Book + 

VII + 

I + 

NoвБ†вЄЇвБ†I think, I said, I would write two volumes every year, provided the vile cough which then tormented me, and which to this hour I dread worse than the devil, would but give me leaveвБ†вАФand in another placeвБ†вАФ(but where, I canвАЩt recollect now) speaking of my book as a machine, and laying my pen and ruler down crosswise upon the table, in order to gain the greater credit to itвБ†вАФI swore it should be kept a going at that rate these forty years, if it pleased but the fountain of life to bless me so long with health and good spirits. + 

Now as for my spirits, little have I to lay to their chargeвБ†вАФnay so very little (unless the mounting me upon a long stick and playing the fool with me nineteen hours out of the twenty-four, be accusations) that on the contrary, I have muchвБ†вАФmuch to thank вАЩem for: cheerily have ye made me tread the path of life with all the burdens of it (except its cares) upon my back; in no one moment of my existence, that I remember, have ye once deserted me, or tinged the objects which came in my way, either with sable, or with a sickly green; in dangers ye gilded my horizon with hope, and when Death himself knocked at my doorвБ†вАФye bad him come again; and in so gay a tone of careless indifference did ye do it, that he doubted of his commissionвБ†вЄЇвБ† + 

вАЬвБ†вАФThere must certainly be some mistake in this matter,вАЭ quoth he. + 

Now there is nothing in this world I abominate worse, than to be interrupted in a storyвБ†вЄЇвБ†and I was that moment telling Eugenius a most tawdry one in my way, of a nun who fancied herself a shellfish, and of a monk damnвАЩd for eating a muscle, and was showing him the grounds and justice of the procedureвБ†вЄЇвБ† + 

вАЬвБ†вАФDid ever so grave a personage get into so vile a scrape?вАЭ quoth Death. Thou hast had a narrow escape, Tristram, said Eugenius, taking hold of my hand as I finished my storyвБ†вЄЇвБ† + 

But there is no living, Eugenius, replied I, at this rate; for as this son of a whore has found out my lodgingsвБ†вЄЇвБ† + 

вАФYou call him rightly, said Eugenius,вБ†вАФfor by sin, we are told, he enterвАЩd the worldвБ†вЄЇвБ†I care not which way he enterвАЩd, quoth I, provided he be not in such a hurry to take me out with himвБ†вАФfor I have forty volumes to write, and forty thousand things to say and do which no body in the world will say and do for me, except thyself; and as thou seest he has got me by the throat (for Eugenius could scarce hear me speak across the table), and that I am no match for him in the open field, had I not better, whilst these few scatterвАЩd spirits remain, and these two spider legs of mine (holding one of them up to him) are able to support meвБ†вАФhad I not better, Eugenius, fly for my life? вАЩTis my advice, my dear Tristram, said EugeniusвБ†вАФThen by heaven! I will lead him a dance he little thinks ofвБ†вЄЇвБ†for I will gallop, quoth I, without looking once behind me, to the banks of the Garonne; and if I hear him clattering at my heelsвБ†вЄЇвБ†IвАЩll scamper away to mount VesuviusвБ†вЄЇвБ†from thence to Joppa, and from Joppa to the worldвАЩs end; where, if he follows me, I pray God he may break his neckвБ†вЄЇвБ† + 

вАФHe runs more risk there, said Eugenius, than thou. + 

EugeniusвАЩs wit and affection brought blood into the cheek from whence it had been some months banishвАЩdвБ†вЄЇвАЩtwas a vile moment to bid adieu in; he led me to my chaiseвБ†вЄЇвБ†Allons! said I; the postboy gave a crack with his whipвБ†вЄЇвБ†off I went like a cannon, and in half a dozen bounds got into Dover. + 

II + 

Now hang it! quoth I, as I lookвАЩd towards the French coastвБ†вАФa man should know something of his own country too, before he goes abroadвБ†вЄЇвБ†and I never gave a peep into Rochester church, or took notice of the dock of Chatham, or visited St.¬†Thomas at Canterbury, though they all three laid in my wayвБ†вЄЇвБ† + 

вАФBut mine, indeed, is a particular caseвБ†вЄЇвБ† + 

So without arguing the matter further with Thomas oвАЩ Becket, or anyone elseвБ†вАФI skipвАЩd into the boat, and in five minutes we got under sail, and scudded away like the wind. + 

Pray, captain, quoth I, as I was going down into the cabin, is a man never overtaken by Death in this passage? + 

Why, there is not time for a man to be sick in it, replied heвБ†вЄЇвБ†What a cursed liar! for I am sick as a horse, quoth I, alreadyвБ†вЄЇвБ†what a brain!вБ†вЄЇвБ†upside down!вБ†вЄЇвБ†heyday! the cells are broke loose one into another, and the blood, and the lymph, and the nervous juices, with the fixвАЩd and volatile salts, are all jumbled into one massвБ†вЄЇвБ†good GвБ†вЄЇ! everything turns round in it like a thousand whirlpoolsвБ†вЄЇвБ†IвАЩd give a shilling to know if I shanвАЩt write the clearer for itвБ†вЄЇвБ† + 

Sick! sick! sick! sick!вБ†вЄЇвБ† + 

вАФWhen shall we get to land? captainвБ†вАФthey have hearts like stonesвБ†вЄЇвБ†O I am deadly sick!вБ†вЄЇвБ†reach me that thing, boyвБ†вЄЇвАЩtis the most discomfiting sicknessвБ†вЄЇвБ†I wish I was at the bottomвБ†вАФMadam! how is it with you? Undone! undone! unвБ†вЄЇвБ†O! undone! sirвБ†вЄЇвБ†What the first time?вБ†вЄЇвБ†No, вАЩtis the second, third, sixth, tenth time, sir,вБ†вЄЇвБ†heyday!вБ†вАФwhat a trampling over head!вБ†вАФhollo! cabin boy! whatвАЩs the matter?вБ†вАФ + 

The wind choppвАЩd about! sвАЩDeath!вБ†вАФthen I shall meet him full in the face. + 

What luck!вБ†вАФвАЩtis choppвАЩd about again, masterвБ†вЄЇвБ†O the devil chop itвБ†вЄЇвБ† + 

Captain, quoth she, for heavenвАЩs sake, let us get ashore. + 

III + 

It is a great inconvenience to a man in a haste, that there are three distinct roads between Calais and Paris, in behalf of which there is so much to be said by the several deputies from the towns which lie along them, that half a day is easily lost in settling which youвАЩll take. + 

First, the road by Lisle and Arras, which is the most aboutвБ†вЄЇвБ†but most interesting and instructing. + 

The second, that by Amiens, which you may go, if you would see ChantillyвБ†вЄЇвБ† + 

And that by Beauvais, which you may go, if you will. + 

For this reason a great many choose to go by Beauvais. + 

IV + 

вАЬNow before I quit Calais,вАЭ a travel-writer would say, вАЬit would not be amiss to give some account of it.вАЭвБ†вАФNow I think it very much amissвБ†вАФthat a man cannot go quietly through a town and let it alone, when it does not meddle with him, but that he must be turning about and drawing his pen at every kennel he crosses over, merely oвАЩ my conscience for the sake of drawing it; because, if we may judge from what has been wrote of these things, by all who have wrote and gallopвАЩdвБ†вАФor who have gallopвАЩd and wrote, which is a different way still; or who, for more expedition than the rest, have wrote galloping, which is the way I do at presentвБ†вЄЇвБ†from the great Addison, who did it with his satchel of school books hanging at his aвБ†вЄЇ, and galling his beastвАЩs crupper at every strokeвБ†вАФthere is not a gallopper of us all who might not have gone on ambling quietly in his own ground (in case he had any), and have wrote all he had to write, dryshod, as well as not. + 

For my own part, as heaven is my judge, and to which I shall ever make my last appealвБ†вАФI know no more of Calais (except the little my barber told me of it as he was whetting his razor), than I do this moment of Grand Cairo; for it was dusky in the evening when I landed, and dark as pitch in the morning when I set out, and yet by merely knowing what is what, and by drawing this from that in one part of the town, and by spelling and putting this and that together in anotherвБ†вАФI would lay any travelling odds, that I this moment write a chapter upon Calais as long as my arm; and with so distinct and satisfactory a detail of every item, which is worth a strangerвАЩs curiosity in the townвБ†вАФthat you would take me for the town-clerk of Calais itselfвБ†вАФand where, sir, would be the wonder? was not Democritus, who laughed ten times more than IвБ†вАФtown-clerk of Abdera? and was not (I forget his name) who had more discretion than us both, town-clerk of Ephesus?вБ†вЄЇвБ†it should be pennвАЩd moreover, sir, with so much knowledge and good sense, and truth, and precisionвБ†вЄЇвБ† + 

вАФNayвБ†вАФif you donвАЩt believe me, you may read the chapter for your pains. + 

V + 

Calais, Calatium, Calusium, Calesium. + 

This town, if we may trust its archives, the authority of which I see no reason to call in question in this placeвБ†вАФwas once no more than a small village belonging to one of the first Counts de Guignes; and as it boasts at present of no less than fourteen thousand inhabitants, exclusive of four hundred and twenty distinct families in the basse ville, or suburbsвБ†вЄЇвБ†it must have grown up by little and little, I suppose, to its present size. + 

Though there are four convents, there is but one parochial church in the whole town; I had not an opportunity of taking its exact dimensions, but it is pretty easy to make a tolerable conjecture of вАЩemвБ†вАФfor as there are fourteen thousand inhabitants in the town, if the church holds them all it must be considerably largeвБ†вАФand if it will notвБ†вАФвАЩtis a very great pity they have not anotherвБ†вАФit is built in form of a cross, and dedicated to the Virgin Mary; the steeple, which has a spire to it, is placed in the middle of the church, and stands upon four pillars elegant and light enough, but sufficiently strong at the same timeвБ†вАФit is decorated with eleven altars, most of which are rather fine than beautiful. The great altar is a masterpiece in its kind; вАЩtis of white marble, and, as I was told, near sixty feet highвБ†вАФhad it been much higher, it had been as high as mount Calvary itselfвБ†вАФtherefore, I suppose it must be high enough in all conscience. + 

There was nothing struck me more than the great Square; though I cannot say вАЩtis either well paved or well built; but вАЩtis in the heart of the town, and most of the streets, especially those in that quarter, all terminate in it; could there have been a fountain in all Calais, which it seems there cannot, as such an object would have been a great ornament, it is not to be doubted, but that the inhabitants would have had it in the very centre of this square,вБ†вАФnot that it is properly a square,вБ†вАФbecause вАЩtis forty feet longer from east to west, than from north to south; so that the French in general have more reason on their side in calling them Places than Squares, which, strictly speaking, to be sure, they are not. + 

The town-house seems to be but a sorry building, and not to be kept in the best repair; otherwise it had been a second great ornament to this place; it answers however its destination, and serves very well for the reception of the magistrates, who assemble in it from time to time; so that вАЩtis presumable, justice is regularly distributed. + 

I have heard much of it, but there is nothing at all curious in the Courgain; вАЩtis a distinct quarter of the town, inhabited solely by sailors and fishermen; it consists of a number of small streets, neatly built and mostly of brick; вАЩtis extremely populous, but as that may be accounted for, from the principles of their diet,вБ†вАФthere is nothing curious in that neither.вБ†вЄЇвБ†A traveller may see it to satisfy himselfвБ†вАФhe must not omit however taking notice of La Tour de Guet, upon any account; вАЩtis so called from its particular destination, because in war it serves to discover and give notice of the enemies which approach the place, either by sea or land;вБ†вЄЇвБ†but вАЩtis monstrous high, and catches the eye so continually, you cannot avoid taking notice of it if you would. + 

It was a singular disappointment to me, that I could not have permission to take an exact survey of the fortifications, which are the strongest in the world, and which, from first to last, that is, from the time they were set about by Philip of France, Count of Boulogne, to the present war, wherein many reparations were made, have cost (as I learned afterwards from an engineer in Gascony)вБ†вАФabove a hundred millions of livres. It is very remarkable, that at the T√™te de Gravelenes, and where the town is naturally the weakest, they have expended the most money; so that the outworks stretch a great way into the campaign, and consequently occupy a large tract of groundвБ†вАФHowever, after all that is said and done, it must be acknowledged that Calais was never upon any account so considerable from itself, as from its situation, and that easy entrance which it gave our ancestors, upon all occasions, into France: it was not without its inconveniences also; being no less troublesome to the English in those times, than Dunkirk has been to us, in ours; so that it was deservedly looked upon as the key to both kingdoms, which no doubt is the reason that there have arisen so many contentions who should keep it: of these, the siege of Calais, or rather the blockade (for it was shut up both by land and sea), was the most memorable, as it withstood the efforts of Edward the Third a whole year, and was not terminated at last but by famine and extreme misery; the gallantry of Eustace de St.¬†Pierre, who first offered himself a victim for his fellow-citizens, has rankвАЩd his name with heroes. As it will not take up above fifty pages, it would be injustice to the reader, not to give him a minute account of that romantic transaction, as well as of the siege itself, in RapinвАЩs own words: + 

VI + 

вЄЇвБ†But courage! gentle reader!вБ†вЄЇвБ†I scorn itвБ†вЄЇвАЩtis enough to have thee in my powerвБ†вЄЇвБ†but to make use of the advantage which the fortune of the pen has now gained over thee, would be too muchвБ†вЄЇвБ†NoвБ†вЄЇ! by that all-powerful fire which warms the visionary brain, and lights the spirits through unwordly tracts! ere I would force a helpless creature upon this hard service, and make thee pay, poor soul! for fifty pages, which I have no right to sell thee,вБ†вЄЇвБ†naked as I am, I would browse upon the mountains, and smile that the north wind brought me neither my tent or my supper. + 

вАФSo put on, my brave boy! and make the best of thy way to Boulogne. + 

VII + 

вЄЇвБ†Boulogne!вБ†вЄЇвБ†hah!вБ†вЄЇвБ†so we are all got togetherвБ†вЄЇвБ†debtors and sinners before heaven; a jolly set of usвБ†вАФbut I canвАЩt stay and quaff it off with youвБ†вАФIвАЩm pursued myself like a hundred devils, and shall be overtaken, before I can well change horses:вБ†вЄЇвБ†for heavenвАЩs sake, make hasteвБ†вЄЇвАЩTis for high-treason, quoth a very little man, whispering as low as he could to a very tall man, that stood next himвБ†вЄЇвБ†Or else for murder; quoth the tall manвБ†вЄЇвБ†Well thrown, Size-ace! quoth I. No; quoth a third, the gentleman has been committingвБ†вЄЇ. + 

Ah! ma chere fille! said I, as she trippвАЩd by from her matinsвБ†вАФyou look as rosy as the morning (for the sun was rising, and it made the compliment the more gracious)вБ†вАФNo; it canвАЩt be that, quoth a fourthвБ†вЄЇ(she made a curtвАЩsy to meвБ†вАФI kissвАЩd my hand) вАЩtis debt, continued he: вАЩTis certainly for debt; quoth a fifth; I would not pay that gentlemanвАЩs debts, quoth Ace, for a thousand pounds; nor would I, quoth Size, for six times the sumвБ†вАФWell thrown, Size-ace, again! quoth I;вБ†вАФbut I have no debt but the debt of Nature, and I want but patience of her, and I will pay her every farthing I owe herвБ†вЄЇвБ†How can you be so hard-hearted, Madam, to arrest a poor traveller going along without molestation to anyone upon his lawful occasions? do stop that death-looking, long-striding scoundrel of a scare-sinner, who is posting after meвБ†вЄЇвБ†he never would have followed me but for youвБ†вЄЇвБ†if it be but for a stage or two, just to give me start of him, I beseech you, madamвБ†вЄЇвБ†do, dear ladyвБ†вЄЇвБ† + 

вЄЇвБ†Now, in troth, вАЩtis a great pity, quoth mine Irish host, that all this good courtship should be lost; for the young gentlewoman has been after going out of hearing of it all along.вБ†вЄЇвБ† + 

вЄЇвБ†Simpleton! quoth I. + 

вЄЇвБ†So you have nothing else in Boulogne worth seeing? + 

вАФBy Jasus! there is the finest Seminary for the HumanitiesвБ†вЄЇвБ† + 

вАФThere cannot be a finer; quoth I. + 

VIII + 

When the precipitancy of a manвАЩs wishes hurries on his ideas ninety times faster than the vehicle he rides inвБ†вАФwoe be to truth! and woe be to the vehicle and its tackling (let вАЩem be made of what stuff you will) upon which he breathes forth the disappointment of his soul! + 

As I never give general characters either of men or things in choler, вАЬthe most haste the worst speed,вАЭ was all the reflection I made upon the affair, the first time it happenвАЩd;вБ†вАФthe second, third, fourth, and fifth time, I confined it respectively to those times, and accordingly blamed only the second, third, fourth, and fifth postboy for it, without carrying my reflections further; but the event continuing to befall me from the fifth, to the sixth, seventh, eighth, ninth, and tenth time, and without one exception, I then could not avoid making a national reflection of it, which I do in these words; + 

That something is always wrong in a French post-chaise, upon first setting out. + 

Or the proposition may stand thus: + 

A French postilion has always to alight before he has got three hundred yards out of town. + 

WhatвАЩs wrong now?вБ†вЄЇвБ†Diable!вБ†вЄЇвБ†a ropeвАЩs broke!вБ†вЄЇвБ†a knot has slipt!вБ†вЄЇвБ†a stapleвАЩs drawn!вБ†вЄЇвБ†a boltвАЩs to whittle!вБ†вЄЇвБ†a tag, a rag, a jag, a strap, a buckle, or a buckleвАЩs tongue, want altering. + 

Now true as all this is, I never think myself impowered to excommunicate thereupon either the post-chaise, or its driverвБ†вЄЇвБ†nor do I take it into my head to swear by the living GвБ†вЄЇ, I would rather go afoot ten thousand timesвБ†вЄЇвБ†or that I will be damnвАЩd, if ever I get into anotherвБ†вЄЇвБ†but I take the matter coolly before me, and consider, that some tag, or rag, or jag, or bolt, or buckle, or buckleвАЩs tongue, will ever be a wanting, or want altering, travel where I willвБ†вАФso I never chaff, but take the good and the bad as they fall in my road, and get on:вБ†вЄЇвБ†Do so, my lad! said I; he had lost five minutes already, in alighting in order to get at a luncheon of black bread, which he had crammвАЩd into the chaise-pocket, and was remounted, and going leisurely on, to relish it the betterвБ†вЄЇвБ†Get on, my lad, said I, brisklyвБ†вАФbut in the most persuasive tone imaginable, for I jingled a four-and-twenty sous piece against the glass, taking care to hold the flat side towards him, as he lookвАЩd back: the dog grinnвАЩd intelligence from his right ear to his left, and behind his sooty muzzle discovered such a pearly row of teeth, that Sovereignty would have pawnвАЩd her jewels for them.вБ†вЄЇвБ† + 

Just heaven! + 

{ + 

What masticators!вБ†вАФ + 

What bread!вБ†вАФ + 

and so as he finished the last mouthful of it, we entered the town of Montreuil. + 

IX + 

There is not a town in all France, which, in my opinion, looks better in the map, than Montreuil;вБ†вЄЇвБ†I own, it does not look so well in the book of post-roads; but when you come to see itвБ†вАФto be sure it looks most pitifully. + 

There is one thing, however, in it at present very handsome; and that is, the innkeeperвАЩs daughter: She has been eighteen months at Amiens, and six at Paris, in going through her classes; so knits, and sews, and dances, and does the little coquetries very well.вБ†вЄЇвБ† + 

вАФA slut! in running them over within these five minutes that I have stood looking at her, she has let fall at least a dozen loops in a white thread stockingвБ†вЄЇвБ†yes, yesвБ†вАФI see, you cunning gipsy!вБ†вАФвАЩtis long and taperвБ†вАФyou need not pin it to your kneeвБ†вАФand that вАЩtis your ownвБ†вАФand fits you exactly.вБ†вЄЇвБ† + 

вЄЇвБ†That Nature should have told this creature a word about a statueвАЩs thumb! + 

вАФBut as this sample is worth all their thumbsвБ†вЄЇвБ†besides, I have her thumbs and fingers in at the bargain, if they can be any guide to me,вБ†вАФand as Janatone withal (for that is her name) stands so well for a drawingвБ†вЄЇвБ†may I never draw more, or rather may I draw like a draught-horse, by main strength all the days of my life,вБ†вАФif I do not draw her in all her proportions, and with as determined a pencil, as if I had her in the wettest drapery.вБ†вЄЇвБ† + 

вАФBut your worships choose rather that I give you the length, breadth, and perpendicular height of the great parish-church, or drawing of the fa√Іade of the abbey of Saint Austerberte which has been transported from Artois hitherвБ†вАФeverything is just I suppose as the masons and carpenters left them,вБ†вАФand if the belief in Christ continues so long, will be so these fifty years to comeвБ†вАФso your worships and reverences may all measure them at your leisuresвБ†вЄЇвБ†but he who measures thee, Janatone, must do it nowвБ†вАФthou carriest the principles of change within thy frame; and considering the chances of a transitory life, I would not answer for thee a moment; ere twice twelve months are passed and gone, thou mayest grow out like a pumpkin, and lose thy shapesвБ†вЄЇвБ†or thou mayest go off like a flower, and lose thy beautyвБ†вАФnay, thou mayest go off like a hussyвБ†вАФand lose thyself.вБ†вАФI would not answer for my aunt Dinah, was she aliveвБ†вЄЇвАЩfaith, scarce for her pictureвБ†вЄЇвБ†were it but painted by ReynoldsвБ†вАФ + 

But if I go on with my drawing, after naming that son of Apollo, IвАЩll be shotвБ†вЄЇвБ† + 

So you must eвАЩen be content with the original; which, if the evening is fine in passing throвАЩ Montreuil, you will see at your chaise-door, as you change horses: but unless you have as bad a reason for haste as I haveвБ†вАФyou had better stop:вБ†вЄЇвБ†She has a little of the devote: but that, sir, is a terce to a nine in your favourвБ†вЄї + 

вАФLвБ†вАФhelp me! I could not count a single point: so had been piqued and repiqued, and capotted to the devil. + 

X + 

All which being considered, and that Death moreover might be much nearer me than I imaginedвБ†вЄЇвБ†I wish I was at Abbeville, quoth I, were it only to see how they card and spinвБ†вЄЇвБ†so off we set. + 

de Montreuil √† Nampont + 

poste et demi + 

de Nampont √† Bernay + 

poste + 

de Bernay √† Nouvion + 

poste + 

de Nouvion √† Abbeville + 

poste + 

вЄЇвБ†but the carders and spinners were all gone to bed. + 

XI + 

What a vast advantage is travelling! only it heats one; but there is a remedy for that, which you may pick out of the next chapter. + 

XII + 

Was I in a condition to stipulate with Death, as I am this moment with my apothecary, how and where I will take his clysterвБ†вЄЇвБ†I should certainly declare against submitting to it before my friends; and therefore I never seriously think upon the mode and manner of this great catastrophe, which generally takes up and torments my thoughts as much as the catastrophe itself; but I constantly draw the curtain across it with this wish, that the Disposer of all things may so order it, that it happen not to me in my own houseвБ†вЄЇвБ†but rather in some decent innвБ†вЄЇвБ†at home, I know it,вБ†вЄЇвБ†the concern of my friends, and the last services of wiping my brows, and smoothing my pillow, which the quivering hand of pale affection shall pay me, will so crucify my soul; that I shall die of a distemper which my physician is not aware of: but in an inn, the few cold offices I wanted, would be purchased with a few guineas, and paid me with an undisturbed, but punctual attentionвБ†вЄЇвБ†but mark. This inn should not be the inn at AbbevilleвБ†вЄЇвБ†if there was not another inn in the universe, I would strike that inn out of the capitulation: so + 

Let the horses be in the chaise exactly by four in the morningвБ†вЄЇвБ†Yes, by four, Sir,вБ†вЄЇвБ†or by Genevieve! IвАЩll raise a clatter in the house shall wake the dead. + 

XIII + 

вАЬMake them like unto a wheel,вАЭ is a bitter sarcasm, as all the learned know, against the grand tour, and that restless spirit for making it, which David prophetically foresaw would haunt the children of men in the latter days; and therefore, as thinketh the great bishop Hall, вАЩtis one of the severest imprecations which David ever utterвАЩd against the enemies of the LordвБ†вАФand, as if he had said, вАЬI wish them no worse luck than always to be rolling aboutвАЭвБ†вАФSo much motion, continues he (for he was very corpulent)вБ†вАФis so much unquietness; and so much of rest, by the same analogy, is so much of heaven. + 

Now, I (being very thin) think differently; and that so much of motion, is so much of life, and so much of joyвБ†вЄЇвБ†and that to stand still, or get on but slowly, is death and the devilвБ†вЄЇвБ† + 

Hollo! Ho!вБ†вЄЇвБ†the whole worldвАЩs asleep!вБ†вЄЇвБ†bring out the horsesвБ†вЄЇвБ†grease the wheelsвБ†вАФtie on the mailвБ†вЄЇвБ†and drive a nail into that mouldingвБ†вЄЇвБ†IвАЩll not lose a momentвБ†вЄЇвБ† + 

Now the wheel we are talking of, and whereinto (but not whereunto, for that would make an IxionвАЩs wheel of it) he curseth his enemies, according to the bishopвАЩs habit of body, should certainly be a post-chaise wheel, whether they were set up in Palestine at that time or notвБ†вЄЇвБ†and my wheel, for the contrary reasons, must as certainly be a cartwheel groaning round its revolution once in an age; and of which sort, were I to turn commentator, I should make no scruple to affirm, they had great store in that hilly country. + 

I love the Pythagoreans (much more than ever I dare tell my dear Jenny) for their вАЬѕЗѕЙѕБќєѕГќЉбљЄќљ бЉАѕАбљЄ ѕДќњбњ¶ ќ£ѕОќЉќ±ѕДќњѕВ, ќµбЉ∞ѕВ ѕДбљЄ ќЇќ±ќїбњґѕВ ѕЖќєќїќњѕГќњѕЖќµбњЦќљвАЭвБ†вЄЇ[their] вАЬgetting out of the body, in order to think well.вАЭ No man thinks right, whilst he is in it; blinded as he must be, with his congenial humours, and drawn differently aside, as the bishop and myself have been, with too lax or too tense a fibreвБ†вЄЇвБ†Reason is, half of it, Sense; and the measure of heaven itself is but the measure of our present appetites and concoctionsвБ†вЄЇвБ† + 

вЄЇвБ†But which of the two, in the present case, do you think to be mostly in the wrong? + 

You, certainly: quoth she, to disturb a whole family so early. + 

XIV + 

вЄЇвБ†But she did not know I was under a vow not to shave my beard till I got to Paris;вБ†вЄЇвБ†yet I hate to make mysteries of nothing;вБ†вЄЇвАЩtis the cold cautiousness of one of those little souls from which Lessius (lib. 13, de moribus divinis, cap.¬†24) hath made his estimate, wherein he setteth forth, That one Dutch mile, cubically multiplied, will allow room enough, and to spare, for eight hundred thousand millions, which he supposes to be as great a number of souls (counting from the fall of Adam) as can possibly be damnвАЩd to the end of the world. + 

From what he has made this second estimateвБ†вЄЇвБ†unless from the parental goodness of GodвБ†вАФI donвАЩt knowвБ†вАФI am much more at a loss what could be in Franciscus RibberaвАЩs head, who pretends that no less a space than one of two hundred Italian miles multiplied into itself, will be sufficient to hold the like numberвБ†вЄЇвБ†he certainly must have gone upon some of the old Roman souls, of which he had read, without reflecting how much, by a gradual and most tabid decline, in the course of eighteen hundred years, they must unavoidably have shrunk so as to have come, when he wrote, almost to nothing. + 

In LessiusвАЩs time, who seems the cooler man, they were as little as can be imaginedвБ†вЄЇвБ† + 

вЄЇвБ†We find them less nowвБ†вЄЇвБ† + 

And next winter we shall find them less again; so that if we go on from little to less, and from less to nothing, I hesitate not one moment to affirm, that in half a century, at this rate, we shall have no souls at all; which being the period beyond which I doubt likewise of the existence of the Christian faith, вАЩtwill be one advantage that both of вАЩem will be exactly worn out together. + 

Blessed Jupiter! and blessed every other heathen god and goddess! for now ye will all come into play again, and with Priapus at your tailsвБ†вЄЇвБ†what jovial times!вБ†вЄЇвБ†but where am I? and into what a delicious riot of things am I rushing? IвБ†вЄЇвБ†I who must be cut short in the midst of my days, and taste no more of вАЩem than what I borrow from my imaginationвБ†вЄЇвБ†peace to thee, generous fool! and let me go on. + 

XV + 

вЄївАЬSo hating, I say, to make mysteries of nothingвАЭвБ†вЄЇвБ†I entrusted it with the postboy, as soon as ever I got off the stones; he gave a crack with his whip to balance the compliment; and with the thill-horse trotting, and a sort of an up and a down of the other, we danced it along to Ailly au clochers, famed in days of yore for the finest chimes in the world; but we danced through it without musicвБ†вАФthe chimes being greatly out of orderвБ†вАФ(as in truth they were through all France). + 

And so making all possible speed, from + 

Ailly au clochers, I got to Hixcourt, + 

from Hixcourt, I got to Pequignay, and + 

from Pequignay, I got to Amiens, + 

concerning which town I have nothing to inform you, but what I have informed you once beforeвБ†вЄЇвБ†and that wasвБ†вАФthat Janatone went there to school. + 

XVI + 

In the whole catalogue of those whiffling vexations which come puffing across a manвАЩs canvass, there is not one of a more teasing and tormenting nature, than this particular one which I am going to describeвБ†вЄЇвБ†and for which (unless you travel with an avance-courier, which numbers do in order to prevent it)вБ†вЄЇвБ†there is no help: and it is this. + 

That be you in never so kindly a propensity to sleepвБ†вЄЇвБ†though you are passing perhaps through the finest countryвБ†вАФupon the best roads, and in the easiest carriage for doing it in the worldвБ†вЄЇвБ†nay, was you sure you could sleep fifty miles straight forwards, without once opening your eyesвБ†вАФnay, what is more, was you as demonstratively satisfied as you can be of any truth in Euclid, that you should upon all accounts be full as well asleep as awakeвБ†вЄЇвБ†nay, perhaps betterвБ†вЄЇвБ†Yet the incessant returns of paying for the horses at every stage,вБ†вЄЇвБ†with the necessity thereupon of putting your hand into your pocket, and counting out from thence three livres fifteen sous (sous by sous), puts an end to so much of the project, that you cannot execute above six miles of it (or supposing it is a post and a half, that is but nine)вБ†вЄЇвБ†were it to save your soul from destruction. + 

вАФIвАЩll be even with вАЩem, quoth I, for IвАЩll put the precise sum into a piece of paper, and hold it ready in my hand all the way: вАЬNow I shall have nothing to do,вАЭ said I (composing myself to rest), вАЬbut to drop this gently into the postboyвАЩs hat, and not say a word.вАЭвБ†вЄЇвБ†Then there wants two sous more to drinkвБ†вЄЇвБ†or there is a twelve sous piece of Louis XIV which will not passвБ†вАФor a livre and some odd liards to be brought over from the last stage, which Monsieur had forgot; which altercations (as a man cannot dispute very well asleep) rouse him: still is sweet sleep retrievable; and still might the flesh weigh down the spirit, and recover itself of these blowsвБ†вАФbut then, by heaven! you have paid but for a single postвБ†вАФwhereas вАЩtis a post and a half; and this obliges you to pull out your book of post-roads, the print of which is so very small, it forces you to open your eyes, whether you will or no: Then Monsieur le Cur√© offers you a pinch of snuffвБ†вЄЇвБ†or a poor soldier shows you his legвБ†вЄЇвБ†or a shaveling his boxвБ†вЄЇвБ†or the priestess of the cistern will water your wheelsвБ†вЄЇвБ†they do not want itвБ†вЄЇвБ†but she swears by her priesthood (throwing it back) that they do:вБ†вЄЇвБ†then you have all these points to argue, or consider over in your mind; in doing of which, the rational powers get so thoroughly awakenedвБ†вЄЇвБ†you may get вАЩem to sleep again as you can. + 

It was entirely owing to one of these misfortunes, or I had passвАЩd clean by the stables of ChantillyвБ†вЄЇвБ† + 

вЄЇвБ†But the postilion first affirming, and then persisting in it to my face, that there was no mark upon the two sous piece, I openвАЩd my eyes to be convincedвБ†вАФand seeing the mark upon it as plain as my noseвБ†вАФI leapвАЩd out of the chaise in a passion, and so saw everything at Chantilly in spite.вБ†вЄЇвБ†I tried it but for three posts and a half, but believe вАЩtis the best principle in the world to travel speedily upon; for as few objects look very inviting in that moodвБ†вАФyou have little or nothing to stop you; by which means it was that I passed through St.¬†Dennis, without turning my head so much as on one side towards the AbbyвБ†вЄЇвБ† + 

вЄЇвБ†Richness of their treasury! stuff and nonsense!вБ†вЄЇвБ†bating their jewels, which are all false, I would not give three sous for any one thing in it, but JaidasвАЩs lanternвБ†вЄЇвБ†nor for that either, only as it grows dark, it might be of use. + 

XVII + 

Crack, crackвБ†вЄЇвБ†crack, crackвБ†вЄЇвБ†crack, crackвБ†вЄЇвБ†so this is Paris! quoth I (continuing in the same mood)вБ†вАФand this is Paris!вБ†вЄЇвБ†humph!вБ†вЄЇвБ†Paris! cried I, repeating the name the third timeвБ†вЄЇвБ† + 

The first, the finest, the most brilliantвБ†вЄЇвБ† + 

The streets however are nasty. + 

But it looks, I suppose, better than it smellsвБ†вЄЇвБ†crack, crackвБ†вЄЇвБ†crack, crackвБ†вЄЇвБ†what a fuss thou makest!вБ†вАФas if it concerned the good people to be informed, that a man with pale face and clad in black, had the honour to be driven into Paris at nine oвАЩclock at night, by a postilion in a tawny yellow jerkin, turned up with red calamancoвБ†вАФcrack, crackвБ†вЄЇвБ†crack, crackвБ†вЄЇвБ†crack, crack,вБ†вЄЇвБ†I wish thy whipвБ†вЄЇвБ† + 

вЄЇвБ†But вАЩtis the spirit of thy nation; so crackвБ†вАФcrack on. + 

Ha!вБ†вЄЇвБ†and no one gives the wall!вБ†вЄЇвБ†but in the School of Urbanity herself, if the walls are besh-tвБ†вАФhow can you do otherwise? + 

And prithee when do they light the lamps? What?вБ†вАФnever in the summer months!вБ†вЄЇвБ†Ho! вАЩtis the time of sallads.вБ†вЄЇвБ†O rare! sallad and soupвБ†вАФsoup and salladвБ†вАФsallad and soup, encoreвБ†вЄЇвБ† + 

вЄЇвАЩTis too much for sinners. + 

Now I cannot bear the barbarity of it; how can that unconscionable coachman talk so much bawdy to that lean horse? donвАЩt you see, friend, the streets are so villainously narrow, that there is not room in all Paris to turn a wheelbarrow? In the grandest city of the whole world, it would not have been amiss, if they had been left a thought wider; nay, were it only so much in every single street, as that a man might know (was it only for satisfaction) on which side of it he was walking. + 

OneвБ†вАФtwoвБ†вАФthreeвБ†вАФfourвБ†вАФfiveвБ†вАФsixвБ†вАФsevenвБ†вАФeightвБ†вАФnineвБ†вАФten.вБ†вАФTen cookвАЩs shops! and twice the number of barbers! and all within three minutes driving! one would think that all the cooks in the world, on some great merry-meeting with the barbers, by joint consent had saidвБ†вАФCome, let us all go live at Paris: the French love good eatingвБ†вЄЇвБ†they are all gourmandsвБ†вЄЇвБ†we shall rank high; if their god is their bellyвБ†вЄЇвБ†their cooks must be gentlemen: and forasmuch as the periwig maketh the man, and the periwig-maker maketh the periwigвБ†вАФergo, would the barbers say, we shall rank higher stillвБ†вАФwe shall be above you allвБ†вАФwe shall be Capitouls at leastвБ†вАФpardi! we shall all wear swordsвБ†вЄЇвБ† + 

вАФAnd so, one would swear (that is, by candle light,вБ†вАФbut there is no depending upon it) they continue to do, to this day. + 

XVIII + 

The French are certainly misunderstood:вБ†вЄЇвБ†but whether the fault is theirs, in not sufficiently explaining themselves; or speaking with that exact limitation and precision which one would expect on a point of such importance, and which, moreover, is so likely to be contested by usвБ†вЄЇвБ†or whether the fault may not be altogether on our side, in not understanding their language always so critically as to know вАЬwhat they would be atвАЭвБ†вЄЇвБ†I shall not decide; but вАЩtis evident to me, when they affirm, вАЬThat they who have seen Paris, have seen everything,вАЭ they must mean to speak of those who have seen it by daylight. + 

As for candlelightвБ†вАФI give it upвБ†вЄЇвБ†I have said before, there was no depending upon itвБ†вАФand I repeat it again; but not because the lights and shades are too sharpвБ†вАФor the tints confoundedвБ†вАФor that there is neither beauty or keeping, etcвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ for thatвАЩs not truthвБ†вАФbut it is an uncertain light in this respect, That in all the five hundred grand H√іtels, which they number up to you in ParisвБ†вАФand the five hundred good things, at a modest computation (for вАЩtis only allowing one good thing to a H√іtel), which by candlelight are best to be seen, felt, heard, and understood (which, by the by, is a quotation from Lilly)вБ†вЄЇвБ†the devil a one of us out of fifty, can get our heads fairly thrust in amongst them. + 

This is no part of the French computation: вАЩtis simply this, + 

That by the last survey taken in the year one thousand seven hundred and sixteen, since which time there have been considerable argumentations, Paris doth contain nine hundred streets; (viz.) + 

In the quarter called the CityвБ†вАФthere are fifty-three streets. + 

In St.¬†James of the Shambles, fifty-five streets. + 

In St.¬†Oportune, thirty-four streets. + 

In the quarter of the Louvre, twenty-five streets. + 

In the Palace Royal, or St.¬†Honorius, forty-nine streets. + 

In Mont. Martyr, forty-one streets. + 

In St.¬†Eustace, twenty-nine streets. + 

In the Halles, twenty-seven streets. + 

In St.¬†Dennis, fifty-five streets. + 

In St.¬†Martin, fifty-four streets. + 

In St.¬†Paul, or the Mortellerie, twenty-seven streets. + 

The Greve, thirty-eight streets. + 

In St.¬†Avoy, or the Verrerie, nineteen streets. + 

In the Marais, or the Temple, fifty-two streets. + 

In St.¬†AntonyвАЩs, sixty-eight streets. + 

In the Place Maubert, eighty-one streets. + 

In St.¬†Bennet, sixty streets. + 

In St.¬†Andrews de Arcs, fifty-one streets. + 

In the quarter of the Luxembourg, sixty-two streets. + 

And in that of St.¬†Germain, fifty-five streets, into any of which you may walk; and that when you have seen them with all that belongs to them, fairly by daylightвБ†вАФtheir gates, their bridges, their squares, their statues - - - and have crusaded it moreover, through all their parish-churches, by no means omitting St.¬†Roche and Sulpice - - - and to crown all, have taken a walk to the four palaces, which you may see, either with or without the statues and pictures, just as you chooseвБ†вАФ + 

вЄЇвБ†Then you will have seenвБ†вЄЇвБ† + 

вЄЇвБ†but, вАЩtis what no one needeth to tell you, for you will read of it yourself upon the portico of the Louvre, in these words, + 

Earth no such folks!вБ†вАФNo folks eвАЩer such a town + 

As Paris is!вБ†вАФSing, derry, derry, down. + 

The French have a gay way of treating everything that is Great; and that is all can be said upon it. + 

XIX + 

In mentioning the word gay (as in the close of the last chapter) it puts one (i.e. an author) in mind of the word spleenвБ†вЄЇвБ†especially if he has anything to say upon it: not that by any analysisвБ†вАФor that from any table of interest or genealogy, there appears much more ground of alliance betwixt them, than betwixt light and darkness, or any two of the most unfriendly opposites in natureвБ†вЄЇвБ†only вАЩtis an undercraft of authors to keep up a good understanding amongst words, as politicians do amongst menвБ†вАФnot knowing how near they may be under a necessity of placing them to each otherвБ†вЄЇвБ†which point being now gainвАЩd, and that I may place mine exactly to my mind, I write it down hereвБ†вАФ + 

Spleen + 

This, upon leaving Chantilly, I declared to be the best principle in the world to travel speedily upon; but I gave it only as matter of opinion. I still continue in the same sentimentsвБ†вАФonly I had not then experience enough of its working to add this, that though you do get on at a tearing rate, yet you get on but uneasily to yourself at the same time; for which reason I here quit it entirely, and forever, and вАЩtis heartily at anyoneвАЩs serviceвБ†вАФit has spoiled me the digestion of a good supper, and brought on a bilious diarrh≈Уa, which has brought me back again to my first principle on which I set outвБ†вЄЇвБ†and with which I shall now scamper it away to the banks of the GaronneвБ†вАФ + 

вЄЇвБ†No;вБ†вЄЇвБ†I cannot stop a moment to give you the character of the peopleвБ†вАФtheir geniusвБ†вЄЇвБ†their mannersвБ†вАФtheir customsвБ†вАФtheir lawsвБ†вЄЇвБ†their religionвБ†вАФtheir governmentвБ†вАФtheir manufacturesвБ†вАФtheir commerceвБ†вАФtheir 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 reflectionsвБ†вЄЇвБ† + 

StillвБ†вАФstill I must awayвБ†вЄЇвБ†the roads are pavedвБ†вАФthe posts are shortвБ†вАФthe days are longвБ†вАФвАЩtis no more than noonвБ†вАФI shall be at Fontainbleau before the kingвБ†вЄЇвБ† + 

вАФWas he going there? not that I knowвБ†вЄЇвБ† + 

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 themвБ†вАФand then consider their puny horses, with the very little they give themвБ†вАФвАЩtis a wonder they get on at all: their suffering is most unchristian, and вАЩtis 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 questionвБ†вАФthey must be told him plainly, and with the most distinct articulation, or it will answer no endвБ†вАФand yet to do it in that plain wayвБ†вАФthough their reverences may laugh at it in the bedchamberвБ†вАФfell 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 meвБ†вАФI might not dissatisfy the other which he keeps to himself. + 

вЄЇвБ†My ink burns my finger to tryвБ†вЄЇвБ†and when I haveвБ†вЄЇвАЩtwill have a worse consequenceвБ†вЄЇвБ†it will burn (I fear) my paper. + 

вЄЇвБ†No;вБ†вЄЇвБ†I dare notвБ†вЄЇвБ† + 

But if you wish to know how the abbess of Ando√Љillets and a novice of her convent got over the difficulty (only first wishing myself all imaginable success)вБ†вАФIвАЩll tell you without the least scruple. + 

XXI + 

The abbess of Ando√Љillets, 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 remedyвБ†вЄЇвБ†first, prayers and thanksgiving; then invocations to all the saints in heaven promiscuouslyвБ†вЄЇвБ†then particularly to every saint who had ever had a stiff leg, before herвБ†вЄЇвБ†then touching it with all the relics of the convent, principally with the thighbone of the man of Lystra, who had been impotent from his youthвБ†вЄЇвБ†then wrapping it up in her veil when she went to bedвБ†вАФthen crosswise her rosaryвБ†вАФthen bringing in to her aid the secular arm, and anointing it with oils and hot fat of animalsвБ†вЄЇвБ†then treating it with emollient and resolving fomentationsвБ†вЄЇвБ†then with poultices of marsh-mallows, mallows, bonus Henricus, white lillies and fenugreekвБ†вАФthen taking the woods, I mean the smoak of вАЩem, holding her scapulary across her lapвБ†вЄЇвБ†then decoctions of wild chicory, water-cresses, chervil, sweet cecily and cochleariaвБ†вЄЇвБ†and nothing all this while answering, was prevailed on at last to try the hot baths of BourbonвБ†вЄЇвБ†so having first obtainвАЩd leave of the visitor-general to take care of her existenceвБ†вАФshe 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 abbessвАЩs cast poultices, etc.вБ†вАФhad 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 sunвБ†вАФthe gardener of the convent being chosen muleteerвБ†вАФled 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 unravelledвБ†вЄЇвБ†the under-gardener dressвАЩd the muleteerвАЩs hat in hot wine-leesвБ†вЄЇвБ†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.вБ†вЄЇвБ† + 

вЄЇвБ†The carpenter and the smith of Ando√Љillets held a council of wheels; and by seven, the morning after, all lookвАЩd spruce, and was ready at the gate of the convent for the hot-baths of BourbonвБ†вАФtwo rows of the unfortunate stood ready there an hour before. + 

The abbess of Ando√Љillets, supported by Margarita the novice, advanced slowly to the calesh, both clad in white, with their black rosaries hanging at their breastsвБ†вЄЇвБ† + 

вЄЇвБ†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 lookвАЩd upвБ†вАФeach (the sciatical poor nun excepted)вБ†вАФeach streamвАЩd out the end of her veil in the airвБ†вАФthen kissвАЩd the lilly hand which let it go: the good abbess and Margarita laid their hands saint-wise upon their breastsвБ†вАФlookвАЩd up to heavenвБ†вАФthen to themвБ†вАФand lookвАЩd вАЬGod bless you, dear sisters.вАЭ + 

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, toping kind of a fellow, who troubled his head very little with the hows and whens of life; so had mortgaged a month of his conventical wages in a borrachio, or leathern cask of wine, which he had disposed behind the calesh, with a large russet-coloured riding-coat over it, to guard it from the sun; and as the weather was hot, and he not a niggard of his labours, walking ten times more than he rodeвБ†вАФhe found more occasions than those of nature, to fall back to the rear of his carriage; till by frequent coming and going, it had so happenвАЩd, that all his wine had leakвАЩd out at the legal vent of the borrachio, before one half of the journey was finishвАЩd. + 

Man is a creature born to habitudes. The day had been sultryвБ†вАФthe evening was deliciousвБ†вАФthe wine was generousвБ†вАФthe Burgundian hill on which it grew was steepвБ†вАФa little tempting bush over the door of a cool cottage at the foot of it, hung vibrating in full harmony with the passionsвБ†вАФa gentle air rustled distinctly through the leavesвБ†вАФвАЬComeвБ†вАФcome, thirsty muleteerвБ†вАФcome in.вАЭ + 

вАФThe muleteer was a son of Adam; I need not say a word more. He gave the mules, each of вАЩem, a sound lash, and looking in the abbessвАЩs and MargaritaвАЩs faces (as he did it)вБ†вАФas much as to say вАЬhere I amвАЭвБ†вАФhe gave a second good crackвБ†вАФas much as to say to his mules, вАЬget onвАЭвБ†вЄЇвБ†so slinking behind, he enterвАЩd the little inn at the foot of the hill. + 

The muleteer, as I told you, was a little, joyous, chirping fellow, who thought not of tomorrow, nor of what had gone before, or what was to follow it, provided he got but his scantling of Burgundy, and a little chitchat along with it; so entering into a long conversation, as how he was chief gardener to the convent of Ando√Љillets, etc. etc., and out of friendship for the abbess and Mademoiselle Margarita, who was only in her noviciate, he had come along with them from the confines of Savoy, etc. etc.вБ†вАФand as how she had got a white swelling by her devotionsвБ†вАФand what a nation of herbs he had procured to mollify her humours, etc. etc., and that if the waters of Bourbon did not mend that legвБ†вАФshe might as well be lame of bothвБ†вАФetc. etc. etc.вБ†вАФHe so contrived his story, as absolutely to forget the heroine of itвБ†вАФand with her the little novice, and what was a more ticklish point to be forgot than bothвБ†вАФthe two mules; who being creatures that take advantage of the world, inasmuch as their parents took it of themвБ†вАФand they not being in a condition to return the obligation downwards (as men and women and beasts are)вБ†вАФthey do it sideways, and longways, and back-waysвБ†вАФand up hill, and down hill, and which way they can.вБ†вЄїPhilosophers, with all their ethicks, have never considered this rightlyвБ†вАФhow should the poor muleteer, then in his cups, consider it at all? he did not in the leastвБ†вАФвАЩtis time we do; let us leave him then in the vortex of his element, the happiest and most thoughtless of mortal menвБ†вЄЇвБ†and for a moment let us look after the mules, the abbess, and Margarita. + 

By virtue of the muleteerвАЩs two last strokes the mules had gone quietly on, following their own consciences up the hill, till they had conquerвАЩd about one half of it; when the elder of them, a shrewd crafty old devil, at the turn of an angle, giving a side glance, and no muleteer behind themвБ†вЄЇвБ† + 

By my fig! said she, swearing, IвАЩll go no furtherвБ†вЄЇвБ†And if I do, replied the other, they shall make a drum of my hide.вБ†вЄЇвБ† + 

And so with one consent they stoppвАЩd thusвБ†вЄЇвБ† + 

XXII + 

вЄЇвБ†Get on with you, said the abbess. + 

вЄЇвБ†Wh - - - - yshвБ†вЄЇвБ†yshвБ†вЄЇвБ†cried Margarita. + 

Sh - - - aвБ†вЄЇвБ†suh - uвБ†вЄЇвБ†shu - - uвБ†вАФsh - - awвБ†вЄЇвБ†shawвАЩd the abbess. + 

вЄЇвБ†WhuвБ†вАФvвБ†вАФwвБ†вЄЇвБ†whewвБ†вАФwвБ†вАФwвБ†вАФwhuvвАЩd Margarita pursing up her sweet lips betwixt a hoot and a whistle. + 

ThumpвБ†вАФthumpвБ†вАФthumpвБ†вАФobstreperated the abbess of Ando√Љillets with the end of her gold-headed cane against the bottom of the caleshвБ†вЄЇвБ† + 

The old mule let a fвБ†вЄЇвБ† + 

XXIII + 

We are ruinвАЩd and undone, my child, said the abbess to Margarita,вБ†вЄЇвБ†we shall be here all nightвБ†вЄЇвБ†we shall be plunderвАЩdвБ†вЄЇвБ†we shall be ravishвАЩdвБ†вЄЇвБ† + 

вЄЇвБ†We shall be ravishвАЩd, said Margarita, as sure as a gun. + 

Sancta Maria! cried the abbess (forgetting the O!)вБ†вАФwhy was I governвАЩd by this wicked stiff joint? why did I leave the convent of Ando√Љillets? and why didst thou not suffer thy servant to go unpolluted to her tomb? + 

O my finger! my finger! cried the novice, catching fire at the word servantвБ†вАФwhy was I not content to put it here, or there, anywhere rather than be in this strait? + 

Strait! said the abbess. + 

StraitвБ†вЄЇвБ†said the novice; for terror had struck their understandingsвБ†вЄЇвБ†the one knew not what she saidвБ†вЄЇвБ†the other what she answerвАЩd. + 

O my virginity! virginity! cried the abbess. + 

вЄЇвБ†inity!вБ†вЄЇвБ†inity! said the novice, sobbing. + 

XXIV + 

My dear mother, quoth the novice, coming a little to herself,вБ†вЄЇвБ†there are two certain words, which I have been told will force any horse, or ass, or mule, to go up a hill whether he will or no; be he never so obstinate or ill-willвАЩd, the moment he hears them utterвАЩd, he obeys. They are words magic! cried the abbess in the utmost horrorвБ†вАФNo; replied Margarita calmlyвБ†вАФbut they are words sinfulвБ†вАФWhat are they? quoth the abbess, interrupting her: They are sinful in the first degree, answered Margarita,вБ†вАФthey are mortalвБ†вАФand if we are ravishвАЩd and die unabsolved of them, we shall bothвБ†вЄЇвБ†but you may pronounce them to me, quoth the abbess of Ando√ЉilletsвБ†вЄЇвБ†They cannot, my dear mother, said the novice, be pronounced at all; they will make all the blood in oneвАЩs body fly up into oneвАЩs faceвБ†вАФBut you may whisper them in my ear, quoth the abbess. + 

Heaven! hadst thou no guardian angel to delegate to the inn at the bottom of the hill? was there no generous and friendly spirit unemployedвБ†вЄЇвБ†no agent in nature, by some monitory shivering, creeping along the artery which led to his heart, to rouse the muleteer from his banquet?вБ†вЄЇвБ†no sweet minstrelsy to bring back the fair idea of the abbess and Margarita, with their black rosaries! + 

Rouse! rouse!вБ†вЄЇвБ†but вАЩtis too lateвБ†вАФthe horrid words are pronounced this momentвБ†вЄЇвБ† + 

вЄЇвБ†and how to tell themвБ†вАФYe, who can speak of everything existing, with unpolluted lips, instruct meвБ†вЄЇвБ†guide meвБ†вЄЇвБ† + 

XXV + 

All sins whatever, quoth the abbess, turning casuist in the distress they were under, are held by the confessor of our convent to be either mortal or venial: there is no further division. Now a venial sin being the slightest and least of all sinsвБ†вАФbeing halvedвБ†вАФby taking either only the half of it, and leaving the restвБ†вАФor, by taking it all, and amicably halving it betwixt yourself and another personвБ†вАФin course becomes diluted into no sin at all. + 

Now I see no sin in saying, bou, bou, bou, bou, bou, a hundred times together; nor is there any turpitude in pronouncing the syllable ger, ger, ger, ger, ger, were it from our matins to our vespers: Therefore, my dear daughter, continued the abbess of Ando√ЉilletsвБ†вАФI will say bou, and thou shalt say ger; and then alternately, as there is no more sin in fou than in bouвБ†вАФThou shalt say fouвБ†вАФand I will come in (like fa, sol, la, re, mi, ut, at our complines) with ter. And accordingly the abbess, giving the pitch note, set off thus: + 

Abbess, + 

} + 

Bou - - bou - - bou - - + 

Margarita, + 

вЄЇвБ†ger, - - ger, - - ger. + 

Margarita, + 

} + 

Fou - - fou - - fou - - + 

Abbess, + 

вЄЇвБ†ter, - - ter, - - ter. + 

The two mules acknowledged the notes by a mutual lash of their tails; but it went no furtherвБ†вЄЇвАЩTwill answer by anвАЩ by, said the novice. + 

Abbess, + 

} + 

Bou- bou- bou- bou- bou- bou- + 

Margarita, + 

вАФger, ger, ger, ger, ger, ger. + 

Quicker still, cried Margarita. + 

Fou, fou, fou, fou, fou, fou, fou, fou, fou. + 

Quicker still, cried Margarita. + 

Bou, bou, bou, bou, bou, bou, bou, bou, bou, + 

Quicker stillвБ†вАФGod preserve me; said the abbessвБ†вАФThey do not understand us, cried MargaritaвБ†вАФBut the Devil does, said the abbess of Ando√Љillets. + 

XXVI + 

What a tract of country have I run!вБ†вАФhow many degrees nearer to the warm sun am I advanced, and how many fair and goodly cities have I seen, during the time you have been reading, and reflecting, Madam, upon this story! ThereвАЩs Fontainbleau, and Sens, and Joigny, and Auxerre, and Dijon the capital of Burgundy, and Challon, and M√Ґcon the capital of the M√Ґconese, and a score more upon the road to LyonsвБ†вЄЇвБ†and now I have run them overвБ†вЄЇвБ†I might as well talk to you of so many market towns in the moon, as tell you one word about them: it will be this chapter at the least, if not both this and the next entirely lost, do what I willвБ†вЄЇвБ† + 

вЄЇвБ†Why, вАЩtis a strange story! Tristram. + 

вБ†вЄЇвБ†Alas! Madam, had it been upon some melancholy lecture of the crossвБ†вАФthe peace of meekness, or the contentment of resignationвБ†вЄЇвБ†I had not been incommoded: or had I thought of writing it upon the purer abstractions of the soul, and that food of wisdom and holiness and contemplation, upon which the spirit of man (when separated from the body) is to subsist foreverвБ†вЄЇвБ†You would have come with a better appetite from itвБ†вЄЇвБ† + 

вЄЇвБ†I wish I never had wrote it: but as I never blot anything outвБ†вЄЇвБ†let us use some honest means to get it out of our heads directly. + 

вЄЇвБ†Pray reach me my foolвАЩs capвБ†вЄЇвБ†I fear you sit upon it, MadamвБ†вЄЇвАЩtis under the cushionвБ†вЄЇвБ†IвАЩll put it onвБ†вЄЇвБ† + 

Bless me! you have had it upon your head this half hour.вБ†вЄЇвБ†There then let it stay, with a + 

Fa-ra diddle di + 

and a fa-ri diddle d + 

and a high-dumвБ†вАФdye-dum + 

fiddle - - - dumb - c. + 

And now, Madam, we may venture, I hope, a little to go on. + 

XXVII + 

вЄЇвБ†All you need say of Fontainbleau (in case you are askвАЩd) is, that it stands about forty miles (south something) from Paris, in the middle of a large forestвБ†вЄЇвБ†That there is something great in itвБ†вЄЇвБ†That the king goes there once every two or three years, with his whole court, for the pleasure of the chaseвБ†вАФand that, during that carnival of sporting, any English gentleman of fashion (you need not forget yourself) may be accommodated with a nag or two, to partake of the sport, taking care only not to out-gallop the kingвБ†вЄЇвБ† + 

Though there are two reasons why you need not talk loud of this to everyone. + 

First, Because вАЩtwill make the said nags the harder to be got; and + 

Secondly, вАЩTis not a word of it true.вБ†вЄЇвБ†Allons! + 

As for SensвБ†вЄЇвБ†you may dispatchвБ†вАФin a wordвБ†вЄївАЬвАЩTis an archiepiscopal see.вАЭ + 

вЄЇвБ†For JoignyвБ†вАФthe less, I think, one says of it the better. + 

But for AuxerreвБ†вАФI could go on forever: for in my grand tour through Europe, in which, after all, my father (not caring to trust me with anyone) attended me himself, with my uncle Toby, and Trim, and Obadiah, and indeed most of the family, except my mother, who being taken up with a project of knitting my father a pair of large worsted breechesвБ†вАФ(the thing is common sense)вБ†вАФand she not caring to be put out of her way, she stayed at home, at Shandy Hall, to keep things right during the expedition; in which, I say, my father stopping us two days at Auxerre, and his researches being ever of such a nature, that they would have found fruit even in a desertвБ†вЄЇвБ†he has left me enough to say upon Auxerre: in short, wherever my father wentвБ†вЄЇвБ†but вАЩtwas more remarkably so, in this journey through France and Italy, than in any other stages of his lifeвБ†вЄЇвБ†his road seemed to lie so much on one side of that, wherein all other travellers have gone before himвБ†вАФhe saw kings and courts and silks of all colours, in such strange lightsвБ†вЄЇвБ†and his remarks and reasonings upon the characters, the manners, and customs, of the countries we passвАЩd over, were so opposite to those of all other mortal men, particularly those of my uncle Toby and TrimвБ†вАФ(to say nothing of myself)вБ†вАФand to crown allвБ†вАФthe occurrences and scrapes which we were perpetually meeting and getting into, in consequence of his systems and opiniatryвБ†вАФthey were of so odd, so mixвАЩd and tragicomical a contextureвБ†вАФThat the whole put together, it appears of so different a shade and tint from any tour of Europe, which was ever executedвБ†вАФthat I will venture to pronounceвБ†вАФthe fault must be mine and mine onlyвБ†вАФif it be not read by all travellers and travel-readers, till travelling is no more,вБ†вАФor which comes to the same pointвБ†вАФtill the world, finally, takes it into its head to stand still.вБ†вЄЇвБ† + 

вЄЇвБ†But this rich bale is not to be openвАЩd now; except a small thread or two of it, merely to unravel the mystery of my fatherвАЩs stay at Auxerre. + 

вЄЇвБ†As I have mentioned itвБ†вАФвАЩtis too slight to be kept suspended; and when вАЩtis wove in, there is an end of it. + 

WeвАЩll go, brother Toby, said my father, whilst dinner is coddlingвБ†вАФto the abby of Saint Germain, if it be only to see these bodies, of which Monsieur Sequier has given such a recommendation.вБ†вЄЇвБ†IвАЩll go see anybody, quoth my uncle Toby; for he was all compliance through every step of the journeyвБ†вЄЇвБ†Defend me! said my fatherвБ†вАФthey are all mummiesвБ†вЄЇвБ†Then one need not shave; quoth my uncle TobyвБ†вЄЇвБ†Shave! noвБ†вАФcried my fatherвБ†вАФвАЩtwill be more like relations to go with our beards onвБ†вАФSo out we sallied, the corporal lending his master his arm, and bringing up the rear, to the abby of Saint Germain. + 

Everything is very fine, and very rich, and very superb, and very magnificent, said my father, addressing himself to the sacristan, who was a younger brother of the order of BenedictinesвБ†вАФbut our curiosity has led us to see the bodies, of which Monsieur Sequier has given the world so exact a description.вБ†вАФThe sacristan made a bow, and lighting a torch first, which he had always in the vestry ready for the purpose; he led us into the tomb of St.¬†HeribaldвБ†вЄЇвБ†This, said the sacristan, laying his hand upon the tomb, was a renowned prince of the house of Bavaria, who under the successive reigns of Charlemagne, Louis le Debonnair, and Charles the Bald, bore a great sway in the government, and had a principal hand in bringing everything into order and disciplineвБ†вЄЇвБ† + 

Then he has been as great, said my uncle, in the field, as in the cabinetвБ†вЄЇвБ†I dare say he has been a gallant soldierвБ†вЄЇвБ†He was a monkвБ†вАФsaid the sacristan. + 

My uncle Toby and Trim sought comfort in each otherвАЩs facesвБ†вАФbut found it not: my father clapped both his hands upon his codpiece, which was a way he had when anything hugely tickled him: for though he hated a monk and the very smell of a monk worse than all the devils in hellвБ†вЄЇвБ†yet the shot hitting my uncle Toby and Trim so much harder than him, вАЩtwas a relative triumph; and put him into the gayest humour in the world. + 

вЄЇвБ†And pray what do you call this gentleman? quoth my father, rather sportingly: This tomb, said the young Benedictine, looking downwards, contains the bones of Saint Maxima, who came from Ravenna on purpose to touch the bodyвБ†вЄЇвБ† + 

вЄЇвБ†Of Saint Maximus, said my father, popping in with his saint before him,вБ†вАФthey were two of the greatest saints in the whole martyrology, added my fatherвБ†вЄЇвБ†Excuse me, said the sacristanвБ†вЄЇвЄЇвАЩtwas to touch the bones of Saint Germain, the builder of the abbyвБ†вЄЇвБ†And what did she get by it? said my uncle TobyвБ†вЄЇвБ†What does any woman get by it? said my fatherвБ†вЄЇвБ†Martyrdome; replied the young Benedictine, making a bow down to the ground, and uttering the word with so humble but decisive a cadence, it disarmed my father for a moment. вАЩTis supposed, continued the Benedictine, that St.¬†Maxima has lain in this tomb four hundred years, and two hundred before her canonizationвБ†вЄЇвАЩTis but a slow rise, brother Toby, quoth my father, in this selfsame army of martyrs.вБ†вЄЇвБ†A desperate slow one, anвАЩ please your honour, said Trim, unless one could purchaseвБ†вЄЇвБ†I should rather sell out entirely, quoth my uncle TobyвБ†вЄЇвБ†I am pretty much of your opinion, brother Toby, said my father. + 

вЄЇвБ†Poor St.¬†Maxima! said my uncle Toby low to himself, as we turnвАЩd from her tomb: She was one of the fairest and most beautiful ladies either of Italy or France, continued the sacristanвБ†вЄЇвБ†But who the duce has got lain down here, besides her? quoth my father, pointing with his cane to a large tomb as we walked onвБ†вЄЇвБ†It is Saint Optat, Sir, answered the sacristanвБ†вЄЇвБ†And properly is Saint Optat placвАЩd! said my father: And what is Saint OptatвАЩs story? continued he. Saint Optat, replied the sacristan, was a bishopвБ†вЄЇвБ† + 

вЄЇвБ†I thought so, by heaven! cried my father, interrupting himвБ†вЄЇвБ†Saint Optat!вБ†вЄЇвБ†how should Saint Optat fail? so snatching out his pocketbook, and the young Benedictine holding him the torch as he wrote, he set it down as a new prop to his system of Christian names, and I will be bold to say, so disinterested was he in the search of truth, that had he found a treasure in Saint OptatвАЩs tomb, it would not have made him half so rich: вАЩTwas as successful a short visit as ever was paid to the dead; and so highly was his fancy pleasвАЩd with all that had passed in it,вБ†вАФthat he determined at once to stay another day in Auxerre. + 

вАФIвАЩll see the rest of these good gentry tomorrow, said my father, as we crossвАЩd over the squareвБ†вАФAnd while you are paying that visit, brother Shandy, quoth my uncle TobyвБ†вАФthe corporal and I will mount the ramparts. + 

XXVIII + 

вЄЇвБ†Now this is the most puzzled skein of allвБ†вЄЇвБ†for in this last chapter, as far at least as it has helpвАЩd me through Auxerre, I have been getting forwards in two different journies together, and with the same dash of the penвБ†вАФfor I have got entirely out of Auxerre in this journey which I am writing now, and I am got halfway out of Auxerre in that which I shall write hereafterвБ†вЄЇвБ†There is but a certain degree of perfection in everything; and by pushing at something beyond that, I have brought myself into such a situation, as no traveller ever stood before me; for I am this moment walking across the marketplace of Auxerre with my father and my uncle Toby, in our way back to dinnerвБ†вЄЇвБ†and I am this moment also entering Lyons with my post-chaise broke into a thousand piecesвБ†вАФand I am moreover this moment in a handsome pavillion built by Pringello, upon the banks of the Garonne, which Mons. Sligniac has lent me, and where I now sit rhapsodising all these affairs. + 

вЄЇвБ†Let me collect myself, and pursue my journey. + 

XXIX + 

I am glad of it, said I, settling the account with myself, as I walkвАЩd into LyonsвБ†вЄЇвБ†my chaise being all laid higgledy-piggledy with my baggage in a cart, which was moving slowly before meвБ†вЄЇвБ†I am heartily glad, said I, that вАЩtis all broke to pieces; for now I can go directly by water to Avignon, which will carry me on a hundred and twenty miles of my journey, and not cost me seven livresвБ†вЄЇвБ†and from thence, continued I, bringing forwards the account, I can hire a couple of mulesвБ†вАФor asses, if I like (for nobody knows me) and cross the plains of Languedoc for almost nothingвБ†вЄЇвБ†I shall gain four hundred livres by the misfortune clear into my purse: and pleasure! worthвБ†вАФworth double the money by it. With what velocity, continued I, clapping my two hands together, shall I fly down the rapid Rhone, with the Vivares on my right hand, and Dauphiny on my left, scarce seeing the ancient cities of Vienne, Valence, and Vivieres. What a flame will it rekindle in the lamp, to snatch a blushing grape from the Hermitage and C√іte roti, as I shoot by the foot of them! and what a fresh spring in the blood! to behold upon the banks advancing and retiring, the castles of romance, whence courteous knights have whilome rescued the distressвАЩdвБ†вЄЇвБ†and see vertiginous, the rocks, the mountains, the cataracts, and all the hurry which Nature is in with all her great works about her. + 

As I went on thus, methought my chaise, the wreck of which lookвАЩd stately enough at the first, insensibly grew less and less in its size; the freshness of the painting was no moreвБ†вАФthe gilding lost its lustreвБ†вАФand the whole affair appeared so poor in my eyesвБ†вАФso sorry!вБ†вАФso contemptible! and, in a word, so much worse than the abbess of Ando√ЉilletsвАЩ itselfвБ†вАФthat I was just opening my mouth to give it to the devilвБ†вАФwhen a pert vamping chaise-undertaker, stepping nimbly across the street, demanded if Monsieur would have his chaise refittedвБ†вЄЇвБ†No, no, said I, shaking my head sidewaysвБ†вАФWould Monsieur choose to sell it? rejoined the undertaker.вБ†вАФWith all my soul, said IвБ†вАФthe iron work is worth forty livresвБ†вАФand the glasses worth forty moreвБ†вАФand the leather you may take to live on. + 

What a mine of wealth, quoth I, as he counted me the money, has this post-chaise brought me in? And this is my usual method of bookkeeping, at least with the disasters of lifeвБ†вАФmaking a penny of every one of вАЩem as they happen to meвБ†вЄЇвБ† + 

вЄЇвБ†Do, my dear Jenny, tell the world for me, how I behaved under one, the most oppressive of its kind, which could befall me as a man, proud as he ought to be of his manhoodвБ†вЄЇвБ† + 

вАЩTis enough, saidst thou, coming close up to me, as I stood with my garters in my hand, reflecting upon what had not passвАЩdвБ†вЄЇвАЩTis enough, Tristram, and I am satisfied, saidst thou, whispering these words in my ear, **** ** **** *** ******;вБ†вАФ**** ** **вБ†вЄЇвБ†any other man would have sunk down to the centerвБ†вЄЇвБ† + 

вЄЇвБ†Everything is good for something, quoth I. + 

вЄЇвБ†IвАЩll go into Wales for six weeks, and drink goatвАЩs wheyвБ†вАФand IвАЩll gain seven years longer life for the accident. For which reason I think myself inexcusable, for blaming fortune so often as I have done, for pelting me all my life long, like an ungracious duchess, as I callвАЩd her, with so many small evils: surely, if I have any cause to be angry with her, вАЩtis that she has not sent me great onesвБ†вАФa score of good cursed, bouncing losses, would have been as good as a pension to me. + 

вЄЇвБ†One of a hundred a year, or so, is all I wishвБ†вАФI would not be at the plague of paying land-tax for a larger. + 

XXX + 

To those who call vexations, vexations, as knowing what they are, there could not be a greater, than to be the best part of a day at Lyons, the most opulent and flourishing city in France, enriched with the most fragments of antiquityвБ†вАФand not be able to see it. To be withheld upon any account, must be a vexation; but to be withheld by a vexationвБ†вЄЇвБ†must certainly be, what philosophy justly calls + 

Vexation + 

upon + 

Vexation. + 

I had got my two dishes of milk coffee (which by the by is excellently good for a consumption, but you must boil the milk and coffee togetherвБ†вАФotherwise вАЩtis only coffee and milk)вБ†вАФand as it was no more than eight in the morning, and the boat did not go off till noon, I had time to see enough of Lyons to tire the patience of all the friends I had in the world with it. I will take a walk to the cathedral, said I, looking at my list, and see the wonderful mechanism of this great clock of Lippius of Basil, in the first placeвБ†вЄЇвБ† + 

Now, of all things in the world, I understand the least of mechanismвБ†вЄЇвБ†I have neither genius, or taste, or fancyвБ†вАФand have a brain so entirely unapt for everything of that kind, that I solemnly declare I was never yet able to comprehend the principles of motion of a squirrel cage, or a common knife-grinderвАЩs wheelвБ†вАФthough I have many an hour of my life lookвАЩd up with great devotion at the oneвБ†вАФand stood by with as much patience as any christian ever could do, at the otherвБ†вЄЇвБ† + 

IвАЩll go see the surprising movements of this great clock, said I, the very first thing I do: and then I will pay a visit to the great library of the Jesuits, and procure, if possible, a sight of the thirty volumes of the general history of China, wrote (not in the Tartarean, but) in the Chinese language, and in the Chinese character too. + 

Now I almost know as little of the Chinese language, as I do of the mechanism of LippiusвАЩs clockwork; so, why these should have jostled themselves into the two first articles of my listвБ†вЄЇвБ†I leave to the curious as a problem of Nature. I own it looks like one of her ladyshipвАЩs obliquities; and they who court her, are interested in finding out her humour as much as I. + 

When these curiosities are seen, quoth I, half addressing myself to my valet de place, who stood behind meвБ†вЄЇвАЩtwill be no hurt if we go to the church of St.¬†Iren√¶us, and see the pillar to which Christ was tiedвБ†вЄЇвБ†and after that, the house where Pontius Pilate livedвБ†вЄЇвАЩTwas at the next town, said the valet de placeвБ†вАФat Vienne; I am glad of it, said I, rising briskly from my chair, and walking across the room with strides twice as long as my usual paceвБ†вЄЇвАЬfor so much the sooner shall I be at the Tomb of the two lovers.вАЭ + 

What was the cause of this movement, and why I took such long strides in uttering thisвБ†вЄЇвБ†I might leave to the curious too; but as no principle of clockwork is concerned in itвБ†вЄЇвАЩtwill be as well for the reader if I explain it myself. + 

XXXI + 

O there is a sweet √¶ra in the life of man, when (the brain being tender and fibrillous, and more like pap than anything else)вБ†вЄЇвБ†a story read of two fond lovers, separated from each other by cruel parents, and by still more cruel destinyвБ†вЄЇвБ† + 

AmandusвБ†вЄЇвБ†He + 

AmandaвБ†вЄЇвБ†SheвБ†вЄЇвБ† + 

each ignorant of the otherвАЩs course, + 

HeвБ†вЄЇвБ†east + 

SheвБ†вЄЇвБ†west + 

Amandus taken captive by the Turks, and carried to the emperor of MoroccoвАЩs court, where the princess of Morocco falling in love with him, keeps him twenty years in prison for the love of his Amanda.вБ†вЄЇвБ† + 

SheвБ†вАФ(Amanda) all the time wandering barefoot, and with dishevellвАЩd hair, oвАЩer rocks and mountains, enquiring for Amandus!вБ†вЄЇвБ†Amandus! Amandus!вБ†вАФmaking every hill and valley to echo back his nameвБ†вЄЇвБ† + 

Amandus! Amandus! + 

at every town and city, sitting down forlorn at the gateвБ†вЄЇвБ†Has Amandus!вБ†вАФhas my Amandus enterвАЩd?вБ†вЄЇвБ†till,вБ†вЄЇвБ†going round, and round, and round the worldвБ†вЄЇвБ†chance unexpected bringing them at the same moment of the night, though by different ways, to the gate of Lyons, their native city, and each in well-known accents calling out aloud, + 

Is Amandus + 

Is my Amanda + 

} + 

still alive? + 

they fly into each otherвАЩs arms, and both drop down dead for joy. + 

There is a soft √¶ra in every gentle mortalвАЩs life, where such a story affords more pabulum to the brain, than all the Frusts, and Crusts, and Rusts of antiquity, which travellers can cook up for it. + 

вЄЇвАЩTwas all that stuck on the right side of the cullender in my own, of what Spon and others, in their accounts of Lyons, had strained into it; and finding, moreover, in some Itinerary, but in what God knowsвБ†вЄЇвБ†That sacred to the fidelity of Amandus and Amanda, a tomb was built without the gates, where, to this hour, lovers called upon them to attest their truthsвБ†вЄЇвБ†I never could get into a scrape of that kind in my life, but this tomb of the lovers would, somehow or other, come in at the closeвБ†вЄЇвБ†nay such a kind of empire had it establishвАЩd over me, that I could seldom think or speak of LyonsвБ†вАФand sometimes not so much as see even a Lyons-waistcoat, but this remnant of antiquity would present itself to my fancy; and I have often said in my wild way of running onвБ†вЄЇвБ†though I fear with some irreverenceвБ†вЄЇвАЬI thought this shrine (neglected as it was) as valuable as that of Mecca, and so little short, except in wealth, of the Santa Casa itself, that some time or other, I would go a pilgrimage (though I had no other business at Lyons) on purpose to pay it a visit.вАЭ + 

In my list, therefore, of Videnda at Lyons, this, though last,вБ†вАФwas not, you see, least; so taking a dozen or two of longer strides than usual across my room, just whilst it passed my brain, I walked down calmly into the Basse Cour, in order to sally forth; and having called for my billвБ†вАФas it was uncertain whether I should return to my inn, I had paid itвБ†вЄЇвБ†had moreover given the maid ten sous, and was just receiving the dernier compliments of Monsieur Le Blanc, for a pleasant voyage down the Rh√іneвБ†вЄЇвБ†when I was stopped at the gateвБ†вЄЇвБ† + 

XXXII + 

вЄЇвАЩTwas by a poor ass, who had just turned in with a couple of large panniers upon his back, to collect eleemosynary turnip-tops and cabbage-leaves; and stood dubious, with his two forefeet on the inside of the threshold, and with his two hinder feet towards the street, as not knowing very well whether he was to go in or no. + 

Now, вАЩtis an animal (be in what hurry I may) I cannot bear to strikeвБ†вЄЇвБ†there is a patient endurance of sufferings, wrote so unaffectedly in his looks and carriage, which pleads so mightily for him, that it always disarms me; and to that degree, that I do not like to speak unkindly to him: on the contrary, meet him where I willвБ†вАФwhether in town or countryвБ†вАФin cart or under panniersвБ†вАФwhether in liberty or bondageвБ†вЄЇвБ†I have ever something civil to say to him on my part; and as one word begets another (if he has as little to do as I)вБ†вЄЇвБ†I generally fall into conversation with him; and surely never is my imagination so busy as in framing his responses from the etchings of his countenanceвБ†вАФand where those carry me not deep enoughвБ†вЄЇвБ†in flying from my own heart into his, and seeing what is natural for an ass to thinkвБ†вАФas well as a man, upon the occasion. In truth, it is the only creature of all the classes of beings below me, with whom I can do this: for parrots, jackdaws, etc.вБ†вЄЇвБ†I never exchange a word with themвБ†вЄЇвБ†nor with the apes, etc., for pretty near the same reason; they act by rote, as the others speak by it, and equally make me silent: nay my dog and my cat, though I value them bothвБ†вЄЇ(and for my dog he would speak if he could)вБ†вАФyet somehow or other, they neither of them possess the talents for conversationвБ†вЄЇвБ†I can make nothing of a discourse with them, beyond the proposition, the reply, and rejoinder, which terminated my fatherвАЩs and my motherвАЩs conversations, in his beds of justiceвБ†вЄЇвБ†and those utterвАЩdвБ†вЄЇвБ†thereвАЩs an end of the dialogueвБ†вЄЇвБ† + 

вАФBut with an ass, I can commune forever. + 

Come, Honesty! said I,вБ†вЄЇвБ†seeing it was impracticable to pass betwixt him and the gateвБ†вЄЇвБ†art thou for coming in, or going out? + 

The ass twisted his head round to look up the streetвБ†вЄЇвБ† + 

WellвБ†вАФreplied IвБ†вАФweвАЩll wait a minute for thy driver: + 

вЄЇвБ†He turned his head thoughtful about, and looked wistfully the opposite wayвБ†вЄЇвБ† + 

I understand thee perfectly, answered IвБ†вЄЇвБ†If thou takest a wrong step in this affair, he will cudgel thee to deathвБ†вЄЇвБ†Well! a minute is but a minute, and if it saves a fellow-creature a drubbing, it shall not be set down as ill spent. + 

He was eating the stem of an artichoke as this discourse went on, and in the little peevish contentions of nature betwixt hunger and unsavouriness, had dropt it out of his mouth half a dozen times, and pickвАЩd it up againвБ†вЄЇвБ†God help thee, Jack! said I, thou hast a bitter breakfast onвАЩtвБ†вАФand many a bitter dayвАЩs labour,вБ†вАФand many a bitter blow, I fear, for its wagesвБ†вЄЇвАЩtis allвБ†вАФall bitterness to thee, whatever life is to others.вБ†вЄЇвБ†And now thy mouth, if one knew the truth of it, is as bitter, I dare say, as sootвБ†вАФ(for he had cast aside the stem) and thou hast not a friend perhaps in all this world, that will give thee a macaroon.вБ†вЄЇвБ†In saying this, I pullвАЩd out a paper of вАЩem, which I had just purchased, and gave him oneвБ†вАФand at this moment that I am telling it, my heart smites me, that there was more of pleasantry in the conceit, of seeing how an ass would eat a macaroonвБ†вЄЇвБ†than of benevolence in giving him one, which presided in the act. + 

When the ass had eaten his macaroon, I pressвАЩd him to come inвБ†вАФthe poor beast was heavy loadedвБ†вЄЇвБ†his legs seemвАЩd to tremble under himвБ†вЄЇвБ†he hung rather backwards, and as I pullвАЩd at his halter, it broke short in my handвБ†вЄЇвБ†he lookвАЩd up pensive in my faceвБ†вАФвАЬDonвАЩt thrash me with itвБ†вАФbut if you will, you mayвАЭвБ†вЄЇвБ†If I do, said I, IвАЩll be dвБ†вЄЇвБ†d. + 

The word was but one-half of it pronounced, like the abbess of Ando√ЉilletsвАЩвБ†вАФ(so there was no sin in it)вБ†вАФwhen a person coming in, let fall a thundering bastinado upon the poor devilвАЩs crupper, which put an end to the ceremony. + 

Out upon it! + 

cried IвБ†вЄЇвБ†but the interjection was equivocalвБ†вЄЇвБ†and, I think, wrong placed tooвБ†вАФfor the end of an osier which had started out from the contexture of the assвАЩs pannier, had caught hold of my breeches pocket, as he rushвАЩd by me, and rent it in the most disastrous direction you can imagineвБ†вЄЇвБ†so that the + 

Out upon it! in my opinion, should have come in hereвБ†вЄЇвБ†but this I leave to be settled by + 

The + 

reviewers + 

of + 

my breeches, + 

which I have brought over along with me for that purpose. + 

XXXIII + 

When all was set to rights, I came downstairs again into the basse cour with my valet de place, in order to sally out towards the tomb of the two lovers, etc.вБ†вАФand was a second time stoppвАЩd at the gateвБ†вЄЇвБ†not by the assвБ†вАФbut by the person who struck him; and who, by that time, had taken possession (as is not uncommon after a defeat) of the very spot of ground where the ass stood. + 

It was a commissary sent to me from the post-office, with a rescript in his hand for the payment of some six livres odd sous. + 

Upon what account? said I.вБ†вЄЇвАЩTis upon the part of the king, replied the commissary, heaving up both his shouldersвБ†вЄЇвБ† + 

вЄЇвБ†My good friend, quoth IвБ†вЄЇвБ†as sure as I am IвБ†вАФand you are youвБ†вЄЇвБ† + 

вЄЇвБ†And who are you? said he.вБ†вЄїDonвАЩt puzzle me; said I. + 

XXXIV + 

вЄЇвБ†But it is an indubitable verity, continued I, addressing myself to the commissary, changing only the form of my asseverationвБ†вЄЇвБ†that I owe the king of France nothing but my goodwill; for he is a very honest man, and I wish him all health and pastime in the worldвБ†вЄЇвБ† + 

Pardonnez moiвБ†вАФreplied the commissary, you are indebted to him six livres four sous, for the next post from hence to St.¬†Fons, in your route to AvignonвБ†вАФwhich being a post royal, you pay double for the horses and postillionвБ†вАФotherwise вАЩtwould have amounted to no more than three livres two sousвБ†вЄЇвБ† + 

вЄЇвБ†But I donвАЩt go by land; said I. + 

вЄЇвБ†You may if you please; replied the commissaryвБ†вЄЇвБ† + 

Your most obedient servantвБ†вЄЇвБ†said I, making him a low bowвБ†вЄЇвБ† + 

The commissary, with all the sincerity of grave good breedingвБ†вАФmade me one, as low again.вБ†вЄЇвБ†I never was more disconcerted with a bow in my life. + 

вЄЇвБ†The devil take the serious character of these people! quoth IвБ†вАФ(aside) they understand no more of irony than thisвБ†вЄЇвБ† + 

The comparison was standing close by with his panniersвБ†вАФbut something sealвАЩd up my lipsвБ†вАФI could not pronounce the nameвБ†вАФ + 

Sir, said I, collecting myselfвБ†вАФit is not my intention to take postвБ†вЄЇвБ† + 

вАФBut you mayвБ†вАФsaid he, persisting in his first replyвБ†вАФyou may take post if you chooseвБ†вЄЇвБ† + 

вАФAnd I may take salt to my pickled herring, said I, if I chooseвБ†вЄЇвБ† + 

вАФBut I do not chooseвБ†вАФ + 

вАФBut you must pay for it, whether you do or no. + 

Aye! for the salt; said I (I know)вБ†вЄЇвБ† + 

вАФAnd for the post too; added he. Defend me! cried IвБ†вЄЇвБ† + 

I travel by waterвБ†вАФI am going down the Rh√іne this very afternoonвБ†вАФmy baggage is in the boatвБ†вАФand I have actually paid nine livres for my passageвБ†вЄЇвБ† + 

CвАЩest tout egalвБ†вАФвАЩtis all one; said he. + 

Bon Dieu! what, pay for the way I go! and for the way I do not¬†go! + 

вЄЇвБ†CвАЩest tout egal; replied the commissaryвБ†вЄЇвБ† + 

вЄЇвБ†The devil it is! said IвБ†вАФbut I will go to ten thousand Bastiles firstвБ†вЄЇвБ† + 

O England! England! thou land of liberty, and climate of good sense, thou tenderest of mothersвБ†вАФand gentlest of nurses, cried I, kneeling upon one knee, as I was beginning my apostrophe. + 

When the director of Madam Le BlancвАЩs conscience coming in at that instant, and seeing a person in black, with a face as pale as ashes, at his devotionsвБ†вАФlooking still paler by the contrast and distress of his draperyвБ†вАФaskвАЩd, if I stood in want of the aids of the churchвБ†вЄЇвБ† + 

I go by waterвБ†вАФsaid IвБ†вАФand hereвАЩs another will be for making me pay for going by oil. + 

XXXV + 

As I perceived the commissary of the post-office would have his six livres four sous, I had nothing else for it, but to say some smart thing upon the occasion, worth the money: + 

And so I set off thus:вБ†вЄЇвБ† + 

вЄЇвБ†And pray, Mr.¬†Commissary, by what law of courtesy is a defenceless stranger to be used just the reverse from what you use a Frenchman in this matter? + 

By no means; said he. + 

Excuse me; said IвБ†вАФfor you have begun, Sir, with first tearing off my breechesвБ†вАФand now you want my pocketвБ†вЄЇвБ† + 

WhereasвБ†вАФhad you first taken my pocket, as you do with your own peopleвБ†вАФand then left me bare aвБ†вЄЇвАЩd afterвБ†вАФI had been a beast to have complainвАЩdвБ†вЄЇвБ† + 

As it isвБ†вЄЇвБ† + 

вЄЇвАЩTis contrary to the law of nature. + 

вЄЇвАЩTis contrary to reason. + 

вЄЇвАЩTis contrary to the gospel. + 

But not to thisвБ†вЄЇвБ†said heвБ†вАФputting a printed paper into my hand, + 

Par le Roy. + 

вЄЇвЄЇвАЩTis a pithy prolegomenon, quoth IвБ†вАФand so read onвБ†вЄївЄї¬≠вЄївЄї¬≠вЄївЄї¬≠вЄївЄї¬≠вЄївЄї¬≠вЄївЄї¬≠вЄївЄї¬≠вЄївЄї¬≠вЄївЄї¬≠вЄївЄї¬≠вЄївЄї¬≠вЄївЄї¬≠вЄївЄї¬≠вЄївЄї¬≠вЄївЄї¬≠вЄївЄї¬≠вЄївЄї¬≠вЄївЄї¬≠вЄївЄї¬≠вЄївЄї¬≠вЄївЄї¬≠вЄївЄї¬≠вЄївЄї¬≠вЄївЄї¬≠вЄївЄї¬≠вЄївЄї¬≠вЄївЄї¬≠вЄївЄї¬≠вЄївЄї¬≠вЄївЄї + 

вЄЇвБ†By all which it appears, quoth I, having read it over, a little too rapidly, that if a man sets out in a post-chaise from ParisвБ†вАФhe must go on travelling in one, all the days of his lifeвБ†вАФor pay for it.вБ†вАФExcuse me, said the commissary, the spirit of the ordinance is thisвБ†вАФThat if you set out with an intention of running post from Paris to Avignon, etc., you shall not change that intention or mode of travelling, without first satisfying the fermiers for two posts further than the place you repent atвБ†вАФand вАЩtis founded, continued he, upon this, that the revenues are not to fall short through your ficklenessвБ†вЄЇвБ† + 

вЄЇвБ†O by heavens! cried IвБ†вАФif fickleness is taxable in FranceвБ†вАФwe have nothing to do but to make the best peace with you we canвБ†вЄЇвБ† + 

And so the peace was made; + 

вЄЇвБ†And if it is a bad oneвБ†вАФas Tristram Shandy laid the cornerstone of itвБ†вАФnobody but Tristram Shandy ought to be hanged. + 

XXXVI + 

Though I was sensible I had said as many clever things to the commissary as came to six livres four sous, yet I was determined to note down the imposition amongst my remarks before I retired from the place; so putting my hand into my coat-pocket for my remarksвБ†вАФ(which, by the by, may be a caution to travellers to take a little more care of their remarks for the future) вАЬmy remarks were stolenвАЭвБ†вЄЇвБ†Never did sorry traveller make such a pother and racket about his remarks as I did about mine, upon the occasion. + 

Heaven! earth! sea! fire! cried I, calling in everything to my aid but what I shouldвБ†вЄїMy remarks are stolen!вБ†вАФwhat shall I do?вБ†вЄЇвБ†Mr.¬†Commissary! pray did I drop any remarks, as I stood besides you?вБ†вЄї + 

You droppвАЩd a good many very singular ones; replied heвБ†вЄЇвБ†Pugh! said I, those were but a few, not worth above six livres two sousвБ†вАФbut these are a large parcelвБ†вЄЇвБ†He shook his headвБ†вЄЇвБ†Monsieur Le Blanc! Madam Le Blanc! did you see any papers of mine?вБ†вАФyou maid of the house! run upstairsвБ†вАФFran√Іois! run up after herвБ†вЄЇвБ† + 

вАФI must have my remarksвБ†вЄЇвБ†they were the best remarks, cried I, that ever were madeвБ†вАФthe wisestвБ†вАФthe wittiestвБ†вАФWhat shall I do?вБ†вАФwhich way shall I turn myself? + 

Sancho Pan√Іa, when he lost his assвАЩs furniture, did not exclaim more bitterly. + 

XXXVII + 

When the first transport was over, and the registers of the brain were beginning to get a little out of the confusion into which this jumble of cross accidents had cast themвБ†вАФit then presently occurrвАЩd to me, that I had left my remarks in the pocket of the chaiseвБ†вАФand that in selling my chaise, I had sold my remarks along with it, to the chaise-vamper. I leave this void space that the reader may swear into it any oath that he is most accustomed toвБ†вЄЇвБ†For my own part, if ever I swore a whole oath into a vacancy in my life, I think it was into thatвБ†вЄЇ*********, said IвБ†вАФand so my remarks through France, which were as full of wit, as an egg is full of meat, and as well worth four hundred guineas, as the said egg is worth a pennyвБ†вАФhave I been selling here to a chaise-vamperвБ†вАФfor four Louis dвАЩOrsвБ†вАФand giving him a post-chaise (by heaven) worth six into the bargain; had it been to Dodsley, or Becket, or any creditable bookseller, who was either leaving off business, and wanted a post-chaiseвБ†вАФor who was beginning itвБ†вАФand wanted my remarks, and two or three guineas along with themвБ†вАФI could have borne itвБ†вЄЇвБ†but to a chaise-vamper!вБ†вАФshow me to him this moment, Fran√Іois,вБ†вАФsaid IвБ†вАФThe valet de place put on his hat, and led the wayвБ†вАФand I pullвАЩd off mine, as I passвАЩd the commissary, and followed him. + 

XXXVIII + 

When we arrived at the Chaise-vamperвАЩs House, Both the House and the shop were shut up; it was the eighth of September, the nativity of the blessed Virgin Mary, mother of GodвБ†вАФ + 

вЄЇвБ†Tantarra-ra-tan-tiviвБ†вЄЇвБ†the whole world was gone out a May-polingвБ†вАФfrisking hereвБ†вАФcapering thereвБ†вЄЇвБ†nobody cared a button for me or my remarks; so I sat me down upon a bench by the door, philosophating upon my condition: by a better fate than usually attends me, I had not waited half an hour, when the mistress came in to take the papilliotes from off her hair, before she went to the MaypolesвБ†вЄЇвБ† + 

The French women, by the by, love Maypoles, √† la folieвБ†вАФthat is, as much as their matinsвБ†вЄЇвБ†give вАЩem but a Maypole, whether in May, June, July, or SeptemberвБ†вАФthey never count the timesвБ†вЄЇвБ†down it goesвБ†вЄЇвАЩtis meat, drink, washing, and lodging to вАЩemвБ†вЄЇвБ†and had we but the policy, anвАЩ please your worships (as wood is a little scarce in France), to send them but plenty of MaypolesвБ†вЄЇвБ† + 

The women would set them up; and when they had done, they would dance round them (and the men for company) till they were all blind. + 

The wife of the chaise-vamper steppвАЩd in, I told you, to take the papilliotes from off her hairвБ†вЄЇвБ†the toilet stands still for no manвБ†вЄЇвБ†so she jerkвАЩd off her cap, to begin with them as she openвАЩd the door, in doing which, one of them fell upon the groundвБ†вЄЇвБ†I instantly saw it was my own writingвБ†вЄЇвБ† + 

O Seigneur! cried IвБ†вАФyou have got all my remarks upon your head, Madam!вБ†вЄЇвБ†JвАЩen suis bien mortifi√©e, said sheвБ†вЄЇвАЩtis well, thinks I, they have stuck thereвБ†вАФfor could they have gone deeper, they would have made such confusion in a French womanвАЩs noddleвБ†вАФShe had better have gone with it unfrizled, to the day of eternity. + 

TenezвБ†вАФsaid sheвБ†вАФso without any idea of the nature of my suffering, she took them from her curls, and put them gravely one by one into my hatвБ†вЄЇвБ†one was twisted this wayвБ†вЄЇвБ†another twisted thatвБ†вЄЇвБ†ey! by my faith; and when they are published, quoth I,вБ†вЄЇвБ† + 

They will be worse twisted still. + 

XXXIX + 

And now for LippiusвАЩs clock! said I, with the air of a man, who had got throвАЩ all his difficultiesвБ†вЄЇвБ†nothing can prevent us seeing that, and the Chinese history, etc., except the time, said Fran√ІoisвБ†вЄЇвБ†for вАЩtis almost elevenвБ†вАФThen we must speed the faster, said I, striding it away to the cathedral. + 

I cannot say, in my heart, that it gave me any concern in being told by one of the minor canons, as I was entering the west door,вБ†вАФThat LippiusвАЩs great clock was all out of joints, and had not gone for some yearsвБ†вЄЇвБ†It will give me the more time, thought I, to peruse the Chinese history; and besides I shall be able to give the world a better account of the clock in its decay, than I could have done in its flourishing conditionвБ†вЄЇвБ† + 

вЄЇвБ†And so away I posted to the college of the Jesuits. + 

Now it is with the project of getting a peep at the history of China in Chinese charactersвБ†вАФas with many others I could mention, which strike the fancy only at a distance; for as I came nearer and nearer to the pointвБ†вАФmy blood coolвАЩdвБ†вАФthe freak gradually went off, till at length I would not have given a cherrystone to have it gratifiedвБ†вЄїThe truth was, my time was short, and my heart was at the Tomb of the LoversвБ†вЄЇвБ†I wish to God, said I, as I got the rapper in my hand, that the key of the library may be but lost; it fell out as wellвБ†вЄї + 

For all the Jesuits had got the cholicвБ†вАФand to that degree, as never was known in the memory of the oldest practitioner. + 

XL + 

As I knew the geography of the Tomb of the Lovers, as well as if I had lived twenty years in Lyons, namely, that it was upon the turning of my right hand, just without the gate, leading to the Fauxbourg de VaiseвБ†вЄЇвБ†I dispatched Fran√Іois to the boat, that I might pay the homage I so long owвАЩd it, without a witness of my weaknessвБ†вАФI walkвАЩd with all imaginable joy towards the placeвБ†вЄЇвБ†when I saw the gate which intercepted the tomb, my heart glowed within meвБ†вЄЇвБ† + 

вАФTender and faithful spirits! cried I, addressing myself to Amandus and AmandaвБ†вАФlongвБ†вАФlong have I tarried to drop this tear upon your tombвБ†вЄїI comeвБ†вЄїI comeвБ†вЄї + 

When I cameвБ†вАФthere was no tomb to drop it upon. + 

What would I have given for my uncle Toby, to have whistled Lillabullero! + 

XLI + 

No matter how, or in what moodвБ†вАФbut I flew from the tomb of the loversвБ†вАФor rather I did not fly from itвБ†вАФ(for there was no such thing existing) and just got time enough to the boat to save my passage;вБ†вАФand ere I had sailed a hundred yards, the Rh√іne and the Sa√іn met together, and carried me down merrily betwixt them. + 

But I have described this voyage down the Rh√іne, before I made itвБ†вЄЇвБ† + 

вЄЇвБ†So now I am at Avignon, and as there is nothing to see but the old house, in which the duke of Ormond resided, and nothing to stop me but a short remark upon the place, in three minutes you will see me crossing the bridge upon a mule, with Fran√Іois upon a horse with my portmanteau behind him, and the owner of both, striding the way before us, with a long gun upon his shoulder, and a sword under his arm, lest peradventure we should run away with his cattle. Had you seen my breeches in entering Avignon,вБ†вЄЇвБ†Though youвАЩd have seen them better, I think, as I mountedвБ†вАФyou would not have thought the precaution amiss, or found in your heart to have taken it in dudgeon; for my own part, I took it most kindly; and determined to make him a present of them, when we got to the end of our journey, for the trouble they had put him to, of arming himself at all points against them. + 

Before I go further, let me get rid of my remark upon Avignon, which is this: That I think it wrong, merely because a manвАЩs hat has been blown off his head by chance the first night he comes to Avignon,вБ†вЄЇвБ†that he should therefore say, вАЬAvignon is more subject to high winds than any town in all France:вАЭ for which reason I laid no stress upon the accident till I had enquired of the master of the inn about it, who telling me seriously it was soвБ†вЄЇвБ†and hearing, moreover, the windiness of Avignon spoke of in the country about as a proverbвБ†вЄЇвБ†I set it down, merely to ask the learned what can be the causeвБ†вЄЇвБ†the consequence I sawвБ†вАФfor they are all Dukes, Marquisses, and Counts, thereвБ†вЄЇвБ†the duce a Baron, in all AvignonвБ†вЄЇвБ†so that there is scarce any talking to them on a windy day. + 

Prithee, friend, said I, take hold of my mule for a momentвБ†вЄЇвБ†for I wanted to pull off one of my jackboots, which hurt my heelвБ†вАФthe man was standing quite idle at the door of the inn, and as I had taken it into my head, he was someway concerned about the house or stable, I put the bridle into his handвБ†вАФso begun with the boot:вБ†вАФwhen I had finished the affair, I turned about to take the mule from the man, and thank himвБ†вЄЇвБ† + 

вЄїBut Monsieur le Marquis had walked inвБ†вЄЇвБ† + 

XLII + 

I had now the whole south of France, from the banks of the Rh√іne to those of the Garonne, to traverse upon my mule at my own leisureвБ†вАФat my own leisureвБ†вЄЇвБ†for I had left Death, the Lord knowsвБ†вЄЇвБ†and He onlyвБ†вАФhow far behind meвБ†вЄЇвАЬI have followed many a man throвАЩ France, quoth heвБ†вАФbut never at this mettlesome rate.вАЭвБ†вЄЇвБ†Still he followed,вБ†вЄЇвБ†and still I fled himвБ†вЄЇвБ†but I fled him cheerfullyвБ†вЄЇвБ†still he pursuedвБ†вЄЇвБ†but, like one who pursued his prey without hopeвБ†вЄЇвБ†as he laggвАЩd, every step he lost, softenвАЩd his looksвБ†вЄЇвБ†why should I fly him at this rate? + 

So notwithstanding all the commissary of the post-office had said, I changed the mode of my travelling once more; and, after so precipitate and rattling a course as I had run, I flattered my fancy with thinking of my mule, and that I should traverse the rich plains of Languedoc upon his back, as slowly as foot could fall. + 

There is nothing more pleasing to a travellerвБ†вЄЇвБ†or more terrible to travel-writers, than a large rich plain; especially if it is without great rivers or bridges; and presents nothing to the eye, but one unvaried picture of plenty: for after they have once told you, that вАЩtis delicious! or delightful! (as the case happens)вБ†вАФthat the soil was grateful, and that nature pours out all her abundance, etcвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ they have then a large plain upon their hands, which they know not what to do withвБ†вАФand which is of little or no use to them but to carry them to some town; and that town, perhaps of little more, but a new place to start from to the next plainвБ†вЄЇвБ†and so on. + 

вАФThis is most terrible work; judge if I donвАЩt manage my plains better. + 

XLIII + 

I had not gone above two leagues and a half, before the man with his gun began to look at his priming. + 

I had three several times loiterвАЩd terribly behind; half a mile at least every time; once, in deep conference with a drum-maker, who was making drums for the fairs of Baucaira and TarasconeвБ†вАФI did not understand the principlesвБ†вЄЇвБ† + 

The second time, I cannot so properly say, I stoppвАЩdвБ†вЄЇвБ†for meeting a couple of Franciscans straitened more for time than myself, and not being able to get to the bottom of what I was aboutвБ†вЄЇвБ†I had turnвАЩd back with themвБ†вЄЇвБ† + 

The third, was an affair of trade with a gossip, for a hand-basket of Provence figs for four sous; this would have been transacted at once; but for a case of conscience at the close of it; for when the figs were paid for, it turnвАЩd out, that there were two dozen of eggs coverвАЩd over with vine-leaves at the bottom of the basketвБ†вАФas I had no intention of buying eggsвБ†вАФI made no sort of claim of themвБ†вАФas for the space they had occupiedвБ†вАФwhat signified it? I had figs enow for my moneyвБ†вЄЇвБ† + 

вАФBut it was my intention to have the basketвБ†вАФit was the gossipвАЩs intention to keep it, without which, she could do nothing with her eggsвБ†вЄЇвБ†and unless I had the basket, I could do as little with my figs, which were too ripe already, and most of вАЩem burst at the side: this brought on a short contention, which terminated in sundry proposals, what we should both doвБ†вЄЇвБ† + 

вЄЇвБ†How we disposed of our eggs and figs, I defy you, or the Devil himself, had he not been there (which I am persuaded he was), to form the least probable conjecture: You will read the whole of itвБ†вЄїnot this year, for I am hastening to the story of my uncle TobyвАЩs amoursвБ†вАФbut you will read it in the collection of those which have arose out of the journey across this plainвБ†вАФand which, therefore, I call my + 

plain stories. + 

How far my pen has been fatigued, like those of other travellers, in this journey of it, over so barren a trackвБ†вАФthe world must judgeвБ†вАФbut the traces of it, which are now all set oвАЩ vibrating together this moment, tell me вАЩtis the most fruitful and busy period of my life; for as I had made no convention with my man with the gun, as to timeвБ†вАФby stopping and talking to every soul I met, who was not in a full trotвБ†вАФjoining all parties before meвБ†вАФwaiting for every soul behindвБ†вАФhailing all those who were coming through crossroadsвБ†вАФarresting all kinds of beggars, pilgrims, fiddlers, friarsвБ†вЄЇвБ†not passing by a woman in a mulberry-tree without commending her legs, and tempting her into conversation with a pinch of snuffвБ†вЄїIn short, by seizing every handle, of what size or shape soever, which chance held out to me in this journeyвБ†вАФI turned my plain into a cityвБ†вАФI was always in company, and with great variety too; and as my mule loved society as much as myself, and had some proposals always on his part to offer to every beast he metвБ†вАФI am confident we could have passed through Pall-Mall, or St.¬†JamesвАЩs-Street for a month together, with fewer adventuresвБ†вАФand seen less of human nature. + 

O! there is that sprightly frankness, which at once unpins every plait of a LanguedocianвАЩs dressвБ†вАФthat whatever is beneath it, it looks so like the simplicity which poets sing of in better daysвБ†вАФI will delude my fancy, and believe it is so. + 

вАЩTwas in the road betwixt Nismes and Lunel, where there is the best Muscatto wine in all France, and which by the by belongs to the honest canons of MontpellierвБ†вАФand foul befall the man who has drank it at their table, who grudges them a drop of it. + 

вЄЇвБ†The sun was setвБ†вАФthey had done their work; the nymphs had tied up their hair afreshвБ†вАФand the swains were preparing for a carousalвБ†вЄЇвБ†my mule made a dead pointвБ†вЄЇвАЩTis the fife and tabourin, said IвБ†вЄЇвБ†IвАЩm frightenвАЩd to death, quoth heвБ†вЄЇвБ†They are running at the ring of pleasure, said I, giving him a prickвБ†вЄЇвБ†By saint Boogar, and all the saints at the backside of the door of purgatory, said heвБ†вАФ(making the same resolution with the abbesse of Ando√Љillets) IвАЩll not go a step furtherвБ†вЄївАЩTis very well, sir, said IвБ†вЄЇвБ†I never will argue a point with one of your family, as long as I live; so leaping off his back, and kicking off one boot into this ditch, and tвАЩother into thatвБ†вАФIвАЩll take a dance, said IвБ†вАФso stay you here. + 

A sunburnt daughter of Labour rose up from the group to meet me, as I advanced towards them; her hair, which was a dark chesnut approaching rather to a black, was tied up in a knot, all but a single tress. + 

We want a cavalier, said she, holding out both her hands, as if to offer themвБ†вАФAnd a cavalier ye shall have; said I, taking hold of both of them. + 

Hadst thou, Nannette, been arrayвАЩd like a dutchesse! + 

вЄЇвБ†But that cursed slit in thy petticoat! + 

Nannette cared not for it. + 

We could not have done without you, said she, letting go one hand, with self-taught politeness, leading me up with the other. + 

A lame youth, whom Apollo had recompensed with a pipe, and to which he had added a tabourin of his own accord, ran sweetly over the prelude, as he sat upon the bankвБ†вЄЇвБ†Tie me up this tress instantly, said Nannette, putting a piece of string into my handвБ†вАФIt taught me to forget I was a strangerвБ†вЄЇвБ†The whole knot fell downвБ†вЄЇвБ†We had been seven years acquainted. + 

The youth struck the note upon the tabourinвБ†вАФhis pipe followed, and off we boundedвБ†вЄЇвАЬthe duce take that slit!вАЭ + 

The sister of the youth, who had stolen her voice from heaven, sung alternately with her brotherвБ†вЄЇвАЩtwas a Gascoigne roundelay. + 

Viva la joia! + 

Fidon la Tristessa! + 

The nymphs joinвАЩd in unison, and their swains an octave below themвБ†вЄЇвБ† + 

I would have given a crown to have it sewвАЩd upвБ†вАФNannette would not have given a sousвБ†вАФViva la joia! was in her lipsвБ†вАФViva la joia! was in her eyes. A transient spark of amity shot across the space betwixt usвБ†вЄЇвБ†She lookвАЩd amiable!вБ†вЄЇвБ†Why could I not live, and end my days thus? Just Disposer of our joys and sorrows, cried I, why could not a man sit down in the lap of content hereвБ†вЄЇвБ†and dance, and sing, and say his prayers, and go to heaven with this nut-brown maid? Capriciously did she bend her head on one side, and dance up insidiousвБ†вЄЇвБ†Then вАЩtis time to dance off, quoth I; so changing only partners and tunes, I danced it away from Lunel to MontpellierвБ†вЄЇвБ†from thence to Pes√Іnas, BeziersвБ†вЄЇвБ†I danced it along through Narbonne, Carcasson, and Castle Naudairy, till at last I danced myself into PerdrilloвАЩs pavillion, where pulling out a paper of black lines, that I might go on straight forwards, without digression or parenthesis, in my uncle TobyвАЩs amoursвБ†вЄЇвБ† + 

I begun thusвБ†вЄЇвБ† + 