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A Sentimental Journey-Part7_Laurence Sterne(1713-1768)_English Literature(文学名著)-第2页

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En attendant - Vive l'amour! et vive la bagatelle!

Je suis, Madame,



Avec tous les sentimens les plus respectueux et les plus tendres,

tout e vous,



Jaques Roque.

It was but changing the Corporal into the Count, - and saying



nothing about mounting guard on Wednesday, - and the letter was

neither right nor wrong: - so, to gratify the poor fellow, who



stood trembling for my honour, his own, and the honour of his

letter, - I took the cream gently off it, and whipping it up in my



own way, I seal'd it up and sent him with it to Madame de L-; - and

the next morning we pursued our journey to Paris.



PARIS.

When a man can contest the point by dint of equipage, and carry all



on floundering before him with half a dozen of lackies and a couple

of cooks - 'tis very well in such a place as Paris, - he may drive



in at which end of a street he will.

A poor prince who is weak in cavalry, and whose whole infantry does



not exceed a single man, had best quit the field, and signalize

himself in the cabinet, if he can get up into it; - I say up into



it - for there is no descending perpendicularamongst 'em with a

"Me voici! mes enfans" - here I am - whatever many may think.



I own my first sensations, as soon as I was left solitary and alone

in my own chamber in the hotel, were far from being so flattering



as I had prefigured them. I walked up gravely to the window in my

dusty black coat, and looking through the glass saw all the world



in yellow, blue, and green, running at the ring of pleasure. - The

old with broken lances, and in helmets which had lost their



vizards; - the young in armour bright which shone like gold,

beplumed with each gay feather of the east, - all, - all, tilting



at it like fascinated knights in tournaments of yore for fame and

love. -



Alas, poor Yorick! cried I, what art thou doing here? On the very

first onset of all this glittering clatter thou art reduced to an



atom; - seek, - seek some winding alley, with a tourniquet at the

end of it, where chariot never rolled or flambeau shot its rays; -



there thou mayest solace thy soul in converse sweet with some kind

grisette of a barber's wife, and get into such coteries! -



- May I perish! if I do, said I, pulling out the letter which I had

to present to Madame de R- - I'll wait upon this lady, the very



first thing I do. So I called La Fleur to go seek me a barber

directly, - and come back and brush my coat.



THE WIG. PARIS.

When the barber came, he absolutely refused to have any thing to do



with my wig: 'twas either above or below his art: I had nothing to

do but to take one ready made of his own recommendation.



- But I fear, friend! said I, this buckle won't stand. - You may

emerge it, replied he, into the ocean, and it will stand. -



What a great scale is every thing upon in this city thought I. -

The utmost stretch of an English periwig-maker's ideas could have



gone no further than to have "dipped it into a pail of water." -

What difference! 'tis like Time to Eternity!



I confess I do hate all cold conceptions, as I do the puny ideas

which engender them; and am generally so struck with the great



works of nature, that for my own part, if I could help it, I never

would make a comparison less than a mountain at least. All that



can be said against the French sublime, in this instance of it, is

this: - That the grandeur is MORE in the WORD, and LESS in the



THING. No doubt, the ocean fills the mind with vast ideas; but

Paris being so far inland, it was not likely I should run post a



hundred miles out of it, to try the experiment; - the Parisian

barber meant nothing. -



The pail of water standing beside the great deep, makes, certainly,

but a sorry figure in speech; - but, 'twill be said, - it has one



advantage - 'tis in the next room, and the truth of the buckle may

be tried in it, without more ado, in a single moment.



In honest truth, and upon a more candid revision of the matter, The

French expression professes more than it performs.



I think I can see the precise and distinguishing marks of national

characters more in these nonsensical minutiae than in the most



important matters of state; where great men of all nations talk and

stalk so much alike, that I would not give ninepence to choose



amongst them.

I was so long in getting from under my barber's hands, that it was






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