outwards, and generously nourished from the author's mind, the moment in
which he begins to execute is one of extreme perplexity and strain.
Artists of indifferent energy and an imperfect devotion to their own
ideal make this ungrateful effort once for all; and, having formed a
style, adhere to it through life. But those of a higher order cannot
rest content with a process which, as they continue to employ it, must
infallibly degenerate towards the academic and the cut-and-dried. Every
fresh war in which they embark is the signal for a fresh engagement of
the whole forces of their mind; and the changing views which accompany
the growth of their experience are marked by still more sweeping
alterations in the manner of their art. So that criticism loves to dwell
upon and distinguish the varying periods of a Raphael, a Shakespeare, or
a Beethoven."

In the case of Stevenson himself this process is especially manifest.
With a unique earnestness he sought from the first to adapt his manner
to his matter, and, since he grew with the years, each new tale concerns
itself with matter a little more humanly significant than its
predecessor, and is told in keeping therewith. The result is that such
stories as "The New Arabian Nights" series, fantastically conceived,
fantastically told, give place to "The Master of Ballentrae," "The Ebb
Tide," and "Weir of Hermiston," fictions worthy in every sense, the
last, indeed, an unfinished masterpiece. And with each new story the
author's style gains in dignity and restraint, in the process of
adaptation to the work. I mention Stevenson in this connection not
because he is greater than many others, nor his work finer, but because
its range was so wide that it called for many manners or styles. All
will prove a profitable study, for they are all Stevenson's and yet all
different. Writers who have been somewhat more narrow in choice of
matter have not been under so pressing a necessity to vary their manner
with each new work.

Possibly it is unwise to emphasize the matter of style at all when
writing for the apprentice author. Telling the story is usually task
enough, and style in general is a product rather than an item of
technique, therefore best sought indirectly. But even if the more
delicate tones and shadings possible in writing are beyond the reach of
all save the most skilled, preservation of the broader congruities of
manner is possible by the beginner, and must be achieved if his