Chapter & Verse - Robert Louis Stevenson

By Robert Louis Stevenson

Literature is a world of words and wonder, able to take us on almost unimaginable journeys from the wild and fantastic to the grind and minutiae of life.

An author’s ideas are his building blocks, his architecture of the mind, building a structure on which all else will rest; the narrative, the characters, the words - those few words that begin the adventure.

In this series we look at some of our leading classic authors across two genres: the short story and the poem. In this modern world there is an insatiable need to categorise and pigeon-hole everyone and everything. But ideas, these grains and saplings of the brain, need to roam, to explore and find their perfect literary use vehicle. Our authors are masters of many literary forms, perhaps known for one but themselves favouring another.

Story. Poems. Story. Within these boundaries come all manner of invention and cast of characters. And, of course, each author has their own way of revealing their own chapter and verse.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Chapter & Verse
• Release date: Feb 1, 2024
• ISBN: 9781835474068

Robert Louis Stevenson

Robert Louis Stevenson (1850-1894) was a Scottish poet, novelist, and travel writer. Born the son of a lighthouse engineer, Stevenson suffered from a lifelong lung ailment that forced him to travel constantly in search of warmer climates. Rather than follow his father’s footsteps, Stevenson pursued a love of literature and adventure that would inspire such works as Treasure Island (1883), Kidnapped (1886), Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde (1886), and Travels with a Donkey in the Cévennes (1879).

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Chapter & Verse - Robert Louis Stevenson

Literature is a world of words and wonder, able to take us on almost unimaginable journeys from the wild and fantastic to the grind and minutiae of life.

An author’s ideas are his building blocks, his architecture of the mind, building a structure on which all else will rest; the narrative, the characters, the words - those few words that begin the adventure.

In this series we look at some of our leading classic authors across two genres: the short story and the poem.  In this modern world there is an insatiable need to categorise and pigeon-hole everyone and everything.  But ideas, these grains and saplings of the brain, need to roam, to explore and find their perfect literary use vehicle.  Our authors are masters of many literary forms, perhaps known for one but themselves favouring another.

Story. Poems. Story.  Within these boundaries come all manner of invention and cast of characters.  And, of course, each author has their own way of revealing their own chapter and verse.  

Robert Louis Stevenson – An Introduction

Occasionally an author appears who, in a short career, emblazons a legacy so bright and so distinct, as well as popular that it is difficult to believe it is the output of only one man. Robert Louis Balfour Stevenson was such a talent.

Stevenson was born on 13th November 1850 in Edinburgh.  Despite a late start to reading and writing he was a voracious story-teller, regularly performing yarns for all those around him.  His health though was poorly, he suffered lifelong bronchial problems and was incapacitated by this and other ailments throughout his life.

In Grez, France in September 1876 he met the American, Fanny Van de Grift Osbourne. She was married with children but distress and anger at her husband's infidelities led to several separations. By the time she met Stevenson she was already a promising short-story writer.

In 1880 she was at last free to re marry and life, despite his health issues, was good.  In the ensuing years travel and exploration would be their calling and the source of his literary inspiration.

Classics flowed; in 1881 ‘The Body Snatcher’.  In 1883 ‘Treasure Island’, followed 3 years later by ‘Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde’.

In 1890, they settled on an estate in Samoa for what would be a last great burst of writing that coincided with his political awakening as the islands moved toward inter-clan warfare as greedy outside powers stoked tensions.  

Over the course of his prolific career Stevenson had not only given his audience many classic novels but beautiful poetry such as ‘A Child’s Garden of Verses’ and many short stories as with his dark classic of Christmas Day ‘Markheim’ (1884).

Robert Louis Stevenson died at his island home at Valima in Samoa on 3rd December 1894.  He was 44.

Index of Contents

The Body Snatcher

Death to the Dead For Evermore

The Land of Nod

A Song of the Road

The Vagabond

Travel

The Canoe Speaks

Men Are Heaven's Piers

I Do Not Fear to Own Me Kin

To

Windy Nights

I Sit Up Here at Midnight

Youth and Love

A Valentines Song

Markheim

The Body Snatcher

Every night in the year, four of us sat in the small parlour of the George at Debenham—the undertaker, and the landlord, and Fettes, and myself. Sometimes there would be more; but blow high, blow low, come rain or snow or frost, we four would be each planted in his own particular arm-chair. Fettes was an old drunken Scotchman, a man of education obviously, and a man of some property, since he lived in idleness. He had come to Debenham years ago, while still young, and by a mere continuance of living had grown to be an adopted townsman. His blue camlet cloak was a local antiquity, like the church-spire. His place in the parlour at the George, his absence from church, his old, crapulous, disreputable vices, were all things of course in Debenham. He had some vague Radical opinions and some fleeting infidelities, which he would now and again set forth and emphasise with tottering slaps upon the table. He drank rum—five glasses regularly every evening; and for the greater portion of his nightly visit to the George sat, with his glass in his right hand, in a state of melancholy alcoholic saturation. We called him the Doctor, for he was supposed to have some special knowledge of medicine, and had been known, upon a pinch, to set a fracture or reduce a dislocation; but beyond these slight particulars, we had no knowledge of his character and antecedents.

One dark winter night—it had struck nine some time before the landlord joined us—there was a sick man in the George, a great neighbouring proprietor suddenly struck down with apoplexy on his way to Parliament; and the great man's still greater London doctor had been telegraphed to his bedside. It was the first time that such a thing had happened in Debenham, for the railway was but newly open, and we were all proportionately moved by the occurrence.

'He's come,' said the landlord, after he had filled and lighted