The Merry Men, and Other Tales and FablesStevenson, Robert Louis
History
The Merry Men, and Other Tales and Fables
Stevenson, Robert Louis
Boys -- Fiction; Great Britain -- History -- 19th century -- Fiction; Paranormal fiction; Treasure troves -- Fiction
And yet this would scarcely parallel the intensity of Will’s feeling
for the plain. If he could only go far enough out there, he felt as if
his eyesight would be purged and clarified, as if his hearing would
grow more delicate, and his very breath would come and go with luxury.
He was transplanted and withering where he was; he lay in a strange
country and was sick for home. Bit by bit, he pieced together broken
notions of the world below: of the river, ever moving and growing until
it sailed forth into the majestic ocean; of the cities, full of brisk
and beautiful people, playing fountains, bands of music and marble
palaces, and lighted up at night from end to end with artificial stars
of gold; of the great churches, wise universities, brave armies, and
untold money lying stored in vaults; of the high-flying vice that moved
in the sunshine, and the stealth and swiftness of midnight murder. I
have said he was sick as if for home: the figure halts. He was like
some one lying in twilit, formless preexistence, and stretching out his
hands lovingly towards many-coloured, many-sounding life. It was no
wonder he was unhappy, he would go and tell the fish: they were made
for their life, wished for no more than worms and running water, and a
hole below a falling bank; but he was differently designed, full of
desires and aspirations, itching at the fingers, lusting with the eyes,
whom the whole variegated world could not satisfy with aspects. The
true life, the true bright sunshine, lay far out upon the plain. And O!
to see this sunlight once before he died! to move with a jocund spirit
in a golden land! to hear the trained singers and sweet church bells,
and see the holiday gardens! “And O fish!” he would cry, “if you would
only turn your noses down stream, you could swim so easily into the
fabled waters and see the vast ships passing over your head like
clouds, and hear the great water-hills making music over you all day
long!” But the fish kept looking patiently in their own direction,
until Will hardly knew whether to laugh or cry.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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