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before I begin？ In our manner of collaboration （which I think the
only possible … I mean that of one person being responsible； and
giving the COUP DE POUCE to every part of the work） I was spared
the obviously hopeless business of trying to explain to my
collaborator what STYLE I wished a passage to be treated in。 These
are the times that illustrate to a man the inadequacy of spoken
language。 Now … to be just to written language … I can （or could）
find a language for my every mood； but how could I TELL any one
beforehand what this effect was to be； which it would take every
art that I possessed； and hours and hours of deliberate labour and
selection and rejection； to produce？ These are the impossibilities
of collaboration。 Its immediate advantage is to focus two minds
together on the stuff； and to produce in consequence an
extraordinarily greater richness of purview； consideration； and
invention。 The hardest chapter of all was 'Cross Questions and
Crooked Answers。' You would not believe what that cost us before
it assumed the least unity and colour。 Lloyd wrote it at least
thrice； and I at least five times … this is from memory。 And was
that last chapter worth the trouble it cost？ Alas； that I should
ask the question！ Two classes of men … the artist and the
educationalist … are sworn； on soul and conscience； not to ask it。
You get an ordinary； grinning； red…headed boy； and you have to
educate him。 Faith supports you； you give your valuable hours； the
boy does not seem to profit； but that way your duty lies； for which
you are paid； and you must persevere。 Education has always seemed
to me one of the few possible and dignified ways of life。 A
sailor； a shepherd； a schoolmaster … to a less degree； a soldier …
and （I don't know why； upon my soul； except as a sort of
schoolmaster's unofficial assistant； and a kind of acrobat in
tights） an artist； almost exhaust the category。
If I had to begin again … I know not … SI JEUNESSE SAVAIT； SI
VIEILLESSE POUVAIT 。 。 。 I know not at all … I believe I should try
to honour Sex more religiously。 The worst of our education is that
Christianity does not recognise and hallow Sex。 It looks askance
at it； over its shoulder； oppressed as it is by reminiscences of
hermits and Asiatic self…tortures。 It is a terrible hiatus in our
modern religions that they cannot see and make venerable that which
they ought to see first and hallow most。 Well； it is so； I cannot
be wiser than my generation。
But no doubt there is something great in the half…success that has
attended the effort of turning into an emotional religion； Bald
Conduct； without any appeal； or almost none； to the figurative；
mysterious； and constitutive facts of life。 Not that conduct is
not constitutive； but dear！ it's dreary！ On the whole； conduct is
better dealt with on the cast…iron 'gentleman' and duty formula；
with as little fervour and poetry as possible； stoical and short。
。 。 。 There is a new something or other in the wind； which
exercises me hugely： anarchy； … I mean； anarchism。 People who
（for pity's sake） commit dastardly murders very basely； die like
saints； and leave beautiful letters behind 'em （did you see
Vaillant to his daughter？ it was the New Testament over again）；
people whose conduct is inexplicable to me； and yet their spiritual
life higher than that of most。 This is just what the early
Christians must have seemed to the Romans。 Is this； then； a new
DRIVE among the monkeys？ Mind you； Bob； if they go on being
martyred a few years more； the gross； dull； not unkindly bourgeois
may get tired or ashamed or afraid of going on martyring； and the
anarchists come out at the top just like the early Christians。
That is； of course； they will step into power as a PERSONNEL； but
God knows what they may believe when they come to do so； it can't
be stranger or more improbable than what Christianity had come to
be by the same time。
Your letter was easily read； the pagination presented no
difficulty； and I read it with much edification and gusto。 To look
back； and to stereotype one bygone humour … what a hopeless thing！
The mind runs ever in a thousand eddies like a river between
cliffs。 You （the ego） are always spinning round in it； east； west；
north； and south。 You are twenty years old； and forty； and five；
and the next moment you are freezing at an imaginary eighty； you
are never the plain forty…four that you should be by dates。 （The
most philosophical language is the Gaelic； which has NO PRESENT
TENSE … and the most useless。） How； then； to choose some former
age； and stick there？
R。 L。 S。
Letter： TO SIR HERBERT MAXWELL
VAILIMA； SAMOA； SEPTEMBER 10； 1894。
DEAR SIR HERBERT MAXWELL； … I am emboldened by reading your very
interesting Rhind Lectures to put to you a question： What is my
name； Stevenson？
I find it in the forms Stevinetoun； Stevensoune； Stevensonne；
Stenesone； Stewinsoune； M'Stein； and MacStephane。 My family； and
（as far as I can gather） the majority of the inglorious clan；
hailed from the borders of Cunningham and Renfrew； and the upper
waters of the Clyde。 In the Barony of Bothwell was the seat of the
laird Stevenson of Stevenson； but； as of course you know； there is
a parish in Cunningham and places in Peebles and Haddington bearing
the same name。
If you can at all help me； you will render me a real service which
I wish I could think of some manner to repay。 … Believe me； yours
truly；
ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON。
P。S。 … I should have added that I have perfect evidence before me
that （for some obscure reason） Stevenson was a favourite alias with
the M'Gregors。
Letter： TO ALISON CUNNINGHAM
＇VAILIMA＇； OCTOBER 8TH 1894。
MY DEAR CUMMY； … So I hear you are ailing？ Think shame to
yourself！ So you think there is nothing better to be done with
time than that？ and be sure we can all do much ourselves to decide
whether we are to be ill or well！ like a man on the gymnastic bars。
We are all pretty well。 As for me； there is nothing the matter
with me in the world； beyond the disgusting circumstance that I am
not so young as once I was。 Lloyd has a gymnastic machine； and
practises upon it every morning for an hour： he is beginning to be
a kind of young Samson。 Austin grows fat and brown； and gets on
not so ill with his lessons； and my mother is in great price。 We
are having knock…me…down weather for heat； I never remember it so
hot before； and I fancy it means we are to have a hurricane again
this year； I think； since we came here； we have not had a single
gale of wind！ The Pacific is but a child to the North Sea； but
when she does get excited； and gets up and girds herself； she can
do something good。 We have had a very interesting business here。
I helped the chiefs who were in prison； and when they were set
free； what should they do but offer to make a part of my road for
me out of gratitude？ Well； I was ashamed to refuse； and the trumps
dug my road for me； and put up this inscription on a board：…
'CONSIDERING THE GREAT LOVE OF HIS EXCELLENCY TUSITALA IN HIS
LOVING CARE OF US IN OUR TRIBULATION IN THE PRISON WE HAVE MADE
THIS GREAT GIFT； IT SHALL NEVER BE MUDDY； IT SHALL GO ON FOR EVER；
THIS ROAD THAT WE HAVE DUG！' We had a great feast when it was
done； and I read them a kind of lecture； which I dare say Auntie
will have； and can let you see。 Weel； guid bye to ye； and joy be
wi' ye！ I hae nae time to say mair。 They say I'm gettin' FAT … a
fact！ … Your laddie； with all love；
ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON。
Letter： TO JAMES PAYN
VAILIMA； SAMOA； NOV。 4； 1894。
MY DEAR JAMES PAYN； … I am asked to relate to you a little incident
of domestic life at Vailima。 I had read your GLEAMS OF MEMORY； No。
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