The Master of Ballantrae (Barnes & Noble Digital Library): A Winter's Tale

By Jason Marc Harris and Robert Louis Stevenson

This edition includes a modern introduction and a list of suggested further reading.  The Master of Ballantrae is a Gothic romance of adventure and revenge. Brothers Henry and James Durie take opposite sides during the Jacobite uprising of 1745 to ensure the survival of their estate regardless of the outcome of the war. Believing that James had died along with the hopes of the Stuarts at the Battle of Culloden, Henry acquires his brother's property. However, things are not so simple. Throughout the next four years "there was a shadow on that house, the shadow of the Master of Ballantrae."

• Language: English
• Publisher: Barnes & Noble
• Release date: Mar 13, 2012
• ISBN: 9781411466104

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THE MASTER OF BALLANTRAE

A Winter's Tale

ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON

INTRODUCTION BY JASON MARC HARRIS

Introduction and Suggested Reading © 2006 by Barnes & Noble, Inc.

This 2012 edition published by Barnes & Noble, Inc.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without prior written permission from the publisher.

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INTRODUCTION

ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON’S THE MASTER OF BALLANTRAE IS A Gothic romance of adventure and revenge. The narrative opens during one of the most dramatic moments of Scottish history: the final armed rebellion against the English ruling family, the Hanoverians, by the supporters of the Scottish royal line of Stuart, the Jacobites. The focus of the story is not on the broader political events but on the explosive fraternal rivalry between two brothers. Henry and James Durie take opposite sides during the Jacobite uprising of 1745 as a strategy devised by their father to ensure the survival of the Durie estate (encompassing the lands of both Durrisdeer and Ballantrae) regardless of the outcome of the war. Instead of securing the future of the family, however, this decision leads to bitterness. Believing that his brother, James, had died along with the hopes of the Stuarts at the Battle of Culloden, Henry Durie acquires his brother’s property. However, things are not so simple; throughout the next four years there was a shadow on that house, the shadow of the Master of Ballantrae. As so many great books do, The Master of Ballantrae has a charismatic villain: the older brother, James Durie, known as the Master of Ballantrae, returns to claim his birthright. Competing for the same estate and wife, the brothers’ struggle is reminiscent of the Biblical tale of Jacob and Esau—at least that is how James sees it. Although Stevenson is most popular for his children’s adventure tale Treasure Island and his Gothic novella The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, The Master of Ballantrae is in fact a more substantial work in its depth of moral and psychological exploration. It is also exciting to read: With its blend of Indian mysticism, Scottish folklore, sea pirates, New York mercenaries, and tragic romance, Stevenson has produced a dazzling—but tragic—adventure that spans the Atlantic and Indian Oceans.

For Robert Louis Stevenson, the art of storytelling was part of the fabric of his soul. He was born November 13, 1850, in Edinburgh, Scotland, the only child of a lighthouse engineer. Known as Louis, he grew up listening to the stories told by his beloved nurse, Cummy, and her storytelling—including the Old Testament, folk tales, and The Pilgrim’s Progress—helped to inspire the young lad’s imagination. Stevenson disappointed his father not only by refusing to carry on the family tradition of being a lighthouse engineer but also by breaking from his religion: He announced to his Calvinist father that he was agnostic, which was as good as declaring himself a godless atheist to the shocked patriarch. Nor was Stevenson to remain in Scotland for long. Louis stayed long enough to complete his degree in law at Edinburgh; however, much of his attention was given to reading the history of Scotland, French literature—especially Alexander Dumas (author of The Three Musketeers)—and Charles Darwin. Louis disappointed his father once again when he abandoned the practice of law, declaring himself a writer: It was Louis’s final gesture against the Edinburgh world of security in which he had been reared and into which he had steadfastly refused to fit. Soon he was back in France amongst the art students and their mistressed, carefree company that he relished.¹ Although he did not make a decisive emigration until after his father’s death in 1887, Stevenson did leave for France, based on medical directions to mitigate his tubercular condition. There, at the age of twenty-six, he became romantically involved with Fanny Osbourne—his senior by a decade and a married woman whom had left her husband in the United States. Fanny divorced her husband and married Stevenson in 1888, and Stevenson gained two stepchildren, Lloyd and Isobel.

Lloyd Osbourne offers a vivid description of the environment in which Stevenson was completing The Master of Ballantrae—a tale that Stevenson began in New York, finished in Samoa, and worked furiously on in Hawaii, where the king himself would come to visit him:

It was typical of Stevenson that instead of choosing the best room in the house for his own he should seek out a dilapidated, cobwebby little shack, thirty or forty yards away, and papered with mildewed newspapers, in which to install himself. Here in complete contentment, with his cot, flageolet, and ink-bottle, he set himself to the task of finishing the Master of Ballantrae—while centipedes wriggled unnoticed on his floor, lizards darted after flies, and the undisturbed spiders peacefully continued the weaving of their webs.²

Stevenson’s friendship with the King of Hawaii was typical of the bonds that he established with the Polynesians, who called him Tusitala (storyteller). His actions to help the islanders won the gratitude of many: When he died, the Samoans built what they called The Road of the Loving Heart to his grave on top of a mountain.³

Stevenson’s willingness to humble himself for a purpose in a little shack brings to mind the Master’s devotion to vengeance—he too will endure much for a goal. Indeed, Stevenson’s heroic qualities are ironically to be found in his villain. Arguably what makes James Durie in The Master of Ballantrae so fascinating is that in another context he might have been a hero—or at least a Romantic antihero—because of his courage and sheer force of will:

[T]he Master is all I know of the devil; I have known hints of him, in the world, but always cowards; he is as bold as a lion, but with the same deadly, causeless duplicity I have watched with so much surprise in my two cowards. ’Tis true I saw a hint of the same nature in another man who was not a coward; but he had other things to attend to; the Master has nothing else but his devilry." ⁴

Stevenson’s words may seem to remind us of the old adage idle hands are the devil’s workshop, but James Durie, the Master, is hardly idle. Nor was Stevenson. He worked furiously on The Master of Ballantrae, and it was hard work that distinguished him: I am not a man of any unusual talent, Lloyd; I started out with very moderate abilities; my success has been due to my really remarkable industry.⁵ One example of Stevenson’s intense productivity was that he rewrote The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde in only six days—and this despite the fact that he was suffering from tuberculosis, the disease that ultimately killed him. Sadly, young Louis was unhealthy even as a toddler: destined to be a man of many nicknames, his parents called him Smouth, which is the Scottish term for small fry.⁶ Stevenson’s stepson, Lloyd, was convinced that it was his industry that enabled him to resist his mortal illness for as long as he did.

Rather than printed fiction, the Master is dedicated to another sort of storytelling. James Durie spins Machiavellian plots, and because of his charisma and endurance, by the end of the novel readers might well feel they are of this Devil’s party—he even takes up industrious crafts after his deceptive crafts have stalled, showing himself to be a resilient underdog. Stevenson was known for his kindness, so upon first reflection it seems puzzling that he would have looked into himself for the subject matter of his diabolic antagonist, James Durie, in The Master of Ballantrae: for the Master I had no original, which is perhaps another way of confessing that the original was no other than myself.⁷ Indeed, sometimes this modeling was quite literal: In her journal, his step-daughter, Isobel, described how her mother witnessed Stevenson searching in the mirror for the Master of Ballantrae:

When Louis was writing Ballantrae my mother said he once came into her room to look in the glass, as he wished to describe a certain haughty, disagreeable expression of his hero’s. He told her he actually expected to see the master’s clean-shaven face and powdered head, and was quite disconcerted at beholding only his own reflection." ⁸

Despite his pleasant personality, Stevenson was rebellious in spirit, and in his conflicts with his father over work and religion, one can detect the seeds of passion that would lead to an understanding of a temperament characterized by defiance, like that of the Master.

Notably, it is primarily family tensions and the spirit of defiance that drive the plot of The Master of Ballantrae. However, it is determination channeled through duplicity that truly captures the essence of the novel. James Durie’s deceitfulness is a continuation of the two-faced behavior of the Durie family. Furthermore, the subterfuge employed by Lord Durrisdeer to prepare for the outcome of the 1745 uprising exemplifies the divided nature of Scotland as a whole since the death of James VI in 1625. The word Jacobite itself derives from Jacobus Rex, the Latin for King James; James VI of Scotland’s hereditary claim to the English throne united Scotland with both England and Ireland in 1603. After his death, tensions among disputing claims to the crown led to the English Civil War. Support for the Jacobite cause was always characterized by both uncertainty and passion; not all Scottish clans were united in their support of the Stuarts. Shifting alliances, lack of clear communication, and internal competition further weakened the Jacobite uprisings, none of which achieved decisive military success. The far-reaching consequences of the English Civil War included the beheading of Charles I (the second son of King James), the restoration of the Stuart monarchy in 1660, and the ascension of the House of Hanover, which maintained power from George I’s ascension to the throne in 1714 through the reign of Queen Victoria, who died in 1901. To restore the House of Stuart, the Jacobites revolted in 1689, 1708, 1715, 1719—and finally in 1745. Scotland’s humiliating defeat on the battlefield of Culloden paralleled the embarrassing device that enabled Prince Charles Stuart (Bonnie Prince Charlie) to escape. Flora MacDonald gave the defeated prince her clothes: dressed as a woman, the last hope of the Jacobites fled to France and Italy, where he ended his days in drunken dissipation.

The reader never directly encounters Prince Charlie Stuart in The Master of Ballantrae, but we know James Durie does, becoming one of the prince’s close associates; when the novel begins, we know only that Prince Charlie has landed in Scotland—returning from years of exile in France to reclaim the throne. The pairing of James Durie and Prince Charlie invites analysis: Both men become obsessed with regaining what they believe is their lost heritage. Both are perceived as noble and debauched—depending upon the politics and personality of their audience. There is no denying with either, however, that they are not mere people but charismatic figures.

Prince Charlie is not the only major personage that James Durie is associated with. In one of his notes on the text, Stevenson outlines some historical analogues for the Durrisdeer family; he refers to William, Marquis of Tullibardine, the elder son of the Duke of Atholl, John Murray, a strong supporter of Scottish independence in the first Jacobite revolts of 1715 and 1719 against the rule of George I. While the Marquis joined in alliance with Bonnie Prince Charlie against George II in 1745, the second son, James, supported George II. Interestingly, while returning to Scotland from France, the Marquis and Prince Charlie encounter a British warship in an incident that is reminiscent of the close call between the pirate ship and the battleship in The Master of Ballantrae.⁹ As one of a select group of intimate supporters who were very influential over Prince Charlie’s decisions, James Durie’s implicit linkage with the Marquis underscores his persuasive abilities in Stevenson’s novel. In fact, it is hinted that Durie urged Prince Charlie to recklessness. Although the Marquis seems to have been a loyal supporter of Charlie, James Durie’s egoism is antithetical to fidelity. He betrays his various companions to his ambitions whenever opportunity presents him with clear gain.

The theme of duplicity permeates the novel, and it is a concept that Stevenson explores throughout his works. The roots of this preoccupation may be partly traced to Stevenson’s own psyche: Although Stevenson had no brother to compete with, perhaps the Master and his brother, Henry Durie, represent exaggerated personae of the author himself—at once the dutiful and the prodigal son. Yet Stevenson was a helper of people; James Durie, the Master, is a manipulator of men and women. Everyone is familiar with Stevenson’s The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. Stevenson may have been haunted by a sense of being two people—one the passionate wanderer, the other oppressed by the conventional expectations of others: He heaps the petty virtues of his public personality on the inactive, sickly, and child-like Henry Durie. And he projects the ‘high-flying vices’ of an unrealized self into the indomitable, virile, and satanic Master.¹⁰ Or, as biographer Frank McLynn says, it is tempting to see the guilt-ridden, Calvinistic, duty-driven Henry as a portrait of the new ‘bourgeois’ RLS aiming at commercial success, with James, the ‘Master,’ the custodian of the life-enhancing Jacobite values of the pre-Fanny RLS.¹¹ Another biographical theory is that the novel reflects the painful division between Stevenson and Robert Alan Mowbray Stevenson, his cousin and childhood companion.

Viewing the two brothers, Henry and James, in dualistic terms is both productive and misleading. Certainly the most obvious characteristics of the brothers seem to vividly contrast, at least in the early stages of the novel—James’s aggression and Henry’s principled restraint—but one must guard against a simplistic judgment about the struggle between the brothers. This narrative is not a mere imitation of Abel and Cain, for each brother has murderous intentions. Rather than locating evil within the Master himself, Stevenson reveals the temptation of circumstances and passions that plague all of humanity. The Master is a character who indulges his desires; his attraction as a literary villain is partly because he expresses feelings that secretly course through the veins of more conventionally good people. James Durie’s chief function as an antagonist is to reveal the pretensions of others, and he does so very effectively. The main narrator, Ephraim Mackellar, the Steward of the Durrisdeers himself, is tempted to violence by his proximity to this man whom he both admires and hates. The subjectivity of the text is treacherous; ultimately what we have is hearsay from the competing accounts of supposed eye-witnesses to the conflicts of the Durrisdeer family—who is telling the truth is possibly unanswerable. It is this quality of the novel that makes its plot and characters particularly rich for a modern audience that has learned that the world does not always neatly split into opposing spheres of good and evil. Personal and political agendas hold sway over all. Is it simply courage or cowardice that separates felon from hypocrite?

The courage of the Master was not alien to Stevenson, who was a man who thrilled to take chances; he asserted that life itself ultimately was his greatest passion, not fiction:

The strongest single impression one derives from a study of his life is one of courage. No man is any use until he has dared everything, he wrote while traveling in the emigrant train, and to another correspondent he confided that he was a person who prefers life to art, and who knows 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. ¹²

Just as the Master takes decisive measures that alienate the trust of his family, Stevenson took daring steps that led to open confrontation with the expectations and wishes of his family and defied conventions at home and abroad. In terms of charisma, Robert Louis Stevenson might have given his own swashbuckling characters a run for their money. Stevenson has enthralled readers through both his stories and his life. Biographies of his adventurous life and new editions of his works have appeared with great frequency (there are generally several biographies every decade and sometimes several in a single year), celebrating his works, friendships, and travels. While Stevenson was emerging as an international writer, he was an enthusiastic traveler in search of a climate that would be gentle to his tubercular condition; his peregrinations and popular writings led to his meeting a host of admirers from a variety of nations, such as the United States, France, Hawaii, and Samoa—his final resting place. As a storyteller, Stevenson remains an author for readers of all ages, and for many people The Master of Ballantrae proves indeed to be what Henry James called a pure hard crystal.¹³

The Master of Ballantrae received superlative praise from contemporary reviewers, although there were a few who protested against the gloominess of the novel. Almost all highlighted the appeal of the villain and plot and emphasized Stevenson’s engaging style—avoiding cliché while efficiently offering vivid details and directness without a studied attempt at brevity for its own sake. Stevenson has been praised as first of all a stylist even though he is predominantly known for his exciting plots.¹⁴ The exoticism of Stevenson’s island study aroused further interest among his reading public, as Andrew Lang (still well known today for his series of fairy-tale books) underscores in his review of October 5, 1889, in the Daily News:

By a great many people a new story of Mr. LOUIS STEVENSON’S is expected with more interest than any other novelty in literature. . . . Readers have a personal concern moreover in his development, and in his wanderings of which he keeps them advised. Not often does a romance wing its way to us from Waikiki, from the loud shores of a subtropical island. . . . Now Mr. Stevenson has returned to Scotland, just after the Forty-Five, but his tale wanders from land like its author.¹⁵

Stevenson’s published works have successfully wandered from various lands to be reprinted and reread by diverse people. However, it is his travels through time that have proven most remarkable. The Master of Ballantrae is a novel that continues to reveal greater depth as literary criticism evolves, and the world around us continues to offer more windows of perception. Readers of this novel find a complexity of perspective that continues to challenge interpretations. The shifting of sympathies that this book produces by its heroic villain and its villainous hero pulls the reader into a realm of exploration where normal prejudices weaken within a whirlpool of ambiguity. From the moors of Scotland to the mountains and swamps of America, this novel displays a landscape of the psyche where the greatest adventure is that one comes to discover oneself in the tangled exploits of these two brothers—forever both childhood companions and dire enemies at each other’s throats. Where good and evil lie in this twisted tale of virtue and vengeance is a Sphinx-like riddle that sits nestled deeply in our own traitorous hearts. The novel complicates the adventure genre by defying the stereotypes of heroes and villains that readers have grown to accept. By bursting open these bonds, The Master of Ballantrae offers a fresh look at a genre that Stevenson helped to popularize; this tragic adventure revitalizes that genre for a skeptical world that looks inward for the answers that might explain the great adventure beyond the mortal one.

Jason Marc Harris holds a Ph.D. in English Literature from the University of Washington and teaches at Michigan State University. He is the author of Nineteenth-Century British Supernatural Fiction.

CONTENTS

NOTE ON THE TEXT

PREFACE

TO SIR PERCY FLORENCE AND LADY SHELLEY

SUMMARY OF EVENTS DURING THE MASTER’S WANDERINGS

THE MASTER’S WANDERINGS

PERSECUTIONS ENDURED BY MR. HENRY

ACCOUNT OF ALL THAT PASSED ON THE NIGHT OF FEBRUARY 27TH, 1757

SUMMARY OF EVENTS DURING THE MASTER’S SECOND ABSENCE

ADVENTURE OF CHEVALIER BURKE IN INDIA

THE ENEMY IN THE HOUSE

MR. MACKELLAR’S JOURNEY WITH THE MASTER

PASSAGES AT NEW YORK

THE JOURNEY IN THE WILDERNESS

NARRATIVE OF THE TRADER, MOUNTAIN

APPENDIX STEVENSON’S ‘NOTE TO THE MASTER OF BALLANTRAE’ (1893-4)

ENDNOTES

SUGGESTED READING

NOTE ON THE TEXT

IN A LETTER TO HIS FRIEND CHARLES BAXTER, ON JANUARY 1, 1894, Robert Louis Stevenson mentioned drafting a preface to The Master of Ballantrae.¹ Charles Baxter and Sidney Colvin (friend and main editor) disapproved of Stevenson’s plans for explanatory prefaces. Thus, it was only posthumously published as The Genesis of the Master of Ballantrae when it appeared in 1896 in Volume 21 of the Edinburgh edition, which is what this Barnes & Noble text uses (247-253). A revision was discovered amid Stevenson’s manuscripts and included in Elsie Noble Caldwell’s Last Witness for Robert Louis Stevenson, published in 1960. Two public domain sections of Stevenson’s Note to ‘The Master of Ballantrae’ (his title for the Genesis) are included for the curious reader who wishes to examine this account of how a story arose in the writer’s mind.

Stevenson also wrote a fictional preface: He takes on the role of an editor and Charles Baxter appears as Mr. Johnstone Thomson, who presents Stevenson with the lost papers of the Durrisdeers allegedly kept by the very fictional Ephraim Mackellar, the steward of the family whose narratives form the majority of the text. Stevenson cooled on the idea as being too contrived, but the preface saw print in the 1898 Edinburgh edition. The Edinburgh edition is recognized as the authoritative edition of The Master of Ballantrae, which incorporated Stevenson’s last revisions to the text.

PREFACE

ALTHOUGH AN OLD, CONSISTENT EXILE, THE EDITOR OF THE following pages revisits now and again the city of which he exults to be a native; and there are few things more strange, more painful, or more salutary, than such revisitations. Outside, in foreign spots, he comes by surprise and awakens more attention than he had expected; in his own city, the relation is reversed, and he stands amazed to be so little recollected. Elsewhere he is refreshed to see attractive faces, to remark possible friends; there he scouts the long streets, with a pang at heart, for the faces and friends that are no more. Elsewhere he is delighted with the presence of what is new, there tormented by the absence of what is old. Elsewhere he is content to be his present self; there he is smitten with an equal regret for what he once was and for what he once hoped to be.

He was feeling all this dimly, as he drove from the station, on his last visit; he was feeling it still as he alighted at the door of his friend Mr. Johnstone Thomson, W.S., with whom he was to stay. A hearty welcome, a face not altogether changed, a few words that sounded of old days, a laugh provoked and shared, a glimpse in passing of the snowy cloth and bright decanters and the Piranesis on the dining-room wall, brought him to his bedroom with a somewhat lightened cheer, and when he and Mr. Thomson sat down a few minutes later, cheek by jowl, and pledged the past in a preliminary bumper, he was already almost consoled, he had already almost forgiven himself his two unpardonable errors, that he should ever have left his native city, or ever returned to it.

‘I have something quite in your way,’ said Mr. Thomson. ‘I wished to do honour to your arrival; because, my dear fellow, it is my own youth that comes back along with you; in a very tattered and withered state, to be sure, but—well!—all that’s left of it.’

‘A great deal better than nothing,’ said the editor. ‘But what is this which is quite in my way?’

‘I was coming to that,’ said Mr. Thomson: ‘Fate has put it in my power to honour your arrival with something really original by way of dessert. A mystery.’

‘A mystery?’ I repeated.

‘Yes,’ said his friend, ‘a mystery. It may prove to be nothing, and it may prove to be a great deal. But in the meanwhile it is truly mysterious, no eye having looked on it for near a hundred years; it is highly genteel, for it treats of a titled family; and it ought to be melodramatic, for (according to the superscription) it is concerned with death.’

‘I think I rarely heard a more obscure or a more promising annunciation,’ the other remarked. ‘But what is it?’

‘You remember my predecessor’s, old Peter M’Brair’s business?’

‘I remember him acutely; he could not look at me without a pang of reprobation, and he could not feel the pang without betraying it. He was to me a man of a great historical interest, but the interest was not returned.’

‘Ah well, we go beyond him,’ said Mr. Thomson. ‘I daresay old Peter knew as little about this as I do. You see, I succeeded to a prodigious accumulation of old law-papers and old tin boxes, some of them of Peter’s hoarding, some of his father’s, John, first of the dynasty, a great man in his day. Among other collections, were all the papers of the Durrisdeers.’

‘The Durrisdeers!’ cried I. ‘My dear fellow, these may be of the greatest interest. One of them was out in the ’45; one had some strange passages with the devil—you will find a note of it in Law’s Memorials, I think; and there was an unexplained tragedy, I know not what, much later, about a hundred years ago—’

‘More than a hundred years ago,’ said Mr. Thomson. ‘In 1783.’

‘How do you know that? I mean some death.’

‘Yes, the lamentable deaths of my lord Durrisdeer and his brother, the Master of Ballantrae (attainted in the troubles),’ said Mr. Thomson with something the tone of a man quoting. ‘Is that it?’

‘To say truth,’ said I, ‘I have only seen some dim reference to the things in memoirs; and heard some traditions dimmer still, through my uncle (whom I think you knew). My uncle lived when he was a boy in the neighbourhood of St Bride’s; he has often told me of the avenue closed up and grown over with grass, the great gates never opened, the last lord and his old maid sister who lived in the back parts of the house, a quiet, plain, poor, hum-drum couple it would seem—but pathetic too, as the last of that stirring and brave house—and, to the country folk, faintly terrible from some deformed traditions.’

‘Yes,’ said Mr. Thomson. ‘Henry Graeme Durie, the last lord, died in 1820; his sister, the Honourable Miss Katharine Durie, in ’27; so much I know; and by what I have been going over the last few days, they were what you say, decent, quiet people, and not rich. To say truth, it was a letter of my lord’s that put me on the search for the packet we are going to open this evening. Some papers could not be found; and he wrote to Jack M’Brair suggesting they might be among those sealed up by a Mr. Mackellar. M’Brair answered, that the papers in question were all in Mackellar’s own hand, all (as the writer understood) of a purely narrative character; and besides, said he, I am not bound to open them before the year 1889. You may fancy if these words struck me: I instituted a hunt through all the M’Brair repositories; and at last hit upon that packet which (if you have had enough wine) I propose to show you at once.’

In the smoking-room, to which my host now led me,