The Works of Robert Louis Stevenson - Swanston Edition, Vol. 23Stevenson, Robert Louis
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The Works of Robert Louis Stevenson - Swanston Edition, Vol. 23
Stevenson, Robert Louis
Stevenson, Robert Louis, 1850-1894 -- Correspondence
2. Plays, dear boy, are madness for me just now. The best play is
hopeless before six months, and more likely eighteen for outsiders like
you and me. And understand me, I have to get money _soon_, or it has no
further interest for me; I am nearly through my capital; with what pluck
I can muster against great anxieties and in a very shattered state of
health, I am trying to do things that will bring in money soon; and I
could not, if I were not mad, step out of my way to work at what might
perhaps bring me in more but months ahead. Journalism, you know well, is
not my forte; yet if I could only get a roving commission from a paper,
I should leap at it and send them goodish (no more than that) goodish
stuff.
As for my poor literature, dear Henley, you must expect for a time to
find it worse and worse. Perhaps, if God favours me a little at last, it
will pick up again. Now I am fighting with both hands, a hard battle,
and my work, while it will be as good as I can make it, will probably be
worth twopence. If you despised the _Donkey_, dear boy, you should have
told me so at the time, not reserved it for a sudden revelation just now
when I am down in health, wealth, and fortune. But I am glad you have
said so at last. Never, please, delay such confidences any more. If they
come quickly, they are a help; if they come after long silence, they
feel almost like a taunt.
Now, to read all this, any one would think you had written unkindly,
which is not so, as God who made us knows. But I wished to put myself
right ere I went on to state myself. Nothing has come but the volume of
Labiche; the _Burns_ I have now given up; the P.O. authorities plainly
regard it as contraband; make no further efforts in that direction. But,
please, if anything else of mine appears, _see that my people have a
copy_. I hoped and supposed my own copy would go as usual to the old
address, and, let me use Scotch, I was fair affrontit when I found this
had not been done.
You have not told me how you are and I heard you had not been well.
Please remedy this.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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