The Scarlet Letter
By: Nathaniel Hawthorne Modernised and edited by Jim McGuiggan (2004)
By: Nathaniel Hawthorne Modernised and edited by Jim McGuiggan (2004)
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The famous Scottish writer, Robert Louis Stevenson, died young after a lifetime of wrestling with chronic illness. G.K. Chesterton said of him that he never let the medicine bottle get into his writing. All in all, there was none of the perpetual whimpering with him, no ceaseless search for pity though he knew what it was to sorrow and would openly speak of his illness. One gentleman, who wasn’t acquainted with the writer, read one Stevenson’s optimistic and uplifting letters to a daily newspaper and remarked of RLS that he must have been a man who never endured a single day of illness. Fancy that. Since Stevenson wasn’t Jesus (and no one should be saddled with that impossible task nor despised because they aren’t able to bear it) he had his shortcomings but it is his cheerful courage that makes him such an attractive figure. Eaten up with TB and never without pain he saw life as a challenge without ever becoming too saccharine sweet and saintly. He was always eager to be happy but willing to play the man. Such women and men are a tonic to a vast multitude of poor sufferers and to those who don’t know how to enjoy the joy of life. This is a piece of one of his prayers.
We beseech Thee, Lord...Be patient still; suffer us yet awhile longer—with our broken purposes of good, with our idle endeavors against evil, suffer us awhile longer to endure (and if may be) help us to do better. Bless to us your extraordinary mercies; if the day come when these must be taken, brace us to play the man under affliction...Call us up with morning hearts—eager to labor—eager to be happy, if happiness shall be our portion—and if the day be marked for sorrow, strong to endure it."
