The Life and Opinions of Tristram Shandy, Gentleman Laurence Sterne (short novels to read .txt) 📖

a bilious diarrhœa, which has brought me back again to my first principle on which I set out⁠⸺⁠and with which I shall now scamper it away to the banks of the Garonne⁠—

⸺⁠No;⁠⸺⁠I cannot stop a moment to give you the character of the people⁠—their genius⁠⸺⁠their manners⁠—their customs⁠—their laws⁠⸺⁠their religion⁠—their government⁠—their manufactures⁠—their commerce⁠—their finances, with all the resources and hidden springs which sustain them: qualified as I may be, by spending three days and two nights amongst them, and during all that time making these things the entire subject of my enquiries and reflections⁠⸺⁠

Still⁠—still I must away⁠⸺⁠the roads are paved⁠—the posts are short⁠—the days are long⁠—’tis no more than noon⁠—I shall be at Fontainbleau before the king⁠⸺⁠

—Was he going there? not that I know⁠⸺⁠

XX

Now I hate to hear a person, especially if he be a traveller, complain that we do not get on so fast in France as we do in England; whereas we get on much faster, consideratis considerandis; thereby always meaning, that if you weigh their vehicles with the mountains of baggage which you lay both before and behind upon them⁠—and then consider their puny horses, with the very little they give them⁠—’tis a wonder they get on at all: their suffering is most unchristian, and ’tis evident thereupon to me, that a French post-horse would not know what in the world to do, was it not for the two words ****** and ****** in which there is as much sustenance, as if you gave him a peck of corn: now as these words cost nothing, I long from my soul to tell the reader what they are; but here is the question⁠—they must be told him plainly, and with the most distinct articulation, or it will answer no end⁠—and yet to do it in that plain way⁠—though their reverences may laugh at it in the bedchamber⁠—fell well I wot, they will abuse it in the parlour: for which cause, I have been volving and revolving in my fancy some time, but to no purpose, by what clean device or facette contrivance I might so modulate them, that whilst I satisfy that ear which the reader chooses to lend me⁠—I might not dissatisfy the other which he keeps to himself.

⸺⁠My ink burns my finger to try⁠⸺⁠and when I have⁠⸺’twill have a worse consequence⁠⸺⁠it will burn (I fear) my paper.

⸺⁠No;⁠⸺⁠I dare not⁠⸺⁠

But if you wish to know how the abbess of Andoüillets and a novice of her convent got over the difficulty (only first wishing myself all imaginable success)⁠—I’ll tell you without the least scruple.

XXI

The abbess of Andoüillets, which, if you look into the large set of provincial maps now publishing at Paris, you will find situated amongst the hills which divide Burgundy from Savoy, being in danger of an Anchylosis or stiff joint (the sinovia of her knee becoming hard by long matins), and having tried every remedy⁠⸺⁠first, prayers and thanksgiving; then invocations to all the saints in heaven promiscuously⁠⸺⁠then particularly to every saint who had ever had a stiff leg, before her⁠⸺⁠then touching it with all the reliques of the convent, principally with the thighbone of the man of Lystra, who had been impotent from his youth⁠⸺⁠then wrapping it up in her veil when she went to bed⁠—then crosswise her rosary⁠—then bringing in to her aid the secular arm, and anointing it with oils and hot fat of animals⁠⸺⁠then treating it with emollient and resolving fomentations⁠⸺⁠then with poultices of marsh-mallows, mallows, bonus Henricus, white lillies and fenugreek⁠—then taking the woods, I mean the smoak of ’em, holding her scapulary across her lap⁠⸺⁠then decoctions of wild chicory, water-cresses, chervil, sweet cecily and cochlearia⁠⸺⁠and nothing all this while answering, was prevailed on at last to try the hot baths of Bourbon⁠⸺⁠so having first obtain’d leave of the visitor-general to take care of her existence⁠—she ordered all to be got ready for her journey: a novice of the convent of about seventeen, who had been troubled with a whitloe in her middle finger, by sticking it constantly into the abbess’s cast poultices, etc.⁠—had gained such an interest, that overlooking a sciatical old nun, who might have been set up forever by the hot-baths of Bourbon, Margarita, the little novice, was elected as the companion of the journey.

An old calesh, belonging to the abbesse, lined with green frize, was ordered to be drawn out into the sun⁠—the gardener of the convent being chosen muleteer⁠—led out the two old mules, to clip the hair from the rump-ends of their tails, whilst a couple of lay-sisters were busied, the one in darning the lining, and the other in sewing on the shreads of yellow binding, which the teeth of time had unravelled⁠⸺⁠the under-gardener dress’d the muleteer’s hat in hot wine-lees⁠⸺⁠and a tailor sat musically at it, in a shed over-against the convent, in assorting four dozen of bells for the harness, whistling to each bell, as he tied it on with a thong.⁠⸺⁠

⸺⁠The carpenter and the smith of Andoüillets held a council of wheels; and by seven, the morning after, all look’d spruce, and was ready at the gate of the convent for the hot-baths of Bourbon⁠—two rows of the unfortunate stood ready there an hour before.

The abbess of Andoüillets, supported by Margarita the novice, advanced slowly to the calesh, both clad in white, with their black rosaries hanging at their breasts⁠⸺⁠

⸺⁠There was a simple solemnity in the contrast: they entered the calesh; and nuns in the same uniform, sweet emblem of innocence, each occupied a window, and as the abbess and Margarita look’d up⁠—each (the sciatical poor nun excepted)⁠—each stream’d out the end of her veil in the air⁠—then kiss’d the lilly hand which let it go: the good abbess and Margarita laid their hands saint-wise upon their breasts⁠—look’d up to heaven⁠—then to them⁠—and look’d “God bless you, dear sisters.”

I declare I am interested in this story, and wish I had been there.

The gardener, whom I shall now call the muleteer, was a little, hearty, broad-set, good-natured, chattering,