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be, to make his endings "disgrace, or perhaps, degrade his

beginnings," and that no true and effectivedramatic unity and



effect and climax was to be gained. Pity that he did so much on

this perverted view of life and world and art: and well it is that



he came to perceive it, even though almost too late:- certainly too

late for that full presentment of that awful yet gladdening



presence of a God's power and equity in this seeming tangled web of

a world, the idea which inspired Robert Browning as well as



Wordsworth, when he wrote, and gathered it up into a few lines in

PIPPA PASSES:



"The year's at the spring,

And day's at the morn;



Morning's at seven;

The hillsides dew-pearled;



The lark's on the wing;

The snail's on the thorn:



God's in His heaven,

All's right with the world.



. . . . . . . . . . . .

"All service ranks the same with God,



If now, as formerly he trod

Paradise, His presence fills



Our earth, each only as God wills

Can work - God's puppets best and worst,



Are we; there is no last or first."

It shows what he might have accomplished, had longer life been but



allowed him.

CHAPTER XVI - STEVENSON'S GLOOM



THE problem of Stevenson's gloom cannot be solved by any

commonplace cut-and-dried process. It will remain a problem only



unless (1) his original dreamytendency crossed, if not warped, by

the fatalistic Calvinism which was drummed into him by father,



mother, and nurse in his tender years, is taken fully into account;

then (2) the peculiar action on such a nature of the unsatisfying



and, on the whole, distracting effect of the bohemian and hail-

fellow-well-met sort of ideal to which he yielded, and which has to



be charged with much; and (3) the conflict in him of a keenly

social animus with a very strong egotistical effusiveness, fed by



fancy, and nourished by the enforced solitariness inevitable in the

case of one who, from early years up, suffered from painful, and



even crushing, disease.

His text and his sermon - which may be shortly summed in the



following sentence - be kind, for in kindness to others lies the

only true pleasure to be gained in life; be cheerful, even to the



point of egotistic self-satisfaction, for through cheerfulness only

is the flow of this incessant kindliness of thought and service



possible. He was not in harmony with the actual effect of much of

his creative work, though he illustrated this in his life, as few



men have done. He regarded it as the highest duty of life to give

pleasure to others; his art in his own idea thus became in an



unostentatious way consecrated, and while he would not have claimed

to be a seer, any more than he would have claimed to be a saint, as



he would have held in contempt a mere sybarite, most certainly a

vein of unblamable hedonism pervaded his whole philosophy of life.



Suffering constantly, he still was always kindly. He encouraged,

as Mr Gosse has said, this philosophy by every resource open to



him. In practical life, all who knew him declared that he was

brightness, naive fancy, and sunshine personified, and yet he could



not help always, somehow, infusing into his fiction a pronounced,

and sometimes almost fatal, element of gloom. Even in his own case



they were not pleasure-giving and failed thus in essence. Some

wise critic has said that no man can ever write well creatively of



that in which in his early youth he had no knowledge. Always

behind Stevenson's latest exercises lies the shadow of this as an






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