At Pitlochry, Stevenson was for some weeks in good health and working
order. The inquiries about the later life of Jean Cavalier, the
Protestant leader in the Cevennes, refer to a literary scheme,
whether of romance or history I forget, which had been in his mind
ever since the _Travels with a Donkey_.
_Kinnaird Cottage, Pitlochry, June 6, 1881._
MY DEAR WEG,--Here I am in my native land, being gently blown and hailed
upon, and sitting nearer and nearer to the fire. A cottage near a moor
is soon to receive our human forms; it is also near a burn to which
Professor Blackie (no less!) has written some verses in his hot old age,
and near a farm from whence we shall draw cream and fatness. Should I be
moved to join Blackie, I shall go upon my knees and pray hard against
temptation; although, since the new Version, I do not know the proper
form of words. The swollen, childish, and pedantic vanity that moved the
said revisers to put "bring" for "lead," is a sort of literary fault
that calls for an eternal hell; it may be quite a small place, a star
of the least magnitude, and shabbily furnished; there shall ----, ----,
the revisers of the Bible and other absolutely loathsome literary
lepers, dwell among broken pens, bad, _groundy_ ink and ruled
blotting-paper made in France--all eagerly burning to write, and all
inflicted with incurable aphasia. I should not have thought upon that
torture had I not suffered it in moderation myself, but it is too horrid
even for a hell; let's let 'em off with an eternal toothache.
All this talk is partly to persuade you that I write to you out of good
feeling only, which is not the case. I am a beggar; ask Dobson,
Saintsbury, yourself, and any other of these cheeses who know something
of the eighteenth century, what became of Jean Cavalier between his
coming to England and his death in 1740. Is anything interesting known
about him? Whom did he marry? The happy French, smilingly following one
another in a long procession headed by the loud and empty Napoleon
Peyrat, say, Olympe Dunoyer, Voltaire's old flame. Vacquerie even thinks
that they were rivals, and is very French and very literary and very
silly in his comments. Now I may almost say it consists with my
knowledge that all this has not a shadow to rest upon. It is very odd
and very annoying; I have splendid materials for Cavalier till he comes
to my own country; and there, though he continues to advance in the
service, he becomes entirely invisible to me. Any information about him
will be greatly welcome: I may mention that I know as much as I desire
about the other prophets, Marion, Fage, Cavalier (de Sonne), my
Cavalier's cousin, the unhappy Lions, and the idiotic Mr. Lacy; so if
any erudite starts upon that track, you may choke him off. If you can
find aught for me, or if you will but try, count on my undying
gratitude. Lang's "Library" is very pleasant reading. My book _will_
reach you soon, for I write about it to-day.--Yours ever,