The Works of Robert Louis Stevenson - Swanston Edition, Vol. 05 — A Reader’s Guide

The Dedication as a Key to Tone

The dedication to Messrs. Cole and Cox is more than a courtesy: it establishes the authors’ stance toward their subject. They speak of 'that ugly devil of crime' and admit to having 'coquetted with political crime' themselves, likening their earlier attitude to a schoolboy applauding 'what was specious.' This self-implication is rare in adventure fiction and invites the reader to consider the moral complexity beneath the surface. The dedication ends by praising the police officers’ role as 'pure,' a stark contrast to the murky morality of the tales that follow. Readers should note how this framing colors the subsequent narratives, especially the story of the 'Destroying Angel' and the 'Spirited Old Lady,' where crime is presented with a mixture of horror and ironic detachment.

Voice and Psychological Detail in 'The Dynamiter'

The excerpt from the 'Story of the Fair Cuban' showcases Stevenson’s ability to render psychological states through physical description. The narrator recoils from Madam Mendizabal not because of her appearance alone—she is described as having 'elegant carriage' and 'musical speech'—but because of 'some emanation of her soul' that causes 'a kind of fainting terror.' The woman’s cruelty is conveyed through dialogue: she speaks of 'breaking' servants and takes 'a pleasure' in threatening a whip. The narrator’s flight, described as a 'cry of rage, fear, and despair,' is followed by a father who 'started and turned pale' at the mention of the stranger. These details build a world where power dynamics are unstable and fear is contagious, a pattern that likely recurs throughout the collection.

Structure and Framing Devices

The table of contents reveals a complex nested structure: 'The Dynamiter' is divided into multiple adventures (Challoner’s, Somerset’s, Desborough’s), each containing sub-stories like 'Story of the Destroying Angel' and 'Zero’s Tale of the Explosive Bomb.' This frame-within-frame technique, reminiscent of the earlier 'New Arabian Nights,' suggests that the reader should pay attention to how tales are embedded and who tells them. The 'Prologue of the Cigar Divan' and 'Epilogue of the Cigar Divan' bookend the work, implying a setting where stories are exchanged among a group. The inclusion of 'Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde'—a tightly focused novella—alongside this sprawling, collaborative work creates a contrast in narrative economy that rewards comparison.

From Collaborative Adventure to Gothic Novella

The volume’s second half shifts dramatically with 'Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde.' The chapter titles—'Story of the Door,' 'Search for Mr. Hyde,' 'The Carew Murder Case'—indicate a detective-like progression, while 'Henry Jekyll’s Full Statement of the Case' promises a first-person revelation. The excerpts do not include the novella’s text, but its presence alongside 'The Dynamiter' invites the reader to consider how Stevenson handles similar themes—duplicity, hidden identities, the eruption of violence—in different modes. 'Thrawn Janet,' a short story, closes the volume with a Scottish supernatural tale, offering yet another register. Readers may find it instructive to compare the collaborative, ironic tone of the opening with the concentrated horror of Jekyll and Hyde, noting how Stevenson adapts his style to each form.

As you read, observe how the dedication’s promise of levity interacts with the actual violence and fear depicted in the excerpts. The volume rewards attention to narrative frames—who tells each story and why—and to the recurring motif of characters who are not what they seem. Whether in the Cuban island or the London streets of Jekyll and Hyde, Stevenson’s prose insists on the physical and emotional reality of his characters’ experiences, even when the plots veer toward the fantastical.

I remember returning to the Swanston volume this autumn, lingering over the queer, clinical dread of Jekyll’s confession. It made me think of a quieter book I once read, one that similarly turned a haunting inward rather than outward. There is a particular ache in both, a sense of something owned but never fully possessed. That’s what I recall from The magnificent possession — A Closer Reading.