"I, Epictetus, was a slave; and sick in body, and wretched in poverty; and beloved by the gods.""Zosima, who while she lived was a slave only in her body, has now found deliverance for that also."
"I, Epictetus, was a slave; and sick in body, and wretched in poverty; and beloved by the gods."
"Zosima, who while she lived was a slave only in her body, has now found deliverance for that also."
How might we, over many an "independent" Englishman, reverse this last legend, and write—
"This man, who while he lived was free only in his body, has now found captivity for that also."
"This man, who while he lived was free only in his body, has now found captivity for that also."
I will not pass without notice—for it bears also on wide interests—your correspondent's question, how my principles differ from the ordinary economist's view of supply and demand. Simply in that the economy I have taught, in opposition to the popular view, is the science which not merely ascertains the relations of existing demand and supply, but determines whatoughtto be demanded and whatcanbe supplied. A child demands the moon, and, the supply not being in this case equal to the demand, is wisely accommodated with a rattle; a footpad demands your purse, and is supplied according to the less or more rational economy of the State, with that or a halter; a foolish nation, not able to get into its head that free trade does indeed mean the removal of taxation from its imports, but not of supervision from them, demands unlimited foreign beef, and is supplied with the cattle murrain and the like. There may be all manner of demands, all manner of supplies. The true political economist regulates these; the false political economistleaves them to be regulated by (not Divine) Providence. For, indeed, the largest final demand anywhere reported of, is that of hell; and the supply of it (by the broad gauge line) would be very nearly equal to the demand at this day, unless there were here and there a swineherd or two who could keep his pigs out of sight of the lake.
Thus in this business of servants everything depends on what sort of servant you at heart wish for or "demand." If for nurses you want Charlotte Winsors, they are to be had for money; but by no means for money, such as that German girl who, the other day, on her own scarce-floating fragment of wreck, saved the abandoned child of another woman, keeping it alive by the moisture from her lips. What kind of servant do you want? It is a momentous question for you yourself—for the nation itself. Are we to be a nation of shopkeepers, wanting only shop-boys: or of manufacturers, wanting only hands: or are there to be knights among us, who will need squires—captains among us, needing crews? Will you have clansmen for your candlesticks, or silver plate? Myrmidons at your tents, ant-born, or only a mob on the Gillies' Hill? Are you resolved that you will never have any but your inferiors to serve you, or shall Enid ever lay your trencher with tender little thumb, and Cinderella sweep your hearth, and be cherished there? Itmightcome to that in time, and plate and hearth be the brighter; but if your servants are to be held your inferiors, at least be sure theyareso, and that you are indeed wiser, and better-tempered, and more useful than they. Determine what their education ought to be, and organize proper servants' schools, and there give it them. So they will be fit for their position, and will do honour to it, and stay in it: let the masters be as sure they do honour to theirs, and are aswilling to stay in that. Remember that every people which gives itself to the pursuit of riches, invariably, and of necessity, gets the scum uppermost in time, and is set by the genii, like the ugly bridegroom in the Arabian Nights, at its own door with its heels in the air, showing its shoe-soles instead of a Face. And the reversal is a serious matter, if reversal be even possible, and it comes right end uppermost again, instead of to conclusive Wrong-end.
The author ofTreasure Island(invariably known to his friends simply as "Louis," the "Robert" being reserved in the form of "Bob" for his less famous but very admirable cousin the art-critic) will perhaps offer to some Matthew Arnold of posterity the opportunity of a paradox like that of our Matthew on Shelley. For a short time some of these friends—not perhaps the wisest of them—were inclined to regard him as, and to urge him to continue to be, a writer of criticisms and miscellaneous articles—a sort of new Hazlitt. Others no sooner saw theNew Arabian Nightsthan they recognised a tale-teller such as had not been seen for a long time—such as, in respect of anything imitable, had never been seen before. And he fortunately fell in with these views and hopes. But all his tales are pure Romance, and Romance has her eclipses with the vulgar. On the other hand his letters are almost as good as his fiction, and not in the least open to the charges of a certain non-naturalness of style—even of thought—which could, justly or not, be brought against his other writings. And it is perhaps worth noting here that letters have held their popularity with all fit judges almost better than any other division of literature. Whether this is the effect of their "touches of nature" (using the famous phrase without the blunder so common in regard to it but not without reference to its context) need not be discussed.As, by the kindness of Mr. Lloyd Osbourne, I am enabled to give here an unpublished letter of Stevenson's to myself, it may require some explanation, not only of the commentatory and commendatory kind but of fact. Stevenson, coming to dine with me, had brought with him, and showed with much pride, a new umbrella (a seven-and-sixpenny one) which, to my surprise, he had bought. But when he went away that night he forgot it; and when I met him next day at the Savile and suggested that I should send it to him, there or somewhere, he said he was going abroad almost immediately and begged me to keep it for him. By this or that accident, but chiefly owing to his constant expatriations, no opportunity of restitution ever occurred: though I used to remind him of it as a standing joke, and treasured it religiously, stored and unused. This letter is partly in answer to a last reminder in which I said that I was going to present it to the nation, that it might be kept with King Koffee Kalcalli's, but as a memory of a "victor in romance" not of a vanquished enemy.I of course told Mr. Kipling of the contents which concerned him: and he, equally of course, demanded delivery of the goods at once. But, half in joke, I demurred, saying that I was a bailee, and the gift was not formal enough, being undated and only a "suggestion"; he should have it without fail at my death, or Stevenson's.[130]When alas! this latter came, I prepared to act up to my promise; but, alas! again, the umbrella had vanished! Some prated of mislaying in house-removal, of illicit use by servants, etc.; but for my part I had and have no doubt that the thing had been enskyed and constellated—like Ariadne's Crown, Berenice's Locks, Cassiopeia's Chair, and a whole galaxy of other now celestial objects—to afford a special place to my dead friend then, and to my live one when (may the time still be far distant) he is ready for it.As for the more serious subject of the letter, I must refer curious readers to an essay of mine on Lockhart, originally published in 1884 and reprinted inEssays in EnglishLiteraturesome years later. To this reprint I subjoined,beforeI got this letter from R. L. S., a reasoned defence of Lockhart from the charge of cowardice and "caddishness": but it is evident that Stevenson had not yet seen it. When he did see it, he wrote me another letter chiefly about my book itself, and so of no interest to the public, but touching again on this Lockhart question. He avowed himself still dissatisfied: but said he was sorry for his original remark which was "ungracious and unhandsome" if not untrue, adding, "for to whom do I owe more pleasure than to Lockhart?"
The author ofTreasure Island(invariably known to his friends simply as "Louis," the "Robert" being reserved in the form of "Bob" for his less famous but very admirable cousin the art-critic) will perhaps offer to some Matthew Arnold of posterity the opportunity of a paradox like that of our Matthew on Shelley. For a short time some of these friends—not perhaps the wisest of them—were inclined to regard him as, and to urge him to continue to be, a writer of criticisms and miscellaneous articles—a sort of new Hazlitt. Others no sooner saw theNew Arabian Nightsthan they recognised a tale-teller such as had not been seen for a long time—such as, in respect of anything imitable, had never been seen before. And he fortunately fell in with these views and hopes. But all his tales are pure Romance, and Romance has her eclipses with the vulgar. On the other hand his letters are almost as good as his fiction, and not in the least open to the charges of a certain non-naturalness of style—even of thought—which could, justly or not, be brought against his other writings. And it is perhaps worth noting here that letters have held their popularity with all fit judges almost better than any other division of literature. Whether this is the effect of their "touches of nature" (using the famous phrase without the blunder so common in regard to it but not without reference to its context) need not be discussed.
As, by the kindness of Mr. Lloyd Osbourne, I am enabled to give here an unpublished letter of Stevenson's to myself, it may require some explanation, not only of the commentatory and commendatory kind but of fact. Stevenson, coming to dine with me, had brought with him, and showed with much pride, a new umbrella (a seven-and-sixpenny one) which, to my surprise, he had bought. But when he went away that night he forgot it; and when I met him next day at the Savile and suggested that I should send it to him, there or somewhere, he said he was going abroad almost immediately and begged me to keep it for him. By this or that accident, but chiefly owing to his constant expatriations, no opportunity of restitution ever occurred: though I used to remind him of it as a standing joke, and treasured it religiously, stored and unused. This letter is partly in answer to a last reminder in which I said that I was going to present it to the nation, that it might be kept with King Koffee Kalcalli's, but as a memory of a "victor in romance" not of a vanquished enemy.
I of course told Mr. Kipling of the contents which concerned him: and he, equally of course, demanded delivery of the goods at once. But, half in joke, I demurred, saying that I was a bailee, and the gift was not formal enough, being undated and only a "suggestion"; he should have it without fail at my death, or Stevenson's.[130]
When alas! this latter came, I prepared to act up to my promise; but, alas! again, the umbrella had vanished! Some prated of mislaying in house-removal, of illicit use by servants, etc.; but for my part I had and have no doubt that the thing had been enskyed and constellated—like Ariadne's Crown, Berenice's Locks, Cassiopeia's Chair, and a whole galaxy of other now celestial objects—to afford a special place to my dead friend then, and to my live one when (may the time still be far distant) he is ready for it.
As for the more serious subject of the letter, I must refer curious readers to an essay of mine on Lockhart, originally published in 1884 and reprinted inEssays in EnglishLiteraturesome years later. To this reprint I subjoined,beforeI got this letter from R. L. S., a reasoned defence of Lockhart from the charge of cowardice and "caddishness": but it is evident that Stevenson had not yet seen it. When he did see it, he wrote me another letter chiefly about my book itself, and so of no interest to the public, but touching again on this Lockhart question. He avowed himself still dissatisfied: but said he was sorry for his original remark which was "ungracious and unhandsome" if not untrue, adding, "for to whom do I owe more pleasure than to Lockhart?"
54.
My dear Saintsbury,
Thanks for yours. Why did I call Lockhart a cad? That calls for an answer, and I give it. "Scorpion"[131]literature seems at the best no very fit employment for a man of genius, which Lockhart was—and none at all for a gentleman. But if a man goes in for such a trade, he must be ready for the consequences; and I do not conceive a gentleman as a coward; the white feather is not his crest, italmostexcludes—and I put the "almost" with reluctance. Well, now about the duel? Even Bel-Ami[132]turned up on theterrain. But Lockhart?Et responsum est ab omnibus, Non est inventus.[133]I have often wondered how Scott took that episode.[134]Ido not know how this view will strike you;[135]it seems to me the "good old honest" fashion of our fathers, though I own it does not agree with the New Morality. "Cad" may be perhaps an expression too vivacious and not well chosen; it is, at least upon my view, substantially just.
Now if you mean to comb my wig, comb it from the right parting—I know you will comb it well.
An infinitely small jest occurs to me in connection with the historic umbrella: and perhaps its infinite smallness attracts me. Would you mind handing it to Rudyard Kipling with the enclosed note?[136]It seems to me fitly to consecrate and commemorate this most absurd episode.
Yours very sincerely,
Robert Louis Stevenson.
[Enclosure]
This Umbrellapurchased in the year 1878 byRobert Louis Stevenson(and faithfully stabled for more than twelve years in thehalls of George Saintsbury)is now handed on at the suggestion of the first andby the loyal hands of the second,toRudyard Kipling.
PRINTED IN GREAT BRITAIN BY ROBERT MACLEHOSE AND CO. LTD.THE UNIVERSITY PRESS, GLASGOW.
FOOTNOTES:[130]Of thismoratoriumI believe I duly advised R. L. S. and I don't think he objected. There was, if I remember rightly, a further reason for it—that I was living in two places at the time and the subject was not immediately at hand.[131]Lockhart's (self-given) name in the "Chaldee MS." was "the Scorpion that delighteth to sting the faces of men."[132]Maupassant's ineffable hero and title-giver.[133]Hardly any school-boy of my or Stevenson's generation would have needed a reference to theEssay on Murder. But I am told that De Quincey has gone out of fashion, with school-boys and others.[134]We know now: also what "The Duke" said when consulted. They did not agree with Stevenson, but then they knew all the facts and he did not.[135]I should have held it myself, if the facts had been what R. L. S. thought them.[136]Which of course is Mr. Kipling's property, not mine. But he has most kindly joined in, authorising its publication, and that of the rest of the letter as far as he is concerned.
[130]Of thismoratoriumI believe I duly advised R. L. S. and I don't think he objected. There was, if I remember rightly, a further reason for it—that I was living in two places at the time and the subject was not immediately at hand.
[130]Of thismoratoriumI believe I duly advised R. L. S. and I don't think he objected. There was, if I remember rightly, a further reason for it—that I was living in two places at the time and the subject was not immediately at hand.
[131]Lockhart's (self-given) name in the "Chaldee MS." was "the Scorpion that delighteth to sting the faces of men."
[131]Lockhart's (self-given) name in the "Chaldee MS." was "the Scorpion that delighteth to sting the faces of men."
[132]Maupassant's ineffable hero and title-giver.
[132]Maupassant's ineffable hero and title-giver.
[133]Hardly any school-boy of my or Stevenson's generation would have needed a reference to theEssay on Murder. But I am told that De Quincey has gone out of fashion, with school-boys and others.
[133]Hardly any school-boy of my or Stevenson's generation would have needed a reference to theEssay on Murder. But I am told that De Quincey has gone out of fashion, with school-boys and others.
[134]We know now: also what "The Duke" said when consulted. They did not agree with Stevenson, but then they knew all the facts and he did not.
[134]We know now: also what "The Duke" said when consulted. They did not agree with Stevenson, but then they knew all the facts and he did not.
[135]I should have held it myself, if the facts had been what R. L. S. thought them.
[135]I should have held it myself, if the facts had been what R. L. S. thought them.
[136]Which of course is Mr. Kipling's property, not mine. But he has most kindly joined in, authorising its publication, and that of the rest of the letter as far as he is concerned.
[136]Which of course is Mr. Kipling's property, not mine. But he has most kindly joined in, authorising its publication, and that of the rest of the letter as far as he is concerned.
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"No one living," according to theTimes, "knows English eighteenth century literature as well as Mr. Saintsbury knows it.... If you do not know and like your eighteenth century, then he will make you; and if you do, he will show you that even what you thought the dullest parts are full of rest and refreshment."In the opinion of theSpectator, "Mr. Saintsbury in his new book has given to the world a singularly delightful gift.The Peace of the Augustansis in no sense written down. Yet every page is so subtly seasoned with amusing comment, and the whole book is so charmingly garnished that none but a dullard could fail to find delight in its perusal, however little he knew of the spirit which animated the eighteenth century. One can hardly imagine better reading after a day of hard or uncongenial work.""No bush is necessary to proclaim where good wine may be had," says theGlasgow Herald, "and no author's name was required to indicate the source of this always fresh and in some respects original treatment of the Augustan literature.... In literature there are many mansions, and Mr. Saintsbury is at home in them all.... A book it has been very pleasant and very profitable to read."
"No one living," according to theTimes, "knows English eighteenth century literature as well as Mr. Saintsbury knows it.... If you do not know and like your eighteenth century, then he will make you; and if you do, he will show you that even what you thought the dullest parts are full of rest and refreshment."
In the opinion of theSpectator, "Mr. Saintsbury in his new book has given to the world a singularly delightful gift.The Peace of the Augustansis in no sense written down. Yet every page is so subtly seasoned with amusing comment, and the whole book is so charmingly garnished that none but a dullard could fail to find delight in its perusal, however little he knew of the spirit which animated the eighteenth century. One can hardly imagine better reading after a day of hard or uncongenial work."
"No bush is necessary to proclaim where good wine may be had," says theGlasgow Herald, "and no author's name was required to indicate the source of this always fresh and in some respects original treatment of the Augustan literature.... In literature there are many mansions, and Mr. Saintsbury is at home in them all.... A book it has been very pleasant and very profitable to read."
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THE AGE OF CHAUCER(1346-1400). ByF. J. Snell, M.A., with an Introduction byProfessor Hales.Third edition.
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Transcriber's NotesPage108: full stop inserted after "Duke of Burgundy"Page125: Second opening parenthesis from before "Cambridge University Press" removedPage245: Removed closing parenthesis following "the Valley of the Shadow of Frederick"Page260: "sunday"sicGenerally spelling, capitalization and punctuation in letters has been retained as per the book, with the following exceptions:Page305: Removed closing quote marks following "terrain" (Letter 54)
Page108: full stop inserted after "Duke of Burgundy"
Page125: Second opening parenthesis from before "Cambridge University Press" removed
Page245: Removed closing parenthesis following "the Valley of the Shadow of Frederick"
Page260: "sunday"sic
Generally spelling, capitalization and punctuation in letters has been retained as per the book, with the following exceptions:
Page305: Removed closing quote marks following "terrain" (Letter 54)