to declare that were men
perfect they would be isolated, if not idiotic, that we are united to
each other by our defects--that even physical beauty would be dead like
later Greek statues, were these not departures from the perfect lines.
The letter given by me at p. 28 transfigures in its light, some of his
work at that time.

And then what an opportunity, we deeply regret to say, Mr Hammerton
wholly missed, when he passed over without due explanation or commentary
that most significant pamphlet--the _Address to the Scottish Clergy_. If
Mr Hammerton had but duly and closely studied that and its bearings and
suggestions in many directions, then he would have written such a chapter
for true enlightenment and for interest as exactly his book--attractive
though it is in much--yet specially lacks. It is to be hoped that Mr
Sidney Colvin will not once more miss the chance which is thus still left
open to him to perfect his _Life of Stevenson_, and make it more
interpretive than anything yet published. If he does this, then, a
dreadful _lacuna_ in the _Edinburgh Edition_ will also be supplied.

Carefully reading over again Mr Arthur Symons' _Studies in Two
Literatures_--published some years ago--I have come across instances of
apparent contradiction which, so far as I can see, he does not critically
altogether reconcile, despite his ingenuity and great charm of style. One
relates to Thoreau, who, while still "sturdy" as Emerson says, "and like
an elm tree," as his sister Sophia says, showed exactly the same love of
nature and power of interpreting her as he did after in his later
comparatively short period of "invalidity," while Mr Symons says his view
of Nature absolutely was that of the invalid, classing him unqualifiedly
with Jefferies and Stevenson, as invalid. Thoreau's mark even in the
short later period of "invalidity" was complete and robust independence
and triumph over it--a thing which I have no doubt wholly captivated
Stevenson, as scarce anything else would have done, as a victory in the
exact _role_ he himself was most ambitious to fill. For did not he too
wrestle well with the "wolverine" he carried on his back--in this like
Addington Symonds and Alexander Pope? Surely I cannot be wrong here to
reinforce my statement by a passage from a letter written by Sophia
Thoreau to her good friend Daniel Ricketson, after her brother's death,
the more that R. L. Stevenson would have greatly exulted too in its
cheer