robert louis stevenson-第20章
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time' meant for him our own time； and the grave and gay magic of Prince Florizel in dingy London or sunny France。 All this is but one of his provinces； however distinctive。 Besides； how he buttressed his romance with apparent truth！ Since Defoe； none had a better right to say： 'There was one thing I determined to do when I began this long story； and that was to tell out everything as it befell。'
〃I remember delighting in two fascinating stories of Paris in the time of Francois Villon； anonymously reprinted by a New York paper from a London magazine。 They had all the quality； all the distinction； of which I speak。 Shortly afterward I met Mr Stevenson； then in his twenty…ninth year； at a London club； where we chanced to be the only loungers in an upper room。 To my surprise he opened a conversation … you know there could be nothing more unexpected than that in London … and thereby I guessed that he was as much； if not as far； away from home as I was。 He asked many questions concerning 'the States'； in fact； this was but a few months before he took his steerage passage for our shores。 I was drawn to the young Scotsman at once。 He seemed more like a New… Englander of Holmes's Brahmin caste； who might have come from Harvard or Yale。 But as he grew animated I thought； as others have thought； and as one would suspect from his name； that he must have Scandinavian blood in his veins … that he was of the heroic； restless； strong and tender Viking strain； and certainly from that day his works and wanderings have not belied the surmise。 He told me that he was the author of that charming book of gipsying in the Cevennes which just then had gained for him some attentions from the literary set。 But if I had known that he had written those two stories of sixteenth…century Paris … as I learned afterwards when they reappeared in the NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS … I would not have bidden him good…bye as to an 'unfledged comrade；' but would have wished indeed to 'grapple him to my soul with hooks of steel。'
〃Another point is made clear as crystal by his life itself。 He had the instinct； and he had the courage； to make it the servant； and not the master； of the faculty within him。 I say he had the courage； but so potent was his birth…spell that doubtless he could not otherwise。 Nothing commonplace sufficed him。 A regulation stay…at…home life would have been fatal to his art。 The ancient mandate； 'Follow thy Genius；' was well obeyed。 Unshackled freedom of person and habit was a prerequisite； as an imaginary artist he felt … nature keeps her poets and story…tellers children to the last … he felt； if he ever reasoned it out； that he must gang his own gait； whether it seemed promising； or the reverse； to kith； kin； or alien。 So his wanderings were not only in the most natural but in the wisest consonance with his creative dreams。 Wherever he went； he found something essential for his use； breathed upon it； and returned it fourfold in beauty and worth。 The longing of the Norseman for the tropic； of the pine for the palm； took him to the South Seas。 There； too； strange secrets were at once revealed to him； and every island became an 'Isle of Voices。' Yes； an additional proof of Stevenson's artistic mission lay in his careless； careful； liberty of life； in that he was an artist no less than in his work。 He trusted to the impulse which possessed him … that which so many of us have conscientiously disobeyed and too late have found ourselves in reputable bondage to circumstances。
〃But those whom you are waiting to hear will speak more fully of all this … some of them with the interest of their personal remembrance … with the strength of their affection for the man beloved by young and old。 In the strange and sudden intimacy with an author's record which death makes sure； we realise how notable the list of Stevenson's works produced since 1878； more than a score of books … not fiction alone； but also essays； criticism； biography； drama； even history； and； as I need not remind you； that spontaneous poetry which comes only from a true poet。 None can have failed to observe that； having recreated the story of adventure； he seemed in his later fiction to interfuse a subtler purpose … the search for character； the analysis of mind and soul。 Just here his summons came。 Between the sunrise of one day and the sunset of the next he exchanged the forest study for the mountain grave。 There； as he had sung his own wish； he lies 'under the wide and starry sky。' If there was something of his own romance； so exquisitely capricious； in the life of Robert Louis Stevenson； so； also； the poetic conditions are satisfied in his death； and in the choice of his burial…place upon the top of Pala。 As for the splendour of that maturity upon which we counted； now never to be fulfilled on sea or land； I say … as once before； when the great New…England romancer passed in the stillness of the night：
〃'What though his work unfinished lies？ Half bent The rainbow's arch fades out in upper air； The shining cataract half…way down the height Breaks into mist； the haunting strain； that fell On listeners unaware； Ends incomplete； but through the starry night The ear still waits for what it did not tell。'〃
Dr Edward Eggleston finely sounded the personal note； and told of having met Stevenson at a hotel in New York。 Stevenson was ill when the landlord came to Dr Eggleston and asked him if he should like to meet him。 Continuing； he said：
〃He was flat on his back when I entered； but I think I never saw anybody grow well in so short a time。 It was a soul rather than a body that lay there； ablaze with spiritual fire； good will shining through everywhere。 He did not pay me any compliment about my work； and I didn't pay him any about his。 We did not burn any of the incense before each other which authors so often think it necessary to do； but we were friends instantly。 I am not given to speedy intimacies； but I could not help my heart going out to him。 It was a wonderfully invested soul； no hedges or fences across his fields； no concealment。 He was a romanticist； I was … well； I don't know exactly what。 But he let me into the springs of his romanticism then and there。
〃'You go in your boat every day？' he asked。 'You sail？ Oh！ to write a novel a man must take his life in his hands。 He must not live in the town。' And so he spoke； in his broad way； of course； according to the enthusiasm of the moment。
〃I can't sound any note of pathos here to…night。 Some lives are so brave and sweet and joyous and well…rounded； with such a completeness about them that death does not leave imperfection。 He never had the air of sitting up with his own reputation。 He let his books toss in the waves of criticism and make their ports if they deserve to。 He had no claptrap； no great cause； none of the disease of pruriency which came into fashion with Flaubert and Guy de Maupassant。 He simply told his story； with no condescension； taking the readers into his heart and his confidence。〃
CHAPTER XX … EGOTISTIC ELEMENT AND ITS EFFECTS
FROM these sources now traced out by us … his youthfulness of spirit； his mystical bias； and tendency to dream … symbolisms leading to disregard of common feelings … flows too often the indeterminateness of Stevenson's work； at the very points where for direct interest there should be decision。 In THE MASTER OF BALLANTRAE this leads him to try to bring the balances even as regards our interest in the two brothers； in so far justifying from one point of view what Mr Zangwill said in the quotation we have given； or； as Sir Leslie Stephen had it in his second series of the STUDIES OF A BIOGRAPHER：
〃The younger brother in THE MASTER OF BALLANTRAE； who is black… mailed by the utterly reprobate master； ought surely to be interesting instead of being simply sullen and dogged。 In the later adventures； we are invited to forgive him on the ground that his brain has been affected： but the impression upon me is that he is sacrificed throughout to the interests of the story ＇or more strictly for the working out of the problem as originally conceived by the author＇。 The curious exclusion of women is natural in the purely boyish stories； since to a boy woman is simply an incumbrance upon reasonable modes of life。 When in CATRIONA Stevenson introduces a love story； it is still unsatisfactory； because David Balfour is so much the undeveloped animal that his passion is clumsy； and his charm for the girl unintelligible。 I cannot feel； to say the truth； that in any of these stories I am really among living human beings with whom； apart from their adventures； I can feel any very lively affection or antipathy。〃
In the EBB…TIDE it is； in this respect； yet worse： the three heroes choke each other off all too literally。
In his excess of impartiality he tones down the points and lines that would give the attraction of true individuality to his characters； and instead； would fain have us contented with his liberal； and even over…sympathetic views of them and allowances for them。 But instead of thus furthering his object； he sacrifices the whole … and his story becomes； instead of a broad and faithful human record； really a curiosity of autobiographic perversion； and of overweening； if not extravagant egotism of the more refined； but yet over…obtrusive kind。
Mr Baildon thus hits the subjective tendency； out of which mainly this defect … a serious defect in view of interest … arises。
〃That we can none of us be sure to what crime we might not descend； if only our temptation were sufficiently acute； lies at the root of his fondness and toleration for wrong…doers （p。 74）。
Thus he practically declines to do for us what we are unwilling or unable to do for ourselves。 Interest in two characters in fiction can never； in this artificial way； and if they are real characters truly conceived； be made equal； nor can one element of claim be balanced against another； even at the beck of the greatest artist。 The common sentiment； as we have seen； resents it even as it resents lack of guidance elsewhere。 After all； the novelist is bound to give guidance： he is an authority in his own world； where he is an autocrat indeed； and can work out issues as he pleases； even as the Pope is an authority in the Roman Catholic world： he abdicates his functions when he declines to lead： we depend on him from the human point of view to guide us right； according to the heart； if not according to any conventional notion or opinion。 Stevenson's pause in individual presentation in the desire now to raise our sympathy for the one； and then for the other in THE MASTER OF BALLANTRAE； admits us too far into Stevenson's secret or trick of affected self…withdrawal in order to work his problem and to signify his theories； to the loss and utter confusion of his aims from the point of common dramatic and human interest。 It is the same in CATRIONA in much of the treatment of James Mohr or More； it is still more so in not a little of the treatment of WEIR OF HERMISTON and his son； though there； happily for him and for us；
