Critical Inspection of a Myth

Robert Louis Stevenson*

"The Stevenson Myth." It is an open question whether Stevenson is loved more for his work or his work for him. Certainly the worship of authors has never gone to greater lengths--lengths possibly of questionable value to their object. Idolatry has made of R. L. S. a figure dizzily perched on the precarious eminence of perfection. He is permitted no faults, no weaknesses--other than the exalted one of physical ill-health. On the other hand, there have been daring iconoclasts no less superlative in their attacks upon this knight of the spotless scutcheon-- notably W. E. Henley, his erstwhile patron and intimate, who registered savage protest against the "Seraph in Chocolate," the "Barley-Sugar Effigy" of legend. With nicely considered moderation, Mr. Steuart aims at the truth behind the haze of contradiction.

The Man Stevenson. ". . . He was badly put together, a slithering, loose flail of a fellow, all joints, elbows and exposed spindle shanks, his trousers being generally a foot too short in the leg. He was so like a scarecrow that one almost expected him to creak in the wind ... his long lank hair fell straggling to his shoulders, giving him the look of a quack or a gypsy." "In class, when it pleased him to attend, he was the worst-behaved man of my acquaintance."

This picture of R. L. S. from a fellow-student is not inaccurate for his entire career As he grew older, his tubercular thinness tended toward emaciation. Always he delighted to emphasize his eccentricities. His queer foreign face, bright-eyed and animated, peered forth under a battered straw hat. He was wont to wear velvet jackets, brigandish cloaks, black shirts, loose collars-- the whole as shabby and disreputable as any tramp's. Thus garbed, he delighted in the astonished gaze of the passersby.

Stevenson himself said that he was forced to keep low company because he could not afford better. "I was the companion of seamen, chimney-sweeps and thieves," says he, "not without a touch of swagger." To his disreputable drunken intimates of bars and "howffs", he was known as "velvet-coat," and amongst them he sowed his wild oats with a generous hand. He was socially ostracised. Victorian smugness turned on him a discreet back.

Chiefest and best known among his peccant intimates of those stormy days was the lady known as "Claire", a Highland lass, actually named Kate Drummond, "slim and dark, very trim and neat, with jet-black hair." She was one of the class aptly known as "unfortunates", but Stevenson's affection for her appears rot to have been wholly sensual. Rather she filled a gap for him. He was a lonely youth, with few intimates other than his drunken cronies. She stands out significantly among all his later amours--reputable and otherwise. And Stevenson was ever the lover, his hot eager nature never happy unless his emotions were fed with passion.

Stevenson is spoken of as perpetually gay in the midst of physical agony, financial reverses, artistic disappointment. It is true that he was of a buoyant nature--a genial bubble riding stormy seas. But he was subject to fits of overwhelming depression. "Oh Medea, kill me or make me young again!" he cries at the age of 23.

The famous quarrel with Henley, his early friend and supporter, Mr. Steuart treats at length. It was not, as generally supposed, a sudden thing, but the result of a succession of minor episodes. And it was, it appears, largely the fault of Stevenson, whose hot rage would never forgive a fancied disloyalty. Henley himself never harbored resentment, in spite of his disparaging criticism of his former friend, often regarded as evidence of a vengeful nature.

Stevenson's love of pose, his affectations, his theatric sense Mr. Steuart sees again in his last days in Samoa, as a sort of white chief, a lord of the manor among the admiring natives. "A bouncing egotist who loves the limelight as a beachcomber loves rum," said his neighbors.

The Biography. For the first time, R. L. S. is observed without prejudice. And for the first time the facts appear at last to be accessible about this strange, heroic figure. Mr. Steuart does not slur over his defects. He sets down the facts accurately but sympathetically, substitutes for the idol a man. His estimate of Stevenson's work is careful and just. He sees him as a writer not of the first rank--a master of the English language, doing perfectly things of secondary significance. But whatever his merits as an artist, as a man he stands among the heroes.

*ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON -- A CRITICAL BIOGRAPHY--John H. Steuart--Little, Brown (2 vol., $8.00).