按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！
I have one more allusion to my brother besides the letter which came to me with “The Man Haggard。” It is written on a little triangular bit of foolscap pinned into the manuscript of “Nada the Lily。” I suppose that Lang must have sent it to me。
“If you see Haggard； tell him we have a great affection for his brother。 Our home rejoices when we see him ing； and that Chaka mourning for his mother is great。”
Here is this last letter pinned into the first of the two acpanying； parchment…bound volumes； that which is entitled “An Object of Pity； or； The Man Haggard。 A Romance。 By Many petent Hands。 Imprinted at Amsterdam。” These volumes were sent to me by Stevenson in July 1893。
Tivoli Hotel； Apia； Samoa；
South Paci。
Dear Rider Haggard； — I send you herewith a couple of small （and； so to speak； indecent） volumes in which your brother and I have been indulging in the juvenile sport of shying bricks at each other。 Honi soit qui mal y pense； say I。 And I hope you will say the same。 We are a large party； with nothing to do — Lady Jersey； my wife； Captain Leigh； your brother and I； and Mrs。 Strong； my daughter…inlaw — and that which we wrote was not according to wisdom。 I have heard some of yours called in question for steepness； here is your revenge。
Yours very truly；
Robert Louis Stevenson。
The panion volume is entitled “Objects of Pity； or； Self and pany。 By a Gentleman of Quality。 Imprinted at Amsterdam。” It is corrected throughout in my brother Bazett’s handwriting。 I should judge that it went to press without his having the advantage of seeing proofs。 Pinned to the title…page is the following letter to me from Bazett。
Apia； Samoa： July 17； 1893。
Dear Rider； — Enclosed letter from R。 L。 Stevn。 speaks for itself。 He says we all had nothing to do。 He is wrong there。 They wrote the “Object of Pity” on the days I was at work at n。 I did not write my letter till 3 ＇word illegible＇ after； when Stevenson insisted on having it printed and took it to Sydney and had it printed。 I was riled at being called “an object of Pity” rather； so set to and gave them a Roland for their Oliver。
We have had a very bad time here。 I have seen sights of “The French Revolution” — heads carried about in the streets with yells and shouts — wounded and dead carried along。 Also a beastly bloody axe which decapitated “young Mataafa” shoved under my nose to admire and adore。 I told my friend “Safolu” to take his beastly thing away and he seemed quite surprised 。 。 。 。 These books are R。 L。 S。‘s gift to you — write him a line 。 。 。 。
Your loving brother；
Bazett M。 Haggard。
Stevenson and I are great friends； he is such a good chap； but as I say of him in my book。
As regards the volumes themselves； which seem to fetch a great deal of money when they e on the market； I am only able to say that I have studied them with great zeal but am unable to make head or tail of them。 Perhaps this is because I do not possess the key to the joke or understand the local allusions。
I have only one more relic of Stevenson； a very amusing poem which he wrote to Lang and myself on “The World’s Desire；” or rather a copy of it； for I believe that Lang has lost the original。 Again I must express my sorrow that I never saw Stevenson。 Evidently he was a delightful man and as brilliant as he was charming； truly a master of his craft。 “Dr。 Jeckell and Mr。 Hyde” has always seemed to me one of the most remarkable things of its sort in the English language。 Longman gave me an early copy of it just after it was issued from the press； and this I still possess somewhere。 I shall never forget the thrill with which I read the story； in places the horror of it is enough to cause the hair to rise。 His essays； too； are almost unmatched； at any rate in our time； and next to these I should put “The Master of Ballantrae。” At least such is my individual taste。
About “King Solomon’s Mines” I have only this to add。 In it I made a mistake with reference to an eclipse； which brought me into much trouble with astronomers； and also with numbers of the reading public who hurried to expose my ignorance。 In a subsequent edition I rectified the mistake； but that produced more trouble； since students of the work had violent arguments between themselves； each quoting the versions that they had read； and wrote to me to settle their disputes。 I have always found the movements of the heavenly bodies very ticklish things to touch。 Whatever one says about the moon； for instance； is pretty sure to be wrong。
I may say this further； that no book that I have written seems to have conveyed a greater idea of reality。 At this moment I hold in my hand at least a dozen letters sorted from what I call “Unknown Correspondents；” by which I mean munications received from individuals with whom I have no personal acquaintance。 Every one of the writers of these epistles is anxious to know whether or not the work is a record of fact。 Even the great dealer in precious stones； Mr。 Streeter — I fear I must say the late Mr。 Streeter — approached me on the subject。 I believe he actually sent an expedition to look for King Solomon’s Mines； or at any rate talked of doing so。 Nor was he so far out in his reckoning； for since that day they have been discovered — more or less。 At any rate Rhodesia has been discovered； which is a land full of gems and gold； the same land； I believe； as that whence King Solomon did actually draw his wealth。 Also Queen Sheba’s Breasts have been found； or something very like to them； and traces of the great road that I describe。 Doubtless I heard faint rumours of these things during my sojourn in Africa； having made it my habit through life to keep my ears open； but at the best they were very faint。 The remainder I imagined； and imagination has often proved to be the precursor of the truth。 The mines of Kukuana land； alias Rhodesia； are destined to produce much more treasure than ever Solomon or the Phoenicians won out of them。 Who built the vast Zimbabwe and other temples or fortresses？ Some ridiculous scientist has alleged within the last few years that these were reared by the Portuguese at the time that those very Portuguese were talking of them as the work of the devil or of ancient magicians in an unknown age。 The thing is absurd。 Those edifices are the relics of a lost civilisation which worshipped the Nature gods。 Who they were； what they were； we do not and perhaps never shall know。 Andrew Lang has stated the whole problem much better than I can ever hope to do； in a poem he once wrote at my request for a paper in which I was interested。 I do not think that those verses have ever been republished； so I ：13
13 Republished in The Poetical Words of Andrew Lang； vol。 iii； p。 42 （1923）； under the title of “Zimbabwe。” — Ed。
Into the darkness whence they came；
They passed — their country knoweth none；
They and their gods without a name
Partake the same oblivion。
Their work they did； their work is done；
Whose gold； it may be； shone like fire；
About the brows of Solomon；
And in the House of God’s Desire。
The pestilence； the desert spear；
Smote them： they passed with none to tell
The names of them that laboured here：
Stark walls and crumbling crucible；
Straight gates； and graves； and ruined well；
Abide； dumb monuments of old。
We know； but that men fought and fell；
Like us — like us — for love of gold。
A girls’ school； or some members of it； evidently weary of the society of their own sex； wrote congratulating me with great earnestness because I had in “King Solomon’s Mines” produced a thrilling book “without a heroine。”
Truly in those days my industry was great。 While on my summer holiday in 1885 I ain；” the sequel to “King Solomon’s Mines；” from the first word to the last； although it did not appear until about a couple of years later； after it had run through Longman’s Magazine。 On what exact dates I began and finished the story I do not know； though possibly these are entered on the manuscript； of which I made a present to my friend Charles Longman。14
14 These dates are not entered on the MS。 — Ed。
On my return to town in the late autumn I began a novel of a very different style； which was afterwards published under the name of “Jess。” The manuscript of “Jess” does not state the date of its mencement； but at the end appears the date of December 31； 1885； showing that it was finished on that day。 This book I wrote for the most part in the chambers； at 1 Elm Court； that I shared with Mr。 Kerr； the son of missioner Kerr； upon an old teak table with a leather top。 This table； which I bought of a second…hand dealer； had evidently begun life in some ship where the cabins were low； for it was so short in the legs that； until they were heightened in some way； it used to make my back ache to write at it； also it has all the solidity mon to ship’s furniture。 Now it is used for trimming lamps in the basement of Ditchingham House。
Whenever I was not engaged in Court； where I hung about a great deal； and even for a while reported Divorce and Probate cases for The Times on behalf of that journal’s regular reporter； an old barrister name Kelly； when he was absent on a holiday； I sat at this table in the dingy room at 1 Elm Court and toiled at “Jess。” Sometimes this was no easy task； since young barristers of my acquaintance； with time upon their hands； would enter and scoff at my literary labours。 In the evening I placed what I had written in a kind of American cloth music…roll； which either my wife or Miss Barber made for me； and carried it home to West Kensington； so that I might continue my work after dinner。 In fact； there were two of these rolls。 The first of them I lost on my homeward way； I know not how or where。 It contained about a dozen foolscap sheets of closely written manuscript of one of the most important parts of the book； that which； amongst other things； describes the character of Frank Muller and how； after he had attempted the murder of Neal and Jess in the Vaal River； he galloped away pursued by his own terrors。 I remember that I was much distressed at this loss； thinking that what I had written was the best thing I had ever done。 I waited awhile； hoping that the address written within the case might bring it back to me。 But it never did。 So I rewrote the missing sheets from memory； which has never been my strong point。 I wonder whether they are better or worse than those that departed！
So soon as “Jess；” of which I will speak more hereafter； was finished； or rather about a month later； I began another tale which the world knows as “She。” The exact date of its mencement is uncertain； for it has been obliterated by a clip that fastened the manuscript together； and all that remains is “Feb。86。” At the end； however； is inscribed “Finished 18 March 1886。” Therefore； even supposing that it was begun upon the 1st February； which would mean that I had allowed myself a month’s rest after finishing “Jess；” the whole romance was pleted in a little over six weeks。 Moreover； it was never rewritten； and the manuscript carries but few corrections。 The fact is that it was written at white heat； almost without rest； and that is the best way to pose。
I remember that when I sat down to the task my ideas as to its development were of the vaguest。 The only clear notion that I had in my head was that of an immortal woman inspired by an immortal love。 All the rest shaped itself round this figure。 And it came — it came faster than my poor aching hand could set it down。
Well do I recall taking the pleted manuscript to the office of my literary agent； Mr。 A。 P。 Watt； and throwing it on the table with the remark： “There is what I shall be remembered by。” Well do I recall also visiting Mr。 Watt at his office； which then was at 2 Paternoster Square； and finding him out。 As the business was urgent； and I did not wish to have to return； I sat down at his table； asked for some foolscap； and in the hour or two that I had to wait wrote the scene of the destruction of She in the Fire of Life。 This； however； was of course a little while — it may have been a few days — before I delivered the manuscript。
It would seem； therefore； that between January 1885 and March 18； 1886； with my own hand； and unassisted by any secretary； I wrote “King Solomon