The Adventures of Gil Blas of Santillane, Alain René le Sage [most read books .txt] 📗
- Author: Alain René le Sage
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taking out the blood as we put in the water, we reduced the old
canon to death’s door in less than two days.
This venerable ecclesiastic, able to hold it out no longer, as I
pledged him in a large glass of his new cordial, said to me in a
faint voice — Hold, Gil Blas, do not give me any more, my
friend. It is plain death will come when he will come, in spite
of water; and, though I have hardly a drop of blood in my veins,
I am no better for getting rid of the enemy. The ablest physician
in the world can do nothing for us, when our time is expired.
Fetch a notary; I will make my will. At these last words,
pleasing enough to my fancy, I affected to appear unhappy; and
concealing my impatience to be gone: Sir, said I, you are not
reduced so low, thank God, but you may yet recover. No, no,
interrupted he, my good fellow, it is all over. I feel the gout
shifting, and the hand of death is upon me. Make haste, and go
where I told you. I saw, sure enough, that he changed every
moment: and the case was so urgent, that I ran as fast as I
could, leaving him in Dame Jacintha’s care, who was more afraid
than myself of his dying without a will. I laid hold of the first
notary I could find; Sir, said I, the Licentiate S�dillo, my
master, is drawing near his end; he wants to settle his affairs;
there is not a moment to be lost. The notary was a dapper little
fellow, who loved his joke; and inquired who was our physician.
At the name of Doctor Sangrado, hurrying on his cloak and hat:
For mercy’s sake! cried he, let us set off with all possible
speed; for this doctor dispatches business so fast, that our
fraternity cannot keep pace with him. That fellow spoils half my
jobs.
With this sarcasm, he set forward in good earnest, and, as we
pushed on, to get the start of the grim tyrant, I said to him:
Sir, you are aware that a dying testator’s memory is sometimes a
little short; should my master chance to for get me, be so good
as to put in a word in my favour. That I will, my lad, replied
the little proctor; you may rely on it. I will urge something
handsome, if I have an opportunity. The licentiate, on our
arrival, had still all his faculties about him. Dame Jacintha was
by his bedside, laying in her tears by wholesale. She had played
her game, and bespoken a handsome remembrance. We left the notary
alone with my master, and went together into the anti-chamber,
where we met the surgeon, sent by the physician for another and a
last experiment. We laid hold of him. Stop, Master Martin, said
the housekeeper, you cannot go into Signor S�dillo’s room just
now. He is giving his last orders; but you may bleed away when
the will is made.
We were terribly afraid, this pious gentlewoman and I, lest the
licentiate should go off with his will half finished; but by good
luck, the important deed was executed. We saw the proctor come
out, who, finding me on the watch, slapped me on the shoulder,
and said with a simper: Gil Blas is not forgotten. At these
words, I felt the must lively joy; and was so well pleased with
my master for his kind notice, that I promised myself the
pleasure of praying for his soul after death, which event
happened anon; for the surgeon having bled him once more, the
poor old man, quite exhausted, gave up the ghost under the
lancet. Just as he was breathing his last, the physician made his
appearance, and looked a little foolish, notwithstanding the
universality of his death-bed experience. Yet far from imputing
the accident to the new practice, he walked off, affirming with
intrepidity, that it was owing to their having been too lenient
with the lancet, and too chary of their warm water. The medical
executioner, I mean the surgeon, seeing that his functions also
were at an end, followed Doctor Sangrado.
As soon as we saw the breath out of our patron’s body, Dame
Jacintha, In�silla, and myself, joined in a decent chorus of
funeral lamentation, loud enough to produce a proper effect in
the neighbourhood. The emblem of a life to come, though she had
more reason than any of us to rejoice, took the soprano part, and
screamed out her afflictions in a most pathetic manner. The room
in an instant was crowded with people, attracted less by
compassion than curiosity. The relations of the deceased no
sooner got wind of his departure than they pounced down upon the
premises, and sealed up everything. From the housekeeper’s
distreess they thought there was no will; but they soon found
their mistake, and that there was one without a flaw. When it was
opened, and they learned the disposition of the testator’s
principal property, in favour of Dame Jacintha and the little
girl, they pronounced his funeral oration in terms not a little
disparaging to his memory. They gave a broad apostrophe at the
same time to the godly legatee, and a few blessings to me in my
turn. It must be owned I had earned them. The licentiate, heaven
reward him for it, to secure my remembrances through life,
expressed himself thus in a paragraph of his will — Item, as
Gil Blas has already some little smattering of literature, to
encourage his studious habits, I give and bequeath to him my
library, all my books and my manuscripts, without any drawback or
exception.
I could not conceive where this said library might be; I had
never seen any. I only knew of some papers, with five or six
bound books, on two little deal shelves in my master’s closet;
and that was my legacy. The books too could be of no great use to
me; the title of one was, The complete Man Cook; another, A
Treatise on Indigestion, with the Methods of Cure; the rest were
the four parts of the breviary, half eaten up by the worms. In
the article of manuscripts, the most curious consisted of
documents relating to a lawsuit in which the prebendary was once
engaged for his stall. After having examined my legacy with more
minuteness than it deserved, I made over my right and title to
these invidious relations. I even renounced my livery, and took
back my own suit, claiming my wages as my only reward. I then
went to look out for another place. As for Dame Jacintha, besides
her residue under the will, she had some snug little articles,
which, by the help of her good friend, she had appropriated to
her own use during the last illness of the licentiate.
CH. III. — Gil Blas enters into Doctor Sangrado’s service, and
becomes a famous practitioner.
I DETERMINED to throw myself in the way of Signor Arias de
Londona, and to look out for a new berth in his register; but as
I was on my way to No Thoroughfare, who should come across me but
Doctor Sangrado, whom I had not seen since the day of my master’s
death. I took the liberty of touching my hat. He kenned me in a
twinkling, though I had changed my dress; and with as much warmth
as his temperament would allow him; Hey day! said he, the very
lad I wanted to see; you have never been out of my thought. I
have occasion for a clever fellow about me, and pitched upon you
as the very thing, if you can read and write. Sir, replied I, if
that is all you require, I am your man. In that case, rejoined
he, we need look no further. Come home with me; it will be all
comfort: I shall behave to you like a brother. You will have no
wages, but everything will be found you. You shall eat and drink
according to the true faith, and be taught to cure all diseases.
In a word, you shall rather be my young Sangrado than my footman.
I closed in with the doctor’s proposal, in the hope of becoming
an Esculapius under so inspired a master. He carried me home on
the spur of the occasion, to instal me in my honourable
employment; which honourable employment consisted in writing down
the name and residence of the patients who sent for him in his
absence. There had indeed been a register for this purpose, kept
by an old domestic; but she had not the gift of spelling
accurately, and wrote a most perplexing hand. This account I was
to keep. It might truly be called a bill of mortality; for my
members all went from bad to worse during the short time they
continued in this system. I was a sort of book-keeper for the
other world, to take places in the stage, and to see that the
first come were the first served. My pen was always in my hand,
for Doctor Sangrado had more practice than any physician of his
time in Valladolid. He had got into reputation with the public by
a certain professional slang, humoured by a medical face, and
some extraordinary cases, more honoured by implicit faith than
scrupulous investigation.
He was in no want of patients, nor consequently of property. He
did not keep the best house in the world; we lived with some
little attention to economy. The usual bill of fare consisted of
peas, beans, boiled apples or cheese. He considered this food as
best suited to the human stomach, that is to say, as most
amenable to the grinders, whence it was to encounter the process
of digestion. Nevertheless, easy as was their passage, he was not
for stopping the way with too much of them: and, to be sure, he
was in the right. But though he cautioned the maid and me against
repletion in respect of solids, it was made up by free permission
to drink as much water as we liked. Far from prescribing us any
limits there, he would tell us sometimes — Drink, my children;
health consists in the pliability and moisture of the parts.
Drink water by pails full, it is a universal dissolvent; water
liquefies all the salts. Is the course of the blood a little
sluggish? this grand principle sets it forward: too rapid? its
career is checked. Our doctor was so orthodox on this head, that
he drank nothing himself but water, though advanced in years. He
defined old age to be a natural consumption which dries us up and
wastes us away: on this principle, he deplored the ignorance of
those who call wine old men’s milk. He maintained that wine wears
them out and corrodes them, and pleaded with all the force of
eloquence against that liquor, fatal in common both to the young
and old, that friend with a serpent in its bosom, that pleasure
with a dagger under its girdle.
In spite of these fine arguments, at the end of a week a
looseness ensued, with some twinges, which I was blasphemous
enough to saddle on the universal dissolvent, and the new-fashioned diet. I stated my symptoms to my master, in the hope he
would relax the rigour of his regimen, and qualify my meals with
a little wine, but his hostility to that liquor was inflexible.
If you have not philosophy enough, said he, for pure water, there
are innocent infusions to strengthen the stomach against the
nausea of aqueous quaffings. Sage, for example, has a very pretty
flavour: and if you wish to heighten it into a debauch, it is
only mixing rosemary, wild
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