The logical next story for this thread is "The Bottle Imp" or The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, but I wonder if there'd be interest in the black comedy (no supernatural elements) co-written by RLS & called The Wrong Box?

Someone at Goodreads wrote, "A black comic novel about the last remaining survivors of a tontine - a group life-insurance policy in which the last surviving member stands to receive a fortune. It is a farcical, eccentric and brilliantly written piece of work."

As I recall from a reading many years ago, there was a surprising among of (by today's standards, not mine) mild profanity, which shouldn't have been indulged in. I know that such usage can heighten comic effect, but it should be avoided. Aside from that defect, as I recall I rather enjoyed what one critic -- as I recall -- called a "dreary piece of fooling."

"The Bottle Imp," then, may round out for now the activity on this thread, after the essay I suggest below. I expect to read "Imp" and to post comments here soon, and hope others will too.

With The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, not yet discussed, will we then have noted all of Stevenson's weird fiction in this thread? Does anyone know of any story* that belongs here but has been overlooked so far?

By the way, I expect shortly to finish a reading of Nicholas Rankin's Dead Man's Chest: Travels After Robert Louis Stevenson, a combination of biography of RLS and 1980s travelogue. The author occasionally does a little axe-grinding, but I've liked the book a lot. (For an example of the axe-grinding: he leans on Protestants who thought that leprosy, a feature of Hawaiian life since it was, evidently, brought from China, was caused by sexual misbehavior. Of course they were wrong; Hansen's disease, as it has come to be called, is not a venereal disease. We understand that, but they didn't know what we know.) Rankin is always interesting both about RLS and his own travels. I might look for a second-hand copy of this book.

*There is a rather Lovecraftian-sounding essay, "Pulvis et Umbra" ((Dust and Shadow), that ED folk might like to read. The text is here:

[www.bartleby.com]

That, I think, is what I'll read and comment on shortly -- then "The Bottle Imp."



Edited 2 time(s). Last edit at 10 Sep 21 | 11:23AM by Dale Nelson.

This archive.org scan seems to include a prefatory paragraph for "Pulvis et Umbra" that is missing from the source mentioned in my previous message.

[archive.org]

The essay proper begins thus:

-----OF the Kosmos in the last resort, science reports many doubtful things, and all of the appalling. There seems no substance to this solid globe on which we stamp; nothing but symbols and ratios. Symbols and ratios carry us and bring us forth and beat us down; gravity that swings the incommensurable suns and worlds, through space is but a figment varying inversely as the squares of distances; and the suns and worlds themselves, imponderable figures of abstraction, NH3 and H2O. Consideration dares not dwell upon this view; that way madness lies; science carries us into zones of speculation, where there is no habitable city for the mind of man.-----

Cf. the first graf of "The Call of Cthulhu" -- agreed?

RLS continues:

-----We behold space sown with rotatory islands, suns and worlds and the shards and wrecks of systems: some, like the sun, still blazing; some rotting, like the earth; others, like the moon, stable in desolation. All of these we take to be made of something we call matter: a thing which no analysis can help us to conceive; to whose incredible properties no familiarity can reconcile our minds. This stuff, when not purified by the lustration of fire, rots uncleanly into something we call life; seized through all its atoms with a pediculous malady; swelling into tumours that become independent, sometimes even (by an abhorrent prodigy) locomotory; one splitting into millions, millions cohering into one, as the malady proceeds through varying stages. This vital putrescence of the dust, used as we are to it, yet strikes us with occasional disgust, and the profusion of worms in a piece of ancient turf, or the air of a marsh darkened with insects, will sometimes check our breathing so that we aspire for cleaner places. But none is clean: the moving sand is infected with lice; the pure spring, where it bursts out of the mountain, is a mere issue of worms; even in the hard rock the crystal is forming.----

If someone had presented this passage to me and asked me the well-known name of the author, I don't suppose I'd have guessed it. Rankin described this as "cosmic horror" Dead Man's Chest, p. 234). I've read it for the first time while writing this message.

The essay develops and concludes in an un-Lovecraftian direction; not for RLS is HPL's usually comfortable cosmic futility.



Edited 5 time(s). Last edit at 10 Sep 21 | 02:05PM by Dale Nelson.

Dale Nelson Wrote:
-------------------------------------------------------
> This archive.org scan seems to include a prefatory
> paragraph for "Pulvis et Umbra" that is missing
> from the source mentioned in my previous message.
>
> [archive.org]
> rich/page/192/mode/2up
>
> The essay proper begins thus:
>
> -----OF the Kosmos in the last resort, science
> reports many doubtful things, and all of the
> appalling. There seems no substance to this solid
> globe on which we stamp; nothing but symbols and
> ratios. Symbols and ratios carry us and bring us
> forth and beat us down; gravity that swings the
> incommensurable suns and worlds, through space is
> but a figment varying inversely as the squares of
> distances; and the suns and worlds themselves,
> imponderable figures of abstraction, NH3 and H2O.
> Consideration dares not dwell upon this view; that
> way madness lies; science carries us into zones of
> speculation, where there is no habitable city for
> the mind of man.-----
>
> Cf. the first graf of "The Call of Cthulhu" --
> agreed?
>
> RLS continues:
>
> -----We behold space sown with rotatory islands,
> suns and worlds and the shards and wrecks of
> systems: some, like the sun, still blazing; some
> rotting, like the earth; others, like the moon,
> stable in desolation. All of these we take to be
> made of something we call matter: a thing which no
> analysis can help us to conceive; to whose
> incredible properties no familiarity can reconcile
> our minds. This stuff, when not purified by the
> lustration of fire, rots uncleanly into something
> we call life; seized through all its atoms with a
> pediculous malady; swelling into tumours that
> become independent, sometimes even (by an
> abhorrent prodigy) locomotory; one splitting into
> millions, millions cohering into one, as the
> malady proceeds through varying stages. This vital
> putrescence of the dust, used as we are to it, yet
> strikes us with occasional disgust, and the
> profusion of worms in a piece of ancient turf, or
> the air of a marsh darkened with insects, will
> sometimes check our breathing so that we aspire
> for cleaner places. But none is clean: the moving
> sand is infected with lice; the pure spring, where
> it bursts out of the mountain, is a mere issue of
> worms; even in the hard rock the crystal is
> forming.----
>
> If someone had presented this passage to me and
> asked me the well-known name of the author, I
> don't suppose I'd have guessed it. Rankin
> described this as "cosmic horror" Dead Man's
> Chest, p. 234). I've read it for the first time
> while writing this message.
>
> The essay develops and concludes in an
> un-Lovecraftian direction; not for RLS is HPL's
> usually comfortable cosmic futility.

This is a profoundly pessimistic, decadent view. What was the intended purpose of the essay, do you think?

--Sawfish

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"The food at the new restaurant is awful, but at least the portions are large."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I wondered about that, Sawfish. I think RLS probably wanted to make a sort of skeptic's case for a positive outlook for humanity. He wanted to say: OK, fine: let's take it that the universe is "alien" to us and that we and all life are implicated in predation. Let's allow further that human beings commit atrocities and wallow in stupidity and boredom and that much of our religion is unworthy of a thinking person or even a decent person. Even so there is real reason to believe that, in us especially, the universe is moving towards a positive end [rather than towards sheer entropy].

That's roughly what I get from the piece.

I imagine HPL would say RLS was on the right track at first, and that HPL would dismiss the rest as wishful thinking -- at least, that's what HPL would do in typical moods. I think it was important for him to regard himself as the wholly disillusioned man who had a tolerant, though superior, regard for friends who couldn't go that far with him.

But it's mildly interesting to wonder what a discussion between these two might have been like. If Stevenson had lived, he'd have been about 70 when Lovecraft was 30. Lovecraft would have respected RLS's weird writing and his "natural bohemian aristocratic" skinniness, manners, paleness, and ancestry. Give RLS just a little more life so he can get married and possibly he would have thought the RLS-Fanny Osbourne marriage was like his own to Sonia Greene -- skinny literary chap marries a buxom, determined divorcee some years older than himself.

My conclusion is that nobody is able to view life completely objectively. We are all subject to our genes and early upbringing, which affect our perspectives. Down at heart we all think emotionally, defending our own position as best we can. Some have better brains than others, and some have better early conditioning than others to see things more objectively, but there is never complete objectivity.

Individuals with too cuddly upbringing, can often become naïve or smugly self-centered. Individuals with harsh or miserable background (materially or emotionally), either resign, or struggle to come to terms with life; materialistically, intellectually, or spiritually. Most individuals are not idealistic or searching, they simply egoistically settle for making their own life as comfortable as they can. They go by the social codes they have been taught and conditioned with, for good or bad.

No one is exempted from these limitations in objective outlook. Some are better at it than others. And there is certainly no fair equality among humans.

Scientists, and artists like Stevenson and Lovecraft, are searching individuals, but can never reach all the way to complete intellectual integrity. It is not possible within the limitations of our bodies. Ultimately we are all pathetic emotional creatures. To laugh at others (as opposed to with), is the height of small-minded arrogance.

Knygatin Wrote:
-------------------------------------------------------
>
> Scientists, and artists like Stevenson and
> Lovecraft, are searching individuals, but can
> never reach all the way to complete intellectual
> integrity. It is not possible within the
> limitations of our bodies. Ultimately we are all
> pathetic emotional creatures.

If one takes into account a spiritual, divine, dimension of ourselves, the view of the equation becomes a little different.

I’ve just wondered if RLS was experimenting with a point of view. Whether he had a consistent metaphysics, I don’t know.

Chesterton wrote a book on RLS, which I haven’t read yet though I was given a copy. GKC also refers to RLS as being an author who helped him in the time of his youthful inner crisis, in the poem that prefaces The Man Who Was Thursday.

Knygatin Wrote:
-------------------------------------------------------
> My conclusion is that nobody is able to view life
> completely objectively. We are all subject to our
> genes and early upbringing, which affect our
> perspectives. Down at heart we all think
> emotionally, defending our own position as best we
> can. Some have better brains than others, and some
> have better early conditioning than others to see
> things more objectively, but there is never
> complete objectivity.

This is as close to an absolute truth as I am able to imagine. Paradoxically, subjectivity is not possible for a sentient entity, so far as I can see.

But one *strives* for objectivity, except in areas where one is free to please one's own emotions and sensibilities, without regard to social interactions.

>
> Individuals with too cuddly upbringing, can often
> become naïve or smugly self-centered. Individuals
> with harsh or miserable background (materially or
> emotionally), either resign, or struggle to come
> to terms with life; materialistically,

I did not have a harsh life, but my parents did and this leaked into my default worldview.

> intellectually, or spiritually. Most individuals
> are not idealistic or searching, they simply
> egoistically settle for making their own life as
> comfortable as they can. They go by the social
> codes they have been taught and conditioned with,
> for good or bad.

The approach I've evolved to is as much material security as I can accumulate, but my imagination/thoughts are my own free range.

So in many situations you do one thing to secure material benefits, but your actual values are, or can be, unconnected.

>
> No one is exempted from these limitations in
> objective outlook. Some are better at it than
> others. And there is certainly no fair equality
> among humans.
>
> Scientists, and artists like Stevenson and
> Lovecraft, are searching individuals, but can
> never reach all the way to complete intellectual
> integrity.

Like perfection, unachievable, but an excellent and noble goal.

> It is not possible within the
> limitations of our bodies. Ultimately we are all
> pathetic emotional creatures. To laugh at others
> (as opposed to with), is the height of
> small-minded arrogance.

Or, it's whistling in the dark.

--Sawfish

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"The food at the new restaurant is awful, but at least the portions are large."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sawfish Wrote:
-------------------------------------------------------
> Knygatin Wrote:
> --------------------------------------------------
>
> > ... It is not possible within the
> > limitations of our bodies. Ultimately we are all
> > pathetic emotional creatures. To laugh at others
> > (as opposed to with), is the height of
> > small-minded arrogance.
>
> .... Or, it's whistling in the dark.

;D

Thanks for all your remarks.

Sawfish Wrote:

> The approach I've evolved to is as much material
> security as I can accumulate, but my
> imagination/thoughts are my own free range.

I was out for that walk (much of it under branches!) that I mentioned elsewhere today and found myself remembering this remark. And I wonder about it, because it would seem that the accumulation of which you write is future-oriented; so if you are preoccupied with prepping for the future, your imagination is thus occupied; so is it free? Just would welcome your comments on that, though this topic is a digression from Stevenson.

To revert to him & other writers --

My sense is that Stevenson's imagination was largely occupied with the past and present. As regards the present, he was something of a campaigner for the Samoans against imperialists, late in his life. As regards the past, he had an interest in historical knowledge strictly so called (a very early writing of his had to do with an episode in the Scottish Pentland Hills), but of course also in terms of his creative writing. It's safe to say that all of his long imaginative works were historical fictions -- Treasure Island, Kidnapped, its sequel Catriona (aka David Balfour), The Master of Ballantrae, The Black Arrow, the unfinished Weir of Hermiston (which some think could have been his masterpiece). Lesser works such as St Ives (which I haven't read) were also historical in focus, although he did write long fictions set in the present, at least he did so as a collaborator.

The historical past, as well as the fabulous distant past of Atlantis, etc. has been a preoccupation of most weird fiction writers, hasn't it? I won't need to make the case that that is so for Lovecraft and Robert E. Howard, I suppose. Similarly with M. R. James. These men really knew things certain about historical times. They were at least amateurs, and James was a true professional, a world-class scholar in fact. My Sheridan Le Fanu is a bit rusty but I am sure he was interested in writing historical fiction.

So RLS is right in there in company with these authors identified more than he is exclusively with weird fiction.

Meinhold's Amber Witch was actually written as a historical document to hoax people, if I remember rightly! So there's another author in the genre with strong antiquarian or historical interests.

Click here for an antiquarian bookstore in England.

[www.jarndyce.co.uk]

Looks to me like some RLS books are not in all that great of demand:

[www.jarndyce.co.uk]



Edited 5 time(s). Last edit at 14 Sep 21 | 07:21PM by Dale Nelson.

Ran across this article about UK stamps from around 25 years ago:

[stampaday.wordpress.com]

RLS's Mr. Hyde was included along with Dracula, Frankenstein (as visualized by the Karloff movies), and one more frightening entity. Care to guess what it was before you click on the link? You might feel cheated when you do.

Dale Nelson Wrote:
-------------------------------------------------------
> Sawfish Wrote:
>
> > The approach I've evolved to is as much
> material
> > security as I can accumulate, but my
> > imagination/thoughts are my own free range.
>
> I was out for that walk (much of it under
> branches!) that I mentioned elsewhere today and
> found myself remembering this remark. And I
> wonder about it, because it would seem that the
> accumulation of which you write is
> future-oriented; so if you are preoccupied with
> prepping for the future, your imagination is thus
> occupied; so is it free? Just would welcome your
> comments on that, though this topic is a
> digression from Stevenson.
Yes, exactly.

For many years I have realized that I do not live in the present. Mostly it is in the future, and on occasion in the past. And think about it: the present is momentary, transitory. I have read of people who are able to actually "live in the moment", and I believe that it's possible, but not for me.

The past is beyond control, so aside for learning or reminiscing, it's got more value than the present--which is so transitory as to be beyond control.

The future is limitless, inchoate. You can attempt to control what will show up in the present, somewhat, and for a very long time I've spent most of my time there. I would not know how to do otherwise.

>
> To revert to him & other writers --
>
> My sense is that Stevenson's imagination was
> largely occupied with the past and present. As
> regards the present, he was something of a
> campaigner for the Samoans against imperialists,
> late in his life. As regards the past, he had an
> interest in historical knowledge strictly so
> called (a very early writing of his had to do with
> an episode in the Scottish Pentland Hills), but of
> course also in terms of his creative writing.
> It's safe to say that all of his long imaginative
> works were historical fictions -- Treasure Island,
> Kidnapped, its sequel Catriona (aka David
> Balfour), The Master of Ballantrae, The Black
> Arrow, the unfinished Weir of Hermiston (which
> some think could have been his masterpiece).
> Lesser works such as St Ives (which I haven't
> read) were also historical in focus, although he
> did write long fictions set in the present, at
> least he did so as a collaborator.
>
> The historical past, as well as the fabulous
> distant past of Atlantis, etc. has been a
> preoccupation of most weird fiction writers,
> hasn't it? I won't need to make the case that
> that is so for Lovecraft and Robert E. Howard, I
> suppose. Similarly with M. R. James. These men
> really knew things certain about historical times.
> They were at least amateurs, and James was a true
> professional, a world-class scholar in fact. My
> Sheridan Le Fanu is a bit rusty but I am sure he
> was interested in writing historical fiction.
>
> So RLS is right in there in company with these
> authors identified more than he is exclusively
> with weird fiction.
>
> Meinhold's Amber Witch was actually written as a
> historical document to hoax people, if I remember
> rightly! So there's another author in the genre
> with strong antiquarian or historical interests.
>
> Click here for an antiquarian bookstore in
> England.
>
> [www.jarndyce.co.uk]
>
> Looks to me like some RLS books are not in all
> that great of demand:
>
> [www.jarndyce.co.uk]
> ock=5&catalog=229&stksearch=go

--Sawfish

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"The food at the new restaurant is awful, but at least the portions are large."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sawfish Wrote:

> For many years I have realized that I do not live
> in the present. Mostly it is in the future, and on
> occasion in the past. And think about it: the
> present is momentary, transitory. I have read of
> people who are able to actually "live in the
> moment", and I believe that it's possible, but not
> for me.
>
> The past is beyond control, so aside for learning
> or reminiscing, it's got more value than the
> present--which is so transitory as to be beyond
> control.

Isn't this a situation, though, in which the goalposts constantly move correspondingly farther away as you move towards them?

Dale Nelson Wrote:
-------------------------------------------------------
> Sawfish Wrote:
>
> > For many years I have realized that I do not
> live
> > in the present. Mostly it is in the future, and
> on
> > occasion in the past. And think about it: the
> > present is momentary, transitory. I have read
> of
> > people who are able to actually "live in the
> > moment", and I believe that it's possible, but
> not
> > for me.
> >
> > The past is beyond control, so aside for
> learning
> > or reminiscing, it's got more value than the
> > present--which is so transitory as to be beyond
> > control.
>
> Isn't this a situation, though, in which the
> goalposts constantly move correspondingly farther
> away as you move towards them?

We are miles apart on this one, maybe...

For me, it's not how it works. It would work if you had a concrete life goal or goals, but if the overall goal is something like "...and I want everything in my life that's arguably under my control to some significant degree to be *better*, by my own evaluation, than it is today," you never expect to complete your final goal.

You have interim, finite, more precise goals that you adopt as you recognize opportunities as they arise.

So in a sense, you intentionally move all of your goalpost, except for the vague, overriding one, which is open-ended.

--Sawfish

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"The food at the new restaurant is awful, but at least the portions are large."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~