David Balfour: Being Memoirs Of His Adventures At Home And Abroad, The Second Part: In Which Are Set Forth His Misfortunes Anent The Appin Murder; His Troubles With Lord Advocate Grant; Captivity On The Bass Rock; Journey Into Holland And France; And Singular Relations With James More Drummond Or Macgregor, A Son Of The Notorious Rob Roy, And His Daughter CatrionaStevenson, Robert Louis
History
David Balfour: Being Memoirs Of His Adventures At Home And Abroad, The Second Part: In Which Are Set Forth His Misfortunes Anent The Appin Murder; His Troubles With Lord Advocate Grant; Captivity On The Bass Rock; Journey Into Holland And France; And Singular Relations With James More Drummond Or Macgregor, A Son Of The Notorious Rob Roy, And His Daughter Catriona
Stevenson, Robert Louis
Historical fiction; Scotland -- History -- 18th century -- Fiction
The next morning, I was no sooner awake in my new lodging than I was up
and into my new clothes; and no sooner the breakfast swallowed, than I
was forth on my adventures. Alan, I could hope, was fended for; James
was like to be a more difficult affair, and I could not but think that
enterprise might cost me dear, even as everybody said to whom I had
opened my opinion. It seemed I was come to the top of the mountain only
to cast myself down; that I had clambered up, through so many and hard
trials, to be rich, to be recognised, to wear city clothes and a sword
to my side, all to commit mere suicide at the last end of it, and the
worst kind of suicide besides, which is to get hanged at the King's
charges.
What was I doing it for? I asked, as I went down the High Street and out
north by Leith Wynd. First I said it was to save James Stewart, and no
doubt the memory of his distress, and his wife's cries, and a word or so
I had let drop on that occasion worked upon me strongly. At the same
time I reflected that it was (or ought to be) the most indifferent
matter to my father's son, whether James died in his bed or from a
scaffold. He was Alan's cousin, to be sure; but so far as regarded Alan,
the best thing would be to lie low, and let the King, and his Grace of
Argyll, and the corbie crows, pick the bones of his kinsman their own
way. Nor could I forget that, while we were all in the pot together,
James had shown no such particular anxiety whether for Alan or me.
Next it came upon me I was acting for the sake of justice: and I thought
that a fine word, and reasoned it out that (since we dwelt in polities,
at some discomfort to each one of us) the main thing of all must still
be justice, and the death of any innocent man a wound upon the whole
community. Next, again, it was the Accuser of the Brethren that gave me
a turn of his argument; bid me think shame for pretending myself
concerned in these high matters, and told me I was but a prating vain
child, who had spoken big words to Rankeillor and to Stewart, and held
myself bound upon my vanity to make good that boastfulness. Nay, and he
hit me with the other end of the stick; for he accused me of a kind of
artful cowardice, going about at the expense of a little risk to
purchase greater safety. No doubt, until I had declared and cleared
myself, I might any day encounter Mungo Campbell or the sheriff's
officer, and be recognised, and dragged into the Appin murder by the
heels; and, no doubt, in case I could manage my declaration with
success, I should breathe more free for ever after. But when I looked
this argument full in the face I could see nothing to be ashamed of. As
for the rest, "Here are the two roads," I thought, "and both go to the
same place. It's unjust that James should hang if I can save him; and it
would be ridiculous in me to have talked so much and then do nothing.
It's lucky for James of the Glens that I have boasted beforehand; and
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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