Tag Archives: Spring

Art is a diversion and a decoration, no triumph or effort is of value, nor anything worth reaching except charm

[Dots between square brackets indicate cuts made by Sidney Colvin. For full, correct and critical edition of this letter, see Mehew 4, 1238.] To Edmund Gosse [Colvin 1911, 2, pp. 206-208] La Solitude, Hyères, March 17, 1884 My dear Gosse, … Continue reading

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Flush-faced they played with old polysyllables

At Davos, the following experiment in Horatian alcaics was suggested by conversations with Horatio (!) F. Brown (historian specialised in the history of Venice) and J.A. Symonds (historian of the Italian Renaissance), on metrical forms, followed by the despatch of … Continue reading

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You know I was a story-teller ingrain; did not that reassure you?

  The volume of studies was eventually called Familiar Studies of Men and Books (1882), and the one of the essays Virginibus Puerisque (1881). The essays here mentioned on Benjamin Franklin and William Penn were projects long cherished but in … Continue reading

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I shall make an article of it some day soon

Fontainebleau is the paper called Forest Notes which appeared in the Cornhill Magazine, edited by Sir Leslie Stephen, in May 1876 (and then reprinted in Essays of Travel). The Winter’s Walk, one of the most charming of RLS’s essays, was … Continue reading

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The future is thick with inky fingers

The Burns herein mentioned is the article undertaken for the Encyclopædia Britannica. In the end RLS’s work was thought to convey a view of the poet too frankly critical, and too little in accordance with the accepted Scotch tradition: the … Continue reading

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The look of his face was a wine to me

RLS was playing the role of Orsino in the rehearsals of The Twelfth Night for amateur theatricals at Professor Fleeming Jenkin’s. William Ernest Henley, RLS’s new acquaintance, suffered from a tubercolous disease: he had a wooden leg and had been … Continue reading

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Posted in Letters, Robert Louis Stevenson | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 2 Comments

O, I have such a longing for children of my own; and yet I do not think I could bear it if I had one

RLS’s first introduction to the English poet William Ernest Henley (1849-1903): the acquaintance ripened quickly into a close and stimulating friendship. Henley suffered from a tubercolous disease: he had a wooden leg, and when the desease threatened his other foot, … Continue reading

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