words by Jocelyn Howarth | rated two stars
A thoughtful analysis of Memories and Portraits, an essay collection by Robert Louis Stevenson, the mind behind Treasure Island and Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde. This review carefully considers what we might and might not gain from reading this unusual work of Victorian non-fiction. Can it stand the test of time or will it be just another memory?
Having studied English Literature at university, I am no stranger to essays written by writers about writing. George Orwell, Virginia Woolf, Henry James; they all have things to say. Robert Louis Stevenson is no different. Best known for his historical adventure novel Treasure Island and gothic horror novella Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde, he also delved into poetry, travel writing, and essay writing during his career.
Memories and Portraits is a collection of sixteen essays, the first eleven being about personal experiences and memories, the final five ranging from critical essays to a playful analysis of man’s best friend. Reading is as subjective with non-fiction as it is with fiction, and Stevenson’s collection is no exception; some of these essays I could not tell you anything about, but others are as vivid in my head as if they were memories of my own.
His collection starts out strong with the essay ‘The Foreigner at Home’, wherein Stevenson explores what it was like to live in England as a Scot. He compares the behaviours of Englishmen and Scotsmen, examining the wide variety of cultures that exist in England — ‘there are foreign parts of England’ — and mirrors it with the variety of cultures that exist in Scotland too, but emphasises that ‘even the lowest class of the educated English’ places himself on a pillar of pride above any Scottish man. Stevenson’s conclusion is that you can take the man out of Scotland, but you can’t take Scotland out of the man, that ‘even though his tongue acquires the Southern knack, he will still have a strong Scotch accent of the mind’. His fondness for his homeland and observations of the foreign country of England result in a passionate essay that I found myself absorbed by.
The fourth essay of the collection, titled ‘A College Magazine’, is where Stevenson reflects with fondness on his attempt at creating a newsletter with his college friends. Endearingly amused by his own audacity, Stevenson is honest about his excitement for the magazine, which ‘ran four months in undisturbed obscurity, and died without a gasp’, and loving in remembering the three college boys he attempted it with. It is a pleasant, pensive essay that provides a window into Stevenson’s youth.
Next is an essay called ‘An Old Scotch Gardener’. This is essentially an ode to ‘a man whose very presence could impart a savour of quaint antiquity to the baldest and most modern flower-plots’; a gardener Stevenson knew and spells out his great admiration for. What stuck out for me most was his characterisation of the gardener who, though he was a real person, felt like the complex and impressive protagonist of a great novel. Stevenson’s love for this gardener is heart-warming and it is a relatively short essay filled with soul.
Chapter 12, titled ‘The Character of Dogs’, feels like an anomaly of an essay. While those that came before are glimpses into Stevenson’s life, very personal and tender, and those that come after are critical analyses, Chapter 12 holds the passion of the former but the critical eye of the latter. I’m certain everyone knows of someone who has a pet dog that they shower with personalised doggy treats and special coats and reserve a stocking for at Christmas; equally, you likely know of someone who thinks the way dogs are treated nowadays is ridiculous, and that they are animals, not children, and should be treated with a firm hand, chin scratches, and should absolutely under no circumstances be allowed to sleep on the bed. While I am not sure which side Stevenson would fall on had he been alive today, he personifies man’s best friend and ruthlessly lists their faults: ‘vainer than man, singularly greedy of notice, singularly intolerant of ridicule, suspicious like the deaf, jealous to the degree of frenzy, and radically devoid of truth’. Stevenson has much to say about the behaviour of dogs, and those who love the animal will greatly enjoy his opinions.
As a reader and writer, the two essays I connected with the most were ‘A Gossip on a Novel of Dumas’s’ and ‘A Gossip on Romance’. For the former, the novel of Dumas’s in question was The Three Musketeers and subsequent sequels. This classic French tale of adventure was published by Dumas in Stevenson’s lifetime and devoured by the Scottish author over and over again. Having been raised on the audiobook of the novel, I am familiar with the story and the characters, which I found vital to appreciating this essay. However, even if you have no idea who D’Artagnan is, Stevenson’s infectious love for the story will still shine through – you may just feel like you’re witnessing his passion through a slightly blurred window.
The latter essay mentioned above – ‘A Gossip on Romance’ – was my favourite essay in the collection. Stevenson weighs the romance of books, the passion and the love and the heroism of the most epic tales, against the technical artistry required to make that romance good. He looks at Walter Scott’s Lady of the Lake and Guy Mannering, proclaims him to be ‘the king of the romantics’ but also an exhibition of ‘not merely bad English, or bad style; it is abominably bad narrative besides’. What is the point of romantic events if they are given no time or effort? You cannot just rely on the event itself, Stevenson points out; how the event is written and how the reader experiences it, is just as important.
So far, this review has been mostly praise for Memories and Portraits. And yet I have rated it two stars. Of the sixteen essays, only six resonated with me; the remaining ten left no impact. I could not tell you what they were about, only that I did not enjoy them or care about them. Perhaps that is a fault of my own. I didn’t know much about Stevenson prior to reading this, apart from my single read of ‘Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde’ a few years ago, and maybe my lack of knowledge on him disconnected me from many of the essays that might have meant something had I been more familiar.
There is also the slight issue of my general knowledge being based around the 21st century as opposed to the 19th century; many of Stevenson’s references meant nothing to me, resulting in a disjointed experience of reading a line and then having to search it up to discover what on earth he was talking about. I cannot fault him for referring to things he knows well, nor for the time period he was writing in, and if your knowledge matches Stevenson’s then your reading experience might be much smoother than mine was. Unfortunately, it only alienated me further from whatever point he was trying to make.
This leads me to another issue, probably the main issue I faced throughout this collection, which was that his words were hard to dissect. Again, I’ve read and enjoyed ‘Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde’; but novellas demand a succinctness that essays do not. Stevenson’s collection is discursive and the message of each essay suffers because of it. I frequently found myself lost in his tangents, re-reading previous paragraphs to remind myself of his point, reaching his conclusions with relief until realising they provided no further clarity. I am no stranger to reading essays and am well adjusted to a confusing train of thought, but that combined with the uninspiring topics of a lot of these essays made reading them a slog. Aside from the few exceptions I have praised, this collection did not gel with me, with Stevenson’s style turning even the most thought-provoking essays dry.
I would not recommend this to everyone. If you love reading essays then you’ll probably get a kick out of at least a few of them. If you love Stevenson, I would recommend it. I felt like I learned more about him than I ever expected to know, and if you find yourself enjoying each essay you’ll probably learn even more than me. You must go into this collection with curiosity. It cannot be passively consumed. You must be eager, dare I say even excited. You must be willing to take a long time with each paragraph. You must be ready to dissect it; arguably it is a good collection to dissect, should you have the time and the will. There is a wide variety of topics covered so, while you might not like all of them, you will probably find at least one or two that interest you.