There, I did it!!
I’ve been struggling to finish Robert Louis Stevenson a Biography, by Claire Harman, for several months. It’s an excellent read.
I greatly enjoyed the book, gathering insights into the famous author who deserted my favorite big city (that’s saying something since I’m really an old country boy at heart) for the warmth of the South Pacific and the then primitive island of Samoa. What would possess anyone to do that?
Edinburgh might be rainy and cold, it might be windy, it might be crowded, it might be hilly, it was certainly smoky in Robert Louis’s day, but its historic personality oozes from the old wood, old stone walls and ancient pavers that combine to make it a timeless city.
Claire, the biography’s author, invited me to join the roving group of “friends” and family who followed Stevenson around the world seeking a cure for his physical condition and some peace in which to write. Some of them were probably seeking fame by association, while others genuinely cared about him. It was enlightening to sit back and observe, “The fly on the wall” if you will.
The travels, as you might guess, began in Edinburgh. But then became interesting. Destinations included London and other English locations, Davos, Paris, upstate New York, San Francisco, the Hawaiian Islands and countless other places.
I had been aware of Robert Louis Stevenson but had not, unlike much of the rest of the world it seems, read any of his works. I knew he was a writer and I fancy myself a bit of a writer, so we have that in common. By chance, or might we say by the “The hand of Providence,” I met some of his characters before I met him.
Some members of my family and I spent part of a summer in a more rugged part of Stevenson’s world, the west of Scotland, not far from Oban. This was in 2015 if I recall correctly.
As I wandered through a wee shop with a book section, (my favorite kind), a book entitled, The Killing Of The Red Fox: An Investigation into the Appin Murder caught my eye. It was by Seamus Carney.
The killing was a very old but true story, and had happened not far from where I was standing, I was instantly intrigued. The cover was very attractive and on the back, the book jacket read:
“It is around five-thirty in the afternoon on the 14th of May 1752. Four men slowly make their way through Lettermore wood on a remote hillside in Appin, Argyll. In a few moments, one of them – Colin Campbell of Glenure, the Red Fox – lies bleeding to death in the heart of Stewart country. A manhunt ensues and his murder becomes the biggest scandal of its time. But why? How could such a solitary criminal act become so notorious and later inspire Robert Louis Stevenson to write Kidnapped and Catriona? Who killed Glenure and why did his murder plunge clan society in Western Scotland into one of its darkest periods? Vengeance, clan hatred, conspiracy . . . which one?
THE KILLING OF THE RED FOX is the most intensive study yet into this incident which continues to perplex generation after generation who long to know only one thing . . . who really did kill the Red Fox?”
I was all in! How could one not purchase this book and start reading it right on the spot!? I did! The Killing Of The Red Fox became my formal introduction to Robert Louis Stevenson.
I have lived in and traveled through much of Scotland over the years and I’m also a reader. Scotland’s history, much like its scenery, seems to keep regenerating itself. I knew of a family of engineers named Stevenson who had built the lighthouses around Scotland, (see The Lighthouse Stevensons by Bella Bathhurst) but I wasn’t aware Robert Louis was one of them
When we are back in “the old country” we often find ourselves in Fife’s East Neuk. The village of Anstruther is a favorite stop. Maybe it’s the picturesque harbor, maybe it’s the tasty fish and chips, maybe it’s the delicious ice cream. Maybe it’s all of the above. I do miss the wee bookstore up on Rodger Street that was always a favorite stop. I am somewhat familiar with the wee village.
It was interesting to discover that Robert Louis, as a young engineer with the family firm, actually worked on the picturesque harbor in Anstruther. I’m certain he could not have possibly imagined the countless pleasure sailboats and motorboats crowding the picturesque wee harbor these days, rocking in the gentle swell of the North Sea that has quietly crept past the harbor walls.
He more than likely walked some of the very same streets I have walked. He might have enjoyed fish and chips at the Anstruther Fish Bar as well! But doing the math, not likely. Being a retired volunteer firefighter, I always make a stop at the RNLI Lifeboat shed to see the Lifeboat and make a purchase. The RNLI, (Royal National Lifeboat Institute) like the Hooker Volunteer Fire Department, is a volunteer organization.
Another help to understanding Robert Louis came from Stevenson’s Scotland edited by Tom Hubbard and Duncan Glen. This excellent collection of essays uses Robert Louis’s own words to describe many of his favorite places in his native land. Many of them are also favorites of mine. Among his many recollections, Robert Louis describes some interesting and even frightening happenings in the aforementioned village of Anstruther.
And then I discovered Robert Louis borrowed some of the events of the Appin Murder for his book Kidnapped. So now I’m committed to reading a RLS book. Kidnapped on Kindle was my very next step, and now on to Catriona. I’m reading biographies and learning of the complex character who used his pen to commit so many interesting places and happenings to paper.
It’s interesting that Robert chose the phrase “The Hand of Providence,” to describe the plight of his character who is struggling to claim his rightful inheritance. Robert, who uses words the way a painter chooses a color or a brush, surely chose those words very carefully. Was he, when writing from his new island home in Samoa, in his own mind, longing and somehow searching for his inheritance, his place in life…Edinburgh?
I’ve been for several years working on something I’ve loosely called a book. But maybe it’s a memoir. I don’t really know. I even have a “working title.” I call it, Some Called It Coincidence. It’s my story of Providentially finding myself in Scotland many years after my Dad had been there during WW2.
The last words Stevenson gives to David Balfour in Kidnapped, as he seeks to claim his rightful inheritance which is in safekeeping in the bank, say more than the author may have even realized. Robert Louis has David Balfour say, “The hand of Providence brought me in my drifting to the very doors of the British Linen Company’s bank.” The very bank in which his inheritance is held.
An amazing coincidence or as David says Providence? And what to think about Providence in our lives. What did Robert Louis think of Providence in his own?
A niece recently suggested another very intriguing title, which I’m considering. Her suggestion is, Was Grandpa Really A Pirate? Her interesting suggestion comes from one of our grandchildren asking their Grandmother, ” Was Grandpa Really A Pirate?” It harkens I’m sure to some of the stories I’ve told over the years.
Somehow, Providentially I’d suggest, I found myself in Scotland. But with no inheritance in any bank, I’m aware of.
Robert surely recognized “The hand of Providence.” The young boy whose family were committed members of The Free Church of Scotland and who as a child acted out the role of a preacher, could not help but be influenced by the Biblical teaching of the Free Church in his family. Influences scoffed at by many then and now. Possibly he understood Divine Providence even more than he wanted to admit.
Not only is David Balfour at the door of the British Linen Bank in Edinburgh hoping to claim his inheritance, is it possible Robert Louis himself, writing from tropical Samoa, far removed from the windy, cold stone city of his youth, is still struggling to find his own. I think that is something the author himself is doing, struggling to claim his inheritance, his old city, his old family, his rightful place.
It is interesting that he wrote so much about Scotland from his estate in Samoa. This tells me Scotland was etched in his soul. I coined a phrase some years ago, “Spend a week in Scotland and you can never completely go home.” That happened to me. I have two daughters born in the old country, one currently works as a doctor in a major Scottish hospital. I have grandkids attending Scottish universities. I have a granddaughter born in Scotland.
Robert Louis, when the chips were down as they say, could never completely be anywhere but Edinburgh in his beloved Scotland,
I have to think, deep down in his soul, he always thought he would return.
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