Robert Louis Stevenson

Robert Louis Stevenson

1850–1894 · lived 44 years GB GB

Robert Louis Stevenson was a Scottish poet, novelist, and travel writer, best known for "Treasure Island" and "Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde." His work often explores themes of duality, adventure, and the supernatural, blending romanticism with a keen psychological insight. Stevenson's vivid prose and compelling narratives have secured his place as a significant figure in English literature.

n. 1850-11-13, Edimburgo · m. 1894-12-03, Vailima

41,576 Views

You Looked So Tempting In The Pew

You Looked So Tempting In The Pew
YOU looked so tempting in the pew,
You looked so sly and calm -
My trembling fingers played with yours
As both looked out the Psalm.
Your heart beat hard against my arm,
My foot to yours was set,
Your loosened ringlet burned my cheek
Whenever they two met.
O little, little we hearkened, dear,
And little, little cared,
Although the parson sermonised,
The congregation stared.
Read full poem
Bio

Identification and basic context

Robert Louis Balfour Stevenson was a prolific Scottish writer. He is celebrated for his novels, novellas, poems, and travel writings. His most famous works include "Treasure Island," "Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde," and "Kidnapped." Stevenson's writing often delves into the complexities of human nature, the allure of adventure, and the darker aspects of the psyche. His contributions span various genres, leaving a lasting impact on literature.

Childhood and education

Born into a family of prominent civil engineers, Stevenson's early life was marked by a frail constitution and frequent illnesses, including respiratory problems. Despite his physical challenges, he received a rigorous education. He attended the University of Edinburgh, initially studying engineering and then law, though his passion for writing led him to pursue literature. His childhood was filled with stories and a vivid imagination, which would later fuel his creative endeavors. He was exposed to a wide range of literature and intellectual discussions within his family and social circles.

Literary trajectory

Stevenson's literary career began to gain momentum in the 1870s. His early works included essays and travelogues, such as "An Inland Voyage" and "Travels with a Donkey in the Cévennes." He gained significant recognition with the publication of "Treasure Island" in 1883, followed by "Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde" in 1886. His output was prolific, encompassing novels, short stories, poetry, and essays. His work evolved over time, moving from travel writing and essays to powerful fictional narratives that explored moral and psychological themes. He also contributed to various periodicals and collaborated on plays.

Works, style, and literary characteristics

Stevenson's major works include "Treasure Island" (1883), "Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde" (1886), "Kidnapped" (1886), and "The Master of Ballantrae" (1889). His dominant themes often revolve around adventure, morality, the duality of human nature, the supernatural, and the exotic. His style is characterized by clarity, vivid imagery, and a strong narrative drive. He masterfully employed storytelling techniques, creating memorable characters and compelling plots. His poetic works, such as "A Child's Garden of Verses," showcase a different, more lyrical and imaginative side. He was adept at creating suspense and exploring psychological depths within his characters. His language is precise and evocative, contributing to the immersive quality of his stories. While often associated with adventure fiction, his works also carry profound philosophical and moral undertones.

Cultural and historical context

Stevenson lived during the Victorian era, a period of significant social, industrial, and intellectual change in Britain. His work often reflects the era's fascination with exploration, empire, and the contrasting forces of progress and tradition. He was part of a literary scene that included contemporaries like George Meredith and Andrew Lang. His adventurous spirit and extensive travels also positioned him as a chronicler of different cultures and landscapes, engaging with the burgeoning interest in anthropology and geography of his time. His exploration of the darker side of human nature and societal hypocrisy can be seen as a commentary on the complexities of Victorian society.

Personal life

Stevenson's personal life was marked by his ongoing struggles with ill health, which significantly influenced his writing and his choice of residence. He married Fanny Vandegrift Osbourne, an American woman he met in France. Their relationship was a source of support and inspiration for him. His travels, often undertaken in search of a healthier climate, led him to live in various parts of the world, including the United States, Samoa, and the South Pacific. These experiences deeply enriched his understanding of different cultures and provided settings for his later works. He maintained friendships with other writers and artists, though his health often limited his social engagements.

Recognition and reception

During his lifetime, Stevenson achieved considerable fame and critical acclaim, particularly for his adventure novels. He was recognized as a significant literary voice of his generation. Posthumously, his reputation continued to grow, cementing his status as a classic author. His works have been widely translated and have remained consistently in print, appealing to both young and adult readers. While some critics have focused on his adventure elements, others have delved into the deeper psychological and philosophical aspects of his writing.

Influences and legacy

Stevenson was influenced by a range of authors, including Sir Walter Scott, Charles Dickens, and Edgar Allan Poe. His own work, in turn, has had a profound influence on countless writers, particularly in the genres of adventure, gothic, and children's literature. His innovative narrative techniques and explorations of character have left an indelible mark on storytelling. "Treasure Island" remains a cornerstone of adventure fiction, and "Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde" has become a cultural touchstone for exploring themes of duality. His legacy endures through his enduring popularity and his continued presence in educational curricula and popular culture.

Interpretation and critical analysis

Stevenson's works are often analyzed for their exploration of moral dilemmas, the conflict between civilization and savagery, and the nature of identity. The duality presented in "Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde" has been interpreted in various ways, from psychoanalytic perspectives to broader social commentary on repression and freedom. Critics often examine his use of symbolism, his engagement with themes of the uncanny, and his ability to create gripping narratives that also provoke thought. His exploration of the exotic and the 'other' in works like "The Beach of Falesá" also invites critical discussion regarding colonialism and cultural representation.

Curiosities and lesser-known aspects

Stevenson was known for his distinctive appearance, often wearing a velvet jacket and a jaunty hat. He had a lifelong fascination with the macabre and the supernatural, which informed much of his fiction. His intense desire to write and create, despite his chronic ill health, is a testament to his determination. He was also a keen observer of human nature and social customs, which he captured vividly in his writings. His nomadic lifestyle, dictated by his health, allowed him to experience a wide array of environments and cultures, shaping his unique perspective.

Death and memory

Robert Louis Stevenson died of a cerebral hemorrhage in 1894. He was buried on Mount Vaea in Samoa, overlooking the Pacific Ocean. His tomb is marked by an inscription of his own poem, "Requiem." His death was mourned by many, and his legacy has been preserved through his enduring literary works, which continue to be read, studied, and adapted worldwide.

Poems

108

Ad Se Ipsum

Ad Se Ipsum
DEAR sir, good-morrow! Five years back,
When you first girded for this arduous track,
And under various whimsical pretexts
Endowed another with your damned defects,
Could you have dreamed in your despondent vein
That the kind God would make your path so plain?
Non nobis, domine! O, may He still
Support my stumbling footsteps on the hill!
396

Air Of Diabelli's

Air Of Diabelli's
CALL it to mind, O my love.
Dear were your eyes as the day,
Bright as the day and the sky;
Like the stream of gold and the sky above,
Dear were your eyes in the grey.
We have lived, my love, O, we have lived, my love!
Now along the silent river, azure
Through the sky's inverted image,
Softly swam the boat that bore our love,
Swiftly ran the shallow of our love
Through the heaven's inverted image,
In the reedy mazes round the river.
See along the silent river,
See of old the lover's shallop steer.
Berried brake and reedy island,
Heaven below and only heaven above.
Through the sky's inverted image
Swiftly swam the boat that bore our love.
Berried brake and reedy island,
Mirrored flower and shallop gliding by.
All the earth and all the sky were ours,
Silent sat the wafted lovers,
Bound with grain and watched by all the sky,
Hand to hand and eye to . . . eye.
Days of April, airs of Eden,
Call to mind how bright the vanished angel hours,
Golden hours of evening,
When our boat drew homeward filled with flowers.
O darling, call them to mind; love the past, my love.
Days of April, airs of Eden.
How the glory died through golden hours,
And the shining moon arising;
How the boat drew homeward filled with flowers.
Age and winter close us slowly in.
Level river, cloudless heaven,
Islanded reed mazes, silver weirs;
How the silent boat with silver
Threads the inverted forest as she goes,
Broke the trembling green of mirrored trees.
O, remember, and remember
How the berries hung in garlands.
Still in the river see the shallop floats.
Hark! Chimes the falling oar.
Still in the mind
Hark to the song of the past!
Dream, and they pass in their dreams.
Those that loved of yore, O those that loved of yore!


Hark through the stillness, O darling, hark!
Through it all the ear of the mind
Knows the boat of love. Hark!
Chimes the falling oar.
O half in vain they grew old.
Now the halcyon days are over,
Age and winter close us slowly round,
And these sounds at fall of even
Dim the sight and muffle all the sound.
And at the married fireside, sleep of soul and sleep of fancy,
Joan and Darby.
Silence of the world without a sound;
And beside the winter faggot
Joan and Darby sit and dose and dream and wake -
Dream they hear the flowing, singing river,
See the berries in the island brake;
Dream they hear the weir,
See the gliding shallop mar the stream.
Hark! in your dreams do you hear?
Snow has filled the drifted forest;
Ice has bound the . . . stream.
Frost has bound our flowing river;
Snow has whitened all our island brake.
Berried brake and reedy island,
Heaven below and only heaven above azure
Through the sky's inverted image
Safely swam the boat that bore our love.
Dear were your eyes as the day,
Bright ran the stream, bright hung the sky above.
Days of April, airs of Eden.
How the glory died through golden hours,
And the shining moon arising,
How the boat drew homeward filled with flowers.
Bright were your eyes in the night:
We have lived, my love;
O, we have loved, my love.
Now the . . . days are over,
Age and winter close us slowly round.
Vainly time departs, and vainly
Age and winter come and close us round.
Hark the river's long continuous sound.
Hear the river ripples in the reeds.


Lo, in dreams they see their shallop
Run the lilies down and drown the weeds
Mid the sound of crackling faggots.
So in dreams the new created
Happy past returns, to-day recedes,
And they hear once more,
From the old years,
Yesterday returns, to-day recedes,
And they hear with aged hearing warbles
Love's own river ripple in the weeds.
And again the lover's shallop;
Lo, the shallop sheds the streaming weeds;
And afar in foreign countries
In the ears of aged lovers.
And again in winter evens
Starred with lilies . . . with stirring weeds.
In these ears of aged lovers
Love's own river ripples in the reeds.
366

Ad Nepotem

Ad Nepotem
O NEPOS, twice my neigh(b)our (since at home
We're door by door, by Flora's temple dome;
And in the country, still conjoined by fate,
Behold our villas standing gate by gate),
Thou hast a daughter, dearer far than life -
Thy image and the image of thy wife.
Thy image and thy wife's, and be it so!
But why for her, { neglect the flowing } can
{ O Nepos, leave the }
And lose the prime of thy Falernian?
Hoard casks of money, if to hoard be thine;
But let thy daughter drink a younger wine!
Let her go rich and wise, in silk and fur;
Lay down a { bin that shall } grow old with her;
{ vintage to }
But thou, meantime, the while the batch is sound,
With pleased companions pass the bowl around;
Nor let the childless only taste delights,
For Fathers also may enjoy their nights.
445

Ad Piscatorem

Ad Piscatorem
FOR these are sacred fishes all
Who know that lord that is the lord of all;
Come to the brim and nose the friendly hand
That sways and can beshadow all the land.
Nor only so, but have their names, and come
When they are summoned by the Lord of Rome.
Here once his line an impious Lybian threw;
And as with tremulous reed his prey he drew,
Straight, the light failed him.
He groped, nor found the prey that he had ta'en.
Now as a warning to the fisher clan
Beside the lake he sits, a beggarman.
Thou, then, while still thine innocence is pure,
Flee swiftly, nor presume to set thy lure;
Respect these fishes, for their friends are great;
And in the waters empty all thy bait.
336

Ad Magistrum Ludi

Ad Magistrum Ludi
NOW in the sky
And on the hearth of
Now in a drawer the direful cane,
That sceptre of the . . . reign,
And the long hawser, that on the back
Of Marsyas fell with many a whack,
Twice hardened out of Scythian hides,
Now sleep till the October ides.
In summer if the boys be well.
311

A Valentine's Song

A Valentine's Song
MOTLEY I count the only wear
That suits, in this mixed world, the truly wise,
Who boldly smile upon despair
And shake their bells in Grandam Grundy's eyes.
Singers should sing with such a goodly cheer
That the bare listening should make strong like wine,
At this unruly time of year,
The Feast of Valentine.
We do not now parade our "oughts"
And "shoulds" and motives and beliefs in God.
Their life lies all indoors; sad thoughts
Must keep the house, while gay thoughts go abroad,
Within we hold the wake for hopes deceased;
But in the public streets, in wind or sun,
Keep open, at the annual feast,
The puppet-booth of fun.
Our powers, perhaps, are small to please,
But even negro-songs and castanettes,
Old jokes and hackneyed repartees
Are more than the parade of vain regrets.
Let Jacques stand Wert(h)ering by the wounded deer -
We shall make merry, honest friends of mine,
At this unruly time of year,
The Feast of Valentine.
I know how, day by weary day,
Hope fades, love fades, a thousand pleasures fade.
I have not trudged in vain that way
On which life's daylight darkens, shade by shade.
And still, with hopes decreasing, griefs increased,
Still, with what wit I have shall I, for one,
Keep open, at the annual feast,
The puppet-booth of fun.
I care not if the wit be poor,
The old worn motley stained with rain and tears,
If but the courage still endure
That filled and strengthened hope in earlier years;
If still, with friends averted, fate severe,
A glad, untainted cheerfulness be mine
To greet the unruly time of year,
The Feast of Valentine.
Priest, I am none of thine, and see
In the perspective of still hopeful youth
That Truth shall triumph over thee -
Truth to one's self - I know no other truth.
I see strange days for thee and thine, O priest,
And how your doctrines, fallen one by one,
Shall furnish at the annual feast


The puppet-booth of fun.
Stand on your putrid ruins - stand,
White neck-clothed bigot, fixedly the same,
Cruel with all things but the hand,
Inquisitor in all things but the name.
Back, minister of Christ and source of fear -
We cherish freedom - back with thee and thine
From this unruly time of year,
The Feast of Valentine.
Blood thou mayest spare; but what of tears?
But what of riven households, broken faith -
Bywords that cling through all men's years
And drag them surely down to shame and death?
Stand back, O cruel man, O foe of youth,
And let such men as hearken not thy voice
Press freely up the road to truth,
The King's highway of choice.
360

A Good Play

A Good Play
We built a ship upon the stairs
All made of the back-bedroom chairs,
And filled it full of soft pillows
To go a-sailing on the billows.
We took a saw and several nails,
And water in the nursery pails;
And Tom said, "Let us also take
An apple and a slice of cake;"--
Which was enough for Tom and me
To go a-sailing on, till tea.
We sailed along for days and days,
And had the very best of plays;
But Tom fell out and hurt his knee,
So there was no one left but me.
425

A Good Boy

A Good Boy
I woke before the morning, I was happy all the day,
I never said an ugly word, but smiled and stuck to play.
And now at last the sun is going down behind the wood,
And I am very happy, for I know that I've been good.
My bed is waiting cool and fresh, with linen smooth and fair,
And I must be off to sleepsin-by, and not forget my prayer.
I know that, till to-morrow I shall see the sun arise,
No ugly dream shall fright my mind, no ugly sight my eyes.
But slumber hold me tightly till I waken in the dawn,
And hear the thrushes singing in the lilacs round the lawn.
529

Quotes

40

Videos

50

Comments (0)

Share
Log in to post a comment.

No comments yet. Be the first to comment.