ground is a bed of down; the tanned skin of our bodies is an
impenetrable harness to defend us; our nimble limbs submit to no
obstacle from iron bars, or trenches, or walls; our courage is not to be
twisted out of us by cords, or choked by gauze,[75] or quelled by the
rack.

[75] See note [73], p. 200.

"Between yes and no we make no difference when it suits our convenience
to confound them; we always pride ourselves more on being martyrs than
confessors. For us the beasts of burden are reared in the fields, and
pockets are filled in the cities. No eagle or other bird of prey pounces
more swiftly on its quarry than we upon opportunities that offer us
booty. And finally, we possess many qualities which promise us a happy
end; for we sing in prison, are silent on the rack, work by day, and by
night we thieve, or rather we take means to teach all men that they
should exempt themselves from the trouble of seeing where they put their
property. We are not distressed by the fear of losing our honour, or
kept awake by ambition to increase it. We attach ourselves to no
parties; we do not rise by day-light to attend levees and present
memorials, or to swell the trains of magnates, or to solicit favours.
Our gilded roofs and sumptuous palaces are these portable huts; our
Flemish pictures and landscapes are those which nature presents to our
eyes at every step in the rugged cliffs and snowy peaks, the spreading
meads and leafy groves. We are rustic astronomers, for as we sleep
almost always under the open sky, we can tell every hour by day or
night. We see how Aurora extinguishes and sweeps away the stars from
heaven, and how she comes forth with her companion the dawn, enlivening
the air, refreshing the water, and moistening the earth; and after her
appears the sun gilding the heights, as the poet sings, and making the
mountains smile. We are not afraid of being left chilly by his absence,
when his rays fall aslant upon us, or of being roasted when they blaze
down upon us perpendicularly. We turn the same countenance to sun and
frost, to dearth and plenty. In conclusion, we are people who live by
our industry and our wits, without troubling ourselves with the old
adage, 'The church, the sea, or the king's household.' We have all we
want, for we are content with what we have.

"All these things have I told you, generous youth, that you may not be
ignorant of the life to which you are come, and the manners and customs
you will