Robert Louis Stevenson: A Record, an Estimate, and a Memorial

t originally bore the odd title of The Sea-Cook, and, as I have told before, I showed it to Mr Henderson, the proprietor of the Young Fo

lume and in a late volume of the Edinburgh Edition) has recalled some of the circumstances c

nearth new writers for my old friend Mr Henderson's Young Folks. Even the ruthlessness of a united family recoiled before the extreme measure of inflicting on our guest the mutilated members of The Sea-Cook; at the same time, we would by no means stop our re

ay rather admire that smooth and formidable adventurer. What was infinitely more exhilarating, I had passed a landmark. I had finished a tale and written The End upon my manuscript, as I had not done since The Pentland Rising, when I was a boy of sixteen, not yet at college. In truth, it was so by a lucky set of accidents: had not Dr Japp come on his visit, had not the tale flowed from me wi

predecessors which had "found a circ

et, The Pentland Rising, The King's Pardon (otherwise Park Whitehead), Edward Daven, A Country Dance, and A Vendetta in the West. Rat

enson was able to face the somewhat "snell" air of the hills, I had long walks with the old gentleman, when we also had long talks on many subjects-the liberalising of the Scottish Church, educational reform, etc.; and, on one occasion, a statement of his reason, because of the subscription, for never having become an elder. That he had in some small measure enjoyed my society, as I certainly had much enjoyed his, was borne out by a lett

you to keep the book. Of all things you could do to endear yourself to me you

s, and still gives me 'a list to starboard'-let us be ever nautical. . . . I do not think with the start I have, there will be any difficulty in letting Mr Henderson go ahead whenever he likes. I will write my story up to its legitimate

ter came th

e, Castleto

da

that I have written seem to me on a false venue; hence the smallness of the batch. I hav

ngs, and things, should make, I believe, an

warded after you to Dinnat.-Believe me, you

n superintending the building of a breakwater. Of that time, too, he told the choicest stories, and especially of how, against all orders, he bribed Bob with five shillings to let him go down in the diver's dress. He gave us a splendid description-finer, I think, than even that in h

have said, to accept the office. In a very express sense you could see that he bore the marks of his past in many ways-a quick, sensitive, in some ways even a fantastic-minded man, yet with a strange solidity and common-sense amid it all, just as though ferns with the veritable fairies' seed were to grow out of a common stone wall. He looked like a man who had not been without sleepless nights-without troubles, sorrows, and perplexities, and even yet, had not w

Chief Court is called in Scotland, from the building having been while yet there was a Scottish Parliament the place where it sat), though truly one cannot help feeling how much Stevenson's very air and figure would have been out of keeping among the bewigged, pushing, sharp-set, hard-featured, and even red-faced and red-nosed (some of them, at any rate) company, who daily walked the Pa

evensons, and adorning a profession in Edinburgh, and so winning new and welcome laurels for the family and the name, was still present with him constantly, and by contrast, he was depressed with contemplation of the real state of the case, when, as I have said, I pointed out to him, as more than once I did, what an influence his son was wielding now, not only over those near to him, but throughout the world, compared with what could have come to him as a lighthouse engineer, however successful, or it may be as a briefless advocate or barrister, walking, hardly in glory and in joy, the Hall of the Ed

els in America, he met a gentleman who expressed plainly his keen disappointment on learning that he had but been introduced to the son and not to the father-to the as yet but budding author-and not to the builder of the great lighthouse beacons that constantly saved mariners from shipwreck round many stormy coasts,

segui t

ire a glorios

de was exactly the man to appreciate such attainments and work in another, and I often wond

ntent on brotherly offices. He had the Scottish perfervidum too-he could tolerate nothing mean or creeping; and his eye would lighten and glance in a striking manner when such was spoken of. I have since heard that his charities were very extensive, and dispensed in the most hidden and secret ways. He acted here on the Scripture direction, "Let not thy left hand know what thy right hand doeth." He was much exercised when I saw him about some defects, as he held, in the methods of Scotch education (for he was a true lover of youth, and cared more for character being formed than for heads being merely crammed). Sagacious, with fine forecast, with a high ideal, and yet up to a certain point a most tolerant temper, he was

could well sympathise with such views, if I did not hold them, knowing well the strange ways in which they had gone to form grand, if sometimes sternly forbidding charac

haracteristic letter t

uol, Davo

land. (

send you a copy of the Familiar Studies. However, I own I have delayed this letter till I could send you the

o some publis

, believe me, alwa

ouis Ste

to see you i

ms, by R. L. Stevenson, printed by Samuel Osbourn

t-Buol

1st,

e of corrected proofs. This is one of the results: I hope there are none more serious. I was never so sick of any volume as I was of that; I was continually receiving fresh proofs with fresh infinitesimal difficulties. I was ill; I did really fear, fo

e, and I communicated your remarks, which pleased him. He

e you should have picked it out for praise from a collectio

ten since December ninety Cornhill pp. of Magazine work-essays and stories-40,000 words; and I am none the worse-I am better. I begin to hope I may

perhaps send them on to me. I believe you know that I am not d

ered, and Sam also sends as a present

ouis Ste

so late a date as 1893, I will here extract two characteristic passages from the letters of the friend and correspondent of

cting. Your paper is pleasant and modest: most of R. L. Stevenson's admirers are inclined to lay it on far too thick. That he is a genius we all admit; but his genius, if fine, is limited. For example, he cannot paint (or at least he never has painted)

ather, was a very touchy theologian, and denounced any one who in the least differed from his extreme Calvinistic views. I came under his lash most unwittingly in this way myself. But for this twist, he was a good fellow-kind and hospitable-and a really able man in his profession. His father-in-law, R. L. Stevenson's maternal grandfather, was the Rev. Dr Balfour, minister of Colinton-one of the finest-looking old men I ever saw-tall,

de of Edinburgh opinion, illustrating the old Scripture doctrine that a prophet has honour everywhere but in his own country. And the passages themselves bear evidence that I violate no confide