Lamb House, Rye. Oct. 13, 1899.
_To Sidney Colvin._
The following refers to R. L. Stevenson's _Letters to his Family
and Friends_, edited by Sir Sidney Colvin. H. J.'s article appeared
in the _North American Review_, January 1900, and was afterwards
reprinted in _Notes on Novelists_.
Lamb House, Rye.
Wednesday night.
[October 1899.]
My dear Colvin,
Many things hindered my quietly and immediately reabsorbing the
continuity of the two gathered volumes, and I have delayed till this the
acknowledgment of your letter (sent a few days after them,) I having
already written (hadn't I?) before the letter arrived. I have spent much
of the last two days with them--beautifully and sadly enough. I think
you need have no doubt as to the impression the constituted book will
make--it will be one of extraordinarily rare, particular and individual
beauty. I want to write about it really critically, if I can--i.e.
intelligently and interpretatively--but I sigh before the difficulty.
Still, I shall probably try. One thing it seems to me I foresee--i.e. a
demand for _more_ letters. There _are_ more publishable?--aren't there?
But you will tell me of this. How extraordinarily fine the long (almost
last of all) one to his cousin Bob! If there were only more _de cette
force_! But there couldn't be. "I _think_ I think" the impression more
_equal_ than you do--indeed some of the early ones better than the
earlier ones after expatriation. But the whole series reek with charm
and hum with genius. It will serve as a _high_ memorial--by which I mean
as a large (comprehensive) one. Remember that I shall be delighted to
see you on the 18th. I _may_ be alone--or Jon Sturges may be here.
Probably nessun' altro. Please communicate your decision as to this at
your convenience. If not _then_, then on one of the next Saturdays, I
hope!
What horridly overdarkening S. African news! One must sit close--but for
too long.
Yours ever,
HENRY JAMES.
P.S. Re-reading your letter makes me feel I haven't perhaps answered
enough your query about early vol. I. I don't, however, see what you
need be uneasy about. The young flame of life and agitation of genius in
them flickers and heaves only to make one regret whatever (more) is
_not_ there: _never_ to make one feel your discretion has anywhere been
at fault. I'm not sure I don't think it has erred a little on the side
of over-suppression. One has the vague sense of omissions and
truncations--one _smells_ the things unprinted. However, that doubtless
had to be. But I don't see _any_ mistake you have made. With less, there
would have been no history--and one wants what made, what makes for his
history. It _all_ does--and so would more. But you have given nothing
that valuably doesn't. Be at peace.