did not deserve it. I believe the notice will be interesting
and useful.
My father's last letter, owing to the use of a quill pen and the neglect of
blotting-paper, was hopelessly illegible. Every one tried, and every one
failed to decipher an important word on which the interest of one whole
clause (and the letter consisted of two) depended.
I find I can make little more of this; but I'll spare the blots. - Dear
people, ever your loving son,
R. L. S.
I will try again, being a giant refreshed by the house being empty. The
presence of people is the great obstacle to letter-writing. I deny that
letters should contain news (I mean mine; those of other people should).
But mine should contain appropriate sentiments and humorous
nonsense, or nonsense without the humour. When the house is empty,
the mind is seized with a desire - no, that is too strong - a willingness to
pour forth unmitigated rot, which constitutes (in me) the true spirit of
correspondence. When I have no remarks to offer (and nobody to offer
them to), my pen flies, and you see the remarkable consequence of a
page literally covered with words and genuinely devoid of sense. I can
always do that, if quite alone, and I like doing it; but I have yet to learn
that it is beloved by correspondents. The deuce of it is, that there is no
end possible but the end of the paper; and as there is very little left of
that - if I cannot stop writing - suppose you give up reading. It would
all come to the same thing; and I think we should all be happier...
Letter: TO W. H. LOW
[SKERRYVORE, BOURNEMOUTH], JAN. 2ND, 1886.
MY DEAR LOW, - LAMIA has come, and I do not know how to thank
you, not only for the beautiful art of the designs, but for the handsome
and apt words of the dedication. My favourite is 'Bathes unseen,' which
is a masterpiece; and the next, 'Into the green recessed woods,' is
perhaps more remarkable, though it does not take my fancy so
imperiously. The night scene at Corinth pleases me also. The second
part offers fewer opportunities. I own I should like to see both
ISABELLA and the EVE thus illustrated; and then there's HYPERION
- O, yes, and ENDYMION! I should like to see the lot: beautiful
pictures dance before me by hundreds: I believe ENDYMION would
suit you best. It also is in faery-land; and I see a hundred opportunities,
cloudy and flowery glories, things as delicate as the cobweb in the bush;
actions, not in themselves of any mighty purport, but made for the
pencil: the feast of Pan, Peona's isle, the 'slabbed margin of a well,' the
chase of the butterfly, the nymph, Glaucus, Cybele, Sleep on his couch,
a farrago of unconnected beauties. But I divagate; and all this sits in the
bosom of the publisher.
What is more important, I accept the terms of the dedication with a
frank heart, and the terms of your Latin legend fairly. The sight of your
pictures has once more awakened me to my right mind; something may
come of it; yet one more bold push to get free of this prisonyard of the
abominably ugly, where I take my daily exercise with my
contemporaries. I do not know, I have a feeling in my bones, a
sentiment which may take on the forms of imagination, or may not. If it
does, I shall owe it to you; and the thing will thus descend from Keats
even if on the wrong side of the blanket. If it can be done in prose - that
is the puzzle - I divagate again. Thank you again: you can draw and yet
you do not love the ugly: what are you doing in this age? Flee, while it
is yet time; they will have your four limbs pinned upon a stable door to
scare witches. The ugly, my unhappy friend, is DE RIGUEUR: it is the
only wear! What a chance you threw away with the serpent! Why had
Apollonius no pimples? Heavens, my dear Low, you do not know your
business....
I send you herewith a Gothic gnome for your Greek nymph; but the
gnome is interesting, I think, and he came out of a deep mine, where he
guards the fountain of tears. It is not always the time to rejoice. - Yours
ever,
R. L. S.
The gnome's name is JEKYLL & HYDE; I believe you will find he is
likewise quite willing to answer to the name of Low or Stevenson.
SAME DAY. - I have copied out on the other sheet some bad verses,
which somehow your picture suggested; as
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