Glyn Hughes' SQUASHED WRITERS ALL THE BOOKS YOU THINK YOU OUGHT TO HAVE READ In their own words... but magically Squashed into half-hour short stories...

The Squashed version of
A Sentimental Journey Through France and Italy
by
Laurence Sterne
1768

I: ACROSS THE CHANNEL

"They order," said I, "this matter better in France!" "You have been in France?1' said my gentleman, turning quick upon me with the most civil triumph in the world.

"Strange!" quoth I, debating the matter with myself, "that one and twenty miles' sailing, for 'tis absolutely no farther from Dover to Calais, should give a man these rights- I'll look into them." So, giving up the argument, I went straight to my lodging, put up half a dozen shirts and a pair of black silk breeches- "The coat I hove on," said I, looking at the sleeve, "will do"- took a place in the Dover stage; and the packet sailing at nine the next morning) by three I had got sat down to my dinner upon a fricaseed chicken- incontestably in France.

When I had finish'd my dinner, and drunk the King of France's health, to satisfy my mind that I bore him no spleen, but, on the contrary, high honour for the humanity of his temper, I rose up, an inch taller for the accommodation.

"Just Heaven!" said I, kicking my portmanteau aside, "what is there in this world's goods which should sharpen our Spirits, and make so many kind-hearted brethren of us fall out so cruelly as we do by the way?"

I had scarce uttered the words when a poor monk of the order of St. Francis came into the room to beg something for his convent. No man cares to have his virtues the sport of contingencies. The moment I cast my eyes upon him I was predetermined not to give him a single sou; and accordingly I put my purse into my pocket, button'd it up, set myself a little more upon my centre, and advanced up gravely to him; there was something, I fear, forbidding in my look, I have his figure this moment before my eyes, and there was that in it which de served better.

The monk, as I judged from the break in his tonsure, a few scatter'd white hairs upon his temples being all that remained of it, might be about seventy he was certainly sixty-five. It was one of those heads which Guido has often painted-mild, pale, penetrating, free from all commonplace ideas of fat, con tented ignorance looking downwards upon the earth.- it look'd forward; but look'd as if it look'd at something beyond this world.

When he had entered the room three paces he stood still, and laying his left hand upon his breast, when I had got close up to him. he introduced himself with the little story of the wants of his convent, and the poverty of his order, and did it with so simple a grace I was bewitch'd not to have been struck with it.

A better reason was, I had predeter mined not to give him a single sou.

" 'Tis very true," said I, " 'tis very true; and heaven be their resource who have no other but the charity of the world, the stock of which, I fear, is in no way sufficient for the many great claims which are hourly made upon it."

As I pronounced the words "great claims" he gave a single glance with his eye downwards upon the sleeve of his tunic, I fell the full force of the appeal.

"I acknowledge it," said I, "a coarse habit and that but once in three years, with meagre diet, are no great matters; and the true point of pity is, as they can be earn'd in the world with so little industry, that your order should wish to procure them by pressing upon a fund which is the property of the lame, the blind, the aged and the infirm; and had you been of the order of mercy, instead of the order of St. Francis, poor as I am." continued I, pointing at my portmanteau, "full cheerfully should it have been open'd to you, for the ransom of the unfortunate." The monk made me a bow. "But of all others," resumed I, "the unfortunate of our own country, surely, have the first rights; and I have left thousands in distress upon our own shore."

The monk gave a cordial wave with his head, as much as to say, "No doubt there is misery enough in every comer of the world, as well as within our convent."

"But we distinguish;" said I, laying ray hand upon the sleeve of his tunic, "we distinguish, my good father, betwixt those who wish only to eat the bread of their own labour and those who eat the bread of other people's, and have no other plan in life but to get through it in sloth and ignorance, for the love of God!"

The poor Franciscan made no reply; a hectic of a moment pass'd across his cheek, but could not tarry. Nature seemed to have had done with her resentments in him; he showed none, but press'd his hands with resignation on his breast, and retired.

My heart smote me the -moment he shut the door. "Psha!" said I, with an air of carelessness. But it would not do; every ungracious syllable I had utter'd crowded back into my imagination. I reflected I had no right over the poor Franciscan but to deny him. I consider'd his grey hairs, his courteous figure seem'd to re-enter and gently ask me what injury he had done me. I would have given twenty livres for an advocate. "I have behaved very ill," said I within myself; "but I have only just set out upon my travels and shall learn better manners as I get along.

II: AN EXCHANGE OF SNUFF-BOXES

Now, there being no travelling through France and Italy without a chaise, and nature generally prompting us to the thing we are fittest for, I walk'd out into the coachyard to buy or hire something of that kind to my purpose. Mons. Dessein, the master of the hotel, having just returned from vespers, we walk'd together towards his remise, to take a view of his magazine of chaises.

Suddenly I had turned upon a lady who had just arrived at the inn, and had followed us unperceived. I had already seen her in conference with the Franciscan.

Monsieur Dessein had 'diabled' the key above fifty times before he found out he had come with a wrong one in his hand; we were as impatient as himself to have it open'd, when he left us together, with our faces towards the door, and said he would be back in five minutes.

"'This, certainly, fair lady," said I, "must be one of fortune's whimsical doings, to take two utter strangers by their hands, and in one moment place them together in such a cordial situation as friendship herself could scarce have achieved for them," Then I set myself to consider how I should undo the ill impressions which the poor monk's story, in case he had told it her, must have planted in her breast against me.

The good old monk was within six paces of us as the idea of him cross'd my mind; and was advancing towards us a little out of the line, as if uncertain whether he should break in upon us or no. He stopp'd, however, as soon as he came up to us, with a world of frankness; and, having a horn snuff-box in his hand, he presented it open to me. "You shall taste mine," said I, pulling out my box (which was a small tortoise one) and putting it into his hand.

" 'Tis most excellent." said the monk.

"Then do me the favour" I replied, "to accept of the box and all, and, when you take a pinch out of it, recollect it was the peace offering of a man who once used you unkindly, but not from his heart." The poor monk blush'd as red as scar let.

"Mon Dieu!" said he, pressing his hands together, "you never used me unkindly." "I should think," said the lady, "he is not likely." I blush'd in my turn. "Excuse me, madarne," replied I, "I treated him most unkindly, and from no provocations." " 'Tis impossible," said the lady.

"My God!" cried the monk, with a warmth of asseveration which seem'd not to belong to him, "the fault was in me, and in the indiscretion of my zeal." The lady opposed it, and I joined with her in maintaining it was impossible that a spirit so regulated as his could offend any.

Whilst this contention lasted the monk rubb'd his horn box upon the sleeve of his tunic, and as soon as it had acquired a little air of brightness by the friction, he made a low bow, and said 'twas too late to say whether it was the weakness or goodness of our tempers which had in volved us in this contest. But, be it as it would, he begged we might exchange boxes. In saying this he presented his to me with one hand, as he took mine from me in the other; and having kissed it, he put it into his bosom, and took his leave".

I guard this box as I would the instrumental parts of my religion, to help my mind on to something better; in truth. I seldom go abroad without it; and oft and many a time have I called up by it the courteous spirit of its owner to regulate my own in the jostlings of the world; they had found full employment for his, as I learnt from his story, till about the forty-fifth year of his age, when upon some military services ill requited, and meeting at the same time with a disap pointment in the tenderest of passions, he abandoned the sword and the sex to gether, and took sanctuary, not so much in his convent as in himself.

III: MY FRENCH VALET

I had once lost my portmanteau from behind my chaise, and twice got out in the rain, and! one of the times up to the knees in dirt, to help the postillion to tie it on, without being able to find out what was wanting. Nor was it till I got

to Montreuil, upon the landlord's asking me if I wanted not a servant, that it occurred to me that that was the very thing.

"A servant'! That I do most sadly!" quoth I.

"Because, monsieur," said the landlord, "there is a clever young fellow who would be very proud of the honour to serve an Englishman." "But why an English one more than any other?" "They are so generous," said the land lord.

"I'll be shot if this is not a livre out of my pocket," quoth I to myself, "this very night:' The landlord then called in La Fleur; which was the name of the young man he had spoken of, saying only first, "That as for his talents, he would presume to say nothing- Monsieur "was the best judge what would suit him; but for the fidelity of La Fleur he would stand responsible m all he was worth."

The landlord deliver'd this in a manner which instantly set my mind to the business I was upon; and La Fleur, who stood waiting without, in that breathless expectation which every son of nature of us have felt in our turns, came in.

I am apt to be taken with all kinds of people at first sight, but never more so than when a poor devil comes to offer his service to so poor a devil as myself.

When La Fleur enter'd the room. the genuine look and air of the fellow determined the matter at once in his favour; so I hired him first, and then began to inquire what he could do- "But I shall find out his talents", quoth I, "as I want them. A Frenchman can do everything."

Now, poor La Fleur could do nothing in the world but beat a drum and play a march or two upon the fife. I was determined to make his talents do, and can't say my weakness was ever so insulted by my wisdom as in the attempt.

La Fleur had set out early in life, as gallantly as most Frenchmen do, with 'serving' for a few years, at the end of which, having satisfied the sentiment, and found, moreover, that the honour of beating a drum was likely to be its own reward, as it opened no further track of glory for him, he retired, and lived comme il plaisoit à Dieu; that is to say, upon nothing.

"But you can do something else, La Fleur?" said I.

Oh, yes, he could make spatterdashes - leather riding gaiters- and play a little upon the fiddle.

"Why, I play a bass myself," said I.

"We shall do very well. You can shave, and dress a wig a little, La Fleur?"

He had all the dispositions in the world.

"It is enough for heaven," said I, interrupting him, "and ought to be enough for me."

So supper coming in, and having a frisky English spaniel on one side of my chair, and a French valet, with as much hilarity in his countenance as ever nature painted in one, on the other, I was satisfied to my heart's content with my empire; and if monarchs knew what they would be at, they might be satisfied as I was.

As La Fleur went the whole tour of France and Italy with me, I must interest the reader in his behalf by saying that I had never less reason to repent of the impulses which generally do determine me than in regard to this fellow.

He was a faithful, affectionate, simple soul as ever trudged after the heels of a philosopher; and notwithstanding his talents of drum-beating and spatterdash-making, which, though very good in themselves, happened to be of no great service to me, yet was I hourly recompensed by the festivity of his temper; it supplied all defects. I had a constant resource in his looks, in all difficulties and distresses of my own.

IV: THE PASSPORT, PARIS

When I got home to my hotel, La Fleur told me I had been inquired after by the lieutenant of police. "The deuce take it!" said I. "I know the reason."

I had left London with so much precipitation that it never entered my mind that we were at war with France, and had reached Dover, and looked through my glass at the hills beyond Boulogne before the idea presented itself; and with this in its train- that there was no getting there without a passport.

Go but to the end of a street, I have a mortal aversion for returning back no wiser than I set out; and as this was one of the greatest efforts I had ever made for knowledge, I could less bear the thoughts of it; so hearing the Count de ------ had hired the packet, I begg'd he would take me in his suite. The count had some little knowledge of me, so made little or no difficulty- only said his inclination to serve me could reach no farther than Calais, as he was to return by way of Brussels to Paris. However, when I had once passed there I might get to Paris without interruption, but that in Paris I must make friends and shift for myself.

"Let me get to Paris, Monsieur Ie Count," said I, "and I shall do very well." So I embark'd, and never thought more of the matter.

When La Fleur told me the lieutenant of police had been inquiring after me, the thing instantly recurred; and by the time La Fleur had well told me, the master of the hotel came into my rooms to tell me the same thing, with this addition to it- that my passport had been particularly asked after. The master of the hotel concluded with saying he hoped I had one. "Not I, faith!" said I.

The master of the hotel retired three steps from me, as from an infected person, as I declared this; and poor La Fleur advanced three steps towards me, and with that sort of movement which a good soul makes to succour a distress'd one. The fellow won my heart by it; and from that single trait I knew his character as perfectly, and could rely upon it as firmly, as if he had served me with fidelity for seven years.

"Mon seigneur!" cried the master of the hotel; but recollecting himself as he made the exclamation, he instantly changed the tone of it. '"If, monsieur," said he, "has not a passport, in all likelihood he has friends in Paris who can procure him one." "Not that I know of," quoth I, with an air of indifference.

"Then, certes," replied he, "you'll be sent to the Bastille or the Chatelet, au moms."

"Pooh!" said I. "The king of France is a good-natur'd soul; he'll hurt no body."

"Cela n'empêche pas," said he. "You'll certainly be sent to the Bastille to-morrow morning."

As I am at Versailles, thought I, why should I not go to- the Count de B------- and tell him my story? So seeing a man standing with a basket on the other side of the street, as if he had something to sell, I bid La Fleur go up to him and inquire for the count's hotel.

La Fleur returned, a little pale, and told me it was a Chevalier de St. Louis selling patés. He had seen the croix set in gold, with its red riband, he said, tied to his buttonhole, and had looked into the basket and seen the patés which the chevalier was selling.

Such a reverse in man's life awakens a better principle than curiosity. I got out of the carriage, and went towards him.

He was begirt with a clean linen apron, which fell below his knees, and with a sort of bib that went half-way up his breast. His basket of little patés was covered over with a white damask napkin, and there was a look of propreté and neatness throughout that one might have bought his patés of him as much from appetite as sentiment.

I went up to him, and begged he would explain the appearance which affected me.

He told me in a few words that the best part of his life had pass'd in the service, in which he had obtained a com pany and the croix with it; but that, at the conclusion of the last peace, his regiment being re-formed and the whole corps left without any provision, he found himself in a wide world without friends, without a livre, and, indeed, said he, without anything but this (pointing, as he said it, to his croix). The king could neither relieve nor reward everyone, and it was only his misfortune to be amongst the number. He had a little wife, he said, whom he loved, who did his patisserie; and added he felt no dishonour in defending her and himself from want in this way, unless providence had offer'd him a better.

It would be wicked to pass over what happen'd to this poor chevalier of St. Louis about nine months after.

It seems his story reach'd at last the king's ears, who, hearing the chevalier had been a gallant officer, broke up his little trade by granting him a pension of fifteen hundred livres a year.