The Works of Robert Louis Stevenson - Swanston Edition, Vol. 06Stevenson, Robert Louis
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The Works of Robert Louis Stevenson - Swanston Edition, Vol. 06
Stevenson, Robert Louis
English literature -- 19th century
"Sorry?" cried the Doctor. "Why, I find I have scarce begun your
education after all. Listen to me! Would you rather live in the old Gretz
or in the new, free from the alarms of war, with the green country at the
door, without noise, passports, the exactions of the soldiery, or the
jangle of the curfew-bell to send us off to bed by sundown?"
"I suppose I should prefer the new," replied the boy.
"Precisely," returned the Doctor; "so do I. And in the same way, I prefer
my present moderate fortune to my former wealth. Golden mediocrity!
cried the adorable ancients; and I subscribe to their enthusiasm. Have I
not good wine, good food, good air, the fields and the forest for my
walk, a house, an admirable wife, a boy whom I protest I cherish like a
son? Now, if I were still rich, I should indubitably make my residence in
Paris--you know Paris--Paris and Paradise are not convertible terms. This
pleasant noise of the wind streaming among leaves changed into the
grinding Babel of the street, the stupid glare of plaster substituted for
this quiet pattern of greens and greys, the nerves shattered, the
digestion falsified--picture the fall! Already you perceive the
consequences: the mind is stimulated, the heart steps to a different
measure, and the man is himself no longer. I have passionately studied
myself--the true business of philosophy. I know my character as the
musician knows the ventages of his flute. Should I return to Paris, I
should ruin myself gambling; nay, I go further--I should break the heart
of my Anastasie with infidelities."
This was too much for Jean-Marie. That a place should so transform the
most excellent of men transcended his belief. Paris, he protested, was
even an agreeable place of residence. "Nor when I lived in that city did
I feel much difference," he pleaded.
"What!" cried the Doctor. "Did you not steal when you were there?"
But the boy could never be brought to see that he had done anything wrong
when he stole. Nor, indeed, did the Doctor think he had; but that
gentleman was never very scrupulous when in want of a retort.
"And now," he concluded, "do you begin to understand? My only friends
were those who ruined me. Gretz has been my academy, my sanatorium, my
heaven of innocent pleasures. If millions are offered me, I wave them
back: _Retro, Sathanas!_--Evil one, begone! Fix your mind on my example;
despise riches, avoid the debasing influence of cities. Hygiene--hygiene
and mediocrity of fortune--these be your watchwords during life!"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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