hen　read　in　a　certain　mood；　and　this　all　the　more　　for　its　perfections；　just　as　Stevenson　would　have　said　it　of　a　　human　being　too　icily　perfect　whom　he　had　met。
  On　this　subject；　Mr　Baildon　has　some　words　so　decisive；　true；　and　　final；　that　I　cannot　refrain　from　here　quoting　them：
  〃From　sheer　incapacity　to　retain　it；　Prince　Otto　loses　the　regard；　　affection；　and　esteem　of　his　wife。　　He　goes　eavesdropping　among　the　　peasantry；　and　has　to　sit　silent　while　his　wife's　honour　is　　coarsely　impugned。　　After　that　I　hold　it　is　impossible　for　　Stevenson　to　rehabilitate　his　hero；　and；　with　all　his　brilliant　　effects；　he　fails。　。　。　。　I　cannot　help　feeling　a　regret　that　such　　fine　work　is　thrown　away　on　what　I　must　honestly　hold　to　be　an　　unworthy　subject。　　The　music　of　the　spheres　is　rather　too　sublime　　an　accompaniment　for　this　genteel　comedy　Princess。　　A　touch　of　　Offenbach　would　seem　more　appropriate。　　Then　even　in　comedy　the　　hero　must　not　be　the　butt。〃　　And　it　must　reluctantly　be　confessed　　that　in　Prince　Otto　you　see　in　excess　that　to　which　there　is　a　　tendency　in　almost　all　the　rest　…　it　is　to　make　up　for　lack　of　hold　　on　human　nature　itself；　by　resources　of　style　and　mere　external　　technical　art。
  CHAPTER　XXII　…　PERSONAL　CHEERFULNESS　AND　INVENTED　GLOOM
  NOW；　it　is　in　its　own　way　surely　a　very　remarkable　thing　that　　Stevenson；　who；　like　a　youth；　was　all　for　HEITERKEIT；　cheerfulness；　　taking　and　giving　of　pleasure；　for　relief；　change；　variety；　new　　impressions；　new　sensations；　should；　at　the　time　he　did；　have　　conceived　and　written　a　story　like　THE　MASTER　OF　BALLANTRAE　…　all　　in　a　grave；　grey；　sombre　tone；　not　aiming　even　generally　at　what　at　　least　indirectly　all　art　is　conceived　to　aim　at　…　the　giving　of　　pleasure：　　he　himself　decisively　said　that　it　〃lacked　all　　pleasurableness；　and　hence　was　imperfect　in　essence。〃　　A　very　　strange　utterance　in　face　of　the　oft…repeated　doctrine　of　the　　essays　that　the　one　aim　of　art；　as　of　true　life；　is　to　communicate　　pleasure；　to　cheer　and　to　elevate　and　improve；　and　in　face　of　two　　of　his　doctrines　that　life　itself　is　a　monitor　to　cheerfulness　and　　mirth。　　This　is　true：　　and　it　is　only　explainable　on　the　ground　　that　it　is　youth　alone　which　can　exult　in　its　power　of　accumulating　　shadows　and　dwelling　on　the　dark　side　…　it　is　youth　that　revels　in　　the　possible　as　a　set…off　to　its　brightness　and　irresponsibility：　　　it　is　youth　that　can　delight　in　its　own　excess　of　shade；　and　can　　even　dispense　with　sunshine　…　hugging　to　its　heart　the　memory　of　　its　own　often　self…created　distresses　and　conjuring　up　and；　with　　self…satisfaction；　brooding　over　the　pain　and　imagined　horrors　of　a　　lifetime。　　Maturity　and　age　kindly　bring　their　own　relief　…　　rendering　this　kind　of　ministry　to　itself　no　longer　desirable；　even　　were　it　possible。　　THE　MASTER　OF　BALLANTRAE　indeed　marks　the　　crisis。　　It　shows；　and　effectively　shows；　the　other　side　of　the　　adventure　passion　…　the　desire　of　escape　from　its　own　sombre　　introspections；　which　yet；　in　all　its　〃go〃　and　glow　and　glitter；　　tells　by　its　very　excess　of　their　tendency　to　pass　into　this　other　　and　apparently　opposite。　　But　here；　too；　there　is　nothing　single　or　　separate。　　The　device　of　piracy；　etc。；　at　close　of　BALLANTRAE；　is　　one　of　the　poorest　expedients　for　relief　in　all　fiction。
  Will　in　WILL　O'　THE　MILL　presents　another。　　When　at　the　last　moment　　he　decides　that　it　is　not　worth　while　to　get　married；　the　author's　　then　rather　incontinent　philosophy　…　which；　by…the…bye；　he　did　not　　himself　act　on　…　spoils　his　story　as　it　did　so　much　else。　　Such　an　　ending　to　such　a　romance　is　worse　even　than　any　blundering　such　as　　the　commonplace　inventor　could　be　guilty　of；　for　he　would　be　in　a　　low　sense　natural　if　he　were　but　commonplace。　　We　need　not　　therefore　be　surprised　to　find　Mr　Gwynn　thus　writing：
  〃The　love　scenes　in　WEIR　OF　HERMISTON　are　almost　unsurpassable；　but　　the　central　interest　of　the　story　lies　elsewhere　…　in　the　relations　　between　father　and　son。　　Whatever　the　cause；　the　fact　is　clear　that　　in　the　last　years　of　his　life　Stevenson　recognised　in　himself　an　　ability　to　treat　subjects　which　he　had　hitherto　avoided；　and　was　　thus　no　longer　under　the　necessity　of　detaching　fragments　from　　life。　　Before　this；　he　had　largely　confined　himself　to　the　　adventures　of　roving　men　where　women　had　made　no　entrance；　or；　if　　he　treated　of　a　settled　family　group；　the　result　was　what　we　see　in　　THE　MASTER　OF　BALLANTRAE。〃
  In　a　word；　between　this　work　and　WEIR　OF　HERMISTON　we　have　the　　passage　from　mere　youth　to　manhood；　with　its　wider；　calmer　views；　　and　its　patience；　inclusiveness；　and　mild；　genial　acceptance　of　　types　that　before　did　not　come；　and　could　not　by　any　effort　of　will　　be　brought；　within　range　or　made　to　adhere　consistently　with　what　　was　already　accepted　and　workable。　　He　was　less　the　egotist　now　and　　more　the　realist。　　He　was　not　so　prone　to　the　high　lights　in　which　　all　seems　overwrought；　exaggerated；　concerned　really　with　effects　　of　a　more　subdued　order；　if　still　the　theme　was　a　wee　out　of　　ordinary　nature。　　Enough　is　left　to　prove　that　Stevenson's　life…　long　devotion　to　his　art　anyway　was　on　the　point　of　being　rewarded　　by　such　a　success　as　he　had　always　dreamt　of：　　that　in　the　man's　　nature　there　was　power　to　conceive　scenes　of　a　tragic　beauty　and　　intensity　unsurpassed　in　our　prose　literature；　and　to　create　　characters　not　unworthy　of　his　greatest　predecessors。　　The　blind　　stroke　of　fate　had　nothing　to　say　to　the　lesson　of　his　life；　and　　though　we　deplore　that　he　never　completed　his　masterpieces；　we　may　　at　least　be　thankful　that　time　enough　was　given　him　to　prove　to　his　　fellow…craftsmen；　that　such　labour　for　the　sake　of　art　is　not　　without　art's　peculiar　reward　…　the　triumph　of　successful　　execution。
  CHAPTER　XXIII　…　EDINBURGH　REVIEWERS'　DICTA　INAPPLICABLE　TO　LATER　　WORK
  FROM　many　different　points　of　view　discerning　critics　have　　celebrated　the　autobiographic　vein　…　the　self…revealing　turn；　the　　self…portraiture；　the　quaint；　genial；　yet　really　child…like　　egotistic　and　even　dreamy　element　that　lies　like　an　amalgam；　behind　　all　Stevenson's　work。　　Some　have　even　said；　that　because　of　this；　　he　will　finally　live　by　his　essays　and　not　by　his　stories。　　That　is　　extreme；　and　is　not　critically　based　or　justified；　because；　however　　true　it　may　be　up　to　a　certain　point；　it　is　not　true　of　Stevenson's　　quite　latest　fictions　where　we　see　a　decided　breaking　through　of　　the　old　limits；　and　an　advance　upon　a　new　and　a　fresher　and　broader　　sphere　of　interest　and　character　altogether。　　But　these　ideas　set　　down　truly　enough　at　a　certain　date；　or　prior　to　a　certain　date；　　are　wrong　and　falsely　directed　in　view　of　Stevenson's　latest　work　　and　what　it　promised。　　For　instance；　what　a　discerning　and　able　　writer　in　the　EDINBURGH　REVIEW　of　July　1895　said　truly　then　was　in　　great　part　utterly　inapplicable　to　the　whole　of　the　work　of　the　　last　years；　for　in　it　there　was　grasp；　wide　and　deep；　of　new　　possibilities　…　promise　of　clear　insight；　discrimination；　and　　contrast　of　character；　as　well　as　firm　hold　of　new　and　great　human　　interest　under　which　the　egotistic　or　autobiographic　vein　was　　submerged　or　weakened。　　The　EDINBURGH　REVIEWER　wrote：
  〃There　was　irresistible　fascination　in　what　it　would　be　unfair　to　　characterise　as　egotism；　for　it　came　natural　to　him　to　talk　frankly　　and　easily　of　himself。　。　。　。　He　could　never　have　dreamed；　like　　Pepys；　of　locking　up　his　confidence　in　a　diary。　　From　first　to　　last；　in　inconsecutive　essays；　in　the　records　of　sentimental　　touring；　in　fiction　and　in　verse；　he　has　embodied　the　outer　and　the　　inner　autobiography。　　He　discourses　…　he　prattles　…　he　almost　　babbles　about　himself。　　He　seems　to　have　taken　minute　and　habitual　　introspection　for　the　chief　study　in　his　analysis　of　human　nature；　　as　a　subject　which　was　immediately　in　his　reach；　and　would　most　　surely　serve　his　purpose。　　We　suspect　much　of　the　success　of　his　　novels　was　due　to　the　fact　that　as　he　seized　for　a　substructure　on　　the　scenery　and　situations　which　had　impressed　him　forcibly；　so　in　　the　characters　of　the　most　different　types；　there　was　always　more　　or　less　of　self…portraiture。　　The　subtle　touch；　eminently　and　　unmistakably　realistic；　gave　life　to　what　might　otherwise　have　　seemed　a　lay…figure。　。　。　。　He　hesitated　again　and　again　as　to　his　　destination；　and　under　mistakes；　advice　of　friends；　doubted　his　　chances；　as　a　story…writer；　even　after　TREASURE　ISLAND　had　enjoyed　　its　special　success。　。　。　。　We　venture　to　think　that；　with　his　love　　of　intellectual　self…indulgence；　had　he　found　novel…writing　really　　enjoyable；　he　would　never　have　doubted　at　all。　　But　there　comes　in　　the　difference　between　him　and　Scott；　whom　he　condemns　for　the　　slovenliness　of　hasty　workmanship。　　Scott；　in　his　best　days；　sat　　down　to　his　desk　and　let　the　swift　pen　take　its　course　in　　inspiration　that　seemed　to　come　without　an　effort。　　Even　when　　racked　with　pains；　and　groaning　in　agony；　the　intellectual　　machinery　was　still　driven　at　a　high　pressure　by　something　that　　resembled　an　irrepressible　instinct。　　Stevenson　can　have　had　little　　or　nothing　of　that　inspiriting　afflatus。　　He　did　his　painstaking　　work　conscientiously；　thoughtfully；　he　erased；　he　revised；　and　he　　was