the days of my life-第37部分

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I　suppose　that　Lang　did　send　this　letter；　and　that　I　returned　it　to　him。　I　believe　that　subsequently　he　lost　both　the　letter　and　the　poem。　Luckily；　however；　I　took　the　trouble　to　keep　a　copy　of　the　latter；　and　here　it　is。
1。
Awdawcious　Odyshes；
Your　conduc’　is　vicious；
Your　tale　is　suspicious
？？？An’　queer。
Ye　ancient　sea…roamer；
Ye　dour　auld　beach…ber；
Frae　Haggard　to　Homer
？？？Ye　veer。
2。
Sic　veerin’　and　steerin’！
What　port　are　ye　neerin’
As　frae　Egypt　to　Erin
？？？Ye　gang？
Ye　ancient　auld　blackguard；
Just　see　whaur　ye’re　staggered
From　Homer　to　Haggard
？？？And　Lang！
3。
In　stunt　and　in　strife
To　gang　seeking　a　wife　—
At　your　time　o’　life
？？？It　was　wrang。
An’　see！　Fresh　afflictions
Into　Haggard’s　descriptions
An’　the　plagues　o’　the　Egyptians
？？？Ye　sprang！
4。
The　folk　ye’re　now　in　wi’
Are　ill　to　begin　wi’
Or　to　risk　a　hale　skin　wi’
？？？In　breeks　—
They’re　blacker　and　hetter　—
（Just　ask　your　begetter）
And　far　frae　bein’　better
？？？Than　Greeks。
5。
Ther’s　your　Meriamun：
She’ll　mebbe　can　gammon
That　auld…furrand　salmon
？？？Yoursel’；
An’　Moses　and　Aaron
Will　gie　ye　your　fairin’
Wi’　fire　an’　het　airn
？？？In　Hell。
I　refuse　to　continue　longer。　I　had　an　excellent　half…verse　there；　but　couldn’t　get　the　necessary　pendant；　and　anyway　there’s　no　end　to　such　truck。
Yours；
R。　L。　S。
Now　I　will　turn　to　my　modern　novel；　“Beatrice。”　Oddly　enough；　Lang　liked　it；　although　he　says　somewhere　that　he　“infinitely　prefers”　Umslopogaas　and　Skallagrim。
I　have　read　your　chapters　of　“Beatrice。”　Sursum　corda：　it　moves；　it　has　go　and　plenty　of　it。　。　。　。　I　fear　it　is　a　deal　more　popular　line　than　“The　World’s　Desire。”
May　8th。
I　have　read　“Beatrice；”　and　if　she　interests　the　public　as　much　as　she　does　me；　she’ll　do。　But　I　have　marked　it　a　good　deal；　and　would　be　glad　to　go　through　it　with　you；　looking　over　the　scribbled　suggestions。　It　is　too　late；　but　what　a　good　character　some　male　Elizabeth　would　have　been：　nosing　for　dirt；　scandal；　spite　and　lies。　He　might　easily　have　been　worked　in；　I　think。　。　。　。　They　＇i。e。　the　hero　and　heroine＇　are　a　good　deal　more　in　love　than　Odysseus；　Laertes’　son；　and　Mrs。　Menelaus！　It　is　odd：　usually　you　“reflect”　too　much；　and　yet　in　this　tale；　I　think；　a　few　extra　reflections　might　have　been　in　place。　I　feel　a　Thackerayan　desire　to　moralise。
Here　is　another　allusion。
A　letter　I　wrote　anent　B。　was　never　posted。　I　said　I　did　not　quite　think　Geoffrey　gave　the　sense　of　power；　etc。；　and　that　his　rudeness　to　B。　was　overdone　and　cubbish；　which　you　notice　yourself。　I　think；　in　volume　shape；　that　might　yet　be　amended。
Miss　Marie　Corelli　writes　on　June　12；　1890：
If　you　are　still　in　town；　and　you　would　favour　me　with　a　call　on　Sunday　afternoon　next；　about　five　o’clock；　I　should　be　so　pleased　to　reneonths　past；　when　your　kindly　words　made　me　feel　more　happy　and　encouraged　me　in　my　uphill　clamber！　I　saw　you　from　the　gallery　at　the　Literary　Fund　Dinner；　and　wished　I　had　had　the　chance　of　speaking　to　you。　Your　book　“Beatrice”　is　beautiful　—　full　of　poetry　and　deep　thought　—　but　I　don’t　believe　the　public　—　that　with　obstinate　pertinacity　look　to　you　for　a　continuation　ad　infinitum　of　“King　Solomon’s　Mines”　and　“She”　—　will　appreciate　it　as　they　ought　and　as　it　deserves。　Whenever　I　see　a　World　and　Pall　Mall　Gazette　vulgarly　sneering　at　a　work　of　literature；　I　conclude　that　it　must　be　good　—　exceptionally　so！　—　and　this　is　generally　a　correct　estimate：　it　certainly　was　so　concerning　“Beatrice。”
Trusting　you　will　e　and　see　me　（we　are　very　quiet　people　and　don’t　give　crushes！）；
Believe　me；
Very　sincerely　yours；
Marie　Corelli。
Here　is　a　letter　from　the　late　Lady　Florence　Dixie；　whom　I　first　met　years　before　in　South　Africa；　which　is　interesting　as　showing　that　in　the　year　1890　she　held　views　that　since　then　have　bee　very　mon。　In　short；　she　was　a　proto…suffragette。
You　will；　I　hope；　excuse　this　letter；　and　not　misunderstand　me　in　what　I　say。　I　have　just　finished　reading　your　“Beatrice；”　and　have　put　it　down　with　a　feeling　that　it　is　only　another　book　in　the　many　which　proclaims　the　rooted　idea　in　men’s　minds　that　women　are　born　to　suffer　and　work　for　men；　to　hide　all　their　natural　gifts　that　man　may　rule　alone。
Does　it　not　strike　you　that　Beatrice　—　if　she　had　been　given　equal　chances　with　Geoffrey　—　would　have　made　a　name　as　great；　aye；　greater　than　his？　Yet　because　she　is　a　woman　you　will　give　her　no　such　chance。　You　leave　her　to　her　useless；　aimless；　curtailed　and　wretched　life　which　ends　in　suicide。　Think　you　not　that　Beatrice　in　Geoffrey’s　shoes　might　have　made　a　great　name　for　good？　Forgive　me　—　but　as　you　can　write；　why　not　use　your　pen　to　upraise　woman；　to　bid　her　bee　a　useful　member　of　society　—　the　true　panion　and　co…mate　of　man；　and　they　working　together　shall　help　to　make　impossible　such　miserable　victims　of　a　false　and　unnatural　bringing　up　as　Elizabeth　and　Lady　Honoria？　You　hold　such　women　up　to　scorn。　Yet　are　they　the　fruit　of　unnatural　laws　which　men　have　wrongfully　imposed　on　womankind。　Greatly　and　in　many　ways　does　woman　err　in　all　paths　of　life　—　but　is　she　entirely　to　blame？　You　men　have　made　her　your　plaything　and　slave：　she　is　regarded　more　in　the　light　of　a　brood　mare　than　anything　else；　and　if　within　her　narrow　sphere　she　errs；　who　is　to　blame？　Not　her；　believe　me；　but　the　false　laws　that　made　her　what　she　is。
I　have　just　published　a　new　book；　“Gloriana；　or；　The　Revolution　of　1900。”
Will　you　give　me　the　pleasure　of　accepting　a　copy　if　I　send　you　one？　If　you　read　it；　you　will　not　misunderstand　this　letter　I　hope。
Believe　me；
Sincerely　yours；
Florence　Dixie。
P。S。　—　I　hope　you　will　excuse　me　for　sending　you　some　papers　which　will　show　you　that　there　are　some　women；　and　men　too；　who　feel　that　the　cruel　position　of　woman　is　unbearable。
Alas！　1900　has　e　and　gone　years　ago；　and　the　Revolution　is　still　to　seek。　But　perhaps　it　is　at　hand。　At　any　rate　Lady　Florence　strove　manfully　for　her　cause　in　those　early　days；　if　in　the　circumstances　“manfully”　is　the　right　word　to　use。
I　find　a　letter　dealing　with　“Beatrice”　from　Cordy　Jeaffreson；　from　which　I　quote　an　extract：
。　。　。　It　is　a　fine；　stirring；　effective　story；　but　with　all　its　power　and　dexterity　it　is　not　the　book　which　will　determine　your　eventual　place　in　the　annals　of　literature。　You　will　write　that　book　some　ten　years　hence；　when　I　shall　be　resting　under　the　violets；　and　when　you　are　enjoying　the　fullness　of　your　triumph；　you　will　perhaps　give　me　a　kindly　thought　and　say；　“The　old　man　was　right。”　In　a　line；　it　is　no　small　thing　to　have　thrown　off　“Beatrice；”　but　you　will　do　something　much　greater　when　“you’ve　e　to　forty　year。”　The　story　strengthens　my　confidence　in　you；　though　it　falls　short　of　all　I　hoped　for　you。　This　is　not　damning　with　faint　praise。
Ever　yours；
J。　C。　J。
Alas！　that　wondrous　work　of　fiction　which　Cordy　Jeaffreson　anticipated　never　was　and　never　will　be　written　by　me。　Be　it　good　or　be　it　bad；　the　best　that　I　can　do　in　the　lines　of　romance　and　novel…writing　is　to　be　found　among　the　first　dozen　or　so　of　the　books　that　I　wrote；　say　between　“King　Solomon’s　Mines”　and　“Montezuma’s　Daughter。”　Also　I　would　add　this。　A　man’s　mind　does　not　always　remain　the　same。　People　are　apt　to　say　of　any　individual　writer　that　he　has　gone　off；　whereas　the　truth　may　be　merely　that　he　has　changed；　and　that　his　abilities　are　showing　themselves　in　another　form。　Now；　as　it　happens　in　my　own　case；　in　the　year　1891　I　received　a　great　shock；　also　subsequently　for　a　long　period　my　health　was　bad。　Although　from　necessity　I　went　on　with　the　writing　of　stories；　and　do　so　still；　it　has　not　been　with　the　same　zest。　Active　rather　than　imaginative　life　has　appealed　to　me　more；　and　resulted　in　the　production　of　such　works　as　“Rural　England；”　“A　Farmer’s　Year；”　and　others。　Moreover；　I　have　never　really　cared　for　novel…writing：　romance　has　always　made　a　greater　appeal　to　me。
Here　is　a　letter　from　Lang；　to　whom　I　had　evidently　shown　that　from　Mr。　Jeaffreson　which　is　quoted　above。
I　don’t　agree　much　with　Jeaffreson。　The　book　is　a　promise；　by　its　nature；　and　rather　contains　good　things　than　is　very　good；　to　my　taste；　but　it　is　only　taste；　not　reason。　Lord　knows　what　you　may　write；　or　anybody　read；　in　ten　years。　More　than　sufficient　to　the　day　is　the　evil　thereof。　The　character　of　Geoffrey　goes　against　my　grain；　but　what　he　should　have　been；　to　satisfy　me；　I　don’t　know。
I　imagine　you　missed　your　tip；　by　not　being　born　nine　hundred　years　ago。　I　might　have　been　a　monk　of　Ely；　and　you　might　have　flayed　me　and　posed　a　saga　at　first　hand。　It　would　have　been　a　good　saga；　but　I　could　not　stand　being　flayed；　I　know。　I　am　worried　and　sad　and　seedy；　and　far　from　a　successful　correspondent。　。　。　。　Jeaff。　is　very　kind；　however；　though　not　a　prophet　nor　a　critic；　I　think。　The　former　quality　is　much　better。
Some　years　after　“Beatrice”　was　published　I　was　horrified　to　receive　two　anonymous　or　semi…anonymous　letters　from　ladies　who　alleged　that　their　husbands；　or　the　husbands　of　someone　connected　with　them　—　one　of　them　a　middle…aged　clergyman　—　after　reading　“Beatrice；”　had　made　advances　to　young　ladies　of　that　name；　or　perhaps　the　young　ladies　had　made　advances　to　them　which　they　more　or　less　reciprocated　—　I　forget　the　exact　facts。　Also　I　heard　that　a　gentleman　and　a　lady　had　practised　the　sleep…walking　scene；　with　different　results　from　those　recorded　in　the　book。　These　stories　troubled　me　so　much　—　since　I　had　never　dreamed　of　such　an　issue　to　a　tale　with　a　different　moral　—　that　I　wished　to　suppress　the　book；　and　wrote　to　Charles　Longman　suggesting　that　this　should　be　done；　also　I　took　counsel　with　Lang　and　other　friends。　They　thought　me　extremely　foolish；　and　were　rather　indignant　about　the　business。　Longman’s　views　are　expressed　in　such　of　his　letters　as　I　can　find　dealing　with　the　matter；　only　he　added　that；　even　if　there　had　been　any　reason　for　it；　it　was　not　possible　to　suppress　a　book　so　widely　known；　especially　after　it　had　been　pirated　in　America。　Lang’s　letters　I　have　not　time　to　find　at　present；　but　I　remember　that　they　were　to　the　same　effect。　Here　are　those　from　Longman；　or　as　much　of　them　as　is　pertinent。
39　Paternoster　Row：
November　28；　1894。
My　dear　Rider；　—　I　will　get　hold　of　the　Saturday　Review　and　Spectator　reviews　of　“Beatrice。”　I　have　not　heard　anything　from　Liverpool　yet　about　that　person；　but　I　will　let　you　hear　as　soon　as　I　can。　I　will　not　write　fully　yet　on　the　subject；　but　I　may　say　that　the　idea　that　the　character　of　Beatrice　could　lead　someone　into　vice　is　preposterous。　Still　less　is　the　example　of　Bingham　likely　to　throw　an　unnatural　glamour　over　seduction：　in　the　first　place；　he　was　man　enough　to　resist　temptation；　in　the　next　place；　both　he　and　Beatrice　were　most　unmercifully　punished。　Do　not　let　this　matter　worry　you。　I　assure　you　there　is　nothing　you　need　regret。
Longman　also　wrote：
Christmas　Day；　1894。
I　like　the　Preface　to　“Beatrice”　much　better　as　amended。　Lang　is　quite　right：　your　feelings　in　the　matter　did　infinite　credit　to　your　heart；　but　you　disturbed　yourself　unnecessarily。　I　am　glad　we　inquired　into　that　Liverpool　story　and　pricked　the　bubble。　I　will　send　you　a　review　of　the　Preface。　I　return　Lang’s　letter。
I　have　now　found　this　letter　of　Lang’s　to　which　Longman　refers。　It　is　dated　from　St。　Andrews　on　December　20th；　and　begins：
You　Confounded　Ass。　The　thing　is　Rot。　Don’t　take　it　au　serieux。　At　least　that　is　how　it　strikes　me。　If　you　must　say　something；　say　what　I　leave　in。　The　novel　seems　to　me　perfectly　devoid　of　moral　harm。　There　are　sill　hopes　here　that　the　Samoan　story　is　a　lie　＇this　refers　to　the　death　of　Stevenson＇。　It　has　caused　me　sincere　grief；　but；　at　fifty；　one　seems　rather　case…hardened。　However；　don’t　you　go　and　leave　the　world　before　me。　R。　L。　S。　had　as　much　pluck；　and　as　kind　a　heart；　as　any　man　that　ever　lived；　and　extraordinary　charm。
The　“Liverpool　story”　to　which　Longman　refers　was；　I　believe；　one　of　those　detailed　in　the　anonymous　letters。　Evidently　he　caused　it　to　be　inquired　into　and　found　that　it　was　baseless。
The　end　of　the　matter　was　that　I　went　through　the　tale　carefully；　modified　or　removed　certain　passages　that　might　be　taken　to　suggest　that　holy　matrimony　is　not　always　perfect　in　its　working；　etc。；　and　wrote　a　short　preface　which　may　now　be　read　in　all　the　copies　printed　since　that　date。
As　I　have　said；　the　incident　disturbed　me　a　good　deal；　and　more　or　less　set　me　against　the　writing　of　novels　of　modern　life。　It　is　very　well　to　talk　about　art　with　a　large　A；　but　I　have　always　felt　that　the　author　of　books　which　go　anywhere　and　everywhere　has　some　responsibilities。　Therefore　I　have　tried　to　avoid　topics　that　might　inflame　even　minds　which　are　very　ready　to　be　set　on　fire。
The　charge　has　been　brought　against　me　that　my　pages　have　breathed　war。　I　admit　it；　and　on　this　point　am　quite　unrepentant。　Personally　I　may　say　that　I　have　a　perfect　horror　of　war；　and　hope　that　I　may　not　live　to　see　another　in　which　my　country　is　involved；　for　it　seems　to　me　terrible　that　human　beings　should　destroy　each　other；　often　enough　from　motives　that　do　not　bear　examination。　Yet　there　is　such　a　thing　as　righteous　war；　and　if　my　land　were　invaded　I　should　think　poorly　of　anyone；　myself　included；　who　did　not　fight　like　a　wild…cat。　I　am　not　even　sure　that　I　would　not　poison　the　wells　if　I　were　unable　to　get　rid　of　the　enemy　in　any　other　way。　What　is　the　difference　between　killing　a　man　with　a　drug　and　killing　him　with　a　bomb　or　by　hunger　and　thirst？　Patriotism　is　the　first　duty；　and　the　thing　is　to　be　rid　of　him　somehow　and　save　your　country。　However；　this　is　a　question　on　which　I　will　not　enter。
For　the　rest　war　brings　forth　many　noble　actions；　and　there　can　be　no　harm　in　teaching　the　young　that　their　hands　were　given　to　them　to　defend　their　flag　and　their　heads。　If　once　a　nation　forgets　to　learn　that　lesson　it　will　very　soon　be　called　upon　to　write　Finis　beneath　its　history。　I　fear　that　we；　or　some　of　us；　are　in　that　way　now　—　or　so　I　judge　from　the　horror　expressed　upon　every　side　at　the　doctrine　that　men　should　not　grudge　a　year　or　so　of　their　lives　to　be　spent　in　learning　the　art　of　war。　If　God　gave　us　our　homes；　I　presume　that　He　meant　for　us　to　protect　them！
I　think　that　the　next　book　I　wrote　after　“Eric；”　or　at　any　rate　the　next　that　was　printed；　was　“Nada　the　Lily；”　which　I　began　upon　June　27；　1889；　and　finished　on　January　15；　1890。　It　is　pure　Zulu　story；　and；　as　I　believe　I　have　said；　I　consider　it　my　best　or　one　of　my　best　books。　At　any　rate；　the　following　letter　from　my　friend　Rudyard　Kipling　seems　to　show　that　this　story　has　one　claim　on　the　gratitude　of　the　world。
Vermont；　U。S。A。：
October　20；　1895。
Dear　Haggard；　—　Watt　has　just　forwarded　me　a　letter　addressed　to　you　from　a　bee…keeping　man　ething　of　a　jungle　tale　of　mine。　I　dare　say　it　didn’t　amuse　you；　but　it　made　me　chuckle　a　little　and　reminded　me；　incidentally；　that　the　man　was　nearer　the　mark　than　he　knew：　for　it　was　a　chance　sentence　of　yours　in　“Nada　the　Lily”　that　started　me　off　on　a　track　that　ended　in　my　writing　a　lot　of　wolf　stories。　You　remember　in　your　tale　where　the　wolves　leaped　up　at　the　feet　of　a　dead　man　sitting　on　a　rock？　Somewhere　on　that　page　I　got　the　notion。　It’s　curious　how　things　e　back　again；　isn’t　it？