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Voyage avec un âne dans les Cévennes
The wild Cevennes region of France forms the backdrop for the pioneering travelogue Travels with a Donkey, written by a young Robert Louis Stevenson. Ever hopeful of encountering the adventure he yearned for and raising much needed finance at the start of his writing career, Stevenson embarked on the 120-mile, 12-day trek and recorded his experiences in this journal. His only companion for the trip was a predictably stubborn donkey called Modestine. Travels with a Donkey gives the reader a rare glimpse of the character of the author, and the journalistic and often comical style of writing is in refreshing contrast to Stevenson's more famous works.
192 pages, Mass Market Paperback
First published January 1, 1879
314 people are currently reading
3582 people want to read
About the author
Robert Louis Stevenson
6,916 books6,961 followersRobert Louis Balfour Stevenson was a Scottish novelist, poet, and travel writer, and a leading representative of English literature. He was greatly admired by many authors, including Jorge Luis Borges, Ernest Hemingway, Rudyard Kipling and Vladimir Nabokov.
Most modernist writers dismissed him, however, because he was popular and did not write within their narrow definition of literature. It is only recently that critics have begun to look beyond Stevenson's popularity and allow him a place in the Western canon.
Most modernist writers dismissed him, however, because he was popular and did not write within their narrow definition of literature. It is only recently that critics have begun to look beyond Stevenson's popularity and allow him a place in the Western canon.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 392 reviews
February 23, 2018
I had this book on my shelves for one or two years. Few days ago, after finishing Walden by Thoreau, I picked it up… just because it was small ! And what an interesting reading after Walden :
Two men living for a certain time in the nature. There are similar ways of living their adventures, similar thoughts about nature, food, Men, society and philosophy. But also so many differencies between Thoreau and Stevenson. And Stevenson is much more my kind!
First he seems, from the first pages, totally franck: he tells us about his troubles, his mistakes, his faults, as well as his joys and the pleasure he takes for this travel as a young and enthousiastic man; a tiny twelve days travel, but after which, definitively, nothing will ever be the same for Stevenson.
Why the title Travel with a Donkey in the Cevennes ? Because Modestine, the female donkey is as important as Stevenson in this travel. Stevenson, like a school teacher would have done, tells us about the Cévennes which were the site of a Protestant rebellion around 1702, severely suppressed by Catholic French king Louis XIV. The Protestant insurgents were known as the Camisards. Stevenson was Protestant by upbringing, and a non-believer by philosophy. Stevenson was well-versed in the history and evokes scenes from the rebellion as he passes through the area of the rebellion during the final days of his trek. He planned his trek, knows each day where he has to go and had calculated how many hours it should take him to reach a lake he would like to see before the night comes. But…
But Modestine the donkey doesn’t care about roads, time or history. Modestine is stubborn, pretty, fragile, whimsical, loving, submissive, curious about a thistle bunch, a farmyard or a small conversation with a donkey crossed on the way.
Stevenson will be angry about her, sometimes very bad and finally resigned, because, thanks to Modestine, he’ll understand that the important thing in his travel, like in all travels, wasn’t to go somewhere, but to walk.
A short book with beautiful thoughts about the Beauty of earth, about how men can live together even if some are Catholics and some others are Protestants.
Stevenson, the scholar Protestant male aware of the time which passes, and Modestine, descendant from the donkey who carried the catholic Blessed Virgin Mary, a couple sometimes funny, more often sad because of the bad behaviour of Stevenson is to be read.
And like in a good lovestory, Stevenson regrets his bad thoughts and facts towards Modestine and will understand he loved her once gone away.
Two men living for a certain time in the nature. There are similar ways of living their adventures, similar thoughts about nature, food, Men, society and philosophy. But also so many differencies between Thoreau and Stevenson. And Stevenson is much more my kind!
First he seems, from the first pages, totally franck: he tells us about his troubles, his mistakes, his faults, as well as his joys and the pleasure he takes for this travel as a young and enthousiastic man; a tiny twelve days travel, but after which, definitively, nothing will ever be the same for Stevenson.
Why the title Travel with a Donkey in the Cevennes ? Because Modestine, the female donkey is as important as Stevenson in this travel. Stevenson, like a school teacher would have done, tells us about the Cévennes which were the site of a Protestant rebellion around 1702, severely suppressed by Catholic French king Louis XIV. The Protestant insurgents were known as the Camisards. Stevenson was Protestant by upbringing, and a non-believer by philosophy. Stevenson was well-versed in the history and evokes scenes from the rebellion as he passes through the area of the rebellion during the final days of his trek. He planned his trek, knows each day where he has to go and had calculated how many hours it should take him to reach a lake he would like to see before the night comes. But…
But Modestine the donkey doesn’t care about roads, time or history. Modestine is stubborn, pretty, fragile, whimsical, loving, submissive, curious about a thistle bunch, a farmyard or a small conversation with a donkey crossed on the way.
Stevenson will be angry about her, sometimes very bad and finally resigned, because, thanks to Modestine, he’ll understand that the important thing in his travel, like in all travels, wasn’t to go somewhere, but to walk.
A short book with beautiful thoughts about the Beauty of earth, about how men can live together even if some are Catholics and some others are Protestants.
Stevenson, the scholar Protestant male aware of the time which passes, and Modestine, descendant from the donkey who carried the catholic Blessed Virgin Mary, a couple sometimes funny, more often sad because of the bad behaviour of Stevenson is to be read.
And like in a good lovestory, Stevenson regrets his bad thoughts and facts towards Modestine and will understand he loved her once gone away.
November 25, 2025
Robert Louis Stevenson beat Bill Bryson to the punch!
If Bill Bryson and Paul Theroux had lived in the nineteenth century and collaborated on a 12 day hiking travelogue of the mountainous Cévennes region in south central France, the result might have resembled Robert Louis Stevenson's TRAVELS WITH A DONKEY. Stevenson's hilarious account of his laborious travails with his relentlessly stubborn and self-willed but completely lovable donkey, Modestine, is both laughable and utterly charming. His recounting of the preparation of his equipment, most notably his sleeping bag, in preparation for that 12 day 120 mile trek is absolutely fascinating, particularly for a fan of lightweight wilderness camping in all four seasons. His mellifluous and detailed description of the rugged and often barren local topography is clear and concise and his narratives of the history and the sociology of the region that he has chosen for his long distance walk are meshed absolutely seamlessly with the anecdotes of his interactions with the locals along the route. Highly recommended for readers that enjoy literature in the travel genre.
Paul Weiss
If Bill Bryson and Paul Theroux had lived in the nineteenth century and collaborated on a 12 day hiking travelogue of the mountainous Cévennes region in south central France, the result might have resembled Robert Louis Stevenson's TRAVELS WITH A DONKEY. Stevenson's hilarious account of his laborious travails with his relentlessly stubborn and self-willed but completely lovable donkey, Modestine, is both laughable and utterly charming. His recounting of the preparation of his equipment, most notably his sleeping bag, in preparation for that 12 day 120 mile trek is absolutely fascinating, particularly for a fan of lightweight wilderness camping in all four seasons. His mellifluous and detailed description of the rugged and often barren local topography is clear and concise and his narratives of the history and the sociology of the region that he has chosen for his long distance walk are meshed absolutely seamlessly with the anecdotes of his interactions with the locals along the route. Highly recommended for readers that enjoy literature in the travel genre.
Paul Weiss
May 3, 2021
TRAVELS WITH MODESTINE
The literary trip to the Cévennes in France with Robert Louis Stevenson was a nightmare. I finished the book last evening and hoped it would turn out to be just a bad dream but nope, it still exists.
What I expected was a hilarious travelogue which inspired John Steinbeck to write his Travels with Charley: In Search of America . What I got was a disturbing, weird book I would love to forget as soon as only possible. Why? The foundation of Travels with a Donkey in the Cévennes (1879) are three things which I hate, both in literature and life: animal cruelty, aggressive religiousness and mysogynism in neon colours.
The plethora of scenes with Stevenson beating and pricking his donkey, Modestine, a diminutive she-ass, not much bigger than a dog, the colour of a mouse, with a kindly eye and a determined under-jaw, was revolting. If they were intended as a source of comicality, they did not work for me. At first, Stevenson feels awkward about abusing the poor animal, then it becomes a routine:
I am ashamed to say, struck the poor sinner twice across the face. It was pitiful to see her lift her head with shut eyes, as if waiting for another blow.
My arm ached like toothache from perpetual beating.
Thither, with infinite trouble, I goaded and kicked the reluctant Modestine, and there I hastened to unload her.
I must instantly maltreat this uncomplaining animal. The sound of my own blows sickened me.
Just a few examples. To my mind, there is nothing funny in these passages. It does not help much to realize that Stevenson is disgusted with his own cruelty - he continues anyway. His sadness at the end, when he sold Ernestine, did not impress me much. In my opinion, the tear he shed was of a crocodile type. I am fully aware that the year was 1879 and we should not apply our standards but nonetheless, I felt awful.
Marcus Prime
Another issue I had with this book: I detest the type of religiousness Robert Louis Stevenson displays almost all the time: obsessive, ostentatious and obtrusive. He is hooked on the conflict between Protestants and Catholics. The Cévennes was the site of a Protestant rebellion around 1702 so it was an ideal place to reflect on that but he seems to be infatuated with the topic. There is a scene when he meets a French villager and instead of saying good morning he point-blank fires a question: are you Protestant or Catholic? I can imagine the impression he made on the locals. No wonder some of them escaped or did not want to talk to him at all. It did not weaken his self-esteem though: I did not know I was so good a preacher.
There are some vague allusions to a recent disaster in the author’s love life: How the world gives and takes away, and brings sweethearts near only to separate them again into distant and strange lands. I did a little investigation and it turned out that he was recovering from an affair with Frances "Fanny" Matilda Van de Grift Osbourne, finished abruptly by her reunion with her husband. Later she became Stevenson's wife but for the time being he thought everything was over and his solo hiking trip was planned as therapy. Apparently, it turned out ineffective: Stevenson’s passive-aggressive misogynism is evident. There are some hints, also intended as jokes, that the donkey’s complex personality is a consequence of her sex. Besides, just look at the way he describes a French woman:
And Clarisse? What shall I say of Clarisse? She waited the table with a heavy placable nonchalance, like a performing cow.
…or two little girls:
they were a pair of impudent sly sluts, with not a thought but mischief.
...or the way he sums up a conversation with a female interlocutor:
As for you, mademoiselle,' said I, 'you are a farceuse'.
Les Cévennes by Jean-Jacques Chambry.
In Written Lives Javier Marías discusses Stevenson’s chivalry – well, as it seems, he did not express it in his words. Beating Modestine was a creepy self-help technique to deal with sad memories: Once, when I looked at her, she had a faint resemblance to a lady of my acquaintance who formerly loaded me with kindness.
Besides, Stevenson hates children:
I approached a great oak which grew in the meadow, hard by the river's brink; when to my disgust the voices of children fell upon my ear.
…and dogs:
the sharp cruel note of a dog's bark is in itself a keen annoyance; and to a tramp like myself, he represents the sedentary and respectable world in its most hostile form.
Actually, the list of things that he does not hate is not very long. Add to that his know-it-all air of superiority and you will get the picture.
Stevenson’s style and some observations prove that he was a talented writer. I will have to dwell on his connections with Poland: he mentions my country twice, giving an accurate opinion on the political situation. Besides, I enjoyed his descriptions of the picturesque Cévennes and their scenery in early autumn and his general thoughts on travelling. The rest was really hard to swallow though. I respectfully disagree with Junius, the character of Steinbeck's The Pastures of Heaven , who read Travels with a Donkey in the Cévennes many times and called it nearly the finest thing in English.
The Tamargue from La Souche, S. Baring-Gould. From A Book of the Cevennes, 1907.
The literary trip to the Cévennes in France with Robert Louis Stevenson was a nightmare. I finished the book last evening and hoped it would turn out to be just a bad dream but nope, it still exists.
What I expected was a hilarious travelogue which inspired John Steinbeck to write his Travels with Charley: In Search of America . What I got was a disturbing, weird book I would love to forget as soon as only possible. Why? The foundation of Travels with a Donkey in the Cévennes (1879) are three things which I hate, both in literature and life: animal cruelty, aggressive religiousness and mysogynism in neon colours.
The plethora of scenes with Stevenson beating and pricking his donkey, Modestine, a diminutive she-ass, not much bigger than a dog, the colour of a mouse, with a kindly eye and a determined under-jaw, was revolting. If they were intended as a source of comicality, they did not work for me. At first, Stevenson feels awkward about abusing the poor animal, then it becomes a routine:
I am ashamed to say, struck the poor sinner twice across the face. It was pitiful to see her lift her head with shut eyes, as if waiting for another blow.
My arm ached like toothache from perpetual beating.
Thither, with infinite trouble, I goaded and kicked the reluctant Modestine, and there I hastened to unload her.
I must instantly maltreat this uncomplaining animal. The sound of my own blows sickened me.
Just a few examples. To my mind, there is nothing funny in these passages. It does not help much to realize that Stevenson is disgusted with his own cruelty - he continues anyway. His sadness at the end, when he sold Ernestine, did not impress me much. In my opinion, the tear he shed was of a crocodile type. I am fully aware that the year was 1879 and we should not apply our standards but nonetheless, I felt awful.
Marcus Prime
Another issue I had with this book: I detest the type of religiousness Robert Louis Stevenson displays almost all the time: obsessive, ostentatious and obtrusive. He is hooked on the conflict between Protestants and Catholics. The Cévennes was the site of a Protestant rebellion around 1702 so it was an ideal place to reflect on that but he seems to be infatuated with the topic. There is a scene when he meets a French villager and instead of saying good morning he point-blank fires a question: are you Protestant or Catholic? I can imagine the impression he made on the locals. No wonder some of them escaped or did not want to talk to him at all. It did not weaken his self-esteem though: I did not know I was so good a preacher.
There are some vague allusions to a recent disaster in the author’s love life: How the world gives and takes away, and brings sweethearts near only to separate them again into distant and strange lands. I did a little investigation and it turned out that he was recovering from an affair with Frances "Fanny" Matilda Van de Grift Osbourne, finished abruptly by her reunion with her husband. Later she became Stevenson's wife but for the time being he thought everything was over and his solo hiking trip was planned as therapy. Apparently, it turned out ineffective: Stevenson’s passive-aggressive misogynism is evident. There are some hints, also intended as jokes, that the donkey’s complex personality is a consequence of her sex. Besides, just look at the way he describes a French woman:
And Clarisse? What shall I say of Clarisse? She waited the table with a heavy placable nonchalance, like a performing cow.
…or two little girls:
they were a pair of impudent sly sluts, with not a thought but mischief.
...or the way he sums up a conversation with a female interlocutor:
As for you, mademoiselle,' said I, 'you are a farceuse'.
Les Cévennes by Jean-Jacques Chambry.
In Written Lives Javier Marías discusses Stevenson’s chivalry – well, as it seems, he did not express it in his words. Beating Modestine was a creepy self-help technique to deal with sad memories: Once, when I looked at her, she had a faint resemblance to a lady of my acquaintance who formerly loaded me with kindness.
Besides, Stevenson hates children:
I approached a great oak which grew in the meadow, hard by the river's brink; when to my disgust the voices of children fell upon my ear.
…and dogs:
the sharp cruel note of a dog's bark is in itself a keen annoyance; and to a tramp like myself, he represents the sedentary and respectable world in its most hostile form.
Actually, the list of things that he does not hate is not very long. Add to that his know-it-all air of superiority and you will get the picture.
Stevenson’s style and some observations prove that he was a talented writer. I will have to dwell on his connections with Poland: he mentions my country twice, giving an accurate opinion on the political situation. Besides, I enjoyed his descriptions of the picturesque Cévennes and their scenery in early autumn and his general thoughts on travelling. The rest was really hard to swallow though. I respectfully disagree with Junius, the character of Steinbeck's The Pastures of Heaven , who read Travels with a Donkey in the Cévennes many times and called it nearly the finest thing in English.
The Tamargue from La Souche, S. Baring-Gould. From A Book of the Cevennes, 1907.
Read
September 15, 2025As Robert Louis Stevenson travels with a donkey through the Cevennes, he reflects on the suppression of Protestantism in the region at the end of the seventeenth century. The book would have been a nicer read if he had been pleasant to the donkey, but alas he believed in applying the stick rather than in offering the carrot, just as much as Louis XIV did to the Huguenots.
Second Review
Introduction
Recently, on holiday in Nimes, the bookshops were full - ok, not full, but certainly well stocked - with copies of Stevenson's Travels with a Donkey , including the inevitable graphic novel adaptation, for in France it seems that pretty much anything which can be written gets turned in to a BD sooner or later. Next to them were books about the Camisards, Protestants from the Cevannes who took up arms to resist enforced Catholicisation in the reign of Louis XIV - Stevenson gives over alot of the last third of his book to them. The guidebook said that there were still plenty of Protestants in Nimes. I did see at least three gangs of Jehovah's Witnesses waiting in strategic locations, but that was my only observation about religion in the city.
Stevenson however had sharper eyes than me, because he notes the religion of almost everybody thst he meets in this book. Perhaps times have changed, but I don't think anybody has ever told me their religious observance; then again I have never walked through the Cevennes with a donkey, perhaps it the custom there.
Stevenson on his journey did not go to Nimes , but he finished his journey in the north of the Prefecture, which was good enough for the bookshops of Nimes. And this encouraged me to pick up the book again.
Proper bit
This time I read it in a volume called the travels of Robert Louis Stevenson, as a rule I don't curse Goodreads librarians because I am one myself, and even I find sawing through the branch that I'm sitting on a bit silly, but someone combined that book with Treasure Island which features no donkeys. Together there are 11,000 books bundled together. I don't know if trying to find the copy (ies) of "The Travels" amongst those of Treasure Island is daunting or stupid. The other pieces in the volume cover (most of?) Stevenson's travels in the USA and almost all of those pieces were published before his more famous works like Treasure Island, Kidnapped or Jekyll and Hyde . Stevenson had published a piece on the Scottish Covenanters, maybe he had an idea in mind to write about other upstanding Protestants which led him to the Cevannes. Anyway he walked about 25 km a day for twelve days from north to south, crossing the headwaters of the Loire and Gironde, among other rivers whose names I forget, with Modestine the Donkey carrying his equipment. He did this in October and got lost a few times on the way. There is now an official trail that follows his route, presumably without the detours.
For me the account fell roughly into three parts. Firstly, struggles with the donkey. The first third has almost all the scenes of Stevenson beating his donkey in different ways to get it moving faster and in the direction that he prefers to go. He details how hard it was hitting and picking the donkey, how he sweated, and his arm ached. At the end of the journey it turns out that Modestine's legs are quite badly injured (which was not where he was beating her).
The central section is dominated by his stay at the Trappist monastery of "Our Lady of the Snows". This he quite enjoys, the Trappists are quite accommodating of this Scottish Protestant turned atheist though an ex-military man and a Priest having a day off from his parish do their best to put the fear of hellfire into Stevenson.
In the final section Stevenson arrives further south and finds the landscapes and people more attractive, possibly this is due to the climate, or maybe to the spirit of Protestantism.
The introduction points out that he compares landscapes and people throughout to Scotland, which is true, but not a major theme. It also observes that Bruce Chatwin voiced his disapproval of this travel account. I mention this because Stevenson's journey reminds me most strongly of Chatwin's travel writing in that the centeal point of interest is the writer themself, not the place where they are. Why is he there, why does he have a sleeping bag big enough for two when he does not plan to sleep with the donkey, why does he carry a flask of Brandy with him when he doesn't like drinking neat brandy?
In terms of reading Stevenson generally, I'd say this shows more interest in people rather than places, and a tendency to sketch out the suggestion of a personality in a few words. Which I think you can see further developed in his later fiction.
One the other hand there is a lot of donkey beating and prodding. As other reviews point out he does have a good word to say about any of the women or girls that he comes across, while occasionally he can be respectful about some of the men. After 93 pages I didn't feel that I had any sense of the Cevennes as a place other than that you get to find out if people are Catholic or Protestant. Bit this is a man at the beginning of his literary career, perhaps woeth looking at if you want to see where Stevenson began as a writer.
Second Review
Introduction
Recently, on holiday in Nimes, the bookshops were full - ok, not full, but certainly well stocked - with copies of Stevenson's Travels with a Donkey , including the inevitable graphic novel adaptation, for in France it seems that pretty much anything which can be written gets turned in to a BD sooner or later. Next to them were books about the Camisards, Protestants from the Cevannes who took up arms to resist enforced Catholicisation in the reign of Louis XIV - Stevenson gives over alot of the last third of his book to them. The guidebook said that there were still plenty of Protestants in Nimes. I did see at least three gangs of Jehovah's Witnesses waiting in strategic locations, but that was my only observation about religion in the city.
Stevenson however had sharper eyes than me, because he notes the religion of almost everybody thst he meets in this book. Perhaps times have changed, but I don't think anybody has ever told me their religious observance; then again I have never walked through the Cevennes with a donkey, perhaps it the custom there.
Stevenson on his journey did not go to Nimes , but he finished his journey in the north of the Prefecture, which was good enough for the bookshops of Nimes. And this encouraged me to pick up the book again.
Proper bit
This time I read it in a volume called the travels of Robert Louis Stevenson, as a rule I don't curse Goodreads librarians because I am one myself, and even I find sawing through the branch that I'm sitting on a bit silly, but someone combined that book with Treasure Island which features no donkeys. Together there are 11,000 books bundled together. I don't know if trying to find the copy (ies) of "The Travels" amongst those of Treasure Island is daunting or stupid. The other pieces in the volume cover (most of?) Stevenson's travels in the USA and almost all of those pieces were published before his more famous works like Treasure Island, Kidnapped or Jekyll and Hyde . Stevenson had published a piece on the Scottish Covenanters, maybe he had an idea in mind to write about other upstanding Protestants which led him to the Cevannes. Anyway he walked about 25 km a day for twelve days from north to south, crossing the headwaters of the Loire and Gironde, among other rivers whose names I forget, with Modestine the Donkey carrying his equipment. He did this in October and got lost a few times on the way. There is now an official trail that follows his route, presumably without the detours.
For me the account fell roughly into three parts. Firstly, struggles with the donkey. The first third has almost all the scenes of Stevenson beating his donkey in different ways to get it moving faster and in the direction that he prefers to go. He details how hard it was hitting and picking the donkey, how he sweated, and his arm ached. At the end of the journey it turns out that Modestine's legs are quite badly injured (which was not where he was beating her).
The central section is dominated by his stay at the Trappist monastery of "Our Lady of the Snows". This he quite enjoys, the Trappists are quite accommodating of this Scottish Protestant turned atheist though an ex-military man and a Priest having a day off from his parish do their best to put the fear of hellfire into Stevenson.
In the final section Stevenson arrives further south and finds the landscapes and people more attractive, possibly this is due to the climate, or maybe to the spirit of Protestantism.
The introduction points out that he compares landscapes and people throughout to Scotland, which is true, but not a major theme. It also observes that Bruce Chatwin voiced his disapproval of this travel account. I mention this because Stevenson's journey reminds me most strongly of Chatwin's travel writing in that the centeal point of interest is the writer themself, not the place where they are. Why is he there, why does he have a sleeping bag big enough for two when he does not plan to sleep with the donkey, why does he carry a flask of Brandy with him when he doesn't like drinking neat brandy?
In terms of reading Stevenson generally, I'd say this shows more interest in people rather than places, and a tendency to sketch out the suggestion of a personality in a few words. Which I think you can see further developed in his later fiction.
One the other hand there is a lot of donkey beating and prodding. As other reviews point out he does have a good word to say about any of the women or girls that he comes across, while occasionally he can be respectful about some of the men. After 93 pages I didn't feel that I had any sense of the Cevennes as a place other than that you get to find out if people are Catholic or Protestant. Bit this is a man at the beginning of his literary career, perhaps woeth looking at if you want to see where Stevenson began as a writer.
November 7, 2017
Robert Louis Stevenson’s account of his 12 day hike through the Cévennes mountains in Southern France, accompanied only by his determined and sometimes stubborn donkey Modestine.
March 25, 2024
1.5 stars
“I travel not to go anywhere, but to go. I travel for travel's sake. The great affair is to move.”
In which Robert Louis Stevenson travels around the Cevennes district of France in late September 1877 for twelve days, describing what he saw and those he met. He also travelled with a donkey called Modestine, who carried all his stuff. This was an area of France where the Huguenots dwelt and even when Stevenson was there, religious tensions still existed.
This is known for Stevenson’s descriptions of nature and the countryside and his observations of the local population including a Trappist monastery, some inns, a few peasant dwellings, assorted travellers, some Protestants (but mostly Catholics) and various others.
This is well regarded generally and there are certainly interesting parts and passages. For me they were overwhelmed by other things. Stevenson was unhappy at the time as a woman he cared for went to the US without him. It shows. There are other issues.
Animal cruelty, more specifically, the donkey her purchased. I became so irritated with the cruelty I wrote them down:
“I must instantly maltreat this uncomplaining animal. The sound of my own blows sickened me.”
Finding a stick hard work:
“My arm ached like toothache from perpetual beating.”
Stevenson has a peasant make him a goad; a stick with a sharp metallic point on the end:
“Thither, with infinite trouble, I goaded and kicked the reluctant Modestine, and there I hastened to unload her.”
The goad could draw blood.
“I am ashamed to say, struck the poor sinner twice across the face. It was pitiful to see her lift her head with shut eyes, as if waiting for another blow.”
There’s plenty more in the same vein.
If I was being kind I would say that his attitudes to women were “of the time”
“And Clarisse? What shall I say of Clarisse? She waited the table with a heavy placable nonchalance, like a performing cow.”
There is more in the same vein. He isn’t over keen on children and dogs either and some of his descriptions of female children would be better applied to women of an older age.
I don’t seem to have much luck with travel literature (apart from Patrick Leigh Fermor), and this was no exception.
“I travel not to go anywhere, but to go. I travel for travel's sake. The great affair is to move.”
In which Robert Louis Stevenson travels around the Cevennes district of France in late September 1877 for twelve days, describing what he saw and those he met. He also travelled with a donkey called Modestine, who carried all his stuff. This was an area of France where the Huguenots dwelt and even when Stevenson was there, religious tensions still existed.
This is known for Stevenson’s descriptions of nature and the countryside and his observations of the local population including a Trappist monastery, some inns, a few peasant dwellings, assorted travellers, some Protestants (but mostly Catholics) and various others.
This is well regarded generally and there are certainly interesting parts and passages. For me they were overwhelmed by other things. Stevenson was unhappy at the time as a woman he cared for went to the US without him. It shows. There are other issues.
Animal cruelty, more specifically, the donkey her purchased. I became so irritated with the cruelty I wrote them down:
“I must instantly maltreat this uncomplaining animal. The sound of my own blows sickened me.”
Finding a stick hard work:
“My arm ached like toothache from perpetual beating.”
Stevenson has a peasant make him a goad; a stick with a sharp metallic point on the end:
“Thither, with infinite trouble, I goaded and kicked the reluctant Modestine, and there I hastened to unload her.”
The goad could draw blood.
“I am ashamed to say, struck the poor sinner twice across the face. It was pitiful to see her lift her head with shut eyes, as if waiting for another blow.”
There’s plenty more in the same vein.
If I was being kind I would say that his attitudes to women were “of the time”
“And Clarisse? What shall I say of Clarisse? She waited the table with a heavy placable nonchalance, like a performing cow.”
There is more in the same vein. He isn’t over keen on children and dogs either and some of his descriptions of female children would be better applied to women of an older age.
I don’t seem to have much luck with travel literature (apart from Patrick Leigh Fermor), and this was no exception.
September 25, 2025
For my part, I travel not to go anywhere, but to go. I travel for travel’s sake. The great affair is to move; to feel the needs and hitches of our life more nearly; to come down off this feather-bed of civilization, and find the globe granite underfoot and strewn with cutting flints. Alas, as we get up in life, and are more preoccupied with our affairs, even a holiday is a thing that must be worked for. To hold a pack upon a pack-saddle against a gale out of the freezing north is no high industry, but it is one that serves to occupy and compose the mind. And when the present is so exacting, who can annoy himself about the future
?
I feel, in the interests of truth, this travelogue is singularly unpretentious. Yet, unsurprisingly, I was not that much interested in the misadventures of the narrator. Chief reason is positively simple. Every blow of the stick that touched Modestine’s little figure threw me into some deep disheartenment. It cost me my light cheerfulness and something else. I was falling into something very much like despair. Cannot a story be said without hurting so much a donkey?
Anyways I have rather liked the nature’s description, in some places the landscape was more picturesque, in others it was a sorry story. And I was especially relieved when the journey did spare the donkey, regretfully those moments were slightly sporadic.
Night is a dead monotonous period under a roof; but in the open world it passes lightly, with its stars and dews and perfumes, and the hours are marked by changes in the face of Nature. What seems a kind of temporal death to people choked between walls and curtains, is only a light and living slumber to the man who sleeps afield. All night long he can hear Nature breathing deeply and freely; even as she takes her rest, she turns and smiles; and there is one stirring hour unknown to those who dwell in houses, when a wakeful influence goes abroad over the sleeping hemisphere, and all the outdoor world are on their feet. It is then that the cock first crows, not this time to announce the dawn, but like a cheerful watchman speeding the course of night. Cattle awake on the meadows; sheep break their fast on dewy hillsides, and change to a new lair among the ferns; and houseless men, who have lain down with the fowls, open their dim eyes and behold the beauty of the night.
At what inaudible summons, at what gentle touch of Nature, are all these sleepers thus recalled in the same hour to life? Do the stars rain down an influence, or do we share some thrill of mother earth below our resting bodies? Even shepherds and old country-folk, who are the deepest read in these arcana, have not a guess as to the means or purpose of this nightly resurrection. Towards two in the morning they declare the thing takes place; and neither know nor inquire further. And at least it is a pleasant incident. We are disturbed in our slumber only, like the luxurious Montaigne, ‘that we may the better and more sensibly relish it.’ We have a moment to look upon the stars. And there is a special pleasure for some minds in the reflection that we share the impulse with all outdoor creatures in our neighbourhood, that we have escaped out of the Bastille of civilisation, and are become, for the time being, a mere kindly animal and a sheep of Nature’s flock .
Finally, I was charmed to have made the acquaintance of those nonsecular brothers, as they showed themselves full of kind and healthy interest in all sorts of subjects – in politics, in voyages, in the sleeping-sack of the narrator, and in the sound of their own voices…Possibly one of the best parts of this travelogue.
We speak of hardships, but the true hardship is to be a dull fool, and permitted to mismanage life in our own dull and foolish manner .
I feel, in the interests of truth, this travelogue is singularly unpretentious. Yet, unsurprisingly, I was not that much interested in the misadventures of the narrator. Chief reason is positively simple. Every blow of the stick that touched Modestine’s little figure threw me into some deep disheartenment. It cost me my light cheerfulness and something else. I was falling into something very much like despair. Cannot a story be said without hurting so much a donkey?
Anyways I have rather liked the nature’s description, in some places the landscape was more picturesque, in others it was a sorry story. And I was especially relieved when the journey did spare the donkey, regretfully those moments were slightly sporadic.
Night is a dead monotonous period under a roof; but in the open world it passes lightly, with its stars and dews and perfumes, and the hours are marked by changes in the face of Nature. What seems a kind of temporal death to people choked between walls and curtains, is only a light and living slumber to the man who sleeps afield. All night long he can hear Nature breathing deeply and freely; even as she takes her rest, she turns and smiles; and there is one stirring hour unknown to those who dwell in houses, when a wakeful influence goes abroad over the sleeping hemisphere, and all the outdoor world are on their feet. It is then that the cock first crows, not this time to announce the dawn, but like a cheerful watchman speeding the course of night. Cattle awake on the meadows; sheep break their fast on dewy hillsides, and change to a new lair among the ferns; and houseless men, who have lain down with the fowls, open their dim eyes and behold the beauty of the night.
At what inaudible summons, at what gentle touch of Nature, are all these sleepers thus recalled in the same hour to life? Do the stars rain down an influence, or do we share some thrill of mother earth below our resting bodies? Even shepherds and old country-folk, who are the deepest read in these arcana, have not a guess as to the means or purpose of this nightly resurrection. Towards two in the morning they declare the thing takes place; and neither know nor inquire further. And at least it is a pleasant incident. We are disturbed in our slumber only, like the luxurious Montaigne, ‘that we may the better and more sensibly relish it.’ We have a moment to look upon the stars. And there is a special pleasure for some minds in the reflection that we share the impulse with all outdoor creatures in our neighbourhood, that we have escaped out of the Bastille of civilisation, and are become, for the time being, a mere kindly animal and a sheep of Nature’s flock .
Finally, I was charmed to have made the acquaintance of those nonsecular brothers, as they showed themselves full of kind and healthy interest in all sorts of subjects – in politics, in voyages, in the sleeping-sack of the narrator, and in the sound of their own voices…Possibly one of the best parts of this travelogue.
We speak of hardships, but the true hardship is to be a dull fool, and permitted to mismanage life in our own dull and foolish manner .
November 11, 2017
Every book is, in an intimate sense, a circular letter to the friends of him who writes it. They alone take his meaning; they find private messages, assurances of love, and expressions of gratitude, dropped for them in every corner. The public is but a generous patron who defrays the postage.
In the summer of 1878, Robert Louis Stevenson turned his back on Paris and headed south. His love affair with an American woman, several years his senior, had apparently failed. Too depressed to write, he decided to walk off his blues in some rugged country. In the foothill town of Monastier he bought a donkey, a diminutive mouse-colored beast he named Modestine, and in her reluctant company, he strolled off into the high pastures of the Cévennes. The result of these adventures, the aptly named Travels with a Donkey in the Cévennes (1879), is a private love letter to the women who had left him and a public observance of nature’s beauty, all interlaced with a light history of politics and faith in the region. Stevenson, nearing thirty, had already traveled considerably throughout Europe, but a sustained overland journey on foot was something new to him. He undertook this twelve-day ramble to settle his heart and his thoughts.
He must have appeared odd. A priest and his acolytes inspecting a church laughed out loud as the tramp and his donkey passed by. Their two shadows were comically deformed, his with a knapsack, hers with an enormous sleeping bag stuffed with a leg of cold mutton, a bottle of Beaujolais, an egg-beater (for eggnog, Stevenson's favorite drink), bread both black and white, changes of clothing, a coat, blanket, books, and a “permanent larder” of chocolate and tinned Bologna sausage. Some villagers refused to guide him, a little girl stuck out her tongue, and all the while Modestine behaved, predictably, like an ass.
But most of the people he met were kind and helpful, and the September countryside was in its autumn beauty. Even the nights spent camped along the road were magical: “Night is a dead monotonous period under a roof; but in the open world it passes lightly, with its stars and dews and perfumes, and the hours are marked by changes in the face of Nature.” The next morning, giddy with beauty that surrounded him, he scattered money on the turf to pay for his night’s “lodging.”
Can he escape the memories of the woman he loves? No. Everything reminds him of Fanny. Even in the wild mountains of Gévaudan his thoughts run back to her: “And to live out of doors with the woman a man loves is of all lives the most complete and free.... Love is the great amulet which makes the world a garden.” What did Fanny make of the book? That’s unclear. But Stevenson, fortified by the profit earned by the sale of the manuscript, followed her across an ocean and a continent, and eventually won her lasting love.
Until now I never rightly understood Borges’ fascination with Stevenson’s prose. But after reading Travels with a Donkey, I have to admit I was charmed by Stevenson’s breezy style and modest tone ... even when I was a little disturbed by how closely Stevenson’s difficult dealings with Modestine reflected his trying relationship with Fanny. Travels with a Donkey set the model for some of the excellent British travel writers that soon would follow. It’s hard not to hear Stevenson’s cheerful, self-deprecating voice carried over into Jerome K. Jerome’s Three Men in a Boat or Eric Newby’s A Short Walk in the Hindu Kush. In fact, I was so enchanted by this short book, I read it twice in as many days.
In the summer of 1878, Robert Louis Stevenson turned his back on Paris and headed south. His love affair with an American woman, several years his senior, had apparently failed. Too depressed to write, he decided to walk off his blues in some rugged country. In the foothill town of Monastier he bought a donkey, a diminutive mouse-colored beast he named Modestine, and in her reluctant company, he strolled off into the high pastures of the Cévennes. The result of these adventures, the aptly named Travels with a Donkey in the Cévennes (1879), is a private love letter to the women who had left him and a public observance of nature’s beauty, all interlaced with a light history of politics and faith in the region. Stevenson, nearing thirty, had already traveled considerably throughout Europe, but a sustained overland journey on foot was something new to him. He undertook this twelve-day ramble to settle his heart and his thoughts.
"For my part, I travel not to go anywhere, but to go. I travel for travel’s sake. The great affair is to move; to feel the needs and hitches of our life more nearly; to come down off this featherbed of civilisation, and find the globe granite underfoot and strewn with cutting flints.... To hold a pack upon a pack-saddle against a gale out of the freezing north is no high industry, but it is one that serves to occupy and compose the mind.”
He must have appeared odd. A priest and his acolytes inspecting a church laughed out loud as the tramp and his donkey passed by. Their two shadows were comically deformed, his with a knapsack, hers with an enormous sleeping bag stuffed with a leg of cold mutton, a bottle of Beaujolais, an egg-beater (for eggnog, Stevenson's favorite drink), bread both black and white, changes of clothing, a coat, blanket, books, and a “permanent larder” of chocolate and tinned Bologna sausage. Some villagers refused to guide him, a little girl stuck out her tongue, and all the while Modestine behaved, predictably, like an ass.
But most of the people he met were kind and helpful, and the September countryside was in its autumn beauty. Even the nights spent camped along the road were magical: “Night is a dead monotonous period under a roof; but in the open world it passes lightly, with its stars and dews and perfumes, and the hours are marked by changes in the face of Nature.” The next morning, giddy with beauty that surrounded him, he scattered money on the turf to pay for his night’s “lodging.”
Can he escape the memories of the woman he loves? No. Everything reminds him of Fanny. Even in the wild mountains of Gévaudan his thoughts run back to her: “And to live out of doors with the woman a man loves is of all lives the most complete and free.... Love is the great amulet which makes the world a garden.” What did Fanny make of the book? That’s unclear. But Stevenson, fortified by the profit earned by the sale of the manuscript, followed her across an ocean and a continent, and eventually won her lasting love.
Until now I never rightly understood Borges’ fascination with Stevenson’s prose. But after reading Travels with a Donkey, I have to admit I was charmed by Stevenson’s breezy style and modest tone ... even when I was a little disturbed by how closely Stevenson’s difficult dealings with Modestine reflected his trying relationship with Fanny. Travels with a Donkey set the model for some of the excellent British travel writers that soon would follow. It’s hard not to hear Stevenson’s cheerful, self-deprecating voice carried over into Jerome K. Jerome’s Three Men in a Boat or Eric Newby’s A Short Walk in the Hindu Kush. In fact, I was so enchanted by this short book, I read it twice in as many days.
Want to read
May 4, 2021
Say what you will about the French romcom version, but the heroine has a great ass.
July 24, 2015
This little book shares the adventures of Robert Louis Stevenson and his donkey Modestine during their journey through the Cevennes region of France. RLS had no donkey-driving experience before this trip, and if I had endured his terrible first days in person, I would have run screaming into the forest never to return. But he persevered, and with the kindly help of a local peasant who made him a goad to encourage dear Modestine in her forward motion, the rest of the trip was not nearly so horrific for any of us.
I got mad at RLS once when after a few days of being out on the road, unloading and loading Modestine, a peasant points out to him the sores between her legs and under her tail. Sores which the peasant said came from being overloaded. Now I understand a rookie donkey driver not comprehending things like balancing a load properly, but how can anyone not notice gallsores when they are tying straps and supposedly caring for the poor beast in their down time? But RLS definitely made up for that when he admitted to feeding Modestine her bread by hand, and he picked a lot of chestnut leaves for her one night, and even shed unashamed tears after he sold her at the end of his walk.
RLS embraced every moment of his trip: sleeping under the stars at times (that was okay except for when he stayed under some chestnut trees one night and later learned that the noises he heard had been rats) and other times mixing with the locals at the village inn.
He visited Le-Pont-de-Montvert 'of bloody memory'...and why was the memory bloody? It was the center of a rebellion by French Protestants against the Catholics of the time: this war was called the rebellion of the Camisards, for the linen shirts the Protestants wore. I don't remember quite so much detail about the religious history from the last time I read this book, but it was quite a few years ago and most likely I did not pay much attention to those sections. I found them much more interesting this time around, especially since RLS seemed to feel that the people had learned to get along, live together, and respect each other even with their different religions. Wouldn't it be nice if the whole world today could do the same?!
I got mad at RLS once when after a few days of being out on the road, unloading and loading Modestine, a peasant points out to him the sores between her legs and under her tail. Sores which the peasant said came from being overloaded. Now I understand a rookie donkey driver not comprehending things like balancing a load properly, but how can anyone not notice gallsores when they are tying straps and supposedly caring for the poor beast in their down time? But RLS definitely made up for that when he admitted to feeding Modestine her bread by hand, and he picked a lot of chestnut leaves for her one night, and even shed unashamed tears after he sold her at the end of his walk.
RLS embraced every moment of his trip: sleeping under the stars at times (that was okay except for when he stayed under some chestnut trees one night and later learned that the noises he heard had been rats) and other times mixing with the locals at the village inn.
He visited Le-Pont-de-Montvert 'of bloody memory'...and why was the memory bloody? It was the center of a rebellion by French Protestants against the Catholics of the time: this war was called the rebellion of the Camisards, for the linen shirts the Protestants wore. I don't remember quite so much detail about the religious history from the last time I read this book, but it was quite a few years ago and most likely I did not pay much attention to those sections. I found them much more interesting this time around, especially since RLS seemed to feel that the people had learned to get along, live together, and respect each other even with their different religions. Wouldn't it be nice if the whole world today could do the same?!
March 17, 2020
Robert Louis Stevenson writes here of his 12-day, 120-mile hike in the Cévennes, an area located at the south-eastern edge of the Massif Central region of central, southern France. He was twenty-seven and the year was 1878. His sole companion was a jenny, a female donkey, called Modestine. It was she that carried his large, clumsy, homemade “sleeping sack”!
Donkeys will be donkeys. We say they are stubborn, but what they really have is simply a strong self-preservation instinct. They will have their own idea of the proper route to be taken! They do not move fast, unless they want to, often moving slower than a human’s walking pace. They must be reprimanded, goaded, or at least this is what Stevenson and those around him were saying. Does Stevenson feel guilt for his behavior toward Modestine? A little, but never does he alter his behavior. At the .
I picked this up to learn more about donkeys, and I didn’t! There is in fact very little about Modestine or donkeys in general!
Stevenson talks about the landscape. His descriptions are nice, but I would not classify what is written as lyrical nature writing. The terrain passed through is sparsely populated, barren, rocky, heather-strewn hillsides. Th hike is taken in the fall, at the end of September and the beginning of October.
For me, the most interesting section is when Stevenson tells of the 1702 Protestant rebellion when Camisards rose up against and then were suppressed by the Catholic King Louis XIV. Stevenson walked through the area where the uprising occurred.
Billy Hartman's audiobook narration is OK. His French is not the best and his words run together. The audiobook has music inserted between chapters.
Two stars for both the audio narration and the book. They are not bad, but not good either.
Stevenson says this:
“I travel not to go anywhere, but to go. I travel for travel's sake. The great affair is to move; to feel the needs and hitches of our life more clearly; to come down off this feather-bed of civilization and find the globe granite underfoot and strewn with cutting flints.”
*****************
*The Wisdom of Donkeys: Finding Tranquility in a Chaotic World by Andy Merrifield 2 stars
*Travels with a Donkey in the Cévennes by Robert Louis Stevenson 2 stars
*Don Quixote by Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra 1 star
*Running with Sherman by Christopher McDougall TBR
*Last of the Donkey Pilgrims by by Kevin O'Hara TBR
Donkeys will be donkeys. We say they are stubborn, but what they really have is simply a strong self-preservation instinct. They will have their own idea of the proper route to be taken! They do not move fast, unless they want to, often moving slower than a human’s walking pace. They must be reprimanded, goaded, or at least this is what Stevenson and those around him were saying. Does Stevenson feel guilt for his behavior toward Modestine? A little, but never does he alter his behavior. At the .
I picked this up to learn more about donkeys, and I didn’t! There is in fact very little about Modestine or donkeys in general!
Stevenson talks about the landscape. His descriptions are nice, but I would not classify what is written as lyrical nature writing. The terrain passed through is sparsely populated, barren, rocky, heather-strewn hillsides. Th hike is taken in the fall, at the end of September and the beginning of October.
For me, the most interesting section is when Stevenson tells of the 1702 Protestant rebellion when Camisards rose up against and then were suppressed by the Catholic King Louis XIV. Stevenson walked through the area where the uprising occurred.
Billy Hartman's audiobook narration is OK. His French is not the best and his words run together. The audiobook has music inserted between chapters.
Two stars for both the audio narration and the book. They are not bad, but not good either.
Stevenson says this:
“I travel not to go anywhere, but to go. I travel for travel's sake. The great affair is to move; to feel the needs and hitches of our life more clearly; to come down off this feather-bed of civilization and find the globe granite underfoot and strewn with cutting flints.”
*****************
*The Wisdom of Donkeys: Finding Tranquility in a Chaotic World by Andy Merrifield 2 stars
*Travels with a Donkey in the Cévennes by Robert Louis Stevenson 2 stars
*Don Quixote by Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra 1 star
*Running with Sherman by Christopher McDougall TBR
*Last of the Donkey Pilgrims by by Kevin O'Hara TBR
March 21, 2019
Non so perché Stevenson, che è sempre stato cagionevole di salute, abbia deciso di intraprendere questo viaggio proprio in autunno e non in una stagione più mite, ma i dodici giorni trascorsi nelle Cevenne in sua compagnia (e di Modestine) sono stati una continua meraviglia.
Il mondo visto con i suoi occhi è un bel posto in cui vivere.
https://youtu.be/CWzrABouyeE
Il mondo visto con i suoi occhi è un bel posto in cui vivere.
https://youtu.be/CWzrABouyeE
December 5, 2023
This was fine. In the best sense of fine. Probably 3.5 stars.
I listened to the abridged audiobook read by Denis Lawson (which I cannot find on GoodReads boo)
There were profound moments to be found within the unglamorous travel. Such is life.
I listened to the abridged audiobook read by Denis Lawson (which I cannot find on GoodReads boo)
There were profound moments to be found within the unglamorous travel. Such is life.
March 6, 2015
Small time in Florac. Time to read again this book. With Modestine (the dunkey) He crossed this poor and austere area from the north catholic Gévaudan to the South Protestant Cevennes. He delivers to us very fine observation on people and country. Especially, his glance on inhabitant's opinion is very accute. It gives to his travel an initiatic dimension. But 135 years later, has the mentalities really changed. Not sure.The trauma of the Religion Wars is well always present. The character who confidentially acknowledges to be catholic would undoubtedly make in the same way currently.
Always with Stevenson, just published in France the diary of his second wife, Charmian. It is also the log book of the « Snark » their boat during their travel in Oceania. I have order it. Charmian was the right equal of Stevenson. Great woman.
Always with Stevenson, just published in France the diary of his second wife, Charmian. It is also the log book of the « Snark » their boat during their travel in Oceania. I have order it. Charmian was the right equal of Stevenson. Great woman.
November 21, 2019
Since I love hiking, camping under the stars, France, and RLS, this book was for me. I've even hiked with a burro as pack animal, so I feel Mr. Stevenson's pain that regard. I love RLS's lucid character descriptions and general love of and tolerance of humanity in all its forms, and I am working my way through his oeuvre. Actually, his non-fiction is often more interesting and more revealing than his fiction, though I do love Kidnapped.
July 17, 2018
Read, loved. Prompted to read because middle brother and friend, copied the route - no donkey.
February 19, 2018
"מסעות עם אתון" – אז קודם כל אוציא את האתון. המסכנה נוכחת למעשה רק בראשית הסיפור. יש להודות (גם המחבר הנואש להתקדם בדרכו מודה בכך) שהיא עוברת התעללות. בהמשך היא מאבדת מחשיבותה ורק רובצת על מצפונו של סטיבנסון. ובאשר לספר – הוא נהנה מכל מעלותיה של קלאסיקה וסובל ממגרעותיה. מצד אחד ספר בקצב איטי, לא הרבה קורה (טוב, כמעט כלום לא קורה) רק מטיילים. מצד שני – סיפור מסע, קצת רקע היסטורי ובעיקר אובססיה לגבי יחסי קתולים פרוטסטנטים. יש כאן גם מספר קטעים יפים ששווים ציטוט בעיקר הפניה לידיד הפותחת את הסיפור. סטיבנסון מספיק אינטליגנטי להציג גם את האירועים המינוריים בצורה שיש בה מן הסימבוליות ותוך יצירת השתקפויות והקבלות ביניהן. כמעט ניתן לומר שבאופן פעוט הוא כמעט מבשר של כתיבה מודרנית. אבל סך הכל יצירה זניחה שבאופן תמוהה גם די נהניתי ממנה. הרבה בזכות מהדורת הפוליו שרכשתי שהייתה מלווה ברישומים יפים. יותר משנהניתי ממסעו של סטיבנסון נהניתי ממסע אל צורת ותחושת הספרים שהיו פעם.
Read
December 16, 2023Un livre à boycotter car il banalise les violences qu'inflige Robert Louis Stevenson à l'ânesse Modestine du début à la fin de son voyage à pied.
Elle porte toutes ses affaires et l'auteur se permet de la dénigrer et de la frapper pendant deux semaines, sans arrêt. Il raconte tout cela à l'écrit et n'en ressent pas la moindre honte.
Je passerai sur le classisme et le sexisme du voyageur qui se moque constamment des personnes qu'il rencontre dans les Cévennes. Ce serait trop long de tout énumérer.
J'ai lu ce récit car je m'apprête à emprunter le mal nommé "chemin de Stevenson" - comme si le sentier lui appartenait - à mon tour au mois de mai 2023. 270 kilomètres de randonnée entre le Puy-en-Velay et Alès.
Je marcherai seule sur le GR70, sans ânesse. Comme ça, je ne pourrai m'en prendre qu'à moi-même si je n'avance pas assez vite et que mon sac est trop lourd.
Elle porte toutes ses affaires et l'auteur se permet de la dénigrer et de la frapper pendant deux semaines, sans arrêt. Il raconte tout cela à l'écrit et n'en ressent pas la moindre honte.
Je passerai sur le classisme et le sexisme du voyageur qui se moque constamment des personnes qu'il rencontre dans les Cévennes. Ce serait trop long de tout énumérer.
J'ai lu ce récit car je m'apprête à emprunter le mal nommé "chemin de Stevenson" - comme si le sentier lui appartenait - à mon tour au mois de mai 2023. 270 kilomètres de randonnée entre le Puy-en-Velay et Alès.
Je marcherai seule sur le GR70, sans ânesse. Comme ça, je ne pourrai m'en prendre qu'à moi-même si je n'avance pas assez vite et que mon sac est trop lourd.
August 24, 2019
(2.5) I think I decided this was a must-read because I so love Christopher Rush’s recreation of the travels in To Travel Hopefully. The problem with the original is that there doesn’t seem to be any particular reason for walking 120 miles in 12 days with a donkey as one’s pack animal and traveling companion. “I have been after an adventure all my life, a pure dispassionate adventurer, such as befell early and heroic voyagers,” he writes, but of all the options before him this must surely have been one of the safer choices.
As autumn comes on, Stevenson keeps being mistaken for a peddler and meeting religious extremists of various stripes, from Trappist monks to a Plymouth Brother. He stays in shared inn rooms or sleeps outdoors. He learns about the history of religious wars and martyrdom in the region. It’s the sort of material that might have inspired Guy Stagg in writing The Crossway, his account of a secular pilgrimage from Canterbury to Jerusalem. But it’s, for the most part, awfully boring. Rush at least had a good reason for undertaking his journey: after his wife’s death from breast cancer he needed a purposeful quest to take his mind off his grief.
But anyway, the donkey: that’s why this features in my 20 Books of Summer, after all. Stevenson buys Modestine for 65 francs and she quickly proves to be a typical stubborn-as creature. Passersby encourage him to find an effective goad and show the beast who’s in charge.
Between the early entries and the final ones, though, she is mostly invisible. And, regretfully, Stevenson then has to sell the poor beast again—and for only 35 francs with her saddle. That represents quite a financial loss after less than two weeks!
Ultimately, I prefer reading about Stevenson to reading his actual work. (Other examples: Nancy Horan’s novel Under the Wide and Starry Sky; the chapter of Richard Holmes’s Footsteps: Adventures of a Romantic Biographer in which he recreates the Cévennes trek.) My next Stevenson-themed reading will be The Lighthouse Stevensons by Bella Bathurst.
A lovely line: “to love is the great amulet which makes the world a garden”
Wigtown gets a random mention! As he’s musing on the controversial religious history of the area. “If you met a mixed company in the King’s Arms at Wigton, it is not likely that the talk would run on Covenanters.”
As autumn comes on, Stevenson keeps being mistaken for a peddler and meeting religious extremists of various stripes, from Trappist monks to a Plymouth Brother. He stays in shared inn rooms or sleeps outdoors. He learns about the history of religious wars and martyrdom in the region. It’s the sort of material that might have inspired Guy Stagg in writing The Crossway, his account of a secular pilgrimage from Canterbury to Jerusalem. But it’s, for the most part, awfully boring. Rush at least had a good reason for undertaking his journey: after his wife’s death from breast cancer he needed a purposeful quest to take his mind off his grief.
But anyway, the donkey: that’s why this features in my 20 Books of Summer, after all. Stevenson buys Modestine for 65 francs and she quickly proves to be a typical stubborn-as creature. Passersby encourage him to find an effective goad and show the beast who’s in charge.
They told me when I left, and I was ready to believe it, that before a few days I should come to love Modestine like a dog. Three days had passed, we had shared some misadventures, and my heart was still as cold as a potato towards my beast of burden. She was pretty enough to look at; but then she had given proof of dead stupidity
Between the early entries and the final ones, though, she is mostly invisible. And, regretfully, Stevenson then has to sell the poor beast again—and for only 35 francs with her saddle. That represents quite a financial loss after less than two weeks!
Ultimately, I prefer reading about Stevenson to reading his actual work. (Other examples: Nancy Horan’s novel Under the Wide and Starry Sky; the chapter of Richard Holmes’s Footsteps: Adventures of a Romantic Biographer in which he recreates the Cévennes trek.) My next Stevenson-themed reading will be The Lighthouse Stevensons by Bella Bathurst.
A lovely line: “to love is the great amulet which makes the world a garden”
Wigtown gets a random mention! As he’s musing on the controversial religious history of the area. “If you met a mixed company in the King’s Arms at Wigton, it is not likely that the talk would run on Covenanters.”
July 10, 2025
[5.0 / 5.0] ★★★★★
Ebok, Norsk, Bookbites/Biblioteket
På vandring med et esel i Cevenne handler om en fottur gjennom Cevenne, en fjellkjede i Sør-Frankrike, og er basert på forfatterens dagboknotater fra turen sammen med eselet Modestine. Det fortelles om forholdet mellom de to som ikke alltid fortoner seg helt knirkefritt, stedene de vandrer og menneskene de møter underveis.
Dette er en av de største og mest fornøyelige leseopplevelsene jeg har hatt så langt i år! Ja, på åresvis kanskje...
Kudos for god driv, språk og flust av vittigheter!!!
Jeg kommer utvilsomt til å lese denne boken igjen en dag, på originalspråk.
Ebok, Norsk, Bookbites/Biblioteket
På vandring med et esel i Cevenne handler om en fottur gjennom Cevenne, en fjellkjede i Sør-Frankrike, og er basert på forfatterens dagboknotater fra turen sammen med eselet Modestine. Det fortelles om forholdet mellom de to som ikke alltid fortoner seg helt knirkefritt, stedene de vandrer og menneskene de møter underveis.
Dette er en av de største og mest fornøyelige leseopplevelsene jeg har hatt så langt i år! Ja, på åresvis kanskje...
Kudos for god driv, språk og flust av vittigheter!!!
Jeg kommer utvilsomt til å lese denne boken igjen en dag, på originalspråk.
June 11, 2011
Despite the advice and concerns of his wife and the friend dragged along on his last travel book, Stevenson decides to hike through rural France.
A couple days of hiking lead to the idea that he should buy a donkey to carry his baggage and everything will go smoothly.
Funny and entertaining, as Stevenson, who loves travel, but is a complete amateur stumbles through his travels. Gives us a look at the way the world was then, as he trudges through small villages and visits a monastery.
Plus, you realize just hiking through the French countryside in an era before cars, cell phones, electric lights or even handy paperback travel books is quite an adventure. The chapter where he and the donkey get lost and try to reach their destination after dark is quite intense and a bit scary, despite the fact that a mere couple miles separates the two places he's traveling between.
In the woods, at night, he might as well be lost in the jungle.
Interesting book, but he has a tendency to write about places like everyone will know where he's talking about and it left me a bit lost in spots, until he mentioned a place name I did recognize.
A couple days of hiking lead to the idea that he should buy a donkey to carry his baggage and everything will go smoothly.
Funny and entertaining, as Stevenson, who loves travel, but is a complete amateur stumbles through his travels. Gives us a look at the way the world was then, as he trudges through small villages and visits a monastery.
Plus, you realize just hiking through the French countryside in an era before cars, cell phones, electric lights or even handy paperback travel books is quite an adventure. The chapter where he and the donkey get lost and try to reach their destination after dark is quite intense and a bit scary, despite the fact that a mere couple miles separates the two places he's traveling between.
In the woods, at night, he might as well be lost in the jungle.
Interesting book, but he has a tendency to write about places like everyone will know where he's talking about and it left me a bit lost in spots, until he mentioned a place name I did recognize.
Read
December 16, 2023Un livre à boycotter car il banalise les violences qu'inflige Robert Louis Stevenson à l'ânesse Modestine du début à la fin de son voyage à pied.
Elle porte toutes ses affaires et l'auteur se permet de la dénigrer et de la frapper pendant deux semaines, sans arrêt. Il raconte tout cela à l'écrit et n'en ressent pas la moindre honte.
Je passerai sur le classisme et le sexisme du voyageur qui se moque constamment des personnes qu'il rencontre dans les Cévennes. Ce serait trop long de tout énumérer.
J'ai lu ce récit car je m'apprête à emprunter le mal nommé "chemin de Stevenson" - comme si le sentier lui appartenait - à mon tour au mois de mai 2023. 270 kilomètres de randonnée entre le Puy-en-Velay et Alès.
Je marcherai seule sur le GR70, sans ânesse. Comme ça, je ne pourrai m'en prendre qu'à moi-même si je n'avance pas assez vite et que mon sac est trop lourd.
Elle porte toutes ses affaires et l'auteur se permet de la dénigrer et de la frapper pendant deux semaines, sans arrêt. Il raconte tout cela à l'écrit et n'en ressent pas la moindre honte.
Je passerai sur le classisme et le sexisme du voyageur qui se moque constamment des personnes qu'il rencontre dans les Cévennes. Ce serait trop long de tout énumérer.
J'ai lu ce récit car je m'apprête à emprunter le mal nommé "chemin de Stevenson" - comme si le sentier lui appartenait - à mon tour au mois de mai 2023. 270 kilomètres de randonnée entre le Puy-en-Velay et Alès.
Je marcherai seule sur le GR70, sans ânesse. Comme ça, je ne pourrai m'en prendre qu'à moi-même si je n'avance pas assez vite et que mon sac est trop lourd.
May 29, 2015
Stevensen's journey takes place in the first years of the 3rd Republic, which was to survive from 1870 to 1940. France was in a state of political ferment following the shock of defeat at Sedan, the loss of Alsace and Lorraine and the capture of the emperor Napoléon III. National humiliation spurred drastic political change. The starting point of Stevenson's journey, Le Monastier near Le Puy, is said to be characterised by, among other things, "unparalleled political dissension". Now I don't know a lot about this period, but I find it a little implausible that Le Monastier should be particularly remarkable in France at this time. This was just after the Paris Commune. The monarchy was finished at last, and monarchists were in retreat. I think the dissension that Stevenson witnessed may have been more representative of France in general than he suspected. It seems a pity that he should have chosen to travel in such an out-of-the-way place at a time when there must have been so much happening that might have been of greater social interest.
At the beginning of the book Stevenson acquires a tiny donkey, which he names Modestine. I was a little dismayed at his account of the thrashing and proddings he administers to hurry her up. Granted, he does it reluctantly, for he is convinced of the necessity of such treatment if Modestine is to be useful. His repeated jocular use of very conventional gender stereotypes with reference to Modestine is rather tedious to my modern sense. The journey across the Cevennes is short enough. He and Modestine sleep at inns, in the open and in a Trappist monastery. The latter part of the journey is spent mostly among Protestants, who Stevenson finds generally more congenial than the Roman Catholics he has hitherto met; and he relates with some verve the history of a bloody Protestant armed rebellion that took place in the district about 160 years earlier. There is a good deal of well-meaning waffle about his religious views, which are mild, tolerant and of very little interest. His effusions about starry skies and scenery are equally conventional.
It is in the nature of a travelogue, I suppose, to consist of a string of inconsequential incidents of which the author must make what he can. His meditations on incident and landscape and conversations may or may not make entertaining reading. Stevenson has no companion on his journey other than the donkey, so there is a dearth of entertaining dialogue. The book is mercifully short.
At the beginning of the book Stevenson acquires a tiny donkey, which he names Modestine. I was a little dismayed at his account of the thrashing and proddings he administers to hurry her up. Granted, he does it reluctantly, for he is convinced of the necessity of such treatment if Modestine is to be useful. His repeated jocular use of very conventional gender stereotypes with reference to Modestine is rather tedious to my modern sense. The journey across the Cevennes is short enough. He and Modestine sleep at inns, in the open and in a Trappist monastery. The latter part of the journey is spent mostly among Protestants, who Stevenson finds generally more congenial than the Roman Catholics he has hitherto met; and he relates with some verve the history of a bloody Protestant armed rebellion that took place in the district about 160 years earlier. There is a good deal of well-meaning waffle about his religious views, which are mild, tolerant and of very little interest. His effusions about starry skies and scenery are equally conventional.
It is in the nature of a travelogue, I suppose, to consist of a string of inconsequential incidents of which the author must make what he can. His meditations on incident and landscape and conversations may or may not make entertaining reading. Stevenson has no companion on his journey other than the donkey, so there is a dearth of entertaining dialogue. The book is mercifully short.
September 20, 2019
A small book worth many times its size in pleasant contemplation. It is written in a lovely old style of speaking with a wry sense of humor and detached observation of humans at a time and place far away from us, and written in 1878. After reading a recent article in the NYT about this overlooked area of France, I decided to find this book because the Time's travel piece was interesting, and the idea of an old book about the same place was attractive. I found a 1948 first edition from The Falcon Press, but I do not find this edition on the edition list. However, there have been many publications of this classic. Perhaps most of us moderns do not know much of Robert Louis Stevenson, but boys of my age back in the day always read his Treasure Island.
His accounts and descriptions of earth and sky and the happenstance of meeting random characters on the trail could inspire any of us to swear to undertake a pilgrimage at the next opportunity. The salubrious benefits of hiking (biking in my case) slowly across foreign territory are made more obvious by this tale, and the daily and nightly struggle to find food and lodging in humble cottages, village inns, and camping sites in forest glades enlivens the imagination and yen for adventure.
Honestly, few travel writings of the sort could exceed this one. Plus there is a touch of history embedded in this countryside that recalls the bitter and bloody revolt of the French Huguenot Protestants, the Camisards, which lasted from 1702 until 1715, but final peace was not signed until 1787. Stevenson was obviously not a religious partisan, but his account of a short stay at a Trappist monastery where he enjoyed the hospitality of the Catholics in Protestant landscape stimulates one's interest in the period.
And by the way, something else that might interest gentle reader is another collectible on my shelf from this Scot, "Essays of Travel and in the Art of Travel Writing," this one from Charles Scribner's Sons, New York, 1923. This includes a fragment from the above Cevennes work entitled, 'A Mountain Town in France.' Good hunting for this one.
His accounts and descriptions of earth and sky and the happenstance of meeting random characters on the trail could inspire any of us to swear to undertake a pilgrimage at the next opportunity. The salubrious benefits of hiking (biking in my case) slowly across foreign territory are made more obvious by this tale, and the daily and nightly struggle to find food and lodging in humble cottages, village inns, and camping sites in forest glades enlivens the imagination and yen for adventure.
Honestly, few travel writings of the sort could exceed this one. Plus there is a touch of history embedded in this countryside that recalls the bitter and bloody revolt of the French Huguenot Protestants, the Camisards, which lasted from 1702 until 1715, but final peace was not signed until 1787. Stevenson was obviously not a religious partisan, but his account of a short stay at a Trappist monastery where he enjoyed the hospitality of the Catholics in Protestant landscape stimulates one's interest in the period.
And by the way, something else that might interest gentle reader is another collectible on my shelf from this Scot, "Essays of Travel and in the Art of Travel Writing," this one from Charles Scribner's Sons, New York, 1923. This includes a fragment from the above Cevennes work entitled, 'A Mountain Town in France.' Good hunting for this one.
September 8, 2012
A very sweet, early work from RLS. At first I absolutely cringed at some of the content of the story, with Modestine (the eponymous donkey) enduring her lashings, herself shutting her eyes in anticipation of being struck. But, I reminded myself that this is RLS as a young man in the 1870's, & soldiered on. I'm glad I did. RLS gives lush descriptions of his travels with Modestine as his somewhat reluctantly-accepted partner. As brief as this book is, by the time the end comes about, you feel as though you just took the same trip the author did, & I know at least for myself, felt such a quick affection for Modestine. The end is so beautifully written, I felt very touched by it.
This is undoubtedly not as popular as Stevenson's other works, which is a shame, because it's a great read and in a different vein of what makes him popular.
This is undoubtedly not as popular as Stevenson's other works, which is a shame, because it's a great read and in a different vein of what makes him popular.
August 25, 2010
favorite passage:
To make matters worse, we encountered another donkey, ranging at will upon the roadside; and this other donkey chanced to be a gentleman. He and Modestine met nickering for joy, and I had to separate the pair and beat down their young romance with a renewed and feverish bastinado. If the other donkey had had the heart of a male under his hide, he would have fallen upon me tooth and hoof; and this was kind of a consolation -- he was plainly unworthy of Modestine's affection. But the incident saddened me, as did everything that spoke of my donkey's sex.
A humorous testament to the gentlemanly character of Robert Louis Stevenson.
To make matters worse, we encountered another donkey, ranging at will upon the roadside; and this other donkey chanced to be a gentleman. He and Modestine met nickering for joy, and I had to separate the pair and beat down their young romance with a renewed and feverish bastinado. If the other donkey had had the heart of a male under his hide, he would have fallen upon me tooth and hoof; and this was kind of a consolation -- he was plainly unworthy of Modestine's affection. But the incident saddened me, as did everything that spoke of my donkey's sex.
A humorous testament to the gentlemanly character of Robert Louis Stevenson.
February 20, 2016
Funny and entertaining, “Travels with a Donkey in The Cevennes” is an interesting travel book. A vast departure from Robert Louis Stevenson’s more well know work. After reading this book it felt like the time frame was longer than it was I think due to the overall descriptions of Protestant suppression in the region, there was a good deal of time devoted to it. I found the experience travelling with Stevenson during those days in the late 19th Century enlightening and highly entertaining. The illustrations by Ardizzone worked very well for me and did a good job of deepening the experience with this book.
May 16, 2018
This is a travel journal of R.L.Stevenson written more than hundred years ago.The journey was completed within twelve days.So the book doesn't have many pages.What is actually has is a lot of humour in the beginning (sometimes one can even find oneself laughing).But as the book progresses,the humour gives way to religious debates and description which seem pretty nonsensical at present.There is a significant usage of French words which also rubs off the reader's interest.So this is a book for a Stevenson fan or a historical travelogue fan.My rating is average.
August 24, 2013
Ok. In terms of travel narratives, have read better and more interesting. Actually had a hard time getting through of it, found it a bit of a slog. But in terms of descriptive language, my god, the pictures this man paints with his words. . . Stevenson talaga. So I can't totally dismiss this book. So. Right down the middle I guess. Three stars.
October 6, 2024
Robert Louis Stevenson’s ‘Travels with a Donkey in the Cévennes’ is a mesmerizing account of his 1878 journey through the Cévennes mountains of France. Accompanied by Modestine, his steadfast donkey, Stevenson explores the stark and beautiful terrain, traveling from the Catholic north of Gévaudan to the Protestant south of Cévennes.
Stevenson’s writing is infused with a deep appreciation for the natural world. His evocative descriptions of sleeping in the open air, surrounded by the rugged beauty of the Cévennes, create a vivid and intimate sense of place. The serenity and solace he finds in nature are conveyed through beautifully crafted passages that reflect his profound connection to the landscape.
Amidst this natural splendor, Stevenson also candidly reveals his sense of solitude. His reflections on missing the company of a female companion underscore the emotional depth of his journey. He contrasts the comfort and companionship that such a presence would bring with the solitude of his travels, offering a poignant insight into his personal experience.
Stevenson’s observations on the region’s cultural and religious divides are particularly striking. His reflections on the lingering effects of the Religion Wars provides a nuanced perspective on historical traumas within the region.
It highlights a deeply reflective journey through both the physical and emotional landscapes of Stevenson’s time, inviting readers to contemplate the interplay of solitude, nature, and companionship, while enjoying the beauty of Stevenson’s prose.
Stevenson’s writing is infused with a deep appreciation for the natural world. His evocative descriptions of sleeping in the open air, surrounded by the rugged beauty of the Cévennes, create a vivid and intimate sense of place. The serenity and solace he finds in nature are conveyed through beautifully crafted passages that reflect his profound connection to the landscape.
Amidst this natural splendor, Stevenson also candidly reveals his sense of solitude. His reflections on missing the company of a female companion underscore the emotional depth of his journey. He contrasts the comfort and companionship that such a presence would bring with the solitude of his travels, offering a poignant insight into his personal experience.
Stevenson’s observations on the region’s cultural and religious divides are particularly striking. His reflections on the lingering effects of the Religion Wars provides a nuanced perspective on historical traumas within the region.
It highlights a deeply reflective journey through both the physical and emotional landscapes of Stevenson’s time, inviting readers to contemplate the interplay of solitude, nature, and companionship, while enjoying the beauty of Stevenson’s prose.
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