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| author | nfenwick <nfenwick@pglaf.org> | 2025-02-06 10:19:00 -0800 |
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| committer | nfenwick <nfenwick@pglaf.org> | 2025-02-06 10:19:00 -0800 |
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diff --git a/53165-0.txt b/53165-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..7d24d5a --- /dev/null +++ b/53165-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,755 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 53165 *** + +[Illustration: Cover art] + + + + +[Illustration: Robert Louis Stevenson] + + + + +_Painting by W. Hatherell._ + + "Took down the folds of her hair--shook it + round her face and the pool repeated her + thus veiled." + +_Prince Otto._ + +[Illustration: _Prince Otto_] + + + + + A DAY WITH + ROBERT LOUIS + STEVENSON + + + BY MAURICE CLARE + + + + LONDON + HODDER & STOUGHTON + 1910 + + + + + _In the same Series. + Dickens. + Thackeray._ + + + + +A DAY WITH STEVENSON. + + +Supposing that in the month of April, 1886, you had arrived, a guest +foreseen, at the pleasant ivy-muffled dwelling in Bournemouth, which +had recently adopted the name of Skerryvore, and that you had been +permitted to enter its doors--you might account yourself a somewhat +favoured person. For the master of the house, "that rickety and +cloistered spectre," as he termed himself, the "pallid brute who lived +in Skerryvore like a weevil in a biscuit," might be invisible for the +nonce--shut upstairs, forbidden even to speak for fear of inducing +hemorrhage. Or again, you might yourself be afflicted with an obvious +cold: in which case you would not be admitted into his presence, lest +you left contagion of that cold. + +But if fate befriended you, you would chance upon the most remarkable +personality, it might be, that you had yet encountered. A lean, long +flat-chested man, gracefully emphatic of gesture--pacing up and down +the room as he talked--burning with hectic energy--a man of rich brown +tints in hair and eyes and skin: mutable, mirthful, brilliant--above +all "vital," as he had described himself, "wholly vital with a buoyance +of life" which had upborne him hitherto over the crest of most +tumultuous distresses. + +Robert Louis Stevenson was now thirty-six years old: and ever since his +sixth year, when, as his mother recorded in her diary, he dreamed that +he "heard the noise of pens writing," his aim had been set unswervingly +toward the one goal. Born of a strong and strenuous family, the great +lighthouse builders of the north, he was not, like them, intent upon +the subjugation of obstinate stone, the ordering and ordaining of rocks +and seas. Dhu Heartach and the Bell Rock and Skerryvore he could +admire at a distance: but the material which cried aloud to him for +mastery, was much more plastic,--yet, to him, no less stubborn. "I +imagine," he declared, "nobody ever had such pains to learn a trade as +I had; but I slogged at it day in and day out." His fastidious soul +refused to be contented with a facile and slipshod utterance. A +passionate quest: after _le mot propre_, which had led him, in his own +phrase, to "play the sedulus ape" to all the great prose writers of the +past--and a sense of style such as no man had ever so anxiously and +assiduously developed in himself--these had achieved their own reward. +"'Thanks to my dire industry," said Stevenson, "I have done more with +smaller gifts than almost any man of letters in the world." + +And this was a just pride: for there was no branch of literature in +which he could not admirably acquit himself. So many years a struggler +in obscurity, with small hopes, few successes, little +encouragement--battling with continuous and crippling maladies,--this +indomitable artist, by sheer dint of "dire industry," now suddenly +stood forth in full blaze of public recognition. The author of +_Virginibus Puerisque_, _Treasure Island_, _Prince Otto_, _The Child's +Garden of Verse_, and _Dr. Jekyll_, was very much a man to be reckoned +with. + +Probably few modern books have met with such instantaneous and +triumphant success as _Treasure Island_ and _Dr. Jekyll_. The first, +after running its course, unannounced and comparatively unrecognized, +the serial of an obscure author, in _Young Folks' Paper_, was published +in book form,--and Stevenson, like Byron, "awoke to find himself +famous." The honours which he had failed to obtain with all the dainty +humour, all the valiant fatalism, of _Virginibus Puerisque_, had been +accorded without stint to _Treasure Island_. It was a tense and +stimulating piece of pure adventure. The authentic air of the +eighteenth century breathed through every sentence of it: and its fine +flavour of dare-devil romance kindled even sober statesmen, such as Mr. +Gladstone, to a very furore of avidity in devouring its breathless +pages. + +As for _Dr. Jekyll_, that gruesome work--literally the product of a +nightmare--had been quoted in pulpits, discussed in newspapers, read by +everybody,--it had taken the world by storm. Yet Stevenson's head was +not turned by his tardily-won success: with his customary _sang froid_, +he took things as they came, failures and triumphs, and met each alike +with smiling gallantry. + +The motives which had led him into authorship--or rather forced him, +despite all stress and hindrance of froward circumstances,--were as +curiously varied as his own nature; and it was these motives which +still drove him hard and incessantly. To fame he was perhaps not +wholly indifferent. No author sits so austerely aloft as to disdain +popular applause altogether. Yet a born stylist and a conscious +artist, like Stevenson, knew that his most finished work was above and +beyond the appreciation of the general public. For money,--though it +was a necessity of life to him, and although, with all his recent +triumphs, he was not at present earning more than £400 a year,--for +money he did not care, except as a means to an end. "Wealth is only +useful for two things," he said, "a yacht and a string quartet. Except +for these, I hold that £700 a year is as much as a man can possibly +want." Still, in declaring, "I do not write for the public," he added +with engaging candour, "I do write for money, a nobler deity," and +this, to a certain extent was true. It was for money only, no doubt, +that he was now undertaking, against the grain, that "romance of +tushery," _The Black Arrow_, a tale with a mediæval setting in which he +felt himself ill at ease. But "most of all," he allowed, "I write for +myself; not perhaps any more noble, but both more intelligent and +nearer home." + +And that a man in such difficulties of health and finance, and so +precarious a position, should have the courage of his own determined +artistry, was in itself sufficiently remarkable: but the result more +than justified his choice. + +All the morning, Stevenson had been upstairs writing: probably after a +bad night; very likely in what any other man would term a totally unfit +condition. Under any and all circumstances, he continued to write +unflinchingly; racked by coughing, reeling with weakness, with his +right arm in a sling, and his left hand holding the pen,--sitting up in +bed with a clinical thermometer in his mouth; and yet, as he declared, +"I like my life all the same ... I should bear false witness if I did +not declare life happy." ... He was, in his own words, "made for a +contest, and the powers have so willed that my battlefield should be +this dingy, inglorious one of the bed and the physic bottle." + +"To declare life happy," became, in fact, his literary mission,--the +condensed philosophy of his gay, inveterate courage. "I believe that +literature should give joy," was his maxim, "one dank, dispirited word +is harmful,--a crime of _lèse-humanité_." This brave and cheerful +outlook is evident in all his essays,--it is, so to speak, a glorified +and artistic Mark-Tapleyism, all-pervading, unimpugnable, ready to +survive the most malevolent accidents of life, the crowning tragedy of +death itself. And so you find the "chronic sickist," as he termed +himself, still ready, in all but body, for great risks and inspiriting +adventures, and--through a mist of pain--leading forlorn hopes with a +waving sword of flame. You hear him proclaiming that: + +"All who have meant good work with their whole hearts, have done good +work, although they may die before they have the time to sign it. +Every heart that has beat strong and cheerfully has left a hopeful +impulse behind it in the world, and bettered the tradition of mankind. +And even if death catch people, like an open pitfall, and in +mid-career, laying out vast projects, and planning monstrous +foundations, flushed with hope, and their mouths full of boastful +language, they should be at once tripped up and silenced; is there not +something brave and spirited in such a termination? and does not life +go down with a better grace, foaming in full body over a precipice, +than miserable struggling to an end in sandy deltas?" (_Virginibus +Puerisque_.) + +And to him, above all, applied his own triumphant lines, those which he +addressed to W. E. Henley, another writer, a man of like courageous +outlook, who, like himself, "in the fell grip of circumstances, had not +winced nor cried aloud: + + "... Small the pipe; but oh! do thou, + Peak-faced and suffering piper, blow therein + The dirge of heroes dead; and to these sick, + These dying, sound the triumph over death. + Behold! each greatly breathes; each tastes a joy + Unknown before in dying; for each knows + A hero dies with him--though unfulfilled, + Yet conquering truly--and not dies in vain." + + +At present he was engaged upon _Kidnapped_, that admirable piece of +fiction which he had begun, "partly as a lark and partly as a +pot-boiler." It was a relief, after the concentrated horror of _Dr. +Jekyll_, to escape into the Scottish heather-scent and to feel the salt +sea-wind whistling through the cordage of _Kidnapped_. + + +_Painting by W. Hatherell._ + + "She stood on the bulwarks and held on by a + stay, the wind blowing in her petticoats. + +_Catriona._ + +[Illustration: _Catriona_] + + +Stevenson was desirous to "get free of this prison-yard of the +abominably ugly, where I take my daily exercise with my +contemporaries." Possibly he recognised that the amazing popularity of +_Jekyll_ had been due to the morbid attractiveness of its subject, +rather than to its merits of craftsmanship; for, as he had averred, "I +know that good work sometimes hits; but, with my hand on my heart, I +think it is an accident." But now he was at liberty to give play to +his infinite variety upon a true boys' book,--a story to satisfy the +inveterate boyishness of his own heart. "Of the romance of boyhood and +adolescence, it has been said, he is an unsurpassed master ... the +philosophy of life developed in both his essays and romances is that +rather of a gifted boy than a mature man." (J. W. Mackail.) And even +the girls of Stevenson's imagination have been accused of being "boys +in petticoats." The phrase has reason. "I have never admired a girl," +he wrote, and again, "I have never pleased myself with any women of +mine." The other sex remained for him, throughout, a mystery which he +hardly cared to solve,--a sealed book which he was not desirous to +open. "Of the two eternal factors in the destiny of man, warfare and +love," although he allowed that "to love is the great amulet which +makes the world a garden," he preferred to deal almost exclusively with +the warfare. + +And yet one women had played a very important part in Stevenson's life: +and it was practically with his marriage that the tide of his fortunes +had changed. His wife,--"trusty, dusky, vivid, true," was his very +_alter ego_: with "a character" (to quote Mr. Sidney Colvin) "as +strong, interesting, and romantic almost as his own: an inseparable +sharer of all his thoughts, the most shrewd and stimulating of critics: +and in sickness, despite her own precarious health, the most devoted +and most efficient of nurses." To while away the weary hours of +illness, Mrs. Stevenson made up stories to amuse him,--and subsequently +the husband and wife would write them out together. She, with her +"eyes of gold and bramble-dew," was literally all-in-all to him as +companion, helpmate, friend;--and far--how infinitely far!--above the +ideal wife whom he had described so adroitly,--in his bachelor +days,--that woman who should have "a fine touch for the affections," +and who should at least be sufficiently talented to avoid boring her +life-long comrade. The character of the ideal wife, as there +indicated,--apt at gracious compromises, possessor of a cheerful fluent +tongue,--was very obviously set forth by a man who had never yet been +stirred by the sharp throbs of an imperative emotion. And now that +Stevenson realised what love in its depth and breadth might mean, it +held a certain sanctity for him,--he was loth to speak of it, as to +write of it. It was a marvel that had befallen him personally: but for +other people, it might still perhaps, be no more than that gentle +domesticated affection which he had portrayed with such amiable humour. +But there was one point in which he, consciously or unconsciously +insisted, in his _desiderata_ of the female character. + +"It always warms a man," he had declared, "to see a woman brave," and +he saw it daily in his wife. Therefore it came about, that, unversed +in women--as Stevenson unquestionably was, he was able to endow his +heroines with a touch of gallant boyishness, a hint of the heroic--and +if they failed in flesh-and-blood-_vraisemblance_, they had that +"steel-true, blade-straight" quality which he adored in the women he +had chosen. + +You will notice this courageous virtue in all of them, rich and poor; +from _Catriona_, that "tall, pretty, tender figure of a maiden, when, +having assured her father's escape from prison by a bold stratagem, she +arrives a fugitive and an exile at Helvoetsluys, and lands from the +staggering side of the _Rose_ into the little boat below;--when, in +David Balfour's words: + +"I began to think I had made a fool's bargain, that it was merely +impossible Catriona should be got on board to me, and that I stood to +be set ashore in Helvoet all by myself ... But this was to reckon +without the lass's courage ... Up she stood on the bulwarks and held by +a stay, the wind blowing in her petticoats, which made the enterprise +more dangerous, and gave us rather more a view of her stockings than +would be thought genteel in cities"--(_Catriona._) + +to Seraphina in _Prince Otto_, still inherently valorous in that +desperate flight through the forest: where: + +"At length when she was well weary, she came upon a wide and shallow +pool. Stones stood in it, like islands; bulrushes fringed the coast; +the floor was paved with pine needles; and the pines themselves, whose +roots made promontories, looked down silently on their green images. +She crept to the margin and beheld herself with wonder, a hollow and +bright-eyed phantom, in the ruins of her palace robe ... She addressed +herself to make a toilette by that forest mirror, washed herself pure +from all the stains of her adventure, took off her jewels and wrapped +them in her handkerchief, re-arranged the tatters of her dress, and +took down the folds of her hair. She shook it round her face, and the +pool repeated her thus veiled." (_Prince Otto._) + +Clara Huddlestone, in the _Pavilion on the Links_, repeats the same +undauntable note: Olalla is inexorable in moral courage of +renunciation, even the weeping Blanche, in the _Sieur de Malétroit's +Door_, has the mettle of some small creature at bay. + +The charm of Stevenson's heroines is, in short, a cold charm; nor does +he often accord them the assistance of a personal description. But +they are finely tempered, of the best Toledo steel, and owing to their +boyish character, there is no very obvious gap in those novels where +they are conspicuously absent, such as _The Ebb Tide_, _The Wreckers_, +and _The Master of Ballantrae_. In the latter, indeed, there is a +slight "female interest," but a stronger personality in the heroine +must inevitably have changed or coloured the whole course of the book: +and one cannot but detect a certain vacuum, where at least some emotion +might have lifted a haggard head, in the character of Mrs. Henry,--even +in that scene, surcharged with hidden explosive possibilities, when the +author describes how: + +"The Master played upon that little ballad, and upon those who heard +him, like an instrument, and seemed now upon the point of failing, and +now to conquer his distress, so that the words and music seemed to pour +out of his own heart and his own past, and to be aimed directly at Mrs. +Henry.... When it came to an end we all sat silent for a time: he had +chosen the dusk of the afternoon, so that none could see his +neighbour's face: but it seemed as if we held our breathing: only my +old lord cleared his throat. The first to move was the singer, who got +to his feet suddenly and softly, and went and walked softly to and fro +in the low end of the hall." (_The Master of Ballantrae._) + + +But Mrs. Henry plays a very minor part in the marring or making, here, +of two men's lives: it is a rôle of _vis inertiæ_ at best. And, +indeed, when all is said, what shall a petticoat be if not irrelevant, +among the clash of steel and smoke of pistols, in an atmosphere +permeated by Spanish doubloons or illicit piratical treasure? +Stevenson's infallible artistic instinct led him to keep the +adventure-story pendant upon the deeds of men, and the eager mistakes +of boys; and a certain curious penchant for the squalid, the submerged, +the picturesque, brought him by choice into such company as no heroine +should enter--that of Villon, for instance, and John Silver, and +Herrick the cockney vagabond. "The spice of life is battle," he said; +and his life, and his books, were brimful of battles with foes or with +fortune. + + +_Painting by W. Hatherell._ + + "'The words and music seemed to pour out of + his own heart and his own past and to be + aimed directly at Mrs. Henry." + +_Master of Ballantrae._ + +[Illustration: _Master of Ballantrae_] + + +The open-air life which he had perforce abandoned, the joy of physical +strength and hair-breadth 'scape, could still be his by proxy. He +revelled in delineating his ideal man: + +"Being a true lover of living, a fellow with something pushing and +spontaneous in his inside, he must, like any other soldier, in any +other stirring, deadly warfare, push on at his best pace until he touch +the goal. 'A peerage or Westminster Abbey!' cried Nelson in his +bright, boyish, heroic manner. These are great incentives; not for any +of these, but for the plain satisfaction of living, of being about +their business in some sort or other, do the brave, serviceable men of +every nation tread down the nettle danger, and pass flyingly over all +the stumbling-blocks of prudence." (_Virginibus Puerisque._) + + +The tramp of horse-hoofs, the clank of the capstan, the door ajar--a +thousand sights and sounds were but symbolisms to him of some +mysterious by-way of adventure to be followed up, quick with latent +possibilities of romance; and from one word, one name, he could evolve +a whole intricate plot. With the simplest of sentences, he could +electrify the startled reader, as when in _The Wrecker_, where the +desperate castaways sit gambling on the desert island, and one suddenly +cries aloud, "Sail ho!" + +"All turned at the cry,--and there, in the wild light of the morning, +heading straight for Midway Reef, was the brig _Flying Scud_ of Hull." +(_The Wrecker._) + + +On that moment the whole tale hangs as on a pivot. All its involution +and evolution, all its intricate and tangled clues, lead--backwards or +forwards--to this one swift breathless sight. + +His morning's work accomplished, the tall gaunt man came downstairs, +literally to play awhile. After weeks, it might be, of enforced +seclusion in his room, his eye rested pleasurably upon the various +attractive objects which almost seemed like new to him. +Stevenson,--the avowed evader of personal property, the rolling-stone +that had so long refused to gather moss,--was now, under a woman's +tender surveillance, surrounded with charm and comfort. "Our drawing +room," he maintained, "is a place so beautiful that it's like eating to +sit down in it. No other room is so lovely in the world ... I blush +for the figure I cut in such a bower." The garden, Mrs. Stevenson's +special pleasure, but one in which her husband did not share, was very +lovely, with a lawn, and heather-bank, and a half-acre of land, where a +little stream ran down a "chine" full of rhododendrons. A large +dovecot figured in the garden; and there also "Boguey," the Stevensons' +dog, was buried, to whom no other dog had ever been deemed a worthy +successor. + +Stevenson, his clothes hanging loosely on his emaciated figure, and his +hands--"wonderful hands--long and fragile, like those in the early +portraits of Velasquez," lingered lovingly over the keys. For a while +he amused himself by picking out, note by note, the old-world dance +measures of Lully and Rameau; those gavottes, rigadoons and minuets, +which conveyed to him the indefinable _pot-pourri_-like, flavour of his +favourite eighteenth century, embued with a certain stately dignity, +"the periwig feeling," he called it, as of lords and ladies treading +courtly measures. Stevenson was passionately fond of classical music, +but he had never attained to any facility of execution. And when he +grew tired with his efforts as an interpreter of Lully, he turned to +"pickling," as he called it--composing, that is to say, after a +fashion, with "the manly and melodious forefinger." The fact that he +had invariably failed to master the rudiments of theory, in no wise +deterred him; on the contrary, difficulties rather enhanced his +delight. "Books are of no use," he avowed, "they tell you how to write +in four parts, and that cannot be done by man." So he continued to +"pickle" with a light heart, and to enjoy consecutive fifths and other +theoretical delinquencies with an enthusiasm worthy of the most modern +composer. + +Nothing but the lunch hour brought his musical experiments to a close. +Stevenson, who had, in his own words, "been obliged to strip himself, +one after another, of all the pleasures that he had chosen, except +smoking" (and indeed, he was smoking cigarettes all day long) by no +means disdained the pleasures of the table. Not, perhaps, in the role +of a gourmet--but as an artist in the more recondite delicacies of +taste and smell. "To detect the flavour of an olive is no less a piece +of human perfection than to find beauty in the colours of a sunset," he +observed; he coupled the flavour of wine with the beauty of the dawn, +and declared that we do not recognise at its full value the great part +in life that is played by eating and drinking. "There is a romance +about the matter after all," he observed. "Probably the table has more +devotees than love; and I am sure food is more generally entertaining +than scenery." It was the "romance of the matter" that appealed to +him; especially the colour, and savour, and poetical tradition of wine. +"Books, and tobacco jars, and some old Burgundy as red as a November +sunset, and as fragrant as a violet in April"--these, he thought, +should suffice the most luxurious. + +After lunch, if he anticipated an exhausting evening, he went to +sleep--at a moment's notice--and after a short, sound repose, was as +eager as ever to resume his pianoforte amusements; which he continued +until friends arrived. + +At the age of four-and-twenty, Stevenson had noted down his three chief +wishes. "First, good health: secondly, a small competence: thirdly, _O +Du lieber Gott!_ friends." The first: wish was irrevocably denied: the +second was only just beginning to be granted, the guerdon of unresting +toil: the third petition had been abundantly answered. Never was a man +more happy in his friends; or one who made them so instantaneously and +without effort. "He had only to speak," said one friend, "in order to +be recognised in the first minute for a witty and charming gentleman, +and in the second, for a man of genius." Some, indeed, like Mr. Edmund +Gosse, came home dazzled and astounded, saying, as Constance does of +Arthur, "Was ever such a gracious creature born?" His expression, of +mingled tenderness and mirth, his "scholarly and eclectic +presence"--together with his picturesque, velvet-coated appearance, and +his flashing flow of words, combined to make a man so attractive and so +unique as could command all love at will. And the friends were very +many and very notable, who haunted Skerryvore. First and foremost was +"Bob," Mr. R. A. M. Stevenson, the poet's first cousin, the brilliant +art critic: "the man likest and most unlike to me," as R.L.S. described +him. "Bob's" sister, Mrs. de Mattos, and her child were frequent +visitors; then there were celebrities from London: such as Sargent the +painter, William Archer, Sidney Colvin, W. E. Henley, Henry James; and +again friends residing in the neighbourhood of Bournemouth; the poet +Sir Henry Taylor, and his family; Sir Percy Shelley and his wife. +These latter, indeed, regarded Stevenson almost in the light of a son. +He struck them as bearing an extraordinary resemblance to Percy Bysshe +Shelley; less, perhaps, in lineaments than in figure and in mind; and +in consequence of this similarity, they held him very dear. + +But to all he was the same bewildering charming host, the man who +variously displayed, to quote W. E. Henley: + + "A deal of Ariel, just a streak of Puck, + Much Antony, of Hamlet most of all,--" + +And combined with these curiously versatile fruits, "something of the +Shorter Catechist." + +Generous in criticism, kind in praise, grave and humorous in rapid +transition, the amazing scope and variety of Stevenson's writings were +excelled by the scope and variety of his talk. "There was no part of +the writer that was not visibly present in the man." (Graham Balfour.) +He had laid down his opinion that "there can be no fairer ambition than +to excel in talk; to be affable, gay, ready, clear and welcome." But +none save those who were privileged to hear him, as with quick, +impetuous gestures, like a Southern foreigner, he emphasised his +phrases, could realise the power, the versatility, the inexpressible, +irrepressible charm with which the author could fulfil his "fair +ambition." + +When the visitors had severally taken their departure, the strong +resonant voice, with its Scottish accent and rich, full tones still +ringing in their ears,--Stevenson had suffered no abatement in the +stream of his exuberant mental vitality. The excitement of +conversation had, if anything, keyed him up; and presently, for the +writing of a few unavoidable letters, he betook himself to his study; +"the study where a smiling God beholds each day my stage of labour +trod," and sate himself down there with reluctance. + + +_Painting by W. Hatherell._ + + "All turned at the cry, and there in the wild + light of the morning heaving straight for + midway reef was the brig _Flying Scud_ of + Hull." + +_The Wrecker._ + +[Illustration: _The Wrecker_] + + +Correspondence, as a rule, he found but an irksome affair; unless +conducted upon his own whimsical lines. "I deny that letters should +contain news--I mean mine--those of other people should," was his +theory; and he boasted himself of a "willingness to pour forth +unmitigated rot, which constitutes in me the true spirit of +correspondence." For all that, his letters, grave or gay, remain among +the most delightful reading in existence; flavoured with his quaintest +conceits, endowed with his most delicate turns of phrase, and often +tempered with that "something of the Shorter Catechist" to which Henley +had alluded. + +For, undoubtedly, as time went on, although Stevenson continued to +"combine the face of a boy with the distinguished bearing of a man of +the world," he was gradually exchanging the "streak of Puck" and the +capricious unconventions of the born Bohemian, for something graver and +more mature,--a tendency almost towards the didactic. "'Tis a strange +world indeed," he had commented, "but there is a manifest God for those +who care to look for Him." And now, "with the passing of years," he +observed, "there grows more and more upon me that belief in the +kindness of this scheme of things, and the goodness of our veiled God, +which is an excellent and pacifying compensation." He was suffering, +and in all probability would perpetually suffer, from "that sharp +ferule of calamity under which we are all God's scholars till we die": +but his patience was impregnable, and his desire to leave a brave +example bore him constant company. "To suffer," said he, "sets a keen +edge on what remains of the agreeable," and he prepared to enjoy with +equal zest all pleasures which were still permitted to him. + +As he put away his writing materials, and descended once more to his +beloved piano, his father and mother came in. They were living in +Bournemouth to be near their only son. The old lighthouse engineer, +whose father had built the Bell Rock, who had served under his brother +Alan in the building of Skerryvore, "the noblest of all extant +sea-lights," who had himself erected Dhu Heartach, was now palpably +failing. The spectacle of a stern and honest man slowly evacuating all +that he had held of personal strength, was, to his son Louis, a +poignantly pathetic one. Their disagreements had been very many and +deep-rooted, dating from even before that "dreadful evening walk" in +Stevenson's youth, when, "on being tightly cross-questioned," the lad +who had been trained for a civil engineer, and had "worked in a +carpenter's shop and had a brass foundry, and hung about wood-yards and +the like," confessed that he cared for nothing but literature,--"no +profession!" as his father contemptuously replied. They had differed +on almost every conceivable topic open to their discussion,--yet here, +in the fulness of time, they were at peace together,--the austere old +man in his second childhood, and the chronic invalid who "must live as +though he were walking on eggs." Innumerable ineffaceable traits of +similarity bound one to the other; at bottom of all the bygone angers +lay a permanent bedrock of mutual love. And perhaps the nearing vision +of death which terminated all vistas for both of them, exercised its +usual effect, of calm, and _laisser-faire_, and the equalisation of +things: for it is probable that no man has a just sense of +proportionate values until he stands in the presence of death. + +Stevenson had often alluded, as a matter of personal knowledge, to his +constant prescience of mortality, and how it affected a man's thoughts +of life. Very seldom has the view of the confirmed invalid, the doomed +consumptive, been put forth to the world with the frankness with which +Stevenson invested it. He has been sometimes charged with a certain +lack of reticence: but in this matter, unquestionably, his candour was +to the benefitting of mankind: to whom these close views of the +inevitable end are rarely possible under such deliberate and +clear-headed conditions. + +There is nothing maudlin, nothing hypochondriacal, about Stevenson's +treatment of this subject: the same cheerful philosophy bears him up, +the same vitality of joy. It is hardly to be wondered at, that some +critics handled him seriously, on account of his lightheartedness in +the august shadow of the last enemy,--and his inveterate optimism in +the face of all calamities. "He jests at scars who never felt a +wound," they practically told him,--and could hardly be persuaded to +credit the paradox that the man who preached in season and out of +season, the gospel of that "cheery old Pagan, Hope," was not a denizen +of the open-air,--healthy, athletic, vigorous, incapable of realising +the maladies incident to man,--instead of an emaciated, bed-ridden +creature, whose smallest pleasures must be measured, so to speak, in a +medicine-glass. But, "It is something after all," he has said, "to +leave a brave example": and in that he triumphantly succeeded. For the +opportunities of meteoric heroisms are few and far between; but every +hour beholds the need of those obscurer braveries which may be born of +pain and suffering.... + +In _Ordered South_ and other well-known essays, he shows the gradual +relaxation of the ties which bind a man to terrestrial things,--and the +curiously significant alteration in his regard for the facts of +life,--from the sower in the dank spring furrows, to the sight of +little children with their long possibilities before them. + +Stevenson had no children of his own. His stepson, Lloyd Osbourne, +then at school in Bournemouth, was destined to become his friend and +collaborator: but it is doubtful that he cared for children as such. +The average small folk, "dragged about in a pleasing stupor by nurses," +were very far remote from that superabundant vitality nursed in an +attenuated physique, which had sat up with a shawl over its shoulders, +so many tedious months in childhood, when its principal _habitat_ was +"The Land of Counterpane" and other regions mapped out in the great and +glorious world of Make-Believe. + + +_Painting by W. Hatherell._ + +ST. IVES DESCENDS FROM EDINBURGH CASTLE. + + "The whole forces of my mind were so consumed + with losing hold and getting it again, that I + could scarce have told whether I was going up + or coming down." + +_St. Ives._ + +[Illustration: _St. Ives_] + + +For this reason, the _Child's Garden of Verses_ is not, in any real +sense of the word, a child's book at all. It contains the exquisite +imaginations of childhood as the grown-up man remembers them: to him +they have the charm of the vanished past, they are the utterances of +one who has also lived in Arcadia. But to the child, they are the very +commonplaces of existence. To sway to and fro in a swing, "the +pleasantest thing a child can do,"--to bring home treasures from field +and wood, nuts and wooden whistles, and some all-precious +unidentifiable stone, "though father denies it, I'm sure it is +gold,"--these are everyday affairs to the country-child,--just as +watching the lamplighter is to the town child. To read verses about +them is but a waste of time, when one might be actively engaged in +similar avocations. But to the grown-man who can never play with +wooden soldiers in the garden, never be a pirate any more,--these +reminiscences of Stevenson's are a delight unfailing. No one else has +ever worded them quite so accurately, quite so simply: and, taken all +for all, they are in themselves a summing-up of that most excellent +philosophy of this author, "The world is so full of a number of things, +I'm sure we should all be as happy as kings!" The world was indeed +full of a number of things to R.L.S. and,--passed through the crucible +of his own astonishing personality,--they were all, bad or good, +transmogrified into things that make for joy. + +After eight o'clock dinner was over, the old folks bade +good-night,--the father, with touching affection, kissing Louis as +though he were a child, and murmuring, "You'll see me in the morning, +dearie," as if still addressing that little feeble creature who had +been kept alive with such difficulty in the old days at Edinburgh. + +The younger man returned to the piano-forte; it drew him like a magnet. +For a short time he indulged in his desultory music-making, relishing +to the uttermost every success of sound which he achieved: and the +happiness, which was his theory of life, radiated in warm abundance +from his richly-tinted face and glowing eyes. "It's a fine life," he +exclaimed. + +At last the day's supply of energy succumbed before the imperious +demands of this "fiery threadpaper of a man," and in deference to his +wife's suggestion he betook himself to bed. Not necessarily to rest; +for even in his dreams his busy brain was working, and his "Brownies," +as he termed them, bringing him fresh material for plots. _Dr. Jekyll_ +had been thus evolved from three scenes dreamed successively in detail, +from which the dreamer waked with cries of horror. + +But he did not flinch before the coming night, and anything that it +might bring of sickness or unrest. He thought alone upon the past +delightful day, fraught with strenuous work and simple pleasures; and +he petitioned, in his own words: + + "If I have faltered more or less + In my great task of happiness; + If I have moved along my race + And shown no glorious morning face; + If beams from happy human eyes + Have moved me not; if morning skies, + Books, and my food, and summer rain + Knocked on my sullen heart in vain:-- + Lord, Thy most pointed pleasure take + And stab my spirit broad awake!" + (_Underwoods._) + + +His wife hovered around him with gentle ministrations, as suddenly +out-wearied, Robert Louis Stevenson extended his long, lean form to a +possible repose. There was not, perhaps, a cheerfuller man that night +in England. + +The sea hummed at the foot of the chine, with that soft and dove-like +purring of the South-coast sea; the doves made answer with a vibrant +cooing in the middle distance of the twilight garden. Spring buds of +pear-trees and cherry-trees globed themselves stealthily into blossom; +a delicate latent energy was consciously present in the air--the rising +of sap and revivification of seed, all the mysterious hidden progresses +of April. And the man whose ways were set in a perpetual convergence +towards the doors of death, waved, so to speak, a blithe recognition to +the myriad hosts of life. + +"O toiling hands of mortals! O unwearied feet, travelling ye know not +whither! Soon, soon, it seems to you, you must come forth on some +conspicuous hilltop, and but a little way further, against the setting +sun, descry the spires of El Dorado. Little do ye know your own +blessedness; for to travel hopefully is a better thing than to arrive, +and the true success is labour." (_Virginibus Puerisque._) + + + +The author desires to acknowledge the kindness of Messrs. Cassell & +Co., in allowing short extracts to be made from _The Master of +Ballantrae_, _The Wrecker_, and _Catriona_; also to thank Mr. William +Heinemann for a similar courtesy with regard to _St. Ives_, and Messrs. +Chatto & Windus for their permission to include various quotations from +_Virginibus Puerisque_, _Underwoods_, and _Prince Otto_. + + + + Printed by The Bushey Colour Press (André & Sleigh, Ltd.), + Bushey, Herts., England. + + + + +[Illustration: Rear cover] + + + + + + + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's A Day with Robert Louis Stevenson, by Maurice Clare + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 53165 *** diff --git a/53165-h/53165-h.htm b/53165-h/53165-h.htm index a0a3ca7..315d016 100644 --- a/53165-h/53165-h.htm +++ b/53165-h/53165-h.htm @@ -1,1772 +1,1359 @@ -<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.1//EN"
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-Project Gutenberg's A Day with Robert Louis Stevenson, by Maurice Clare
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-Title: A Day with Robert Louis Stevenson
-
-Author: Maurice Clare
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-Release Date: September 28, 2016 [EBook #53165]
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-Language: English
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-*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A DAY WITH ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON ***
-
-
-
-
-Produced by Al Haines
-
-
-
-
-
-</pre>
-
-
-<p><br /><br /></p>
-
-<p class="capcenter">
-<a id="img-cover-f"></a>
-<img class="imgcenter" src="images/img-cover-f.jpg" alt="Cover art" />
-<br />
-Cover art
-</p>
-
-<p><br /><br /></p>
-
-<p class="capcenter">
-<a id="img-000"></a>
-<img class="imgcenter" src="images/img-000.jpg" alt="Robert Louis Stevenson" />
-<br />
-Robert Louis Stevenson
-</p>
-
-<p><br /><br /></p>
-
-<p class="noindent">
-<i>Painting by W. Hatherell.</i>
-</p>
-
-<p class="noindent">
-"Took down the folds of her hair—shook it<br />
-round her face and the pool repeated her<br />
-thus veiled."
-</p>
-
-<p class="noindent">
-<i>Prince Otto.</i>
-</p>
-
-<p><br /></p>
-
-<p class="capcenter">
-<a id="img-front-t"></a>
-<a href="images/img-front.jpg">
-<img class="imgcenter" src="images/img-front-t.jpg" alt="Prince Otto" />
-</a>
-<br />
-<i>Prince Otto</i>
-</p>
-
-<h1>
-<br /><br />
- A DAY WITH<br />
- ROBERT LOUIS<br />
- STEVENSON<br />
-</h1>
-
-<p><br /></p>
-
-<p class="t2b">
- BY MAURICE CLARE<br />
-</p>
-
-<p><br /><br /></p>
-
-<p class="t2">
- LONDON<br />
- HODDER & STOUGHTON<br />
- 1910<br />
-</p>
-
-<p><br /><br /><br /></p>
-
-<p class="noindent">
- <i>In the same Series.<br />
- Dickens.<br />
- Thackeray.</i><br />
-</p>
-
-<p><br /><br /><br /></p>
-
-<p><a id="chap01"></a></p>
-
-<h3>
-A DAY WITH STEVENSON.
-</h3>
-
-<p><br /></p>
-
-<p>
-Supposing that in the month
-of April, 1886, you had arrived,
-a guest foreseen, at the pleasant
-ivy-muffled dwelling in Bournemouth,
-which had recently adopted
-the name of Skerryvore, and
-that you had been permitted to
-enter its doors—you might account yourself a
-somewhat favoured person. For the master
-of the house, "that rickety and cloistered
-spectre," as he termed himself, the "pallid
-brute who lived in Skerryvore like a weevil
-in a biscuit," might be invisible for the
-nonce—shut upstairs, forbidden even to speak for
-fear of inducing hemorrhage. Or again, you
-might yourself be afflicted with an obvious
-cold: in which case you would not be admitted
-into his presence, lest you left contagion of
-that cold.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-But if fate befriended you, you would
-chance upon the most remarkable personality,
-it might be, that you had yet encountered. A
-lean, long flat-chested man, gracefully emphatic
-of gesture—pacing up and down the room as he
-talked—burning with hectic energy—a man of
-rich brown tints in hair and eyes and skin:
-mutable, mirthful, brilliant—above all "vital,"
-as he had described himself, "wholly vital with
-a buoyance of life" which had upborne him
-hitherto over the crest of most tumultuous distresses.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-Robert Louis Stevenson was now thirty-six
-years old: and ever since his sixth year, when,
-as his mother recorded in her diary, he dreamed
-that he "heard the noise of pens writing," his
-aim had been set unswervingly toward the one
-goal. Born of a strong and strenuous family,
-the great lighthouse builders of the north, he
-was not, like them, intent upon the subjugation
-of obstinate stone, the ordering and ordaining
-of rocks and seas. Dhu Heartach and the Bell
-Rock and Skerryvore he could admire at a
-distance: but the material which cried aloud to
-him for mastery, was much more plastic,—yet,
-to him, no less stubborn. "I imagine," he
-declared, "nobody ever had such pains to learn
-a trade as I had; but I slogged at it day in and
-day out." His fastidious soul refused to be
-contented with a facile and slipshod utterance.
-A passionate quest: after <i>le mot propre</i>, which had
-led him, in his own phrase, to "play the sedulus
-ape" to all the great prose writers of the
-past—and a sense of style such as no man had ever so
-anxiously and assiduously developed in
-himself—these had achieved their own reward.
-"'Thanks to my dire industry," said Stevenson,
-"I have done more with smaller gifts than
-almost any man of letters in the world."
-</p>
-
-<p>
-And this was a just pride: for there was
-no branch of literature in which he could not
-admirably acquit himself. So many years a
-struggler in obscurity, with small hopes, few
-successes, little encouragement—battling with
-continuous and crippling maladies,—this
-indomitable artist, by sheer dint of "dire industry,"
-now suddenly stood forth in full blaze of
-public recognition. The author of <i>Virginibus
-Puerisque</i>, <i>Treasure Island</i>, <i>Prince Otto</i>, <i>The Child's
-Garden of Verse</i>, and <i>Dr. Jekyll</i>, was very much
-a man to be reckoned with.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-Probably few modern books have met with
-such instantaneous and triumphant success as
-<i>Treasure Island</i> and <i>Dr. Jekyll</i>. The first, after
-running its course, unannounced and comparatively
-unrecognized, the serial of an obscure
-author, in <i>Young Folks' Paper</i>, was published
-in book form,—and Stevenson, like Byron,
-"awoke to find himself famous." The honours
-which he had failed to obtain with all the
-dainty humour, all the valiant fatalism, of
-<i>Virginibus Puerisque</i>, had been accorded
-without stint to <i>Treasure Island</i>. It was a tense
-and stimulating piece of pure adventure. The
-authentic air of the eighteenth century breathed
-through every sentence of it: and its fine
-flavour of dare-devil romance kindled even
-sober statesmen, such as Mr. Gladstone, to a
-very furore of avidity in devouring its
-breathless pages.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-As for <i>Dr. Jekyll</i>, that gruesome
-work—literally the product of a nightmare—had been
-quoted in pulpits, discussed in newspapers, read
-by everybody,—it had taken the world by
-storm. Yet Stevenson's head was not turned
-by his tardily-won success: with his customary
-<i>sang froid</i>, he took things as they came, failures
-and triumphs, and met each alike with smiling gallantry.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-The motives which had led him into authorship—or
-rather forced him, despite all stress
-and hindrance of froward circumstances,—were
-as curiously varied as his own nature; and it
-was these motives which still drove him hard
-and incessantly. To fame he was perhaps not
-wholly indifferent. No author sits so austerely
-aloft as to disdain popular applause altogether.
-Yet a born stylist and a conscious artist, like
-Stevenson, knew that his most finished work
-was above and beyond the appreciation of the
-general public. For money,—though it was a
-necessity of life to him, and although, with all
-his recent triumphs, he was not at present
-earning more than £400 a year,—for money he
-did not care, except as a means to an end.
-"Wealth is only useful for two things," he
-said, "a yacht and a string quartet. Except
-for these, I hold that £700 a year is as much as
-a man can possibly want." Still, in declaring,
-"I do not write for the public," he added with
-engaging candour, "I do write for money, a
-nobler deity," and this, to a certain extent was
-true. It was for money only, no doubt, that he
-was now undertaking, against the grain, that
-"romance of tushery," <i>The Black Arrow</i>, a tale
-with a mediæval setting in which he felt himself
-ill at ease. But "most of all," he allowed, "I
-write for myself; not perhaps any more noble,
-but both more intelligent and nearer home."
-</p>
-
-<p>
-And that a man in such difficulties of health
-and finance, and so precarious a position, should
-have the courage of his own determined artistry,
-was in itself sufficiently remarkable: but the
-result more than justified his choice.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-All the morning, Stevenson had been
-upstairs writing: probably after a bad night;
-very likely in what any other man would term
-a totally unfit condition. Under any and all
-circumstances, he continued to write unflinchingly;
-racked by coughing, reeling with weakness,
-with his right arm in a sling, and his left
-hand holding the pen,—sitting up in bed with
-a clinical thermometer in his mouth; and yet,
-as he declared, "I like my life all the same
-... I should bear false witness if I did not
-declare life happy." ... He was, in his own
-words, "made for a contest, and the powers
-have so willed that my battlefield should be
-this dingy, inglorious one of the bed and the
-physic bottle."
-</p>
-
-<p>
-"To declare life happy," became, in fact,
-his literary mission,—the condensed philosophy
-of his gay, inveterate courage. "I believe that
-literature should give joy," was his maxim,
-"one dank, dispirited word is harmful,—a
-crime of <i>lèse-humanité</i>." This brave and cheerful
-outlook is evident in all his essays,—it is,
-so to speak, a glorified and artistic
-Mark-Tapleyism, all-pervading, unimpugnable, ready
-to survive the most malevolent accidents of
-life, the crowning tragedy of death itself. And
-so you find the "chronic sickist," as he termed
-himself, still ready, in all but body, for great
-risks and inspiriting adventures, and—through
-a mist of pain—leading forlorn hopes with a
-waving sword of flame. You hear him
-proclaiming that:
-</p>
-
-<p>
-"All who have meant good work with their
-whole hearts, have done good work, although
-they may die before they have the time to sign
-it. Every heart that has beat strong and
-cheerfully has left a hopeful impulse behind it
-in the world, and bettered the tradition of
-mankind. And even if death catch people,
-like an open pitfall, and in mid-career, laying
-out vast projects, and planning monstrous
-foundations, flushed with hope, and their
-mouths full of boastful language, they should
-be at once tripped up and silenced; is there
-not something brave and spirited in such a
-termination? and does not life go down with
-a better grace, foaming in full body over a
-precipice, than miserable struggling to an end
-in sandy deltas?" (<i>Virginibus Puerisque</i>.)
-</p>
-
-<p>
-And to him, above all, applied his own
-triumphant lines, those which he addressed to
-W. E. Henley, another writer, a man of like
-courageous outlook, who, like himself, "in the
-fell grip of circumstances, had not winced nor
-cried aloud:
-</p>
-
-<p class="poem">
- "... Small the pipe; but oh! do thou,<br />
- Peak-faced and suffering piper, blow therein<br />
- The dirge of heroes dead; and to these sick,<br />
- These dying, sound the triumph over death.<br />
- Behold! each greatly breathes; each tastes a joy<br />
- Unknown before in dying; for each knows<br />
- A hero dies with him—though unfulfilled,<br />
- Yet conquering truly—and not dies in vain."<br />
-</p>
-
-<p><br /></p>
-
-<p>
-At present he was engaged upon <i>Kidnapped</i>,
-that admirable piece of fiction which he had
-begun, "partly as a lark and partly as a
-pot-boiler." It was a relief, after the concentrated
-horror of <i>Dr. Jekyll</i>, to escape into the Scottish
-heather-scent and to feel the salt sea-wind
-whistling through the cordage of <i>Kidnapped</i>.
-</p>
-
-<p><br /></p>
-
-<p class="noindent">
-<i>Painting by W. Hatherell.</i>
-</p>
-
-<p class="noindent">
-"She stood on the bulwarks and held on by a<br />
-stay, the wind blowing in her petticoats.
-</p>
-
-<p class="noindent">
-<i>Catriona.</i>
-</p>
-
-<p><br /></p>
-
-<p class="capcenter">
-<a id="img-012-t"></a>
-<a href="images/img-012.jpg">
-<img class="imgcenter" src="images/img-012-t.jpg" alt="Catriona" />
-</a>
-<br />
-<i>Catriona</i>
-</p>
-
-<p><br /></p>
-
-<p>
-Stevenson was desirous to "get free of this
-prison-yard of the abominably ugly, where I
-take my daily exercise with my contemporaries." Possibly
-he recognised that the amazing
-popularity of <i>Jekyll</i> had been due to the morbid
-attractiveness of its subject, rather than to its
-merits of craftsmanship; for, as he had averred,
-"I know that good work sometimes hits; but,
-with my hand on my heart, I think it is an
-accident." But now he was at liberty to give
-play to his infinite variety upon a true boys'
-book,—a story to satisfy the inveterate
-boyishness of his own heart. "Of the romance of
-boyhood and adolescence, it has been said, he
-is an unsurpassed master ... the philosophy
-of life developed in both his essays and romances
-is that rather of a gifted boy than a mature
-man." (J. W. Mackail.) And even the girls
-of Stevenson's imagination have been accused
-of being "boys in petticoats." The phrase has
-reason. "I have never admired a girl," he
-wrote, and again, "I have never pleased
-myself with any women of mine." The other sex
-remained for him, throughout, a mystery which
-he hardly cared to solve,—a sealed book which
-he was not desirous to open. "Of the two
-eternal factors in the destiny of man, warfare
-and love," although he allowed that "to love
-is the great amulet which makes the world a
-garden," he preferred to deal almost exclusively
-with the warfare.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-And yet one women had played a very
-important part in Stevenson's life: and it was
-practically with his marriage that the tide of
-his fortunes had changed. His wife,—"trusty,
-dusky, vivid, true," was his very <i>alter ego</i>: with
-"a character" (to quote Mr. Sidney Colvin)
-"as strong, interesting, and romantic almost
-as his own: an inseparable sharer of all his
-thoughts, the most shrewd and stimulating of
-critics: and in sickness, despite her own
-precarious health, the most devoted and most
-efficient of nurses." To while away the weary
-hours of illness, Mrs. Stevenson made up
-stories to amuse him,—and subsequently the
-husband and wife would write them out
-together. She, with her "eyes of gold and
-bramble-dew," was literally all-in-all to him as
-companion, helpmate, friend;—and far—how
-infinitely far!—above the ideal wife whom he
-had described so adroitly,—in his bachelor
-days,—that woman who should have "a fine
-touch for the affections," and who should at
-least be sufficiently talented to avoid boring her
-life-long comrade. The character of the ideal
-wife, as there indicated,—apt at gracious
-compromises, possessor of a cheerful fluent
-tongue,—was very obviously set forth by a man who
-had never yet been stirred by the sharp throbs
-of an imperative emotion. And now that
-Stevenson realised what love in its depth and
-breadth might mean, it held a certain sanctity
-for him,—he was loth to speak of it, as to write
-of it. It was a marvel that had befallen him
-personally: but for other people, it might still
-perhaps, be no more than that gentle domesticated
-affection which he had portrayed with
-such amiable humour. But there was one
-point in which he, consciously or unconsciously
-insisted, in his <i>desiderata</i> of the female
-character.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-"It always warms a man," he had declared,
-"to see a woman brave," and he saw it daily
-in his wife. Therefore it came about, that,
-unversed in women—as Stevenson unquestionably
-was, he was able to endow his heroines
-with a touch of gallant boyishness, a hint of
-the heroic—and if they failed in
-flesh-and-blood-<i>vraisemblance</i>,
-they had that "steel-true,
-blade-straight" quality which he adored in the
-women he had chosen.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-You will notice this courageous virtue in
-all of them, rich and poor; from <i>Catriona</i>, that
-"tall, pretty, tender figure of a maiden, when,
-having assured her father's escape from prison
-by a bold stratagem, she arrives a fugitive and
-an exile at Helvoetsluys, and lands from the
-staggering side of the <i>Rose</i> into the little boat
-below;—when, in David Balfour's words:
-</p>
-
-<p>
-"I began to think I had made a fool's
-bargain, that it was merely impossible Catriona
-should be got on board to me, and that I stood
-to be set ashore in Helvoet all by myself
-... But this was to reckon without the lass's courage
-... Up she stood on the bulwarks and held
-by a stay, the wind blowing in her petticoats,
-which made the enterprise more dangerous,
-and gave us rather more a view of her stockings
-than would be thought genteel in cities"—(<i>Catriona.</i>)
-</p>
-
-<p class="noindent">
-to Seraphina in <i>Prince Otto</i>, still inherently
-valorous in that desperate flight through the
-forest: where:
-</p>
-
-<p>
-"At length when she was well weary, she
-came upon a wide and shallow pool. Stones
-stood in it, like islands; bulrushes fringed the
-coast; the floor was paved with pine needles;
-and the pines themselves, whose roots made
-promontories, looked down silently on their
-green images. She crept to the margin and
-beheld herself with wonder, a hollow and
-bright-eyed phantom, in the ruins of her palace
-robe ... She addressed herself to make a
-toilette by that forest mirror, washed herself
-pure from all the stains of her adventure, took
-off her jewels and wrapped them in her handkerchief,
-re-arranged the tatters of her dress, and
-took down the folds of her hair. She shook it
-round her face, and the pool repeated her thus
-veiled." (<i>Prince Otto.</i>)
-</p>
-
-<p>
-Clara Huddlestone, in the <i>Pavilion on the
-Links</i>, repeats the same undauntable note: Olalla
-is inexorable in moral courage of renunciation,
-even the weeping Blanche, in the <i>Sieur de
-Malétroit's Door</i>, has the mettle of some small
-creature at bay.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-The charm of Stevenson's heroines is, in
-short, a cold charm; nor does he often accord
-them the assistance of a personal description.
-But they are finely tempered, of the best Toledo
-steel, and owing to their boyish character, there
-is no very obvious gap in those novels where
-they are conspicuously absent, such as <i>The Ebb
-Tide</i>, <i>The Wreckers</i>, and <i>The Master of Ballantrae</i>.
-In the latter, indeed, there is a slight "female
-interest," but a stronger personality in the
-heroine must inevitably have changed or
-coloured the whole course of the book: and
-one cannot but detect a certain vacuum, where
-at least some emotion might have lifted a
-haggard head, in the character of Mrs. Henry,—even
-in that scene, surcharged with hidden
-explosive possibilities, when the author
-describes how:
-</p>
-
-<p>
-"The Master played upon that little ballad,
-and upon those who heard him, like an instrument,
-and seemed now upon the point of failing,
-and now to conquer his distress, so that the
-words and music seemed to pour out of his own
-heart and his own past, and to be aimed directly
-at Mrs. Henry.... When it came to an end
-we all sat silent for a time: he had chosen the
-dusk of the afternoon, so that none could see
-his neighbour's face: but it seemed as if we
-held our breathing: only my old lord cleared
-his throat. The first to move was the singer,
-who got to his feet suddenly and softly, and
-went and walked softly to and fro in the low
-end of the hall." (<i>The Master of Ballantrae.</i>)
-</p>
-
-<p><br /></p>
-
-<p>
-But Mrs. Henry plays a very minor part
-in the marring or making, here, of two men's
-lives: it is a rôle of <i>vis inertiæ</i> at best. And,
-indeed, when all is said, what shall a petticoat
-be if not irrelevant, among the clash of steel
-and smoke of pistols, in an atmosphere
-permeated by Spanish doubloons or illicit piratical
-treasure? Stevenson's infallible artistic
-instinct led him to keep the adventure-story
-pendant upon the deeds of men, and the eager
-mistakes of boys; and a certain curious
-penchant for the squalid, the submerged, the
-picturesque, brought him by choice into such
-company as no heroine should enter—that of
-Villon, for instance, and John Silver, and
-Herrick the cockney vagabond. "The spice
-of life is battle," he said; and his life, and his
-books, were brimful of battles with foes or
-with fortune.
-</p>
-
-<p><br /></p>
-
-<p class="noindent">
-<i>Painting by W. Hatherell.</i>
-</p>
-
-<p class="noindent">
-"'The words and music seemed to pour out of<br />
-his own heart and his own past and to be<br />
-aimed directly at Mrs. Henry."
-</p>
-
-<p class="noindent">
-<i>Master of Ballantrae.</i>
-</p>
-
-<p><br /></p>
-
-<p class="capcenter">
-<a id="img-020-t"></a>
-<a href="images/img-020.jpg">
-<img class="imgcenter" src="images/img-020-t.jpg" alt="Master of Ballantrae" />
-</a>
-<br />
-<i>Master of Ballantrae</i>
-</p>
-
-<p><br /></p>
-
-<p>
-The open-air life which he had perforce
-abandoned, the joy of physical strength and
-hair-breadth 'scape, could still be his by proxy.
-He revelled in delineating his ideal man:
-</p>
-
-<p>
-"Being a true lover of living, a fellow with
-something pushing and spontaneous in his inside,
-he must, like any other soldier, in any other
-stirring, deadly warfare, push on at his best
-pace until he touch the goal. 'A peerage or
-Westminster Abbey!' cried Nelson in his
-bright, boyish, heroic manner. These are great
-incentives; not for any of these, but for the
-plain satisfaction of living, of being about their
-business in some sort or other, do the brave,
-serviceable men of every nation tread down
-the nettle danger, and pass flyingly over all
-the stumbling-blocks of prudence." (<i>Virginibus
-Puerisque.</i>)
-</p>
-
-<p><br /></p>
-
-<p>
-The tramp of horse-hoofs, the clank of the
-capstan, the door ajar—a thousand sights and
-sounds were but symbolisms to him of some
-mysterious by-way of adventure to be followed
-up, quick with latent possibilities of romance;
-and from one word, one name, he could evolve
-a whole intricate plot. With the simplest of
-sentences, he could electrify the startled reader,
-as when in <i>The Wrecker</i>, where the desperate
-castaways sit gambling on the desert island, and
-one suddenly cries aloud, "Sail ho!"
-</p>
-
-<p>
-"All turned at the cry,—and there, in the
-wild light of the morning, heading straight for
-Midway Reef, was the brig <i>Flying Scud</i> of
-Hull." (<i>The Wrecker.</i>)
-</p>
-
-<p><br /></p>
-
-<p>
-On that moment the whole tale hangs as on
-a pivot. All its involution and evolution, all
-its intricate and tangled clues, lead—backwards
-or forwards—to this one swift breathless sight.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-His morning's work accomplished, the tall
-gaunt man came downstairs, literally to play
-awhile. After weeks, it might be, of enforced
-seclusion in his room, his eye rested pleasurably
-upon the various attractive objects which
-almost seemed like new to him. Stevenson,—the
-avowed evader of personal property, the
-rolling-stone that had so long refused to gather
-moss,—was now, under a woman's tender
-surveillance, surrounded with charm and comfort.
-"Our drawing room," he maintained, "is a
-place so beautiful that it's like eating to sit
-down in it. No other room is so lovely in the
-world ... I blush for the figure I cut in such
-a bower." The garden, Mrs. Stevenson's
-special pleasure, but one in which her husband
-did not share, was very lovely, with a lawn,
-and heather-bank, and a half-acre of land,
-where a little stream ran down a "chine" full
-of rhododendrons. A large dovecot figured in
-the garden; and there also "Boguey," the
-Stevensons' dog, was buried, to whom no other
-dog had ever been deemed a worthy successor.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-Stevenson, his clothes hanging loosely on
-his emaciated figure, and his hands—"wonderful
-hands—long and fragile, like those in the
-early portraits of Velasquez," lingered lovingly
-over the keys. For a while he amused himself
-by picking out, note by note, the old-world
-dance measures of Lully and Rameau; those
-gavottes, rigadoons and minuets, which
-conveyed to him the indefinable <i>pot-pourri</i>-like,
-flavour of his favourite eighteenth century,
-embued with a certain stately dignity, "the
-periwig feeling," he called it, as of lords and
-ladies treading courtly measures. Stevenson
-was passionately fond of classical music, but he
-had never attained to any facility of execution.
-And when he grew tired with his efforts as an
-interpreter of Lully, he turned to "pickling," as
-he called it—composing, that is to say, after a
-fashion, with "the manly and melodious
-forefinger." The fact that he had invariably failed
-to master the rudiments of theory, in no wise
-deterred him; on the contrary, difficulties
-rather enhanced his delight. "Books are of
-no use," he avowed, "they tell you how to
-write in four parts, and that cannot be done
-by man." So he continued to "pickle" with
-a light heart, and to enjoy consecutive fifths
-and other theoretical delinquencies with an
-enthusiasm worthy of the most modern composer.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-Nothing but the lunch hour brought his
-musical experiments to a close. Stevenson,
-who had, in his own words, "been obliged to
-strip himself, one after another, of all the
-pleasures that he had chosen, except smoking"
-(and indeed, he was smoking cigarettes all day
-long) by no means disdained the pleasures of
-the table. Not, perhaps, in the role of a
-gourmet—but as an artist in the more recondite
-delicacies of taste and smell. "To detect the
-flavour of an olive is no less a piece of human
-perfection than to find beauty in the colours of
-a sunset," he observed; he coupled the flavour
-of wine with the beauty of the dawn, and
-declared that we do not recognise at its full
-value the great part in life that is played by
-eating and drinking. "There is a romance
-about the matter after all," he observed.
-"Probably the table has more devotees than love;
-and I am sure food is more generally
-entertaining than scenery." It was the "romance of
-the matter" that appealed to him; especially
-the colour, and savour, and poetical tradition
-of wine. "Books, and tobacco jars, and some
-old Burgundy as red as a November sunset,
-and as fragrant as a violet in April"—these,
-he thought, should suffice the most luxurious.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-After lunch, if he anticipated an exhausting
-evening, he went to sleep—at a moment's
-notice—and after a short, sound repose, was
-as eager as ever to resume his pianoforte
-amusements; which he continued until friends
-arrived.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-At the age of four-and-twenty, Stevenson
-had noted down his three chief wishes. "First,
-good health: secondly, a small competence:
-thirdly, <i>O Du lieber Gott!</i> friends." The first:
-wish was irrevocably denied: the second was
-only just beginning to be granted, the guerdon
-of unresting toil: the third petition had been
-abundantly answered. Never was a man more
-happy in his friends; or one who made them so
-instantaneously and without effort. "He had
-only to speak," said one friend, "in order to
-be recognised in the first minute for a witty
-and charming gentleman, and in the second,
-for a man of genius." Some, indeed, like
-Mr. Edmund Gosse, came home dazzled and
-astounded, saying, as Constance does of Arthur,
-"Was ever such a gracious creature born?" His
-expression, of mingled tenderness and
-mirth, his "scholarly and eclectic
-presence"—together with his picturesque, velvet-coated
-appearance, and his flashing flow of words,
-combined to make a man so attractive and so
-unique as could command all love at will. And
-the friends were very many and very notable,
-who haunted Skerryvore. First and foremost
-was "Bob," Mr. R. A. M. Stevenson, the
-poet's first cousin, the brilliant art critic: "the
-man likest and most unlike to me," as
-R.L.S. described him. "Bob's" sister, Mrs. de Mattos,
-and her child were frequent visitors; then there
-were celebrities from London: such as Sargent
-the painter, William Archer, Sidney Colvin,
-W. E. Henley, Henry James; and again
-friends residing in the neighbourhood of
-Bournemouth; the poet Sir Henry Taylor, and his
-family; Sir Percy Shelley and his wife. These
-latter, indeed, regarded Stevenson almost in the
-light of a son. He struck them as bearing an
-extraordinary resemblance to Percy Bysshe
-Shelley; less, perhaps, in lineaments than in
-figure and in mind; and in consequence of this
-similarity, they held him very dear.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-But to all he was the same bewildering
-charming host, the man who variously displayed,
-to quote W. E. Henley:
-</p>
-
-<p class="poem">
- "A deal of Ariel, just a streak of Puck,<br />
- Much Antony, of Hamlet most of all,—"<br />
-</p>
-
-<p class="noindent">
-And combined with these curiously versatile
-fruits, "something of the Shorter Catechist."
-</p>
-
-<p>
-Generous in criticism, kind in praise, grave
-and humorous in rapid transition, the amazing
-scope and variety of Stevenson's writings were
-excelled by the scope and variety of his talk.
-"There was no part of the writer that was not
-visibly present in the man." (Graham Balfour.) He
-had laid down his opinion that "there can
-be no fairer ambition than to excel in talk; to
-be affable, gay, ready, clear and welcome." But
-none save those who were privileged to
-hear him, as with quick, impetuous gestures,
-like a Southern foreigner, he emphasised his
-phrases, could realise the power, the versatility,
-the inexpressible, irrepressible charm with
-which the author could fulfil his "fair ambition."
-</p>
-
-<p>
-When the visitors had severally taken
-their departure, the strong resonant voice,
-with its Scottish accent and rich, full tones still
-ringing in their ears,—Stevenson had suffered
-no abatement in the stream of his exuberant
-mental vitality. The excitement of
-conversation had, if anything, keyed him up; and
-presently, for the writing of a few unavoidable
-letters, he betook himself to his study; "the
-study where a smiling God beholds each day
-my stage of labour trod," and sate himself
-down there with reluctance.
-</p>
-
-<p><br /></p>
-
-<p class="noindent">
-<i>Painting by W. Hatherell.</i>
-</p>
-
-<p class="noindent">
-"All turned at the cry, and there in the wild<br />
-light of the morning heaving straight for<br />
-midway reef was the brig <i>Flying Scud</i> of<br />
-Hull."
-</p>
-
-<p class="noindent">
-<i>The Wrecker.</i>
-</p>
-
-<p><br /></p>
-
-<p class="capcenter">
-<a id="img-030-t"></a>
-<a href="images/img-030.jpg">
-<img class="imgcenter" src="images/img-030-t.jpg" alt="The Wrecker" />
-</a>
-<br />
-<i>The Wrecker</i>
-</p>
-
-<p><br /></p>
-
-<p>
-Correspondence, as a rule, he found but an
-irksome affair; unless conducted upon his own
-whimsical lines. "I deny that letters should
-contain news—I mean mine—those of other
-people should," was his theory; and he boasted
-himself of a "willingness to pour forth unmitigated
-rot, which constitutes in me the true spirit
-of correspondence." For all that, his letters,
-grave or gay, remain among the most delightful
-reading in existence; flavoured with his
-quaintest conceits, endowed with his most
-delicate turns of phrase, and often tempered
-with that "something of the Shorter Catechist"
-to which Henley had alluded.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-For, undoubtedly, as time went on,
-although Stevenson continued to "combine the
-face of a boy with the distinguished bearing
-of a man of the world," he was gradually
-exchanging the "streak of Puck" and
-the capricious unconventions of the born
-Bohemian, for something graver and more
-mature,—a tendency almost towards the
-didactic. "'Tis a strange world indeed," he
-had commented, "but there is a manifest God
-for those who care to look for Him." And
-now, "with the passing of years," he observed,
-"there grows more and more upon me that
-belief in the kindness of this scheme of things,
-and the goodness of our veiled God, which is an
-excellent and pacifying compensation." He
-was suffering, and in all probability would
-perpetually suffer, from "that sharp ferule of
-calamity under which we are all God's scholars
-till we die": but his patience was impregnable,
-and his desire to leave a brave example bore
-him constant company. "To suffer," said he,
-"sets a keen edge on what remains of the
-agreeable," and he prepared to enjoy with
-equal zest all pleasures which were still
-permitted to him.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-As he put away his writing materials, and
-descended once more to his beloved piano, his
-father and mother came in. They were living
-in Bournemouth to be near their only son.
-The old lighthouse engineer, whose father had
-built the Bell Rock, who had served under his
-brother Alan in the building of Skerryvore,
-"the noblest of all extant sea-lights," who had
-himself erected Dhu Heartach, was now palpably
-failing. The spectacle of a stern and
-honest man slowly evacuating all that he had
-held of personal strength, was, to his son Louis,
-a poignantly pathetic one. Their disagreements
-had been very many and deep-rooted,
-dating from even before that "dreadful evening
-walk" in Stevenson's youth, when, "on being
-tightly cross-questioned," the lad who had been
-trained for a civil engineer, and had "worked
-in a carpenter's shop and had a brass foundry,
-and hung about wood-yards and the like," confessed
-that he cared for nothing but literature,—"no
-profession!" as his father contemptuously
-replied. They had differed on almost
-every conceivable topic open to their discussion,—yet
-here, in the fulness of time, they were at
-peace together,—the austere old man in his
-second childhood, and the chronic invalid who
-"must live as though he were walking on
-eggs." Innumerable ineffaceable traits of similarity
-bound one to the other; at bottom of all the
-bygone angers lay a permanent bedrock of
-mutual love. And perhaps the nearing vision
-of death which terminated all vistas for both of
-them, exercised its usual effect, of calm, and
-<i>laisser-faire</i>, and the equalisation of things: for
-it is probable that no man has a just sense of
-proportionate values until he stands in the
-presence of death.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-Stevenson had often alluded, as a matter of
-personal knowledge, to his constant prescience
-of mortality, and how it affected a man's
-thoughts of life. Very seldom has the view of
-the confirmed invalid, the doomed consumptive,
-been put forth to the world with the frankness
-with which Stevenson invested it. He has
-been sometimes charged with a certain lack of
-reticence: but in this matter, unquestionably,
-his candour was to the benefitting of mankind:
-to whom these close views of the inevitable end
-are rarely possible under such deliberate and
-clear-headed conditions.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-There is nothing maudlin, nothing hypochondriacal,
-about Stevenson's treatment of
-this subject: the same cheerful philosophy
-bears him up, the same vitality of joy. It is
-hardly to be wondered at, that some critics
-handled him seriously, on account of his
-lightheartedness in the august shadow of the last
-enemy,—and his inveterate optimism in the face
-of all calamities. "He jests at scars who never
-felt a wound," they practically told him,—and
-could hardly be persuaded to credit the paradox
-that the man who preached in season and out of
-season, the gospel of that "cheery old Pagan,
-Hope," was not a denizen of the open-air,—healthy,
-athletic, vigorous, incapable of realising
-the maladies incident to man,—instead of an
-emaciated, bed-ridden creature, whose smallest
-pleasures must be measured, so to speak, in a
-medicine-glass. But, "It is something after
-all," he has said, "to leave a brave example":
-and in that he triumphantly succeeded. For
-the opportunities of meteoric heroisms are few
-and far between; but every hour beholds the
-need of those obscurer braveries which may be
-born of pain and suffering....
-</p>
-
-<p>
-In <i>Ordered South</i> and other well-known
-essays, he shows the gradual relaxation of the
-ties which bind a man to terrestrial things,—and
-the curiously significant alteration in his
-regard for the facts of life,—from the sower in
-the dank spring furrows, to the sight of little
-children with their long possibilities before them.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-Stevenson had no children of his own.
-His stepson, Lloyd Osbourne, then at school in
-Bournemouth, was destined to become his
-friend and collaborator: but it is doubtful that
-he cared for children as such. The average
-small folk, "dragged about in a pleasing stupor
-by nurses," were very far remote from that
-superabundant vitality nursed in an attenuated
-physique, which had sat up with a shawl over
-its shoulders, so many tedious months in
-childhood, when its principal <i>habitat</i> was "The Land
-of Counterpane" and other regions mapped
-out in the great and glorious world of Make-Believe.
-</p>
-
-<p><br /></p>
-
-<p class="noindent">
-<i>Painting by W. Hatherell.</i>
-</p>
-
-<p class="noindent">
-ST. IVES DESCENDS FROM EDINBURGH CASTLE.
-</p>
-
-<p class="noindent">
-"The whole forces of my mind were so consumed<br />
-with losing hold and getting it again, that I<br />
-could scarce have told whether I was going up<br />
-or coming down."
-</p>
-
-<p class="noindent">
-<i>St. Ives.</i>
-</p>
-
-<p><br /></p>
-
-<p class="capcenter">
-<a id="img-038-t"></a>
-<a href="images/img-038.jpg">
-<img class="imgcenter" src="images/img-038-t.jpg" alt="St. Ives" />
-</a>
-<br />
-<i>St. Ives</i>
-</p>
-
-<p><br /></p>
-
-<p>
-For this reason, the <i>Child's Garden of Verses</i>
-is not, in any real sense of the word, a child's
-book at all. It contains the exquisite
-imaginations of childhood as the grown-up man
-remembers them: to him they have the charm of
-the vanished past, they are the utterances of
-one who has also lived in Arcadia. But to the
-child, they are the very commonplaces of
-existence. To sway to and fro in a swing,
-"the pleasantest thing a child can do,"—to
-bring home treasures from field and wood, nuts
-and wooden whistles, and some all-precious
-unidentifiable stone, "though father denies it,
-I'm sure it is gold,"—these are everyday affairs
-to the country-child,—just as watching the
-lamplighter is to the town child. To read
-verses about them is but a waste of time, when
-one might be actively engaged in similar
-avocations. But to the grown-man who can never
-play with wooden soldiers in the garden, never
-be a pirate any more,—these reminiscences of
-Stevenson's are a delight unfailing. No one
-else has ever worded them quite so accurately,
-quite so simply: and, taken all for all, they are
-in themselves a summing-up of that most
-excellent philosophy of this author, "The
-world is so full of a number of things, I'm sure
-we should all be as happy as kings!" The
-world was indeed full of a number of things to
-R.L.S. and,—passed through the crucible of
-his own astonishing personality,—they were
-all, bad or good, transmogrified into things
-that make for joy.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-After eight o'clock dinner was over, the
-old folks bade good-night,—the father, with
-touching affection, kissing Louis as though he
-were a child, and murmuring, "You'll see me
-in the morning, dearie," as if still addressing
-that little feeble creature who had been kept
-alive with such difficulty in the old days at
-Edinburgh.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-The younger man returned to the piano-forte;
-it drew him like a magnet. For a short
-time he indulged in his desultory music-making,
-relishing to the uttermost every success of
-sound which he achieved: and the happiness,
-which was his theory of life, radiated in warm
-abundance from his richly-tinted face and
-glowing eyes. "It's a fine life," he exclaimed.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-At last the day's supply of energy succumbed
-before the imperious demands of this
-"fiery threadpaper of a man," and in deference
-to his wife's suggestion he betook himself to bed.
-Not necessarily to rest; for even in his dreams
-his busy brain was working, and his "Brownies,"
-as he termed them, bringing him fresh material
-for plots. <i>Dr. Jekyll</i> had been thus evolved from
-three scenes dreamed successively in detail, from
-which the dreamer waked with cries of horror.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-But he did not flinch before the coming
-night, and anything that it might bring of
-sickness or unrest. He thought alone upon the
-past delightful day, fraught with strenuous work
-and simple pleasures; and he petitioned, in his
-own words:
-</p>
-
-<p class="poem">
- "If I have faltered more or less<br />
- In my great task of happiness;<br />
- If I have moved along my race<br />
- And shown no glorious morning face;<br />
- If beams from happy human eyes<br />
- Have moved me not; if morning skies,<br />
- Books, and my food, and summer rain<br />
- Knocked on my sullen heart in vain:—<br />
- Lord, Thy most pointed pleasure take<br />
- And stab my spirit broad awake!"<br />
- (<i>Underwoods.</i>)<br />
-</p>
-
-<p><br /></p>
-
-<p>
-His wife hovered around him with gentle
-ministrations, as suddenly out-wearied, Robert
-Louis Stevenson extended his long, lean form
-to a possible repose. There was not, perhaps,
-a cheerfuller man that night in England.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-The sea hummed at the foot of the chine,
-with that soft and dove-like purring of the
-South-coast sea; the doves made answer with
-a vibrant cooing in the middle distance of the
-twilight garden. Spring buds of pear-trees and
-cherry-trees globed themselves stealthily into
-blossom; a delicate latent energy was
-consciously present in the air—the rising of sap
-and revivification of seed, all the mysterious
-hidden progresses of April. And the man
-whose ways were set in a perpetual
-convergence towards the doors of death, waved,
-so to speak, a blithe recognition to the myriad
-hosts of life.
-</p>
-
-<p>
-"O toiling hands of mortals! O unwearied
-feet, travelling ye know not whither! Soon,
-soon, it seems to you, you must come forth on
-some conspicuous hilltop, and but a little way
-further, against the setting sun, descry the
-spires of El Dorado. Little do ye know your
-own blessedness; for to travel hopefully is a
-better thing than to arrive, and the true success
-is labour." (<i>Virginibus Puerisque.</i>)
-</p>
-
-<p><br /><br /><br /></p>
-
-<p>
-The author desires to acknowledge the
-kindness of Messrs. Cassell & Co., in allowing
-short extracts to be made from <i>The Master of
-Ballantrae</i>, <i>The Wrecker</i>, and <i>Catriona</i>; also to
-thank Mr. William Heinemann for a similar
-courtesy with regard to <i>St. Ives</i>, and
-Messrs. Chatto & Windus for their permission to
-include various quotations from <i>Virginibus
-Puerisque</i>, <i>Underwoods</i>, and <i>Prince Otto</i>.
-</p>
-
-<p><br /><br /></p>
-
-<p class="t4">
- Printed by The Bushey Colour Press (André & Sleigh, Ltd.),<br />
- Bushey, Herts., England.<br />
-</p>
-
-<p><br /><br /></p>
-
-<p class="capcenter">
-<a id="img-cover-r"></a>
-<img class="imgcenter" src="images/img-cover-r.jpg" alt="Rear cover" />
-<br />
-Rear cover
-</p>
-
-<p><br /><br /><br /><br /></p>
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-<pre>
-
-
-
-
-
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+<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.1//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml11/DTD/xhtml11.dtd"> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en"> + +<head> + +<link rel="coverpage" href="images/img-cover-f.jpg" /> + +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=UTF-8" /> + +<title> +The Project Gutenberg E-text of A Day with Robert Louis Stevenson, +by Maurice Clare +</title> + +<style type="text/css"> +body { color: black; + background: white; + margin-right: 10%; + margin-left: 10%; + font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; + text-align: justify } + +p {text-indent: 4% } + +p.noindent {text-indent: 0% } + +p.t1 {text-indent: 0% ; + font-size: 200%; + text-align: center } + +p.t2 {text-indent: 0% ; + font-size: 150%; + text-align: center } + +p.t2b {text-indent: 0% ; + font-size: 150%; + font-weight: bold; + text-align: center } + +p.t3 {text-indent: 0% ; + font-size: 100%; + text-align: center } + +p.t3b {text-indent: 0% ; + font-size: 100%; + font-weight: bold; + text-align: center } + +p.t4 {text-indent: 0% ; + font-size: 80%; + text-align: center } + +p.t4b {text-indent: 0% ; + font-size: 80%; + font-weight: bold; + text-align: center } + +p.t5 {text-indent: 0% ; + font-size: 60%; + text-align: center } + +h1 { text-align: center } +h2 { text-align: center } +h3 { text-align: center } +h4 { text-align: center } +h5 { text-align: center } + +p.poem {text-indent: 0%; + margin-left: 10%; } + +p.thought {text-indent: 0% ; + letter-spacing: 4em ; + text-align: center } + +p.letter {text-indent: 0%; + margin-left: 10% ; + margin-right: 10% } + +p.footnote {text-indent: 0% ; + font-size: 80%; + margin-left: 10% ; + margin-right: 10% } + +p.dedication {text-indent: 0%; + margin-left: 15%; + text-align: justify } + +p.quote {text-indent: 4% ; + margin-left: 0% ; + margin-right: 0% } + +p.finis { font-size: larger ; + text-align: center ; + text-indent: 0% ; + margin-left: 0% ; + margin-right: 0% } + +p.capcenter { margin-left: 0; + margin-right: 0 ; + margin-bottom: .5% ; + margin-top: 0; + font-weight: bold; + float: none ; + clear: both ; + text-indent: 0%; + text-align: center } + +img.imgcenter { margin-left: auto; + margin-bottom: 0; + margin-top: 1%; + margin-right: auto; } + +</style> + +</head> + +<body> +<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 53165 ***</div> + +<p><br /><br /></p> + +<p class="capcenter"> +<a id="img-cover-f"></a> +<img class="imgcenter" src="images/img-cover-f.jpg" alt="Cover art" /> +<br /> +Cover art +</p> + +<p><br /><br /></p> + +<p class="capcenter"> +<a id="img-000"></a> +<img class="imgcenter" src="images/img-000.jpg" alt="Robert Louis Stevenson" /> +<br /> +Robert Louis Stevenson +</p> + +<p><br /><br /></p> + +<p class="noindent"> +<i>Painting by W. Hatherell.</i> +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +"Took down the folds of her hair—shook it<br /> +round her face and the pool repeated her<br /> +thus veiled." +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +<i>Prince Otto.</i> +</p> + +<p><br /></p> + +<p class="capcenter"> +<a id="img-front-t"></a> +<a href="images/img-front.jpg"> +<img class="imgcenter" src="images/img-front-t.jpg" alt="Prince Otto" /> +</a> +<br /> +<i>Prince Otto</i> +</p> + +<h1> +<br /><br /> + A DAY WITH<br /> + ROBERT LOUIS<br /> + STEVENSON<br /> +</h1> + +<p><br /></p> + +<p class="t2b"> + BY MAURICE CLARE<br /> +</p> + +<p><br /><br /></p> + +<p class="t2"> + LONDON<br /> + HODDER & STOUGHTON<br /> + 1910<br /> +</p> + +<p><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<p class="noindent"> + <i>In the same Series.<br /> + Dickens.<br /> + Thackeray.</i><br /> +</p> + +<p><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<p><a id="chap01"></a></p> + +<h3> +A DAY WITH STEVENSON. +</h3> + +<p><br /></p> + +<p> +Supposing that in the month +of April, 1886, you had arrived, +a guest foreseen, at the pleasant +ivy-muffled dwelling in Bournemouth, +which had recently adopted +the name of Skerryvore, and +that you had been permitted to +enter its doors—you might account yourself a +somewhat favoured person. For the master +of the house, "that rickety and cloistered +spectre," as he termed himself, the "pallid +brute who lived in Skerryvore like a weevil +in a biscuit," might be invisible for the +nonce—shut upstairs, forbidden even to speak for +fear of inducing hemorrhage. Or again, you +might yourself be afflicted with an obvious +cold: in which case you would not be admitted +into his presence, lest you left contagion of +that cold. +</p> + +<p> +But if fate befriended you, you would +chance upon the most remarkable personality, +it might be, that you had yet encountered. A +lean, long flat-chested man, gracefully emphatic +of gesture—pacing up and down the room as he +talked—burning with hectic energy—a man of +rich brown tints in hair and eyes and skin: +mutable, mirthful, brilliant—above all "vital," +as he had described himself, "wholly vital with +a buoyance of life" which had upborne him +hitherto over the crest of most tumultuous distresses. +</p> + +<p> +Robert Louis Stevenson was now thirty-six +years old: and ever since his sixth year, when, +as his mother recorded in her diary, he dreamed +that he "heard the noise of pens writing," his +aim had been set unswervingly toward the one +goal. Born of a strong and strenuous family, +the great lighthouse builders of the north, he +was not, like them, intent upon the subjugation +of obstinate stone, the ordering and ordaining +of rocks and seas. Dhu Heartach and the Bell +Rock and Skerryvore he could admire at a +distance: but the material which cried aloud to +him for mastery, was much more plastic,—yet, +to him, no less stubborn. "I imagine," he +declared, "nobody ever had such pains to learn +a trade as I had; but I slogged at it day in and +day out." His fastidious soul refused to be +contented with a facile and slipshod utterance. +A passionate quest: after <i>le mot propre</i>, which had +led him, in his own phrase, to "play the sedulus +ape" to all the great prose writers of the +past—and a sense of style such as no man had ever so +anxiously and assiduously developed in +himself—these had achieved their own reward. +"'Thanks to my dire industry," said Stevenson, +"I have done more with smaller gifts than +almost any man of letters in the world." +</p> + +<p> +And this was a just pride: for there was +no branch of literature in which he could not +admirably acquit himself. So many years a +struggler in obscurity, with small hopes, few +successes, little encouragement—battling with +continuous and crippling maladies,—this +indomitable artist, by sheer dint of "dire industry," +now suddenly stood forth in full blaze of +public recognition. The author of <i>Virginibus +Puerisque</i>, <i>Treasure Island</i>, <i>Prince Otto</i>, <i>The Child's +Garden of Verse</i>, and <i>Dr. Jekyll</i>, was very much +a man to be reckoned with. +</p> + +<p> +Probably few modern books have met with +such instantaneous and triumphant success as +<i>Treasure Island</i> and <i>Dr. Jekyll</i>. The first, after +running its course, unannounced and comparatively +unrecognized, the serial of an obscure +author, in <i>Young Folks' Paper</i>, was published +in book form,—and Stevenson, like Byron, +"awoke to find himself famous." The honours +which he had failed to obtain with all the +dainty humour, all the valiant fatalism, of +<i>Virginibus Puerisque</i>, had been accorded +without stint to <i>Treasure Island</i>. It was a tense +and stimulating piece of pure adventure. The +authentic air of the eighteenth century breathed +through every sentence of it: and its fine +flavour of dare-devil romance kindled even +sober statesmen, such as Mr. Gladstone, to a +very furore of avidity in devouring its +breathless pages. +</p> + +<p> +As for <i>Dr. Jekyll</i>, that gruesome +work—literally the product of a nightmare—had been +quoted in pulpits, discussed in newspapers, read +by everybody,—it had taken the world by +storm. Yet Stevenson's head was not turned +by his tardily-won success: with his customary +<i>sang froid</i>, he took things as they came, failures +and triumphs, and met each alike with smiling gallantry. +</p> + +<p> +The motives which had led him into authorship—or +rather forced him, despite all stress +and hindrance of froward circumstances,—were +as curiously varied as his own nature; and it +was these motives which still drove him hard +and incessantly. To fame he was perhaps not +wholly indifferent. No author sits so austerely +aloft as to disdain popular applause altogether. +Yet a born stylist and a conscious artist, like +Stevenson, knew that his most finished work +was above and beyond the appreciation of the +general public. For money,—though it was a +necessity of life to him, and although, with all +his recent triumphs, he was not at present +earning more than £400 a year,—for money he +did not care, except as a means to an end. +"Wealth is only useful for two things," he +said, "a yacht and a string quartet. Except +for these, I hold that £700 a year is as much as +a man can possibly want." Still, in declaring, +"I do not write for the public," he added with +engaging candour, "I do write for money, a +nobler deity," and this, to a certain extent was +true. It was for money only, no doubt, that he +was now undertaking, against the grain, that +"romance of tushery," <i>The Black Arrow</i>, a tale +with a mediæval setting in which he felt himself +ill at ease. But "most of all," he allowed, "I +write for myself; not perhaps any more noble, +but both more intelligent and nearer home." +</p> + +<p> +And that a man in such difficulties of health +and finance, and so precarious a position, should +have the courage of his own determined artistry, +was in itself sufficiently remarkable: but the +result more than justified his choice. +</p> + +<p> +All the morning, Stevenson had been +upstairs writing: probably after a bad night; +very likely in what any other man would term +a totally unfit condition. Under any and all +circumstances, he continued to write unflinchingly; +racked by coughing, reeling with weakness, +with his right arm in a sling, and his left +hand holding the pen,—sitting up in bed with +a clinical thermometer in his mouth; and yet, +as he declared, "I like my life all the same +... I should bear false witness if I did not +declare life happy." ... He was, in his own +words, "made for a contest, and the powers +have so willed that my battlefield should be +this dingy, inglorious one of the bed and the +physic bottle." +</p> + +<p> +"To declare life happy," became, in fact, +his literary mission,—the condensed philosophy +of his gay, inveterate courage. "I believe that +literature should give joy," was his maxim, +"one dank, dispirited word is harmful,—a +crime of <i>lèse-humanité</i>." This brave and cheerful +outlook is evident in all his essays,—it is, +so to speak, a glorified and artistic +Mark-Tapleyism, all-pervading, unimpugnable, ready +to survive the most malevolent accidents of +life, the crowning tragedy of death itself. And +so you find the "chronic sickist," as he termed +himself, still ready, in all but body, for great +risks and inspiriting adventures, and—through +a mist of pain—leading forlorn hopes with a +waving sword of flame. You hear him +proclaiming that: +</p> + +<p> +"All who have meant good work with their +whole hearts, have done good work, although +they may die before they have the time to sign +it. Every heart that has beat strong and +cheerfully has left a hopeful impulse behind it +in the world, and bettered the tradition of +mankind. And even if death catch people, +like an open pitfall, and in mid-career, laying +out vast projects, and planning monstrous +foundations, flushed with hope, and their +mouths full of boastful language, they should +be at once tripped up and silenced; is there +not something brave and spirited in such a +termination? and does not life go down with +a better grace, foaming in full body over a +precipice, than miserable struggling to an end +in sandy deltas?" (<i>Virginibus Puerisque</i>.) +</p> + +<p> +And to him, above all, applied his own +triumphant lines, those which he addressed to +W. E. Henley, another writer, a man of like +courageous outlook, who, like himself, "in the +fell grip of circumstances, had not winced nor +cried aloud: +</p> + +<p class="poem"> + "... Small the pipe; but oh! do thou,<br /> + Peak-faced and suffering piper, blow therein<br /> + The dirge of heroes dead; and to these sick,<br /> + These dying, sound the triumph over death.<br /> + Behold! each greatly breathes; each tastes a joy<br /> + Unknown before in dying; for each knows<br /> + A hero dies with him—though unfulfilled,<br /> + Yet conquering truly—and not dies in vain."<br /> +</p> + +<p><br /></p> + +<p> +At present he was engaged upon <i>Kidnapped</i>, +that admirable piece of fiction which he had +begun, "partly as a lark and partly as a +pot-boiler." It was a relief, after the concentrated +horror of <i>Dr. Jekyll</i>, to escape into the Scottish +heather-scent and to feel the salt sea-wind +whistling through the cordage of <i>Kidnapped</i>. +</p> + +<p><br /></p> + +<p class="noindent"> +<i>Painting by W. Hatherell.</i> +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +"She stood on the bulwarks and held on by a<br /> +stay, the wind blowing in her petticoats. +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +<i>Catriona.</i> +</p> + +<p><br /></p> + +<p class="capcenter"> +<a id="img-012-t"></a> +<a href="images/img-012.jpg"> +<img class="imgcenter" src="images/img-012-t.jpg" alt="Catriona" /> +</a> +<br /> +<i>Catriona</i> +</p> + +<p><br /></p> + +<p> +Stevenson was desirous to "get free of this +prison-yard of the abominably ugly, where I +take my daily exercise with my contemporaries." Possibly +he recognised that the amazing +popularity of <i>Jekyll</i> had been due to the morbid +attractiveness of its subject, rather than to its +merits of craftsmanship; for, as he had averred, +"I know that good work sometimes hits; but, +with my hand on my heart, I think it is an +accident." But now he was at liberty to give +play to his infinite variety upon a true boys' +book,—a story to satisfy the inveterate +boyishness of his own heart. "Of the romance of +boyhood and adolescence, it has been said, he +is an unsurpassed master ... the philosophy +of life developed in both his essays and romances +is that rather of a gifted boy than a mature +man." (J. W. Mackail.) And even the girls +of Stevenson's imagination have been accused +of being "boys in petticoats." The phrase has +reason. "I have never admired a girl," he +wrote, and again, "I have never pleased +myself with any women of mine." The other sex +remained for him, throughout, a mystery which +he hardly cared to solve,—a sealed book which +he was not desirous to open. "Of the two +eternal factors in the destiny of man, warfare +and love," although he allowed that "to love +is the great amulet which makes the world a +garden," he preferred to deal almost exclusively +with the warfare. +</p> + +<p> +And yet one women had played a very +important part in Stevenson's life: and it was +practically with his marriage that the tide of +his fortunes had changed. His wife,—"trusty, +dusky, vivid, true," was his very <i>alter ego</i>: with +"a character" (to quote Mr. Sidney Colvin) +"as strong, interesting, and romantic almost +as his own: an inseparable sharer of all his +thoughts, the most shrewd and stimulating of +critics: and in sickness, despite her own +precarious health, the most devoted and most +efficient of nurses." To while away the weary +hours of illness, Mrs. Stevenson made up +stories to amuse him,—and subsequently the +husband and wife would write them out +together. She, with her "eyes of gold and +bramble-dew," was literally all-in-all to him as +companion, helpmate, friend;—and far—how +infinitely far!—above the ideal wife whom he +had described so adroitly,—in his bachelor +days,—that woman who should have "a fine +touch for the affections," and who should at +least be sufficiently talented to avoid boring her +life-long comrade. The character of the ideal +wife, as there indicated,—apt at gracious +compromises, possessor of a cheerful fluent +tongue,—was very obviously set forth by a man who +had never yet been stirred by the sharp throbs +of an imperative emotion. And now that +Stevenson realised what love in its depth and +breadth might mean, it held a certain sanctity +for him,—he was loth to speak of it, as to write +of it. It was a marvel that had befallen him +personally: but for other people, it might still +perhaps, be no more than that gentle domesticated +affection which he had portrayed with +such amiable humour. But there was one +point in which he, consciously or unconsciously +insisted, in his <i>desiderata</i> of the female +character. +</p> + +<p> +"It always warms a man," he had declared, +"to see a woman brave," and he saw it daily +in his wife. Therefore it came about, that, +unversed in women—as Stevenson unquestionably +was, he was able to endow his heroines +with a touch of gallant boyishness, a hint of +the heroic—and if they failed in +flesh-and-blood-<i>vraisemblance</i>, +they had that "steel-true, +blade-straight" quality which he adored in the +women he had chosen. +</p> + +<p> +You will notice this courageous virtue in +all of them, rich and poor; from <i>Catriona</i>, that +"tall, pretty, tender figure of a maiden, when, +having assured her father's escape from prison +by a bold stratagem, she arrives a fugitive and +an exile at Helvoetsluys, and lands from the +staggering side of the <i>Rose</i> into the little boat +below;—when, in David Balfour's words: +</p> + +<p> +"I began to think I had made a fool's +bargain, that it was merely impossible Catriona +should be got on board to me, and that I stood +to be set ashore in Helvoet all by myself +... But this was to reckon without the lass's courage +... Up she stood on the bulwarks and held +by a stay, the wind blowing in her petticoats, +which made the enterprise more dangerous, +and gave us rather more a view of her stockings +than would be thought genteel in cities"—(<i>Catriona.</i>) +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +to Seraphina in <i>Prince Otto</i>, still inherently +valorous in that desperate flight through the +forest: where: +</p> + +<p> +"At length when she was well weary, she +came upon a wide and shallow pool. Stones +stood in it, like islands; bulrushes fringed the +coast; the floor was paved with pine needles; +and the pines themselves, whose roots made +promontories, looked down silently on their +green images. She crept to the margin and +beheld herself with wonder, a hollow and +bright-eyed phantom, in the ruins of her palace +robe ... She addressed herself to make a +toilette by that forest mirror, washed herself +pure from all the stains of her adventure, took +off her jewels and wrapped them in her handkerchief, +re-arranged the tatters of her dress, and +took down the folds of her hair. She shook it +round her face, and the pool repeated her thus +veiled." (<i>Prince Otto.</i>) +</p> + +<p> +Clara Huddlestone, in the <i>Pavilion on the +Links</i>, repeats the same undauntable note: Olalla +is inexorable in moral courage of renunciation, +even the weeping Blanche, in the <i>Sieur de +Malétroit's Door</i>, has the mettle of some small +creature at bay. +</p> + +<p> +The charm of Stevenson's heroines is, in +short, a cold charm; nor does he often accord +them the assistance of a personal description. +But they are finely tempered, of the best Toledo +steel, and owing to their boyish character, there +is no very obvious gap in those novels where +they are conspicuously absent, such as <i>The Ebb +Tide</i>, <i>The Wreckers</i>, and <i>The Master of Ballantrae</i>. +In the latter, indeed, there is a slight "female +interest," but a stronger personality in the +heroine must inevitably have changed or +coloured the whole course of the book: and +one cannot but detect a certain vacuum, where +at least some emotion might have lifted a +haggard head, in the character of Mrs. Henry,—even +in that scene, surcharged with hidden +explosive possibilities, when the author +describes how: +</p> + +<p> +"The Master played upon that little ballad, +and upon those who heard him, like an instrument, +and seemed now upon the point of failing, +and now to conquer his distress, so that the +words and music seemed to pour out of his own +heart and his own past, and to be aimed directly +at Mrs. Henry.... When it came to an end +we all sat silent for a time: he had chosen the +dusk of the afternoon, so that none could see +his neighbour's face: but it seemed as if we +held our breathing: only my old lord cleared +his throat. The first to move was the singer, +who got to his feet suddenly and softly, and +went and walked softly to and fro in the low +end of the hall." (<i>The Master of Ballantrae.</i>) +</p> + +<p><br /></p> + +<p> +But Mrs. Henry plays a very minor part +in the marring or making, here, of two men's +lives: it is a rôle of <i>vis inertiæ</i> at best. And, +indeed, when all is said, what shall a petticoat +be if not irrelevant, among the clash of steel +and smoke of pistols, in an atmosphere +permeated by Spanish doubloons or illicit piratical +treasure? Stevenson's infallible artistic +instinct led him to keep the adventure-story +pendant upon the deeds of men, and the eager +mistakes of boys; and a certain curious +penchant for the squalid, the submerged, the +picturesque, brought him by choice into such +company as no heroine should enter—that of +Villon, for instance, and John Silver, and +Herrick the cockney vagabond. "The spice +of life is battle," he said; and his life, and his +books, were brimful of battles with foes or +with fortune. +</p> + +<p><br /></p> + +<p class="noindent"> +<i>Painting by W. Hatherell.</i> +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +"'The words and music seemed to pour out of<br /> +his own heart and his own past and to be<br /> +aimed directly at Mrs. Henry." +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +<i>Master of Ballantrae.</i> +</p> + +<p><br /></p> + +<p class="capcenter"> +<a id="img-020-t"></a> +<a href="images/img-020.jpg"> +<img class="imgcenter" src="images/img-020-t.jpg" alt="Master of Ballantrae" /> +</a> +<br /> +<i>Master of Ballantrae</i> +</p> + +<p><br /></p> + +<p> +The open-air life which he had perforce +abandoned, the joy of physical strength and +hair-breadth 'scape, could still be his by proxy. +He revelled in delineating his ideal man: +</p> + +<p> +"Being a true lover of living, a fellow with +something pushing and spontaneous in his inside, +he must, like any other soldier, in any other +stirring, deadly warfare, push on at his best +pace until he touch the goal. 'A peerage or +Westminster Abbey!' cried Nelson in his +bright, boyish, heroic manner. These are great +incentives; not for any of these, but for the +plain satisfaction of living, of being about their +business in some sort or other, do the brave, +serviceable men of every nation tread down +the nettle danger, and pass flyingly over all +the stumbling-blocks of prudence." (<i>Virginibus +Puerisque.</i>) +</p> + +<p><br /></p> + +<p> +The tramp of horse-hoofs, the clank of the +capstan, the door ajar—a thousand sights and +sounds were but symbolisms to him of some +mysterious by-way of adventure to be followed +up, quick with latent possibilities of romance; +and from one word, one name, he could evolve +a whole intricate plot. With the simplest of +sentences, he could electrify the startled reader, +as when in <i>The Wrecker</i>, where the desperate +castaways sit gambling on the desert island, and +one suddenly cries aloud, "Sail ho!" +</p> + +<p> +"All turned at the cry,—and there, in the +wild light of the morning, heading straight for +Midway Reef, was the brig <i>Flying Scud</i> of +Hull." (<i>The Wrecker.</i>) +</p> + +<p><br /></p> + +<p> +On that moment the whole tale hangs as on +a pivot. All its involution and evolution, all +its intricate and tangled clues, lead—backwards +or forwards—to this one swift breathless sight. +</p> + +<p> +His morning's work accomplished, the tall +gaunt man came downstairs, literally to play +awhile. After weeks, it might be, of enforced +seclusion in his room, his eye rested pleasurably +upon the various attractive objects which +almost seemed like new to him. Stevenson,—the +avowed evader of personal property, the +rolling-stone that had so long refused to gather +moss,—was now, under a woman's tender +surveillance, surrounded with charm and comfort. +"Our drawing room," he maintained, "is a +place so beautiful that it's like eating to sit +down in it. No other room is so lovely in the +world ... I blush for the figure I cut in such +a bower." The garden, Mrs. Stevenson's +special pleasure, but one in which her husband +did not share, was very lovely, with a lawn, +and heather-bank, and a half-acre of land, +where a little stream ran down a "chine" full +of rhododendrons. A large dovecot figured in +the garden; and there also "Boguey," the +Stevensons' dog, was buried, to whom no other +dog had ever been deemed a worthy successor. +</p> + +<p> +Stevenson, his clothes hanging loosely on +his emaciated figure, and his hands—"wonderful +hands—long and fragile, like those in the +early portraits of Velasquez," lingered lovingly +over the keys. For a while he amused himself +by picking out, note by note, the old-world +dance measures of Lully and Rameau; those +gavottes, rigadoons and minuets, which +conveyed to him the indefinable <i>pot-pourri</i>-like, +flavour of his favourite eighteenth century, +embued with a certain stately dignity, "the +periwig feeling," he called it, as of lords and +ladies treading courtly measures. Stevenson +was passionately fond of classical music, but he +had never attained to any facility of execution. +And when he grew tired with his efforts as an +interpreter of Lully, he turned to "pickling," as +he called it—composing, that is to say, after a +fashion, with "the manly and melodious +forefinger." The fact that he had invariably failed +to master the rudiments of theory, in no wise +deterred him; on the contrary, difficulties +rather enhanced his delight. "Books are of +no use," he avowed, "they tell you how to +write in four parts, and that cannot be done +by man." So he continued to "pickle" with +a light heart, and to enjoy consecutive fifths +and other theoretical delinquencies with an +enthusiasm worthy of the most modern composer. +</p> + +<p> +Nothing but the lunch hour brought his +musical experiments to a close. Stevenson, +who had, in his own words, "been obliged to +strip himself, one after another, of all the +pleasures that he had chosen, except smoking" +(and indeed, he was smoking cigarettes all day +long) by no means disdained the pleasures of +the table. Not, perhaps, in the role of a +gourmet—but as an artist in the more recondite +delicacies of taste and smell. "To detect the +flavour of an olive is no less a piece of human +perfection than to find beauty in the colours of +a sunset," he observed; he coupled the flavour +of wine with the beauty of the dawn, and +declared that we do not recognise at its full +value the great part in life that is played by +eating and drinking. "There is a romance +about the matter after all," he observed. +"Probably the table has more devotees than love; +and I am sure food is more generally +entertaining than scenery." It was the "romance of +the matter" that appealed to him; especially +the colour, and savour, and poetical tradition +of wine. "Books, and tobacco jars, and some +old Burgundy as red as a November sunset, +and as fragrant as a violet in April"—these, +he thought, should suffice the most luxurious. +</p> + +<p> +After lunch, if he anticipated an exhausting +evening, he went to sleep—at a moment's +notice—and after a short, sound repose, was +as eager as ever to resume his pianoforte +amusements; which he continued until friends +arrived. +</p> + +<p> +At the age of four-and-twenty, Stevenson +had noted down his three chief wishes. "First, +good health: secondly, a small competence: +thirdly, <i>O Du lieber Gott!</i> friends." The first: +wish was irrevocably denied: the second was +only just beginning to be granted, the guerdon +of unresting toil: the third petition had been +abundantly answered. Never was a man more +happy in his friends; or one who made them so +instantaneously and without effort. "He had +only to speak," said one friend, "in order to +be recognised in the first minute for a witty +and charming gentleman, and in the second, +for a man of genius." Some, indeed, like +Mr. Edmund Gosse, came home dazzled and +astounded, saying, as Constance does of Arthur, +"Was ever such a gracious creature born?" His +expression, of mingled tenderness and +mirth, his "scholarly and eclectic +presence"—together with his picturesque, velvet-coated +appearance, and his flashing flow of words, +combined to make a man so attractive and so +unique as could command all love at will. And +the friends were very many and very notable, +who haunted Skerryvore. First and foremost +was "Bob," Mr. R. A. M. Stevenson, the +poet's first cousin, the brilliant art critic: "the +man likest and most unlike to me," as +R.L.S. described him. "Bob's" sister, Mrs. de Mattos, +and her child were frequent visitors; then there +were celebrities from London: such as Sargent +the painter, William Archer, Sidney Colvin, +W. E. Henley, Henry James; and again +friends residing in the neighbourhood of +Bournemouth; the poet Sir Henry Taylor, and his +family; Sir Percy Shelley and his wife. These +latter, indeed, regarded Stevenson almost in the +light of a son. He struck them as bearing an +extraordinary resemblance to Percy Bysshe +Shelley; less, perhaps, in lineaments than in +figure and in mind; and in consequence of this +similarity, they held him very dear. +</p> + +<p> +But to all he was the same bewildering +charming host, the man who variously displayed, +to quote W. E. Henley: +</p> + +<p class="poem"> + "A deal of Ariel, just a streak of Puck,<br /> + Much Antony, of Hamlet most of all,—"<br /> +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +And combined with these curiously versatile +fruits, "something of the Shorter Catechist." +</p> + +<p> +Generous in criticism, kind in praise, grave +and humorous in rapid transition, the amazing +scope and variety of Stevenson's writings were +excelled by the scope and variety of his talk. +"There was no part of the writer that was not +visibly present in the man." (Graham Balfour.) He +had laid down his opinion that "there can +be no fairer ambition than to excel in talk; to +be affable, gay, ready, clear and welcome." But +none save those who were privileged to +hear him, as with quick, impetuous gestures, +like a Southern foreigner, he emphasised his +phrases, could realise the power, the versatility, +the inexpressible, irrepressible charm with +which the author could fulfil his "fair ambition." +</p> + +<p> +When the visitors had severally taken +their departure, the strong resonant voice, +with its Scottish accent and rich, full tones still +ringing in their ears,—Stevenson had suffered +no abatement in the stream of his exuberant +mental vitality. The excitement of +conversation had, if anything, keyed him up; and +presently, for the writing of a few unavoidable +letters, he betook himself to his study; "the +study where a smiling God beholds each day +my stage of labour trod," and sate himself +down there with reluctance. +</p> + +<p><br /></p> + +<p class="noindent"> +<i>Painting by W. Hatherell.</i> +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +"All turned at the cry, and there in the wild<br /> +light of the morning heaving straight for<br /> +midway reef was the brig <i>Flying Scud</i> of<br /> +Hull." +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +<i>The Wrecker.</i> +</p> + +<p><br /></p> + +<p class="capcenter"> +<a id="img-030-t"></a> +<a href="images/img-030.jpg"> +<img class="imgcenter" src="images/img-030-t.jpg" alt="The Wrecker" /> +</a> +<br /> +<i>The Wrecker</i> +</p> + +<p><br /></p> + +<p> +Correspondence, as a rule, he found but an +irksome affair; unless conducted upon his own +whimsical lines. "I deny that letters should +contain news—I mean mine—those of other +people should," was his theory; and he boasted +himself of a "willingness to pour forth unmitigated +rot, which constitutes in me the true spirit +of correspondence." For all that, his letters, +grave or gay, remain among the most delightful +reading in existence; flavoured with his +quaintest conceits, endowed with his most +delicate turns of phrase, and often tempered +with that "something of the Shorter Catechist" +to which Henley had alluded. +</p> + +<p> +For, undoubtedly, as time went on, +although Stevenson continued to "combine the +face of a boy with the distinguished bearing +of a man of the world," he was gradually +exchanging the "streak of Puck" and +the capricious unconventions of the born +Bohemian, for something graver and more +mature,—a tendency almost towards the +didactic. "'Tis a strange world indeed," he +had commented, "but there is a manifest God +for those who care to look for Him." And +now, "with the passing of years," he observed, +"there grows more and more upon me that +belief in the kindness of this scheme of things, +and the goodness of our veiled God, which is an +excellent and pacifying compensation." He +was suffering, and in all probability would +perpetually suffer, from "that sharp ferule of +calamity under which we are all God's scholars +till we die": but his patience was impregnable, +and his desire to leave a brave example bore +him constant company. "To suffer," said he, +"sets a keen edge on what remains of the +agreeable," and he prepared to enjoy with +equal zest all pleasures which were still +permitted to him. +</p> + +<p> +As he put away his writing materials, and +descended once more to his beloved piano, his +father and mother came in. They were living +in Bournemouth to be near their only son. +The old lighthouse engineer, whose father had +built the Bell Rock, who had served under his +brother Alan in the building of Skerryvore, +"the noblest of all extant sea-lights," who had +himself erected Dhu Heartach, was now palpably +failing. The spectacle of a stern and +honest man slowly evacuating all that he had +held of personal strength, was, to his son Louis, +a poignantly pathetic one. Their disagreements +had been very many and deep-rooted, +dating from even before that "dreadful evening +walk" in Stevenson's youth, when, "on being +tightly cross-questioned," the lad who had been +trained for a civil engineer, and had "worked +in a carpenter's shop and had a brass foundry, +and hung about wood-yards and the like," confessed +that he cared for nothing but literature,—"no +profession!" as his father contemptuously +replied. They had differed on almost +every conceivable topic open to their discussion,—yet +here, in the fulness of time, they were at +peace together,—the austere old man in his +second childhood, and the chronic invalid who +"must live as though he were walking on +eggs." Innumerable ineffaceable traits of similarity +bound one to the other; at bottom of all the +bygone angers lay a permanent bedrock of +mutual love. And perhaps the nearing vision +of death which terminated all vistas for both of +them, exercised its usual effect, of calm, and +<i>laisser-faire</i>, and the equalisation of things: for +it is probable that no man has a just sense of +proportionate values until he stands in the +presence of death. +</p> + +<p> +Stevenson had often alluded, as a matter of +personal knowledge, to his constant prescience +of mortality, and how it affected a man's +thoughts of life. Very seldom has the view of +the confirmed invalid, the doomed consumptive, +been put forth to the world with the frankness +with which Stevenson invested it. He has +been sometimes charged with a certain lack of +reticence: but in this matter, unquestionably, +his candour was to the benefitting of mankind: +to whom these close views of the inevitable end +are rarely possible under such deliberate and +clear-headed conditions. +</p> + +<p> +There is nothing maudlin, nothing hypochondriacal, +about Stevenson's treatment of +this subject: the same cheerful philosophy +bears him up, the same vitality of joy. It is +hardly to be wondered at, that some critics +handled him seriously, on account of his +lightheartedness in the august shadow of the last +enemy,—and his inveterate optimism in the face +of all calamities. "He jests at scars who never +felt a wound," they practically told him,—and +could hardly be persuaded to credit the paradox +that the man who preached in season and out of +season, the gospel of that "cheery old Pagan, +Hope," was not a denizen of the open-air,—healthy, +athletic, vigorous, incapable of realising +the maladies incident to man,—instead of an +emaciated, bed-ridden creature, whose smallest +pleasures must be measured, so to speak, in a +medicine-glass. But, "It is something after +all," he has said, "to leave a brave example": +and in that he triumphantly succeeded. For +the opportunities of meteoric heroisms are few +and far between; but every hour beholds the +need of those obscurer braveries which may be +born of pain and suffering.... +</p> + +<p> +In <i>Ordered South</i> and other well-known +essays, he shows the gradual relaxation of the +ties which bind a man to terrestrial things,—and +the curiously significant alteration in his +regard for the facts of life,—from the sower in +the dank spring furrows, to the sight of little +children with their long possibilities before them. +</p> + +<p> +Stevenson had no children of his own. +His stepson, Lloyd Osbourne, then at school in +Bournemouth, was destined to become his +friend and collaborator: but it is doubtful that +he cared for children as such. The average +small folk, "dragged about in a pleasing stupor +by nurses," were very far remote from that +superabundant vitality nursed in an attenuated +physique, which had sat up with a shawl over +its shoulders, so many tedious months in +childhood, when its principal <i>habitat</i> was "The Land +of Counterpane" and other regions mapped +out in the great and glorious world of Make-Believe. +</p> + +<p><br /></p> + +<p class="noindent"> +<i>Painting by W. Hatherell.</i> +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +ST. IVES DESCENDS FROM EDINBURGH CASTLE. +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +"The whole forces of my mind were so consumed<br /> +with losing hold and getting it again, that I<br /> +could scarce have told whether I was going up<br /> +or coming down." +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +<i>St. Ives.</i> +</p> + +<p><br /></p> + +<p class="capcenter"> +<a id="img-038-t"></a> +<a href="images/img-038.jpg"> +<img class="imgcenter" src="images/img-038-t.jpg" alt="St. Ives" /> +</a> +<br /> +<i>St. Ives</i> +</p> + +<p><br /></p> + +<p> +For this reason, the <i>Child's Garden of Verses</i> +is not, in any real sense of the word, a child's +book at all. It contains the exquisite +imaginations of childhood as the grown-up man +remembers them: to him they have the charm of +the vanished past, they are the utterances of +one who has also lived in Arcadia. But to the +child, they are the very commonplaces of +existence. To sway to and fro in a swing, +"the pleasantest thing a child can do,"—to +bring home treasures from field and wood, nuts +and wooden whistles, and some all-precious +unidentifiable stone, "though father denies it, +I'm sure it is gold,"—these are everyday affairs +to the country-child,—just as watching the +lamplighter is to the town child. To read +verses about them is but a waste of time, when +one might be actively engaged in similar +avocations. But to the grown-man who can never +play with wooden soldiers in the garden, never +be a pirate any more,—these reminiscences of +Stevenson's are a delight unfailing. No one +else has ever worded them quite so accurately, +quite so simply: and, taken all for all, they are +in themselves a summing-up of that most +excellent philosophy of this author, "The +world is so full of a number of things, I'm sure +we should all be as happy as kings!" The +world was indeed full of a number of things to +R.L.S. and,—passed through the crucible of +his own astonishing personality,—they were +all, bad or good, transmogrified into things +that make for joy. +</p> + +<p> +After eight o'clock dinner was over, the +old folks bade good-night,—the father, with +touching affection, kissing Louis as though he +were a child, and murmuring, "You'll see me +in the morning, dearie," as if still addressing +that little feeble creature who had been kept +alive with such difficulty in the old days at +Edinburgh. +</p> + +<p> +The younger man returned to the piano-forte; +it drew him like a magnet. For a short +time he indulged in his desultory music-making, +relishing to the uttermost every success of +sound which he achieved: and the happiness, +which was his theory of life, radiated in warm +abundance from his richly-tinted face and +glowing eyes. "It's a fine life," he exclaimed. +</p> + +<p> +At last the day's supply of energy succumbed +before the imperious demands of this +"fiery threadpaper of a man," and in deference +to his wife's suggestion he betook himself to bed. +Not necessarily to rest; for even in his dreams +his busy brain was working, and his "Brownies," +as he termed them, bringing him fresh material +for plots. <i>Dr. Jekyll</i> had been thus evolved from +three scenes dreamed successively in detail, from +which the dreamer waked with cries of horror. +</p> + +<p> +But he did not flinch before the coming +night, and anything that it might bring of +sickness or unrest. He thought alone upon the +past delightful day, fraught with strenuous work +and simple pleasures; and he petitioned, in his +own words: +</p> + +<p class="poem"> + "If I have faltered more or less<br /> + In my great task of happiness;<br /> + If I have moved along my race<br /> + And shown no glorious morning face;<br /> + If beams from happy human eyes<br /> + Have moved me not; if morning skies,<br /> + Books, and my food, and summer rain<br /> + Knocked on my sullen heart in vain:—<br /> + Lord, Thy most pointed pleasure take<br /> + And stab my spirit broad awake!"<br /> + (<i>Underwoods.</i>)<br /> +</p> + +<p><br /></p> + +<p> +His wife hovered around him with gentle +ministrations, as suddenly out-wearied, Robert +Louis Stevenson extended his long, lean form +to a possible repose. There was not, perhaps, +a cheerfuller man that night in England. +</p> + +<p> +The sea hummed at the foot of the chine, +with that soft and dove-like purring of the +South-coast sea; the doves made answer with +a vibrant cooing in the middle distance of the +twilight garden. Spring buds of pear-trees and +cherry-trees globed themselves stealthily into +blossom; a delicate latent energy was +consciously present in the air—the rising of sap +and revivification of seed, all the mysterious +hidden progresses of April. And the man +whose ways were set in a perpetual +convergence towards the doors of death, waved, +so to speak, a blithe recognition to the myriad +hosts of life. +</p> + +<p> +"O toiling hands of mortals! O unwearied +feet, travelling ye know not whither! Soon, +soon, it seems to you, you must come forth on +some conspicuous hilltop, and but a little way +further, against the setting sun, descry the +spires of El Dorado. Little do ye know your +own blessedness; for to travel hopefully is a +better thing than to arrive, and the true success +is labour." (<i>Virginibus Puerisque.</i>) +</p> + +<p><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<p> +The author desires to acknowledge the +kindness of Messrs. Cassell & Co., in allowing +short extracts to be made from <i>The Master of +Ballantrae</i>, <i>The Wrecker</i>, and <i>Catriona</i>; also to +thank Mr. William Heinemann for a similar +courtesy with regard to <i>St. Ives</i>, and +Messrs. Chatto & Windus for their permission to +include various quotations from <i>Virginibus +Puerisque</i>, <i>Underwoods</i>, and <i>Prince Otto</i>. +</p> + +<p><br /><br /></p> + +<p class="t4"> + Printed by The Bushey Colour Press (André & Sleigh, Ltd.),<br /> + Bushey, Herts., England.<br /> +</p> + +<p><br /><br /></p> + +<p class="capcenter"> +<a id="img-cover-r"></a> +<img class="imgcenter" src="images/img-cover-r.jpg" alt="Rear cover" /> +<br /> +Rear cover +</p> + +<p><br /><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 53165 ***</div> +</body> + +</html> + diff --git a/53165-8.txt b/old/53165-8.txt index 8937cbe..ce36028 100644 --- a/53165-8.txt +++ b/old/53165-8.txt @@ -1,1146 +1,1146 @@ -Project Gutenberg's A Day with Robert Louis Stevenson, by Maurice Clare
-
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-
-Title: A Day with Robert Louis Stevenson
-
-Author: Maurice Clare
-
-Release Date: September 28, 2016 [EBook #53165]
-
-Language: English
-
-Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
-
-*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A DAY WITH ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON ***
-
-
-
-
-Produced by Al Haines
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-[Illustration: Cover art]
-
-
-
-
-[Illustration: Robert Louis Stevenson]
-
-
-
-
-_Painting by W. Hatherell._
-
- "Took down the folds of her hair--shook it
- round her face and the pool repeated her
- thus veiled."
-
-_Prince Otto._
-
-[Illustration: _Prince Otto_]
-
-
-
-
- A DAY WITH
- ROBERT LOUIS
- STEVENSON
-
-
- BY MAURICE CLARE
-
-
-
- LONDON
- HODDER & STOUGHTON
- 1910
-
-
-
-
- _In the same Series.
- Dickens.
- Thackeray._
-
-
-
-
-A DAY WITH STEVENSON.
-
-
-Supposing that in the month of April, 1886, you had arrived, a guest
-foreseen, at the pleasant ivy-muffled dwelling in Bournemouth, which
-had recently adopted the name of Skerryvore, and that you had been
-permitted to enter its doors--you might account yourself a somewhat
-favoured person. For the master of the house, "that rickety and
-cloistered spectre," as he termed himself, the "pallid brute who lived
-in Skerryvore like a weevil in a biscuit," might be invisible for the
-nonce--shut upstairs, forbidden even to speak for fear of inducing
-hemorrhage. Or again, you might yourself be afflicted with an obvious
-cold: in which case you would not be admitted into his presence, lest
-you left contagion of that cold.
-
-But if fate befriended you, you would chance upon the most remarkable
-personality, it might be, that you had yet encountered. A lean, long
-flat-chested man, gracefully emphatic of gesture--pacing up and down
-the room as he talked--burning with hectic energy--a man of rich brown
-tints in hair and eyes and skin: mutable, mirthful, brilliant--above
-all "vital," as he had described himself, "wholly vital with a buoyance
-of life" which had upborne him hitherto over the crest of most
-tumultuous distresses.
-
-Robert Louis Stevenson was now thirty-six years old: and ever since his
-sixth year, when, as his mother recorded in her diary, he dreamed that
-he "heard the noise of pens writing," his aim had been set unswervingly
-toward the one goal. Born of a strong and strenuous family, the great
-lighthouse builders of the north, he was not, like them, intent upon
-the subjugation of obstinate stone, the ordering and ordaining of rocks
-and seas. Dhu Heartach and the Bell Rock and Skerryvore he could
-admire at a distance: but the material which cried aloud to him for
-mastery, was much more plastic,--yet, to him, no less stubborn. "I
-imagine," he declared, "nobody ever had such pains to learn a trade as
-I had; but I slogged at it day in and day out." His fastidious soul
-refused to be contented with a facile and slipshod utterance. A
-passionate quest: after _le mot propre_, which had led him, in his own
-phrase, to "play the sedulus ape" to all the great prose writers of the
-past--and a sense of style such as no man had ever so anxiously and
-assiduously developed in himself--these had achieved their own reward.
-"'Thanks to my dire industry," said Stevenson, "I have done more with
-smaller gifts than almost any man of letters in the world."
-
-And this was a just pride: for there was no branch of literature in
-which he could not admirably acquit himself. So many years a struggler
-in obscurity, with small hopes, few successes, little
-encouragement--battling with continuous and crippling maladies,--this
-indomitable artist, by sheer dint of "dire industry," now suddenly
-stood forth in full blaze of public recognition. The author of
-_Virginibus Puerisque_, _Treasure Island_, _Prince Otto_, _The Child's
-Garden of Verse_, and _Dr. Jekyll_, was very much a man to be reckoned
-with.
-
-Probably few modern books have met with such instantaneous and
-triumphant success as _Treasure Island_ and _Dr. Jekyll_. The first,
-after running its course, unannounced and comparatively unrecognized,
-the serial of an obscure author, in _Young Folks' Paper_, was published
-in book form,--and Stevenson, like Byron, "awoke to find himself
-famous." The honours which he had failed to obtain with all the dainty
-humour, all the valiant fatalism, of _Virginibus Puerisque_, had been
-accorded without stint to _Treasure Island_. It was a tense and
-stimulating piece of pure adventure. The authentic air of the
-eighteenth century breathed through every sentence of it: and its fine
-flavour of dare-devil romance kindled even sober statesmen, such as Mr.
-Gladstone, to a very furore of avidity in devouring its breathless
-pages.
-
-As for _Dr. Jekyll_, that gruesome work--literally the product of a
-nightmare--had been quoted in pulpits, discussed in newspapers, read by
-everybody,--it had taken the world by storm. Yet Stevenson's head was
-not turned by his tardily-won success: with his customary _sang froid_,
-he took things as they came, failures and triumphs, and met each alike
-with smiling gallantry.
-
-The motives which had led him into authorship--or rather forced him,
-despite all stress and hindrance of froward circumstances,--were as
-curiously varied as his own nature; and it was these motives which
-still drove him hard and incessantly. To fame he was perhaps not
-wholly indifferent. No author sits so austerely aloft as to disdain
-popular applause altogether. Yet a born stylist and a conscious
-artist, like Stevenson, knew that his most finished work was above and
-beyond the appreciation of the general public. For money,--though it
-was a necessity of life to him, and although, with all his recent
-triumphs, he was not at present earning more than £400 a year,--for
-money he did not care, except as a means to an end. "Wealth is only
-useful for two things," he said, "a yacht and a string quartet. Except
-for these, I hold that £700 a year is as much as a man can possibly
-want." Still, in declaring, "I do not write for the public," he added
-with engaging candour, "I do write for money, a nobler deity," and
-this, to a certain extent was true. It was for money only, no doubt,
-that he was now undertaking, against the grain, that "romance of
-tushery," _The Black Arrow_, a tale with a mediæval setting in which he
-felt himself ill at ease. But "most of all," he allowed, "I write for
-myself; not perhaps any more noble, but both more intelligent and
-nearer home."
-
-And that a man in such difficulties of health and finance, and so
-precarious a position, should have the courage of his own determined
-artistry, was in itself sufficiently remarkable: but the result more
-than justified his choice.
-
-All the morning, Stevenson had been upstairs writing: probably after a
-bad night; very likely in what any other man would term a totally unfit
-condition. Under any and all circumstances, he continued to write
-unflinchingly; racked by coughing, reeling with weakness, with his
-right arm in a sling, and his left hand holding the pen,--sitting up in
-bed with a clinical thermometer in his mouth; and yet, as he declared,
-"I like my life all the same ... I should bear false witness if I did
-not declare life happy." ... He was, in his own words, "made for a
-contest, and the powers have so willed that my battlefield should be
-this dingy, inglorious one of the bed and the physic bottle."
-
-"To declare life happy," became, in fact, his literary mission,--the
-condensed philosophy of his gay, inveterate courage. "I believe that
-literature should give joy," was his maxim, "one dank, dispirited word
-is harmful,--a crime of _lèse-humanité_." This brave and cheerful
-outlook is evident in all his essays,--it is, so to speak, a glorified
-and artistic Mark-Tapleyism, all-pervading, unimpugnable, ready to
-survive the most malevolent accidents of life, the crowning tragedy of
-death itself. And so you find the "chronic sickist," as he termed
-himself, still ready, in all but body, for great risks and inspiriting
-adventures, and--through a mist of pain--leading forlorn hopes with a
-waving sword of flame. You hear him proclaiming that:
-
-"All who have meant good work with their whole hearts, have done good
-work, although they may die before they have the time to sign it.
-Every heart that has beat strong and cheerfully has left a hopeful
-impulse behind it in the world, and bettered the tradition of mankind.
-And even if death catch people, like an open pitfall, and in
-mid-career, laying out vast projects, and planning monstrous
-foundations, flushed with hope, and their mouths full of boastful
-language, they should be at once tripped up and silenced; is there not
-something brave and spirited in such a termination? and does not life
-go down with a better grace, foaming in full body over a precipice,
-than miserable struggling to an end in sandy deltas?" (_Virginibus
-Puerisque_.)
-
-And to him, above all, applied his own triumphant lines, those which he
-addressed to W. E. Henley, another writer, a man of like courageous
-outlook, who, like himself, "in the fell grip of circumstances, had not
-winced nor cried aloud:
-
- "... Small the pipe; but oh! do thou,
- Peak-faced and suffering piper, blow therein
- The dirge of heroes dead; and to these sick,
- These dying, sound the triumph over death.
- Behold! each greatly breathes; each tastes a joy
- Unknown before in dying; for each knows
- A hero dies with him--though unfulfilled,
- Yet conquering truly--and not dies in vain."
-
-
-At present he was engaged upon _Kidnapped_, that admirable piece of
-fiction which he had begun, "partly as a lark and partly as a
-pot-boiler." It was a relief, after the concentrated horror of _Dr.
-Jekyll_, to escape into the Scottish heather-scent and to feel the salt
-sea-wind whistling through the cordage of _Kidnapped_.
-
-
-_Painting by W. Hatherell._
-
- "She stood on the bulwarks and held on by a
- stay, the wind blowing in her petticoats.
-
-_Catriona._
-
-[Illustration: _Catriona_]
-
-
-Stevenson was desirous to "get free of this prison-yard of the
-abominably ugly, where I take my daily exercise with my
-contemporaries." Possibly he recognised that the amazing popularity of
-_Jekyll_ had been due to the morbid attractiveness of its subject,
-rather than to its merits of craftsmanship; for, as he had averred, "I
-know that good work sometimes hits; but, with my hand on my heart, I
-think it is an accident." But now he was at liberty to give play to
-his infinite variety upon a true boys' book,--a story to satisfy the
-inveterate boyishness of his own heart. "Of the romance of boyhood and
-adolescence, it has been said, he is an unsurpassed master ... the
-philosophy of life developed in both his essays and romances is that
-rather of a gifted boy than a mature man." (J. W. Mackail.) And even
-the girls of Stevenson's imagination have been accused of being "boys
-in petticoats." The phrase has reason. "I have never admired a girl,"
-he wrote, and again, "I have never pleased myself with any women of
-mine." The other sex remained for him, throughout, a mystery which he
-hardly cared to solve,--a sealed book which he was not desirous to
-open. "Of the two eternal factors in the destiny of man, warfare and
-love," although he allowed that "to love is the great amulet which
-makes the world a garden," he preferred to deal almost exclusively with
-the warfare.
-
-And yet one women had played a very important part in Stevenson's life:
-and it was practically with his marriage that the tide of his fortunes
-had changed. His wife,--"trusty, dusky, vivid, true," was his very
-_alter ego_: with "a character" (to quote Mr. Sidney Colvin) "as
-strong, interesting, and romantic almost as his own: an inseparable
-sharer of all his thoughts, the most shrewd and stimulating of critics:
-and in sickness, despite her own precarious health, the most devoted
-and most efficient of nurses." To while away the weary hours of
-illness, Mrs. Stevenson made up stories to amuse him,--and subsequently
-the husband and wife would write them out together. She, with her
-"eyes of gold and bramble-dew," was literally all-in-all to him as
-companion, helpmate, friend;--and far--how infinitely far!--above the
-ideal wife whom he had described so adroitly,--in his bachelor
-days,--that woman who should have "a fine touch for the affections,"
-and who should at least be sufficiently talented to avoid boring her
-life-long comrade. The character of the ideal wife, as there
-indicated,--apt at gracious compromises, possessor of a cheerful fluent
-tongue,--was very obviously set forth by a man who had never yet been
-stirred by the sharp throbs of an imperative emotion. And now that
-Stevenson realised what love in its depth and breadth might mean, it
-held a certain sanctity for him,--he was loth to speak of it, as to
-write of it. It was a marvel that had befallen him personally: but for
-other people, it might still perhaps, be no more than that gentle
-domesticated affection which he had portrayed with such amiable humour.
-But there was one point in which he, consciously or unconsciously
-insisted, in his _desiderata_ of the female character.
-
-"It always warms a man," he had declared, "to see a woman brave," and
-he saw it daily in his wife. Therefore it came about, that, unversed
-in women--as Stevenson unquestionably was, he was able to endow his
-heroines with a touch of gallant boyishness, a hint of the heroic--and
-if they failed in flesh-and-blood-_vraisemblance_, they had that
-"steel-true, blade-straight" quality which he adored in the women he
-had chosen.
-
-You will notice this courageous virtue in all of them, rich and poor;
-from _Catriona_, that "tall, pretty, tender figure of a maiden, when,
-having assured her father's escape from prison by a bold stratagem, she
-arrives a fugitive and an exile at Helvoetsluys, and lands from the
-staggering side of the _Rose_ into the little boat below;--when, in
-David Balfour's words:
-
-"I began to think I had made a fool's bargain, that it was merely
-impossible Catriona should be got on board to me, and that I stood to
-be set ashore in Helvoet all by myself ... But this was to reckon
-without the lass's courage ... Up she stood on the bulwarks and held by
-a stay, the wind blowing in her petticoats, which made the enterprise
-more dangerous, and gave us rather more a view of her stockings than
-would be thought genteel in cities"--(_Catriona._)
-
-to Seraphina in _Prince Otto_, still inherently valorous in that
-desperate flight through the forest: where:
-
-"At length when she was well weary, she came upon a wide and shallow
-pool. Stones stood in it, like islands; bulrushes fringed the coast;
-the floor was paved with pine needles; and the pines themselves, whose
-roots made promontories, looked down silently on their green images.
-She crept to the margin and beheld herself with wonder, a hollow and
-bright-eyed phantom, in the ruins of her palace robe ... She addressed
-herself to make a toilette by that forest mirror, washed herself pure
-from all the stains of her adventure, took off her jewels and wrapped
-them in her handkerchief, re-arranged the tatters of her dress, and
-took down the folds of her hair. She shook it round her face, and the
-pool repeated her thus veiled." (_Prince Otto._)
-
-Clara Huddlestone, in the _Pavilion on the Links_, repeats the same
-undauntable note: Olalla is inexorable in moral courage of
-renunciation, even the weeping Blanche, in the _Sieur de Malétroit's
-Door_, has the mettle of some small creature at bay.
-
-The charm of Stevenson's heroines is, in short, a cold charm; nor does
-he often accord them the assistance of a personal description. But
-they are finely tempered, of the best Toledo steel, and owing to their
-boyish character, there is no very obvious gap in those novels where
-they are conspicuously absent, such as _The Ebb Tide_, _The Wreckers_,
-and _The Master of Ballantrae_. In the latter, indeed, there is a
-slight "female interest," but a stronger personality in the heroine
-must inevitably have changed or coloured the whole course of the book:
-and one cannot but detect a certain vacuum, where at least some emotion
-might have lifted a haggard head, in the character of Mrs. Henry,--even
-in that scene, surcharged with hidden explosive possibilities, when the
-author describes how:
-
-"The Master played upon that little ballad, and upon those who heard
-him, like an instrument, and seemed now upon the point of failing, and
-now to conquer his distress, so that the words and music seemed to pour
-out of his own heart and his own past, and to be aimed directly at Mrs.
-Henry.... When it came to an end we all sat silent for a time: he had
-chosen the dusk of the afternoon, so that none could see his
-neighbour's face: but it seemed as if we held our breathing: only my
-old lord cleared his throat. The first to move was the singer, who got
-to his feet suddenly and softly, and went and walked softly to and fro
-in the low end of the hall." (_The Master of Ballantrae._)
-
-
-But Mrs. Henry plays a very minor part in the marring or making, here,
-of two men's lives: it is a rôle of _vis inertiæ_ at best. And,
-indeed, when all is said, what shall a petticoat be if not irrelevant,
-among the clash of steel and smoke of pistols, in an atmosphere
-permeated by Spanish doubloons or illicit piratical treasure?
-Stevenson's infallible artistic instinct led him to keep the
-adventure-story pendant upon the deeds of men, and the eager mistakes
-of boys; and a certain curious penchant for the squalid, the submerged,
-the picturesque, brought him by choice into such company as no heroine
-should enter--that of Villon, for instance, and John Silver, and
-Herrick the cockney vagabond. "The spice of life is battle," he said;
-and his life, and his books, were brimful of battles with foes or with
-fortune.
-
-
-_Painting by W. Hatherell._
-
- "'The words and music seemed to pour out of
- his own heart and his own past and to be
- aimed directly at Mrs. Henry."
-
-_Master of Ballantrae._
-
-[Illustration: _Master of Ballantrae_]
-
-
-The open-air life which he had perforce abandoned, the joy of physical
-strength and hair-breadth 'scape, could still be his by proxy. He
-revelled in delineating his ideal man:
-
-"Being a true lover of living, a fellow with something pushing and
-spontaneous in his inside, he must, like any other soldier, in any
-other stirring, deadly warfare, push on at his best pace until he touch
-the goal. 'A peerage or Westminster Abbey!' cried Nelson in his
-bright, boyish, heroic manner. These are great incentives; not for any
-of these, but for the plain satisfaction of living, of being about
-their business in some sort or other, do the brave, serviceable men of
-every nation tread down the nettle danger, and pass flyingly over all
-the stumbling-blocks of prudence." (_Virginibus Puerisque._)
-
-
-The tramp of horse-hoofs, the clank of the capstan, the door ajar--a
-thousand sights and sounds were but symbolisms to him of some
-mysterious by-way of adventure to be followed up, quick with latent
-possibilities of romance; and from one word, one name, he could evolve
-a whole intricate plot. With the simplest of sentences, he could
-electrify the startled reader, as when in _The Wrecker_, where the
-desperate castaways sit gambling on the desert island, and one suddenly
-cries aloud, "Sail ho!"
-
-"All turned at the cry,--and there, in the wild light of the morning,
-heading straight for Midway Reef, was the brig _Flying Scud_ of Hull."
-(_The Wrecker._)
-
-
-On that moment the whole tale hangs as on a pivot. All its involution
-and evolution, all its intricate and tangled clues, lead--backwards or
-forwards--to this one swift breathless sight.
-
-His morning's work accomplished, the tall gaunt man came downstairs,
-literally to play awhile. After weeks, it might be, of enforced
-seclusion in his room, his eye rested pleasurably upon the various
-attractive objects which almost seemed like new to him.
-Stevenson,--the avowed evader of personal property, the rolling-stone
-that had so long refused to gather moss,--was now, under a woman's
-tender surveillance, surrounded with charm and comfort. "Our drawing
-room," he maintained, "is a place so beautiful that it's like eating to
-sit down in it. No other room is so lovely in the world ... I blush
-for the figure I cut in such a bower." The garden, Mrs. Stevenson's
-special pleasure, but one in which her husband did not share, was very
-lovely, with a lawn, and heather-bank, and a half-acre of land, where a
-little stream ran down a "chine" full of rhododendrons. A large
-dovecot figured in the garden; and there also "Boguey," the Stevensons'
-dog, was buried, to whom no other dog had ever been deemed a worthy
-successor.
-
-Stevenson, his clothes hanging loosely on his emaciated figure, and his
-hands--"wonderful hands--long and fragile, like those in the early
-portraits of Velasquez," lingered lovingly over the keys. For a while
-he amused himself by picking out, note by note, the old-world dance
-measures of Lully and Rameau; those gavottes, rigadoons and minuets,
-which conveyed to him the indefinable _pot-pourri_-like, flavour of his
-favourite eighteenth century, embued with a certain stately dignity,
-"the periwig feeling," he called it, as of lords and ladies treading
-courtly measures. Stevenson was passionately fond of classical music,
-but he had never attained to any facility of execution. And when he
-grew tired with his efforts as an interpreter of Lully, he turned to
-"pickling," as he called it--composing, that is to say, after a
-fashion, with "the manly and melodious forefinger." The fact that he
-had invariably failed to master the rudiments of theory, in no wise
-deterred him; on the contrary, difficulties rather enhanced his
-delight. "Books are of no use," he avowed, "they tell you how to write
-in four parts, and that cannot be done by man." So he continued to
-"pickle" with a light heart, and to enjoy consecutive fifths and other
-theoretical delinquencies with an enthusiasm worthy of the most modern
-composer.
-
-Nothing but the lunch hour brought his musical experiments to a close.
-Stevenson, who had, in his own words, "been obliged to strip himself,
-one after another, of all the pleasures that he had chosen, except
-smoking" (and indeed, he was smoking cigarettes all day long) by no
-means disdained the pleasures of the table. Not, perhaps, in the role
-of a gourmet--but as an artist in the more recondite delicacies of
-taste and smell. "To detect the flavour of an olive is no less a piece
-of human perfection than to find beauty in the colours of a sunset," he
-observed; he coupled the flavour of wine with the beauty of the dawn,
-and declared that we do not recognise at its full value the great part
-in life that is played by eating and drinking. "There is a romance
-about the matter after all," he observed. "Probably the table has more
-devotees than love; and I am sure food is more generally entertaining
-than scenery." It was the "romance of the matter" that appealed to
-him; especially the colour, and savour, and poetical tradition of wine.
-"Books, and tobacco jars, and some old Burgundy as red as a November
-sunset, and as fragrant as a violet in April"--these, he thought,
-should suffice the most luxurious.
-
-After lunch, if he anticipated an exhausting evening, he went to
-sleep--at a moment's notice--and after a short, sound repose, was as
-eager as ever to resume his pianoforte amusements; which he continued
-until friends arrived.
-
-At the age of four-and-twenty, Stevenson had noted down his three chief
-wishes. "First, good health: secondly, a small competence: thirdly, _O
-Du lieber Gott!_ friends." The first: wish was irrevocably denied: the
-second was only just beginning to be granted, the guerdon of unresting
-toil: the third petition had been abundantly answered. Never was a man
-more happy in his friends; or one who made them so instantaneously and
-without effort. "He had only to speak," said one friend, "in order to
-be recognised in the first minute for a witty and charming gentleman,
-and in the second, for a man of genius." Some, indeed, like Mr. Edmund
-Gosse, came home dazzled and astounded, saying, as Constance does of
-Arthur, "Was ever such a gracious creature born?" His expression, of
-mingled tenderness and mirth, his "scholarly and eclectic
-presence"--together with his picturesque, velvet-coated appearance, and
-his flashing flow of words, combined to make a man so attractive and so
-unique as could command all love at will. And the friends were very
-many and very notable, who haunted Skerryvore. First and foremost was
-"Bob," Mr. R. A. M. Stevenson, the poet's first cousin, the brilliant
-art critic: "the man likest and most unlike to me," as R.L.S. described
-him. "Bob's" sister, Mrs. de Mattos, and her child were frequent
-visitors; then there were celebrities from London: such as Sargent the
-painter, William Archer, Sidney Colvin, W. E. Henley, Henry James; and
-again friends residing in the neighbourhood of Bournemouth; the poet
-Sir Henry Taylor, and his family; Sir Percy Shelley and his wife.
-These latter, indeed, regarded Stevenson almost in the light of a son.
-He struck them as bearing an extraordinary resemblance to Percy Bysshe
-Shelley; less, perhaps, in lineaments than in figure and in mind; and
-in consequence of this similarity, they held him very dear.
-
-But to all he was the same bewildering charming host, the man who
-variously displayed, to quote W. E. Henley:
-
- "A deal of Ariel, just a streak of Puck,
- Much Antony, of Hamlet most of all,--"
-
-And combined with these curiously versatile fruits, "something of the
-Shorter Catechist."
-
-Generous in criticism, kind in praise, grave and humorous in rapid
-transition, the amazing scope and variety of Stevenson's writings were
-excelled by the scope and variety of his talk. "There was no part of
-the writer that was not visibly present in the man." (Graham Balfour.)
-He had laid down his opinion that "there can be no fairer ambition than
-to excel in talk; to be affable, gay, ready, clear and welcome." But
-none save those who were privileged to hear him, as with quick,
-impetuous gestures, like a Southern foreigner, he emphasised his
-phrases, could realise the power, the versatility, the inexpressible,
-irrepressible charm with which the author could fulfil his "fair
-ambition."
-
-When the visitors had severally taken their departure, the strong
-resonant voice, with its Scottish accent and rich, full tones still
-ringing in their ears,--Stevenson had suffered no abatement in the
-stream of his exuberant mental vitality. The excitement of
-conversation had, if anything, keyed him up; and presently, for the
-writing of a few unavoidable letters, he betook himself to his study;
-"the study where a smiling God beholds each day my stage of labour
-trod," and sate himself down there with reluctance.
-
-
-_Painting by W. Hatherell._
-
- "All turned at the cry, and there in the wild
- light of the morning heaving straight for
- midway reef was the brig _Flying Scud_ of
- Hull."
-
-_The Wrecker._
-
-[Illustration: _The Wrecker_]
-
-
-Correspondence, as a rule, he found but an irksome affair; unless
-conducted upon his own whimsical lines. "I deny that letters should
-contain news--I mean mine--those of other people should," was his
-theory; and he boasted himself of a "willingness to pour forth
-unmitigated rot, which constitutes in me the true spirit of
-correspondence." For all that, his letters, grave or gay, remain among
-the most delightful reading in existence; flavoured with his quaintest
-conceits, endowed with his most delicate turns of phrase, and often
-tempered with that "something of the Shorter Catechist" to which Henley
-had alluded.
-
-For, undoubtedly, as time went on, although Stevenson continued to
-"combine the face of a boy with the distinguished bearing of a man of
-the world," he was gradually exchanging the "streak of Puck" and the
-capricious unconventions of the born Bohemian, for something graver and
-more mature,--a tendency almost towards the didactic. "'Tis a strange
-world indeed," he had commented, "but there is a manifest God for those
-who care to look for Him." And now, "with the passing of years," he
-observed, "there grows more and more upon me that belief in the
-kindness of this scheme of things, and the goodness of our veiled God,
-which is an excellent and pacifying compensation." He was suffering,
-and in all probability would perpetually suffer, from "that sharp
-ferule of calamity under which we are all God's scholars till we die":
-but his patience was impregnable, and his desire to leave a brave
-example bore him constant company. "To suffer," said he, "sets a keen
-edge on what remains of the agreeable," and he prepared to enjoy with
-equal zest all pleasures which were still permitted to him.
-
-As he put away his writing materials, and descended once more to his
-beloved piano, his father and mother came in. They were living in
-Bournemouth to be near their only son. The old lighthouse engineer,
-whose father had built the Bell Rock, who had served under his brother
-Alan in the building of Skerryvore, "the noblest of all extant
-sea-lights," who had himself erected Dhu Heartach, was now palpably
-failing. The spectacle of a stern and honest man slowly evacuating all
-that he had held of personal strength, was, to his son Louis, a
-poignantly pathetic one. Their disagreements had been very many and
-deep-rooted, dating from even before that "dreadful evening walk" in
-Stevenson's youth, when, "on being tightly cross-questioned," the lad
-who had been trained for a civil engineer, and had "worked in a
-carpenter's shop and had a brass foundry, and hung about wood-yards and
-the like," confessed that he cared for nothing but literature,--"no
-profession!" as his father contemptuously replied. They had differed
-on almost every conceivable topic open to their discussion,--yet here,
-in the fulness of time, they were at peace together,--the austere old
-man in his second childhood, and the chronic invalid who "must live as
-though he were walking on eggs." Innumerable ineffaceable traits of
-similarity bound one to the other; at bottom of all the bygone angers
-lay a permanent bedrock of mutual love. And perhaps the nearing vision
-of death which terminated all vistas for both of them, exercised its
-usual effect, of calm, and _laisser-faire_, and the equalisation of
-things: for it is probable that no man has a just sense of
-proportionate values until he stands in the presence of death.
-
-Stevenson had often alluded, as a matter of personal knowledge, to his
-constant prescience of mortality, and how it affected a man's thoughts
-of life. Very seldom has the view of the confirmed invalid, the doomed
-consumptive, been put forth to the world with the frankness with which
-Stevenson invested it. He has been sometimes charged with a certain
-lack of reticence: but in this matter, unquestionably, his candour was
-to the benefitting of mankind: to whom these close views of the
-inevitable end are rarely possible under such deliberate and
-clear-headed conditions.
-
-There is nothing maudlin, nothing hypochondriacal, about Stevenson's
-treatment of this subject: the same cheerful philosophy bears him up,
-the same vitality of joy. It is hardly to be wondered at, that some
-critics handled him seriously, on account of his lightheartedness in
-the august shadow of the last enemy,--and his inveterate optimism in
-the face of all calamities. "He jests at scars who never felt a
-wound," they practically told him,--and could hardly be persuaded to
-credit the paradox that the man who preached in season and out of
-season, the gospel of that "cheery old Pagan, Hope," was not a denizen
-of the open-air,--healthy, athletic, vigorous, incapable of realising
-the maladies incident to man,--instead of an emaciated, bed-ridden
-creature, whose smallest pleasures must be measured, so to speak, in a
-medicine-glass. But, "It is something after all," he has said, "to
-leave a brave example": and in that he triumphantly succeeded. For the
-opportunities of meteoric heroisms are few and far between; but every
-hour beholds the need of those obscurer braveries which may be born of
-pain and suffering....
-
-In _Ordered South_ and other well-known essays, he shows the gradual
-relaxation of the ties which bind a man to terrestrial things,--and the
-curiously significant alteration in his regard for the facts of
-life,--from the sower in the dank spring furrows, to the sight of
-little children with their long possibilities before them.
-
-Stevenson had no children of his own. His stepson, Lloyd Osbourne,
-then at school in Bournemouth, was destined to become his friend and
-collaborator: but it is doubtful that he cared for children as such.
-The average small folk, "dragged about in a pleasing stupor by nurses,"
-were very far remote from that superabundant vitality nursed in an
-attenuated physique, which had sat up with a shawl over its shoulders,
-so many tedious months in childhood, when its principal _habitat_ was
-"The Land of Counterpane" and other regions mapped out in the great and
-glorious world of Make-Believe.
-
-
-_Painting by W. Hatherell._
-
-ST. IVES DESCENDS FROM EDINBURGH CASTLE.
-
- "The whole forces of my mind were so consumed
- with losing hold and getting it again, that I
- could scarce have told whether I was going up
- or coming down."
-
-_St. Ives._
-
-[Illustration: _St. Ives_]
-
-
-For this reason, the _Child's Garden of Verses_ is not, in any real
-sense of the word, a child's book at all. It contains the exquisite
-imaginations of childhood as the grown-up man remembers them: to him
-they have the charm of the vanished past, they are the utterances of
-one who has also lived in Arcadia. But to the child, they are the very
-commonplaces of existence. To sway to and fro in a swing, "the
-pleasantest thing a child can do,"--to bring home treasures from field
-and wood, nuts and wooden whistles, and some all-precious
-unidentifiable stone, "though father denies it, I'm sure it is
-gold,"--these are everyday affairs to the country-child,--just as
-watching the lamplighter is to the town child. To read verses about
-them is but a waste of time, when one might be actively engaged in
-similar avocations. But to the grown-man who can never play with
-wooden soldiers in the garden, never be a pirate any more,--these
-reminiscences of Stevenson's are a delight unfailing. No one else has
-ever worded them quite so accurately, quite so simply: and, taken all
-for all, they are in themselves a summing-up of that most excellent
-philosophy of this author, "The world is so full of a number of things,
-I'm sure we should all be as happy as kings!" The world was indeed
-full of a number of things to R.L.S. and,--passed through the crucible
-of his own astonishing personality,--they were all, bad or good,
-transmogrified into things that make for joy.
-
-After eight o'clock dinner was over, the old folks bade
-good-night,--the father, with touching affection, kissing Louis as
-though he were a child, and murmuring, "You'll see me in the morning,
-dearie," as if still addressing that little feeble creature who had
-been kept alive with such difficulty in the old days at Edinburgh.
-
-The younger man returned to the piano-forte; it drew him like a magnet.
-For a short time he indulged in his desultory music-making, relishing
-to the uttermost every success of sound which he achieved: and the
-happiness, which was his theory of life, radiated in warm abundance
-from his richly-tinted face and glowing eyes. "It's a fine life," he
-exclaimed.
-
-At last the day's supply of energy succumbed before the imperious
-demands of this "fiery threadpaper of a man," and in deference to his
-wife's suggestion he betook himself to bed. Not necessarily to rest;
-for even in his dreams his busy brain was working, and his "Brownies,"
-as he termed them, bringing him fresh material for plots. _Dr. Jekyll_
-had been thus evolved from three scenes dreamed successively in detail,
-from which the dreamer waked with cries of horror.
-
-But he did not flinch before the coming night, and anything that it
-might bring of sickness or unrest. He thought alone upon the past
-delightful day, fraught with strenuous work and simple pleasures; and
-he petitioned, in his own words:
-
- "If I have faltered more or less
- In my great task of happiness;
- If I have moved along my race
- And shown no glorious morning face;
- If beams from happy human eyes
- Have moved me not; if morning skies,
- Books, and my food, and summer rain
- Knocked on my sullen heart in vain:--
- Lord, Thy most pointed pleasure take
- And stab my spirit broad awake!"
- (_Underwoods._)
-
-
-His wife hovered around him with gentle ministrations, as suddenly
-out-wearied, Robert Louis Stevenson extended his long, lean form to a
-possible repose. There was not, perhaps, a cheerfuller man that night
-in England.
-
-The sea hummed at the foot of the chine, with that soft and dove-like
-purring of the South-coast sea; the doves made answer with a vibrant
-cooing in the middle distance of the twilight garden. Spring buds of
-pear-trees and cherry-trees globed themselves stealthily into blossom;
-a delicate latent energy was consciously present in the air--the rising
-of sap and revivification of seed, all the mysterious hidden progresses
-of April. And the man whose ways were set in a perpetual convergence
-towards the doors of death, waved, so to speak, a blithe recognition to
-the myriad hosts of life.
-
-"O toiling hands of mortals! O unwearied feet, travelling ye know not
-whither! Soon, soon, it seems to you, you must come forth on some
-conspicuous hilltop, and but a little way further, against the setting
-sun, descry the spires of El Dorado. Little do ye know your own
-blessedness; for to travel hopefully is a better thing than to arrive,
-and the true success is labour." (_Virginibus Puerisque._)
-
-
-
-The author desires to acknowledge the kindness of Messrs. Cassell &
-Co., in allowing short extracts to be made from _The Master of
-Ballantrae_, _The Wrecker_, and _Catriona_; also to thank Mr. William
-Heinemann for a similar courtesy with regard to _St. Ives_, and Messrs.
-Chatto & Windus for their permission to include various quotations from
-_Virginibus Puerisque_, _Underwoods_, and _Prince Otto_.
-
-
-
- Printed by The Bushey Colour Press (André & Sleigh, Ltd.),
- Bushey, Herts., England.
-
-
-
-
-[Illustration: Rear cover]
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-End of Project Gutenberg's A Day with Robert Louis Stevenson, by Maurice Clare
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+Project Gutenberg's A Day with Robert Louis Stevenson, by Maurice Clare + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most +other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions +whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of +the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at +www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have +to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. + +Title: A Day with Robert Louis Stevenson + +Author: Maurice Clare + +Release Date: September 28, 2016 [EBook #53165] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A DAY WITH ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON *** + + + + +Produced by Al Haines + + + + + + + + + +[Illustration: Cover art] + + + + +[Illustration: Robert Louis Stevenson] + + + + +_Painting by W. Hatherell._ + + "Took down the folds of her hair--shook it + round her face and the pool repeated her + thus veiled." + +_Prince Otto._ + +[Illustration: _Prince Otto_] + + + + + A DAY WITH + ROBERT LOUIS + STEVENSON + + + BY MAURICE CLARE + + + + LONDON + HODDER & STOUGHTON + 1910 + + + + + _In the same Series. + Dickens. + Thackeray._ + + + + +A DAY WITH STEVENSON. + + +Supposing that in the month of April, 1886, you had arrived, a guest +foreseen, at the pleasant ivy-muffled dwelling in Bournemouth, which +had recently adopted the name of Skerryvore, and that you had been +permitted to enter its doors--you might account yourself a somewhat +favoured person. For the master of the house, "that rickety and +cloistered spectre," as he termed himself, the "pallid brute who lived +in Skerryvore like a weevil in a biscuit," might be invisible for the +nonce--shut upstairs, forbidden even to speak for fear of inducing +hemorrhage. Or again, you might yourself be afflicted with an obvious +cold: in which case you would not be admitted into his presence, lest +you left contagion of that cold. + +But if fate befriended you, you would chance upon the most remarkable +personality, it might be, that you had yet encountered. A lean, long +flat-chested man, gracefully emphatic of gesture--pacing up and down +the room as he talked--burning with hectic energy--a man of rich brown +tints in hair and eyes and skin: mutable, mirthful, brilliant--above +all "vital," as he had described himself, "wholly vital with a buoyance +of life" which had upborne him hitherto over the crest of most +tumultuous distresses. + +Robert Louis Stevenson was now thirty-six years old: and ever since his +sixth year, when, as his mother recorded in her diary, he dreamed that +he "heard the noise of pens writing," his aim had been set unswervingly +toward the one goal. Born of a strong and strenuous family, the great +lighthouse builders of the north, he was not, like them, intent upon +the subjugation of obstinate stone, the ordering and ordaining of rocks +and seas. Dhu Heartach and the Bell Rock and Skerryvore he could +admire at a distance: but the material which cried aloud to him for +mastery, was much more plastic,--yet, to him, no less stubborn. "I +imagine," he declared, "nobody ever had such pains to learn a trade as +I had; but I slogged at it day in and day out." His fastidious soul +refused to be contented with a facile and slipshod utterance. A +passionate quest: after _le mot propre_, which had led him, in his own +phrase, to "play the sedulus ape" to all the great prose writers of the +past--and a sense of style such as no man had ever so anxiously and +assiduously developed in himself--these had achieved their own reward. +"'Thanks to my dire industry," said Stevenson, "I have done more with +smaller gifts than almost any man of letters in the world." + +And this was a just pride: for there was no branch of literature in +which he could not admirably acquit himself. So many years a struggler +in obscurity, with small hopes, few successes, little +encouragement--battling with continuous and crippling maladies,--this +indomitable artist, by sheer dint of "dire industry," now suddenly +stood forth in full blaze of public recognition. The author of +_Virginibus Puerisque_, _Treasure Island_, _Prince Otto_, _The Child's +Garden of Verse_, and _Dr. Jekyll_, was very much a man to be reckoned +with. + +Probably few modern books have met with such instantaneous and +triumphant success as _Treasure Island_ and _Dr. Jekyll_. The first, +after running its course, unannounced and comparatively unrecognized, +the serial of an obscure author, in _Young Folks' Paper_, was published +in book form,--and Stevenson, like Byron, "awoke to find himself +famous." The honours which he had failed to obtain with all the dainty +humour, all the valiant fatalism, of _Virginibus Puerisque_, had been +accorded without stint to _Treasure Island_. It was a tense and +stimulating piece of pure adventure. The authentic air of the +eighteenth century breathed through every sentence of it: and its fine +flavour of dare-devil romance kindled even sober statesmen, such as Mr. +Gladstone, to a very furore of avidity in devouring its breathless +pages. + +As for _Dr. Jekyll_, that gruesome work--literally the product of a +nightmare--had been quoted in pulpits, discussed in newspapers, read by +everybody,--it had taken the world by storm. Yet Stevenson's head was +not turned by his tardily-won success: with his customary _sang froid_, +he took things as they came, failures and triumphs, and met each alike +with smiling gallantry. + +The motives which had led him into authorship--or rather forced him, +despite all stress and hindrance of froward circumstances,--were as +curiously varied as his own nature; and it was these motives which +still drove him hard and incessantly. To fame he was perhaps not +wholly indifferent. No author sits so austerely aloft as to disdain +popular applause altogether. Yet a born stylist and a conscious +artist, like Stevenson, knew that his most finished work was above and +beyond the appreciation of the general public. For money,--though it +was a necessity of life to him, and although, with all his recent +triumphs, he was not at present earning more than £400 a year,--for +money he did not care, except as a means to an end. "Wealth is only +useful for two things," he said, "a yacht and a string quartet. Except +for these, I hold that £700 a year is as much as a man can possibly +want." Still, in declaring, "I do not write for the public," he added +with engaging candour, "I do write for money, a nobler deity," and +this, to a certain extent was true. It was for money only, no doubt, +that he was now undertaking, against the grain, that "romance of +tushery," _The Black Arrow_, a tale with a mediæval setting in which he +felt himself ill at ease. But "most of all," he allowed, "I write for +myself; not perhaps any more noble, but both more intelligent and +nearer home." + +And that a man in such difficulties of health and finance, and so +precarious a position, should have the courage of his own determined +artistry, was in itself sufficiently remarkable: but the result more +than justified his choice. + +All the morning, Stevenson had been upstairs writing: probably after a +bad night; very likely in what any other man would term a totally unfit +condition. Under any and all circumstances, he continued to write +unflinchingly; racked by coughing, reeling with weakness, with his +right arm in a sling, and his left hand holding the pen,--sitting up in +bed with a clinical thermometer in his mouth; and yet, as he declared, +"I like my life all the same ... I should bear false witness if I did +not declare life happy." ... He was, in his own words, "made for a +contest, and the powers have so willed that my battlefield should be +this dingy, inglorious one of the bed and the physic bottle." + +"To declare life happy," became, in fact, his literary mission,--the +condensed philosophy of his gay, inveterate courage. "I believe that +literature should give joy," was his maxim, "one dank, dispirited word +is harmful,--a crime of _lèse-humanité_." This brave and cheerful +outlook is evident in all his essays,--it is, so to speak, a glorified +and artistic Mark-Tapleyism, all-pervading, unimpugnable, ready to +survive the most malevolent accidents of life, the crowning tragedy of +death itself. And so you find the "chronic sickist," as he termed +himself, still ready, in all but body, for great risks and inspiriting +adventures, and--through a mist of pain--leading forlorn hopes with a +waving sword of flame. You hear him proclaiming that: + +"All who have meant good work with their whole hearts, have done good +work, although they may die before they have the time to sign it. +Every heart that has beat strong and cheerfully has left a hopeful +impulse behind it in the world, and bettered the tradition of mankind. +And even if death catch people, like an open pitfall, and in +mid-career, laying out vast projects, and planning monstrous +foundations, flushed with hope, and their mouths full of boastful +language, they should be at once tripped up and silenced; is there not +something brave and spirited in such a termination? and does not life +go down with a better grace, foaming in full body over a precipice, +than miserable struggling to an end in sandy deltas?" (_Virginibus +Puerisque_.) + +And to him, above all, applied his own triumphant lines, those which he +addressed to W. E. Henley, another writer, a man of like courageous +outlook, who, like himself, "in the fell grip of circumstances, had not +winced nor cried aloud: + + "... Small the pipe; but oh! do thou, + Peak-faced and suffering piper, blow therein + The dirge of heroes dead; and to these sick, + These dying, sound the triumph over death. + Behold! each greatly breathes; each tastes a joy + Unknown before in dying; for each knows + A hero dies with him--though unfulfilled, + Yet conquering truly--and not dies in vain." + + +At present he was engaged upon _Kidnapped_, that admirable piece of +fiction which he had begun, "partly as a lark and partly as a +pot-boiler." It was a relief, after the concentrated horror of _Dr. +Jekyll_, to escape into the Scottish heather-scent and to feel the salt +sea-wind whistling through the cordage of _Kidnapped_. + + +_Painting by W. Hatherell._ + + "She stood on the bulwarks and held on by a + stay, the wind blowing in her petticoats. + +_Catriona._ + +[Illustration: _Catriona_] + + +Stevenson was desirous to "get free of this prison-yard of the +abominably ugly, where I take my daily exercise with my +contemporaries." Possibly he recognised that the amazing popularity of +_Jekyll_ had been due to the morbid attractiveness of its subject, +rather than to its merits of craftsmanship; for, as he had averred, "I +know that good work sometimes hits; but, with my hand on my heart, I +think it is an accident." But now he was at liberty to give play to +his infinite variety upon a true boys' book,--a story to satisfy the +inveterate boyishness of his own heart. "Of the romance of boyhood and +adolescence, it has been said, he is an unsurpassed master ... the +philosophy of life developed in both his essays and romances is that +rather of a gifted boy than a mature man." (J. W. Mackail.) And even +the girls of Stevenson's imagination have been accused of being "boys +in petticoats." The phrase has reason. "I have never admired a girl," +he wrote, and again, "I have never pleased myself with any women of +mine." The other sex remained for him, throughout, a mystery which he +hardly cared to solve,--a sealed book which he was not desirous to +open. "Of the two eternal factors in the destiny of man, warfare and +love," although he allowed that "to love is the great amulet which +makes the world a garden," he preferred to deal almost exclusively with +the warfare. + +And yet one women had played a very important part in Stevenson's life: +and it was practically with his marriage that the tide of his fortunes +had changed. His wife,--"trusty, dusky, vivid, true," was his very +_alter ego_: with "a character" (to quote Mr. Sidney Colvin) "as +strong, interesting, and romantic almost as his own: an inseparable +sharer of all his thoughts, the most shrewd and stimulating of critics: +and in sickness, despite her own precarious health, the most devoted +and most efficient of nurses." To while away the weary hours of +illness, Mrs. Stevenson made up stories to amuse him,--and subsequently +the husband and wife would write them out together. She, with her +"eyes of gold and bramble-dew," was literally all-in-all to him as +companion, helpmate, friend;--and far--how infinitely far!--above the +ideal wife whom he had described so adroitly,--in his bachelor +days,--that woman who should have "a fine touch for the affections," +and who should at least be sufficiently talented to avoid boring her +life-long comrade. The character of the ideal wife, as there +indicated,--apt at gracious compromises, possessor of a cheerful fluent +tongue,--was very obviously set forth by a man who had never yet been +stirred by the sharp throbs of an imperative emotion. And now that +Stevenson realised what love in its depth and breadth might mean, it +held a certain sanctity for him,--he was loth to speak of it, as to +write of it. It was a marvel that had befallen him personally: but for +other people, it might still perhaps, be no more than that gentle +domesticated affection which he had portrayed with such amiable humour. +But there was one point in which he, consciously or unconsciously +insisted, in his _desiderata_ of the female character. + +"It always warms a man," he had declared, "to see a woman brave," and +he saw it daily in his wife. Therefore it came about, that, unversed +in women--as Stevenson unquestionably was, he was able to endow his +heroines with a touch of gallant boyishness, a hint of the heroic--and +if they failed in flesh-and-blood-_vraisemblance_, they had that +"steel-true, blade-straight" quality which he adored in the women he +had chosen. + +You will notice this courageous virtue in all of them, rich and poor; +from _Catriona_, that "tall, pretty, tender figure of a maiden, when, +having assured her father's escape from prison by a bold stratagem, she +arrives a fugitive and an exile at Helvoetsluys, and lands from the +staggering side of the _Rose_ into the little boat below;--when, in +David Balfour's words: + +"I began to think I had made a fool's bargain, that it was merely +impossible Catriona should be got on board to me, and that I stood to +be set ashore in Helvoet all by myself ... But this was to reckon +without the lass's courage ... Up she stood on the bulwarks and held by +a stay, the wind blowing in her petticoats, which made the enterprise +more dangerous, and gave us rather more a view of her stockings than +would be thought genteel in cities"--(_Catriona._) + +to Seraphina in _Prince Otto_, still inherently valorous in that +desperate flight through the forest: where: + +"At length when she was well weary, she came upon a wide and shallow +pool. Stones stood in it, like islands; bulrushes fringed the coast; +the floor was paved with pine needles; and the pines themselves, whose +roots made promontories, looked down silently on their green images. +She crept to the margin and beheld herself with wonder, a hollow and +bright-eyed phantom, in the ruins of her palace robe ... She addressed +herself to make a toilette by that forest mirror, washed herself pure +from all the stains of her adventure, took off her jewels and wrapped +them in her handkerchief, re-arranged the tatters of her dress, and +took down the folds of her hair. She shook it round her face, and the +pool repeated her thus veiled." (_Prince Otto._) + +Clara Huddlestone, in the _Pavilion on the Links_, repeats the same +undauntable note: Olalla is inexorable in moral courage of +renunciation, even the weeping Blanche, in the _Sieur de Malétroit's +Door_, has the mettle of some small creature at bay. + +The charm of Stevenson's heroines is, in short, a cold charm; nor does +he often accord them the assistance of a personal description. But +they are finely tempered, of the best Toledo steel, and owing to their +boyish character, there is no very obvious gap in those novels where +they are conspicuously absent, such as _The Ebb Tide_, _The Wreckers_, +and _The Master of Ballantrae_. In the latter, indeed, there is a +slight "female interest," but a stronger personality in the heroine +must inevitably have changed or coloured the whole course of the book: +and one cannot but detect a certain vacuum, where at least some emotion +might have lifted a haggard head, in the character of Mrs. Henry,--even +in that scene, surcharged with hidden explosive possibilities, when the +author describes how: + +"The Master played upon that little ballad, and upon those who heard +him, like an instrument, and seemed now upon the point of failing, and +now to conquer his distress, so that the words and music seemed to pour +out of his own heart and his own past, and to be aimed directly at Mrs. +Henry.... When it came to an end we all sat silent for a time: he had +chosen the dusk of the afternoon, so that none could see his +neighbour's face: but it seemed as if we held our breathing: only my +old lord cleared his throat. The first to move was the singer, who got +to his feet suddenly and softly, and went and walked softly to and fro +in the low end of the hall." (_The Master of Ballantrae._) + + +But Mrs. Henry plays a very minor part in the marring or making, here, +of two men's lives: it is a rôle of _vis inertiæ_ at best. And, +indeed, when all is said, what shall a petticoat be if not irrelevant, +among the clash of steel and smoke of pistols, in an atmosphere +permeated by Spanish doubloons or illicit piratical treasure? +Stevenson's infallible artistic instinct led him to keep the +adventure-story pendant upon the deeds of men, and the eager mistakes +of boys; and a certain curious penchant for the squalid, the submerged, +the picturesque, brought him by choice into such company as no heroine +should enter--that of Villon, for instance, and John Silver, and +Herrick the cockney vagabond. "The spice of life is battle," he said; +and his life, and his books, were brimful of battles with foes or with +fortune. + + +_Painting by W. Hatherell._ + + "'The words and music seemed to pour out of + his own heart and his own past and to be + aimed directly at Mrs. Henry." + +_Master of Ballantrae._ + +[Illustration: _Master of Ballantrae_] + + +The open-air life which he had perforce abandoned, the joy of physical +strength and hair-breadth 'scape, could still be his by proxy. He +revelled in delineating his ideal man: + +"Being a true lover of living, a fellow with something pushing and +spontaneous in his inside, he must, like any other soldier, in any +other stirring, deadly warfare, push on at his best pace until he touch +the goal. 'A peerage or Westminster Abbey!' cried Nelson in his +bright, boyish, heroic manner. These are great incentives; not for any +of these, but for the plain satisfaction of living, of being about +their business in some sort or other, do the brave, serviceable men of +every nation tread down the nettle danger, and pass flyingly over all +the stumbling-blocks of prudence." (_Virginibus Puerisque._) + + +The tramp of horse-hoofs, the clank of the capstan, the door ajar--a +thousand sights and sounds were but symbolisms to him of some +mysterious by-way of adventure to be followed up, quick with latent +possibilities of romance; and from one word, one name, he could evolve +a whole intricate plot. With the simplest of sentences, he could +electrify the startled reader, as when in _The Wrecker_, where the +desperate castaways sit gambling on the desert island, and one suddenly +cries aloud, "Sail ho!" + +"All turned at the cry,--and there, in the wild light of the morning, +heading straight for Midway Reef, was the brig _Flying Scud_ of Hull." +(_The Wrecker._) + + +On that moment the whole tale hangs as on a pivot. All its involution +and evolution, all its intricate and tangled clues, lead--backwards or +forwards--to this one swift breathless sight. + +His morning's work accomplished, the tall gaunt man came downstairs, +literally to play awhile. After weeks, it might be, of enforced +seclusion in his room, his eye rested pleasurably upon the various +attractive objects which almost seemed like new to him. +Stevenson,--the avowed evader of personal property, the rolling-stone +that had so long refused to gather moss,--was now, under a woman's +tender surveillance, surrounded with charm and comfort. "Our drawing +room," he maintained, "is a place so beautiful that it's like eating to +sit down in it. No other room is so lovely in the world ... I blush +for the figure I cut in such a bower." The garden, Mrs. Stevenson's +special pleasure, but one in which her husband did not share, was very +lovely, with a lawn, and heather-bank, and a half-acre of land, where a +little stream ran down a "chine" full of rhododendrons. A large +dovecot figured in the garden; and there also "Boguey," the Stevensons' +dog, was buried, to whom no other dog had ever been deemed a worthy +successor. + +Stevenson, his clothes hanging loosely on his emaciated figure, and his +hands--"wonderful hands--long and fragile, like those in the early +portraits of Velasquez," lingered lovingly over the keys. For a while +he amused himself by picking out, note by note, the old-world dance +measures of Lully and Rameau; those gavottes, rigadoons and minuets, +which conveyed to him the indefinable _pot-pourri_-like, flavour of his +favourite eighteenth century, embued with a certain stately dignity, +"the periwig feeling," he called it, as of lords and ladies treading +courtly measures. Stevenson was passionately fond of classical music, +but he had never attained to any facility of execution. And when he +grew tired with his efforts as an interpreter of Lully, he turned to +"pickling," as he called it--composing, that is to say, after a +fashion, with "the manly and melodious forefinger." The fact that he +had invariably failed to master the rudiments of theory, in no wise +deterred him; on the contrary, difficulties rather enhanced his +delight. "Books are of no use," he avowed, "they tell you how to write +in four parts, and that cannot be done by man." So he continued to +"pickle" with a light heart, and to enjoy consecutive fifths and other +theoretical delinquencies with an enthusiasm worthy of the most modern +composer. + +Nothing but the lunch hour brought his musical experiments to a close. +Stevenson, who had, in his own words, "been obliged to strip himself, +one after another, of all the pleasures that he had chosen, except +smoking" (and indeed, he was smoking cigarettes all day long) by no +means disdained the pleasures of the table. Not, perhaps, in the role +of a gourmet--but as an artist in the more recondite delicacies of +taste and smell. "To detect the flavour of an olive is no less a piece +of human perfection than to find beauty in the colours of a sunset," he +observed; he coupled the flavour of wine with the beauty of the dawn, +and declared that we do not recognise at its full value the great part +in life that is played by eating and drinking. "There is a romance +about the matter after all," he observed. "Probably the table has more +devotees than love; and I am sure food is more generally entertaining +than scenery." It was the "romance of the matter" that appealed to +him; especially the colour, and savour, and poetical tradition of wine. +"Books, and tobacco jars, and some old Burgundy as red as a November +sunset, and as fragrant as a violet in April"--these, he thought, +should suffice the most luxurious. + +After lunch, if he anticipated an exhausting evening, he went to +sleep--at a moment's notice--and after a short, sound repose, was as +eager as ever to resume his pianoforte amusements; which he continued +until friends arrived. + +At the age of four-and-twenty, Stevenson had noted down his three chief +wishes. "First, good health: secondly, a small competence: thirdly, _O +Du lieber Gott!_ friends." The first: wish was irrevocably denied: the +second was only just beginning to be granted, the guerdon of unresting +toil: the third petition had been abundantly answered. Never was a man +more happy in his friends; or one who made them so instantaneously and +without effort. "He had only to speak," said one friend, "in order to +be recognised in the first minute for a witty and charming gentleman, +and in the second, for a man of genius." Some, indeed, like Mr. Edmund +Gosse, came home dazzled and astounded, saying, as Constance does of +Arthur, "Was ever such a gracious creature born?" His expression, of +mingled tenderness and mirth, his "scholarly and eclectic +presence"--together with his picturesque, velvet-coated appearance, and +his flashing flow of words, combined to make a man so attractive and so +unique as could command all love at will. And the friends were very +many and very notable, who haunted Skerryvore. First and foremost was +"Bob," Mr. R. A. M. Stevenson, the poet's first cousin, the brilliant +art critic: "the man likest and most unlike to me," as R.L.S. described +him. "Bob's" sister, Mrs. de Mattos, and her child were frequent +visitors; then there were celebrities from London: such as Sargent the +painter, William Archer, Sidney Colvin, W. E. Henley, Henry James; and +again friends residing in the neighbourhood of Bournemouth; the poet +Sir Henry Taylor, and his family; Sir Percy Shelley and his wife. +These latter, indeed, regarded Stevenson almost in the light of a son. +He struck them as bearing an extraordinary resemblance to Percy Bysshe +Shelley; less, perhaps, in lineaments than in figure and in mind; and +in consequence of this similarity, they held him very dear. + +But to all he was the same bewildering charming host, the man who +variously displayed, to quote W. E. Henley: + + "A deal of Ariel, just a streak of Puck, + Much Antony, of Hamlet most of all,--" + +And combined with these curiously versatile fruits, "something of the +Shorter Catechist." + +Generous in criticism, kind in praise, grave and humorous in rapid +transition, the amazing scope and variety of Stevenson's writings were +excelled by the scope and variety of his talk. "There was no part of +the writer that was not visibly present in the man." (Graham Balfour.) +He had laid down his opinion that "there can be no fairer ambition than +to excel in talk; to be affable, gay, ready, clear and welcome." But +none save those who were privileged to hear him, as with quick, +impetuous gestures, like a Southern foreigner, he emphasised his +phrases, could realise the power, the versatility, the inexpressible, +irrepressible charm with which the author could fulfil his "fair +ambition." + +When the visitors had severally taken their departure, the strong +resonant voice, with its Scottish accent and rich, full tones still +ringing in their ears,--Stevenson had suffered no abatement in the +stream of his exuberant mental vitality. The excitement of +conversation had, if anything, keyed him up; and presently, for the +writing of a few unavoidable letters, he betook himself to his study; +"the study where a smiling God beholds each day my stage of labour +trod," and sate himself down there with reluctance. + + +_Painting by W. Hatherell._ + + "All turned at the cry, and there in the wild + light of the morning heaving straight for + midway reef was the brig _Flying Scud_ of + Hull." + +_The Wrecker._ + +[Illustration: _The Wrecker_] + + +Correspondence, as a rule, he found but an irksome affair; unless +conducted upon his own whimsical lines. "I deny that letters should +contain news--I mean mine--those of other people should," was his +theory; and he boasted himself of a "willingness to pour forth +unmitigated rot, which constitutes in me the true spirit of +correspondence." For all that, his letters, grave or gay, remain among +the most delightful reading in existence; flavoured with his quaintest +conceits, endowed with his most delicate turns of phrase, and often +tempered with that "something of the Shorter Catechist" to which Henley +had alluded. + +For, undoubtedly, as time went on, although Stevenson continued to +"combine the face of a boy with the distinguished bearing of a man of +the world," he was gradually exchanging the "streak of Puck" and the +capricious unconventions of the born Bohemian, for something graver and +more mature,--a tendency almost towards the didactic. "'Tis a strange +world indeed," he had commented, "but there is a manifest God for those +who care to look for Him." And now, "with the passing of years," he +observed, "there grows more and more upon me that belief in the +kindness of this scheme of things, and the goodness of our veiled God, +which is an excellent and pacifying compensation." He was suffering, +and in all probability would perpetually suffer, from "that sharp +ferule of calamity under which we are all God's scholars till we die": +but his patience was impregnable, and his desire to leave a brave +example bore him constant company. "To suffer," said he, "sets a keen +edge on what remains of the agreeable," and he prepared to enjoy with +equal zest all pleasures which were still permitted to him. + +As he put away his writing materials, and descended once more to his +beloved piano, his father and mother came in. They were living in +Bournemouth to be near their only son. The old lighthouse engineer, +whose father had built the Bell Rock, who had served under his brother +Alan in the building of Skerryvore, "the noblest of all extant +sea-lights," who had himself erected Dhu Heartach, was now palpably +failing. The spectacle of a stern and honest man slowly evacuating all +that he had held of personal strength, was, to his son Louis, a +poignantly pathetic one. Their disagreements had been very many and +deep-rooted, dating from even before that "dreadful evening walk" in +Stevenson's youth, when, "on being tightly cross-questioned," the lad +who had been trained for a civil engineer, and had "worked in a +carpenter's shop and had a brass foundry, and hung about wood-yards and +the like," confessed that he cared for nothing but literature,--"no +profession!" as his father contemptuously replied. They had differed +on almost every conceivable topic open to their discussion,--yet here, +in the fulness of time, they were at peace together,--the austere old +man in his second childhood, and the chronic invalid who "must live as +though he were walking on eggs." Innumerable ineffaceable traits of +similarity bound one to the other; at bottom of all the bygone angers +lay a permanent bedrock of mutual love. And perhaps the nearing vision +of death which terminated all vistas for both of them, exercised its +usual effect, of calm, and _laisser-faire_, and the equalisation of +things: for it is probable that no man has a just sense of +proportionate values until he stands in the presence of death. + +Stevenson had often alluded, as a matter of personal knowledge, to his +constant prescience of mortality, and how it affected a man's thoughts +of life. Very seldom has the view of the confirmed invalid, the doomed +consumptive, been put forth to the world with the frankness with which +Stevenson invested it. He has been sometimes charged with a certain +lack of reticence: but in this matter, unquestionably, his candour was +to the benefitting of mankind: to whom these close views of the +inevitable end are rarely possible under such deliberate and +clear-headed conditions. + +There is nothing maudlin, nothing hypochondriacal, about Stevenson's +treatment of this subject: the same cheerful philosophy bears him up, +the same vitality of joy. It is hardly to be wondered at, that some +critics handled him seriously, on account of his lightheartedness in +the august shadow of the last enemy,--and his inveterate optimism in +the face of all calamities. "He jests at scars who never felt a +wound," they practically told him,--and could hardly be persuaded to +credit the paradox that the man who preached in season and out of +season, the gospel of that "cheery old Pagan, Hope," was not a denizen +of the open-air,--healthy, athletic, vigorous, incapable of realising +the maladies incident to man,--instead of an emaciated, bed-ridden +creature, whose smallest pleasures must be measured, so to speak, in a +medicine-glass. But, "It is something after all," he has said, "to +leave a brave example": and in that he triumphantly succeeded. For the +opportunities of meteoric heroisms are few and far between; but every +hour beholds the need of those obscurer braveries which may be born of +pain and suffering.... + +In _Ordered South_ and other well-known essays, he shows the gradual +relaxation of the ties which bind a man to terrestrial things,--and the +curiously significant alteration in his regard for the facts of +life,--from the sower in the dank spring furrows, to the sight of +little children with their long possibilities before them. + +Stevenson had no children of his own. His stepson, Lloyd Osbourne, +then at school in Bournemouth, was destined to become his friend and +collaborator: but it is doubtful that he cared for children as such. +The average small folk, "dragged about in a pleasing stupor by nurses," +were very far remote from that superabundant vitality nursed in an +attenuated physique, which had sat up with a shawl over its shoulders, +so many tedious months in childhood, when its principal _habitat_ was +"The Land of Counterpane" and other regions mapped out in the great and +glorious world of Make-Believe. + + +_Painting by W. Hatherell._ + +ST. IVES DESCENDS FROM EDINBURGH CASTLE. + + "The whole forces of my mind were so consumed + with losing hold and getting it again, that I + could scarce have told whether I was going up + or coming down." + +_St. Ives._ + +[Illustration: _St. Ives_] + + +For this reason, the _Child's Garden of Verses_ is not, in any real +sense of the word, a child's book at all. It contains the exquisite +imaginations of childhood as the grown-up man remembers them: to him +they have the charm of the vanished past, they are the utterances of +one who has also lived in Arcadia. But to the child, they are the very +commonplaces of existence. To sway to and fro in a swing, "the +pleasantest thing a child can do,"--to bring home treasures from field +and wood, nuts and wooden whistles, and some all-precious +unidentifiable stone, "though father denies it, I'm sure it is +gold,"--these are everyday affairs to the country-child,--just as +watching the lamplighter is to the town child. To read verses about +them is but a waste of time, when one might be actively engaged in +similar avocations. But to the grown-man who can never play with +wooden soldiers in the garden, never be a pirate any more,--these +reminiscences of Stevenson's are a delight unfailing. No one else has +ever worded them quite so accurately, quite so simply: and, taken all +for all, they are in themselves a summing-up of that most excellent +philosophy of this author, "The world is so full of a number of things, +I'm sure we should all be as happy as kings!" The world was indeed +full of a number of things to R.L.S. and,--passed through the crucible +of his own astonishing personality,--they were all, bad or good, +transmogrified into things that make for joy. + +After eight o'clock dinner was over, the old folks bade +good-night,--the father, with touching affection, kissing Louis as +though he were a child, and murmuring, "You'll see me in the morning, +dearie," as if still addressing that little feeble creature who had +been kept alive with such difficulty in the old days at Edinburgh. + +The younger man returned to the piano-forte; it drew him like a magnet. +For a short time he indulged in his desultory music-making, relishing +to the uttermost every success of sound which he achieved: and the +happiness, which was his theory of life, radiated in warm abundance +from his richly-tinted face and glowing eyes. "It's a fine life," he +exclaimed. + +At last the day's supply of energy succumbed before the imperious +demands of this "fiery threadpaper of a man," and in deference to his +wife's suggestion he betook himself to bed. Not necessarily to rest; +for even in his dreams his busy brain was working, and his "Brownies," +as he termed them, bringing him fresh material for plots. _Dr. Jekyll_ +had been thus evolved from three scenes dreamed successively in detail, +from which the dreamer waked with cries of horror. + +But he did not flinch before the coming night, and anything that it +might bring of sickness or unrest. He thought alone upon the past +delightful day, fraught with strenuous work and simple pleasures; and +he petitioned, in his own words: + + "If I have faltered more or less + In my great task of happiness; + If I have moved along my race + And shown no glorious morning face; + If beams from happy human eyes + Have moved me not; if morning skies, + Books, and my food, and summer rain + Knocked on my sullen heart in vain:-- + Lord, Thy most pointed pleasure take + And stab my spirit broad awake!" + (_Underwoods._) + + +His wife hovered around him with gentle ministrations, as suddenly +out-wearied, Robert Louis Stevenson extended his long, lean form to a +possible repose. There was not, perhaps, a cheerfuller man that night +in England. + +The sea hummed at the foot of the chine, with that soft and dove-like +purring of the South-coast sea; the doves made answer with a vibrant +cooing in the middle distance of the twilight garden. Spring buds of +pear-trees and cherry-trees globed themselves stealthily into blossom; +a delicate latent energy was consciously present in the air--the rising +of sap and revivification of seed, all the mysterious hidden progresses +of April. And the man whose ways were set in a perpetual convergence +towards the doors of death, waved, so to speak, a blithe recognition to +the myriad hosts of life. + +"O toiling hands of mortals! O unwearied feet, travelling ye know not +whither! Soon, soon, it seems to you, you must come forth on some +conspicuous hilltop, and but a little way further, against the setting +sun, descry the spires of El Dorado. Little do ye know your own +blessedness; for to travel hopefully is a better thing than to arrive, +and the true success is labour." (_Virginibus Puerisque._) + + + +The author desires to acknowledge the kindness of Messrs. Cassell & +Co., in allowing short extracts to be made from _The Master of +Ballantrae_, _The Wrecker_, and _Catriona_; also to thank Mr. William +Heinemann for a similar courtesy with regard to _St. Ives_, and Messrs. +Chatto & Windus for their permission to include various quotations from +_Virginibus Puerisque_, _Underwoods_, and _Prince Otto_. + + + + Printed by The Bushey Colour Press (André & Sleigh, Ltd.), + Bushey, Herts., England. + + + + +[Illustration: Rear cover] + + + + + + + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's A Day with Robert Louis Stevenson, by Maurice Clare + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A DAY WITH ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON *** + +***** This file should be named 53165-8.txt or 53165-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/5/3/1/6/53165/ + +Produced by Al Haines +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will +be renamed. + +Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright +law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, +so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United +States without permission and without paying copyright +royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of +the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at +www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have +to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. + +Title: A Day with Robert Louis Stevenson + +Author: Maurice Clare + +Release Date: September 28, 2016 [EBook #53165] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A DAY WITH ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON *** + + + + +Produced by Al Haines + + + + + +</pre> + + +<p><br /><br /></p> + +<p class="capcenter"> +<a id="img-cover-f"></a> +<img class="imgcenter" src="images/img-cover-f.jpg" alt="Cover art" /> +<br /> +Cover art +</p> + +<p><br /><br /></p> + +<p class="capcenter"> +<a id="img-000"></a> +<img class="imgcenter" src="images/img-000.jpg" alt="Robert Louis Stevenson" /> +<br /> +Robert Louis Stevenson +</p> + +<p><br /><br /></p> + +<p class="noindent"> +<i>Painting by W. Hatherell.</i> +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +"Took down the folds of her hair—shook it<br /> +round her face and the pool repeated her<br /> +thus veiled." +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +<i>Prince Otto.</i> +</p> + +<p><br /></p> + +<p class="capcenter"> +<a id="img-front-t"></a> +<a href="images/img-front.jpg"> +<img class="imgcenter" src="images/img-front-t.jpg" alt="Prince Otto" /> +</a> +<br /> +<i>Prince Otto</i> +</p> + +<h1> +<br /><br /> + A DAY WITH<br /> + ROBERT LOUIS<br /> + STEVENSON<br /> +</h1> + +<p><br /></p> + +<p class="t2b"> + BY MAURICE CLARE<br /> +</p> + +<p><br /><br /></p> + +<p class="t2"> + LONDON<br /> + HODDER & STOUGHTON<br /> + 1910<br /> +</p> + +<p><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<p class="noindent"> + <i>In the same Series.<br /> + Dickens.<br /> + Thackeray.</i><br /> +</p> + +<p><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<p><a id="chap01"></a></p> + +<h3> +A DAY WITH STEVENSON. +</h3> + +<p><br /></p> + +<p> +Supposing that in the month +of April, 1886, you had arrived, +a guest foreseen, at the pleasant +ivy-muffled dwelling in Bournemouth, +which had recently adopted +the name of Skerryvore, and +that you had been permitted to +enter its doors—you might account yourself a +somewhat favoured person. For the master +of the house, "that rickety and cloistered +spectre," as he termed himself, the "pallid +brute who lived in Skerryvore like a weevil +in a biscuit," might be invisible for the +nonce—shut upstairs, forbidden even to speak for +fear of inducing hemorrhage. Or again, you +might yourself be afflicted with an obvious +cold: in which case you would not be admitted +into his presence, lest you left contagion of +that cold. +</p> + +<p> +But if fate befriended you, you would +chance upon the most remarkable personality, +it might be, that you had yet encountered. A +lean, long flat-chested man, gracefully emphatic +of gesture—pacing up and down the room as he +talked—burning with hectic energy—a man of +rich brown tints in hair and eyes and skin: +mutable, mirthful, brilliant—above all "vital," +as he had described himself, "wholly vital with +a buoyance of life" which had upborne him +hitherto over the crest of most tumultuous distresses. +</p> + +<p> +Robert Louis Stevenson was now thirty-six +years old: and ever since his sixth year, when, +as his mother recorded in her diary, he dreamed +that he "heard the noise of pens writing," his +aim had been set unswervingly toward the one +goal. Born of a strong and strenuous family, +the great lighthouse builders of the north, he +was not, like them, intent upon the subjugation +of obstinate stone, the ordering and ordaining +of rocks and seas. Dhu Heartach and the Bell +Rock and Skerryvore he could admire at a +distance: but the material which cried aloud to +him for mastery, was much more plastic,—yet, +to him, no less stubborn. "I imagine," he +declared, "nobody ever had such pains to learn +a trade as I had; but I slogged at it day in and +day out." His fastidious soul refused to be +contented with a facile and slipshod utterance. +A passionate quest: after <i>le mot propre</i>, which had +led him, in his own phrase, to "play the sedulus +ape" to all the great prose writers of the +past—and a sense of style such as no man had ever so +anxiously and assiduously developed in +himself—these had achieved their own reward. +"'Thanks to my dire industry," said Stevenson, +"I have done more with smaller gifts than +almost any man of letters in the world." +</p> + +<p> +And this was a just pride: for there was +no branch of literature in which he could not +admirably acquit himself. So many years a +struggler in obscurity, with small hopes, few +successes, little encouragement—battling with +continuous and crippling maladies,—this +indomitable artist, by sheer dint of "dire industry," +now suddenly stood forth in full blaze of +public recognition. The author of <i>Virginibus +Puerisque</i>, <i>Treasure Island</i>, <i>Prince Otto</i>, <i>The Child's +Garden of Verse</i>, and <i>Dr. Jekyll</i>, was very much +a man to be reckoned with. +</p> + +<p> +Probably few modern books have met with +such instantaneous and triumphant success as +<i>Treasure Island</i> and <i>Dr. Jekyll</i>. The first, after +running its course, unannounced and comparatively +unrecognized, the serial of an obscure +author, in <i>Young Folks' Paper</i>, was published +in book form,—and Stevenson, like Byron, +"awoke to find himself famous." The honours +which he had failed to obtain with all the +dainty humour, all the valiant fatalism, of +<i>Virginibus Puerisque</i>, had been accorded +without stint to <i>Treasure Island</i>. It was a tense +and stimulating piece of pure adventure. The +authentic air of the eighteenth century breathed +through every sentence of it: and its fine +flavour of dare-devil romance kindled even +sober statesmen, such as Mr. Gladstone, to a +very furore of avidity in devouring its +breathless pages. +</p> + +<p> +As for <i>Dr. Jekyll</i>, that gruesome +work—literally the product of a nightmare—had been +quoted in pulpits, discussed in newspapers, read +by everybody,—it had taken the world by +storm. Yet Stevenson's head was not turned +by his tardily-won success: with his customary +<i>sang froid</i>, he took things as they came, failures +and triumphs, and met each alike with smiling gallantry. +</p> + +<p> +The motives which had led him into authorship—or +rather forced him, despite all stress +and hindrance of froward circumstances,—were +as curiously varied as his own nature; and it +was these motives which still drove him hard +and incessantly. To fame he was perhaps not +wholly indifferent. No author sits so austerely +aloft as to disdain popular applause altogether. +Yet a born stylist and a conscious artist, like +Stevenson, knew that his most finished work +was above and beyond the appreciation of the +general public. For money,—though it was a +necessity of life to him, and although, with all +his recent triumphs, he was not at present +earning more than £400 a year,—for money he +did not care, except as a means to an end. +"Wealth is only useful for two things," he +said, "a yacht and a string quartet. Except +for these, I hold that £700 a year is as much as +a man can possibly want." Still, in declaring, +"I do not write for the public," he added with +engaging candour, "I do write for money, a +nobler deity," and this, to a certain extent was +true. It was for money only, no doubt, that he +was now undertaking, against the grain, that +"romance of tushery," <i>The Black Arrow</i>, a tale +with a mediæval setting in which he felt himself +ill at ease. But "most of all," he allowed, "I +write for myself; not perhaps any more noble, +but both more intelligent and nearer home." +</p> + +<p> +And that a man in such difficulties of health +and finance, and so precarious a position, should +have the courage of his own determined artistry, +was in itself sufficiently remarkable: but the +result more than justified his choice. +</p> + +<p> +All the morning, Stevenson had been +upstairs writing: probably after a bad night; +very likely in what any other man would term +a totally unfit condition. Under any and all +circumstances, he continued to write unflinchingly; +racked by coughing, reeling with weakness, +with his right arm in a sling, and his left +hand holding the pen,—sitting up in bed with +a clinical thermometer in his mouth; and yet, +as he declared, "I like my life all the same +... I should bear false witness if I did not +declare life happy." ... He was, in his own +words, "made for a contest, and the powers +have so willed that my battlefield should be +this dingy, inglorious one of the bed and the +physic bottle." +</p> + +<p> +"To declare life happy," became, in fact, +his literary mission,—the condensed philosophy +of his gay, inveterate courage. "I believe that +literature should give joy," was his maxim, +"one dank, dispirited word is harmful,—a +crime of <i>lèse-humanité</i>." This brave and cheerful +outlook is evident in all his essays,—it is, +so to speak, a glorified and artistic +Mark-Tapleyism, all-pervading, unimpugnable, ready +to survive the most malevolent accidents of +life, the crowning tragedy of death itself. And +so you find the "chronic sickist," as he termed +himself, still ready, in all but body, for great +risks and inspiriting adventures, and—through +a mist of pain—leading forlorn hopes with a +waving sword of flame. You hear him +proclaiming that: +</p> + +<p> +"All who have meant good work with their +whole hearts, have done good work, although +they may die before they have the time to sign +it. Every heart that has beat strong and +cheerfully has left a hopeful impulse behind it +in the world, and bettered the tradition of +mankind. And even if death catch people, +like an open pitfall, and in mid-career, laying +out vast projects, and planning monstrous +foundations, flushed with hope, and their +mouths full of boastful language, they should +be at once tripped up and silenced; is there +not something brave and spirited in such a +termination? and does not life go down with +a better grace, foaming in full body over a +precipice, than miserable struggling to an end +in sandy deltas?" (<i>Virginibus Puerisque</i>.) +</p> + +<p> +And to him, above all, applied his own +triumphant lines, those which he addressed to +W. E. Henley, another writer, a man of like +courageous outlook, who, like himself, "in the +fell grip of circumstances, had not winced nor +cried aloud: +</p> + +<p class="poem"> + "... Small the pipe; but oh! do thou,<br /> + Peak-faced and suffering piper, blow therein<br /> + The dirge of heroes dead; and to these sick,<br /> + These dying, sound the triumph over death.<br /> + Behold! each greatly breathes; each tastes a joy<br /> + Unknown before in dying; for each knows<br /> + A hero dies with him—though unfulfilled,<br /> + Yet conquering truly—and not dies in vain."<br /> +</p> + +<p><br /></p> + +<p> +At present he was engaged upon <i>Kidnapped</i>, +that admirable piece of fiction which he had +begun, "partly as a lark and partly as a +pot-boiler." It was a relief, after the concentrated +horror of <i>Dr. Jekyll</i>, to escape into the Scottish +heather-scent and to feel the salt sea-wind +whistling through the cordage of <i>Kidnapped</i>. +</p> + +<p><br /></p> + +<p class="noindent"> +<i>Painting by W. Hatherell.</i> +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +"She stood on the bulwarks and held on by a<br /> +stay, the wind blowing in her petticoats. +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +<i>Catriona.</i> +</p> + +<p><br /></p> + +<p class="capcenter"> +<a id="img-012-t"></a> +<a href="images/img-012.jpg"> +<img class="imgcenter" src="images/img-012-t.jpg" alt="Catriona" /> +</a> +<br /> +<i>Catriona</i> +</p> + +<p><br /></p> + +<p> +Stevenson was desirous to "get free of this +prison-yard of the abominably ugly, where I +take my daily exercise with my contemporaries." Possibly +he recognised that the amazing +popularity of <i>Jekyll</i> had been due to the morbid +attractiveness of its subject, rather than to its +merits of craftsmanship; for, as he had averred, +"I know that good work sometimes hits; but, +with my hand on my heart, I think it is an +accident." But now he was at liberty to give +play to his infinite variety upon a true boys' +book,—a story to satisfy the inveterate +boyishness of his own heart. "Of the romance of +boyhood and adolescence, it has been said, he +is an unsurpassed master ... the philosophy +of life developed in both his essays and romances +is that rather of a gifted boy than a mature +man." (J. W. Mackail.) And even the girls +of Stevenson's imagination have been accused +of being "boys in petticoats." The phrase has +reason. "I have never admired a girl," he +wrote, and again, "I have never pleased +myself with any women of mine." The other sex +remained for him, throughout, a mystery which +he hardly cared to solve,—a sealed book which +he was not desirous to open. "Of the two +eternal factors in the destiny of man, warfare +and love," although he allowed that "to love +is the great amulet which makes the world a +garden," he preferred to deal almost exclusively +with the warfare. +</p> + +<p> +And yet one women had played a very +important part in Stevenson's life: and it was +practically with his marriage that the tide of +his fortunes had changed. His wife,—"trusty, +dusky, vivid, true," was his very <i>alter ego</i>: with +"a character" (to quote Mr. Sidney Colvin) +"as strong, interesting, and romantic almost +as his own: an inseparable sharer of all his +thoughts, the most shrewd and stimulating of +critics: and in sickness, despite her own +precarious health, the most devoted and most +efficient of nurses." To while away the weary +hours of illness, Mrs. Stevenson made up +stories to amuse him,—and subsequently the +husband and wife would write them out +together. She, with her "eyes of gold and +bramble-dew," was literally all-in-all to him as +companion, helpmate, friend;—and far—how +infinitely far!—above the ideal wife whom he +had described so adroitly,—in his bachelor +days,—that woman who should have "a fine +touch for the affections," and who should at +least be sufficiently talented to avoid boring her +life-long comrade. The character of the ideal +wife, as there indicated,—apt at gracious +compromises, possessor of a cheerful fluent +tongue,—was very obviously set forth by a man who +had never yet been stirred by the sharp throbs +of an imperative emotion. And now that +Stevenson realised what love in its depth and +breadth might mean, it held a certain sanctity +for him,—he was loth to speak of it, as to write +of it. It was a marvel that had befallen him +personally: but for other people, it might still +perhaps, be no more than that gentle domesticated +affection which he had portrayed with +such amiable humour. But there was one +point in which he, consciously or unconsciously +insisted, in his <i>desiderata</i> of the female +character. +</p> + +<p> +"It always warms a man," he had declared, +"to see a woman brave," and he saw it daily +in his wife. Therefore it came about, that, +unversed in women—as Stevenson unquestionably +was, he was able to endow his heroines +with a touch of gallant boyishness, a hint of +the heroic—and if they failed in +flesh-and-blood-<i>vraisemblance</i>, +they had that "steel-true, +blade-straight" quality which he adored in the +women he had chosen. +</p> + +<p> +You will notice this courageous virtue in +all of them, rich and poor; from <i>Catriona</i>, that +"tall, pretty, tender figure of a maiden, when, +having assured her father's escape from prison +by a bold stratagem, she arrives a fugitive and +an exile at Helvoetsluys, and lands from the +staggering side of the <i>Rose</i> into the little boat +below;—when, in David Balfour's words: +</p> + +<p> +"I began to think I had made a fool's +bargain, that it was merely impossible Catriona +should be got on board to me, and that I stood +to be set ashore in Helvoet all by myself +... But this was to reckon without the lass's courage +... Up she stood on the bulwarks and held +by a stay, the wind blowing in her petticoats, +which made the enterprise more dangerous, +and gave us rather more a view of her stockings +than would be thought genteel in cities"—(<i>Catriona.</i>) +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +to Seraphina in <i>Prince Otto</i>, still inherently +valorous in that desperate flight through the +forest: where: +</p> + +<p> +"At length when she was well weary, she +came upon a wide and shallow pool. Stones +stood in it, like islands; bulrushes fringed the +coast; the floor was paved with pine needles; +and the pines themselves, whose roots made +promontories, looked down silently on their +green images. She crept to the margin and +beheld herself with wonder, a hollow and +bright-eyed phantom, in the ruins of her palace +robe ... She addressed herself to make a +toilette by that forest mirror, washed herself +pure from all the stains of her adventure, took +off her jewels and wrapped them in her handkerchief, +re-arranged the tatters of her dress, and +took down the folds of her hair. She shook it +round her face, and the pool repeated her thus +veiled." (<i>Prince Otto.</i>) +</p> + +<p> +Clara Huddlestone, in the <i>Pavilion on the +Links</i>, repeats the same undauntable note: Olalla +is inexorable in moral courage of renunciation, +even the weeping Blanche, in the <i>Sieur de +Malétroit's Door</i>, has the mettle of some small +creature at bay. +</p> + +<p> +The charm of Stevenson's heroines is, in +short, a cold charm; nor does he often accord +them the assistance of a personal description. +But they are finely tempered, of the best Toledo +steel, and owing to their boyish character, there +is no very obvious gap in those novels where +they are conspicuously absent, such as <i>The Ebb +Tide</i>, <i>The Wreckers</i>, and <i>The Master of Ballantrae</i>. +In the latter, indeed, there is a slight "female +interest," but a stronger personality in the +heroine must inevitably have changed or +coloured the whole course of the book: and +one cannot but detect a certain vacuum, where +at least some emotion might have lifted a +haggard head, in the character of Mrs. Henry,—even +in that scene, surcharged with hidden +explosive possibilities, when the author +describes how: +</p> + +<p> +"The Master played upon that little ballad, +and upon those who heard him, like an instrument, +and seemed now upon the point of failing, +and now to conquer his distress, so that the +words and music seemed to pour out of his own +heart and his own past, and to be aimed directly +at Mrs. Henry.... When it came to an end +we all sat silent for a time: he had chosen the +dusk of the afternoon, so that none could see +his neighbour's face: but it seemed as if we +held our breathing: only my old lord cleared +his throat. The first to move was the singer, +who got to his feet suddenly and softly, and +went and walked softly to and fro in the low +end of the hall." (<i>The Master of Ballantrae.</i>) +</p> + +<p><br /></p> + +<p> +But Mrs. Henry plays a very minor part +in the marring or making, here, of two men's +lives: it is a rôle of <i>vis inertiæ</i> at best. And, +indeed, when all is said, what shall a petticoat +be if not irrelevant, among the clash of steel +and smoke of pistols, in an atmosphere +permeated by Spanish doubloons or illicit piratical +treasure? Stevenson's infallible artistic +instinct led him to keep the adventure-story +pendant upon the deeds of men, and the eager +mistakes of boys; and a certain curious +penchant for the squalid, the submerged, the +picturesque, brought him by choice into such +company as no heroine should enter—that of +Villon, for instance, and John Silver, and +Herrick the cockney vagabond. "The spice +of life is battle," he said; and his life, and his +books, were brimful of battles with foes or +with fortune. +</p> + +<p><br /></p> + +<p class="noindent"> +<i>Painting by W. Hatherell.</i> +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +"'The words and music seemed to pour out of<br /> +his own heart and his own past and to be<br /> +aimed directly at Mrs. Henry." +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +<i>Master of Ballantrae.</i> +</p> + +<p><br /></p> + +<p class="capcenter"> +<a id="img-020-t"></a> +<a href="images/img-020.jpg"> +<img class="imgcenter" src="images/img-020-t.jpg" alt="Master of Ballantrae" /> +</a> +<br /> +<i>Master of Ballantrae</i> +</p> + +<p><br /></p> + +<p> +The open-air life which he had perforce +abandoned, the joy of physical strength and +hair-breadth 'scape, could still be his by proxy. +He revelled in delineating his ideal man: +</p> + +<p> +"Being a true lover of living, a fellow with +something pushing and spontaneous in his inside, +he must, like any other soldier, in any other +stirring, deadly warfare, push on at his best +pace until he touch the goal. 'A peerage or +Westminster Abbey!' cried Nelson in his +bright, boyish, heroic manner. These are great +incentives; not for any of these, but for the +plain satisfaction of living, of being about their +business in some sort or other, do the brave, +serviceable men of every nation tread down +the nettle danger, and pass flyingly over all +the stumbling-blocks of prudence." (<i>Virginibus +Puerisque.</i>) +</p> + +<p><br /></p> + +<p> +The tramp of horse-hoofs, the clank of the +capstan, the door ajar—a thousand sights and +sounds were but symbolisms to him of some +mysterious by-way of adventure to be followed +up, quick with latent possibilities of romance; +and from one word, one name, he could evolve +a whole intricate plot. With the simplest of +sentences, he could electrify the startled reader, +as when in <i>The Wrecker</i>, where the desperate +castaways sit gambling on the desert island, and +one suddenly cries aloud, "Sail ho!" +</p> + +<p> +"All turned at the cry,—and there, in the +wild light of the morning, heading straight for +Midway Reef, was the brig <i>Flying Scud</i> of +Hull." (<i>The Wrecker.</i>) +</p> + +<p><br /></p> + +<p> +On that moment the whole tale hangs as on +a pivot. All its involution and evolution, all +its intricate and tangled clues, lead—backwards +or forwards—to this one swift breathless sight. +</p> + +<p> +His morning's work accomplished, the tall +gaunt man came downstairs, literally to play +awhile. After weeks, it might be, of enforced +seclusion in his room, his eye rested pleasurably +upon the various attractive objects which +almost seemed like new to him. Stevenson,—the +avowed evader of personal property, the +rolling-stone that had so long refused to gather +moss,—was now, under a woman's tender +surveillance, surrounded with charm and comfort. +"Our drawing room," he maintained, "is a +place so beautiful that it's like eating to sit +down in it. No other room is so lovely in the +world ... I blush for the figure I cut in such +a bower." The garden, Mrs. Stevenson's +special pleasure, but one in which her husband +did not share, was very lovely, with a lawn, +and heather-bank, and a half-acre of land, +where a little stream ran down a "chine" full +of rhododendrons. A large dovecot figured in +the garden; and there also "Boguey," the +Stevensons' dog, was buried, to whom no other +dog had ever been deemed a worthy successor. +</p> + +<p> +Stevenson, his clothes hanging loosely on +his emaciated figure, and his hands—"wonderful +hands—long and fragile, like those in the +early portraits of Velasquez," lingered lovingly +over the keys. For a while he amused himself +by picking out, note by note, the old-world +dance measures of Lully and Rameau; those +gavottes, rigadoons and minuets, which +conveyed to him the indefinable <i>pot-pourri</i>-like, +flavour of his favourite eighteenth century, +embued with a certain stately dignity, "the +periwig feeling," he called it, as of lords and +ladies treading courtly measures. Stevenson +was passionately fond of classical music, but he +had never attained to any facility of execution. +And when he grew tired with his efforts as an +interpreter of Lully, he turned to "pickling," as +he called it—composing, that is to say, after a +fashion, with "the manly and melodious +forefinger." The fact that he had invariably failed +to master the rudiments of theory, in no wise +deterred him; on the contrary, difficulties +rather enhanced his delight. "Books are of +no use," he avowed, "they tell you how to +write in four parts, and that cannot be done +by man." So he continued to "pickle" with +a light heart, and to enjoy consecutive fifths +and other theoretical delinquencies with an +enthusiasm worthy of the most modern composer. +</p> + +<p> +Nothing but the lunch hour brought his +musical experiments to a close. Stevenson, +who had, in his own words, "been obliged to +strip himself, one after another, of all the +pleasures that he had chosen, except smoking" +(and indeed, he was smoking cigarettes all day +long) by no means disdained the pleasures of +the table. Not, perhaps, in the role of a +gourmet—but as an artist in the more recondite +delicacies of taste and smell. "To detect the +flavour of an olive is no less a piece of human +perfection than to find beauty in the colours of +a sunset," he observed; he coupled the flavour +of wine with the beauty of the dawn, and +declared that we do not recognise at its full +value the great part in life that is played by +eating and drinking. "There is a romance +about the matter after all," he observed. +"Probably the table has more devotees than love; +and I am sure food is more generally +entertaining than scenery." It was the "romance of +the matter" that appealed to him; especially +the colour, and savour, and poetical tradition +of wine. "Books, and tobacco jars, and some +old Burgundy as red as a November sunset, +and as fragrant as a violet in April"—these, +he thought, should suffice the most luxurious. +</p> + +<p> +After lunch, if he anticipated an exhausting +evening, he went to sleep—at a moment's +notice—and after a short, sound repose, was +as eager as ever to resume his pianoforte +amusements; which he continued until friends +arrived. +</p> + +<p> +At the age of four-and-twenty, Stevenson +had noted down his three chief wishes. "First, +good health: secondly, a small competence: +thirdly, <i>O Du lieber Gott!</i> friends." The first: +wish was irrevocably denied: the second was +only just beginning to be granted, the guerdon +of unresting toil: the third petition had been +abundantly answered. Never was a man more +happy in his friends; or one who made them so +instantaneously and without effort. "He had +only to speak," said one friend, "in order to +be recognised in the first minute for a witty +and charming gentleman, and in the second, +for a man of genius." Some, indeed, like +Mr. Edmund Gosse, came home dazzled and +astounded, saying, as Constance does of Arthur, +"Was ever such a gracious creature born?" His +expression, of mingled tenderness and +mirth, his "scholarly and eclectic +presence"—together with his picturesque, velvet-coated +appearance, and his flashing flow of words, +combined to make a man so attractive and so +unique as could command all love at will. And +the friends were very many and very notable, +who haunted Skerryvore. First and foremost +was "Bob," Mr. R. A. M. Stevenson, the +poet's first cousin, the brilliant art critic: "the +man likest and most unlike to me," as +R.L.S. described him. "Bob's" sister, Mrs. de Mattos, +and her child were frequent visitors; then there +were celebrities from London: such as Sargent +the painter, William Archer, Sidney Colvin, +W. E. Henley, Henry James; and again +friends residing in the neighbourhood of +Bournemouth; the poet Sir Henry Taylor, and his +family; Sir Percy Shelley and his wife. These +latter, indeed, regarded Stevenson almost in the +light of a son. He struck them as bearing an +extraordinary resemblance to Percy Bysshe +Shelley; less, perhaps, in lineaments than in +figure and in mind; and in consequence of this +similarity, they held him very dear. +</p> + +<p> +But to all he was the same bewildering +charming host, the man who variously displayed, +to quote W. E. Henley: +</p> + +<p class="poem"> + "A deal of Ariel, just a streak of Puck,<br /> + Much Antony, of Hamlet most of all,—"<br /> +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +And combined with these curiously versatile +fruits, "something of the Shorter Catechist." +</p> + +<p> +Generous in criticism, kind in praise, grave +and humorous in rapid transition, the amazing +scope and variety of Stevenson's writings were +excelled by the scope and variety of his talk. +"There was no part of the writer that was not +visibly present in the man." (Graham Balfour.) He +had laid down his opinion that "there can +be no fairer ambition than to excel in talk; to +be affable, gay, ready, clear and welcome." But +none save those who were privileged to +hear him, as with quick, impetuous gestures, +like a Southern foreigner, he emphasised his +phrases, could realise the power, the versatility, +the inexpressible, irrepressible charm with +which the author could fulfil his "fair ambition." +</p> + +<p> +When the visitors had severally taken +their departure, the strong resonant voice, +with its Scottish accent and rich, full tones still +ringing in their ears,—Stevenson had suffered +no abatement in the stream of his exuberant +mental vitality. The excitement of +conversation had, if anything, keyed him up; and +presently, for the writing of a few unavoidable +letters, he betook himself to his study; "the +study where a smiling God beholds each day +my stage of labour trod," and sate himself +down there with reluctance. +</p> + +<p><br /></p> + +<p class="noindent"> +<i>Painting by W. Hatherell.</i> +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +"All turned at the cry, and there in the wild<br /> +light of the morning heaving straight for<br /> +midway reef was the brig <i>Flying Scud</i> of<br /> +Hull." +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +<i>The Wrecker.</i> +</p> + +<p><br /></p> + +<p class="capcenter"> +<a id="img-030-t"></a> +<a href="images/img-030.jpg"> +<img class="imgcenter" src="images/img-030-t.jpg" alt="The Wrecker" /> +</a> +<br /> +<i>The Wrecker</i> +</p> + +<p><br /></p> + +<p> +Correspondence, as a rule, he found but an +irksome affair; unless conducted upon his own +whimsical lines. "I deny that letters should +contain news—I mean mine—those of other +people should," was his theory; and he boasted +himself of a "willingness to pour forth unmitigated +rot, which constitutes in me the true spirit +of correspondence." For all that, his letters, +grave or gay, remain among the most delightful +reading in existence; flavoured with his +quaintest conceits, endowed with his most +delicate turns of phrase, and often tempered +with that "something of the Shorter Catechist" +to which Henley had alluded. +</p> + +<p> +For, undoubtedly, as time went on, +although Stevenson continued to "combine the +face of a boy with the distinguished bearing +of a man of the world," he was gradually +exchanging the "streak of Puck" and +the capricious unconventions of the born +Bohemian, for something graver and more +mature,—a tendency almost towards the +didactic. "'Tis a strange world indeed," he +had commented, "but there is a manifest God +for those who care to look for Him." And +now, "with the passing of years," he observed, +"there grows more and more upon me that +belief in the kindness of this scheme of things, +and the goodness of our veiled God, which is an +excellent and pacifying compensation." He +was suffering, and in all probability would +perpetually suffer, from "that sharp ferule of +calamity under which we are all God's scholars +till we die": but his patience was impregnable, +and his desire to leave a brave example bore +him constant company. "To suffer," said he, +"sets a keen edge on what remains of the +agreeable," and he prepared to enjoy with +equal zest all pleasures which were still +permitted to him. +</p> + +<p> +As he put away his writing materials, and +descended once more to his beloved piano, his +father and mother came in. They were living +in Bournemouth to be near their only son. +The old lighthouse engineer, whose father had +built the Bell Rock, who had served under his +brother Alan in the building of Skerryvore, +"the noblest of all extant sea-lights," who had +himself erected Dhu Heartach, was now palpably +failing. The spectacle of a stern and +honest man slowly evacuating all that he had +held of personal strength, was, to his son Louis, +a poignantly pathetic one. Their disagreements +had been very many and deep-rooted, +dating from even before that "dreadful evening +walk" in Stevenson's youth, when, "on being +tightly cross-questioned," the lad who had been +trained for a civil engineer, and had "worked +in a carpenter's shop and had a brass foundry, +and hung about wood-yards and the like," confessed +that he cared for nothing but literature,—"no +profession!" as his father contemptuously +replied. They had differed on almost +every conceivable topic open to their discussion,—yet +here, in the fulness of time, they were at +peace together,—the austere old man in his +second childhood, and the chronic invalid who +"must live as though he were walking on +eggs." Innumerable ineffaceable traits of similarity +bound one to the other; at bottom of all the +bygone angers lay a permanent bedrock of +mutual love. And perhaps the nearing vision +of death which terminated all vistas for both of +them, exercised its usual effect, of calm, and +<i>laisser-faire</i>, and the equalisation of things: for +it is probable that no man has a just sense of +proportionate values until he stands in the +presence of death. +</p> + +<p> +Stevenson had often alluded, as a matter of +personal knowledge, to his constant prescience +of mortality, and how it affected a man's +thoughts of life. Very seldom has the view of +the confirmed invalid, the doomed consumptive, +been put forth to the world with the frankness +with which Stevenson invested it. He has +been sometimes charged with a certain lack of +reticence: but in this matter, unquestionably, +his candour was to the benefitting of mankind: +to whom these close views of the inevitable end +are rarely possible under such deliberate and +clear-headed conditions. +</p> + +<p> +There is nothing maudlin, nothing hypochondriacal, +about Stevenson's treatment of +this subject: the same cheerful philosophy +bears him up, the same vitality of joy. It is +hardly to be wondered at, that some critics +handled him seriously, on account of his +lightheartedness in the august shadow of the last +enemy,—and his inveterate optimism in the face +of all calamities. "He jests at scars who never +felt a wound," they practically told him,—and +could hardly be persuaded to credit the paradox +that the man who preached in season and out of +season, the gospel of that "cheery old Pagan, +Hope," was not a denizen of the open-air,—healthy, +athletic, vigorous, incapable of realising +the maladies incident to man,—instead of an +emaciated, bed-ridden creature, whose smallest +pleasures must be measured, so to speak, in a +medicine-glass. But, "It is something after +all," he has said, "to leave a brave example": +and in that he triumphantly succeeded. For +the opportunities of meteoric heroisms are few +and far between; but every hour beholds the +need of those obscurer braveries which may be +born of pain and suffering.... +</p> + +<p> +In <i>Ordered South</i> and other well-known +essays, he shows the gradual relaxation of the +ties which bind a man to terrestrial things,—and +the curiously significant alteration in his +regard for the facts of life,—from the sower in +the dank spring furrows, to the sight of little +children with their long possibilities before them. +</p> + +<p> +Stevenson had no children of his own. +His stepson, Lloyd Osbourne, then at school in +Bournemouth, was destined to become his +friend and collaborator: but it is doubtful that +he cared for children as such. The average +small folk, "dragged about in a pleasing stupor +by nurses," were very far remote from that +superabundant vitality nursed in an attenuated +physique, which had sat up with a shawl over +its shoulders, so many tedious months in +childhood, when its principal <i>habitat</i> was "The Land +of Counterpane" and other regions mapped +out in the great and glorious world of Make-Believe. +</p> + +<p><br /></p> + +<p class="noindent"> +<i>Painting by W. Hatherell.</i> +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +ST. IVES DESCENDS FROM EDINBURGH CASTLE. +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +"The whole forces of my mind were so consumed<br /> +with losing hold and getting it again, that I<br /> +could scarce have told whether I was going up<br /> +or coming down." +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +<i>St. Ives.</i> +</p> + +<p><br /></p> + +<p class="capcenter"> +<a id="img-038-t"></a> +<a href="images/img-038.jpg"> +<img class="imgcenter" src="images/img-038-t.jpg" alt="St. Ives" /> +</a> +<br /> +<i>St. Ives</i> +</p> + +<p><br /></p> + +<p> +For this reason, the <i>Child's Garden of Verses</i> +is not, in any real sense of the word, a child's +book at all. It contains the exquisite +imaginations of childhood as the grown-up man +remembers them: to him they have the charm of +the vanished past, they are the utterances of +one who has also lived in Arcadia. But to the +child, they are the very commonplaces of +existence. To sway to and fro in a swing, +"the pleasantest thing a child can do,"—to +bring home treasures from field and wood, nuts +and wooden whistles, and some all-precious +unidentifiable stone, "though father denies it, +I'm sure it is gold,"—these are everyday affairs +to the country-child,—just as watching the +lamplighter is to the town child. To read +verses about them is but a waste of time, when +one might be actively engaged in similar +avocations. But to the grown-man who can never +play with wooden soldiers in the garden, never +be a pirate any more,—these reminiscences of +Stevenson's are a delight unfailing. No one +else has ever worded them quite so accurately, +quite so simply: and, taken all for all, they are +in themselves a summing-up of that most +excellent philosophy of this author, "The +world is so full of a number of things, I'm sure +we should all be as happy as kings!" The +world was indeed full of a number of things to +R.L.S. and,—passed through the crucible of +his own astonishing personality,—they were +all, bad or good, transmogrified into things +that make for joy. +</p> + +<p> +After eight o'clock dinner was over, the +old folks bade good-night,—the father, with +touching affection, kissing Louis as though he +were a child, and murmuring, "You'll see me +in the morning, dearie," as if still addressing +that little feeble creature who had been kept +alive with such difficulty in the old days at +Edinburgh. +</p> + +<p> +The younger man returned to the piano-forte; +it drew him like a magnet. For a short +time he indulged in his desultory music-making, +relishing to the uttermost every success of +sound which he achieved: and the happiness, +which was his theory of life, radiated in warm +abundance from his richly-tinted face and +glowing eyes. "It's a fine life," he exclaimed. +</p> + +<p> +At last the day's supply of energy succumbed +before the imperious demands of this +"fiery threadpaper of a man," and in deference +to his wife's suggestion he betook himself to bed. +Not necessarily to rest; for even in his dreams +his busy brain was working, and his "Brownies," +as he termed them, bringing him fresh material +for plots. <i>Dr. Jekyll</i> had been thus evolved from +three scenes dreamed successively in detail, from +which the dreamer waked with cries of horror. +</p> + +<p> +But he did not flinch before the coming +night, and anything that it might bring of +sickness or unrest. He thought alone upon the +past delightful day, fraught with strenuous work +and simple pleasures; and he petitioned, in his +own words: +</p> + +<p class="poem"> + "If I have faltered more or less<br /> + In my great task of happiness;<br /> + If I have moved along my race<br /> + And shown no glorious morning face;<br /> + If beams from happy human eyes<br /> + Have moved me not; if morning skies,<br /> + Books, and my food, and summer rain<br /> + Knocked on my sullen heart in vain:—<br /> + Lord, Thy most pointed pleasure take<br /> + And stab my spirit broad awake!"<br /> + (<i>Underwoods.</i>)<br /> +</p> + +<p><br /></p> + +<p> +His wife hovered around him with gentle +ministrations, as suddenly out-wearied, Robert +Louis Stevenson extended his long, lean form +to a possible repose. There was not, perhaps, +a cheerfuller man that night in England. +</p> + +<p> +The sea hummed at the foot of the chine, +with that soft and dove-like purring of the +South-coast sea; the doves made answer with +a vibrant cooing in the middle distance of the +twilight garden. Spring buds of pear-trees and +cherry-trees globed themselves stealthily into +blossom; a delicate latent energy was +consciously present in the air—the rising of sap +and revivification of seed, all the mysterious +hidden progresses of April. And the man +whose ways were set in a perpetual +convergence towards the doors of death, waved, +so to speak, a blithe recognition to the myriad +hosts of life. +</p> + +<p> +"O toiling hands of mortals! O unwearied +feet, travelling ye know not whither! Soon, +soon, it seems to you, you must come forth on +some conspicuous hilltop, and but a little way +further, against the setting sun, descry the +spires of El Dorado. Little do ye know your +own blessedness; for to travel hopefully is a +better thing than to arrive, and the true success +is labour." (<i>Virginibus Puerisque.</i>) +</p> + +<p><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<p> +The author desires to acknowledge the +kindness of Messrs. Cassell & Co., in allowing +short extracts to be made from <i>The Master of +Ballantrae</i>, <i>The Wrecker</i>, and <i>Catriona</i>; also to +thank Mr. William Heinemann for a similar +courtesy with regard to <i>St. Ives</i>, and +Messrs. Chatto & Windus for their permission to +include various quotations from <i>Virginibus +Puerisque</i>, <i>Underwoods</i>, and <i>Prince Otto</i>. +</p> + +<p><br /><br /></p> + +<p class="t4"> + Printed by The Bushey Colour Press (André & Sleigh, Ltd.),<br /> + Bushey, Herts., England.<br /> +</p> + +<p><br /><br /></p> + +<p class="capcenter"> +<a id="img-cover-r"></a> +<img class="imgcenter" src="images/img-cover-r.jpg" alt="Rear cover" /> +<br /> +Rear cover +</p> + +<p><br /><br /><br /><br /></p> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's A Day with Robert Louis Stevenson, by Maurice Clare + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A DAY WITH ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON *** + +***** This file should be named 53165-h.htm or 53165-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/5/3/1/6/53165/ + +Produced by Al Haines +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will +be renamed. + +Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright +law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, +so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United +States without permission and without paying copyright +royalties. 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