THE YELLOW PAINT
by Robert Louis Stevenson
In a certain city, there lived a physician who
sold yellow paint. This was of so singular a
virtue that whoso was bedaubed with it from
head to heel was set free from the dangers of
life, and the bondage of sin, and the fear of
death forever. So the physician said in his
prospectus; and so said all the citizens in
the city; and there was nothing more urgent
in men's hearts than to be properly painted
themselves, and nothing they took more delight
in than to see others painted. There was in
the same city a young man of a very good family
but of a somewhat reckless life; who had reached
the age of manhood, and would have nothing to
say to the paint: "To-morrow was soon enough,"
said he; and when the morrow came he would
still put it off. So he might have continued
to do until his death; only, he had a friend
of about his own age and much of his own manners;
and this youth, taking a walk in the public
street, with not one fleck of paint upon his
body, was suddenly run down by a water-cart
and cut off in the heyday of his nakedness.
This shook the other to the soul; so that I
never beheld a man more earnest to be painted;
and on the very same evening, in the presence
of all his family, to appropriate music, and
himself weeping aloud, he received three
complete coats and a touch of varnish on the
top. The physician (who was himself affected
even to tears) protested he had never done
a job so thorough.
Some two months afterwards, the young man
was carried on a stretcher to the physician's
house.
"What is the meaning of this?" he cried, as
soon as the door was opened. "I was to be set
free from all the dangers of life; and here
have I been run down by that self-same
water-cart, and my leg is broken."
"Dear me!" said the physician. "This is very
sad. But I perceive I must explain to you
the action of my paint. A broken bone is a
mighty small affair at the worst of it; and
it belongs to a class of accidents to which
my paint is quite inapplicable. Sin, my dear
young friend, sin is the sole calamity that
a wise man should apprehend; it is against
sin that I have fitted you out; and when you
come to be tempted, you will give me news
of my paint!"
"Oh!" said the young man, "I did not understand
that, and it seems rather disappointing. But
I have no doubt all is for the best; and in
the meanwhile, I shall be obliged to you if
you will set my leg."
"That is none of my business," said the
physician; "but if your bearers will carry
you round the corner to the surgeon's, I
feel sure he will afford relief."
Some three years later, the young man came
running to the physician's house in a great
perturbation. "What is the meaning of this?"
he cried. "Here was I to be set free from
the bondage of sin; and I have just committed
forgery, arson and murder."
"Dear me," said the physician. "This is
very serious. Off with your clothes at once."
And as soon as the young man had stripped,
he examined him from head to foot. "No,"
he cried with great relief, "there is not a
flake broken. Cheer up, my young friend,
your paint is as good as new."
"Good God!" cried the young man, "and what
then can be the use of it?"
"Why," said the physician, "I perceive I
must explain to you the nature of the action
of my paint. It does not exactly prevent
sin; it extenuates instead the painful
consequences. It is not so much for this
world, as for the next; it is not against
life; in short, it is against death that
I have fitted you out. And when you come
to die, you will give me news of my paint."
"Oh!" cried the young man, "I had not
understood that, and it seems a little
disappointing. But, there is no doubt all
is for the best: and in the meanwhile, I
shall be obliged if you will help me to
undo the evil I have brought on innocent
persons."
"That is none of my business," said the
physician; "but if you will go round the
corner to the police office, I feel sure
it will afford you relief to give yourself
up."
Six weeks later, the physician was called
to the town gaol.
"What is the meaning of this?" cried the
young man. "Here am I literally crusted
with your paint; and I have broken my leg,
and committed all the crimes in the calendar,
and must be hanged to-morrow; and am in
the meanwhile in a fear so extreme that
I lack words to picture it."
"Dear me," said the physician. "This is
really amazing. Well, well; perhaps, if
you had not been painted, you would have
been more frightened still."
~~~~~~~ THE END ~~~~~~~
|
