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A SENTIMENTAL JOURNEY
by Laurence Sterne Copyright note
We thank The Gutenberg Projekt for this public domain version -
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-and bid adieu.
IN THE STREET. CALAIS.
I never finished a twelve guinea bargain so expeditiously in my life: my time seemed heavy, upon the loss of the lady, and knowing every moment of it would be as two, till I put myself into motion,- -I ordered post horses directly, and walked towards the hotel.
Lord! said I, hearing the town clock strike four, and recollecting that I had been little more than a single hour in Calais, -
- What a large volume of adventures may be grasped within this little span of life by him who interests his heart in every thing, and who, having eyes to see what time and chance are perpetually holding out to him as he journeyeth on his way, misses nothing he can FAIRLY lay his hands on!
- If this won't turn out something,--another will;--no matter,-- 'tis an assay upon human nature--I get my labour for my pains,-- 'tis enough;--the pleasure of the experiment has kept my senses and the best part of my blood awake, and laid the gross to sleep.
I pity the man who can travel from Dan to Beersheba, and cry, 'Tis all barren;--and so it is: and so is all the world to him who will not cultivate the fruits it offers. I declare, said I, clapping my hands cheerily together, that were I in a desert, I would find out wherewith in it to call forth my affections: --if I could not do better, I would fasten them upon some sweet myrtle, or seek some melancholy cypress to connect myself to;--I would court their shade, and greet them kindly for their protection.--I would cut my name upon them, and swear they were the loveliest trees throughout the desert: if their leaves wither'd, I would teach myself to mourn; and, when they rejoiced, I would rejoice along with them.
The learned Smelfungus travelled from Boulogne to Paris,--from Paris to Rome,--and so on;--but he set out with the spleen and jaundice, and every object he pass'd by was discoloured or distorted.--He wrote an account of them, but 'twas nothing but the account of his miserable feelings.
I met Smelfungus in the grand portico of the Pantheon: --he was just coming out of it.--'TIS NOTHING BUT A HUGE COCKPIT, said he: - -I wish you had said nothing worse of the Venus of Medicis, replied I;--for in passing through Florence, I had heard he had fallen foul upon the goddess, and used her worse than a common strumpet, without the least provocation in nature.
I popp'd upon Smelfungus again at Turin, in his return home; and a sad tale of sorrowful adventures had he to tell, "wherein he spoke of moving accidents by flood and field, and of the cannibals that each other eat: the Anthropophagi:"--he had been flayed alive, and bedevil'd, and used worse than St. Bartholomew, at every stage he had come at. -
- I'll tell it, cried Smelfungus, to the world. You had better tell it, said I, to your physician.
Mundungus, with an immense fortune, made the whole tour; going on
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