Adieu my dear friend,
Believe me yours, &c. L. STERNE.
P.S. If you see Mr. Crawfurd, tell him I greet him kindly.
LETTER XCI. TO J. H. S. ESQ.
LITERAS vestras lepidissimas, mi consobrine, consobrinis meis omnibus carior, accepi die Veneris; sed posta non rediebat versus aquilonem eo die, aliter scripsissem prout desiderabas: nescio quid est materia cum me, sed sum fatigatus & aegrotus de meâ uxore plus quam unquam — & sum possessus cum diabolo qui pellet me in urbem — & tu es possessus cum eodem malo spiritu qui te tenet in deserto esse tentatum ancillis tuis, et perturbatum uxore tuâ — crede mihi, mi Antoni, quod isthaec non est via ad salutem sive hodiernam, sive aeternam; num tu incipis cogitare de pecuniâ, quae, ut ait Sanctus Paulus, est radix omnium malorum, & non satis dicis in corde tuo, ego Antonius de Castello Infirmo, sum jam quadraginta & plus annos natus, & explevi octavum meum lustrum, et tempus est me curare, & meipsum Antonium facere hominem felicem, & liberum, et mihimet ipsi benefacere, ut exhortatur Solomon, qui dicit quod nihil est melius in hâc vitâ, quàm quòd homo vivat festivè, & quod edat et bibat, & bono fruatur, quia hoc est sua portio & dos in hoc mundo.
Nunc te scire vellemus, quòd non debeo esse reprehendi pro festinando eundo ad Londinum, quia Deus est testis, quod non propero prae gloriâ, & pro me ostendere; nam diabolus iste qui me intravit, non est diabolus vanus, at consobrinus suus Lucifer — sed est diabolus amabundus, qui non vult sinere me esse solum; nam cum non cumbendo cum uxore meâ sum mentulatior quam par est — & sum mortaliter in amore — & sum fatuus; ergo tu me, mi care Antoni, excusabis, quoniam tu fuisti in amore, & per mare & per terras ivisti & festinâsti sicut diabolus, eodem te propellente diabolo. Habeo multa ad te scribere — sed scribo hanc epistolam, in domo coffeatariâ & plenâ sociorum strepitosorum, qui non permittent me cogitare unam cogitationem.
Saluta amicum Panty meum, cujus literis respondebo — saluta amicos in domo Gisbrosensi, & oro, credas me vinculo consobrinitatis & amoris ad te, mi Antoni, devinctissimum,
L. STERNE.
LETTER XCII. TO A. L — E, ESQ.
Coxwould, June 7, 1767.
Dear L...e,
I Had not been many days at this peaceful cottage before your letter greeted me with the seal of friendship, and most cordially do I thank you for so kind a proof of your good will — I was truly anxious to hear of the recovery of my sentimental friend — but I would not write to enquire after her, unless I could have sent her the testimony without the tax, for even how-d’yes to invalids, or those that have lately been so, either call to mind what is past or what may return — at least I find it so. — I am as happy as a prince, at Coxwould — and I wish you could see in how princely a manner I live— ’tis a land of plenty. I sit down alone to venison, fish and wild fowl, or a couple of fowls or ducks, with curds, and strawberries, and cream, and all the simple plenty which a rich valley under (Hamilton Hills) can produce — with a clean cloth on my table — and a bottle of wine on my right hand to drink your health. I have a hundred hens and chickens about my yard — and not a parishioner catches a hare, or a rabbet, or a trout, but he brings it as an offering to me. If solitude would cure a love-sick heart, I would give you an invitation — but absence and time lessen no attachment which virtue inspires. — I am in high spirits — care never enters this cottage — I take the air every day in my post chaise, with my two long tail’d horses — they turn out good ones; and as to myself, I think I am better upon the whole for the medicines, and regimen I submitted to in town — May you, dear L — , want neither the one, nor the other.
Yours truly, L. STERNE.
LETTER XCIII. TO THE SAME.
Coxwould, June 30, 1767.
I Am in still better health, my dear L...e, than when I wrote last to you — owing I believe to my riding out every day with my friend H.... whose castle lies near the sea — and there is a beach as even as a mirrour, of five miles in length before it — where we daily run races in our chaises, with one wheel in the sea, and the other on the land. — D... has obtain’d his fair Indian, and has this post sent a letter of enquiries after Yorick, and his Bramine. He is a good soul and interests himself much in our fate — I cannot forgive you, L...e, for your folly in saying you intend to get introduced to the — I despise them, and I shall hold your understanding much cheaper than I now do, if you persist in a resolution so unworthy of you. — I suppose Mrs. J — telling you they were sensible, is the ground work you go upon — by — they are not clever; tho’ what is commonly call’d wit, may pass for literature on the other side of Temple-bar. — You say Mrs. J — thinks them amiable — she judges too favourably; but I have put a stop to her intentions of visiting them. — They are bitter enemies of mine, and I am even with them. La Bramine assured me they used their endeavours with her to break off her friendship with me, for reasons I will not write, but tell you. — I said enough of them before she left England, and tho’ she yielded to me in every other point, yet in this she obstinately persisted. — Strange infatuation! — but I think I have effected my purpose by a falsity, which Yorick’s friendship to the Bramine can only justify. — I wrote her word that the most amiable of women reiterated my request, that she would not write to them. I said too, she had conceal’d many things for the sake of her peace of mind — when in fact, L — e, this was merely a child of my own brain, made Mrs. J— ‘s by adoption, to enforce the argument I had before urged so strongly. — Do not mention this circumstance to Mrs. J — , ‘twould displease her — and I had no design in it but for the Bramine to be a friend to herself. — I ought now to be busy from sun rise, to sun set, for I have a book to write — a wife to receive — an estate to sell — a parish to superintend, and what is worst of all, a disquieted heart to reason with — these are continual calls upon me. — I have receiv’d half a dozen letters to press me to join my friends at Scarborough, but I am at present deaf to them all. — I perhaps may pass a few days there something later in the season, not at present — and so dear L...e, adieu.
I am most cordially yours, L. STERNE.
LETTER XCIV. TO MR. AND MRS. J.
Coxwould, July 6, 1767.
IT is with as much true gratitude as ever heart felt, that I sit down to thank my dear friends Mr. and Mrs. J — for the continuation of their attention to me; but for this last instance of their humanity and politeness to me, I must ever be their debtor — I never can thank you enough, my dear friends, and yet I thank you from my soul — and for the single day’s happiness your goodness would have sent me, I wish I could send you back thousands — I cannot, but they will come of themselves — and so God bless you. — I have had twenty times my pen in my hand since I came down to write one letter to you both in Gerrard-street — but I am a shy kind of a soul at the bottom, and have a jealousy about troubling my friends, especially about myself. — I am now got perfectly well, but was a month after my arrival in the country in but a poor state — my body has got the start, and is at present more at ease than my mind — but this world is a school of trials, and so heaven’s will be done! — I hope you have both enjoyed all that I have wanted — and to compleat your joy, that your little lady flourishes like a vine at your table, to which I hope to see her preferred by next winter. — I am now beginning to be truly busy at my Sentimental Journey — the pains and sorrows of this life having retarded its progress — but I shall make up my lee-way, and overtake every body in a very short time. —
What can I send you that Yorkshire produces? tell me — I want to be of use to you, for I am, my dear friends, with the truest value and esteem,
your ever obliged, L. STERNE.
LETTER XCV. TO MR. P. AT PARIS.
York, July 20, 1767.
My dear P.
BE so kind as to forward what letters are arrived for Mrs. S. at your office by to-day’s post, or the next, and she will receive them before she quits Avignon, for England — she wants to lay out a little money in an annuity for her daughter — advise her to get her own life en
sured in London, lest my Lydia should die before her. — If there are any packets, send them with the ninth volume of Shandy, which she has failed of getting — she says she has drawn for fifty louis — when she leaves Paris, send by her my account. — Have you got me any French subscriptions, or subscriptions in France? — Present my kindest service to Miss P. I know her politeness and good nature will incline her to give Mrs. J. her advice about what she may venture to bring over. — I hope every thing goes on well, though never half so well as I wish. — God prosper you, my dear friend — Believe me most warmly
Yours, L. STERNE.
The sooner you send me the gold snuff box, the better— ’tis a present from my best friend.
LETTER XCVI. TO MR. AND MRS. J.
Coxwould, August 2, 1767.
MY dear friends Mr. and Mrs. J — are infinitely kind to me in sending now and then a letter to enquire after me — and to acquaint me how they are. — You cannot conceive, my dear lady, how truly I bear a part in your illness. — I wish Mr. J — would carry you to the south of France in pursuit of health — but why need I wish it when I know his affection will make him do that and ten times as much to prevent a return of those symptoms which alarmed him so much in the spring — Your politeness and humanity is always contriving to treat me agreeably, and what you promise next winter, will be perfectly so — but you must get well — and your little dear girl must be of the party with her parents and friends to give it a relish — I am sure you shew no partiality but what is natural and praise-worthy in behalf of your daughter, but I wonder my friends will not find her a play-fellow, and I both hope and advise them not to venture along through this warfare of life without two strings at least to their bow. — I had letters from France by last night’s post, by which (by some fatality) I find not one of my letters has reached Mrs. S — This gives me concern, as it wears the aspect of unkindness, which she by no means merits from me. — My wife and dear girl are coming to pay me a visit for a few months; I wish I may prevail with them to tarry longer. — You must permit me, dear Mrs. J. to make my Lydia known to you, if I can prevail with my wife to come and spend a little time in London, as she returns to France. — I expect a small parcel — may I trouble you before you write next to send to my lodgings to ask if there is any thing directed to me that you can enclose under cover? — I have but one excuse for this freedom which I am prompted to use from a persuasion that it is doing you pleasure to give you an opportunity of doing an obliging thing — and as to myself I rest satisfied, for ’tis only scoring up another debt of thanks to the millions I owe you both already — Receive a thousand and a thousand thanks, yes and with them ten thousand friendly wishes for all you wish in this world — May my friend Mr. J. continue bless’d with good health, and may his good lady get perfectly well, there being no woman’s health or comfort I so ardently pray for. — Adieu my dear friends — believe me most truly and faithfully yours,
L. STERNE.
P.S. In Eliza’s last letter dated from St. Jago she tells me, as she does you, that she is extremely ill — God protect her. — By this time surely she has set foot upon dry land at Madras — I heartily wish her well, and if Yorick was with her, he would tell her so — but he is cut off from this, by bodily absence — I am present with her in spirit however — but what is that you will say?
LETTER XCVII. TO J. H. S. ESQ.
Coxwould, August 11, 1767.
My dear H.
I Am glad all has passed with so much amity inter te & filium Marcum¦tuum, and that Madame has found grace in thy sight — All is well that ends well — and so much for moralizing upon it. I wish you could, or would, take up your parable, and prophecy as much good concerning me and my affairs. — Not one of my letters have got to Mrs. S — since the notification of her intentions, which has a pitiful air on my side, though I have wrote her six or seven. — I imagine she will be here the latter end of September, though I have no date for it, but her impatience, which having suffered by my supposed silence I am persuaded will make her fear the worst — if that is the case she will fly to England — a most natural conclusion. — You did well to discontinue all commerce with James’s powder — as you are so well, rejoice therefore, and let your heart be merry — mine ought upon the same score — for I never have been so well since I left college — and should be a marvellous happy man, but for some reflections which bow down my spirits — but if I live but even three or four years, I will acquit myself with honour — and — no matter! we will talk this over when we meet. — If all ends as temperately as with you, and that I find grace, &c. &c. I will come and sing Te Deum, or drink poculum elevatum, or do any thing with you in the world. — I should depend upon G— ‘s critick upon my head, as much as Moliere’s old woman upon his comedies — when you do not want her society let it be carried into your bedchamber to flay her, or clap it upon her bum — to — and give her my blessing as you do it —
My postillion has set me a-ground for a week by one of my pistols bursting in his hand, which he taking for granted to be quite shot off — he instantly fell upon his knees and said (Our Father, which art in Heaven, hallowed be thy Name) at which, like a good Christian, he stopped, not remembering any more of it — the affair was not so bad as he at first thought, for it has only bursten two of his fingers (he says). — I long to return to you, but I sit here alone as solitary and sad as a tom cat, which by the bye is all the company I keep — he follows me from the parlour, to the kitchen, into the garden, and every place — I wish I had a dog — my daughter will bring me one — and so God be about you, and strengthen your faith — I am affectionately, dear cousin, yours,
L. S.
My service to the C.... though they are from home, and to Panty.
LETTER XCVIII. TO MR. AND MRS. J.
Coxwould, August 13, 1767.
My dear Friends,
I But copy your great civility to me in writing you word, that I have this moment received another letter wrote eighteen days after the date of the last from St. Jago — If our poor friend could have wrote another letter to England, you would in course have had it — but I fear from the circumstance of great hurry and bodily disorder in which she was, when she dispatched this, she might not have time. — In case it has so fallen out, I send you the contents of what I have received — and that is a melancholy history of herself and sufferings, since they left St. Jago — continual and most violent rheumatism all the time — a fever brought on with fits, and attended with delirium, and every terrifying symptom — the recovery from this left her low and emaciated to a skeleton. — I give you the pain of this detail with a bleeding heart, knowing how much at the same time it will affect yours. — The three or four last days of her journal leave us with hopes she will do well at last, for she is more chearful — and seems to be getting into better spirits; and health will follow in course. They have crossed the line — are much becalmed, which with other delays she fears they will lose their passage to Madrass — and be some months sooner for it at Bombay. — Heav’n protect her, for she suffers much, and with uncommon fortitude. — She writes much to me about her dear friend Mrs. J — in her last packet. — In truth, my good lady, she loves and honours you from her heart, but if she did not, I should not esteem her, or wish her so well as I do. — Adieu, my dear friends — you have few in the world more truly and cordially
Yours, L. STERNE.
P.S. I have just received, as a present from a man I shall ever love, a most elegant gold snuff box, fabricated for me at Paris— ’tis not the first pledge I have received of his friendship. — May I presume to enclose you a letter of chit-chat which I shall write to Eliza? I know you will write yourself, and my letter may have the honour to chaperon yours to India — they will neither of them be the worse received for going together in company, but I fear they will get late in the year to their destined port, as they go first to Bengal.
LETTER XCIX. TO MISS S — .
Coxwould, August 24, 1767.
I Am trul
y surprised, my dear Lydia, that my last letter has not reached thy mother, and thyself — it looks most unkind on my part, after your having wrote me word of your mother’s intention of coming to England, that she has not received my letter to welcome you both — and though in that I said I wished you would defer your journey ‘till March, for before that time I should have published my sentimental work, and should be in town to receive you — yet I will shew you more real politesses than any you have met with in France, as mine will come warm from the heart. — I am sorry you are not here at the races, but les fêtes champêtres of the Marquis de Sade have made you amends. — I know B — very well, and he is what in France would be called admirable — that would be but so so here — You are right — he studies nature more than any, or rather most of the French comedians — If the Empress of Russia pays him and his wife a pension of twenty thousand livres a year, I think he is very well off. — The folly of staying ‘till after twelve for supper — that you two excommunicated beings might have meat! —
“his conscience would not let it be served before.”
— Surely the Marquis thought you both, being English, could not be satisfied without it. — I would have given not my gown and cassock (for I have but one) but my topaz ring to have seen the petits maitres et maitresses go to mass, after having spent the night in dancing. — As to my pleasures they are few in compass. — My poor cat sits purring beside me — your lively French dog shall have his place on the other side of my fire — but if he is as devilish as when I last saw him, I must tutor him, for I will not have my cat abused — in short I will have nothing devilish about me — a combustion would spoil a sentimental thought.
Complete Works of Laurence Sterne Page 111