(Vol. v., p. 105.)
I inclose a copy of an autograph letter of Sterne's written when at
Paris. It is very interesting, and is not contained among his published
letters. Some few words are illegible, and several of the proper names
may be inaccurately copied.
"Paris, March 15, 1762.
"My Dear,--Having an opportunity of writing by a physician, who is
posting off for London to-day, I would not omit doing it, though you
will possibly receive a letter (which is gone from hence last post) at
the very same time. I send to Mr. Foley's every mail-day, to inquire for
a letter from you; and if I do not get one in a post or two, I shall be
greatly surprised and disappointed. A terrible fire happened here last
night, the whole fair of St. Germain's burned to the ground in a few
hours; and hundreds of unhappy people are now going crying along the
streets, ruined totally by it. This fair of St. Germain's is built upon
a spot of ground covered and tiled, as large as the Minster Yard,
entirely of wood, divided into shops, and formed into little streets,
like a town in miniature. All the artizans in the kingdom come with
their wares--jewellers, silversmiths,--and have free leave from all
parts of the world to profit by general licence from the Carnival to
Easter. They compute the loss at six millions of livres, which these
poor creatures have sustained, not one of which have saved a single
shilling, and many fled out in their shirts, and have not only lost
their goods and merchandize, but all the money they have been taking
these six weeks. _Oh! ces moments de malheur sont terribles_, said my
barber to me, as he was shaving me this morning; and the good-natured
fellow uttered it with so moving an accent, that I could have found in
my heart to have cried over the perishable and uncertain tenure of every
good in this life.
"I have been three mornings together to hear a celebrated pulpit orator
near me, one Père Clement, who delights me much; the parish pays him 600
livres for a dozen sermons this Lent; he is K. Stanislas's
preacher--most excellent indeed! his matter solid, and to the purpose;
his manner, more than theatrical, and greater, both in his action and
delivery, than Madame Clairon, who, you must know, is the Garrick of the
stage here; he has infinite variety, and keeps up the attention by it
wonderfully; his pulpit, oblong, with three seats in it, into which he
occasionally casts himself; goes on, then rises, by a gradation of four
steps, each of which he profits by, as his discourse inclines him: in
short, 'tis a stage, and the variety of his tones would make you imagine
there were no less than five or six actors on it together.
"I was last night at Baron de Bagg's concert; it was very fine, both
music and company; and to-night I go to the Prince of Conti's. There is
a Monsieur Popignière, who lives here like sovereign prince; keeps a
company of musicians always in his house, and a full set of players; and
gives concerts and plays alternately to the grandees of this metropolis;
he is the richest of all the farmer...; he did me the honour last night
to send me an invitation to his house, while I stayed here--that is, to
his music and table.
"I suppose you had terrible snows in Yorkshire, from the accounts I read
in the London papers. There has been no snow here, but the weather has
been sharp; and was I to be all the day in my room, I could not keep
myself warm for a shilling a day. This is an expensive article to great
houses here--'tis most pleasant and most healthy firing; I shall never
bear coals I fear again; and if I can get wood at Coswold, I will always
have a little. I hope Lydia is better, and not worse, and that I shall
hear the same account of you. I hope my Lydia goes on with her French; I
speak it fast and fluent, but incorrect both in accent and phrase; but
the French tell me I speak it most surprisingly well for the time. In
six weeks I shall get over all difficulties, having got over one of the
worst, which is to understand whatever is said by others, which I own I
found much trouble in at first.
"My love to my Lyd----. I have got a colour into my face now, though I
came with no more than there is in a dishclout.
"I am your affectionate
"L. STERNE.
"For Mrs. Sterne at York."