Lay Morals, and Other PapersStevenson, Robert Louis
Philosophy
Lay Morals, and Other Papers
Stevenson, Robert Louis
Essays; Short stories
At college he met other lads more diligent than himself, who followed the
plough in summer-time to pay their college fees in winter; and this
inequality struck him with some force. He was at that age of a
conversible temper, and insatiably curious in the aspects of life; and he
spent much of his time scraping acquaintance with all classes of man- and
woman-kind. In this way he came upon many depressed ambitions, and many
intelligences stunted for want of opportunity; and this also struck him.
He began to perceive that life was a handicap upon strange, wrong-sided
principles; and not, as he had been told, a fair and equal race. He
began to tremble that he himself had been unjustly favoured, when he saw
all the avenues of wealth, and power, and comfort closed against so many
of his superiors and equals, and held unwearyingly open before so idle,
so desultory, and so dissolute a being as himself. There sat a youth
beside him on the college benches, who had only one shirt to his back,
and, at intervals sufficiently far apart, must stay at home to have it
washed. It was my friend’s principle to stay away as often as he dared;
for I fear he was no friend to learning. But there was something that
came home to him sharply, in this fellow who had to give over study till
his shirt was washed, and the scores of others who had never an
opportunity at all. _If one of these could take his place_, he thought;
and the thought tore away a bandage from his eyes. He was eaten by the
shame of his discoveries, and despised himself as an unworthy favourite
and a creature of the back-stairs of Fortune. He could no longer see
without confusion one of these brave young fellows battling up-hill
against adversity. Had he not filched that fellow’s birthright? At best
was he not coldly profiting by the injustice of society, and greedily
devouring stolen goods? The money, indeed, belonged to his father, who
had worked, and thought, and given up his liberty to earn it; but by what
justice could the money belong to my friend, who had, as yet, done
nothing but help to squander it? A more sturdy honesty, joined to a more
even and impartial temperament, would have drawn from these
considerations a new force of industry, that this equivocal position
might be brought as swiftly as possible to an end, and some good services
to mankind justify the appropriation of expense. It was not so with my
friend, who was only unsettled and discouraged, and filled full of that
trumpeting anger with which young men regard injustices in the first
blush of youth; although in a few years they will tamely acquiesce in
their existence, and knowingly profit by their complications. Yet all
this while he suffered many indignant pangs. And once, when he put on
his boots, like any other unripe donkey, to run away from home, it was
his best consolation that he was now, at a single plunge, to free himself
from the responsibility of this wealth that was not his, and do battle
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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