One hundred years ago
ON MONDAY, a Reuter's telegram from Auckland announced the death of Mr. Robert Louis Stevenson, the well- known novelist. He died on Monday evening, December 3rd. Two hours before the end Mr. Stevenson said to his wife, 'I have a strange pain in my head', He almost immediately fell back insen- sible, and never recovered conscious- ness. The cause of death was sudden, paralysis of the brain, accompanied by collapse of the lungs. The funeral of Mr. Stevenson took place on the following day, his body being buried on the sum- mit of Pala Mountain, 1,300 ft above the sea-level — the place which he had always pointed out for his grave, Some doubts have been thrown on the accura- cy of the report, but we fear there is /it' tle hope that it will not be confirmed. We have dealt elsewhere with Mt. Stevenson's contribution to literature', and will only say here that, in spite 01 the extraordinary charm and vividness of his romances and of his power of humour, his work as an essayist far more nearly approaches the ideal field dard than his achievement in the fiagel° of fiction. "The Journey with a Donkeyt in the Cevennes" is, in its way, a perfec.ns book. This cannot be said of any of I novels though many of the characters are extraordinarily striking; and an "Treasure-Island," "Prince Otto," au, "The Wrecker," Mr. Stevenson showed that he could be equally at home in the story of adventure, the romance of sen timent, and the modern novel.
The Spectator 22 December 1894
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