Tag Archives: weather

“You always complain there are no facts in my letters”

Posted on February 4, 2018 by mafalda

A succession of RLS’s friends had visited and spent part of the day or the evening with him at his hotel in London, on Sunday, August 20th 1887, each bringing some farewell gift or another. On the morning of the … Continue reading →

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Posted in Letters, Robert Louis Stevenson | Tagged Bagmen, Beasts, berths, boats, Boldsprit, champagne, Colvin, Commodore, deck, Europe, France, head-gear, James, Latin, Le Havre, Ludgate Hill, Margate, meal, proofs, Robert Louis Stevenson, sea, sea-gulls, sexes, ships, sleep, steamers, tide, voyage, voyagers, Vulgarians, weather | 1 Comment

Some day climb as high as Halkerside for me, and sprinkle some of the well water on the turf

Posted on December 29, 2017 by mafalda

[Dots between square brackets indicate cuts made by Sidney Colvin. For full, correct and critical edition of this letter, see Mehew 5, 1795.] To Alison Cunningham [Colvin 1911, 2, pp. 368-370] Skerryvore, April 16th, 1887 My dearest Cummy, As usual, … Continue reading →

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Posted in Letters, Robert Louis Stevenson | Tagged blackbird, Bogie, burnside, childhoo, Coolin, correspondence, Cummy, Cunningham, Fanny, father, fight, forbears, garden, Halkerside, health, heart, inscription, James, jaundice, John, Latin, letters, Longman’s Magazine, money, mother, pagan rite, Pastoral, Peewies, pool, Robert Louis Stevenson, Sabbie day, Scotch, Skerryvore, Swanston, thankfulness, Thomas Stevenson, Todd, tombstone, turf, virtues, water, weather, well, wife, youth | Leave a comment

“I write this from bed, snow pouring without, and no circumstance of pleasure except your letter”

Posted on April 2, 2017 by mafalda

[Dots between square brackets indicate cuts made by Sidney Colvin. For full, correct and critical edition of this letter, see Mehew 5, 1569.] To Will H. Low [Colvin 1911, 2, pp. 326-328] [Skerryvore, Bournemouth, 5 March 1886] My dear Low, … Continue reading →

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Posted in Letters, Robert Louis Stevenson | Tagged angels, anxiety, bed, Century Magazine, conscience, doggerel, fatigue, health, hemorrhage, horror, Low, lungs, Malade Imaginaire, money, Rhone, Robert Louis Stevenson, Skerryvore, snow, symptom, train, travel-book, trip, weather | Leave a comment

It is bad enough to have to live by an art – but to think to live by an art combined with commercial speculation – that way madness lies

Posted on October 7, 2016 by mafalda

About Easter 1885, RLS and Fanny entered into occupation of a house of their own, given by Thomas Stevenson as a special gift to his daughter-in-law, and renamed Skerryvore, in reminiscence of one of the great lighthouse works carried out … Continue reading →

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Posted in Letters, Robert Louis Stevenson | Tagged Admiral Guinea, art, Bournemouth, commercial speculation, drudgery, hate, health, Henley, income, journalism, Kidnapped, legacy, madness, money, plays, Robert Louis Stevenson, Skerryvore, stage, time, weather | Leave a comment

I do not love to think of my countrymen these days: nor to remember myself. Why was I silent?

Posted on August 30, 2016 by mafalda

[Dots between square brackets indicate cuts made by Sidney Colvin. For full, correct and critical edition of this letter, see Mehew 5, 1399.] To Sidney Colvin [Colvin 1911, 2, pp. 266-267] Bonallie Towers, Bournemouth, [c. 8 March 1885] My dear … Continue reading →

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Posted in Letters, Robert Louis Stevenson | Tagged blabbing, Bournemouth, Burgessry, career, character, Colvin, correspondence, countrymen, criminal, dead, degradation, England, essential, failure, Fanny, fellow, forgive, friends, G.O.M., galvanised, Gladstone, gratifying, life, misbegotten, people, politics, portrait, Preface, privacy, proprieties, Robert Louis Stevenson, signature, silent, sitter, spying, Talk and Talkers, true, weather, wife | Leave a comment

It blows an equinoctial gale. Nimbus Britannicus; piping wind, lashing rain

Posted on May 14, 2016 by mafalda

RLS was compelled to abandon the hope of making his permanent home at Hyères, partly by the renewed failure there of his own health, partly by a bad outbreak of cholera which occurred in the old Provençal town about the … Continue reading →

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Posted in Letters, Robert Louis Stevenson | Tagged anchor, ashore, Bournemouth, clouds, colour, gale, health, Henley, Latin, lockers, money, Nimbus Britannicus, Old Harry, parents, plays, rain, Robert Louis Stevenson, sea, ships, weather, Wensleydale, wind equinox | 1 Comment

I spy a little bright cafe in one corner of the port, in front of which I now propose we should sit down

Posted on May 4, 2016 by mafalda

There is no certain clue to the date of the following; neither has it been possible to make sure what was the enclosure mentioned. The special illness referred to seems to be that of the beginning of May 1884. [Dots … Continue reading →

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Posted in Letters, Robert Louis Stevenson | Tagged adventure, anchor, art, ashore, Aunt Anne's Tea Cosy, bed, beginning, blood, Blood Money, book, café, Chapter I, city, dialog, dream, drink, Dumas, end, fancy, Filibuster’s Cache, fun, harbour, Henley, horseman, husks, Indies, Isle St. Louis, Jerry Abershaw, jest, John Silver, lantern, letters, live, manners, mark, middle age, Mrs. Brierly's Niece, Nancy, Norway, notary, parrots, pilot, place, port, prophecy, Robert Louis Stevenson, Romance, roquelaure, Rossignol, Scott, Seadrift, ships, Skelt, society, sound, spell, stern-windows, swords, talk, time, tobacco, Treasure Island, unwritten, weather, will, Willesden Common, women, years, youth | 1 Comment

Tag Archives: weather

“You always complain there are no facts in my letters”

Rate this:

Some day climb as high as Halkerside for me, and sprinkle some of the well water on the turf

Rate this:

“I write this from bed, snow pouring without, and no circumstance of pleasure except your letter”

Rate this:

It is bad enough to have to live by an art – but to think to live by an art combined with commercial speculation – that way madness lies

Rate this:

I do not love to think of my countrymen these days: nor to remember myself. Why was I silent?

Rate this:

It blows an equinoctial gale. Nimbus Britannicus; piping wind, lashing rain

Rate this:

I spy a little bright cafe in one corner of the port, in front of which I now propose we should sit down

Rate this:

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