IX

In 1918 Teixeira’s health had so much improved that he was able to dispense with all violent and disabling cures.

This was the period when he was, socially, in greatest request. I introduced him, in the spring, to Mr. and Mrs. Asquith, who shewed him much hospitality and great kindness from this time until his death. His leaves were now usually spent with them at Sutton Courtney; but, since he required to take little or no sick-leave, the number of letters exchanged in this year is small.

At the armistice, he left the Intelligence Section to become secretary to the department; and, though we worked in the same building for two or three months more, I naturally saw less of him than when we shared the same table. The last communication that passed between us as colleagues, like the first, written three years before, contained an invitation. Its form must be explained by reference to Stevenson’s and Osborne’sWrongBox. Rudyard Kipling has mentioned, inA Diversity of Creatures, the sublime brotherhood to whom this book is a second Bible.

“I remembered,” [he writes inThe Vortex], “a certain Joseph Finsbury who delighted the Tregonwell Arms ... with nine ... versions of a single income of two hundred pounds, placing the imaginary person in—but I could not recall the list of towns further than ‘London, Paris, Bagdad, and Spitzbergen.’ This last I must have murmured aloud, for the Agent-General suddenly became human and went on: ‘Bussoran, Heligoland, and the Scilly Islands’—‘What?’ growled Penfentenyou. ‘Nothing,’ said the Agent-General, squeezing my hand affectionately. ‘Only we have just found out that we are brothers.... I’ve got it. Brighton, Cincinnati and Nijni-Novgorod!’ God blessR. L. S.[7]...” One of the greatest living authorities onThe Wrong Boxwas a member of the Reform Club; and, on joining, Teixeira found it necessary to his self-protection to study the most aptly-quoted work in the world.My invitation was couched in the cryptic terms of the brotherhood:MATTOS. Alexander William de Bent Teixeira, if this should meet the eye of, he will hear something to his advantage by lunching with me to-day at the far end of Waterloo Station (Departure Platform) or even at Lincoln’s Inn.War Trade Intelligence Department.30 December, 1918.

My invitation was couched in the cryptic terms of the brotherhood:

MATTOS. Alexander William de Bent Teixeira, if this should meet the eye of, he will hear something to his advantage by lunching with me to-day at the far end of Waterloo Station (Departure Platform) or even at Lincoln’s Inn.War Trade Intelligence Department.30 December, 1918.

War Trade Intelligence Department.

30 December, 1918.

On leaving the department early in 1919, I saw and heard little of Teixeira until he invited me to collaborate in the translation ofThe Tour. Occasional divergencies of opinion about translating Latin words in the English rendering of a Dutch novel had the very desirable result of making Teixeira set out some few of the principles which he followed.

Couperus sends me this postcard,he writes, 29.4.18:“Amice,“You are of course at liberty to act according to your taste and judgement. I do not however understand the thing: in every novel treating ofantiquity the classical word sometimes gives a nuance to the untranslatable local colour. And every novelist feels this: SeeQuo Vadis, in Jeremiah Curtius’ translation. However, do as you think proper.“Yours,“L. C.”He has us on the hip with his Jeremiah Curtius. And I feel more than ever that you were too drastic in your views and I too weak in yielding to them....We should always guard ourselves against the bees in our bonnets. When I produced Zola’sHeirs of Rabourdin, the stage-manager said his play-actors couldn’t pronounce Monsieur, Madame and Mademoiselle to his liking: might he try how it would sound with Mr., Mrs., and Miss Rabourdin? He tried!If your principle were carried to any length, you would have to call a pagoda a tower, a jinrickshaw a buggy, a café a coffee-house, a gendarme a policeman (i.e. asergent-de-ville), a toga a cloak, a gondola a wherry, an Alpenstock an Alpine stick, a ski a snowshoe: one could go on for ever!Yet I am ever yours,Tex.

Couperus sends me this postcard,he writes, 29.4.18:

“Amice,

“You are of course at liberty to act according to your taste and judgement. I do not however understand the thing: in every novel treating ofantiquity the classical word sometimes gives a nuance to the untranslatable local colour. And every novelist feels this: SeeQuo Vadis, in Jeremiah Curtius’ translation. However, do as you think proper.

“Yours,

“L. C.”

He has us on the hip with his Jeremiah Curtius. And I feel more than ever that you were too drastic in your views and I too weak in yielding to them....

We should always guard ourselves against the bees in our bonnets. When I produced Zola’sHeirs of Rabourdin, the stage-manager said his play-actors couldn’t pronounce Monsieur, Madame and Mademoiselle to his liking: might he try how it would sound with Mr., Mrs., and Miss Rabourdin? He tried!

If your principle were carried to any length, you would have to call a pagoda a tower, a jinrickshaw a buggy, a café a coffee-house, a gendarme a policeman (i.e. asergent-de-ville), a toga a cloak, a gondola a wherry, an Alpenstock an Alpine stick, a ski a snowshoe: one could go on for ever!

Yet I am ever yours,

Tex.

In the spring and summer of 1919 our letters became more frequent. Though Teixeira spent most of his time in his department, I employed the first months of liberation in staying with friends. The translation ofThe Tourwent on apace; and arrangements were made for the English publication ofOld People and the Things That Pass. If he had given his readers no other book by Couperus or by any other writer, he would still have established two reputations with this.

It’s a funny thing,he writes, 21.5.19; 4:57 a.m.; but I find that I can no longer trs. Latin, even with a dictionary. I suppose it’s because I can’t construe it. Would you mind putting a line-and-a-bit of Ovid into English for me? Here it is:Materian superabat opus, nam Mulciber illicÆquora celarat.... My intentions are to go down to I. for 5 or 6 days on the 5th of June and to join my wife at Bexhill on or about the 18th for 3 or 4 weeks.“Bexhill-on-SeaIs the haven for me,”sang Clement Scott in a visitors’-book discovered by Max Beerbohm, who tore him to pieces for it in theSaturday, in an article signed “Max.” Scott, pretending not to know who Max was, flew to theEraand wrote his famous absurdity, “Come out of your hole, rat!” Gad, how we used to laugh in those days!...

Materian superabat opus, nam Mulciber illicÆquora celarat.

Materian superabat opus, nam Mulciber illic

Æquora celarat.

... My intentions are to go down to I. for 5 or 6 days on the 5th of June and to join my wife at Bexhill on or about the 18th for 3 or 4 weeks.

“Bexhill-on-SeaIs the haven for me,”

“Bexhill-on-Sea

Is the haven for me,”

sang Clement Scott in a visitors’-book discovered by Max Beerbohm, who tore him to pieces for it in theSaturday, in an article signed “Max.” Scott, pretending not to know who Max was, flew to theEraand wrote his famous absurdity, “Come out of your hole, rat!” Gad, how we used to laugh in those days!...

My reply began:

I resent your practice of heading your letters with the unseemly time at which you leave a warm and comfortable bed.And I dated my own: 22 May, 1919. Cocktail-time. What would you think of me if I headed my letters with the equally unseemly time at which I sometimes go to bed? I have been working so late one or two nights last week and this that the times would coincide, and you might bid me good-morning as I bade you good-night....I went ... to a musical party.... I felt that it was incumbent upon me to see whether you had done anything in the matter of the Belgian quartette.[8]You will be shocked to hear that the quartette is not only still in existence, buthas added a supernumerary to turn over the music of the pianist....

I went ... to a musical party.... I felt that it was incumbent upon me to see whether you had done anything in the matter of the Belgian quartette.[8]You will be shocked to hear that the quartette is not only still in existence, buthas added a supernumerary to turn over the music of the pianist....

On 7.6.19, he wrote from Somersetshire: You are—it is borne in upon me that you must be—a secret autograph-hunter. Here am I, hoping to do nothing but sleep 26 hours out of the 24, to do nothing ever, to the great ever; and here come you, hoping for a letter, lest you be pained. A scripsomaniac, my poor Stephen, a scripsomaniac you will surely be, if you do not check yourself in time.Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes! I know that I am Satan rebuking sin; but was Satan ever better employed? Far rather would I see him rebuking sin than prompting letters for idle hands to write.Well, I know that I am staying in Somersetshire with I., who is at this moment speeding towards the Hôtel du Vieux Doelen at the Hague, to nurse a sick friend. Ker pongsay voo der sah? And I am happy as the day is long, petted and coddled by his delightful mother, lolling from the morning unto the evening in the open air and doing not one stroke of work. And utterly at my ease, not even blushing when my brother cuckoo mocks me from the tree-top, as he does sixty times to the minute.I return on the 12th; on the 13th I go cuckooing at the Wharf, returning on the 16th; ... on the 18th I join my wife at Bexhill; how, I ask you, can I come a-cuckooing in Lincoln’s Inn?Nor do see any chance of touchingThe Tourwhile I am here. I am really too busy to do aught but play the sedulous cuckoo in Cockayne. So let my visit to you be a pleasure (to both of us) postponed....

Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes! I know that I am Satan rebuking sin; but was Satan ever better employed? Far rather would I see him rebuking sin than prompting letters for idle hands to write.

Well, I know that I am staying in Somersetshire with I., who is at this moment speeding towards the Hôtel du Vieux Doelen at the Hague, to nurse a sick friend. Ker pongsay voo der sah? And I am happy as the day is long, petted and coddled by his delightful mother, lolling from the morning unto the evening in the open air and doing not one stroke of work. And utterly at my ease, not even blushing when my brother cuckoo mocks me from the tree-top, as he does sixty times to the minute.

I return on the 12th; on the 13th I go cuckooing at the Wharf, returning on the 16th; ... on the 18th I join my wife at Bexhill; how, I ask you, can I come a-cuckooing in Lincoln’s Inn?

Nor do see any chance of touchingThe Tourwhile I am here. I am really too busy to do aught but play the sedulous cuckoo in Cockayne. So let my visit to you be a pleasure (to both of us) postponed....

To this I replied, 14.7.19: I lunched yesterday with one Butterworth, who is opening up a publisher’s business. In the course of conversation I mentioned to him your translation ofOld People and the Things that Pass. More than that, I took upon myself to lend him my copy of the American edition so that he might have an opportunity of forming his own opinion of it. You may, if you like, call me interfering and presumptuous, but I have not committed you in any way to anything, and yesterday’s transaction may be regarded as no more than the loan of a book from one person to another. I, as you know, feel it a reproach that that book is still unpublished in England, and, if Butterworth thinks fit to make you a good offer, no one will be better pleased than me....

On 26.7.19 he wrote from Bexhill: If it comes on to rain as it threatens daily, I shall be returningThe Tourto you quite soon; and in any case it will go back to you before I leave here on the 15th of July: I must reduce the weight of my luggage; I had to run all over the town to find two stalwart ruffians to carry it to the attic where I sleep.You need not look at it before we meet unless you wish; but you may like to do Cora’s song[9]in your sleep meanwhile; and my additional comments and queries are few.I am leading here that methodical humdrum life which alone makes time fly. When I return to town you shall see me occasionally at the opera, but not oftener than twice a week. You will have to look for me, however, for I shall be stalking behind pillars, cloaked in black, like Lucien de What’s-his-name, hiding from my black beast, Lady....P.S. Can you tell me if Beecham intends to do any light operas at Drury Lane in addition to that tinkly, overratedFille de Madame Angot? I am dying to hear the whole Offenbach series before I die.

You need not look at it before we meet unless you wish; but you may like to do Cora’s song[9]in your sleep meanwhile; and my additional comments and queries are few.

I am leading here that methodical humdrum life which alone makes time fly. When I return to town you shall see me occasionally at the opera, but not oftener than twice a week. You will have to look for me, however, for I shall be stalking behind pillars, cloaked in black, like Lucien de What’s-his-name, hiding from my black beast, Lady....

P.S. Can you tell me if Beecham intends to do any light operas at Drury Lane in addition to that tinkly, overratedFille de Madame Angot? I am dying to hear the whole Offenbach series before I die.

A letter from Bexhill, dated 2.7.19,touches on one general principle of translating:

... With all deference, a translator’s first duty is not to translate. His first duty is to love God, honour the king and hate the Germans. His next duty is to produce a version corresponding as near as may be with what an English original writer, if he were writing that particular book, would set down. His last duty is to translate every blessed word of the original....

Next day he wrote:

T. B. [Thornton Butterworth]is taking “O. P.”[Old People]and coming down here to see me on Saturday.Ever so many thanks for your generous offices in the matter....

T. B. [Thornton Butterworth]is taking “O. P.”[Old People]and coming down here to see me on Saturday.

Ever so many thanks for your generous offices in the matter....

On Peace Day, in a letter dated from Finsbury Circus, Teixeira writes:

Here sit I, putting in four or five hours before a train leaves to take me to Herbert George and Jane Wells at Easton Glebe and readingQuo Vadis. Already, in 99 pages, I have discovered 21 expressions which you would undoubtedly have condemned inThe Tour.... This is interesting:[the author]says that in Nero’s day it was already becoming a stunt among the Romans to call the gods by their Greek Names. Tiberius was not so much earlier—was he?—than Nero that the practice might not have begun even then. If so, we can let Couperus have his way and retain those few names. They are very few, I think. I can remember at the moment only Aphrodite and Zeus and possibly Eros. It may be that Juno is mentioned as Hera, but I doubt it.There is a charming garden, with a most beautifully kept lawn. The flowers ... consist entirely of the only three that I dislike: fuchsias, begonias and red geraniums.Still ...I hope that you are spending the day as peacefully and that this will find you well and happy....Two east-end Jews within hail of me are talking Yiddish and sharing a Daily Snail between them. There is a cat. There is or am I. And there are those fuchsias.

... This is interesting:[the author]says that in Nero’s day it was already becoming a stunt among the Romans to call the gods by their Greek Names. Tiberius was not so much earlier—was he?—than Nero that the practice might not have begun even then. If so, we can let Couperus have his way and retain those few names. They are very few, I think. I can remember at the moment only Aphrodite and Zeus and possibly Eros. It may be that Juno is mentioned as Hera, but I doubt it.

There is a charming garden, with a most beautifully kept lawn. The flowers ... consist entirely of the only three that I dislike: fuchsias, begonias and red geraniums.

Still ...

I hope that you are spending the day as peacefully and that this will find you well and happy....

Two east-end Jews within hail of me are talking Yiddish and sharing a Daily Snail between them. There is a cat. There is or am I. And there are those fuchsias.

On 18.8.19, I wrote:

The North of Ireland seems beating up for a storm, does not it? I suppose there is no point in my reminding you that a perfect gentlemanwould not fail to present himself at Euston next Friday at 8.10 p.m. to tuck me into my sleeper and see me safely off? My address in Ireland from Aug. 23rd to 31st is (in the care of Sir John Leslie, Baronet) Glaslough, Co. Monaghan....

At 8.10 on Friday,he replied, 20.8.19, this perfect gentleman will be eating his melon at Huntercombe Manor House, Henley-on-Thames (in the care of Squire Nevile Foster), but for which he would undoubtedly come to see you oft in the stilly night. I wish you safely through the war-zone, happy and interested in this, your first visit to Ireland and prosperously home again. Now do not write and answer that you have paid eighteen visits to Ireland before: those eighteen visits have always been and always will be to my mind as mythical as the travels of Mungo Park or Mendes Pinto....

Feeling that I must acquaint Teixeira with my safe arrival in Ireland, I wrote, 28.8.19:

Glaslough, Co. Monaghan.... I am here; yes, but how did I get here? I am here; yes, but shall I ever get away? I left London on Friday with my young and very lovely charge, encountered engine-trouble and reached Holyhead an hour late. I sat on theboat-deck with her (but without an overcoat), watching the dawn until I was chilled to the marrow and any other man would have been delirious with pneumonia. The breakfast-car train had left, so we took a later one from Dublin. Being faced with the prospect of waiting 2½ hours at Clones, I got out at Drogheda to send a telegram to the Leslies, begging them to meet us there by car. Unhappily, the train went on without me, bearing away my young and very lovely charge, my suit-case, my despatch-box, my umbrella and my hat. I was left with a pair of gloves and my charge’s ticket.... I bought myself a cap of 4/6 and a clean collar for /4d, and spent the day writing letters, contriving epigrams and lunching off scrambled eggs and Irish whiskey.I have been taken to the McKenna grave at Donagh and presented—by Shane—to the clan as its head, which I am not. The recognition of Odysseus by his old nurse was eclipsed by the recognition accorded me by an old woman who remembered—unprompted—my coming to Glaslough twelve years ago and thanked God that she had been spared to see me again. It is a very lovely place that the Leslies have taken from us.But how to leave it? It is Horse Show week, and every sleeper has been booked for threeweeks. I shall have to cross from Belfast to Liverpool, I think, and try to get my sleeping done on the boat. And that means that I shall not be home till Tuesday. Can’t be helped.

Glaslough, Co. Monaghan.

... I am here; yes, but how did I get here? I am here; yes, but shall I ever get away? I left London on Friday with my young and very lovely charge, encountered engine-trouble and reached Holyhead an hour late. I sat on theboat-deck with her (but without an overcoat), watching the dawn until I was chilled to the marrow and any other man would have been delirious with pneumonia. The breakfast-car train had left, so we took a later one from Dublin. Being faced with the prospect of waiting 2½ hours at Clones, I got out at Drogheda to send a telegram to the Leslies, begging them to meet us there by car. Unhappily, the train went on without me, bearing away my young and very lovely charge, my suit-case, my despatch-box, my umbrella and my hat. I was left with a pair of gloves and my charge’s ticket.... I bought myself a cap of 4/6 and a clean collar for /4d, and spent the day writing letters, contriving epigrams and lunching off scrambled eggs and Irish whiskey.

I have been taken to the McKenna grave at Donagh and presented—by Shane—to the clan as its head, which I am not. The recognition of Odysseus by his old nurse was eclipsed by the recognition accorded me by an old woman who remembered—unprompted—my coming to Glaslough twelve years ago and thanked God that she had been spared to see me again. It is a very lovely place that the Leslies have taken from us.

But how to leave it? It is Horse Show week, and every sleeper has been booked for threeweeks. I shall have to cross from Belfast to Liverpool, I think, and try to get my sleeping done on the boat. And that means that I shall not be home till Tuesday. Can’t be helped.

On 31.8.19 Teixeira wrote to greet me on my return from Ireland:

After your preliminary wanderings, my dear Stephen O’Dysseus, welcome home again! You were always the worst courier in the world; I’ve not ever known you to bring one of your young and very lovely charges to her destination without encountering cataclysmal adventures on the road.... Still, would that I had known that you can buy collars, clean and therefore presumably new collars, at Drogheda for fourpence apiece. Yesterday I paid fifteen shillings for a dozen....

On 21.12.19 he writes to offer me good wishes for Christmas:

The one and only thing that the Fortunate Youth appeared to me not to possess will reach you in a little registered packet to-morrow evening.... You are to accept it as a token of the happiness which I wish you during this Christmas and the whole of the coming year.That was a very jolly party on Wednesday: I enjoyed everything: the gay and kindly company, the admirable foodstuffs, even the music; and, if it be true, as I told you, that Covent Garden has shrunk in size since my young days, I am compelled to confess that your box was a larger than I ever saw before.

That was a very jolly party on Wednesday: I enjoyed everything: the gay and kindly company, the admirable foodstuffs, even the music; and, if it be true, as I told you, that Covent Garden has shrunk in size since my young days, I am compelled to confess that your box was a larger than I ever saw before.

At this season of excess,he writes on Christmas Day, I am allowed to indulge my passion for chocolates, but not to buy any for myself; and it was most thoughtful of you to pander to my taste. Thank you ever so much. And thank you also for your good wishes....I must be off to mass, but not without first begging you to hand your mother and sister my best wishes for a happy New Year. As to you, I shall see or talk to you before then.... My young Sinn Feiner has written a novel[10]which to my mind is a most remarkable production and which will have to be read by you at all costs. It is published in Dublin; and it is doubtful whether a single other copy will find its way to this foreign land.

I must be off to mass, but not without first begging you to hand your mother and sister my best wishes for a happy New Year. As to you, I shall see or talk to you before then.... My young Sinn Feiner has written a novel[10]which to my mind is a most remarkable production and which will have to be read by you at all costs. It is published in Dublin; and it is doubtful whether a single other copy will find its way to this foreign land.

In April Teixeira and his wife went to Hove: and on 27.4.20 he writes:

It is blowing what-you-may-call-it here: ’arf a mo’, ’arf a brick, half a gale. Apart from that, we are well and send our love.

Commenting on a house-party which I had described, he adds:

All we can do, my dear Stephen, is to ask you to remember the old adage:Birds of a feather flock together;and the modern variants:Birds of a beak meet twice a week;Birds of a voice share a Rolls-Royce;Birds of a kidney are Alf and Sydney;Birds of a tail are hail-fellow-hail;Birds of a crest are twins of the best;Birds of a gizzard are witch and wizzard;Birds of a chirrup are treacle and syrup;The hawk and the owl sit cheek by jowl.Yours ever,Alexander and Lily Tex.

All we can do, my dear Stephen, is to ask you to remember the old adage:

Birds of a feather flock together;

and the modern variants:

Birds of a beak meet twice a week;Birds of a voice share a Rolls-Royce;Birds of a kidney are Alf and Sydney;Birds of a tail are hail-fellow-hail;Birds of a crest are twins of the best;Birds of a gizzard are witch and wizzard;Birds of a chirrup are treacle and syrup;The hawk and the owl sit cheek by jowl.

Birds of a beak meet twice a week;

Birds of a voice share a Rolls-Royce;

Birds of a kidney are Alf and Sydney;

Birds of a tail are hail-fellow-hail;

Birds of a crest are twins of the best;

Birds of a gizzard are witch and wizzard;

Birds of a chirrup are treacle and syrup;

The hawk and the owl sit cheek by jowl.

Yours ever,Alexander and Lily Tex.

The next letter was from his wife and brought the news that Teixeira’s health had taken an unexpected turn for the worse. His life was not in immediate danger, but henceforward he must regard himself as an invalid and must work under the conditions imposed by his doctor.

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