Imagini ale paginilor
PDF
ePub

the lodger with anxiety thinks of a discharge.In such a situation the poet might well say,

"The soul uneasy," &c.

My L. talks of leaving the country-may a kind angel guide thy steps hither!-Solitude at length grows tiresome-Thou sayest thou wilt quit the place with regret-I think so too.-Does not something uneasy mingle with the very reflection of leaving it? It is like parting with an old friend, whose temper and company one has long been acquainted with-I think I see you looking twenty times a day at the house-almost counting every brick and pane of glass, and telling them at the same time with a sigh, you are going to leave them.-Oh happy modification of matter! they will remain insensible of thy loss.-But how wilt thou be able to part with thy garden?—The recollection of so many pleasing walks must have endeared it to you. The trees, the shrubs, the flowers, which thou hast reared with thy own hands will they not droop and fade away sooner upon thy departure?-Who will be the successor to nurse them in thy absence?-Thou wilt leave thy name upon the myrtle-tree.-If trees, and shrubs, and flowers, could compose an elegy, I should expect a very plaintive one upon this subject.

Adieu, adieu! Believe me ever, ever thine.

LETTER XXXVII.

MR. STERNE TO JH-S—, ESQ.

DEAR H-, Coxwould, [about August] 1761. I REJOICE you are in London-rest you there in peace; here 'tis the devil-You was a good prophet-I wish myself back again, as you told me I should-but not because a thin, death-doing, pestiferous, north-east wind blows in a line directly from Crazy-castle turret full upon me in this cuck. oldy retreat (for I value the north-east wind and all its powers not a straw),-but the transition from rapid motion to absolute rest was too violent. -I should have walked about the streets of York ten days, as a proper medium to have passed through, before I entered upon my rest.—I staid but a moment, and I have been here but a few, to satisfy me I have not managed my miseries like a wise man-and if God, for my consolation under them, had not poured forth the spirit of Shandeism into me, which will not suffer me to think two moments upon any grave subject, I would else just now lie down and die-die-and yet, in half an hour's time, I'll lay a guinea I shall be as merry as a monkey-and as mischievous too, and forget it all-so that this is but a copy of the present train running across my brain.-And so you think this cursed stupid-but that, my dear H., depends much upon the quotâ horâ of your shabby clock, if the pointer of it is in any quarter between ten in the morning or four in the afternoon-I give it up-or if the day is obscured by dark engendering

clouds of either wet or dry weather, I am still lost --but who knows but it may be five-and the day as fine a day as ever shone upon the earth since the destruction of Sodom-and peradventure your honour may have got a good hearty dinner to-day, and eat and drank your intellectuals into a placidulish and a blandulish amalmaga-to bear nonsense--So much for that.

"Tis as cold and churlish just now, as (if God had not pleased it to be so) it ought to have been in bleak December, and therefore I am glad you are where you are, and where (I repeat it again) I wish I was also-Curse of poverty, and absence from those we love!-they are two great evils which embitter all things-and yet with the first I am not haunted much.-As to matrimony, I should be a beast to rail at it, for my wife is easybut the world is not-and had I staid from her a second longer it would have been a burning shame -else she declares herself happier without me— but not in anger is this declaration made-but in pure sober good sense, built on sound experienceshe hopes you will be able to strike a bargain for me before this time twelvemonth, to lead a bear round Europe and from this hope from you, I verily believe it is, that you are so high in her favour at present-she swears you are a fellow of wit, though humorous; a funny jolly soul, though somewhat splenetic; and (bating the love of women) as honest as gold-how do you like the simile?-Oh, Lord! now you are going to Ranelagh to-night, and I am sitting, sorrowful as the prophet was when the voice cried out to him and said, "What dost thou here, Elijah?"-Tis well

the spirit does not make the same at Coxwould— for unless for the few sheep left me to take care of, in this wilderness, I might as well, nay better, be at Mecca-When we find we can, by a shifting of places, run away from ourselves, what think you of a jaunt there, before we finally pay a visit to the vale of Jehosophat?-As ill a fame as we have, I trust I shall one day or other see you face to fare-so tell the two colonels, if they love good company, to live righteously and soberly, as you do, and then they will have no doubts or dangers within or without them-Present my best and warmest wishes to them, and advise the eldest to prop up his spirits, and get a rich dowager before the conclusion of the peace-Why will not the advice suit both, par nobile fratrum?

To-morrow morning (if Heaven permit) I begin the fifth volume of shandy-I care not a curse for the critics-I'll load my vehicle with what goods he sends me, and they may take 'em off my hands, or let them alone-I am very valorous—and 'tis in proportion as we retire from the world, and see it in its true dimensions, that we despise it-no bad rant!-God above bless you! You know I am your affectionate cousin.

[ocr errors]

What few remain of the Demoniacs, greet and write me a letter, if you are able, as foolish as this.

LETTER XXXVIII.

MR. STERNE TO DAVID GARRICK, ESQ.

Paris, Jan. 31, 1762.

MY DEAR FRIEND, THINK not, because I have been a fortnight in this metropolis without writing to you, that therefore I have not had you and Mrs. Garrick a hundred times in my head and heart-heart! yes, yes, say you-but I must not waste paper in badinage this post, whatever I do the next.

Well!

here I am, my friend, as much improved in my health, for the time, as ever your friendship could wish or at least your faith give credit to-by-thebye I am somewhat worse in my intellectuals, for my head is turned round with what I see, and the unexpected honours I have met with here. Tristram was almost as much known here as in London, at least among your men of condition and learning, and has got me introduced into so many circles ('tis comme à Londres). I have just now a fortnight's dinners and suppers upon my hands.— My application to the count de Choiseul goes on swimmingly, for not only Mr. Pelletiere (who, bythe-bye sends ten thousand civilities to you and Mrs. Garrick) has undertaken my offair, but the count de Limbourgh-the baron d'Holbach, has offered any security for the inoffensiveness of iny behaviour in France-'tis more, you rogue, than you will do. This baron is one of the most learned noblemen here, the great protector of wits, and the Sçavans who are not wits-keeps open house three days a week-his house is now, as yours was to me,

« ÎnapoiContinuă »