Tag Archives: places

“If I ever write an account of this voyage, may I place this letter at the beginning?”

Posted on July 3, 2019 by mafalda

[As usual, for correct and critical edition of this letter see Mehew 6, 2123.] To John Addington Symonds [Colvin 1911, 3, pp. 89-91] [Tautira] November 11th, 1888 One November night, in the village of Tautira, we sat at the high … Continue reading →

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Posted in Letters, Robert Louis Stevenson | Tagged account, art, artist, beauty, bed, Casco, chairs, chief, chorus, circumstances, climate, clouds, colours, dark, Davos, fate, foreign, forest, fortune, friends, frost, hall of assembly, happiness, heaven, ignorance, islands, lamplight, lantern, lawn, lodges, moonlight, natives, night, Ori a Ori, Pacific Ocean, palms, pine-trees, places, pleasure, poetry, properties, race, rattle, reef, Robert Louis Stevenson, sea, shadows, sickrooms, Silver Ship, solitude, songs, stars, strange, style, sun, Symonds, Tahiti, Tautira, travellers, tropic, verse, visitor, voyage, warm, wind, wood | Leave a comment

“Get out your big atlas”

Posted on April 25, 2019 by mafalda

[Dots between square brackets indicate cuts made by Sidney Colvin. For correct and critical edition of this letter see Mehew 6, 2109.] To Sidney Colvin [Colvin 1911, 3, pp. 78-80] Fakarava, Low Archipelago, September 21st, 1888 My dear Colvin, Only … Continue reading →

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Posted in Letters, Robert Louis Stevenson | Tagged Anaho, body, Bondelais straits, brigantine, Casco, cold, Colvin, cruise, Dangerous Archipelago, diary, dress, Fakarava, health, Henley, Hiva-Oa, horse, house, James, Low Archipelago, mangoes, Marquesas Islands, night, Nukahiva, Old Man Virulent, Papeete, places, races, Robert Louis Stevenson, Rona-Poa, San Francisco, sea, shells, sickness, South Seas, Taakauku, Tai-o-hae, Taiti, Ua-pu, verandahs, voyage | Leave a comment

“The tales are like the fox, the goose, and the cabbage of the ferryman”

Posted on October 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, 1732.] To Lady Taylor [Colvin 1912, pp. 220-222] Skerryvore, Bournemouth [23 December 1886] My dear Lady … Continue reading →

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Posted in Letters, Robert Louis Stevenson | Tagged Amory, angels, book, box- goose-cottage-ferryman, dates, Dowden, genius, growing up, humour, intelligence, irony, justice, London, penny-a-liner, philosophy, places, Robert Louis Stevenson, schoolgirl, Scotch, Shelley, Skerryvore, tales, Taylor, time, Viviani | Leave a comment

I have survived myself, and somehow live on, a curious changeling, a merry ghost

Posted on July 20, 2014 by mafalda

The old print which RLS is alluding here still remains unidentified. [Dots between square brackets indicate cuts made by Sidney Colvin. For full, correct and critical edition of this letter, see Mehew 2, 388]. To Fanny Sitwell [Colvin, 1912, pp. … Continue reading →

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Posted in Letters, Robert Louis Stevenson | Tagged alone, asleep, beards, birds, blue, bright, by-way, changeling, chorus, cities, clamorous, constraint, cool, corn lands, cottages, darkness, day, death, dormitive, earth, evening, experience, eyes, fancy, Fanny Sitwell, farm-houses, fault, feeling, foul, French, George Sand, ghost, goodly, grass, grave, grey, heart, hermit, hermitage, high-way, hills, house, inn, iron bars, jolly, kingdoms, kirk-yard, labour, late, laughing, life, loud, merry, mile, mourners, night, night-flowers, noise, novel, old print, penitence, perfect, places, poplars, prison, ripe, rivers, road, Robert Louis Stevenson, room, serious, show, sight, sleep, slumber, soon, spirit, stone walls, sun, sunny, surf, survive, Swanston, sweet, temptation, toils, towns, travelling, trees, troubles, turmoil, unknown, weak, weary, weeping, white, wicked, wind, window, wood, world | Leave a comment

Tag Archives: places

“If I ever write an account of this voyage, may I place this letter at the beginning?”

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“Get out your big atlas”

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“The tales are like the fox, the goose, and the cabbage of the ferryman”

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I have survived myself, and somehow live on, a curious changeling, a merry ghost

Rate this:

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