APPENDIX E

MUCH has been said of the pains taken by Stevenson, and of the number of times he wrote and rewrote his work, until it satisfied him. It may be interesting to compare four drafts of the beginning of his last and greatest novel- Weir of Hermiston. There is none but internal evidence of the date or order of the first three of these versions. The story, however, was begun in October, 1892, resumed in the summer of 1893, and taken up for the last time in September, 1894. To the notes given by Mr. Colvin there may be added the fact that, as early as 1869, Stevenson had written a rough unfinished ballad of a girl meeting her outlawed lover at the Cauldstaneslap, from which the poem was to take its name.

CHAPTER I

IN WHICH LORD HERMISTON IS WIDOWED

returned

When the Court rose, and the family came back to Hermiston, it was a common remark that the lady was sore failed. She had been always what you would call an elderly body: there was no blood of youth in

-and-little-that-was-efficient

the woman, nothing but piety and anxiety, Her house in George Square (people said) was exceedingly ill-guided; nothing answerable to the expense of maintenance except the cellar, and that was my lord's own concern and a place always to be mentioned with respect. When things went wrong, as they continually did, "Keep me!" she would cry, with a little fluttering way she had, and clasp her hands. As for my lord, he would look down the table at her with his “hanging face," as they call it in the Parliament House. "I think ye must have given over to the Grumbletonians, Mrs. Weir," he would say; "I think these broth would be better to sweem in than to sup."

no grasp or force, nothing but piety and anxiety: a mixture of the hen, the angel, and the mouse, with perhaps most of the hen, she fled through life with a sound of whimpering and psalms.

CHAPTER I

When the Court rose in the year one, and the family returned to

all

Hermiston, it was a common remark in that part of the country, that the lady was sore failed. She was known there, in that from a child; and her folk before her, the old "Riding Rutherfords of Hermiston," of whom she was the last, the men had been famous of yore, ill husbands to their wives in the country;

ill husbands to their wives, and famous ill neighbours; their exploits, now that they were happily ended, had begun to be recalled with

complaisance, and made a part of the local mythology; and-people

the

saw with it was with a sense of the instability and decay of things, that men beheld the high-handed and heavy-handed race die out in the incongruous person of their last descendant. She had not been at first

wholly without charm ^; neighbours recalled in her, as a child, a

wilfulness

strain of elfin-gaiety, gentle little mutinies, sad little gaieties, even a promise of frail beauty that was not to be fulfilled. In the long generations past, while a male Rutherford was riding at the head of his spears or tossing pots and brawling in taverns, there had always been a whitefaced and silent wife immured at home in the old peel or the later mansion-house.

CHAPTER I

The Lord Justice-Clerk was a stranger in that part of the country;

as

had been
^

but his lady wife was known there from a child, and her folk before her. The old "riding Rutherfords of Hermiston," of whom she was the last, had been famous men of yore, ill husbands to their wives, ill neighbours in the country, blackguard a high- and heavy-handed race blackguard Tales of them were rife in twenty miles about; and -even found their way

some of them had sneaked into the chronicles of Scotland, little enough to their repute, one was hanged at his peel-door by James theth Fifth; one had fallen dead in a carouse with Tam Dalyell; a third, and that was Jean's own father, died at a sitting of a Hell-fire

Club he had founded in Crossmichael. At that very hour he had ten pleas going, eight of them oppressive and three before the inner house.

(Final Version as Printed)

CHAPTER I

LIFE AND DEATH OF MRS. WEIR

The Lord Justice-Clerk was a stranger in that part of the country: but his lady wife was known there from a child, as her race had been before her. The old "riding Rutherfords of Hermiston," of whom she was the last descendant, had been famous men of yore, ill neighbours, ill subjects, and ill husbands to their wives, though not their properties. Tales of them were rife for twenty miles about; and their name was even printed in the page of our Scots histories, not always to their credit. One bit the dust at Flodden; one was hanged at his peel-door by James the Fifth; another fell dead in a carouse with Tom Dalyell; while a fourth (and that was Jean's own father) died presiding at a Hell-fire Club, of which he was the founder. . . . In all these generations, while a male Rutherford was in the saddle with his lads or brawling in a changehouse, there would be always a white-faced wife immured at home in the old peel or the later mansion-house. It seemed this succession of martyrs bided long, but took their vengeance in the end, and that was in the person of the last descendant, Jean. She bore the name of the Rutherfords, but she was the daughter of their trembling wives. At the first she was not wholly without charm. Neighbours recalled in her, as a child, a strain of elfin wilfulness, gentle little mutinies, sad little gaieties, even a morning gleam of beauty that was not to be fulfilled. She withered in the growing, and (whether it was the sins of her sires or the sorrows of her mothers) came to her maturity depressed, and, as it were, defaced; no blood of life in her, no grasp or gaiety; pious, anxious, tender, tearful, and incompetent. . . .

The heresy about foolish women is always punished, I have said, and Lord Hermiston began to pay the penalty at once. His house in George Square was wretchedly ill-guided; nothing answerable to the expense of maintenance but the cellar, which was his own private care. When

things went wrong at dinner, as they continually did, my lord would look up the table at his wife: "I think these broth would be better to sweem in than to sup."

...

When the Court rose that year and the family returned to Hermiston, it was a common remark in all the country that the lady was sore failed.

APPENDIX F

CHRONOLOGICAL LIST OF THE WRITINGS OF
ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON

THIS catalogue is not in any sense a bibliography, but is intended to show as completely as possible the sequence of all Stevenson's printed writings. When any piece had been written or even begun long before it was printed, both dates have been given; otherwise it must be assumed that the manuscript went to press without delay. For obvious reasons no unprinted work has been included, nor have I cared to include ephemeral articles of no importance or trivial letters to newspapers. I should rather apologise for inclusions than for omissions, but it is difficult to draw any different line with precision.

I have used a table drawn up by Mrs. Thomas Stevenson, and am also under special obligation to Mr. Colvin's invaluable notes prefixed to the volumes of the Edinburgh Edition, but in every case where it was possible, I have verified the references anew. I have also, since my list was completed, seen the bibliography by Mr. E. D. North in the (New York) Bookman for September, 1896.

Capital letters denote the first publication in book or pamphlet form; italics the place of first magazine or periodical publication, and also the collected volume in which the piece was afterwards included.

1866.

THE PENTLAND RISING. Anonymous. Published by Andrew Elliot, Edinburgh. Dated 28th November, 1866. 22 pp. Juvenilia,† 1896.

Published or republished in Great Britain in the limited Edinburgh Edition only, and in the case of Miscellanea in A Stevenson Medley. Chatto & Windus, 1899. Limited edition of 300 copies only. In America the Thistle Edition, published by Charles Scribner's Sons, New York, 1895-98, has the same contents as the Edinburgh. H. In collaboration with Mr. W. E. Henley. O. In collaboration with Mr. Lloyd Osbourne.