Edinburgh: Picturesque NotesStevenson, Robert Louis
General
Edinburgh: Picturesque Notes
Stevenson, Robert Louis
Edinburgh (Scotland) -- Description and travel
It is as much a matter of course to decry the New Town as to exalt the
Old; and the most celebrated authorities have picked out this quarter as
the very emblem of what is condemnable in architecture. Much may be
said, much indeed has been said, upon the text; but to the
unsophisticated, who call anything pleasing if it only pleases them, the
New Town of Edinburgh seems, in itself, not only gay and airy, but highly
picturesque. An old skipper, invincibly ignorant of all theories of the
sublime and beautiful, once propounded as his most radiant notion for
Paradise: ‘The new town of Edinburgh, with the wind a matter of a point
free.’ He has now gone to that sphere where all good tars are promised
pleasant weather in the song, and perhaps his thoughts fly somewhat
higher. But there are bright and temperate days—with soft air coming
from the inland hills, military music sounding bravely from the hollow of
the gardens, the flags all waving on the palaces of Princes Street—when I
have seen the town through a sort of glory, and shaken hands in sentiment
with the old sailor. And indeed, for a man who has been much tumbled
round Orcadian skerries, what scene could be more agreeable to witness?
On such a day, the valley wears a surprising air of festival. It seems
(I do not know how else to put my meaning) as if it were a trifle too
good to be true. It is what Paris ought to be. It has the scenic
quality that would best set off a life of unthinking, open-air diversion.
It was meant by nature for the realisation of the society of comic
operas. And you can imagine, if the climate were but towardly, how all
the world and his wife would flock into these gardens in the cool of the
evening, to hear cheerful music, to sip pleasant drinks, to see the moon
rise from behind Arthur’s Seat and shine upon the spires and monuments
and the green tree-tops in the valley. Alas! and the next morning the
rain is splashing on the windows, and the passengers flee along Princes
Street before the galloping squalls.
[Picture: The Royal Institution]
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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