CHAPTER I

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[Illustration: Fanny Van de Grift Stevenson during the English

period.]

THE LIFE OF

MRS. ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON

BY

NELLIE VAN DE GRIFT SANCHEZ

ILLUSTRATED

LONDON

CHATTO & WINDUS

1920

Copyright, 1920, by Charles Scribner's Sons, for the

United States of America

Printed by the Scribner Press

New York, U. S. A.

TO

ISOBEL FIELD

IN TOKEN OF OUR COMMON LOVE FOR

HER WHOSE LIFE STORY IS TOLD IN ITS PAGES

THIS BOOK

IS AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATED.

PREFACE

When I first set out to tell the life story of Mrs. Robert Louis

Stevenson, I received the following letter from her old friend Mr.

Bruce Porter:

"Once when I urged your sister to set down the incidents of her life

she listened, pondered, and then dismissed the suggestion as

impossible, as her life had been like a dazed rush on a railroad

express, and she despaired of recovering the incidental memories. The

years with Stevenson have of course been adequately told, but the

earlier period--Indianapolis and California--had a romance as

stirring, even if sharpened by the American glare. This sharpness has

already, for all of us, begun to fade, to take on the glamour of time

and distance, and I cannot think of a better literary service than to

make the fullest possible record now, before it utterly fades away."

It was not only the difficulty of recalling events that caused her to

resist all urgings to undertake this task, but a certain shy

reluctance in speaking of herself that was characteristic of her. It

has, therefore, fallen to me to collect the widely scattered material

from various parts of the world and weave it into a coherent whole as

best I may, but my regret will never cease that she did not herself

tell her own story.

It would take a more competent pen than mine to do her justice; but

whoever reads this book from cover to cover will surely agree that no

woman ever had a life of more varied experiences nor went through them

all with a stauncher courage.

It is right that I should acknowledge here my profound obligation to

the kind friends who have generously placed their personal

recollections at my disposal. These are more definitely referred to in

the body of the book. Aside from these personal contributions, the

main sources of material have been as follows:

Ancestral genealogies, including _The Descendants of Jöran Kyn_, by

Doctor Gregory B. Keen, secretary of the Pennsylvania Historical

Society.

Data concerning the genealogy of the Keen and Van de Grift families

collected by Frederic Thomas, of New York, nephew of Mrs. Stevenson.

Notes covering the life of Mrs. Stevenson up to the age of sixteen

years, as dictated by herself.

A collection of her own letters to friends and relatives.

Letters to Mrs. Stevenson from friends.

Extracts from various books and magazines, including _The Letters of

Mrs. M. I. Stevenson_ (Methuen and Company, London); _The Life of

Robert Louis Stevenson_, by Graham Balfour; _The Letters of Robert

Louis Stevenson_, edited by Sidney Colvin; _Vailima Memories_, by

Lloyd Osbourne and Isobel Osbourne Strong, now Mrs. Salisbury Field;

_The Cruise of the Janet Nichol_, by Mrs. Robert Louis Stevenson;

_McClure's_, _Scribner's_, and the _Century_ magazines. Acknowledgment

is due the publishers of the above books and periodicals for their

courteous permissions.

A diary kept by Mrs. Stevenson of her life in Samoa, for which I am

indebted to the considerate kindness of Miss Gladys Peacock, an

English lady, into whose hands the diary fell by accident.

My own personal recollections.

Above all, I wish to express my heartfelt gratitude to Mrs.

Stevenson's daughter, Isobel Field, without whose unflagging zeal in

forwarding the work it could scarcely have been carried to a

successful conclusion, and to my son, Louis A. Sanchez, for valuable

assistance in the actual writing of the book.

N. V. S.

Berkeley, California, January, 1919.

CONTENTS

CHAPTER PAGE

I. Ancestors 1

II. Early Days in Indiana 9

III. On the Pacific Slope 26

IV. France, and the Meeting at Grez 42

V. In California with Robert Louis Stevenson 55

VI. Europe and the British Isles 82

VII. Away to Sunnier Lands 124

VIII. The Happy Years in Samoa 167

IX. The Lonely Days of Widowhood 226

X. Back To California 260

XI. Travels in Mexico and Europe 279

XII. The Last Days at Santa Barbara 297

ILLUSTRATIONS

Fanny Van de Grift Stevenson during the English period.

_Frontispiece_

Facing Page

John Keen, about 83 years of age, maternal great-grandfather

of Fanny Van de Grift Stevenson. 2

Jacob Van de Grift, about 56 years of age, father of Fanny

Van de Grift Stevenson. 6

The Van de Grift residence at the corner of Illinois and

Washington Streets, Indianapolis. 22

The bridge at Grez. 46

Fanny Osbourne at about the time of her first meeting with

Robert Louis Stevenson. 48

Robert Louis Stevenson in the French days. 50

Fanny Osbourne at the time of her marriage to Robert

Louis Stevenson. 78

The house at Vailima with the additions made to the first

structure. 194

Mrs. Robert Louis Stevenson. 262

The house at Hyde and Lombard Streets, San Francisco,

with some alterations in the way of bay windows, etc.,

which have been made since Mrs. Stevenson sold it. 266

The house at Vanumanutagi ranch. 274

Stonehedge at Santa Barbara. 298

The last portrait of Mrs. Stevenson. 306

The funeral procession as it wound up the hill. 332

The tomb, showing the bronze tablet with the verse from

Stevenson's poem to his wife. 336

THE LIFE OF MRS. ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON

CHAPTER I

ANCESTORS.

To arrive at a full understanding of the complex and unusual character

of Fanny Van de Grift Stevenson, which perhaps played as large a part

as her beauty and intellectual charm in drawing to her the affections

of one of the greatest romance writers of our day, one must go back

and seek out all the uncommon influences that combined to produce

it--a long line of sturdy ancestors, running back to the first

adventurers who left their sheltered European homes and sailed across

the sea to try their fortunes in a wild, unknown land; her childhood

days spent among the hardy surroundings of pioneer Indiana, with its

hints of a past tropical age and its faint breath of Indian

reminiscence; the early breaking of her own family ties and her

fearless adventuring by way of the Isthmus of Panama to the distant

land of gold, and her brave struggle against adverse circumstances in

the mining camps of Nevada. All these prenatal influences and personal

experiences, so foreign to the protected lives of the women of

Stevenson's own race, threw about her an atmosphere of thrilling New

World romance that appealed with irresistible force to the man who was

himself Romance personified.

Fanny Stevenson was a lineal descendant of two of the oldest families

in the United States, her first ancestors landing in this country in

the early part of the seventeenth century. In 1642 Jöran Kyn, called

"The Snow White," reached America in the ship _Fama_ as a member of

the life-guard of John Printz, governor of the Swedish colony

established in the New World by King Gustavus Adolphus. He took up a

large tract of land and was living in peace and comfort on the

Delaware River when William Penn landed in America. He was the

progenitor of eleven generations of descendants born on American soil.

His memory is embalmed in an old document still extant as "a man who

never irritated even a child."

In the list of his descendants one Matthias stands out as "a tall

handsome man, with a very melodious voice which could be intelligibly

heard at times across the Delaware."

[Illustration: John Keen, about 83 years of age, maternal

great-grandfather of Fanny Van de Grift Stevenson.]

A later descendant, John Keen, born in 1747, fought and shed his blood

in the war of American Independence, having been wounded in the battle

of Princeton while in the act of delivering a message to General

Washington. It was he who married Mildred Cook, daughter of James

Cook, an English sea-captain who commanded the _London Packet_, plying

between London and New York. Family tradition has it that he was a

near relative of Captain Cook of South Sea fame. When Fanny Stevenson

went a-sailing in the South Seas, following in the track of the great

explorer, she boldly claimed this kinship, and, much to her

delight, was immediately christened Tappeni Too-too, which was as near

as the natives could come to Captain Cook's name.

We have a charming old-fashioned silhouette portrait in our family of

a lovely young creature with a dainty profile and curls gathered in a

knot. It is "sweet Kitty Weaver," who married John Cook Keen, son of

the Revolutionary hero, and became the grandmother of Fanny Stevenson.

Little Fanny, when on a visit to Philadelphia in her childhood days,

was shown a pair of red satin slippers worn by this lady, and was no

doubt given a lecture on the folly of vanity, for it was by walking

over the snow to her carriage in the little red slippers that sweet

Kitty Weaver caught the cold which caused her death.

Our mother, Esther Thomas Keen, one of John and Kitty Keen's six

children, was born in Philadelphia, December 3, 1811. She was

described by one who knew her in her youth as "a little beauty of the

dark vivid type, with perfectly regular features, black startled eyes,

and quantities of red-brown curls just the color of a cherry wood

sideboard that stood in her house." She was a tiny creature, under

five feet in height, and never in her life weighed more than ninety

pounds; but in spite of that she was exceedingly strong, swift in her

movements, straight as an arrow to the end of her days, and always

went leaping up the stairs, even when she was over eighty. Fear was

absolutely unknown to her. She once caught a mad dog and held its

mouth shut with her hands, protecting her children till help came.

She was resourceful in emergency, whether it was sickness or accident,

and never lost her presence of mind. She had a tender sympathy for

animals and all weak, suffering, and young creatures, and it could be

truthfully said of her, as of Jöran Kyn, her ancestor, that she "never

irritated even a child." Her daughter Fanny said of her: "I never

heard my mother speak an angry word, no matter what the provocation,

and she was the mother of seven children. No matter what the offense

might be she always found an excuse." In this she was like the old

Scotch woman who, when told she would find something to praise even in

the devil, said: "Weel, there's nae denyin' he's a verra indoostrious

body."

It was from our little mother that my sister Fanny inherited her vivid

dark beauty, her reticence, her fortitude in suffering, her

fearlessness in the presence of danger, and her unfailing

resourcefulness.

Jacob Leendertsen Van de Grift, the first paternal ancestor of whom we

have any record, settled in Bucks County, Pennsylvania, towards the

close of the seventeenth century. The graves of several of his

descendants are still to be seen in the fine old cemetery at

Andalusia, and upon the tombstone of one of them is this epitaph:

"Farewell my friends and wife so dear,

I am not dead but sleeping here.

My debts are paid, my grave you see."

This name has descended in an unbroken line from Jacob Leendertsen Van

de Grift, of New Amsterdam, through eleven generations, to the

brother of Fanny Stevenson, Jacob Van de Grift, of Riverside,

California.

John Miller, a paternal great-grandfather of ours, was also Dutch. The

family account of him is that he fought at Brandywine, crossed the

Delaware with Washington, was wounded at the battle of Trenton, and

that when he died, at the age of eighty-four years, the city of

Philadelphia paid him the tribute of burial with military honours.

Miller married twice, and it was Elizabeth, a daughter by his second

wife, who married a Jacob Van de Grift.

Her son, Jacob Van de Grift, was born in Philadelphia in 1816. Upon

the early death of her first husband she married again, presenting to

her children the cruel stepfather of fiction. Indeed, the story of our

father's childhood and youth and the adventures of his brothers and

sisters reads more like melodrama than sober fact. One brother, Harry,

wandering disconsolate in the market-place, was carried off by a kind

and wealthy Kentuckian, who took a fancy to the handsome boy and

brought him up as his own son. Matilda, the beauty of the family,

seeing a peaceful Quaker couple sitting by a window, was so struck by

the contrast between their gentle lives and her own that she went into

the house and asked to be allowed to stay with them. The kind-hearted

people were so touched by her distress and beauty that they adopted

her as their own. Little Jacob, encouraged by the success of his

brother and sister, ran away on his own account, but fell into evil

hands, and was beaten and ill-used until rescued by his beautiful

sister Matilda. Fortunately for Jacob, he found favour in the sight of

Grandfather Miller, who educated him, dressed him well, and gave him a

good allowance. At this time there was an outbreak of small riots in

Philadelphia, caused by roughs attacking the Quakers. The

"shadbellies," as they were derisively called, did not fight back,

which made the sport all the more alluring to the cowardly rioters.

Young Van de Grift, who was an excellent amateur boxer, joined in

these frays with enthusiasm in defense of the Quakers. It was not only

his fine American spirit of fair play that urged him into these

fights, but he felt a deep gratitude to the Quakers all his life on

account of his sister Matilda. Strangely enough, Grandfather Miller

disapproved of young Van de Grift's conduct. He scolded and fumed, and

when, early one morning, his grandson was found on his door-step

beaten black and blue, the unreasonable old man, utterly losing sight

of the chivalric cause, sent the troublesome lad away--to the farthest

place, in fact, that he could reach. This place turned out to be the

frontier backwoods town of Indianapolis, Indiana.

Here Jacob's attention was soon attracted by a pretty young woman, a

tiny, dainty creature named Esther Keen (our mother, whom I have

already described), who was on a visit to her sister. The records show

that they were married in Philadelphia in 1837.

[Illustration: Jacob Van de Grift, about 56 years of age, father of

Fanny Van de Grift Stevenson.]

Like many another irresponsible young man, Jacob Van de Grift married

became quite a different person. Returning to Indianapolis, he

built a house for himself with the aid of friends, and, launching out

into the lumber business, soon became one of the prosperous and solid

citizens of the place. His house was on the "Circle," next door to

Henry Ward Beecher's church. This was Mr. Beecher's first pastorate,

and between him and his neighbour a warm friendship sprang up. In

after years, when Beecher had become a national figure and scandal

attacked his name, the friend of his youth, Jacob Van de Grift, clung

loyally to his faith in his old pastor and firmly refused to believe

any of the charges against him.

The little house on the Circle was made into a pleasant home partly by

furniture sent by Jacob's mother from Philadelphia, partly by articles

made by himself, for he had served a short apprenticeship at

cabinet-making while living in his grandfather's house. Among other

pieces of furniture made by him was the cradle in which Fanny Van de

Grift was rocked. As long as she lived she never forgot just how this

cradle looked.

Jacob Van de Grift, father of Fanny Van de Grift Stevenson, was a

fine-looking man, broad-shouldered and deep-chested, slightly above

medium height, blue-eyed, black-haired, and with the regular features

and rosy complexion of his Dutch ancestors. One particularly noticed

the extraordinarily keen expression of his eyes, which seemed to pin

you to the wall when he looked at you. This penetrating glance was

inherited by his daughter Fanny, and was often remarked upon by those

who met her. He made money easily but spent it royally, and, in

consequence, died comparatively poor. He had a hasty temper but a

generous heart, and while his hand was always open to the poor and

unhappy, it was a closed fist ready to strike straight from the

shoulder to resent an insult or defend the oppressed. Like his

ancestor of the Andalusia cemetery, he could not endure to owe any man

a debt. It was from our father that my sister Fanny inherited her

broad and tolerant outlook on life, her hatred of injustice and

cruelty, her punctiliousness in money matters, and her steadfast

loyalty to friends.

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