Tag Archives: interest

“It is a far finer thing to be in love, or to risk a danger, than to paint the finest picture or write the noblest book”

Posted on May 14, 2017 by mafalda

[As usual, dots between square brackets indicate cuts made by Sidney Colvin. For full, correct and critical edition of this letter, see Mehew 5, 1642.] To Harriet Monroe [Colvin 1911, 2, pp. 335-338] [Skerryvore, Bournemouth, 30 June 1886] My dear … Continue reading →

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Posted in Letters, Robert Louis Stevenson | Tagged activity, adventures, Alan Breck, art, author, autobiography, bed, Book Reader, books, Bournemouth, Cambridge, Chicago, classes, complexions, Crabtree, culture, David Balfour, death, Edinburgh, elderly, friendship, future, grammar, health, Hebrides which, interest, Kidnapped, letters, life, lighthouses, love, manuscripts, Monroe, monuments, open air, paint, past, pen, photograph, Platz, pleasures, Prince Otto, pyramids, regrets, restaurant, risk, Robert Louis Stevenson, Seraphina, shadow, silence, sins, Skerryvore, State, Thomas Stevenson, ticket collector, Virginibus Puerisque, voice, world, write, young | Leave a comment

My heart and all my interest are with the dweller, that ancient of days and day-old infant, man

Posted on November 22, 2016 by mafalda

The paper referred to in this letter is one which William Archer wrote over his own signature (‘RLS: His Style and his Thought’) in the November number of Time, a magazine already extinct at the time of Colvin’s edition of … Continue reading →

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Posted in Letters, Robert Louis Stevenson | Tagged affectation, Archer, art, authors, backslidden, bereaved, bright, burthen, business, canoe, change, children, communist, conscience, crime, Critic, dank, day-old, depression, dispirited, dweller, eating, evil, fad, Fanny, fixture, French, gay, gymnasium, hag, happy, health, heart, hell, His Style and his Thought, house, humanity, impotence, infant, institution, interest, italics, laws, life, lightness, literature, luxury, mail, man, manner, modern, movement, music, narrative, Patience, paupers, pleasures, practice, principles, reader, rejoicing, remarks, Robert Louis Stevenson, sanitary, sharpness, sick, sincere, skeleton, Skerryvore, sling, smoking, sorrows, spirit, stable, style, telegraph, theology, Thoreau, time, touch, travel, typography, vacuity, walk, Week on the Concord and Merrimack Rivers | Leave a comment

My dear Henry James… the unpolished diamond is but a stone

Posted on June 29, 2016 by mafalda

[For correct and critical edition of this letter, see Mehew 5, 1346.] To Henry James [Colvin 1911, 2, pp. 254-256] Bonallie Towers, Branksome Park, Bournemouth, December 8, 1884 My dear Henry James, This is a very brave hearing from more … Continue reading →

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Posted in Letters, Robert Louis Stevenson | Tagged abstract, academic, accomplished, admirer, adroit, adventure, agree, art, artifice, attitude, audience, besotted, Bonallie Towers, Bournemouth, Branksome Park, characters, claret, complimented, corn, countryman, craftsmanlike, despair, dialogue, diamond, difference, education, envy, Fanny, incidents, interest, invalid, James, Lady Barberina, laity, left-handed, life, literature, lout, Macduff, mind, novel, Pennyman, people, performance, pinewoods, precision, proportion, public, purpose, reader, reflection, rejoinder, remarks, risk, Robert Louis Stevenson, rude, sea, seconder, sentiments, sequel, Shakespeare, sin, situations, slouch, stone, stories, stuff, suppressions, syllabub, Tom Jones, visits, writer | 1 Comment

Can I make some one happier this day before I lie down to sleep?

Posted on January 7, 2015 by mafalda

The Amateur Emigrant, an account of RLS’s journey to California, was then in draft. The novel A Vendetta in the West was eventually abandoned and apparently destroyed. The Pavilion on the Links had just then been accepted for the Cornhill … Continue reading →

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Posted in Letters, Robert Louis Stevenson | Tagged 608 Bush Street, A Vendetta in the West, alive, Amateur Emigrant, amateur rudder, Bohemian Club, brothel, buried, Caldecott, chanse, cheap, child, Christendie, constitution, consumption, dead hand, dead man, death, desire, difficulty, dust, enclosures, engineers, family, Fortnightly, French, grave, happiness, harridan, hatred, health, heart, heroine, hill, home, hunter, industry, interest, jurymas, kindness, Latin, leaders, living, love, married, misery, Morley, nitor aquis, notes, novels, offences, pardon, Pavilion on the Links, pikters, poem, Prince of Grünewald, prophesy, Providence and the Guitar, question, Requiem, Robert Louis Stevenson, rum, sailor, San Francisco, Sand-lot agitation, Scotch, scraping, sea, services, Sidney Colvin, sketch, sleep, socialist, Stephen, stories, tomb, topgallant sails, unlike, visitor, Will o’ the Mill | Leave a comment

When I suffer in mind, stories are my refuge; I take them like opium; and I consider one who writes them as a sort of doctor of the mind

Posted on January 4, 2015 by mafalda

One day at the Savile Club in London, RLS, hearing a certain laugh, cried out that he must know the laugher, who turned out to be a fellow-countryman, John Meiklejohn, the well-known educational authority and professor at St. Andrews University. … Continue reading →

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Posted in Letters, Robert Louis Stevenson | Tagged 608 Bush Street, answer, Arabian Nights, Asiatic, Balzac, belabour, blood and bones, body, Burns, bush, California, Charles Reade, copy, corner, Cornhill, doctor of the mind, drug, Dumas, easy mind, fate, feet, fortune, French, fun, gangrel, George Eliot, good talk, grandmamma, harassed, health, hot corner, idle, improvisatore, incident, interest, Latin, literature, luncheon, masses, Meiklejohn, middleagee, mind, morals, mystery, national, opium, ostrich, paper, philosophy, pleasure, poetic, posteriors, puir, pure, refuge, regard, Robert Louis Stevenson, rock, San Francisco, Shairp, shake hands, Shakespeare, sick, Spectator, Stephen, stories, story, storybook, suffer, thankless, Thoreau, trouvère, vanity, Walter Scott, wholesome, work, world, write, Yoshida Torajiro | Leave a comment

It is pleasant to be thus most at home abroad

Posted on November 14, 2014 by mafalda

P.G. Hamerton was an English painter, art critic, author and editor of The Portfolio periodical. The following refers to his candidature, which was not successful, for the Professorship of Fine Art at Edinburgh. [As usual, dots between square brackets indicate … Continue reading →

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Posted in Letters, Robert Louis Stevenson | Tagged abroad, American, book, California, clime, conveyance, countenance, damn, distant, Edinburgh, election, Essay, Essays on Art, father, friends, Hamerton, home, ill, ill-health, influence, interest, international, letter, mend, mistake, Monterey, moonlight, mossy, pale, Post Office, professors, prophet, publisher, recommendation, Robert Louis Stevenson, ruin, tan | Leave a comment

I envy you your wife, your home, your child – I was going to say your cat

Posted on October 18, 2014 by mafalda

The ‘humorous friend’ was Charles Baxter: RLS stayed the weekend with the Baxters at Lochcote House near Bathgate, now demolished. Edmund William Gosse used to sign with two initials, E.W.G. The nickname Weg was fastened on him by RLS, partly … Continue reading →

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Posted in Letters, Robert Louis Stevenson | Tagged 17 Heriot Row, admiration, anger, anxieties, Bathgate, beginner, brave, breath, cat, character, cheery, child, consummation, contempt, creature, crew, daughter, defy, departure, Edinburgh, envy, friend, frolic, glad, Gosse, health, hindmost, home, human beings, humour, husband, impersonation, initials, interest, lad, landlord, lass, life, Lochcote, lunch, maid, married, Miss Stewart, mother, oil colour; so I wrote her a declaration in verse, pock-pudding, poet, rival, Robert Louis Stevenson, Royal Hotel, sad, Sawbath, Scotch Church, secrets, seventh heaven, silence, Spectator, spirits, sprawling, statesman, suffused, survival, tired, trouble, tub, unconscious, unmanly, vapour, vernacular, verses, waiting, warm, Weg, wife, window, wit, witness, world | Leave a comment

Tag Archives: interest

“It is a far finer thing to be in love, or to risk a danger, than to paint the finest picture or write the noblest book”

Rate this:

My heart and all my interest are with the dweller, that ancient of days and day-old infant, man

Rate this:

My dear Henry James… the unpolished diamond is but a stone

Rate this:

Can I make some one happier this day before I lie down to sleep?

Rate this:

When I suffer in mind, stories are my refuge; I take them like opium; and I consider one who writes them as a sort of doctor of the mind

Rate this:

It is pleasant to be thus most at home abroad

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I envy you your wife, your home, your child – I was going to say your cat

Rate this:

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