Here lies one who meant well, tried a little, failed much:—surely that may be his epitaph of which he need not be ashamed.

Stevenson’s line comes from an essay in which he reflects on human limitation, moral intention, and the disproportion between our aspirations and our actual achievements. Writing in the late Victorian period—when public life often prized respectability, productivity, and “success”—Stevenson repeatedly pushed back against harsh self-judgment and social measures of worth. The sentence is framed as a proposed epitaph: a deliberately modest summing-up of a life that did not “win,” yet retained good will and honest effort. It fits Stevenson’s broader preoccupation, sharpened by chronic illness and precarious health, with how to live bravely and kindly under conditions that make failure likely.

The epitaph offers a humane standard for evaluating a life: not by triumphs, but by intention and persistence. “Meant well” foregrounds ethical orientation; “tried a little” admits limited strength or opportunity; “failed much” accepts the commonness of defeat without self-contempt. The final clause—“need not be ashamed”—rejects the idea that failure is inherently disgraceful. Stevenson suggests that shame should attach less to imperfect outcomes than to malice, indifference, or refusal to attempt. The tone is wry and tender, proposing dignity in ordinary striving and a truthful, unheroic self-accounting that still preserves self-respect.