Ayrshire History

To Mr Mill, Philpot Lane, London, Angleterre.

Toulouse Feb 24 1763

Sir,

I have this day return’d from Mr Oswald, whom I have been with ever since my last Letter; and should not have stirrd from him now, but that some business unavoidably called me away. Since that letter he is so much worse, that tho’ his Physician had told me when I took him into the Country, there was nothing further to be done for him, yet I could not refrain desiring a Consultation of the Faculty last Sunday in the Country, as I thought it would be a Consolation to all his friends that nothing was omitted, as likewise to Mr Oswald himself that he had not been a wanting to himself. It gives me the greatest concern, that I can write you no better account than what I am going to do, which is, that the Issue of this Consultation was hopeless—One, the Professor of Physic in the University, who is a very able man, says it is impossible this poor Creature should recover—his lungs being quite wasted & gone & every other Symptom of the last Stage of such a situation, hastening upon it—I shall return to him tomorrow, & attend him (I dare say) while he lives—He is sensible of his danger tho’ not without hopes at Intervals—He has desired me in case he dies, to take care of securing his effects—& after that to give all his wearing apparel whatever, & 20 Guineas to his Domestick [who has] taken great Care of him during his Illness.—His watch, he has desired me to wear for him as long as I shall live—which be assured I shall do—but only on one Proviso—That I am desired also by his father to do so.—I thought it fit to pre–acquaint you with this—& to assure you, whatever you direct, shall be faithfully executed.—This Letter is wrote unknown to Mr Oswald—

I have the honour to be, with the sincrest Condolement, Sir,

Yr most humble & Obedient Servt,

[signed] L. Sterne.

To Monsr Mill, Philpot Lane, London.

Toulouse March 2d 1763

O my dear Sir, our friend poor Oswald is no more—he breath’d his last in my arms last night at eleven o’clock, and a few hours before he died desired I would write you a Letter full of acknowledgements and thanks for all your kindnesses to him—as strong as you can, my dear Sterne, said he, grasping my hand, & you will not write more than I feel upon that head. He beg’d you would bid adieu for him to all his friends—but made me promise I would write a Letter myself to his father, which I should have done by this post, but that, I have been up with him four nights, which with the agitation of Spirits & of Business, & the anxietys which the Curé [he has Curè] has inhumanly caused me, have brought on a spitting of blood (tho’ slight) with a fever, wch I suppose will give way to a few days rest with my family. The next post you may expect a very long Letter with an Acct. of the expenses wch this worthy Soul’s Catastrophe has occasioned—These have been high these last 30 days—he has left what [remains] in his purse to his Servant, with a request to his father to pay him 20 Guineas—for his great Attention to him during his Illness—I do the Man no more than strict Justice in saying he has attended him since he came to Toulouse with great Assiduity & fidelity—& wth an appearance of great attachment, which made our poor friend take the Liberty of promising his this recompense—with his Wardrobe—which is not very considerable, & excepting a few pair of laced Ruffles which he purchased 2dhand at Florence—will not produce (I hope) too much for him.

To this, our friend has made a Donation of ten Guineas to a very worthy creature (notwithstanding [he] is a popish priest)—in recompense to the great & I’m sure undisguised concern he had all along shown for him in his Illness—when Ever I was from him, the young fellow was never from his bedside, & did him every office his Wants required, in a Way which shew’d, his Service came from his heart—This young fellow I shall love & honour for the goodness of his disposition, & the great fellow feeling he shew’d to our friend—the longest day I live—& I assure you had he not fallen into Better hands—I would have recompensed him myself. This is all, our friend has left me in trust—except, as I told you, my engagement to wear his watch for his sake to my death—and his Sword whilst I was abroad—which I shall do, because I think it an honour to wear a mark of any good Soul’s friendship—but another Condition will be wanting—which I mentioned in my last.

And now my dear Sir, after condoling most cordially with You on this Occasion, Suffer me to hope—That in losing one friend in him—I may gain one in You—Our friend gave me and raised in me this Desire—& if you will not let me be yr friend—I shall lead you a sad life—& count you like Mistress on my return to England, till I make you accept of me, to be quiet by me.

I am wth the truest Esteem

My dear Sir

Yrs [signed] L. Sterne.

Toulouse March 4 1763

Sir,

It is with all imaginable concern That I inform You of what will give you so much anguish of heart—the death of Mr Oswald your Son, who as he drew near his end, laid this burden upon me, That the moment I closed his eyes, I would write to you, and return thanks to You on his part for all your Kindnesses and tokens of Affection to him—upon which he desired me particularly to say, "That never did a Son leave a Father behind him with a warmer feeling of how much he owed you on this head, Than he did." He wish’d me to add, That for any indiscretions by which he had ever given you pain, he beg’d your pardon a thousand times, and was assured your affection for him would forget them.

As he was far from those who loved him, I found myself the more attached to him throughout his Illness, and would have done any thing in the world to have saved him—but his Lungs were gone—& all I could do, was to prolong his Life a few weeks, & beguile him of some painful & melancholly hours.

It will be some, nay, a great consolation to You, That he bore his Illness like a Man and like a Christian—with the greatest fortitude and Resignation—and at last recd the notice from me of his situation without any emotion—but that of Religion—God’s will be done (he said)—I pray God, the same thought my comfort You, my dear Sir, for I cannot conclude with a better Impression.

I am wth the truest Regard, Sir,

Yr most obliged & most humble Servant

[signed] L. Sterne.

Toulouse March 5 1763

My dear Sir,

I am just got well enough to thank you for your most obliging Letter, which I recd not till the day after I forwarded my last to you, indeed you over–rate any Service I have done to poor Mr Oswald—I had a disposision, and a very strong one, to have befriended him, for I never knew a person I felt myself more attach’d to in so short an acquaintance as I did to this worthy creature—but I am not to be thank’d for this—& if I was I am doubly rewarded by the good Impression it has given me to any one Man of honour & humanity—I ran no risks, dear Sir, with you—nor wth his Father, I am sure.

It will be a consolation to all who loved him to know, that he died in the manner in which a religious parent would wish a virtuous Son—so long as there remaind the least probability of Life—knowing how much depended on cheariness of heart, I kept the Danger of his condition from him—but when this menagement could be of no longer Service to him—I felt I could not answer it either to him or myself, if I did not deal truly with him—a dismal Task indeed! at least so I found it, to be the Messenger of Death to one we love. He recd the news in such a manner as would put Philosophy wth all its Cant, to the blush—"God’s will be done", my good friend, said he without any emotion, but that of religion—& taking hold of my hand, he added that he was more grateful for this last act of friendsp & thank’d me more for it, than for all the others he had recd—he then gave me Directions a 2d time abt the Donations I mentioned in my last and of writing immediately to his father & You—after which he spent the day in Devotion—& expired without pain, as I sat by his bed side, at eleven that night. He desired he might be opend—& that I would be present—for which he gave me a reason wch bespoke the best of hearts—the Shot he had recd between his Lungs & Stomach, had sometimes raised Queries, whether that might have been the cause of his death, by laying the foundation of some Abscess in those parts—& he wish’d to have it clear’d up—That in case it was not so, the Gentleman might be freed from the Load of supposing himself the Instrument of his Death—He was open’d by the Professor of Anatomy in the presence of the attending Physician & myself & it appeared plain the gun shot would had no Connection with his Malady—which was intirely in the Lungs, the whole of ‘em being full of abscesses—the right Lobe almost entirely skirrous ¹² —& both of ‘em adhering to the pleura, to the greatest degree that the Physician & Surgeon had ever seen—so that twas a miracle how he has lived at all, these last 3 months; & I’m persuaded had it not been for the greatest attention to himself—& some care of his friends for him, he had been at rest from his Labours six weeks ago.

In some evening’s chit chat with you (for I flatter myself with many)—when the atmosphere is heavy, & the heart is too heavy too, for lighter stories—I’ll tell a long one (which by the way I dare not write) of the dangers & vexations I encountered in snatching his effects out of the hands of Villany & extortion—I had a file of musketters sent to take me in durance—I escaped by a by way to the Town house, & made a shift to tell my Story so well, That I marchd back with a 2d File, to dislodge the first—("more I say not—else more would I say, of the Battles I have been obliged to Fight since our retreat in the Country agst a brace of fiery Ecclesiasticks—of the barbarity & insults shewn towards me, in my attempts to have him buried—but all cruel actions begin in the name of the Lord") as they did.

I have conquer’d all, at last, & our friend is laid at rest, in the best manner our Situations would let me.

I am enabled to send you an acct. within 2 or 3 guineas at least of what is expended.—The Physician was the most intractable—as fees are low here, he would have thought himself not ill paid by a french man, with ten or twelve Guineas—& when I came to negociate with him—he talked of nothing less than 30 Louis—They think the english are made of money—I have brought him down to 20 Guineas—he has attended 3 Months for it—‘tis full enough—but more what I have laid out beyond what Mr Oswald gave me Cash for, is in a little Compass, & is as follows.

This is all (except some very trifles) which is wanting to clear our poor friend with this side of the world, of which I would not have been in so much haste to have sent you the account, but that his Domestick is necessarily detain’d here from returning to Italy, & at Mr Oswald’s expense till he is enabled by the receipt of his wages &c to depart, which he cannot do till I receive money from you, for which I could not take the Liberty of drawing, till you was apprized of the particulars, & upon what Scores the Summ was wanted.

As his Servant has taken possession of his Wardrobe—the Inventory of what remained is a very short one—consisting of a gauze bed Curtain to keep off Muskettos—a morocco pocket book silver clasps—an Ettuy ¹³ of fish skin, and a post Chaise, which tho’ it cost him 20 pounds is a very sorry one, & will not, as I’m informed be sold for more than six guineas—with these, there are abt 80 english books—tho’ I believe not so many; & if upon Computation they will bear the expence of Voiturage to England, & of Duties at the Customs house, I will bring with me—in the mean time as my wife & daughter are in Distress for a few english books, having brought none with them, If Mr Oswald will give them leave to read and take care of them till our return, ‘twil be taken and acknowledged as our obligation. What the post Chaise sells for, I will order my bookseller to pay into yr hands.

If you cannot think of a quicker way of transmitting the money—In case tis paid to Mr [Scloin?] & Foley Bankers (I know not in what street)—with a Line to Foley rue St. Saveur in Paris ¹⁴ —to remit the money directly to me here—it will find its way & enable the Italien to find his way also to his own Country—I wish to God I was in my own too—that amongst the many other pleasures & advantages I propose, I might have that of making myself known to You—for I am dear Sir, with the highest esteem for your Character & Virtues

Yr most obliged & faithful

[signed] Lau. Sterne.

Toulouse March 18 1763

Dear Sir,

I have this moment recd the favour of yours of the 26 of Feby, and before this comes to your hands you will have recd from Mr Mill a number of melancholy ones, all directed to him, from my Ignorance how to direct to You, and not caring to ask a question of poor Mr Oswald which might awaken a suspicion, that I was writing to you unknown to him—Most gladly would I have saved this al–worthy Creature for the great Love I bore him, and for the pity I bore to those, who I knew must love him still more—But He, my dear Sir, who loved him more than Father or Mother, or the tenderest of friends, has thought fit to order Things otherwise—his will be done—it is the only Consolation under the many heart–felt Losses of this kind we are smit with in this Turbulent Passage—& devoutly do I pray to Him who directs all our Events that you my bear up against this, & recover the wound, if possible, without a Scar: I say if possible—because your Loss is truly great & scarse retrievable—for unless my good will towards him has misled my Judgement of him, He was a Treasure of all that was good & virtuous in a young heart—inflexibly honest in his Sentiments—of great Truth & plainess in his words—hated every Thing that look’d like equivocation,—or that was mean or Meanhearted—He has a just [––––?] ¹⁵ of Religion, with an Abhorrence of Vice & whatever was debauch’d or savour’d of profess’d Libertinism, So that I have seen him often a Check, but always a Lesson to those of twice his Years. Had God spared him, he had agreed to live with me, so long as he staid in these parts—my House had room enough in it for so good a soul, and my Wife who loved him as if hads been her own Son, would have nursed him with the tenderest care—but alas!

What you entrusted me to sift out concerning his elder Brother, I had been prompted to do myself, from this natural Conclusion (for he had told me the Story)—That You would be anxious, when Providence withdrew this Staff from you, to have the Other restored to you—he often talkd to me abt this unfortunate Step of his Brothers, taken upon some sudden disgust, and perhaps in from a wrong Judged Valliancy of Temper, than other motive—He gave me the same Account of his Disposision, that you have done, said he was a just & honest man—but intractably an Enemy to himself. The last Day of his Life which I spent entirly alone with him,—I wish’d him to recollect what pass’d between his Brother & him, when he bid him farewell,—& particularly to tell me what place he first went; he told me he was as much in the dark about that,—and of what were his Views & Destination, as you were. That the Day he left London, his Brother came into the Counting house to him, & shaking him wth some emotion, by the hand,—said "God bless you, George—but as for me, You will never see me more."—Still, dear Sir, I trust in Providence, that the bitterest Portion of this Prediction is fulfilled; and that whenever or wherever he shall come to hear how cruelly You suffer for the Loss of George—he will fly to your Arms to comfort You. Pray consider with yourself, if I can be of any kind of Service to you in this affair in this part of the world: In two Months, I shall be at the celebrated Spaws of Bagnyars upon the Confines of Spain,¹⁶ where there is all the Summer a Confluence of people from all nations—it is by a multitude of Enquiries & Trials, that more entangled Things have been unravell’d—If to his Name, I had an exact Description of his Person—I would not leave a Stranger unask’d, or one unemploy’d on his return home, to aid us in this search—& I do assure You, Sir, it would not be a short Journey that would stop me in my attempts to find out this poor stray’d sheep, and bring him back to the fold.¹⁷

I return you my acknowledgments for the kind Things you say of me—but in truth, there deserves no more to be said of it, but that I acted here, and hope I ever shall do so, only as I wish others wd act by me or mine, in like distress – & that is with humanity. I valued your Son, & shall ever honour his memory—but that is another affair.

The Stile in which You found it necessary to write to him upon his pecuniary Transgressions—I see gives You pain; and nothing shews a kind & paternal temper so strongly, as these Strokes of Nature & goodness in your Letters—I assure you, dear Sir, he considered them in the light they deserv;—as the truest tokens of the tenderest Love and most ardent Wished for his Wellfare; & I am confident, the only pain he felt, was the Consciousness of the pain he had given You—he had a heart at once open to conviction—& upon that point, You wd never more have been disturbed, for he had too much Sense to be long a property to Fools, and too much honesty of heart & penetration to continue a Dupe to Knaves—Your Seasonable Letter rescued him only a little earlier from both than he might have done it himself, & this was not one of the least Tokens of Yr Love with wch his heart was penetrated, when he begg’d me to thank you for all your Benefits to him

Adieu, dear Sir, I have the truest Compassion for yr Loss, for I am with the highest Veneration of your good heart and principles.

Yr faithful & most humble Servt,

L. Sterne.

P.S. The Credit of £100 wch yr Son had leave to make use of in Decr I suppose is the same, you mentioned to him in a letter, a most cordially & fatherly one,—which he recd and sent to me abt ten days before he died. I took the Liberty to ask him, what he had done with the money—he told me it had been spent many many months before—I suppose, from his Servant’s Acct in his Journey from Italy to Montpelier—his Expenses there,—Physicians, Apothecarys, Chaise, a Present of Claret to Capt Jonings Sister &c &c—all wch is the more likely because he [ 2 or 3 words lost at torn fold] wth no more than 5 or 6 Louis d’ors in his Pocket—so not one halfpenny of that £100 ever reach’d Toulouse—In short he owed it—& had borrowed the money before he got the Credit—& the Moment he recd the Obligation from You, he discharged his Obligations to others with it. As his last Month or six Weeks was very expensive—he was inclined to have outgone, his Appointment—but I had my reasons agst his drawing for more than usual especially, as I believed my purse would be large enough for us both, for the time he would have Occasion. All his papers I seald up the day before his last, & as I shall possibly be in England as soon as You, shall deliver them safely into Yr own or Mr Mill’s hands.