and pull off a big success, and Vanity whispers in my ear that I have the strength. If I haven't, whistle owre the lave o't! I can do without glory, and perhaps the time is not far off when I can do without corn. It is a time coming soon enough, anyway; and I have endured some two and forty years without public shame, and had a good time as I did it. If only I could secure a violent death, what a fine success! I wish to die in my boots; no more Land of Counterpane for me. To be drowned, to be shot, to be thrown from a horse - ay, to be hanged, rather than pass again through that slow dissolution."
He would not consent to act the invalid unless the spring ran down altogether; was keen for exercise and for mixing among men - his native servants if no others were near by. Here is a bit of confession and casuistry quite A LA Stevenson:
"To come down covered with mud and drenched with sweat and rain after some hours in the bush, change, rub down, and take a chair in the verandah, is to taste a quiet conscience. And the strange thing that I mark is this: If I go out and make sixpence, bossing my labourers and plying the cutlass or the spade, idiot conscience applauds me; if I sit in the house and make twenty pounds, idiot conscience wails over my neglect and the day wasted."
His relish for companionship is indeed strong. At one place he says:
"God knows I don't care who I chum with perhaps I like