Virginibus Puerisque collects a dozen short essays from Stevenson's twenties and early thirties, written in a graceful, talkative voice. The title, Latin for 'for girls and boys', signals the subject: how a young person might think about living well. The pieces range over marriage, friendship, idleness, ambition, youth and age, death, sea captains, painting, and the small pleasures of walking and gaslight, but a single concern runs through them. Stevenson keeps asking what gives a life worth and how it should be spent.
The opening title essays take up marriage. Stevenson refuses both the cynic's sneer and the sentimentalist's hymn. Marriage is a perilous remedy, he writes, because it stakes your happiness on one life instead of several, and yet it offers a friend at home so long as death holds off. He warns that comfort can soften a man into selfishness, that courtship is only the beginning rather than the end, and that the true love story commences at the altar, where the pair face a lifelong contest of wisdom and generosity. His counsel is plain rather than rosy: marriage is a field of battle, not a bed of roses, and it asks for constant kindness.
Crabbed Age and Youth defends the young against the settled certainties of their elders. Stevenson distrusts the cautious proverbs that praise the man who never forgets his umbrella, and he notes that the heroes a society builds monuments to, the Joans and Columbuses, are exactly the imprudent adventurers those proverbs would condemn. An Apology for Idlers then makes its mischievous case that loafing is a kind of education. The idler who lies in the meadow learns from the wide world while the busy man, hurrying after sixpences, often grows narrow and dead-alive. Extreme busyness is named a symptom of deficient vitality.
The book's deepest note sounds in Aes Triplex, the essay on death. Stevenson observes that few things have less real influence on healthy conduct than the prospect of dying, and that this is as it should be. To live fully you must not be forever counting the cost; the brave course is to go up to the very last with a full and busy spirit rather than to shrink and economise. El Dorado carries the same spirit into the question of desire. Because our hopes are set on an inaccessible goal, we never come to an end of anything here below, and that endlessness is a gift rather than a frustration.
The remaining papers are lighter in subject but consistent in outlook. The English Admirals admires plain courage, Child's Play recovers the imaginative seriousness of children, and Walking Tours, Pan's Pipes, and A Plea for Gas Lamps celebrate ordinary delights with affection and wit. Taken together the essays make a young writer's manifesto for living: meet life with appetite, value the spirit of an act over its results, prefer generosity and courage to prudence, and remember that to travel hopefully is a better thing than to arrive.