The Works of Robert Louis Stevenson - Swanston Edition, Vol. 01Stevenson, Robert Louis
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The Works of Robert Louis Stevenson - Swanston Edition, Vol. 01
Stevenson, Robert Louis
English literature -- 19th century
The villagers whom I saw seemed intelligent after a countrified fashion,
and were all plain and dignified in manner. As a Protestant myself, I
was well looked upon, and my acquaintance with history gained me
further respect. For we had something not unlike a religious
controversy at table, a gendarme and a merchant with whom I dined being
both strangers to the place, and Catholics. The young men of the house
stood round and supported me; and the whole discussion was tolerantly
conducted, and surprised a man brought up among the infinitesimal and
contentious differences of Scotland. The merchant, indeed, grew a little
warm, and was far less pleased than some others with my historical
acquirements. But the gendarme was mighty easy over it all.
"It's a bad idea for a man to change," said he; and the remark was
generally applauded.
That was not the opinion of the priest and soldier at Our Lady of the
Snows. But this is a different race; and perhaps the same
great-heartedness that upheld them to resist, now enables them to differ
in a kind spirit. For courage respects courage; but where a faith has
been trodden out, we may look for a mean and narrow population. The true
work of Bruce and Wallace was the union of the nations; not that they
should stand apart a while longer, skirmishing upon their borders; but
that, when the time came, they might unite with self-respect.
The merchant was much interested in my journey, and thought it dangerous
to sleep afield.
"There are the wolves," said he; "and then it is known you are an
Englishman. The English have always long purses, and it might very well
enter into some one's head to deal you an ill blow some night."
I told him I was not much afraid of such accidents; and at any rate
judged it unwise to dwell upon alarms or consider small perils in the
arrangement of life. Life itself, I submitted, was a far too risky
business as a whole to make each additional particular of danger worth
regard. "Something," said I, "might burst in your inside any day of the
week, and there would be an end of you, if you were locked in your room
with three turns of the key."
"_Cependant_," said he, "_coucher dehors_!"
"God," said I, "is everywhere."
"_Cependant, coucher dehors!_" he repeated, and his voice was eloquent
of terror.
He was the only person, in all my voyage, who saw anything hardy in so
simple a proceeding; although many considered it superfluous. Only one,
on the other hand, professed much delight in the idea; and that was my
Plymouth Brother, who cried out, when I told him I sometimes preferred
sleeping under the stars to a close and noisy alehouse, "Now I see that
you know the Lord!"
The merchant asked me for one of my cards as I was leaving, for he said
I should be something to talk of in the future, and desired me to make a
note of his request and reason; a desire with which I have thus
complied.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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