[As usual, dots between square brackets indicate cuts made by Sidney Colvin. For full, correct and critical edition of this letter, see Mehew 4, 1139.]
To Sidney Colvin [Colvin 1911, 2, pp. 183-184]
La Solitude, Hyères [? 19 September 1883]
My dear Colvin,
I have been bad, but as you were worse, I feel no shame. I raise a blooming countenance, not the evidence of a self-righteous spirit.
I continue my uphill fight with the twin spirits of bankruptcy and indigestion. […] Duns rage about my portal, at least to fancy’s ear.
I suppose you heard of Ferrier’s death: my oldest friend, except Bob.
It has much upset me. I did not fancy how much. I am strangely concerned about it.
My house is the loveliest spot in the universe; the moonlight nights we have are incredible;
love, poetry and music, and the Arabian Nights, inhabit just my corner of the world – nest there like mavises.
The […] carcase
Robert Louis Stevenson
An active, austere, and not inelegant
at the termination of a long career,
wealthy, wise, benevolent, and honoured by
the attention of two hemispheres,
yet owned it to have been his crowning favour
(With the consent of the intelligent edility of Hyères, he has been interred, below this frugal stone, in the garden which he honoured for so long with his poetic presence.)
I must write more solemn letters. Adieu. Write. […]