4
/',//1 I II[
l i fI
Y tI 
III 1', 


~;~'tV\


UNCLE TOBY.




THE


WORKS
OF
LAURENCE STERNE,


IN ONE VOLUME:
WITH
A LIFE OF THE AUTHOR,


WRITTEN BY HIMSELF.
BEAUTIFULLY ILLUSTRATED BY DARLEY.
PHILADEL PHI A:
LIPPINCOTT, GRAMBO & CO.
1855.








3!emoirs
OF THE
LIFE AND FAMILY
OF THE LATE
REVEREND MR. LAURENCE STERNE,


WRITTEN BY HIMSELF.


ROGER STERNE* (grandson to Archbishop Sterne) Lieutenant in Handaside's
regiment, was married to Agnes Hebert,
widow of a Captain of good family. Her
family name was (I believe) Nuttle, though
upon recollection, that was the name of her
father-in-law, who was a noted sutler in
Flanders, in Queen Anne's wars, where my
father married his wife's daughter, (N. B.
he was in debt to him), which was on September 25, 1711, old style.-This Nuttle
had a son by my grandmother,-a fine person of a man, but a graceless whelp!-what
became of him I know not.-The family (if
any left) live now at Clonmel, in the south
of Ireland; at which town I was born, November 24, 1713, a few days after my mother arrived from Dunkirk.-My birth-day


* Mr.'Sterne was descended from a family of that
name in Suffolk, one of which settled in Nottinghamshire. The following genealogy is extracted from
Thoresby's Ducatus Leodinensis, p. 215.
SIMON STERNE, of Mansfield.
Dr. Richard Sterne,= Elizabeth. daughter
Archbishop nf York, of Mr. Dickinson,
ub. June 1683.   ob. 1670.
I 1         2'     13 
Richard Sterne, William S'erne, Simnn Sterne. Marv daughter &
of York and  of Mansfield.  of E'vlngron heiress f Roger
Kilviner'nn,            and Halifax. Jaques. of Elvig.Esq. 1700.               ob. 1703.  ton, near York.
Il      12       13         4       l5      16
Rtchard. ROGER. Jaquez LL..  Mary. ElizaLeth. Frances.
icar.          ob. 1759.
Richard.
LAURENCE STERNE.
The arms of the family, says Guillam, in his book of
t'eraldry, p. 77. are, Or, a chevron between threecrosses
ilory, sable. The crest, on a wreath of his colors, a
fsarling proper.
Trifling circumstances are worthy of notice, when
onnnected with distinguished characters. The arms
of Mr. Sterne's family are no otherwise important
than on account bf the crest having aftfrded a hint
for one of the finest stories in "The Sentimental
Joulrney."


was ominous to my poor father, who was,
the day of our arrival, with many other
brave officers, broke, and sent adrift into
the wide world, with a wife and two children;-the elder of which was Mary. She
was born at Lisle, in French Flanders, July
10, 1712, new style.-This child was the
most unfortunate:-She married one Weoe
mans, in Dublin,-who used her most un
mercifully;-spent his substance, became a
bankrupt, and left my poor sister to shift
for herself; which she was able to do but
for a few months, for she went to a friend's
house in the country, and died of a broken
heart.. She was a most beautiful woman,of a fine figure, and deserved a better fate.
-The regiment in which my father served
being broke, he left Ireland as soon as I was
able to be carried with the rest of his family,
and came to the family seat at Elvington,
near York, where his mother lived. She
was daughter to Sir Roger Jaques, and
an heiress. There we sojourned for about
ten months, when the regiment was established, and our household decamped with
bag and baggage for Dublin.-Within a
month of our arrival, my father left us, being
ordered to Exeter; where, in a sad winter,
my mother and her two children followed
him, travelling from Liverpool, by land, to
Plymouth.-(Melancholy description of this
journey, not necessary to be transmitted
here.)-In twelve months we were all sent
back to Dublin.-My mother. with three of
us (for she lay-in at Plymoutlh of a boy,
Joram) took ship at Bristol, for Ireland, and
had a narrow escape from being cast away.
by a leak springing up in the vessel.-At
length after many perils and struggles we
got to Dublin. There my father took a large
house, furnished it, and in a year and a-half'




iv


MEMOIRS OF TIlE LIFE


time spent a great deal of money.-In the
year one thousand seven hundred and nineteen, all unhinged again; the regiment was
ordered, with many others, to the Isle of
Wight, in order to embark for Spain in
the Vigo expedition. We accompanied the
regiment, and were driven into MilfordHaven, but landed at Bristol; from thence,
by land, to Plymouth again, and to the Isle
of Wight;-where, I remember, we staid
encamped some time before the embarkation
of the troops-(in this expedition, from
Bristol to Hampshire, we lost poor Joram,
-a pretty boy, four years old, of the smallpox) my mother, sister, and myself, remained at the Isle of Wight during the Vigo
expedition, and until the regiment had got
back to Wicklow, in Ireland; from whence
my father sent for us.-We had poor Joram's
loss suppied, during our stay in the Isle of
Wight, by the birth of a girl, Anne, born
September the twenty-third, one thousand
seven hundred and nineteen.-This pretty
blossom fell at the age of three years, in the
barracks of Dublin:-She was, as I well
remember, of a fine delicate frame, not
made to last long,-as were most of my
father's babes.-We embarked for Dublin,
and had all been cast away by a most violent storm; but through the intercessions
of my mother, the captain was prevailed
upon to turn back into Wales, where we
staid a month, and at length got into Dublin, and travelled by land to Wicklow;
where my father had for some weeks given
us over for lost.-We lived in the barracks
at Wicklow, one year-(one thousand seven
hundred and twenty) when Devijeher (so
called after Colonel Devijeher) was born;
from thence we decamped to stay half a
year with Mr. Fetherston, a clergyman,
about seven miles from Wicklow; who being a relation of my mother's, invited us to
his parsonage at Animo.-It was in this
parish, during our stay, that I had that wonderful escape in falling through a mill-race
whilst the mill was going, and of being
taken up unhurt: the story is incredible,
but known for truth in al' that part of Ireland. where hundreds of tne common people
docked to see me. From hence we followed
the regiment to Dublin, where we lay in
he barracks a year. In this year (one thousana seven hundred and twenty-one) I learnt


to write, &c.-The regiment ordered in
twenty-two to Carrickfergus, in the north
of.A...    We all decamped; but got no
further than Drogheda;-thence ordered
to Mullengar, forty miles west, where, by
Providence, we stumbled upon a kind relation, a collateral descendant fiom Archbishop Sterne, who took us all to his castle, and kindly entertained us for a year,
and sent us to the regiment at Carrick
fergus, loaded with kindnesses, &c. A
most rueful and tedious journey had we
all (in March) to Carrickfergus, where we
arrived in six or seven days.-Little Devijeher here died; he was three years old: he
had been left behind at nurse at a farmhouse near Wicklow, but was fetch'd 0o us
by my father the summer after:-another
child sent to fill his place, Susan. This
babe too left us behind in this weary journey. The autumn of that year, or the
spring afterwards (I forget which) my father got leave of his colonel to fix me at
school,-which he did near Halifax, with
an able master; with whom I staid some
time, till by God's care of me, my cousin
Sterne, of Elvington, became a father to me,
and sent me to the university, &c. &c.-To
pursue the thread of our story, my father's
regiment was the year after ordered to Londonderry, where another sister was brought
forth, Catherine, still living; but most unhappily estranged from me by my uncle's
wickedness and her own folly. From this
station the regiment was sent to defend
Gibraltar, at the siege, where my father
was run through the body by Captain Phillips, in a duel (the quarrel began about a
goose!) with much difficulty, he survived,
though with an impaired constitution, which
was not able to withstand the hardships it
was put to; for he was sent to Jamaica,
where he soon fell by the country fever,
which took away his senses first, and made
a child of him; and then, in a month or two,
walking about continually without complaining, till the moment he sat down in
an arm-chair, and breathed his last, which
was at Port Antonio, on the north of the
island. My father was a little smart man,
active to the last degree in all exercises.
most patient of fatigue and disappointments,
of which it pleased God to give him full
measure. He was, in his temper, some




OF THE REV. MR. STERNE.


V


what rapid and hasty, but of a kindly sweet
disposition, void of all design; and so innocent in his own intentions, that he suspected
no one; so that you might have cheated
him ten times in a day, if nine had not been
sufficient for your purpose. My poor father
died in March 1731. I remained at Halifax
till about the latter end of that year, and
cannot omit mentioning this anecdote of
myself and schoolmaster.-He had the ceiling of the room new white-washed; the
ladder remained there: I one unlucky day
mounted it, and wrote with a brush in large
capital letters, LAU. STERNE, for which
the usher severely whipped me. My master was very much hurt at this, and said before me, that never should that name be
effaced, for I was a boy of genius, and he
was sure I should come to preferment.This expression made me forget the stripes
I had received.-In the year thirty-two*
my cousin sent me to the university, where
I staid some time.'Twas there that I commenced a friendship with Mr. H-, which
has been lasting on both sides.-I then
came to York, and my uncle got me the
living of Sutton: and at York, I became acquainted with your mother, and courted her
for two years:-she owned she liked me;
but thought herself not rich enough, or me
too poor, to be joined together.-She went
to her sister's in S-; and I wrote to her
often.-I believe then she was partly determined to have me, but would not say so.At her return she fell into a consumption;and one evening that I was sitting by her,
with an almost broken heart to see her so
ill, she said, " My dear Laurey, " I never
"can be yvoin  f.r I verily believe I have
"not long to live! but I have left you every
"shilling of my fortune."  Upon that she
showed me her will.-This generosity overpowered me.-It pleased God that she recovered, and I married her in the year 1741.
My unclet and myself were then upon very
* He was admitted of Jesus' College, in the university of Cambridge, 6th July 1733, under the tuition of
Mlr. Cannon.
Matriculated 29th March 1735.
Admitted to the degree of B. A. in January 1736.
Admitted M. A. at the commencement of 1740.
t Jaques Sterne, LL. D. HIe was Prebendary of
Durham, Canon Residentiary, Precentor and Prebendary of York, Rector of Rise, and Rector of Hornsea'uirn Riston both in the East Riding of the county of
York. He died June 9th, 1759.


good terms; for he soon got me the Prebend
of York; but he quarrelled with me afterwards because I would not write paragraphs
in the newspapers:-though he was a party-man, I was not, and detested such dirty
work: thinking it beneath me.    From that
period he became my bitterest enemy.*By my wife's means I got the living of
Stillington: a friend of hers in the south
had promised her, that if she married a
clergyman in Yorkshire,-when the livibg
became vacant, he would make her a coinpliment of it.   I remained near twenty
years at Sutton, doing duty at both places,
I had then very good health. Books,t painting, fiddling, and shooting, were my amusements. As to the Squire of the parish, I
cannot say we were upon a very friendly
footing: but at Stillington, the family of the
C-s showed us every kindness:'twas most
truly agreeable to be within a mile and a
half of an amiable family, who were ever
cordial friends.-In the year 1760 I took a
house at York for your mother and yourself,
and went up to London to publish t my two
first volumes of Shandy.M In that year
Lord Falconbridge presented me with the
curacy of Coxwold; a sweet retirement in
comparison of Sutton. In sixty-two I went
* It hath, however, been insinuated, that he for
some time wrote a periodical electioneering paper at
York, in defence of the Whig interest.-3Monthly Review, vol. 53, p. 344.
t A specimen of Mr. Sterne's abilities in the art of
designing, may be seen in Mr. Wodhul's poems, 8vo.
1772.
TIhe first edition was printed in the preceding year
at York.
~ The following is the order in which Mr. Sterne's
publications appeared:
1747. The Case of Elijah and the Widow of Zere
phath considered, a Charity Sermon preached on
Good-Friday, April 17, 1747, for the support of two
charity-schools in York.
1750. The Abuses of Conscience. Set forth in a Sermon preached in the cathedral church of St. Peter,
York, at the summer assizes, before the Hon. Mr. Baron
Clive, and the Hon. Mr. Baron Smith; on Sunday,
July 29, 1750.
1759. Vol. 1 and 2 of Tristram Shandy.
1760. Vol. 1 and 2 of Sermons.
1761. Vol. 3 and 4 of Tristram Shandy.
1762. Vol. 5 and 6 of Tristran Shandy.
1765. Vol. 7 and 8 of Tristram Shandy.
1766. Vol. 3, 4, 5, and 6 of Sermons.
1767. Vol. 9 of Tristram Shandy.
1768. The Sentimental Journey.
The remainder of his works were published afer hli
death.




IVI


MEMOIRS OF THE LIFE, &c.


to France before the peace was concluded;
and you both followed me. I left you both
in France, and in t\wo years after, I went
to Italy for the recovery of my health; and,
when I called upon you, I tried to engage
your mother to return to England with me:*
she and yourself are at length come, and I
have had the inexpressible joy of seeing my
girl every thing I wished her.
I have set down these particulars relating to my family and self for my Lydia,
in case hereafter she might have a curiosity, or a kinder motive to know them.
As Mr. Sterne, in the foregoing narrative, hath brought down the account of himself until within a few months of his death,
it remains only to mention that he left York
about the'end of the year 1767, and came
to London, in order to publish The Sentimental Journey, which he had written during the preceding summer at his favourite
living of Coxwold. His health had been
for some time declining; but he continued
to visit his friends, and retained his usual
flow of spirits. In February, 176S, he began
to perceive the approaches of death; and
with the concern of a good'man, and the
solicitude of an affectionate parent, devoted
his attention to the future welfare-of his
daughter. His letters, at this period, reflect
so much credit on his character, that it is to
be' lamented some others in the collection


were permitted to see the light. After a
short struggle with his disorder, his debilitated and worn-out frame submitted to fate
on the eighteenth day of March, 1768, at
his lodgings in Bond-street. He was buried
at the new burying-ground belonging to the
parish of St. George, Hanover-square, on
the 22d of the same month,' in the most private manner; and hath since been indebted
to strangers for a monument very unworthy
of his memory, on which the following lines
are inscribed:"Near to this Place
Lies the Body of
The Reverend LAURENCE STERNE, A. M
Died September 13th, 1768,*
Aged 53 Years.
Ah! molliter ossa quiescant
If a sound Head, warm Heart, and Breast hu
mane,
Unsullied Worth, and Soul without a Stain;
If Mental Pow'rs could ever justly claim
The well-won Tribute of immortal Fame,
Sterne was the man, who, with gigantic Stride,
Mow'd down luxuriant Follies far and wide.
Yet what tho' keenest Knowledge of Mankind
Unseal'd to him the springs that move the Mind
What did it cost him?-Ridicul'd, abus'd,
By Fools insulted, and bv Prudes accus'd!
In his, mild Reader, view thy future fate;
Like him despise what'twere a Sin to hate.
This monumental Stone was erected by two
brother masons; for though he did not live to be a
member of their society, yet, as his all-incomparable performances evidently prove him to have
acted by rule and square, they rejoice in this opportunity of perpetuating his high and irreproach
able character to after-ages.   W. & S.'


* From this passage it appears that the present ac.
count of Mr. Sterne's Life and Family was written
about six months only before his death.


* It is scarcely necessary to observe, that this date
is erroneous.




THE


LIFE AND OPINIONS
OF


GENTLEMAN.


CHAP. I.
I WISH either my father or my mother,
or indeed both of them, as they were in
duty both equally bound to it, had minded
what they were about when they begot me:.
had they duly considered how much depended upon what they were then doing;that not only the production of a rational
being was concerned in it, but that' possibly
the happy formation and temperature of his
body, perhaps his genius, and the very cast
of his mind; and, for aught they knew to
the contrary, even the fortunes of his whole
house, might take their turn from the humors and dispositions which were then
uppermost;-had they duly weighed and
considered all this, and proceeded accordingly,-I am verily persuaded I should have
made a quite different figure in the world
from that in which the reader is likely to
see me.-Believe me, good folks, this is not
so inconsiderable a thing as many of you
may think it;-you have all, I dare say,
heard of the animal spirits, as how they are
transfused- from father to son, &c. &c.and a great deal to that purpose:-well,
you may take my word, that nine parts in
ten of a man's sense, or his nonsense, his
successes and miscarriages in this world,
depend upon their motions and activity, and
the different tracks and trains you put them
into; so thatwhen they are once set a-going,,whether right or wrong,'tis not a halfpenny
matter, —away they go cluttering like heygo mad; and by treading the same steps
over and over again, they presently make
a road of it, as plain and as smooth as a
garden-walk, which when they are once
used to, the devil himself sometimes shall
not be able to drive them off it.
Pray, my dear, quoth my mother, have
you not forgot to wind up the clock?

Good G-d! cried my father, making axt
exclamation, but taking care to moderate
his voice at the same time, —Did ever
woman, since the creation of the worid,
interrupt a man with such a silly question.
Pray, what was your-father saying --
Nothing.
CHAP. II.
-  Then, positively, there is nothing
in the question that I can see, either good
or bad. -Then, let me tell you, Sir, it
was a very unseasonable question at least,because it scattered and dispersed the animal spirits, whose business it was to have
escorted, and gone hand in hand with the
Homunculus, and conducted him safe to
the place destined for his reception.
The Homunculus, Sir, in however low
and ludicrous a.light he may appear, in this
age of levity, to the eye of folly or prejudice;-to the- eye of reason in scientific
research, he stands confessed-a being
guarded and circumscribed with rights.The minutest philosophers, who, by the
bye, have the most enlarged understandings
(their souls being inversely as their inquiries)' show us incontestably that the
Homunculus is created by.the same hand,engendered in the same course of nature,endowed with the aime locomotive poWers
and faculties witfi us:-that he consists, as
we do, of skin, hair, fat, flesh, veins, arteries, ligaments, nerves, cartilages, bones,
marrow, brains, glands, genitals, humors,
and articulations;-is a being of as much
activity,-and, in all, senses of the word, as
much and as truly our fellow-creature as
my Lord Chancellor of England. —He may
be benefited,-he may be injured, lie may
obtain redress; in a word, he has all t.h.




8


LIFE AND OPINIONS


claims and rights of humanity which Tully,'uffiendorf, or the best ethic writers, allow
to arise out of that Utate and relation.
Now, dear Sir, what if any accident had
befallen him in his way alone!-or that,
through terror of it, natural to so young a
traveller, my little gentleman had got to
his journey's end miserably spent;-his
muscular strength and virility worn down
to a thread;-his own animal spirits ruffled
)eyond description,-and'that in this sad
disordered state of nerves, he had lain down
a prey to sudden starts, or. a series of melancholy dreams and fancies, for nine long,
long months together,-I tremble to think
what a foundation had been laid for a thousand' weaknesses both of body and mind,
which no skill of the physician or the philosopher could ever afterwards have set
thoroughly to rights.
CHAP. III.
To my uncle, Mr. Toby Shandy, do I
stand indebted for the preceding anecdote,
to whom my father, who was an excellent
natural philosopher, and much given to close
reasoning upon the smallest matters, had oft
and heavily complained of the injury; but
once more particularly, as my uncle Toby
well remembered, upon his observing a
most unaccountable obliquity (as he called
it) in my manner of setting up my top; and
justifying the principles upon which I had
done it,-the old gentleman shook his head,
and in a tone more expressive by half of
sorrow than reproach, he said his heart all
along foreboded, and he saw it verified in
this, and from a thousand other observations
he had made upon me, that I should neither
think nor act like any other man's child:
But alas! continued he, shaking his head
a second time, and wiping away a tear
which was trickling down his cheeks, My
Trtzsram's misfortunes began nine months
before ever he came into the world!
-My mother, who was sitting by, looked
up; but she knew no more than her backside what my father meant; —but my uncle,
Mr. Toby Shandy, who had been often infrmed of the affair.-understood him very
%'2s1..


CHAP. IV.
I KNOW there are readers in the world, as
well as many other good people in it, who
are no readers at all,-who find themselves
ill at ease, unless they are let into the
whole secret, from first to last, of every
thing which concerns you.
It is in pure compliance with this humor
of theirs, and from a backwardness in my
nature to disappoint any'one soul'living,
that I have been so very particular already.
As my life and opinions are likely to make
some noise in the world, and, if I conjecture
right, will take in all ranks, professions,
and denominations of men whatever,-be
no less read than the Pilgrim's Progress
itself,-arind, in the end, prove the very thing
which Montaigne dreaded his Essays should
turn out,' that is, a book for a parlor-window; —I find it necessary to consult every
one a little in his turn; and therefore must
beg pardon for going on a little farther in
the same way: for which cause right glad
I am that I have begun the history of myself in the way I have done; and that I am
able to go on, tracing every thing in it, as
Horace says, ab ovo.
Horace, I know, does not recommend this
fashion altogether: but that gentleman is
speaking'only of an epic poem, or a tragedy
-(I forgot which;)-besides, if it was not
so, I should beg Mr. Horace's pardon;-fol
in writing what I have set about, I shall
confine myself neither to his rules, nor to
any man's rules that ever lived.
To such, however, as do not choose to go
so far back into these things, I can give no
better advice than that they skip over the
remaining part of this chapter; for I declare beforehand,'tis wrote only for the
curious and inquisitive.
-- Shut the door. I- was begot
in the night betwixt the first Sunday and
the first Monday in the month of March, in
the year of our Lord one thousand seven
hundred and eighteen. I am positive I was.
-But how I came to be so very particular
in my account of a thing which happened
before I was born, is owing to another small
anecdote known only in our own family;
but now made public for the better clearing
up of this point.
My father, you must know, who was




OF TRISTRAM SHANDY.                              9
originally a Turkey merchant, but had left most to a certainty. However, what fol
off business for some years, in order to re- lows in the beginning of the next chapter
tire to and die upon his paternal estate in puts it beyond all possibility of doubt.
the county of —, was, I believe, one of  --  But pray, Sir, what was your
the most regular men in every thin  e father doing he  all December, January, and
did, whether it was matter of business or February  -Why, Madam,-he was all
matter of amusement, that ever lived. As that time afflicted with a Sciatica.
a small specimen of this extreme exactness
of his, to which he was in truth a slave, he
had made it a rule tor many years of his
life,-on the first Sunday night of every           CHAP. V.
month throughout the whole year, as certain as ever the -Sunday night came,-to  ON the fifth day of November, 1718,
wind up a large house-clock, which we had which, to the era fixed on, was as near nine
standing on the back-stairs head, with his calendar months as any husband could in
own hands: and being somewhere between reason have expected;-was I, Tristram
fifty and sixty years of age at the time I Shandy, gentleman, brought forth into this
have been speaking of, he had likewise scurvy and disastrous world of ours. — I
gradually brought some other little family wish I had been born in the moon, or in any
concerns to the same period, in order, as he of the planets, (except Jupiter or Saturn,
would often say to my uncle Toby, to get because I never could bear cold weather,)
them all out of the way at one time, and be for it could not well have fared worse with
no more plagued and pestered with them me in any of them (though I will not anthe rest of the month.                swer for Venus) than it has in this vile,
It was attended but with one misfortune, dirty planet of ours,-which, o' my conwhich, in a great measure, fell upon myself, science, with reverence be it spoken, I take
and the effects of which, I fear, I shall carry to be made up of the shreds and clippings
with me to my grave; namely, that from of the rest;-.not but the planet is well
an unhappy association of ideas, which have enough, provided a man could be born in it
no connexion in nature, it so fell out at to a great title, or to a great estate; or
length, that my poor mother could never could any how contrive to be called up to
hear the said clock wound up, but the public charges and employments of dignity
thoughts of some other things unavoidably or power;-  but that is not my case;popped into her head-et vice versa:-  and'therefore every man will speak of the
which strange combination of ideas, the fair as his own market has gone in it; —
sagacious Locke, who certainly understood for which cause, I affirm it over again to be
the nature of these things-better than most one of the vilest worlds that ever was
men, affirms to have produced more wry made;-for I can xruly say, that from the
actions than all other sources of prejudice first hour I drew my breath in it, to this,
whatsoever.                           that I can now scarce draw it at all, for an
But this by the bye                 asthma I got in skating against the wind in
Now it appears ly a memorandum in my Flanders,-I have been the continual sport
lather's pocket-book, which now lies upon of what the world calls Fortune; and though
the table, " That on Lady.day, which was I will not wrong her by saying, She has
on the 25th of the same month in which I evermade me feel the weight of any great
date my geniture, —my father set out or signal evil; — yet, with;all the good
upon his journey to London, with my eldest temper in the world, I affirm it of her, that
brother Bobby, to fix him at Westminster in every stage of my life, and at every turn
school;" and, as it appears from the same and corner where she could get fairly at
authority, "That he did not gopt down to me, the ungracious duchess has pelted me
his wife and family till the second week in with a set of as pitiful misadventures and
May, following,"-it brings the thing al- cross-accidentsasever small Ierosustained
B




i0


IIFE AND OPINIONS


CHAP. VI.
IN the beginning of the last chapter, I
informed you exactly when I was born; but
I did not inform you how. No; that particular was reserved entirely for a chapter
by itself;-besides, Sir, as you and I are in
a manner perfect strangers to each other, it
would not have been proper to have.let you
into too many circumstances relating to myself all at once.-You must have a little
patience. I have undertaken, you see, to
write not only my life, but my opinions
also; hoping and expecting that your knowledge of my character, and of what kind of
a mortal I am, by the one, would give you a
better relish for the other. As you proceed
farther with me, the slight acquaintance,
which is now beginning betwixt us, will
grow into familiarity; and that, unless one
of us is in fault, will terminate in friendship.-O diem pre-clarum!-then nothing
which has touched me will be thought trifling in its nature, or tedious in its telling.
Therefore, my dear friend and companion,
if you should think me somewhat sparing
of my narrative on my first setting outbear with me-and let me go on and tell
my story my own way:-or, if I should
seem now and then to trifle upon the road,or should sometimes put -on a fool's cap,
with a bell to it, for a moment or two as we
pass along,-don't fly off-but rather courteously give me credit for a little more wisdom than appears upon my outside;-and,
as we jog on, either laugh with me, or at
me, or, in short, do any thing,-only keep
your temper.
CHAP. VII.
IN the same village where my father and
my mother dwelt, dwelt also a thin, upright,
mnotlierly, notable, good old body of a midwife, who, with the help of a little plain
good sense, and some years' full employment in her business, in which she had all
along trusted little to her own efforts, and
a great deal to those of dame Nature,-had
acquired, in her way, no small degree of
reputation in the world:-by which word
world, need I in this place inform your wor

ship that I would be understood to, mean no
more of it than a small circle described
upon the circle of the great world, of four
English miles diameter, or thereabouts, of
which the cottage where the good old woman lived is supposed to be the centre'?She had been left, it seems, a widow in
great distress, with three or four small children, in her forty-seventh year; and as she
was at that time a person of decent carriage,-grave deportment,-a woman moreover of few, words, and withal an object of
compassion, whose distress, and silence under it, called out the-louder for a friendly
lift,-the wife of the parson of the parish
was touched with pity; and having often
lamented an inconvenience to which her
husband's flock had for many years been
exposed, inasmuch as there was no such
thing as a midwife, of any kind or degree,
to be got at, let the case have&been ever so
urgent, within less than six or seven long
miles' riding; which said seven long miles
in dark nights and dismal roads, the country thereabouts being nothing but a deep
clay, was almost equal to fourteen; and that
in effect was sometimes next to having no
midwife at all, it came into her head that
it would be doing as seasonable a kindness
to the whole parish as to the poor creature
herself, to get her a little instructed in
some of the plain principles of the business,
in order to set her up in it. As no woman
thereabouts was better qualified to execute
the plan she had formed than herself, the
gentlewoman very charitably undertook it;
and having great influence over the female
part of the parish, she found no difficulty in
effecting it to the utmost of her wishes. In
truth, the parson joined his interest with
his wife's in the whole affair; and, in order
to do things as they should be, and give the
poor soul as good a title by law to, practise,
as his wife had given by institution,-he
cheerfully paid the fees for the ordinary's
license himself, amounting in the whole to
the sum  of eighteen shillings and fourpence; so that, betwixt them both, the good
woman was fully inve'ted in the real and
corporal possession. of her office, together
with all its rights, members. and appur
tenances whatsoever.
These last words, you must know, were
not according to the old form in whick such




OF TRISTRAM SHANDY.


11


licenses, faculties and powers usually ran,
which, in like cases, had heretofore been
granted to the sisterhood; but it was according to a neat formula of Didius his own
devising, who having a particular turn for
taking to pieces and new-framing over again
all kinds of instruments in that way, not
only hit upon this dainty amendment, but
coaxedmany of the old'licensed matrons in
the neighborhood to open their faculties
afresh, in order to have this whimwham of
his inserted.
I own I never could envy Didius in these
kinds of fancies of his:-but every'man to
his own taste.-Did not Dr. Kunastrokius,
that great man, at his leisure hours, take
the greatest delight imaginable in combing
of asses' tails, and plucking the dead hairs
out with his teeth, though he haid tweezers
always in his pocket Nay, if you come to
that, Sir, have not the wisest of men in all
ages, not excepting Solomon himself,-have
they not had their HoBBY-HORSES,-their
running horses,-their coins and their
cockle-shells, their drums and their trumpets, their fiddles, their pallets, their maggots, and their butterflies?-and so long as
a man rides his HOBBY-HORSE peaceably
and quietly along the King's highway, and
neither compels you nor me to get up behind
him,-pray, Sir, what have either you or I
to do with it 
CHAP. VIII.
-De gustibus non est disputandum;that is, there is no disputing against HOBBYHORSES; and for my part I seldom do; nor
could I with any sort of grace, had I been
an enemy to them at the bottom; for happening, at certain intervals and changes of
the moon, to be both fiddler and painter,
according as the fly stings,-be it known
to you, that I keep a couple of pads myself,
upon vwhich, in their turns, (nor do I care
who knows it,) I frequently ride out and
take the air; though sometimes, to my
shame be it spoken, I take somewhat longer
journeys than what a wise man would think
altogether right.-But the truth is,-I am
not a wise man;-and besides, am a mortal
of so little consequence in the world, it is


not much matter what I do: so 1 seldom
fret or fume at all about it: nor does it much
disturb my rest, when I see such great lords
and tall personages as hereafter follow;such, for instance, as my lord A, B, C, D,
E, F, G, H, I, K, L, M, N, 0, P, Q, and so
on, all of a row, mounted upon their several
horses;-some with large stirrups, getting
on with a more grave and sober pace; —
others, on the contrary, tucked up to their
very chins, with whips across their mouths,
scouring and scampering-away like so many
little party-colored' devils astride a mortgage,-and as if some of them were resolved to break their necks.-So much the
better,-say I to myself;-for, in case the
worst should happen, the world will make
a shift to do excellently well with6ut them;
and for the rest,-why,-'God speed them,
-e'en let them'ride on without opposition
from me; for, were their lordships unhorsed
this very night-'tis ten to one but that
many of them would be worse mounted by
one half before to-morrow morning.
Not one of these instances therefore can
be said to break in' upon my rest.-But
there is an instance, which I own puts me
off my guard, and that is, when I see one
born for great actions, and, what is still
more for his honor, whose nature ever inclines him to good ones; -when I. behold
such a one, my Lord, like yourself, whose
principles and conduct are as generous and
noble as his blood, and whom, for that reason,
a corrupt world cannot spare one moment;
-when I see such a one, my Lord, mounted,
though it is but for a minute beyond the
time which my love to my country has prescribed to him, and my zeal for his glory
wishes,-then, my Lord, I cease to be a philosopher, and in the first transport of an
honest impatience, I'wish the HOBBY-HORSE,
with all its fraternity, at the Devil.
" My Lord,
"I MAINTAIN this to be a dedication,
"notwithstanding its singularity in the
"three great essentials of matter, form, and
" place: I beg, therefore, you will accept it
"as such, and that you will permit me to
"lay it, with the most respectful humility.
"at your Lordship's feet,-when you are
"upon them,-which you can be when you
"please;-and that is, my Lord, whenever




12.


LIFE; AND,) OPININONS


" there is occasion for it; and I will a~dd, to i
" the best purposes too.' I have the honor to be,
"My Lord,
"Your Lordship's most obedient,
"and most devoted,
i' and most humble servant,
"TRISTRAM SHANDY."
CHAP. IX.
I SOLEMNLY declare to all mankind, that
the above dedication was made for no one
Prince, Prelate, Pope, or Potentate,-Duke,
Marquis, Earl, Viscount, or Baron, of this,
or any other realm in Christendom;-nor
has it yet -been hawked about, or.offered
publicly or privately, directly or indirectly,
to any one person or personage, great or
small, but is honestly a true virgin-Dedication untried on, upon any soul living.
I labor this point so particularly, merely
to remove any offence or objection which
might arise against it from the manner in
which I propose to make the most of it;which is the putting it up fairly to public
sale; which I now do.
-Every author has a way of his own in
biringing his points to bear;-for my own
part, as I hate chaffering and higgling for
a few guineas in a dark entry, I resolved
within myself, from the very beginning, to
deal squarely and openly with your Great
Folks in this affair, and try whether I should
not come off the better by it.
If therefore there is any one Duke, Marquis, Earl, Viscount, or Baron, in these His
Majesty's dominions, who stands in need'
of a tight, genteel dedication, ana whom
the above will suit, (for, byathe bye, unless
it suits in some degree, I will not part
with it,)-it is much at his service for fifty
guineas; which I am positive is twenty
guineas less than it ought to be afforded
for, by any man of genius.
My Lord, if you examine it over again,
it is far from being a gross piece of-daubing,
as some dedications'are. The design, your
Lordship sees, is good, the coloring transparent, —the drawing not amiss;-or, to
speal, more like a man of science, and::easure my piece in the painter's scale,


divided into 20,-1 oelieve, my Lord, the
outlines will turn-out a's 1,2,-the composition as 9,-the coloring as. 7, — the expression 13 and a half, - and- the design, if Imay be allowed, my Lord, to understand my
own design, and supposing absolute perfection in designing, to be as 20,--I think it
cannot well fall short of 19. Besides all
this,-there is keeping in it; -and the dark,
strokes in the HOBBY-HoRsE- (which -is a
secondaryfigure, and a kind of back-ground
to the whole,) give —greatforce to the'principal lights in your, own fi      m ke, gure, and
it c olme off wonderfully;-and besides, there
is an air of originality in the tout ensemble.
Be pleased, my good Lord to order the
sum to be paid into'the hands of Mr. Dods-.ley, -for the be'nefit of the author and in
the, next edition care shall be taken that.this chapter be ecp ng. a
u ed,, nd your Lordship's titles, distinctions, arms. and good actions', be placed at the front "of the- precedilng chapter: all wbi4 from the words De
gustibus no7i est disputandum, and wha'tever else in this book relates to HoBBYHoRsFs, but, no more shall stand dedicated
to your Lord ship.-The rest I dedicate to
tbe.MOON, who, by the bye, of all the N.t.rons or Matrons I can think of, has most
power to set my book. a- oing, and make
the world run, 1 mad after' it;
Bright Goddess,
If thou urt not too busy witbCANDIDand
Miss, CUIEGUND Is affirs -take' Tristram
Shandy's under thy protection also.
CHAP. X.
WHATEVER degree of small merit the
act of beni' nity in'favor of: the midwife.   I  -  9
might justly claim,'or in whom, that. clause
truly rested,-at first sight-seems not very
material to this history,;,, certain', however,
it was, that the gentlewoman.! the parson's
wife, did run aw6yat -that time!with the
whole of it: and yet, for. my life, I cannot
hel p thinking but that the parson himself,
though he'had not the good foritune to bit
upon the design first,-yet as be heartily
cIoncurred'in it the moment it was laid hefore: him, and as b e-artily parted with his
money to carry it, into execution, had a claim


divided into 20,-I oelieve, my Lord, the
outlines will turn out as 12,-the composition as 9,-the coloring as. 7, —.the expression 13 and a half,- and the design, if I
may be allowed, my Lord, to understand my
own design, and supposing absolute perfection in designing, to be as 20,-I think it
cannot well fall short of 19. Besides all
this, —there is keeping in it; and the dark,
strokes in the HOBBY-HoRsE- (which is a
secondary.figure, and a kind of back-ground
to the whole,) give great force to the principal lights in your own figure, and make
it come off wonderfully; —and besides, there
is an air of originality in the tout ensemble.
Be pleased, my good Lord, to order the
sum to be paid into'the hands of Mr. Dodsley, for the benefit of the author; and in
the. next edition -care shall be taken that
this chapter be expunged, and your Lordship's titles, distinctions, arms, and good actions, be placed at the front "of the preceding chapter: all which, from the words De
gustibus non est disputandum, and whatever else in this book relates to HoBBYHoRSEs, but no more, shall stand dedicated
to your Lordship.-The rest I dedicate to
the MooN, who, by the bye, of all the Patrons or Matrons I can think of, has most
power to set my book a-going, and make
the world run mad after it.
Bright Goddess,
If thou art not too busy with CANDID and
Miss CUNEGUND'S affairs,-take Tristram
Shandy's under thy protection also.
CHAP. X.
WHATEVER degree of small merit the
act of benignity in favor of the midwife
might justly claim, or in whom that. claim
truly rested,-at first sight seems not very
material to this history;: certain, however,
it was, that the gentlewoman, the parson's
wife, did run away'at that time'with the
whole of it: and yet, for my life, I cannot
help thinking but that the parson himself,
though he had not the good fortune to hit
upon the design first,-yet, as he heartily
concurred in it the moment it was laid before: him, and as heartily parted with his
money to carry it into execution, had a claim




OF TRISTRAM SHANDY.
to some share of it,-if not a full half of on the seat w
whatever honor was due to it.         with a double
The world at that time was pleased to and a noble pi
determine the matter otherwise.       with a housing
Lay down the book, and I will allow you superfine cloth
half a day to give a probable guess at the lace, terminatir
grounds of this procedure.            poudre d'or:Be it known then, that, for about five in the pride an
years before the date of the midwife's li- with a grand e
cense, of which you have had so circum- at all points a
stantial an account,-the parson we have caring to bante
to do with, had made himself a country-talk these up behin<
by a breach of all decorum, which he had ofthem, had se
committed against himself, his station, and such a bridle ai
his office:-and that was in never appearing and value of si
better, or otherwise mounted, than upon a truly deserve;
lean, sorry, jack-ass of a horse, value about  In the severs
one pound fifteen shillings; who, to shorten in the neighbo]
all description of him, was full brother to lived around hi
Rosinante, as far as similitude congenial hend, that the
could make him; for he answered his de- both hear and
scription to a hairbreadth in every thing,- losophy from r
except that I do not remember'tis anywhere he never could
said that Rosinante was brokenwinded; and the attention <
that, moreover, Rosinante, as it is the hap- Labor stood st
piness of most Spanish horses, fat or lean, hung suspend(
-was undoubtedly a horse at all points.  — the spinnin]
I know very well that the Hero's horse even chuck-fa:
was a horse of chaste deportment, which selves stood g
may have given grounds for the contrary sight; and as l
opinion: but it is as certain, at the same quickest, he ]
time, that Rosinante's continency (as may be upon his hands
demor-trated from the adventure of the to hear the gr(
Yanguesian carriers) prpceeded from no laughter of the
bodily defect or cause whatsoever, but from bore with exce
the temperance and orderly current of his acter was,-h(
blood.- And let me tell you, Madam, there and as he saw
is a great deal of very good chastity in the ridicule, he wo
world, in behalf of which you could not say with others for
more for your life.                   he so strongly
Let that be as it may, as my purpose is friends, who k
to do exact justice to every creature brought love of mone]
upon the stage of this dramatic work,-I the less scrup
could not stifle this distinction in favor of gance of his h
Don Quixote's horse;-in all other points, true cause,-1
the parson's horse, I say, was just such an- laugh against
other: for he was as lean, and as lank, and carried one si
as sorry a jade, as Humility herself could own bones, b
have bestrided.                       figure as his
In the estimation of here and there a man insist upon it,
of weak judgment, it was greatly in the the rider dese
parson's power to have helped the figure of taur-like, both
this horse of his,-for he was master of a and in other i
very handsome demi-peak'd saddle, quilted above the temp


13
ith green plush, garnished
row of silver-headed studs,
air of shining brass stirrups,
altogether suitable, of grey
i, with'an edging of black
ig in adeep, black, silk fringe,
-all which he had purchased
id prime of his life, together
embossed bridle, ornamented
s it should be.   But not,r his beast, he had hung all
d his study-door; and, in lieu
riously befitted him with just
id such a saddle as the figure
ich a steed might well and
al sallies about his parish, and
ring visits to the gentry who
im,-you.will easily compreparson, so appointed, would
see enough to keep his phiusting. To speak the truth,
enter a village, but he caught
of both old and young.ill as he passed,-the bucket
ed in the middle of the well
g-wheel forgot its round,rthing and shuffle-cap them-'aping till he had got out of
his movement was not of the
had generally time enough
to make.his observations,oans of the serious, —and the
light-hearted: all which he
llent tranquillity.-His chars loved a jest' in his heart,himself in the true'point of
luld say he could not be angry
seeing him in a light in which
saw himself;-so that to his:new his',foible was not the
y, and who therefore made
dle in bantering the extravaumor,-instead of giving the
re chose rather to join in the
himself; and as he never
ngle ounce of flesh upon his,eing altogether as spar'a
beast,-he would sometimes
that the horse was as good ah:rved; —that they were, cen
of a piece. At other timeh,
noods, when his spirits were.
)tation offalse wit. —he would
2




14


LIFE AND OPINIONS


say, he found himself going off fast in a
consumption; and, with great gravity,
would pretend, he could not bear the sight
of a fat horse, without a dejection of heart,
and a sensible alteration in his pulse; and
that he had made choice of the lean one he
rode upon, not only to keep himself in countenance, but in spirits.
At different times he would give fifty
humorous and apposite reasons for riding
a meek-spirited jade of a brokenwinded
horse, preferably to one of mettle;-for on
such a one he could, sit mechanically, and
meditate as delightfully de vanitate mundi
et fugd seeculi, as with the advantage of a
death's-head before him;-that, in allother
exercitations, he could spend his time, as
he rode slowly along,-to as much account
as in his study;-that he could draw up an
argument in his sermon,-or a hole in his
Wreeches, as steadily on the one as in the
other;-that brisk trotting and slow argurmentation, like wit and judgment, were
two incompatible movements.-But that
upon his steed, he could unite and reconcile
every thing;-he could compose his sermon,-he could compose his cough,-and,
in case nature gave a call that way, he
could likewise compose himself to sleep.In short, the parson upon such encounters
would assign any cause but the true cause;and he withheld the true one, only out of a
nicety of temper, because he thought it did
lionour to him.
But the truth of the story was as follows:In the first years of this gentleman's life,
and about the time when the superb saddle
and bridle were purchased by him, it had
been his manner, or vanity, or call it what
you will,-to run into the opposite extreme.
-In the language of the countir where he
dwelt, he was said to have loved a good
horse, and generally had one of the best
in the whole parish standing in his stable
always ready for saddling; and as the nearest midwife, as I told you, did not live nearer
to the village than seven miles, and in a
tile country, it so fell out that the poor gentleman was scarce a whole week together
without some piteous application for his
beast' and as he was not-an unkind-hearted
man, and every case was more pressing and
more distressful than the last,-as much as
ae loved his beast, he had never a heart to re

fuse him; the upshot of which was generally this, that his horse was either clapped,
or spavined, or greazed; or he was twitterboned, or brokenwinded, or something, in
short, or other had befallen him, which
would let him carry no flesh;-so that he
had every nine or ten months a bad horse
to get rid of,-and a good horse to purchase
in his stead.
What the loss in such a balance might
amount to, communibus annis, I would
leave to a special jury of sufferers in the
same traffic, to determine;-but let it be
what it would, the honest. gentleman -bore
it for many years without a murmur, till at
length, by repeated ill accidents of the kind,
he found it necessary to take the thing
under consideration; and, upon weighing
the whole, and summing it up in his mind,
he found it not only disproportioned to his
other expenses, but withal so heavy an article in itself as to disable him from any other
act of generosity in his parish; besides this,
he considered that with half the sum thus
galloped away, he could do ten times as
much good;-and what still weighed more
with him than all other considerations put
together, was this, that it confined all his
charity into one particular channel, and
where, as he fancied, it was the least
wanted; namely, to the child-bearing and
child-getting part of his parish; reserving
nothing for the impotent,-nothing for the
aged,-nothing for the many comfortless
scenes he was hourly called forth to visit,
where poverty, and sickness, and affliction
dwelt together.
For these reasons he resolved to discontinue the expense; and there appeared but
two possible ways to extricate him clearly
out of it; and these were, either to make it
an irrevocable law never more to lend his
steed upon any application whatever, —or
else be content to ride the last poor devil,
such as they had made him, with all his
aches and infirmities, to the very end of
the chapter.
As he dreaded his own constancy in the
first,-he very cheerfully betook himself to
the second; and though he could very well
have explained it, as I said, to his honour,'yet, for that very reason, hle had a spirit
above it; choosing rather to bear the contempt of his enemies and tht laughter of




OF TRISTRAM SHANDY.


15




his friends, than undergo the pain of telling
a story which might seem a panegyric upon
himself.
I have the highest idea of the spiritual
and refined sentiments of this reverend
gentleman, from this single stroke in his
character, which I think comes up to any
of the honest refinements of the peerless
knight of La Mancha, whom, by the bye,
with all his follies, I-love more, and would
actually have gone farther to have paid a
visit to, than the greatest hero of antiquity.
But this is not the moral of my story: the
thing I had in view was to show the temper
of the world in the-whole of this affair.For you must know, that so long as this
explanation would have done the parson
credit,-the devil a soul could find itout:I suppose his enemies would not, and that
his friends could not.  -But no sooner
did he bestir himself in behalf of the midwife, and pay the expenses of the ordinary's
license to set her up,-but the whole.secret
came out; every horse he had lost, and two
horses more than ever he had lost, with all
the circumstances of their destruction, were
known and distinctly remembered,_-The
story ran like wildfire;-" The parson had
"a returning fit of pride which had just
"'seized him, and he was going to be well
"mounted once again in his life; and if it
"was so, *twas plain as the sun at noon-day,
"he would pocket the expense of the li" cense ten times told, the very first year:" so that every body was left to judge what
"were his views in this act of charity."
What were his views. in this, and in
every other action of his life,-or rather
what were the opinions which'floated in
the brains of other people concerning it,
was a thought which too much floated in
his own, and too often broke in upon his
rest, when.he should have been sound asleep.
About ten years ago, this gentleman had
the good fortune to be made entirely easy
upon that score,-it being just so long since
he left his parish,-and the whole world at
the sam, time, behind him;-and stands accountable to a Judge of whom he will have
no cause to complain.
But there is a fatality attends the actions
of some men: order them as they,will, they
pass through a certain medium, which so
twists and refracts them from their true


directions, that, with all the titles to praise
which a rectitude of heart can give, the
doers of them are nevertheless forced to
live and die without it.
Of the truth of which, this gentleman
was a painful example.,- But to know
by what means this came to pass,-and to
make that knowledge of use to you, I insist
upon it that you read the two following
chapters, which contain such a sketch of
his life and conversation, as will carry its
moral along with it.-When this is done,
if nothing stops us in our way, we shall go
on with the midwife.
CHAP. XI.
YORIK was this parson's name, and;
what is very remarkable in it (as appears
from a most ancient account of the family,
wrote upon strong vellum, and now in perfect preservation,) it had been exactly so
spelt for near, —-  I was within an ace of
saying nine hundred years;-but I would
not shake my credit in telling an improbable
truth, however indisputable in itself;-and
therefore I shall content myself with only
saying,     it, had been exactly so spelt,
without the least variation or transposition
of a single letter, for I do not know how
long; which is more than I would venture
to sayrofonie half of the best surnames in
the kingdom: which, in a course of years,
have generally undergone as many chops
and, changes as their owners.-Has this
been owing to the pride, or to the shame
of the respective proprietors? —In honest
truth, I think sometimes to the one, and
sometimes to the other, just as the tempta,
tion has;wrought. But a villanous affair it
is, and will one day so blend and confound
us all together, that no one shall be able to
stand up-and swear, " That his own great"grandfather was the man who did either
"this or that."
This evil had been sufficiently fenced
against by the prudent care of the Yorick
family;-and their religious preservation
of these records I quote, which do farther
inform us, That the family was originally
of Danish extraction, and had been transplanted into England as early as in the




16                        LIFE AND OPINIONS
reign of Horwendillus, king of Denmark, degree in this unsettled island, whera'Nln whose court, it seems, an ancestor of this ture, in her gifts and dispositions of. th;s
Mr. Yorick, and from whom he was lineally kind, is most whimsical and capricious
descended, held a considerable post to the Fortune herself not being more so in the
day of his death,  Of what nature this con-' bequest of her goods and chattels than she.
siderable post was, this record saith not;-.  This is all that ever staggered my faith
it only adds, That for near two centuries, in regard'to Yorick's extraction, who, by
it had been totally abolished, as altogether what I can remember of him, and by all
unnecessary not only in that court, but in the accounts I could ever get of him, seemed
every other court of the Christian world.  not to have had one single drop of Danish
It has often come into my head, that this blood in his whole crasis: in nine hundred
post could be no other than that f the king's years, it might possibly have all run out;
chief jester,-and that Hamlet's Yorick, - I will not philosophize one moment
in our Shakspeare, many of whose plays, with you about it: for happen how it would,
you know, are founded upon authenticated the fact was this:-That instead of that
facts, was certainly the very man.    cold phlegm and exact regularity of sense
I have not the time to look into Saxo- and humors you would have looked for in
Grammaticus's Danish History, to know one so extracted,-he was, on the contrary,
the certainty of this,-but if you have lei- as mercurial and.sublimated a composition,
sure and can easily get at the book, you -as heteroclite a creature in all his demay do it full as well yourself.      clensions, — with as much life and whim,
I had just time in my travels through and gaite de cceur about him, as the kindDenmark, with, Mr. Noddy's eldest son, liest climate could have engendered and
whom, in the year 1741, I accompanied as put together. With all this sail, poor Yorick
governor, riding along with him at a pro- carried not, one ounce. of ballast; he was
digious:rate through most parts of Europe, utterly unpractised in the world; and, at
and of which original journey performed the age of twenty-six, knew just about as
by us two, a most delectable narrative will well how to steer his course in it as a
oe given in the progress of this work;-I romping unsuspicious girl of thirteen; so
nad just time, I say, and that was all, to that upon his first setting out, the brisk
prove the truth of an observation made by gale of his spirits, as you will imagine, ran
a long sojourner in that country;     him foul ten times in a day of somebody's
namely, "That Nature was neither very tackling; and as the grave and more slow" lavish, nor was she very stingy in her paced were oftenest in his way,-you
" gifts of genius and capacity to its inhab- may likewise imagine,'twas with such he
"itants;-but, like a discreet parent, was, had generally the ill luck to get the most
"moderately kind to them all; observing entangled. For aught I know, there might'"such an equal tenor in the distribution of be some mixture of unlucky wit at the
"her'favors, as to bring them, in those bottom of such fracas:-for, to speak the
"points, pretty nearly to a level with each truth, Yorick had an invincible dislike and
"other; so that you will meet with few opposition in his nature to gravity;-not to
s" instances in that kingdom of refined parts; gravity as such;-for where gravity was
"but a great deal of good plain household wanted, he would be the most grave or
"understanding amongst all ranks of people, serious of mortal men for days and weeks
"of which every body has a share;" which together; but he was an enemy to the
is, I think, very right.              affectation of it, and declared open war
With us, you see, the- case is quite differ- against it, only as it appeared a cloak for
ent: —we are all ups and downs in this mat- ignorance, or for folly: and then, whenever
ter. —yrou are a. great genius;-or'tis fifty it fell in his way,'however sheltered and
to one, Sir, you are a great dunce and a protected, he seldom gave it much quarter.
blockhead;-not that there is a total want  Sometimes, in his wild way of talking,
of intermediate steps;-no, we are not so he would say, that Gravity was an errant
irregular as that comes to;-but the two scoundrel, and, he would add,-of the most
extremes are more common, and in a greater dangerous kind too,-because a sly one




OF TRISTRAM. SHANDY.


17


and that he verily believed, more-honest            CHAP XII.
well-meaning people were bubbled out of
their'goods and money by it in one twelve-  THE Mortgager and Mortgagee differ the
month, than by pocket-picking and shop- one from the other not more in length o.
lifting in seven. In the naked temper which purse, than the Jester and Jestee do in that
a merry heart discovered, he would say of. memory. But in this the comparison
there was no danger,-but to itself:- between them runs, as the'scholiaste call it,
whereas the very essence of gravity was upon all-fobr; which, by the bye, is upon
design, and consequently deceit;-'twas a one or two legs more than some of the best
taught trick, to gain credit of the world for of Homer's can pretend to;-namely, That
more sense and knowledge than a man was the one raises a sum, and the other a laugh
worth; and that, with all his pretensions,- at your expense, and thinks no more about
it was no better, but often worse, than what it. Interest, however, still runs on in both
-a. French wit had long ago defined it, viz. cases;-the periodical or accidental payA' mysterious carriage-of the body, to cover ments of'it, just serving to keep'the memthe defects of the mind:-which definition ory of the affair alive; till, at length, in
of' gravity, Yorick, with great imprudence, some evil hour,-pop comes the creditor
would say, deserved to be wrote in letters upon each, and by demanding principal upon
of gold.                              the spot, together with full interest to the
But, in plain truth, he was a man un- very day, makes them both feel the full
hackneyed and unpractised in the world; extent of their obligations.
and was altogether as indiscreet and foolish  As the reader (for I hate your ifs) has a
on every other subject of discourse wheire thorough knowledge of human nature,- I
policy is wont to impress restraint. Yorick need not say more to satisfy him, that my
had no impression but one, and that was Hero could not go on at this rate without
what arose from  the nature of the deed some slight experience \of these incidental
spoken of; which impression he'would mementoes.' To speak the truth, he had
usually translate into plain English, without wantonly involved himself in a multitude
any periphrasis;-and too'oft without much of small book-debts of this stamp, which,
distinction of either person, time, or place; notwithstanding Eugenius's frequent ad-so that when mention was made of a piti- vice, he too much disregarded; thinking,
ful or an ungenerous proceeding, — he that as not one of them was contracted
never gave himself a moment's time to re- through any malignancy;-but, on the conflect who was the hero of the piece, —  trary, fronm an honesty of mind, and a mere
what his station, or how far he had power jocundity of humor, they would all of them
to hurt him hereafter;    but, if it was a be crossed out in course.
dirty action,-without more ado,-The man  Eugenius would never admit this; and
was a dirty fellow; —and so on.-And as would often tell him, that one day or other
his comments had usually the ill fate to be he would certainly be reckoned with; and
terminated either in a bon mot, or to be en- he would often add, in' an accent of sorrowlivened throuoghout with, some drollery or ful apprehension, —to the uttermost mite.
humor of expression, it gave wings to To which Yorick, with his usual carelessYorick's indiscretion. In a word, though ness of heart, would as often answer with
he never sought, yet, at the same time, as a pshaw!-and if the subject was started in
he seldom  shunned, occasions of saying the fields,-with a hop, skip, and a jump at
what came uppermost, and without much the end of it; but if'close pent up in the
ceremony,    he had but too many tempta- social chimney-corner, where the culprit
tions in life, of scattering his wit and his was barricado'd in with a table and a couple
humor,-his gibes and his jests, about him. of arm-chairs, and could not so readily fly
--  They were not lost for want of gath- off in a tangent, Eugenius fould then go
ering.                                on with his lecture upon discretion, in
What were the consequences, and what words to this purpose, though s6mewl,al
was Yorick's' catastrophe thereupon, you better put together:will read in the next chapter.          Trust me, dear Yorick, this unwary
C                                    2




Il


LIFE AND OPINIONS


pleasantry of thine will sooner or later bring
thee into scrapes and difficulties, which no
after-wit can extricate thee out of.  In
these sallies, too oft, I see it happens, that
a person laughed at considers himself in
the light of a person injured, with all the
rights of such a situation belonging to him;
and when thou viewest him in that light
too, and reckonest up his friends, his family,,
his kindred,' and allies,- and musterest
up with them the many recruits which will
list under him from a sense of common
danger,-'tis no extravagant arithmetic
to say, that for every ten jokes,-thou hast
got an hundred enemies; and till thou hast
gone on, and raised a swarm of wasps about
thine ears, and art half stung to'death by
them, thou wilt never be convinced it is so.
I cannot suspect it in the man whom I
esteem, that there is the least spur from
spleen or malevolence of intent in these
sallies;-I believe and know them to be
truly honest and, sportive:-but consider,
my dear lad, that fools cannot distinguish,
this,-and that knaves will not:: and that
thou knowest not what it is either to provoke the one, or to make merry with the
other:-  whenever they associate for mutual defence, depend upon it, they will carry
on the war in such a manner against thee,
my dear friend, as to make thee heartily
sick of it, and of thy life too.
Revenge from some baneful corner shall
level a tale of dishonor at thee, which no
Innocence of heart or integrity of conduct
shall set right.  The'fortunes of thy
house shall totter;-thy character, which
led the way to them, shall bleed on every
side of, it;-thy faith questioned,- thy
works belied,-thy wit forgotten,- thy
learning trampleu on. To wind up the last
scene of thy tragedy, Cruelty and Cowardice, twin ruffians, hired and, set on by Malice in the darj, shall strike together at all
thy infirmities and mistakes;-  the best
of us, my dear lad, lie open there, —and
trust me, —  trust me, Yorick, when to
gratify a private appetite, it is once resolved upon, that an innocent and an helpless creature shall be sacrificed,'tis an easy
matter to pick up sticks enough from any
rfizcket where it has strayed, to make afire
tl- ofer it up with.
Yorick scarce ever heard this sad vatici

nation of his destiny read over to him, b.':
with a tear stealing from his eye, and a
promissory look attending it that he was resolved, for the time to come, to ride his tit
with more sobriety.-But, alas, too late!a grand confederacy, with ***** and ***** at
the head of it, was formed. before the first
prediction of it.-The whole plan of attack,
just as Eugenius had foreboded, was put in
execution all at once,-with so little mercy
on the side of the allies, —and so little suspicion in Yorick, of what was carrying on
agaihst him,-that when he thought, good
easy man! full surely preferment was o'
ripening, —they had smote his root, and then
he fell, as many a worthy man had fallen
before him.
Yorick, however, fought it out with all
imaginable, gallantry for some time; till,
overpowered by numbers, and worn out at
length by the calamities of the war,-but
more so by the ungenerous manner in which
it was carried on,'-he threw down the
sword; and, though he kept up his spirits
in appearance to the last, he died, nevertheless, as was generally thought, quite
broken-hearted.
What inclined Eugenius to the same
opinion, was as follows:A few hours before Yorick breathed his
last, Eugenius stept in, with an intent to
take his last sight and last farewell of him.
Upon his drawing Yoricl's curtain, and asking how he felt himself, Yorick, looking
up in his face, took hold of his hand,-and,
after thanking him for the many tokens of
his friendship to him, for which, he said, if
it was their fate to meet heieafter, he would
thank him again and again,-he told him,
he was within a few hours of giving his
enemies the slip for ever.-I hope not, answered Eugenius, with tears trickling down
his cheeks, and with the tenderest tone that
ever man spoke,-I hope not, Yorick, said
he. —  Yorick replied with a look up, and a
gentle squeeze of Eugenius's hand, and that
was all-but it cut Eugenius to his heart.
-— Come, come, Yorick, quoth Eugenius,
wiping his eyes, and summoning up the man
within him,-my dear lad, be comforted,-let
not all thy spirits and fortitude forsake thee
at this crisis when thou most want'st them;
-who knows what resources are in store,
and what the power of God may yet do for




OF TRISTRY


tnee —-Yorick laid his hand upon his heart,
and gently shook his head-,For my pait,
continued Eugenius, crying bitterly as he
uttered the words,-I declare I know not,
Yorick, how to part with thee; and would
gladly flatter my hopes, added Eugenius,
cheering up his voice, that there is still
enough left of thee to make a Bishop, and
that I may live to see it.-I beseech thee,
Eugenius, quoth Yorick, taking off his nightcap, as well as he could with-his left handhis right being still clasped close in that of
Eugenius,-I beseech thee to take a view
of my head. —-' see nothing that ails it,
replied Eugenius. Then alas! my friend,
said Yorick, let me tell you, that'tis so
bruised and misshapen with the blows which
***** and ***** and some others have so unhandsdmely given me in the, dark, that I
might say with Sancho Panca, that, should
I recover, and "mitres thereupon be suffered
"to rain down from Heaven as thick as hail,
"not one of them would fit it." - Yorick's
last breath was hanging upon his trembling
lips, ready to depart as he uttered this;yet still it was uttered with something of
a Cervantic tone;'and as he spoke it,
Eugenius could perceive a stream of lambent fire lighted up for a moment in his
eyes:-faint.picture of those flashes of
his spirit, which (as Shakspeare said of his


aM SHANDY.                           19
ancestor) were wont to set'the table in a
roar!
Eugenius was convinced from this, that the
heart of his friend was broke: he squeezed
his hand, —and then walked softly"out of
the room, weeping as he walked. Yorick
folloved Eugenius with his eyes to the door
-he then closed them,-and never opened
them more.
He lies buried in the corner of his churchyard in the parish of.;, under a plain
marble slab, which his friend Eugenius, by
leave of his executors, laid upon his grave,
with no more than these three words of inscription, serving both for his epitaph and
elegy:

I, w     /6a  $?  r26cl II


Ten times a day has Yorick's gnost the
consolation to hear his monumental inscription read over with such a variety of plaintive tones as denote a general pity and esteem for him: -  a footway crossing the
church-yard, close by the side of his grave,
-not a passenger goes bywit'hout stopping
to cast a look upon it,-and sighing, as le
walks on,
ALAS,'POOR YORICK!




20                 LIFE AND OPINIONS




OF TRISTRAM        SHANDY. 
~CHAPE XIJII       | thought to be either of private interpret,,
tion, or of dark or doubtful meaning, after
fT is so long since the reader of this rhap- my Life and Opinions shall have been read
sodical work has been parted from the mid- over (now don't forget the meaning of the
wife, that it is high time to. mention her| word) by all the world — which, betwixt
again to him, merely to put himn in mind you ahd me, and in spite of all the gentlethat there is such a body still in the world, men-reviewers in Great Britain, and of all
and whom, upon the best judgment I' can that their worships -shall undertake to write
form upon my own plan at present, I am or say to the contrary,-I -am determined
going to introduce to him for good and all-: shall be the case. —I need. not tell your
but as fresh matter may be started, and Worship that all this is spoke in confidence.
much unexpected business fall out betwixt
the reader and myself, which may require
immediate dispatch, —-'twas right to take
care that the poor woman should not be             CHAP. XT.
lost in the mean time; because, when she
is wanted, we can no way do without her.  UPON looking into my mother's marriageI think, I told you that this good woman'settlement,.in order to satisfy myself and
was a person of no small note and conse- reader in a, point necessary to be cleared
quence throughout our whole Village and up, before we could proceed any farther in
township; —that her fame ha;d spread itself this history,-I had the good fortune to pop
to the very out-edge and circumference of upon the very thing I wajited before I had
that circle of importance, -of which kind read a day and a half straight forwards:every soul living, whether he has a shirt it might have taken me up a month;to his back or not —-has one surrounding which shows plainly, that when a man sits
him;-which said circle, by the way, when- down to write a history,-though it be but
ever it is said that such a one is of great the'History of Jack Hickathrift or Tom
weight and importance in the world,- -I Tlurnb, he knows no more than his heels
desire may be enlarged or contracted in what lets and confounded hindrances he is
your worship's fancy, in a compound ratio to meet with in his way,-or what a dance
of the station, profession, knowledge, abili- he may be led, by one excursion or another,
ties, height and depth (measuringboth'ways)'before all is over. Could a historiographer
of the personage brought before you.'  drive on'his history, as a muleteer drives on
In the present case, if I remember, I hismule,-straightforward;-forinstance,
fixed it about four or five miles; which not from Rome all the way to Loretto, without
only comprehended the whole parish, but ever once turning his head aside, either
extended itself to two or three of the ad- to the right hand or to the left -he might
jacent hamlets in the skirts of the next venture to foretell you to an hour when he
parish; which made a considerable thing should get'to'his journey's end; —- but the
of it. I must add, that she was, moreover, thing is, morally speaking, impossible; for
very well looked on at one large grange- if he is a man of the least spirit, he will
house, and some other odd houses and farms have fifty deviations from a straight line
within two or three miles, as I said, from to make with'this or that party as he goes
the smoke of her own \chimney: —but I along, which he can' noways avoid. He will
must here, once for all, inform you, that all have views and prospects to himself perthis will be more exactly delineated and petually soliciting his eye, which he can no
explain'd in a map, now in the hands of the more help standing still to look at than hfj
engraver,'which, with many other pieces can fly; he will, moreover, have varicus
and developments of this work, will be  Accounts to reconcile,
added to the end of.the twentieth volume,-  Anecdotes to pick up,
not to swell'the work,-I detest the thought  Inscriptions to make out,'of such a. thing;-but by way of comment-  Stories 1 w;eave im,
ary, scholium, illustration; and' key to such  Traditions to shift,
passages, incidents or innuendoes as shall be  Pper.-ona,;es to,'ail upon




22


IIF E ANAnD      IL INIONST


Pa.nevyrtc, to paste up at this door,
Pas(quinades at that:- all which both
the man and the mule are.exerpt from.
To sum up all, There are archives at every
stage to be look'd into, and rolls, records,,dicumnents, and endless genealogies, which
justice ever and anon calls him  back to
stay the reading of: - in-short, there is
no end of it;-for my own part, I declare I
have been at it these six weeks, making ail
the speed I possibly could,-and am not yet
horn:-I have just been able, and that is all,
to tell you when it happened, but nlot how;
-so that you see the thing is yet far from.
being accomplished.
These unforeseen stoppages, which I
own I had no conception of when I first set
out; —but which, I am convinced now, will
rather increase than diminish as I advance,
-have struck out a hint which I am resolved to follow;-  and that is,-not to be
in a hurry;-but to go on leisurely, writing
and publishing two volumes of my life
every year;-which, if I am suffered to go
on quietly, and'can make a tolerable bargain with my bookseller, I shall continue
to do as long as I live.
CHAP. XV.
THE article in my mother's marriage-settlement, which I told the reader I was at
the pains to search for. and which, now that
I have found it, I think proper to lay before
Itim,-is so much more fully expressed in
the deed itself than ever I can pretend to
do it, that it would be barbarity to take it
out of the lawyer's hand:-it is as follows:-'4    tfn thus  mnfenturc furttter
" Soitl tte-th-Thatthe said Walter Shan" dy, merchant, in consideration of the said
intended marriage to be had, and, by God's
blessing, to be well and truly solemnized' andconsummated between the said Wal" ter Shandy  and Elizabeth   Mollineux
"aforesaid, and divers other good and valuable causes and considerations him there"unto especially moving,-doth grant, co" venant, condescend, consent,' conclude,
"bargain, and fully agree to and with John
"Dixon, and James Turner, Esqrs. the
*'abov;'e-.narme.iL Trutees. &c &c. —to "[t;




"-That in case it should hereafter so fall
"out, chance, happen, or otherwise come to
" pass —That the said Walter Shandy,
"merchant, shall have left off business be.
"fore the time or times that the said Eliza"beth Mollineux shall according to the
"course of nature, or otherwise, have lefl
"off bearing and bringing forth children;" and that, in consequence of the said Wal"ter Shandy having so left off business, he
"shall, in despight, and against the free
"will, consent and good-liking of the said
" Elizabeth Mollineux,-make a departure
" from the city of London, in order to retire
"to and dwell upon his estate at Shandy
"Hall, in the county of —, or, at any
"other country-seat, castle, hall, mansion"house, messuage, or grange-house, now
"purchased or hereafter to be purchased,
"or upon any'part or parcel thereof:-'"That then, and as often as the said Eliza"beth Mollineux shall happen to be -en"ciente with child or children severally and
"lawfully begot, or to be begotten upon the
"body of the said Elizabeth'ollineux,
" during her said coverture,-he, the said
"Walter Shandy, shall, at his own proper
"costs and charges,,. and out of, his own
"proper moneys, upon good and reasonable
"notice, which is hereby agreed to be
"within six weeks of her'the said Elizabeth
"Mollineux's'full reckoning,'or time of
" supposed and computed delivery,-pay,
"or cause to be paid,' the sum of one' hun"dred and twenty. pounds good and lawful
"money, to John Dixon and James Turner,
"Esqrs. or assigns, —upon- trust and. confi"dence, and for, and unto' the use and uses,
"intent,'-end, and purpose following:" E]at i tO tQT2- That the said sum of
"one hundred and twenty pounds shall be
"paid into the hands of the said Elizabeth
"Mollineux, or to be otherwise applied by
"-them the said Trustees, for the well and
" truly hiring of one coach, with able and stuf"ficient horses, to carry and convey the body
"of the said Elizabeth Mollineux, and the
"child or children which she shall be then
"and there enciente and pregnant with,"unto the city of London; and for the fur"ther paying and defraying of all other in"cidental costs, charges, and expenses
" whatsoever,-in and about, and for, and
"relating to, her said intended delivery




07, TRISalTRAM STIANDY.~T


23


*and lying-in, in the said city or suburbs "knight's fees, views of frank-pledge, es" theeof: and that the said Elizabeth Mol- "cheats, reliefs, mines, quarries, goods and
"lineux shall and may, from time to time, "chattels of felons and fugitives, felons of
"and at all such time and times as are here " themselves, and put in exigent, deodands,
"covenanted and agreed upon,-peaceably "freewarrens, and all other royalties and
"and quietly hire the said coach and horses, "seigniories, rights and jurisdictions, priv"and have free ingress; egress, and regress "ileges and hereditaments whatsoever."throughout her journey, in and from the "      al O1 the advowson, donation, pre"said coach, according to the tenor, true ",sentation, and free disposition of the rec"intent, and meaning of these presents, "tory or parsonage of Shandy aforesaid, and
"without any let, suit, trouble, disturb- "all and every the tenths, tythes, glebe"ance, molestation, discharge, hindrance, " lands."-    - 
"forfeiture, eviction, vexation, interrup-  In three words, —My mother was to lie
"tion, or encumbrance, whatsoever:-and in (if she chose it) in London.
" that it shall moreover be lawful to and for  But in order to put a stop to the practi,
" the said Elizabeth Mollineux, from time of any unfair play on the part of my mother,
"'to time, and as oft or often as she shall which a marriage-article of this nature too
"well and truly be advanced in' her said manifestly opened a door to, and which in" pregnancy, to the time heretofore stipula- deed hadnever been thought of at all, but
"ted and agreed upon,-to live and reside for my uncle Toby Shandy,-a clause was
"in such" place or places, and in such fam- added in security of my father, which was
"ily or families, and with such relations, this:-" That in case my mother hereafter
"friends, and other persons within the said " should, at any time, put my father to the
"city of London, as she aft her'own will ", trouble and expense of a London journey,' and pleasure, notwithstanding her present "upon false cries and tokens,  that, for
"coverture, and as if she was afemme sole "every such inmst'Ice, she should forfeit all
"and unmarried,-shall think fit.-al'`6 " the right and title which the covenant
"tl~te U tbuitUrC ftuttir     [t l~tt,, "gave her to the next turn -but no more,
"rth, That forthe mQre effectually carrying "- and so on, toties quoties, in as effectual
" of the said covenant into execution, the said " a manner as if such a covenant betwixt" Walteir Shandy, mfierchant, doth hereby "them had not been made." —This, by the
"grant bargain, sell, release, and confirm way, was no more than what was reason" unto the said John Dixon and James Turn- able;-and'yet, as reasonable as it was, I
"er, Esqrs. their heirs, executors, and as- have ever thought, it hard that the whole
"'signs, in their actual possession now being, weight of the article should have fallen
"by virtue ofan indenture of bargain and sale entirely, as it did, upon myself.
"for a year to them the said John Dixon and  But I was begot'and born to misfortunes;'"James Turner, Esqrs. by him the said Wal- -for my poor mother, whether it was wind
"ter Shandy, merchant, thereofmade; which or water,-or a compound of both,-or nei.
"said bargain and sale for a year, bears date ther;-or whether it was simply the mere
"the day next before the date of these pres- swell of imagination and fancy in her: —or
"' ents, and by force and virtue of the statute how far a strong wish and desire to have it
"for transferring of uses int:o possession,- so, might mislead her judgment:-in short,
"all the manor and lordship of Shandy in whether she was deceived or deceiving in
" the county of —, with all the rights, this matter, it no way becomes me to decide.
"members; and appurtenances thereof; and The fact was this, That in the latter end
"all and every the messuages, houses, of September, 1717, which \vas the yea]
"buildings, barns, stables, orchards, gar- before I was born, my mother having car"dens, backsides, tofts, crofts, garths, cot- ried my father up to town much against the
"tages, lands, meadows, feedSlngs, pastures, grain, he peremptorily insisted upon the
" marshes, commons, woods, underwoods, clause;-so that I was doomed, by ma.rrage" drains, fisheries, waters, and water- articles, to have my nose squeez'd as flta'courses;-together with all rents,- re- to my face, as if the destinies had actually
r' sions. services. annuities, fee-farms, spun me without one.




24


IFE - AND OPINIONS -


-How this event came about,-and.what nothing but'laugh and.cry in a breath,
a train of vexatious disappointments, in one from one end to the other of them; all the
stage'or other of my life, have pursued me way.
from the mere loss, or rather compression,  From Grantham, till they had crossed the
of this one single member, —shall be laid Trent, my father was out-of all kind of pabefore the reader all in due time.    tience at the vile trick and imposition which
he fancied my mother.had put upon him in
this affair.-"'Certainly," he would say to
himself, over and over again, " the woman
CHAP~..XVI        "could not be deceived herself-if she
"could,    what weakness!" tormenting
MY father, as any body may'naturally word! which led his imagination a thorny
imagine, came down with my mother into dance, and before all was' over, played the
the country, in but..a pettish kind of a hu- deuce and all with him;  for sure as
mor. The,first twenty or five-and-twenty ever the word weakness was uttered, and
miles,'he did nothing in the world but fret struck full upon his brain,-so sure it set
and tease. himself, and.indeed my mother him upon running divisions upon how many
too, about the cursed expense, which he kinds of weaknesses there were;- that
said might every shilling of it. have been there was such a thing as weakness of the
saved. —Then, what vexed'him more than body,-as well as weakness of the mind,-.cry thing else was, the provoking time and then he, would.do nothing but syllogize
of the year,-which, as I told you, was to- within himself, for a stage or two together,
wards the end of September, when his how' far the cause of all these vexations
wall-fruit, and -green gages especially, in might, or might not, have- arisen out of
which he was very curious, were just:ready himself:
for pulling. —"-Iad he been whistled up  In short, he had so many little subjects'to London, upon a Tom Fool's efrand, in of disquietude springing out of'this one'any other month of the whole year, he affair, all fretting successively in his mind
"should not have said three words about it." as they rose up in it, that my mother, whatFor the next two whole stages, no sub- ever was her journey up, had but an uneasy
ject would go down, but the heavy blow he journey of it down.  In a word, as she
had sustained from the loss of a son, whom complained- to, my uncle Toby, he would
it seems he had fully reckoned upon in his have tired out the patience of any flesh
mind, and registered, down in his pocket- alive.
book, as a second staff for his old age, in'
case Bobby should fail him. "The disap"pointment of this (he said) was ten times
"more to a wise man than all the' money            CTAP. XVII.
"which the journey, &c. had cost him, put
"together:-rot the hundred and' twenty  THOUGH my father travelled homewards,
"pounds,-he did not mind it a rush."  as I told you, in none of the best of moods,
From Stilton, all the way to Grantham, -pshawing and: pishing all the way down,
nothing in the whole affair provoked him -yet he had the complaisance to- keep the
so much as the condolences of' lhi friends, worst part of the story still to himself;find the foolish figure they should both which was the resolution he had taken of
make at church the first Sunday; — of doing himself the justice which my uncle
which, in the satirical vehemence of his Toby's clause in the marriage-settlement
wit, now sharpened a little by vexation, he empowered llim; nor was it till the very
would give so many humorous and pro- night in which I was begot, which was
voking descriptions,-and place his rib and thirteen months after, that she had the least
self in so many tormenting lights and atti- intimation of his design: when my father,
tides in the face of the who'e congregation, happening, as you remember, to be a little
that my mother declared, these two stages chagrined and 6ut of temper,-took occavwete,o truly tragi-comical, that she did sion, as they lay chatting grav'ely in bed




OF TRISTRAM SHANDY.


afterwards, talking over what was to come,
-to let her know that'she must accommodate'herself as well as she could to the bargain made between them in their marriagedeeds; which was. to lie-in of ler next
child in the -country, to balance the last
year's journey.
My father was a gentleman of many virttues,-but he had a strong spice of that in
his temper, which might, or mightlnot,.add
to the number. —'Tis known by the name
of Perseverance in a good cause,-and of
Obstinacy in a bad one: of this my mother
had so much knowledge, that she knew'twas to no purpose to make any remonstrance;-so she e'en resolved to sit down
quietly, and make the most of it.
CHAP. XVIII.
As the point was that night agreed, dr
rather determined, that my mother. should
lie-in of me in the country, she took her
measures accordingly; for which purpose,
when she was three days, or thereabbuts,
gone with child, she began to cast her eyes
upon the midwife, whom you have so often
heard me. mention; and before the week
was well got round, as the famous Dr.
MIanningham was not to be had, -she had
come to a final determination in her mind,
-   notwithstanding there was a.scientific
operator within so near a call as eight miles
of us, and who, moreover,- had expressly
wrote a five-shilling book upon the,subject
of midwifery, in which he had exposed, not
only the blunders of the sisterhood itself,but had likewise superadded many curious
improvements for the quicker extraction of
the foetus''in cross-births, and some other
cases of danger, which belay us in getting,into the world; notwithstanding all this,
my mother, I say, was absolutely'determined to trust her life, and mine with it,
into no soul's hand but this old woman's
only.-Now this I like: —When we cannot
get at the very thing we wish,-never to
take up with the next best in degree to it.
No; that's pitiful beyond description.-It is
more than a week from this very day, in
which I am now writing this book for the
edification of the world,-which is March
D




9, 1759,-that my dear, dear Jenny, observ
ing I looked a little grave, as she stood
cheapening a silk of five-and-twenty shillings a yard,-told the mercer, she was
sorry she had given him so much trouble;
-and immediately went and bought herself a yard-wide stuff of ten-pence a yard.
-'Tis the duplication of one and the same
greatness of soul; only,, what lessened the
honor of it somewhat/in my mother's case,
was, that she could not heroine it into so
violent and hazardous an extreme. as one in
her situation might have wished, because
the old midwife'had really some little claim
to be-depended upon,-as much, at least, as
success could give her; having,' in the.course of her practice of near twenty years
in the parish, brought every mother's son
of them. into the world without any one slip
or accident which could fairly be laid to her
account.
These facts, though they had their weight,
yet did not altogether satisfy some few
scruples and uneasinesses which hung upon
my fabther's spirits in relation to this choice.
-To say nothing of the natural workings.
of. humanity and justice-or of the yearnings of parental and connubial Jove, all
which prompted: him to leave as little to
hazard as possible in a. case of this kind;
- he felt himself concerned in a particular mlanner, that all should go right in the
present case;-from the accumulated sorrow he lay open to, should any evil betide
his wife and child in lying-in at Shandy-.Hall. —He knew the world judged by
events, and.:would add to his afflictions in
such a misfortune, by loading him with the
whole blame of. it.- -" Alas o'day!-had
"Mrs. Shandy (poor gentlewoman)   had
"but her wish. in going up to town just to
" lie-in and come down.again;-which, they
"say, she begged and prayed for upon her
"bare knees, —-and which in my opinion,
"considering the fortune which Mr. Shandy
"got with her,-was no such mighty matter
4 "to have' complied with, the lady and her
",babe might both of them have been alit e
"at this hour."
This exclamation, my father knew, was
unanswerable;-and yet, it was not.merely
to shelter himself,-nor was it altogether
for the care of his offspring and wife thai.
he seemed so extremely anxi;uu apout this
3




w) O                LIFE, AND-' 1P~


OPINIONS




point;-my father had extensive views "care, that my metropolis totter'd no,
of' things,- and stood moreover, as he "through its oviw weight -that the head
thouhllt,'deeply concerned in -it for the "be no longer too big for the body;-that
public good, from the dread he entertained "the extremes, now Wasted and pinn'd in,
of the bad uses an ill-fated instance might "be restored to their due share of nourishbe put to.                             "ment, and regain with it their natural
He was very sensible that all political "strength and beauty:-I would effectually
writers upon the subject had unanimously "provide, That the meadows and corn-fields
agreed and lamented, from the beginning "of my dominions should laugh and sing;
of queen Elizabeth's reign down to his own "-that good cheer and hospitality flourish
time, that the current of men and money "once more;-and that such weight and
towards the metropolis, upon one frivolous "influence be put thereby into the hands of
errand or another,-set in so strong,-as "the Squiralty of my kingdom, as should
to become dangerous to our civil rights,- "counterpoise what I perceive my Nobility
though, by the bye,   a current was not "are now taking'from them.
the image he took most delight in; —a dis-  "Why are there so few palaces and gentemper was here his favorite metaphor, and "tlemen's seats," he would ask with some
he would run it down into a perfect alle- emotion, as he walked across the -room,
gory, by maintaining it was identically the "throughout so many delicious provinces
same in the body national as: in the body "in France' Whence is it that the few renatural, where the blood and spirits were "maining'chateaus amongst them' are so
driven up into the head faster than they "dismantled,-so unfurnished, and in so
could find their'ways down; — a stoppage "ruinous and desolate a condition -  Beof circulation mustensue, which was death "'cause, Sir," >(he would say) "in that kingin both cases.                         "dom no man has any country-interest to
There was little danger, he would say, of "support:-the little interest of any kiad
losing- our liberties'by'French politics or "which any man has anywhere in it, is conFrench invasions;   nor was he so much "centrated in the court, and the looks of
in pain of a consumption from-the mass of "the Grand Monarch: by the sunshine of
corrupted matter and ulcerated humors in "Whose countenance, or the clouds which
our constitution, which he hoped was not so "pass across it, every Frenchman lives or
bad as it was imagined:-but he verily "dies."
feared, that in some violent push we should  Another political reason which prompted
go off, all at once, in a state-apoplexy;- my father so strongly to guard against the
and then he would say, The Lord have least evil accident in my mother's lying-'n
mercy upon us all.                    in the country, — was, That any such i1nMVIy father was never able to give the stance would infallibly throw a balance of
history of this distemper,-without the power, too great already, into the weaker
remedy along with it.                  vessels of the gentry, in his own, or higher
"Was I an absolute prince," he would stations; —-hich, with the many other
say, pulling up his breeches with both his usurped rights which that part of the conhands, as he rose'from his arm-chair, "I stitution was hourly establishing,-would,
"would appoint able judges, at every avenue in the end, prove fatal to the monarchical
"of my metropolis, who should' take cog- system of domestic government established
"'nizance of every fool's business Who came in the first creation of things by God.
" there;-and if, upon a fair and candid  In-this point he was entirely of Sir Rob"hearing, it appeared not of weight suffi- ert Filmer's opinion, That the plans and
"cient to leave his own home, and come institutions of the greatest monarchies in
" up, bag and baggage, with his wife and the eastern parts of the world, were, origin-'children, farmer's sons, -c. 4-c. at his ally, all stolen from that admirable pattern
backside, they should be all sent back, and prototype of this household and paterna.
"from constable to constable, like vagrants! power;-which, for a century, he said, and
as they were, to the'place of their legal more, had gradually been degenerating away' ettiemnents. By this means I should take into a mixed government:  the form of




OF -TRISTRAM.~ SHAhNDY.


27


which, however desirable in great combina- better evidence than, I am positive, at prestions of the species, - was very trouble- ent can be produced against me. —Not that
some in small ones,-and seldom produced I can be so vain or unreasonable, Madam, as
a ny thing, that he saw, but sorrow and con- to desire you should therefore think that my
tusion.                                dear, dear Jenny is my kept mistress;-no,
For all these reasons, private and public, — that would be flattering my character in
put together, —my father' was for having the other extreme, and giving -it an air of
the man-midwife by all means;-my mo- freedom, which, perhaps, it has no kind of
the, by no means. My:father begged and right to. All I contend for, is the utter imentreated she would for once recede from possibility, for some volumes, that you, or
her prerogative in this matter, and suffer the most penetrating. spirit upon earth,
him to choose for her: —my mother, on the should know how this matter really stands.
contrary, insistedupon her privilege in this -It is-not impossible but that my dear,
matter, to choose for herself,-and have no dear Jenny! tender as the appellation is,
mortal's- help but the old woman's.-What may be my clhild. — Consider, —-I was
could my father do 3 He was almost at his born in the year eighteen.-Nor is there any
wit's end'; talked it over with her in all thing unnatural or extravagant in the suppomoods;-placed his arguments in all lights; sition, that my dear, dear Jenny may be my
-argued the matter with her like a chris- friend! —Friend! —My friend. —urely,
tian, —like a heathen,-like a.husband,-  Madam, a friendship between the two sexes
like a father,-like a patriot,-like a man: may subsist, and be supported without —
— My mother answered every thing only Fy! Mr. Shandy. —Without any thing,
like a woman; which was a little hard upon Madam, but that tender and delicious sentiher;-for as she could not assume and fight ment which ever mixes in friendship, where't out behind such a variety of characters,- there is a difference of sex. Let me entreat'twas: no fair match;-'twas seven to one. you to.study the pure and sentimental parts
-What could my mother do6? She had the of the best French  romances;-it will
advantage (otherwise she had been certainly really, Madam, astonish you to. see with
overpowered) of a small reinforcement of what a variety of chaste expressions this
chagrin personal at the bottom, which bore delicious sentiment which I have the honor
her up, and enabled her to dispute the affair to speak of, is dress'd out.
with my father with so equal an advantage,
-that both sides sung Te.Deum. In a
word, my mother was to have the old woman,
-and the operator was to have license to            CItAP. XIX.
drink a bottle of wine with my father and
my uncle Toby Shandy in the back parlor,  I WOULD sooner undertake to explain the
-for which he was to be paid five guineas. hardest problem in Geometry, than pretepd
I must beg leave, before I finish this chap- to account for it, that a gentleman of my
ter, to enter a caveat in the breast of my father's great good sense,-knowing,(as the
fair reader;-and it is this;-  not to take reader must have observed him, and curious
it absolutely for granted, from an unguarded too in philosophy,-wise also in political
word or two which I have dropped in it,,reasoning, —and in polemical (as he will
— "That I am. a married man."-I own, find) no way ignorant,-could be capable of
the; tender appellation of my dear, dear entertaining a n6tion in his head, so out of
Jenny,-with some other-strokes of conjugal the common track,-that I fear the reader,;knovledge, interspersed here and there,, when I come to mention it to him, if he is
might naturally enough have misled the the least of a choleric temperj will immemost candid judge in the world into such a di "tely throw the book by; if mercurial, he
determination against me. -All I plead for will laugh most heartily at it;-and if he
in this case, Madam, is strict justice, and is of a grave and saturnine cast, he will at
chat you do so much of it to me as well as first sight absolutely condemn'as fanciful
to yourself, —as not to prejudge, or receive and extravagant; and that was in respect
euch an impression of me, till you have to the choice and imposition of christila_




28                         LIFE AND OPINIONS
names, on which ihe thought a great deal it, would you have consented to such a
more depended than what superficial minds' desecration of him'? -0 my' God'! he
were capable of conceiving.            would say, looking up, if I know your temHis opinion in this matter was, That there per right, Sir,-you are incapable of it;-.vas, a strange kind of magic bias, which you would have trampled upon the offer;good or bad'names, as he called them, irre- you would have thrown tne tehlptation at
sistibly impressed upon our characters and the tempter's head with abhorrence.
conduct.                                 Your greatness of mind in this action,
The hero of Cervantes argued not the which I admire, with that generous conpoint with more seriousness,-nor had he tempt of money, which you show me in the
more faith,-or more to say on the powers whole transaction, is really noble;-and
of necromancy in dishonoring his deeds,-  what'renders it more so, is the principle of
or on Dulcinea's name, in she'dding lustre it:-the workings of a parent's love'upon
upon them, than my father had on those of the truth and conviction of this very hypoTrisniegistus or Aichimedes on the one thesis, namely, That was your son called
hand,-or ofNyky and Simkin on the other. Judas,-the sordid and treacherous idea, so
How many Caesars and Pompeys, he would inseparable from the name, would have act'say, by mere inspiration of the names, have companied him through'life like his shadow,
been rendered worthy of them! And, how and, in the end, made a miser and a rascal
inany, he would add, are there, who might of him,' in spite, Sir, of your example.
have done exceeding well in the world, had  I never knew a man able to answer this
not their characters and spirits been totally argument. —-But, indeed, to speak of my
depressed and Nicodemus'd into nothing!  fathei as he was;-he was certainly irreI see plainly,'Sir, by your looks (or as sistible;-both in his orations and dispultathe case happened) my father would say- tions;-he was born an orator; -eoa&oi'K7cs..that you do nrot heartily subscribe to this -Persuasion hung upon his lips,'/and the
opinion of mine,- which; to those, jie' would el'ements of Logic and Rhetoric were so
add, who have not'carefully; sifted it to the blended up in him,-and, withal, he had'so
bottom,-I own has' an air more of fancy shrewd a guess at the weakness and pasthan of solid reasoning in it; — and yet, sions of his respondent,-that NATURE
my dear Sir, if I may presume to know might have stood up and said,'-" This man
your character, I am morally assured, I "is eloquent."-In short, whether he was on
should hazard little in stating' a case to you, the weakl o the strong side of'the question,
not as a party in the dispute,-but as a'twas hazardous in either case to attack
judge, and trusting -my appeal upon it to him:-and yet,'tis strange, he had never
your own good sense and candid disquisi- read Cicero, nor Quintilian de Oratore,
tion in this matter;-you are a person nor Isocrates, nor Aristotle, nor Longinus,
free from as many narrow prejudices' of amongst the antients;-nor Vossius, nor
education as most me6r:-and, if I may pre- Skioppius,  nor  R amus, nor Farnaby,
sume to penetrate farther into' you,-of a -amongst the moderns; and, what is more
liberality of genius above bearing down an astonishing, he had never in his whole life
opinion, merely because it; wants friends. the least light or spark of subtilty struck'Your son,-your dear. son,-from  whose into his mind, by one single lecture upon
sweet and open temper you have so much Crackenthorp or Burgersdicus or any Dutch
to expect;-your Billy, Sir' —would you, logician or comm-ntator;-he knew not so
bfr the world, have called him JUDAS?-  much as in what the difference of, an argu-.
Would you, my dear Sir,' he would say, ment ad ignorantiam, and an argument
qaving his hand upon your breast, with the ad hoininem., consisted;'so that I well regenteeiest address,-and in that soft and'member, when he went up along with me
irresistible piano of voice which the nature to enter myvname in Jesus' College in ****,
of the argument-um ad hominem absolutely -it was a matter of just wonder with mv
requires,-S ould you, Sir if a Jew of a worthy tutor, and -wo or three fellows of
godtfther had proposed the naine for your that learned society,-that a man who.hilild, and offered you his purse along with I knew not so much as the names of his tools,




OF TRISTRAM      SHIANDY.
should be able to work after that fashion other, if not in
with them.                            his' death —be
To work with them in the. best manner rights with th
he could, was what my father was, however, this, he would
perpetually forced upon:;-for he.had a nay, he doubt,
thousand little sceptical notions of the comic parliament cou
kind to defend,-most of which notions, I well as you, t
verily: believe, at] first entered'upon the a power over s
footing, of mere whims, and of a vive la reasons, which
Bagatelle; and as such he would make yet adventured
merry with them for half an hour or so; farther.
and having sharpened his wit upon them,  It was obser
dismiss them till another day.         in consequenc
I mention this, not only as matter of hy- have told yoi
pothesis or conjecture. upon the progress and dislikings tov
establishment of my father's many odd there were st
opinions,-but as-a warning to the learned hung so equall
reader against the indiscreet reception of -that they we
such guests, who, after a. free and undis- him. Jack, I
turbed entrance, for some years, into our class: these m]
brains,-at length claim a kind of settle —-affirming of
ment there,-working     sometimes like there had bee]
yeast;-but nore generally after the man- at least, as w
ner of the gentle passion,:beginning in jest, world began,
— but ending in downright earnest.    them;-so thi
Whether this. was the case of the singu- against each
larity of. my father's notions,-or that his he thought th
judgment, at length, became the dupe.of other's effects
his wit;-or how far, in many of his no- ofter declare,.
tions, he might, though -oqd, be absolutely stone to choos{
right;   the reader, as he comes at-them, was my brotl
shall decide. All that I maintain here, is, these neutral
that in this one, of the influeicee of chris- which operate)
tian names, however it gained footing, he as "my father
was serious;-h  was all uniformity;-he when it was
was systematical, and, like all systematic timnes thank H
reasoners, he would move both heaven and drew was som
earth, and twist and torture every thing in tity in algebra
nature, to support his hypothesis. In a word, said, than not
I repeat it over again,-he' was serious; high:-Nur
and in consequence of it, he would lose all and Nick, he,
kind of; patience whenever he saw people,  But of all tl
especially of condition, who should have had the most
known better,-as careless and as indifferent Tristram;-h
about the name they imposed upon their contemptible c
child,-or more so, than in the choice of the world, thi
Ponto or Cupid for their puppy-dog.    duce nothing
This, he would say,'look'd ill;-and had, was extremely
moreover, this particular aggravation in it, the' midst of
viz. That when once a vile name was which, by the
wrongfully or injudiciously given,'twas volved,- he
not like the case of a man's character, in a sudden a
which, when wrong'd, might hereafter be rather Erotesi
cleared;-    and, possibly, some time or times a full fif


f9
29
the man's life, at least after, somehow or other, set to
eeworld: but the injury of
say, could never be undone.,
ed even whether an act of
]id reach it; —He knew as
ha.t the legislature assumed
urnames: but for very strong
he could give, it had never
I, he would say, to go a step
vable, that though my father,
ae of this opinion, had, as I
i, the strongest likings and
yards certain. names,-that
ill numbers of names which
y in the balance before him,
re absolutely indifferent to
)ick, and Tom, were of this
y father called neutral names;
-them, without a satire, That
a as many knaves and fools,
ise. and. good.men, since the
who had indifferently borne
at, like equal forces acting
)ther in contrary directions,
iey mutually destroyed each; for which reason, he would
He would not give a cherryamongst them. Bob,' which
ier's name, was another of
kinds of christian names,
d very little either way; and
happened to be at Epsom
given him,-he'would oftleaven it was no worse. Anething like a negative quanwith him;-'twas worse, he
hing,-William stood pretty
nps again was low with him:
said, was the Devil.
he names in the universe, he
unconquerable aversion for
e. had the lowest and most
opinion of it of any thing in
inking it could possibly proin rerum natura, but what
r mean and pitiful: so that in
a dispute on the subject, in'
bye, he was frequently inwould sometimes break oft'
nd spirited Epiphonema,'o
is, raised a third, and someth above the key of tne dis,q, 






30


LIFE AND"]D,~OPINIONS

course, —and demand it categorically of
his antagonist, Whether he would take
upoMi him to say, he had ever remembered,
— whether he had ever' read,-or even
whether he. had ever heard tell' of a man,
called Tristram, perfbrming any thing great
or worth recording — No;-he would sajy,
-Tristram!-The thing is impossible.
What could be wanting in my father but
to have wtote a book to publish this notion
of his to the world' Little boots -it to the
subtle speculatist to' stand single in his
opinions,-unless he gives them  proper
vent:L-It was the identical thing which
my father did:-for in'the year sixteen,
which was two years before I was born, he
was at the pains of writing an express
Dissertation simply upon the word Tristram,-showing the world, with great candor and modesty, the grounds of his great
abhorrence to the name.
When this story is compared with the
title-page,-will not the gentle reader pity
my. father from his soul l-to see an orderly
and well-disposed gentleman, who though
singular, yet inoffensive in his notions,so played upon in them by-cross-purposes —to look down upon the stage, and see him
baffled and overthrown in all his little systems and wishes'! to behold a train of events
perpetually falling out against him, and in so
critical and cruel a way, as if they had purposely been plann'd and pointed against
him, merely to insult his speculations! —In a word, to behold such a one, in his old.
age, ill-fitted for troubles, ten times in a day
suffering sorrow!-ten times in a day calling the child of his prayers Tristram!Melancholy dissyllabie of sound! which, to
his ears, was unison to Nincompoop, and
every name vituperative under Heaven.By his asles! I swear it,-if ever malignant spirit took pleasure, or busied, itself in
traversing the purposes of mortal man,-it
must have been here;-and if it was not necessary I should be born beforeI was christened, I would this moment give the reader
ail account of it.




you in it, Tlzat my mother was not a'Papist.. —Papist! you told me rio suchthing, Sir.
-Madam, I beg leave to repeat it over
again, that I told you as plain, at least, as
words, by direct inference, could tell you
such a thing.-Then, Sir, I must have missed
a page.-No, Madam,-you have'not missed
a word.-   Then I was asleep, Sir.-My
pride, Madam, cannot allow you that refuge.
— Then, I declare, I know nothing at all
about the matter.-That, Madam, is the
very fault I lay to your charge; and, as?
punishment for it, I'do insist upon it, that
you immediately turn back, that is, as soon
as you get to the next full stop, and read
the whole chapter over again. I have imposed this penance upon the lady, neither
out of wantonness nor cruelty, but from the
best of motives; and therefore shall make
her, no apology for it when she returns.back.
-'Tis to rebuke a vicious taste, which has
trept into thousands besides herself,-of
reading straight forwards, more in quest of
the adventures than of the deep erudition
and knowledge which a book of this cast, if
read ovei as it should be, would infallibly
impart with them.   The mind should be
accustomed to make wise reflections, and
draw curious conclusions, as it goes along;
the habitide of which made Pliny the
Younger affirm, "That he never read a
"book so bad,, but, he-drew some profit from
" it." The stories of Greece and Rome, run
over Without this turn and application,-do
less service, I affirm it, than the history of
Parismus and Parismenus, or of the Seven
Champions of England, read with it.
-   But here comes my fair lady. Have
you read over again" the chapter, Madam,
as I desired you?-You have: and did you
not observe the passage, upon the second
reading, which admits the inference ---
Not a word like it! Then', Madam, be pleased
to ponder well the last line but one of the
chapter, where I take upon me to say, "It
"was necessary I should.be born before I was
"christened."  Had my mother, Madam,
been a Papist, that consequence did not
follow.*
* The Romish Rituals'direct the baptizing of the
child in cases of danger, before it is born;-bilt upon
thin nrrrafi~n~ Thnt Rnoln~n  nr nthln~1~ ofln r.l4l-l'


CHAP. XX.


Ill.S [JU~ 1~U.  llb DUIII~  J ttl Ut -t.- Xl "I Llu, l JU t a
-   How    could you, Madam, be so nat- body be seen by the baptizer-but the Doctors of the
g tl   lt ca r b   I at Sorbonne, by a deliberation held amongst them, April
lentive in reading the last chapter? I told 10, 1733,-have enlarged the powers of the midwives.




OF TRISTRAM SHANDY.


31


-,t is a terrible misfortune- for this same this self-same vile pruriency for fresh ad-,boox of mine, but more so to the Republic ventures in all things, has got so strongly
of Letters;-so that my own is quite swal- into-our habit and hu'mor,-anrd              so wholly
lowed up in the consideration of it,-that intent are           we upon satisfying      the impaby determining, That though no part of the child's ment les enfans ainsi renfermes dansle sein de leurs
body should appear,- -that baptism shall, neverthe- meres, ce qui est contre la supposition presente;.t
less,'be admlinistered to it by injection,-par le moyen d'un autre c6te, considerant que les memes theolod'une, petite canulle,-Anglice,-a squirt —'tis very giens enseignent, que lon peut risquer les sacremens
stranga that St. Thomas Aquinas, who had so good a que Jesus Christ- etablis comme des moyens faciles,
mechanical lead, both for tying and untying the mais necessaires, pour sanctifier les hommes, et,knots of school divinity, should, after so much pains d'ailleurs estimant, que les enfans renfermes dans le
bestowed upon this-give up the point at last, as a sein de leurs meres, potrroient etre capables de salut,
sacond La chose impossible-" Infantes in maternis parcequ'ils sont capables de damnation;-pour ces
uteris existentes (quoth St. Thomas!) baptizari pos- considerations, et en egard a l'expose, suivant lequel
suint nullo modo."O ThoThomashomas!               on assure avoir'trpuve un moyen certain de baptiser
If the reader has the curiosity to see the question ces enfans ainsi renfermes, sans faire aucun toit a la
upon baptism by injection, as presented to the Doctors mere, le Conseil estine que l'on pourroit se servir du
of the Sorbonne, with their consultation thereupon, moyen propose, dans la' confiance qu'il a, que Dieu
it is as.follows:                                 n'a point laisse ces sortes d'enfans sahs aucuns se.
cours, et supposant, comme il est expos6, que le.moyen
MEMOIRE PRESENTE A MESSIEURS LES               dont il s'agit est propre a leur procurer le bapteme,
DOCTEURS DE SORBONNE.*                  cependant comme il s'agiroit, en autorisant la pra
tique-proposee, de changer urie r,'-gle universellement
"IUn Chirurgien Accoucheur, represente a Mes- tiqe proposee     chaner      rg universellen
" n Chirgien  Ae      o      uehe, rs. tablie, le Conseil croit que celul qui consulte doit
sieurs les Docteurs de Sorbonne, qu'il y a des cas, adresser a son evique, et-quil il'appamtient de
quoique trsrares, ou une mere ne scauroit accoujch-  a  di I utilite et du danger du moyen popose  e
eur,'et meme-ou''enfant est tellement renfer.me dans lcoine, sous le bon plaisir de l'nevdque, le Conseil es.
le sein de sa mefe, qu'il ne fait pa-r6itre aucune partie come  faudroi plaiecourir  Pape, que  e onsdroi
paria tiue qulil faudroit recourir ad Pape, quae a ie droit
de son corps, ce qui seroit un cas, suivant les Rituels d'expliquer les regles de leglise, et d'y der.oger dans le
de lui-confarer, du moins sous condition, le baptme.               sauroit obliger qulque sag
Le (:iurinqicositprtn, pr'l myncas, ou la loi ne scauroit obliger, quelque sage. et
Le Chirurgien, qui. consuite, pr6tend,:,par le moyen quelque utile que paroisse a'maniere de baptiser dont
d'un. ptitecanulle,.de pouvoir baptizer immediate- il s'agit, le Conseil ne pourroit I'approuver sans le
ment l'enfant, sans faire aucun tort A Ia snare-II
ent enfant, sans faire aucun tort  la mere — II concours de ces deux autorites. On conseile au moins
demand si'ce moyen, qu'il vient de proposer, est  celui qui consute d saddresser a son vque, t
permis et legitime, et s'il peut s'en servir dans les cas a lui faire part  d la pr esnte cision, afin que, si le
quil virelat entre dans les raisons sur lesquelles les doeREPONSE.                       teurs soussigns s'appisyent, il puisse'itre autorise,
"Le conseil estime, qui la question proposee souffre dans le qas den6cess.ite, ou il risqueroit trop d'attende grandes difficultes. Les Theologiens posent d'un dre que la permission fut demandee et accordee d'em
cote pour principe, que le bapteme, qui est une nais- ployer le moyen qu'il propose si avantageux au-salut
sance spirituelle, suppose une premiere naissance; i de, l'enfant. Au reste, le'Conseil, en estirnant que
faut etre ne dans le mnonde, pour renaitre en Jesus l'on pourroit s'en servim, croit cependant, que si les
Christ, comme ils l'enseignent. S. Thomas, 3 part enfans dont il s'agit, venoient au monde, contre l'es.
quwst. 88. artic. 11. suit cette doctrine comme une perancedeceux qui se seroientservisdu mmemmoyen,
verite constante; l'on' ne peut, dit ce S. Docteur, bap: il seroit necessaire de les baptiser sous condition; et
tiser les enfans qui sont renfermn dans le sein de leurs en cela le Conseil se conform  a tous les rituels, qui en
meres, et S. Thomas est fondA sur ce', que les enfans'autorisant le bapteme d'un enfant qui fait paroitre
ne sont point n6s et ne peuvent etre comptes parmi queue partie de son corps, erijoignent neantmoins,
lea,autres hommes; d'of il conclud, qu'ils ne peuvent et ordonnent de e baptisr sus condition, s  vient
etre l'objet d'une action ext6rieure pour recevoir par heureusement au monde.
D61ibere en Sorbonne, le 10 Avril, 1733.,
leur minsistere les sacremens necessaires au salut:           Delibere en Sorbonne, le 10 Avil. 1733.
"Pueri in maternis uteris existentes nondum prodi-.
erunt in lucem ut cum aliis hominibus vitam ducant:                           L. DE ROMIGNY.
unde non possunt subjici'actioni human., ut per-                             DE MARCILLY.
eorum ministeritum sacramenta recipiant. ad salu-   Mr. Tristram' Shandy'scobmpliments to Messrs. La
tum." Les rituels ordonnent dans la pratique ce que Moyne, De Rbmigiy, and'e Marcilly; hopes they all,
les thhologiens ont etabli sur les memes inatieres, et rested well the night after so tiresome a consultation.
ils deffendent tous d'une maniere unifornie, de baptiser  He'begs to know, whether, after the ceremony of
les enfans qui sont renfermes dans le sein de leurs marriage,, and before that of consummation, the bap
meres, s'ils ne font paroitre quelque partie de leurs tizing all the Homnouli at once, slapdash, by icjection,
corps. Le concours des thaologiens, et des rituels, would not be a shorter and safer'cut still; on condi
qui sont les regles des dioceses, paroit former une tion; as above, That if the Hohdmunculi do well, and
autorite qui termine la question presente; cependant:come safe into the world after this, that each and
Ie conseil de conscience considerant d'un cote, que le every of them shall be baptized agaih (sous condztion,)
raisonnement des theologiens est uniquement fonde -And provided, in the second place,,That the thing
sur une raison de convenance, et que la deffense des can be done, which Mr. Shandy apprehends it may
rituels suppose que Pon ne peut baptiser immediate- par le moyen d'une petite canulle,' and sans Jeavn
* Vide Deventer, Paris edit. 4to 1734. p. 366.  aucun tort. au pere.?




32                         LI FE AND OPINIONS
tience of our concupiscence thaf way, —that -That this copious store-house of orignsa.
ihthing but the gross and more carnal palts materials, is the trie and ntiiral cause that
of a composition will go down:- the subtle.our comedies are so.ruch better thlla those
hints and sly communications of science fly of France, or any others that either have, or
off, likespirits,upwards, —-the heavymoral can be wrote upon the Continent:  that
escapes downwards; and-both the one and discovery was not fully made till about the
the other are as much lost to the world, as middle of King William's reign,-when the'if they were still left in the bottom of the great Dryden, in writing one of'his long
ink-horn.    -,                    prefaces (if I mistake not) most fortunately
I wish the male-readerhas not passed by hit upon it. Indeed, toward the latter end
many'a one, as quaint and:curious as this of Queen Anne, the great Addison began
one, in which the female-reader has beep t6 patronize' the notion, and more fully exdetected. I wish it may have its effects;  plained it to the \vorld in one or two of his
and that all good people, both male and fe- Spectators.;-but the discovery was not his.
male, from example, may be taught to think  Then, fourthly and lastly, That' this
as well as read.                       strange irregularity in our climate, producing so strange an irregularity in our characters,-doth thereby, insome sort, make us
CHAP. XXI.                amends, by giving us somewhat to make us
merry with when the weather will not suffer
I wonder what's all.that noise, and us to go out of doors;-that observation is
running backwards and forwards for, above my own;-and was' struck out by me this
stairs. quoth my father, addressing himself, very rainy day, March 26, 1759, and'betwixt
after an hour and a half's silence, to my the hours of nine(aud ten in the morning.
uncle Toby,-   who, you'must know, was   Thus.-thus, my fellow-laborers and assitting on the opposite:side of the fire, smok- sociates in this great harvest of: our learning his social'pipe all the time,. in mute ing; now ripening before our eyes; thus it
contemplation of a new pair of black plush- is, by slow' steps'of casual increase, that
breeches which he had got on — What can our knowledge, physical, metaphysical, phythey bedoing, brother'-quoth my father,- siological, polemical, nautical, mathematiwe can scarce hear ourselves talk.     cal, enigmatical, technical,,biographical,
I think, replied my uncle Toby, taking his romantical, chemical,' and obstetrical, with
pipe from his mouth, and striking the head of fifty other branches of it (most of'em endit- two or three times upon the nail of his ing, as these do, in ical,)haves for these two.
left thumb as he began his sentence, —I last centuries and'more, gradually been
think, says he, —-but to enter rightly into creeping upwards towards that'A<cu of their
my uncle Toby's sentiments upon this mat- perfections, from which, if we may forn a
ter, you must be made to enter first a little conjecture from the advances of these last
into his character, the outlines of which I seven years, we cannot possibly be. far off.
shall just give you, and then the dialogue  When that happens, it is to be hopedt it
between him and my father will go on as will put an end to all kind of writings
well again.                            whatsoever,;-the want of all kibd of writPray, what was that man's name,-for I ing will put an end toall kind of reading;write in such a hurry, I have no time to re- and' that in- time, as war begets- poverty-;
collect or look for it,- who first made the poverty peace,-must, in course, put an end
observation, "That there was great incon- to all kind of knowledge,-and then"stancylin our air and climate  " W Whoever we shall have all to begin over again; or,
he was,'twas a just and good observation in other words, be exactly where. e
in. him. —But the corollary drawn from it, started.
namely, "That it'is this which has furnish-  --- Happy! thrice happy times! I
"ed us with such a variety of-odd and whim- only wish that the era of. my begetting, as
" sical chalacters;" —-that was not his:; —it well as the mode and manner of it, had been
was found out by another man, at least a a little alter'd, —- or that it could have
century and a half after him. Then again, been put off, with any convenience to my




OF TRISTRAM      SHANDY.                        33
father or mother, for some twenty or five- mine nothing upon this. —- Myway is ever
and-twenty years longer, when a man in to point out to;the. curious, different tracts
the literary world might have stood some of investigation, to come at the first springs
chance.                               of the events I tell;-not cwith'a pedantic
But I forget my uncle Toby, whom all Fescue,-or in the decisive manner of Tacithis while we have left knocking the ashes tus,.who outwits himself and his reader;out of his tobacco-pipe.              but with. the officious humility of a heart
His humor was of that particular species devoted to the. assistance merely of the inwhich does honor to our atmosphere; and I quisitive:-to them  I write, —and by
should have made no scruple of ranking him them I shall be read, —if any such readamongst one of the first-rate productions of ing as this could be supposed to hold out so
it, had not there appeared too many strong longs-to the very end of, the world.
lines in it of a family likeness, which showed  Why this cause of sorrow, therefore, was
thiat he derived the singularity of his tem- thus reserved for my father and uuncle, is
per more from blood, than either wind or undetermined -by me. But how and in
water, or any modifications or combinations what direction it exerted itself so as to beof them whatever; and I have, therefore, come. the cause of dissatisfaction between
oftentimes wondered,that my father, though them, after it began to operate, is-what I
I believe he' had his reasons for it, upon his am able to explain with great exactness,
observing some tokens of eccentricity in and is as follows:
my course when I was a boy, —should never  My uncle, Toby Shandy, Madam, was
once endeavor to account for them in this a gentleman, who -with the -virtues which
way; for all the Shandy-Family were of an usually constitute the character of a man
original character thiroughout: —I mean of honor and rectitude,-possessed one in
the males,-the females had no character a very eminent depree, which is seldom or
at all,-except,. indeed, my great-aunt Di- never put into the catalogue; and that was
nah, who, about sixty years ago, was mar- a most extreme and unparallel'd modesty
ried and.got-with child by the coachman; of nature; —— though I correct the word
for which my father, according to his hy- nature, for this reason, that I may not prepothesis of christian name,.would often judge -a point which must shortly come to.
say, She might thank her godfathers and a hearing, and that is, Whether this modgodmothers.                           esty of his.was natural or acquired  -
It will seem verystrange,-and I would Whichever way my uncle Toby came by
as soon think of dropping a riddle in the it,'twas nevertheless modesty in the truest
reader's way,.hich is not my interest to sense of it;: andithat is, Madam, not in redo,, as set him'upon guessing how it could gard to words, for he was so unhappy as to
come to pass,,that an event.of this kind, so have very little choice: in them,-but to
many years after it had happened, should things; —and  this kind: of modesty so
be reserved for the interruption of the peace possessed him, and it arose to such a height
and unity, which otherwise.so cordially sub- in him, as almost to equal, if such a thing
sisted, between my father. and my uncle could be,: even'. the. modesty of a woman;
Toby.. One would have thought that the that female nicety, Madam, and, nward
whole force of the misfortune should have cleanliness. of mind and fancy, in your sex,
spent and- wasted itself in the family:.at which makes you so much the awe of ours.
first,-as is generally the case.-But no-  You will imagine, Madam, that my uncle
thing ever. -wrought with our family after Toby had,contracted all this from this very
the, ordinary. way.:' Possibly at the very source;-that he had spent a great part of
time this happened, it might: have some- his time in converse with your sex; and,
thing else to afflict it; and as afflictions are that, from a thorough: knowledge. of' you,
sent down for our good, and that as this had and the.force of. imitation which such fair.
never done the Shandy Family any good at examples render irresistible, he had ac
all, it might lie waiting till apt tinres and quired this amiable turn of mind.
circumstances should.give it an opportunity  I'wish I could say so;-for unless it was
to dischare. its office.- Observe, I-deter- with. his sister-in-law, my father's wife aml
E




34
my mother, —  my uncle 1
changed three words with
many years.-No; he gotblow. —A blow! — Yes,
owing to a blow from a stor
a ball from the parapet of
the siege of Namur, which 
my uncle Toby's groin. —V
that effect it -The story.(
is long and interesting;running- my history all upoi
it you here. —'Tis for an
ter; and every circumstan
in its proper place, shall b
before you.-Till then, it is
er to give farther light into
say more than what I have st
That my uncle Toby was i
unparalleled modesty, whic
be somewhat subtilized and
constant heat of a little fa
they both so wrought toget
that he could-never bear to
of my aunt Dinah touch'd
the greatest emotion.-l —
it was enough to make th
his face;-but when' my
upon the story in mixed cc
the illustration of his hypot
obliged him to do,-the un
of one of the fairest branc
ily, would set my uncle T(
modesty o'bleeding; and
take my father aside, in th
cern imaginable, to expos
him,-he would give him ai
world,'only to let the story
My father, I believe, had
and tenderness for my mu
ever one brother bore towar
would have done any thing i
one brother in reason could
another, to have made m
heart easy in this, or any ot
this lay out of his power.
-My father, as I told
losopher in grain,-specul
atical;-and my aunt Dina
matter of as much consequ
the retrogradation of the p
nicus: —the backslidings of
rbit fortified the Copernica
e< after his name; and the
a iv ai'rt Dinah in her orbi


LIFE    AND OPINIONS
roby scarce ex- service in establishing my father's system
the sex in as which, I trust, will for ever hereafter be
it, Madam, by a called the SHANDEAN SYSTEM after his., Madam, it was  In any other family-dishonor, my father,
ie, broke off by I believe, had as nice a sense of shame as
a horn-work at any man whatever;-   and neither he, nor
struck full upon I dare say, Copernicus, would have divulVhich way could ged the affair in either case, or have taken
)f that, Madam, the least notice of it to the world; but for
but it would be the obligation they owed, as they thought,
a heaps to give to truth. —Amicus Plato,-my father would
episode hereaf- say, construing the words to,my uncle
ce relating to it, Toby as he went along;-Amicus Plato,e faithfully laid that is, Dinah was my aunt;-sed magis
r not in my pow- amica veritas, —but Truth is my sister.
this matter, or  This contrariety of humors betwixt my
idalready, —  father and my uncle, was the source of
a gentleman of many a fraternal squabble. The one could
h happening to not bear to hear the tale of family disgrace
[-rarefied by the recorded;-  and the other would scarce
Lmily pride,; —  ever let a day pass to an end without some;her within him hint at it.
hear the affair-  For God's sake, my uncle Toby would
upon, but with cry,- and for my sake, and for all our'he least hint of sakes, my-dear brother Shandy,-do let this!e blood fly into story of our- aunt's and her ashes sleep iir
father enlarged peace. —Iow can you,-how can you have
)mpanies, which so little feeling and compassion for the
hesis frequently character of our family?  What is the
fortunate blight character of a family to an hypothesis I my
hes of the fam- father would reply.- Nay, if you come to
)by's honor and that,-what is the life of a family? —-The
he would often life of a family-my uncle Toby would say,
le greatest con- throwing himselfback in his arm-chair, and
itulate and tell lifting.up his hands, his eyes, and. one leg.
ny thing in the -- Yes, the life, —my father would say,
rest.         maintaining his point. How many thouthe truest love sands of'em  are there, every year that
nclei Toby, that comes, cast away, (in all civilized countries
rds another; and at least) — and considered as nothing but
in nature, which common air in competition of an hypothesis!
have desir'd of In my plain sense of things, my uncle Toy uncle Toby's by would answer, —-every such instance;her point. But is downright Madrder, let who will commit
it.-There lies your mistake, my father
you, was a phi- would, reply;: - for, in Foro Scientia
lative, —system- there is no such thing as Murder; —'tis
h's affair was a only Death, brother.
tence to him, as  My uncle Toby would never offer to anlanets to Coper- swer this by any other'kind of argument? Venus in her than that oqf whistling half a dozen bars of
n system, called Lillebullero. —You must know it was the
backslidings of usual channel through which his. passions
t, did the same got vept, wben any thing shocked: or sur



prised him:- but especia
thing, which he deem'd ve:
offered.
As not one of our logical A
of the commentators upon tE
member, have.thought pr
name to this particular speci
-I here take the liberty to i
two reasons: first, That,,in 
all confusion in disputes, i1
much distinguished for ev<
other species of argumentmentum ad Vericundiam,
Fortiort, or any other arg
ever;-and, secondly, That
by my children's children, v
laid to rest, —that their
father's head had been bus
purpose once, as other peo
had invented a name,-a
thrown it into the Treasury
gica, for one of the most ul
guments in the whole sciei
end of disputation, is more
convince,-they may' add, ii
to one of the best argument
I do therefore, by these p,older and command, That i
distinguished by the name
Argumentumr Fistulatoriu7
— and that it rank hereaft
gumentum Baculinum and
tum ad Crumenam, and fol
be treated of in the same c
As for the Argumenth
which is never used but
against the man;-and th
ad Rein, which, contrariw:
of by the man only against
as* these two are enough. i
one lecture; —and more(
is the best answer to the o
likewise be kept apart, and
a place by themselves.


OF TRISTRAM SHANDY.                              35
illy when any in London, in the year 1610, by John BeaJ
ry absurd, was dwelling in Aldersgate-street, "That it.is
"an abominable thing for a man to' comvriters, nor any "mend himself:'" —and I really think it
hem, that I re- is so.
)per to give a  And yet on the other hand, when a thing
es of argument, is executed in a masterly' kind -of a fashion,
do it myself, for which thing is not likely to be found out; —
order to prevent I think it is full as abominable, that a man
t may stand as should lose the honor of it, and go out of
er, from  every the world with the conceit of it rotting) in
-as'the Argu- his head.
ex Absurdo, ex  This is precisely my situation.,ument whatso-. For in this long digression,.which I was
it may be said accidentally led into, as in all my digresvhen my head is sions (one only excepted) there is a masterlearn'd grand- stroke of digressive, skill, the merit of which
sied -to as much has all along, I fear, been overlooked by my
)ple's.-That he reader,-not for want of penetration in him,
nd generously -but because'tis an excellence seldom
r of the Ars Lo- looked for, or expected indeed, in a digresnanswerable ar- sion: —and it is this: That,'though my diice; and, if the gressions are all fair, as-you observe'-and
to silence than, that I fly off from what I am about, as far,
f they please,- and as often too, as any. writer in Great
ts too.        Britain,-yet I constantly take care to order
)resents, strictly affairs so, that my main business does not
t be known and stand still in my absence.
and title of the  I was just going, for example; to have
n, and no other; given you the great outlines of my uncle;er with the Ar- Toby's most whimsical character:-when
the Argumen- my aunt Dinah and the coachman came
r ever hereafter acrbss us, and led us a -vagary some milhapter.        lions of miles into the very heart of the planum  Tripodium, etary system': notwithstanding'all this, you
by the woman perceive that the drawing of my uncle
e Argumentum Toby's character went on gently all the
ise, is made use time;-not the great contours of it,-that
t the woman:- was impossible,-but some familiar strokes
n conscience for and faint designations' of it, were here
over, as the one and there touch'd on, as we' went along,
ther,-let them so that you are much better acquainted
be treated of in with my uncle Toby now than you was
before.'
By this contrivance, the machinery of my
work is of a species by itself; two contrary
motions are introduced into it, and recon[L             ciled, which were thought tobe at variance
with each other. In a word, my work is
1, I mean the fa- digressive, and it is progressive too,-and
was Bishop of at the same time..e First's reign,',This, Sir, is a very different story froml
ides, at the end that' of the earth's moving round her axis
mation, imprinted in her diurnal rotation, with her prograru


CHAP. XXI
THE learned Bishop Hal:
mous Dr. Joseph Hall,' wh(
Exeter in King James th
tells us in one of his Decs
pf his Divine Art of Medit




"3f6                      LIFE AND OPINIONS
in ner elliptic orbit, which brings about-the  And, secondly, That had the said glass
year, and constitutes that variety and vicis- been there set up, nothing more would have
situde of seasons we enjoy;-though I own been wanting, in order to have taken a
it suggested the thought,-as I believe the man's character, but to have taken a chair
greatest of our boasted improvements and and gone softly, as you would' to a dioptrical
discoveries have come from such trifling bee-hive, and; lookd- in, —viewed the soul
hints.                                 stark naked;-observed all her motions,Digressions, incontestably, are the sun- her machiations;-traced all her maggots
shine;-they are the life, the soul of read- from their first engendering to their crawling!-take them out of this book, for in- ing forth;-watcled her loose in her frisks,
stance, you. might as well take the book her gambols, her caprices; and after some
along with them; —one cold eternal winter notice of her more solemn deportment, conwould reign in every page of it; restore them sequent upon such frisks, &c. — then
to the Writer;-he steps forth like a bride- taken your pen and inl, and set down nogroom,-bids All-hail; brings in variety; thingbut what you had seen, and could have
and forbids the appetite to fail,      sworn-to.-But this is an advantage not tobe:Allthe dexterity is inthe good cookery and had by the biographer in this planet;-in the
management of them, so as to be not only planet Mercury (belike) it may be so; if
for the advantage of the reader, but also of not, better still for him;-for there, the
the author,' whose distress- in this matter is intense heat-of the country, which is proved
truly pitiable: for if he beginsa digression, by computators, from its vicinity to the sun,
-from  that moment, I observe, his whole to be more than equal to that of red-hot iron,
work stands stock still;-and if he goes on -must, I think, long ago have vitrified the
with- his main work, then there is an end bodies of the inhabitants (as the'efficient
of his digression.                     cause) to suit them for the climate (which
--  Thisis vile work.-Forwhich'reason, is the final cause); so that betwixt them
from the beginning of this, you see, I have both, all the tenements of their souls, from
constructed the main work, and the adven- top to bottom, may be nothing else, for aught
titious parts of it, with such intersections, the soundest philosophy can show to the conand' have so complicated -and involved the trary, but one fine transparent body of clear
digressive and progressive movements, one glass (bating the umbilical-ikot)-so that,
wheel within another, that the whole ma- till the inhabitants grow old and tolerably
chine, in general, has been kept a-going;-  wrinkled, whereby the rays of light, in passand, what's more, it shall be kept a-going ing through them, become so monstrously
these forty years,- if it pleases the fountain refracted,  or return reflected from their
of health to bless me so long -with life and surfaces in such transverse lines to the eye,
good spirits.                          that a man cannot be seen through,-his
soul might as well, unless for mere ceremony, or the trifling advantage which' the
umbilical point gave her,-might, upon all
CHAP. - XxIIi             - other accounts, I say, as well play the fool
out o'doors as in her own house.
I HAVE a strong propensity in me to begin  But this, as, I said above, is not the case
this chapter very nonsensically; and I will of the inhabitants of this earth:-our minds
not balk my fancy;-accordingly I set off shine not through the body,-but are wrapt
thus:                                  up here in a dark covering of uncrystalIf the fixture of Momus's glass in'the lized flesh and blood; so that, if we would
human breast, according to the' proposed come to the specific characters of them, we
emnendation of that arch-critic, had taken must go some other way to work.
tlace,-first, This foolish consequence   Many, in good truth, are the ways which
would certainly have followed:-That the human wit has been forced to take, to do this
very wisest and very gravest of us'all, in thing with exactness.
one coin or other. must have paid window-  Some, for instance, draw all their characumioney every davy of ur lives.        ters with wind-instruments.-Virgil takes




OF TRISTRAM SHANDY                               37
notice of that way in the affair of iDido and rors in giving you my uncle Toby's charac~Eneas:-but it isas fallacious as the breath ter, I am determined to draw it by no meof fame;-and, moreover, bespeaks a nar- chanical help whatever; —nor shall my
row genius. I am, not ignbrant that the pencil be guided by any one wind-instruItalians pretend to a mathematical exact- ment which ever was.blown upon, either on
ness in their designations of one particular this, or on the other bide of the Alps;;-nor
sort of character among them, from the will I consider either his repletions or his
forte or piano of a certain wind-instrument discharges,-or tquch upon his non-naturals;
they use,-which they say is infallible.-I butin aword, I will draw myuncle Toby's
dare not mention the name of the iristru- character from his HOBBY-HORSE.
ment in this place;'tis sufficient we have
it amongst us,-but never think of making
a drawing by it:-thisis enigmatical, and intended to be so, at least ad populum:-and        CHAP. XXIV.
therefore, I beg, Madam, when you come
here, that you read on as fast as you can,  IF I was not morally sure that tne reader
and never stop to make any inquiry about it. must. be out of all patience for my uncle
There are others again, who will draw a Toby's character,-I would. here previously
man's character from no.other, helps in the have convinced him that there is no instruworld, but merely from his evacuations;- merlt so..fit to draw such a thing with, as
but this often gives a very incorrect outline, that which I'have pitch'd upon.
-unless, indeed, you take a sketch of his  A man and his HOBBY-HORSE, though I
repletions too; and by correcting. one draw- cannot say that they act and re-act exactly
ing from the other, compound one good after the samre manner in.which the soul
figure out of them both.               and body do upon each other; yet, doubtless,
I should have no objection tothis method, there is a communication between them of
but that I think it must smell'too strong some kind; and my opinion rather is, that
of the lamp,-and be render'd still more there is something in it more of the manoperose, by forcing you to have an eye to ner of electrified.bodies;-and that, by
the rest of his non-naturals. —Why the means of the heated parts of the rider,
most natural actions of a man's life should which come immediately into- contact with
be called'his non-naturals,-is -another the back of the HOBBY-HORSE-by long
question.                             journeys and much friction, it so happens
There are others, fourthly, who disdain that the body of the rider is at length. fill'd
every one of these expedients;-not from as fullof HOBBY-HORSICAL matter as it can
any fertility of their own, but from the va- hold; —-so that if you are able to give but
rious, ways of doing it, which they have bor- a clear description ofrthe nature of the one,
rowed from the honorable devices which you may form a pretty exact notion of the
the Pentagraphic Brethren* of the, brush genius and character of the other.
have shown in taking copies.-These, you  Now: the HOBBY-HORSE, which my uncle
must know, are your great historians.  Toby always rode upon,!was,'in my opinion,
iOne of these you will see drawing a full- a HOBBY-HORSE' well. worth giving a delength character against the light:-that's scription of, if it was only upon the score of
iliberal,-dishonest,-andE hard upon the his great singularity;-for you might have
character of the man who sits.        travelled from York to. Dover,-from Dover
Others, to mend the matter, will make a to Penzance.in Cornwall, and from Pendrawing of you in the Camer;-that is.zance to York back.again,: and not have
most unfair of all, because there you are seen:such another upponthe road; or if yoo
sure to be represented- in some of your had seen such.a one,:,whatever haste you
most ridiculous attitudes.            had been in, you must infallibly have stopp'd
To avoid all and every one of these er- to have taken a view of him. Indeed, the
* ___ -  -  -.. gait and figure of him was so strange, and
* Pentagraph, an instrument to copy Prints and so utterly unlike was he, from his headto
Pictures mechanically, and in any proportion,  his tail, to any one of the whole species




38
that it was now and then mad
dispute,-whether it was real
IHORSE or no:' but as the philo
use no other argument to the
disputed with him-'against tl
miotion, save that of rising up
and walking? across the room
my uncle Toby use no other
prove his HOBBY-HORSE wE
HORSE indeed, but by getting
and riding him about; —leavii
after that to determine the
thought fit.
In, good truth, my uncle T
him with so much pleasure, a]
my uncle Toby so well,-that
his head-very little.with wh
either said'or thought about it
It.is now high time, howeve
vou a description of him: —
regularly, I only beg you will' 
to acquaint you first, how mn
came by him.
CHAP. XXV.
THE wound in my uncle 
which he received at the sieg
rendering him unfit for the se
thought expedient he should _
gland, in order, if possible,.
rights.
He was four years totally
part of it to his bed, and all
room; and in the course of his
was all that time in hand, suff
able miseries,-owing to a s
exfoliations from the os pubis.
ward edge of that part -of tl
called the os illium;-  both
were dismally crush'd, as r
irregularity of the stone, whic
was broke off the parapet,-as
(though it was pretty large) w
the surgeon all along to thil
great injury which it had dol'oby's groin, was more owing 1


LIFE AND OPINIONS
e a matterof of the stone itself, than to the projectile
l!y a HOBBY- force of it;-which he would often tell him
sopher would was a great happiness.
sceptic, who  My father at that time was just' beginhe reality of ning business in London, and had taken a
upon his legs, house;-and as the truest friendship and
a;-so would cordiality subsisted between the two broargument to thers,-and that my father thought my unIs,a HOBBY- cle Toby could nowhere be so well nursed
upon his back and taken care of as in his own house,ng the world he assignhd him the best apartment in it;point as it and, what was a much more sincere mark
of his affection still, he would never suffer'oby mounted a friend or an acquaintance to step into the
nd he carried house on any occasion, but he would take
t he troubled him by the hand, and lead him up stairs to
at the world see his brother Toby, and chat an hour by
his bed-side..r,. that I give  The history of a soldier's wound beguiles
but to go on the pain of it;-my uncle's visitors at least
give me leave thought so; and in their daily calls upon
y uncle Toby him, from -the courtesy arising -out of that
belief, they would frequently turn the discourse to that subject-and from that subject the discourse would generally roll on
-to the siege itself.
These conversations were infinitely kind;
and my uncle Toby received great relief
roby's groin, from them, and would have received much
re of Namur, more, but that they brought him into some.rvice, it was unforeseen perplexities, which, for three
return to En-'months together, retarded his cure greatly;
to be set to and if he had not hit upon an expedient to
extricate.himsel'f out of them, I verily beconfined,- lieve they would have laid him in his grave.
of it to his  What these perplexities of my uncle
s cure, which Toby were,  -'tis impossible for you to
er'd unspeak- guess:-if'you couild,-I should blush; not
iuccession of as a relation,-not as a man,-nor even' as
and the out- a woman, —but I should blush as an author;
he coxendix, inasmuch as I set no small store by mywhich bones self upon this very account, that my reader
nuch by the has never yet been able to guess at any
h I told you thing: and in this, Sir, I am of so nice and
by its size,- singular a humor, that if I thought you
7hich inclined was'able to form the least judgment, or
nk, that the pr6bable conjecture to yourself, of what
ne my uncle was to come in the next page,-I would
to the gravity tear it out of my book.




THE
LIFE AND OPINIONS
OF


GENTLEMAN.


CHAP. I.
1 HAVE begun a new book, on purpose
that I might have room enough to explain
the nature of the perplexities in which my
uncle Toby was involved, from the many
discourses and interrogations about the
siege' of Namur, where he received his
wound.
I must remind the reader, in case he has
read the history of King William's wars;
-but if he has not,-I then inform him,
that one of the most memorable attacks in
that siege, was that which was made by
the English and Dutch upon the point of
the advanced counter-scarp, between the
gate of St. Nicholas, which inclosed the
great sluice or water-stop, where the English were terribly exposed to the shot of
the counter-guard and demi-bastion of St,
Roch: the issue of which. hot dispute, in
three words, was this: That the Dutch
lodged themselves upon the counter-guard,
-and that the English made themselves
masters of the covered way before St. Nicholas-gate, notwithstanding the gallantry of
the French officers, who exposed themselves
upon the glacis sword in hand.
As this'was the principal attack of which
my uncle Toby was an eye-witness at Namtur, —-the army of the besiegers'being
cut off, by the confluence of the Maes and
Sambres, from seeing much of each other's
operations, —my uncle Toby was generally more-eloquent and particular in his
account of it; and the many perplexities
ne was in, arose out of the almost insurmountable difficulties he found in telling his
story intelligibly, and giving such clear
ideas of the differences and distinctions between the, scarp and counter-scarp,-the


glacis and) covered way, —the half-moon
and ravelin,-as to make, his company
fully comprehend where and what he was
about
Writers themselves are too apt to confound these terms,; so that you will the less
wonder, if in' his endeavors to explain them,
and in opposition to many misconceptions,
that my uncle Toby did oft-times puzzle his
visitors, and sometimes'himself too.
To speak the truth, unless the company
my father led up-stairs were tolerably clearheaded, or my uncle Toby was in one of his
explanatory moods,'twas a difficult thing,
do what he could,-to keep the discourse free
from obscurity.'What rendered the account of this affair
the more intricate to my uncle Toby was
this,-that in the attack of the counterscarp,
before the gate of St. Nicholas, extending
itself from the'bank of the Maes quite
up the great water-stop, —the ground was
cut and cross-cut with suich a multitude of
dykes, drains, rivulets, and sluices, on all
sides,-and he would get sd sadly bewildered, and set fast amongst them, that frequently he could neither get backwards nor
forwards to save his life;and was oft-times
obliged to give up the.attack upon that very
account only.
These' perplexing rebuffs gave my uncle
Toby Shandy more perturbations than yot
would imagine; and as my father's kindness to him' was continually dragging up
fresh friends and fresh inquirers,-.. —-he had
but a very uneasy task of it.
No' doubt, my uncle Toby had great corn
mand of himself, —and could guard appearances, I believe, as well as most men, -
yet, any one may imagine, that when ie
could not-retreat out of the ravelin witholt




40
getting into the half-moon, (
the covered way without falli
counter-scarp, nor cross the
danger, of slipping into the d
he'must have fretted and fum
-He did so;-and the little
vexations, which. may se-em t
no account to the man who
Hippocrates;- yet, whoever h
pocrates, or-Dr. James Macke
considered well the effects w
sions and affections of the mi
the digestion-r(Why not of
well as of a dinner?) —may ei
what sharp paroxysms and ex;
his wound -my uncle Toby m
dergone: upon that score only.
-My uncle Toby could no
upon it;-'twas enough he fel
and having sustained:the pain
of it' for three months:toge
resolved, some' -way or: other
nimself.
He was one morning lying
in his bed, the- anguish and ]
wound upon his groin sufferir
in no other position, when a 1
into his head, that if he could 
a thing, and. have it pasted e
board, as a large map of the fi
the town and citadel, of, Na
environs, it might be a means
ease.-I take notice of his d
the environs along with the tb
del, for this reason,-because
by's wound was:got in one of
about thirty toises from the re
of the trench, opposite to the
of the demi-bastion of St. Roo]
he was pretty confident.he coi
Upon the identical spot of groi
was standing when the stone
All this succeeded to his wi
only freed him from a world- o
tions; but, in the end, it prov
means, as you will read, of 
uncle Toby his HOBBY-HjRSE
CHAP. "IL
THERE is nothing. so fooli
are at the expense of -making
mnent of this kind. as to ord


LIFE AND OPINIONS
or get out of badly, as to let- your critics and gentry or
ing down the refined taste run it down: nor is there any
dyke without thing so likely to make them do it, as that
litch, but that of leaving them out of the party, or, what
led inwardly: is full as offensive,. of bestowing your,ate and hourly tention upon the rest of your guests in so
rifling and of particular:waLy as'if there was no such
has not read thing as a critic (by occupation) at table.
ias read' Hip-.  -- I gpard against both; for, in the
mnzie, and has first place, I have left half a dozen places
rhich the pas- purposely open for them;-and in the next
nd have upon placei I pay them all court.-Gentlemen, I' awound -as kiss, your hands. I protest, no company
asily conceive could give me half the pleasure;-by my
acerbations of soul, I am glad to see; you.-;  beg only
lust have un- yu will rmake no strangers of yourselves,
but sit ddwn, without ceremony, and fall
t philosophize on heartily.
it it was so:-,  I saidI had left six'places, and I was on
I and sorrows the point of carrying my'complaisance so
(ther, he' was far as to. have left a seventh open for them,,. to extricate -and in this very: spot I stand on; but
being told by a critic (though- not by ocuupon his back pation —but by nature) that I had acquitted
nature of the myself well enough, I shall fill it up directig,him to lie ly, hoping, in the mean time, that I shall
thought- ame be able to make a;great- deal -of more room
purchase such next year.
down upon a   ----.  How, oin the name of wonder!
brtification of could' your uncle Toby, who, it seems,' was
rhiur, with its a military man, and whom you have repreof giving him sented as no fbbl, — be at:the- same time
esire to have such a confused, puddifig-headed, muddleown and cita- headed fellow, as —o -look.
my uncle To-   So, Sir Critic, I could have replied; but
the traverses, I scornn it. —'Tis laiguage uriurbane, —and
turning angle only befitting the man who cannot give
salient angle clear and satisfactory accounts of things, or
h — so that dive deep enough into the: first causes of
ild stick apin human ignorance arid confusion.  It is
and where he moreover the reply valiant,-and- therefore
struck him.  ~I reject it; for thoughi it might havre suited
ishes; and not my -uncle Tobys. -character as a soldier. exsad: explana- cellently well, —and had he accustomed
ed the happy hinself, in such attacks,' to whistle the Lilprocuring my libullero,* as he waited no courage,'tis the


sh, when you
an: entertainler things so


* MY UNCLE TOBY'S WHISTLE,
-LiLfIB ULEARO.
The Ballad * tothis ttine was written in the yeas
1686, on account of King James II: nominating to the
Lieutenancy of Ireland General Talbot, newly created
Earl of Tyrcon'nel, a furiotts Papist,'who had recommended- himself to his bigoted master by his arbitrary
* See Percy's Reliques of Ancient English Poetry, vol. ii, page 35




OF TRISTRAM SHAGNDY


41


rery answer he would have given; yet it made by the objects, when the said organs
would by no means have done for me.- You are not dull: and, Thiidly, A memory like
see as plain as can be, thlat I write as a man unto a sieve; not able to retain what it has
of erudition;-that even my similies,   r my received.-Call down Dolly your chamberallusions, my illustrations, my metaphors, maid, and-I will give you my cap and bell
are erudite,-and'that I must sustain, my along with it, if I make not this matter so
character properly, and contrast it properly plain that Dolly herself should understand
too,-else what would become of me?  - it as well as Malbranch. —-When Dolly
Why, Sir, I should be undone;-at this has indited her epistle to Robin, and has
very moment that I am going' here to fill thrust her arminto the bottom of her pocket
up one place against a critic, —I should hanging by her right side, —take that opporhave made an opening for a couple.      tunity to recollect, that the organs and fac— Therefore I answer thus;-          ulties of perception-can, by nothing-in: this
Pray, Sir, in all thereading which you have world, be so:aptly typified and explained as
ever read, did you; ever read such a book as by that one thing which Dolly's hand is in
Locke's Essay upon the Human Under- search of.-Your organs are not sd dull that
standing — Don't answer me rashly,-     I should inform you,-'tis an inch, Sir, of
because many, I know, quote the book, who red seal-wax.
-have hot read it,-and many have read it   When this, is melted and dropped upon
who understand it not.-If either of these the letter, if Dolly fumbles.too long foi her
is your, case, as I write to instruct, I:will.thimble, till the wax is over-hardened, it
tell you in three words what the' book is.-' will not receive the mark of her thimble
It is a history.-A history! of who? what'. from the usual impulse which was wont to
where' when. Don't hurry yourself,- - imprint it. Very well. If Dolly's wax, for
It is a history-book, Sir, (which may possibly want of better, is bees-wax, or of a temper
recommend it to the world) of what passes too soft,-tho' it may receive,-it will,not
in a man's own nmind; and if you will say hold the impression, howbhard soever Dolly
so much of the book,' and no more, believe thrusts against it: and, last, of all, Suppome, you will cut no contemptible figure in sing the wax good, and eke the thimble,
a metaphysic circle.                    but applied thereto in careless haste, as her
But this by the way.                  mistress rings the bell;-in any one of these
Now if you will venture to go along with three cases, the print left by the thimble
me, and look down into the bottom of this will be as unlike the prototype as a brassmatter, it will be found that the cause of jack.
obscurity and confusion in the mind of a  Now you must understand, that not one of
man,, is threefold.                     thesew-as the true cause of confusion in my
Dull organs, dear Sir, in the first place. uncle Toby's discourse; and it is for that
Secondly, Slight and transient impressions'yery reason I enlarge upon them so long,
-____________________________ - -..after the manner of great' physiologists,treattent of the Protestants in the preceding year,' to show the world what it didnot arise from. 
when only Lieute nant-General and whose subse-  What it did arise from, I have hinted
quent, conduct fully justified hi; expectations. and above; and a fertile source of obscurity it
their fears.... 
This foolish Ballad, treating the Papists and chiefly is,-and ever will be,-,and that is, the untoe Irish, in a very ridiculous manner, had a burden, steady uses of words, which have perplexed
said to be Irish words, "Lero, lero, lillbullero  and the clearest and most exalted understandniade an imnpression on'the (King's) army, more pow-.
erful tlian either the'philippics of Demosthenes or ings.
Cicero. The whole army,'and at last the people both  It is ten to one (at Arthur's) whether
in city and country, were singing it perpetually. Per- you have ever read the literary history of'
haps never had so slight a thing so great an effect; for,.
t' contributed not a little towards thle Revolution in past ages;-if you have, what terrible bat.
1688.*                                  tles, -yclept logomachies, have they occaLILLIBULLERO and BULLEN-.A-LA, are said to have sioned, and perpetuated with so much gall
been the watch-words used among the Irish Papists,-  i. a',        -: ai
in their massacre of the'Protestants-in 1641.   and ink-shed,-that a good-natured mas'
*6annbt read the accountsof "themn without
See'shop Burnets Histy of his own Times; and King'sState  the acco,f lbs,rtsestants in Ireland, 169(I 4to.'tears in  his eyes.




F


A*




42


LIFE AND OPINIONS


Gentle critic! when thou hast weighed
all this, and considered within thyself how
much of thy own knowledge; discourse, and
conversation has been pestered and disorNdered, at one' time or other, by this, and this
only;-what a pudder and racket in Councils about li'a and iw6s-aar; and'in the
Schools of the learned about power and
about spirit;-about essences, and. about
quintessences;-about substances and about
space; - what confusion in greater Theatres from words of little meaning, and as,
indeterminate'a sense' when thou considerest'this, thou wilt not wonder at my uncle.
Toby's perplexities,-thou wilt drop a tear
of pity upon his scarp andhiis counter-scarp;
-his glacis and his covered way; —his
ravelin and his half-moon:'twas not by
ideas,-by Heaven; his life was, put in
jeopardy by words.
CHAP. II.
WHEN my uncle Toby got his map of
Namur to his mind, he began immediately
to a'pply'himself, and with the utmost diligence, to the study of it; for nothing being
of more importance to him than his recovery,
and his recovery depending, as you have
read, upon the passions and affections of his
mind, it behoved him to take the nicest
care to make himself so far master of'his
subject, as to be able to tallk upon it without
emotion.
In a fortnight's close and painful application, which, by the bye, did my uncle Toby's
wound, upon his groin, no good-he..was
enabled by the help of some marginal documents at the feet of the elephant, together
with Gobesius's military architecture and
pyroballogy, translated from the Flemish,
to form his discourse with passable perspicuity;a and before he;was two fill months
gone, -he was right eloquent upon it, and
could make not only the attack of the advanced counterscarp with great order;but having-by that time gone much deeper
into the art than. what his first motive made
necessary, my uncle Toby was able to cross
the Maes and Sambre; make diversions as
tar as Vauban's line, the abbey of Salsines,
&.c. and gave his visitors as distinct a history


of each of their attacks as that of the gate
of St. Nicholas, where he had the honor to
receive his wound.
"But desire of knowledge, like the thirst
of riches, increases ever with the acquisition of it. - The more my uncle Toby pored
over his map, the more he took a liking to
it! —by the same process and electrical assimilation, as I told you,'through which I
ween the souls of connoisseurs themselves,
by long friction and incumbition, have the
happiness, at length, to get all be-virtu'd,
-be-pictured,-be-butterfiied, and be-fiddled.
The more my uncle Toby drank of thiv
sweet fountain of science, the greater was
the heat and impatience of his thirst; so
that before the first year of his confinement
had well gone round, there was scarce a
fortified town in'Italy or Flanders, of which,
by one means or other, he had not, procured
a plan, reading over as. he got them, and
carefully collating'therewith the histories
of'their sieges, their demolitions,' their improvements, and new works, all which he
would read with that intense application
and delight, that he would forget himself,
his wound, his confihement, his dinner.
In the second year, my uncle Toby purchased Ramelli and Cataneo, translated from
the Italian; —likewise Stevinus, Moralis,
the Chevalier de Ville, Lorini, Coehorn,
Sheeter, the Count de Pagan, the Marshal
Vauban, Mons. Blondel, with almost as
many more books of military architecture
as Don Quixote was found to have of chivalry, when the curate and barber invaded
his library.
Towards the beginning of the third year,
which was in August, ninety-nine, my uncle
Toby!found it necessary to understand a
little of projectiles:-and having judged it
best to draw his knowledge from the fountain-head, he began with N. Tartaglia, who
it seems was the first man who detected
the imposition of a cannon-ball's doing all
that mischief under the notion of a right
line.-This,'N. Tartaglia proved, to my
uncle Toby, to be an impossible thing.
--  Endless is the search of Truth'
No sooner was my uncle Toby satisfied
which road the cannon-ball did not go, but
he was insensibly led'on, and resolved in
his mind to inquire and find out which'road




the ball did go: for which 
obliged:to set off afresh wi
and studied him devoutly.next to Galileo and Torric
by certain geometrical rules
down, he found the precis
Parabola,-or else a Hyper
the parameter, or latus rect
section of the said path, was
and amplitude in a direct rat
line to the sine of double th
dence, formed by the breac
zontal plane;-and that the
-- stop! my dear uncle'
— go not one foot farther:
and bewildered track:-inl
steps! intricate are the maw
rinth! intricate are the trot
pursuit of this bewitching I
ledge will bring upon thee
-fly —fly-fly from it as f
— Is it fit  -good-natul
should'st sit up, with the M
groin, whole nights baking
hectic watchings. —-Ala
perate thy symptoms, —che(
tions,-evaporate thy spir
animal strength —dry up th
ture, —bring thee into a c
body,-impair thy health,the infirmities of thy old
uncle! my uncle Toby!


OF TRISTRAM SHANDY.                             43
purpose he was else-'tis not very material whether upon
th old Malthus, any other score the reader approves of it
-He proceeded or not.
ellius, wherein,  In the latter end of the third year, my
3, infallibly laid uncle Toby perceiving that. the parameter
e. path to be a and semi-parameter of the conic section
bola, —and that angered his wound, he left off the'study of
um, of theconic projectiles in a kind of a huff, and betook
to the quantity himself to the practical part of fortification
ti, as the whole only; the, pleasure of which, like a spring
e angle of inci- held back, returned upon him with rech upon a hori- doubled force.
semiparameter,' It was in this year that my uncle began
Toby, —-stop! to break in upon the: daily regularity of a
into this thorny clean shirt,-to dismiss his barber-unshaven,
tricate are the and to allow his surgeon scarce time suffizes of this'laby- cient to dress his wound, concerning himibles which the self so little about it, as not to ask him
phantom Know- once Sin seven times' dressing, how it went.-0 mj uncle, on:'when, lo!-all of a sudden, for the
rom a serpent! change was as quick as lightning, he began
red man! thou to sigh heavily for his recovery,-complainTound upon thy ed to my father, grew impatient with the
thy blood with surgeon:-and one morning, as he heard
3!'twill exas- his foot coming up stairs, he shut up his
ck thy perspira- books, and thrust aside his instruments, in
its-waste thy order to expostulate with him upon the proiy radical'mois- traction of the cure, which, he told him,
ostive habit of might surely have been accomplished at
-and hasten all least by that time. - He dwelt long upon
age.- O my the miseries he had undergone, and the sorrows of his four years' melancholy imprisonment;-adding, that had it not been for
the kind looks and fraternal cheerings of
the best of brothers, —he had long since
sunk under his misfortunes.-My father
for that man's was by.-My uncle' Toby, by nature, was
who Adoes hot not eloquent,-it had the greater effect.the best plain The surgeon was confounded; —ot that;ked very close there wanted grounds for such, or greater
~he to my uncle marksofimpatience,-but'twas unexpected
both cold and too. In the four years he had attended him,
te;-therefore I he had never seen any thing like it in my
chapter, though uncle Toby's carriage; he had' never once
story.        dropped one fretful or discontented word;tamp have one he had been ali patience,-all submission.
linters. Where  -VWe lose the right of complaniing some
ir pictures less times, by forbearing it;-but we often tre
evil; deeming ble the force;-the surgeon was astonish
trespass against ed,; but much more so, when he heard my,o be understood uncle Toby go on, and peremptorily insist
t as it will,-as upon his healing up the wound airectly, —
for the sake of or sending for Monsieur Ronjat, the king'l
than any thing serjeant-surgeon, to do it for him.


CHAP. IV.
I WOULD not give a groat
knowledge in pen-craft,
understand this:.That
narrative in the world, tac
to the last spirited apostrop
Toby —-would have felt
vapid upon the reader's palal
forthwith put an end to the
I was in the middle of my s
Writers of my isl
principle in common with pa
an exact copying makes ou
striking, we choose the less
it even more pardonable to;truth than beauty. This is t
cum grano salis; but be i'
the parallel is made more
setting the apostronhe cool,




44A                         LIFE AND (
The desire of life and health iq implanted f
in man's nature;-.the love of liberty and I
enlargement is a sister-passion to it., These t
my uncle Toby had in common with his 
species;-and either of them had been sufficient to account for his earnest desire to s
get well, and out of doors;-but I have told
you before,, that nothing wrought'with our.a
family after the common way;-and from I
the time and manner in which this eager 
desire showed itself in the present case, f
the penetrating reader will suspect, there i
Was some other cause or crotchet for it in 
nly uncle Toby's head;- There was so, i
and'tis the subject of the n'ext chapter to I
set forth what that'cause and crotchet was. t
I own, when that's done,'twill be time,to 1
return back to the parlor fire-side, where 
we left my uncle Toby in the middle of his -
sentence 


CHAP V.
WHEN a man gives himself up to the 1
government of a ruling passion,,-or, in I
other words, when his HOBBY-HORSE grows 
headstrong, —-farewell cool reason and fair I
discretion.                           1
My uncle Toby's wound was' near well; 1
and as soon as the surgeon recovered his 1
surprise, and could get leave to say as much i
-he told him,'twas just beginning to in- ]
carnate; and that if no fresh. exfoliation 1
happened, which there was no sign of,-it 
would be dried up in five or six weeks. 
The sound of as many Olympiads, twelve ]
hours before, would have conveyed an idea 1
of shorter duration to my uncle Toby's mind.
— The succession of his ideas was now 
rapid,-he broiled with impatience to put <
his -design in execution; —and'so, without'(
consulting farther with any soul living,-'
which, by the bye, I think is -right when 
you are predetermined to take no one soul's ] 
advice, —-he privately ordered Trim, his
man, to pack up a bundle of lint and dress- <
ings, and hire a chariot-and-four, to be at
the door exactly by twelve o'clock that day, 
hlien' he knew my father would be upon;'Change —   So leaving a bank-note upon 
the table for the surgeon's care of him, and 
a'letter of tender thanks for his brother's- 
ie packed up his maps, his books of forti

)PINIONS
ication, his instruments,; c., and by the
lelp of/ a crutch on one side, and' Trim'on
he other,-my uncle Toby embarked for
Shandy-Hall.
The reason, or rather the rise, of this
sudden demigration, was'as follows:
The table in my uncle Toby's room, and
It which, the night before this change hap)ened, he -was sitting with his maps,, 4ic.
ibout him —being somewhat of the smallest,
or\that infinity of gregt-and small instrunents of knowledge.which usually lay
crowded upon it —he had the accident, in
reaching over for his tobacco-box, to throw
lown.his compasses; and il stooping to
Lake. the compasses up, with his sleeve
he threw down his case of instruments
tnd snuffers;-and as the dice took a run
against him, in his endeavoring to catch
the snuffers in falling, —he thrust Monsieur
Blondel off the table, and' Count de Pagan
)'top of him.'Twas to no purpose for a man, lame as
ny uncle Toby was, to'.think of redressing
these evils by himself, —he rung. his bell for
his man Trim, -   Trim,' quoth my uncle
roby,: prithee:see what confusion I have
here been making —I must have some better contrivance, Trim. —  Canst not thou
take my rule, and measure the length and
breadth of this table, and then go and be.
speak me one' as big again?,. —-Y es, an
please your Honor, replied Trim, making a
bow; but I: hope your Honor will be soon
well enough to get down to your countryseat, where,-as your Honor takes so much
pleasure in fortification, we could manage
this matter to a T.
I must here'inform you, that this servant
of my uncle Toby's, who went by the name
of Trim, had been a corporal in my uncle's
own company,-his real name was James
Butler;-but having got. the nickname of
Trim,.in the regiment,my;uncle Toby,'unless when he.happened to be very angry
with him, would never call him by any
other name.'The poor fellow had been disabled for the
service, by a wound. on his left knee, by a
musket bullet, at the battle of Landen,
which was two years before the affair of
Namur;-and as the fellow was well-beloved in-the( regiment, and a handy fellow
into the bargain, my uncle Toby took him




IOF TRISTRAM SH- $IANDY.


45


tor his servant: and of an excellent use that these ravelins, bastions, curtains, and.
was he, attending my uncle Toby in the horn-works, make but a poor, contemrptible,
camp and in his quarters, as a valet, groom, fiddle-faddle piece of wo-k of it here upon
barber, cook, sempster,: and nursed; and in- paper, compared to what your IHonor and I
deed, from first tn last, waited upon him, and could make of it were we in the country
served him with great fidelity and affection. by ourselves, and had but a rood, or a rood
My uncle Toby loved the man in return: and a half of ground, to do what-we pleased
and what attached him more to him'still, with: as summer is coming. on, continued
was the similltude:of their knowledge; — Trim, your Honor might sit out of doors,
for Corporal Trim (for so, for the future, I and give me the nography-(Call it ichnoshall call him) by four' years' occasional at- graphy; quoth my uncle)-of the town or
tention to his Master's discourse upon for- citadel your Honor was pleased to sit down
tified towns, and the advantage of prying before, and I'll be shot by your Honor upon
and peeping continually into his Mister's the glacis of it, if I did not fortify it to your
planr, c.c. exclusive and besides what he Honor's mind. —I dare say thou would'st,
gained HoBBY-HoRsIcALLY, as a body-ser- Trim, quoth my uncle.-For if your Honor,
vant, Non Hobby-Horsical per se;-had be- continued the corporal, could but mark ime
come no mean proficient in the science; the polygon, with its exact lines and angles
and was thought, by the cook and chamber- -(That I could- do very well, quoth my
maid, to know as much of the nature'of unle)-I would begin with the fosse; and
strong-holds as my uncle Toby himself.  if your Honor: could' tell me the proper
I have but one more stroke to give to depth and breadth-(I can, to a hair's
finish Corporal Trim's character,-and it is breadth, Trim, replied my uncle)-I would
the only dark line in it.-The fellow loved throw out the earth upon this hand towards
to advise,- or'rather to hear himself talk: the town for the scarp,-and -on that hand
his carriage, however, was so perfectly re- towards the campaign for the counter-scarp
spectful,'twas easy to keep him silent when -(Very right, Trim, quoth my uncle Toby)
you had him so; but set his tongue a-going, -'and when I had'sloped them to your
-you had no hold of him'-he was voluble; mind,-an' please your Honor, I would face
-the eternal interlardings -of your Honor, the glacis, as the finest fortifications are
with the respectfulness of- Corporal Trim's done in Flanders, with sods,-(and as' your
manner, interceding so strong in behalf of Honor knows they should be)-and I would
his elocution, —that though' yon might have make the walls -and parapets of stds too.
been incommoded, —you could not well be  -The' best engineers'call them Gazons,
angry. -My uncle Tobv was seldom either Trim,' said my uncle Toby.-' Whethe'r
the one or thb' other with him.-or, at least, they are gazons or sods, is not much matthis- fault in Trimn broke no sauares with ter, replied Trim; your Honor'knows they
them.- My uncle Toby, as I said, loved the are' ten times'-beyond a facing either of
mnan;' —and besides, as he ever looked upon brick or stone.-I khow they are, Trim,
a faithful servant as an humble friend,-he in some respectsj-quoth my uncle Toby,
could not bear to stop his mouth.-Such nodding his head:- for a cainnon-ball enters
was Corporal Trim.                     into the gazon right onwards, without
If I durst presume, continued Trim, to bringing any rubbish down with it, which
give your Honor- my advice, and speak my might fill the foss6 (as: was the case at' St.
opinion in this matter-Thou artwelcome, Nicholas's gate) and' facilitate the passage
Trim, quoth my uncle Toby-    speak,- over it.
speak what'thou thinkest upon the' sub-  Your Honor:7understands these matters'
ject,'man, ithout fear.-Why then, replied replied Corporal Trim, better'thanany offiTrim (not hanging his ears and scratching cer in his Majesty's service; —-but would
his head like a country lout, but) stroking your Honor please to let the bespeaking ol
his hair'back'from his forehead, and stand- the table alone, and let' us but go into the
ing erect as before his division,-I. think, country, I'would work under your Honor's
quoth Corporal Trim, with humble submis- directions like a horse, and make fortifica.
sion to your Honor's better judgment,- tions for you something like a tansy, with a.




46


LIFE AND OPINIONS


their batteries, saps, ditches, and palisadoes,
that it should be worth all the world's
riding twenty miles to go and see it.
My uncle Toby blushed as red as scarlet
as Trim went on;-but it was not a blush
of guilt,-of modesty,-or ofanger,-it was
a blush of joy;-he was fired with Corporal
Trim's project and description; —Trim!
said my uncle Toby, thou hast said enough.
-We might begin the campaign, continued
Trim, on the very day that his Majesty and
the Allies take the field, and demolish them,
town by town, as fast as-Trim, quoth my
uncle Toby, say no more. Your Honor,
continued Trim, might sit in your armchair (pointing to it) this fine weather, giving me your orders, and I would — Say
no more, Trim, quoth my uncle Toby —
Besides, your Honor would get not only
pleasure and good pastime,-but good air,
and good exercise, and'good health;-and
your Honor's wound would be well in a
month. -Thou hast said enough, Trim;
quoth my uncle Toby (putting his hand
into his breeches' pocket)-I like thy project mightily.-And if your Honor pleases,
I'll this moment go and buy a pioneer's
spade to take down with us; and I'll bespeak a shovel and a pick-ax, and a couple
of-Say no more, Trim, quoth my uncle
Toby, leaping up upon one leg,, quite overcome with rapture,-and thrusting a guinea
into Trim's hahd,-Trim, said my uncle
Toby, say no more;-but go down, Trim,
this moment, my lad, and bring up my supper this instant.
Trim ran down and brought up his master's supper,-to no purpose:-Trim's
plan of operation ran so in my uncle Toby's
head, he could not taste it. —Trim, quoth
my uncle Toby, get me to bed.-'Twas all
one.-Corporal Trim's description had fired
his imagination; my uncle Toby could not
shut his eyes.-The more he considered it,
the. more bewitching the scene appeared to
him;-so that, two full hours before daylight, he had come to a final' determination,
and had concerted the whole plai of his
and Corporal Trim's decampment.
My uncle Toby had a little neat countryhouse of his own, in the village where my
Cather's estate lay at Shandy, which had
neen left him by an old uncle, with a small
eatate of about one hundred pounds a-year.




Behind this house, and contiguous to it,
was a kitchen-garden of about half-an acre;
and at the bottom of the garden, and cut
off from it by a tall yew-hedge, was a bowling-green, containing just about' as much
ground as Corporal Trim wished for;-so
that as Trim uttered the words, "A rood
"and a half of ground'to do what they would
"with," this identical bowling-green instantly presented itself, and became curiously painted, all at once, upon the retina
of my uncle Toby's fancy;-which was the
physical cause of making him change color,
or at least of heightening his blush to that
immoderate degree I spoke-of.
Never did lover post down to a beloved
mistress with more heat and expectation
than-my uncle Toby did, to enjoy the selfsame thing in private;-I say in private;for it was sheltered from the house, as I
told you, by a tall yew-hedge,,and was covered on the other three sides, from morta.
sight, by rough holly and thick-set flowering. shrubs:-.so that the idea of not being
seen, did not a little contribute to the idea
of pleasure preconceived in my uncle Toby's
mind.-Vain thought! however thick it
was planted about,-or private soever it
might seem,-to think, dear uncle Toby, of
enjoying a thing which took up a whole
rood and a half of ground,-and not have it
known!
How my uncle Toby and Corporal Trim'
managed this'matter, —with the history of
their campaigns, which were no way barren
of events,-may make no uninteresting underplot in the epitasis and working up of
this drama. —At present the scene must
drop, and change for the parlor fire-side.
CHAP. VI.
--  WHAT can, they be doing, brother 
said my father. —  I think, replied my uncle Toby,-taking, as I told you, the pipe
from his mouth,-and'striking the ashes out
of it as he began his sentence;-  I think,
replied he,-it would not be amiss, brother,
if we rang the bell.
Pray, what's all that racket over our
heads, Obadiah?-quoth.my father;-my
brother and I can scarce hear ourselves
speak.




OF TRISTRAM SHANDY.


4


Sir, answered Obadiah, making a bow
towards his reft shoulder,-my Mistress is
taken very badly.-And where's Susannah
running, down the- garden there, as if they
were going to ravish her -  Sir, she is
running the shortest cut into the town, replied Obadiah, to fetch the old midwife.Then saddle a horse, quoth my father, and
do you go directly for Dr. Slop, the manmidwife, with all our services,-and let him
Know your mistress is fallen into laborand that I desire he will return with you
with all speed.
It is, very. strange, says my father, adIressing himself to my uncle Toby, as
Obadiah shut the door,-'as there is so expert an operator as Dr. Slop so near,-that
my wife should persist, to the very last in
this obstinate humor of hers, in trusting the
life of my child, who has had one misfortune
already, to the ignorance of an old woman!
-and not only the life of my child, brother,
— but her own life, and with it the lives of
all the children I might, peradventure, have
begot out of her hereafter.
Mayhap, brother, replied my uncle Toby,
my sister does it to save the expense. —A
pudding's end,-replied my father;-the
Doctor must be paid the same for inaction
as action,-if not better,-to keep him in
temper.
— Then it can be out of nothing in the
whole world, quoth my uncle Toby, in the
simplicity of his heart,-but Modesty.-My
sister, I dare say, added he, does not care to
let a man come so near her —. I will not
say whether my uncle Toby had completed
the sentence or not;-'tis for his advantage
to.suppose he had,-as, I think, he could
have added no ONE WORD which would have
improved it.
If, on the contrary, my uncle Toby had
not fully arrived at the period's end,-then
the world stands indebted to the sudden
snapping of my father's tobacco-pipe for one
of the neatest examples of that ornamental
figure in' oratory, which rhetoricians style
the Aposiopesis.    Just Heaven! how
does the.Poco piu and Poco meno of the
Italian artists;-the insensible MORE or
LESS, determine the precise line of beauty
in the sentence, as well as in the statue!
EHow do the slight touches of the chisel,
the pencil, the pen, mne fiddle-stick, et


cetera, —give the true swell, which gives
the true pleasure!-O my countrymen,be J.ice:-be cautious of your language,and never, O! never let it be forgotten upon
what small particles your eloquence and
yo-r fame depend.
-    " My sister, mayhap," luoth my
uncle Toby, "does not choose do let a man' come so near her-." Make this dash,
-, -'tis an Aposiopesis;-take the dash
away, and write BACKSIDE, —'tis bawdy;
-scratch Backside out, and put COVER'RD
WAY in,'tis a metaphor;-and, Is dare say,
as fortification ran so much in my uncle
Toby's head, that if it had been left to have
added one word to the sentence,-that word
was it.
But whether that was the case, or not
the case;-or whether the snapping of my
father's tobacco-pipe, so critically, happened
through accident or anger, will be seen in
due time.


CHAP. VII.


THOUGH my father was;a good'natural
philosopher,-yet he was something of a
moral philosopher too; for wliich reason,
when his tobacco-pipe snapp'd short in the
middle',-he had nothing to do, as such, but
to have taken hold of the two pieces, and
thrown them gently upon the back of the
fire.'  He did no such thing;'he threw
them with all the violence in the world;and, to give the action still more emphasis,
-he started upon both legs to do'it.
This looked something like heat; —and
the manner of his sreply to what my uncle
Toby was saying, proved it was so.
-" Not choose," quoth my father (repeating my uncle Toby's words) "to let a
"man come so near her!" — By Heaven,
brother Toby! you would try the patience of
Job; and I think I have the plagues of one
lready without it.-Why — Where 1Wherein?-Wherefore??-    Upon what
account! replied my uncle Toby, in the
utmost astonishment. —To think, said my
father; of a man living to yourage, brother,
and knowing so little about women!  I
know nothing at all about them,-replieo
my uncle Toby: and I think, continued ueu




IS' LIFE AND OPINIONS
that the shock I received the year after the dissertation as ever was engendered in the
demolition of Dunkirk, in my affair with womb of speculation: —it was some months
Widow Wadman -which shock, you know, before my father could get an opportunity
I should not have received, but from my to be safely delivered of it:-and, at this
total ignorance of the sex,-has given me hour, it is a thing full as problematical as
just cause to say, that I neither know, nor the subject of the dissertation itself,-(condo pretend to know, any thing about'em, sidering the confusion and distress of our
or their concerns either. -- Methinks, domestic misadventures, which are now
brother, replied my father, you might, at coming thick, one upon the back of another)
least, know so muchias the right'end'of a whether I shall be able to find a place for
woman' from.the wrong.               it in the third volume or not.
It is said in Aristotle's Master-Piece,
" That when a man doth think ofany thing 
"( which is past,-he looketh down upon the
"ground;-but that when he thinketh ofCHAP VIII
"something that. is to come, he looketh up
"towards the heavens."                 IT is about an hour and a half's tolerable
My uncle Toby, I suppose, thought of good reading since my uncle Toby rung the
neither, for he looked horizontally.-Right bell, when Obadiah was ordered to saddle a
end! quoth my uncle Toby, muttering the horse,.and go for Dr. Slop, the man-midtwo words low to himself, and fixing his wife;-so that no oniecan say, with reason,
two eyes insensibly as he muttered them, that. I have not allowed Obadiah time
upon a small crevice, formed by a bad joint enough, poetically speaking, and considerin the chimney-piece —Right end of a ing the emergency too, both to go and come;
woman!-I declare, quoth -my uncle, I -though, morally and truly speaking, the
know no more which it' is than the man in man perhaps has scarce had time to get on
the moon;-and if I was to think, continued his boots.
my uncle Toby (keeping his eyes still   If the hypercritic will go upon this; and
fixed upon the bad joint) this month' to- is resolved after all to take a pendulum, and
gether, I am sure I should'not be able to measure the true distance betwixt the rin'gfind it out.                         ing of the bell and the rap at the door; and,
Then, brother Toby, replied my father, I after findin itto be no more than two minwill tell you.                        utes, thirteen seconds, and three-fifths,Every thing in the world, continued my should take upon him to insult over me for
father (filling a fresh pipe)-every thing.in such a breach in the unity, or rather probathe world, my dear brother Toby, has two bility of time, —I would remind him, that
handles:-  Not always, quoth my uncle the idea of' duration, and of its simple
Toby. —  At least, replied myfather, every modes, is got merely from the train and.one has two hands,-which comes to the succession of our ideas-and is the true
same thing. —Now, if a man was to sit scholastic pendulum,-and by which, as a
down coolly, and consider within himself scholar, I will be tried in this matter,-abthe make, the shape, the construction, juring and detesting the jurisdiction of all
come-atability and convenience of all the other pendulums whatever.
parts which constitute the whole of that  I would therefore desire him to consider,
animal, called Woman, arid compare them tat it is but poor eight miles from Shandy
analogically, — I never understood rightly hall to Dr. Slop the man-midwife's house:the meaning of that word,-quoth my uncle and that whilst Obadiah has been going
Toby -                                those said miles and back, I have brought
ANALOGY, replied my father, is the cer- my uncle Toby from Namur, quite across
tain relation and agreement which different all Flanders, into. England;-that I have
— Here a devil of a rap at the door snap-' had him ill upon my hands near four years.
Ired my father's'definiition (like his tobacco- -and have since travelled him and Corpo.
p pe) in two, —and, at the same time, crush- ral Trim, in a chariot-and-four, a journe,
ng thi- head o' as notable and curious a of near two hundred miles down into York




OF TRISTIIRAM SHANDY.,


49


sh   --; —all which put together must have full gallop, and making all practicable speed
prepared the reader's imagination for the the adverse way.
entrance of Dr. Slop upon the stage,-as  Pray, Sir, let me interest you a moment
much, at least (I hope) as a dance, a song, in this description.
or a concerto between the acts.:     Had Dr. Slop beheld Obadiah a mile off,
If my hypercritic is untractable, alleging posting in a narrow lane directly towards
that two minutes and thirteen. secondsare him, at that monstrous rate, splashing and
no more than two minutes and thirteen sec- plunging like a devil th h thick and
onds,-when I,have said all I can about thin, as he approached; would not such a
ethem; and that this -plea, though it might phenomenon, with such a vortex of mud
save me dramatically, will damn me bio- and water moving along with it,: round its
graphically, rendering my book, from this axis,-have been a subject of juster apprevery moment, a professed Romance, which, hension to Dr. Slop in his situation, than
before, was a book, apocryphal:-If I' am the worst of Whiston's comets?-To say
thus pressed,-I then put. an end to. the nothing of the Nucleus; that is, of Obadiah
whole objection and controversy:about itall and the coach-horse. —In my idea, the vorat once,-by acquainting him, that Oba- tex alone'of'em was enough to have indihah had. not got above. threescmore yards volved and carried, if not the doctor, at
fromn the stable-yard, before he met with least the. doctor's pony, quite away with it.
Dr. Slop:-and indeed he gave a dirty What then do you think must the terror
proof that he had met with him, and was and hydrophobia of Dr. Slop have been,
within an ace. of giving a tragical one too. when you read (which you are just' going
Imagine to yourself - But/this had bet- to do) that he was advancing thus- warily
ter begin a new chapter.               along towards Shandy-hall, and had alp
proached to within sixty yards of it, and
within five yards of a sudden turn, made,by an acute-angle of the garden-wall,-and
CHAP. IX.                in the dirtiest part of a dirty lane, —when
Obadiah and his coach-horse turned,. the
IMAGINE to yourself a little squat, -un- corner, rapid, furious,-pop,-full upon
co(~rtly figure of a Doctor Slop, of about him! —Nothing, I think, -in nature, can be
four feet -and a half perpendicular height, supposed more: terrible than such a renwith a breadth of back, and a sesquipedality counter,- so imprompt! so ill prepared' to
of belly, which might have done honor to stand the shock of it as Dr. Slop was.
a serjeant in the horse-guards.          What could Dr. Slop do?-he crossed
Such were the outlines of Dr. Slop's himself+-Pugh!-but thedoctor, Sir, was
figure; which-if you have read Hogarth's a Papist. —No matter; he had better have
Analysis of Beauty,-and if you have not, kept hold of the pummel.-le had soI wish you would, —-you must know, nay, as it happened, he had better have
may. as certainly be caricatured and con- - done nothing at all; for in crossing himself
veyed to the mind by three strokes as three' he let go his whip; and in attempting to
4hiundred.                             save his whip betwixt his knee and his
Imagine such a one;-for such, I say, saddle's skirt, as it slipped, he lost his stirwere the outlines of Dr. Slop's. figure,' rup,-in losing which he lost his seat; and
coming slowly along, foot by foot, waddling, in the multitude of all these losses (which,
through the dirt upon the ve'tebrw v'of al by the bye, shows what little advantage is
little diminutive pony, of a pretty color — in' crossing) the unfortunate doctor lost his
but of strength,-alack! scarce able to have presence of mind. Softhat without waiting
made an amble of it, under such a fardel, for Obadiah's onset, he left his pony to its
had the roads been in an ambling condi- destiny, tumbling off it diagonally, soime
tion.-They were not.       Imagine to thing in the style and manner of a pack oA
yourself, Obadiah mounted upon' a strong wool, and without any other consequence
monster of a coach-horse, pricked into -a from the fall save tha -of- being left (as.im
G                                   5




50


]LIFE, AND: OPIN.IONS


would have been) with the broadest part of "might not care to let such a Dr. Slop
him sunk about twelve inches deep in the "come so near her —." But it was the
mire.                                  argumentum ad hominem; and if my uncle
Obadiah pull'd off his cap twice to Dr. Toby was not- very expert at it, you may
Slop;-once as he was falling,-and then think, he might not care to use it — No;
again whenhe saw lim seated.-Ill-timed the reason was,-'twas not his nature to
complaisance!-had not the fellow better insult.
have stopped his horse, and got off and  Dr. Slop's presence at that time was no
help'd him?-Sir, he did all that his situa- less problematical than the mode of it; tho'
tion would allow: —but the momentum of it is certain, one moment's reflection in my
the coach-horse was so great, that Obadiah father might have solved it; for he had apcould not do it all at once; he rode in a cir- prized Dr. Slop but- the week before, that
cle three times round Dr. Slop, before he my mother was at her full reckoning; and
Could fully accomplish it any how;-and at as the doctor had heard nothing since,'twas
the last, when he did stop his beast,'twas natural and very political too, in him, to
done with such an explosion of mud, that have taken a ride to Shandy-hall, as he did,
Obadiah had better have been a league off. merely to see'how matters went on.
In short, never was a Dr. Slop so beluted,  But my father's mind took unfortunately'and so transubstantiated, since that affair a wrong turn in the investigation; running,
came into fashion.                    like the hypercritic's, altogether upon the
ringing'of the bell and the rap upon the
door,-measuring'their distance, and keeping his mind so intent upon the operation
CHAP. X.                 as to have power to think of nothing.else,
--  commonplace infirmity of the greatest
WHEN Dr. Slop entered the back parlor, mathematicians! working with might and'where my father and my uncle Toby were main at the demonstration, and so wasting
discoursing upon the nature of women,-it all their strength upon it, that they have
was hard to determine whether Dr. Slop's none left in them to draw the corollary to
figure, or Dr. Slop's presence, occasioned do good with.
more surprise to them; for as the accident  The ringing of the bell, and the rap upon
happened so near the house, as not to make the door, struck likewise strong upon the
it worth while for Obadiah to remount him, sensorium of my uncle Toby;-but it -ex.
-.Obadiah had led him in as he was; cited a very different train of thoughts;unwiped, unappointed, unannealed, with the two irreconcilable pulsations instantly'all his stains and' blotches on him.-He brought Stevinus, the great engineer, along
stood like Hamlet's ghost, motionless and with them, into my uncle Toby's mind.
speechless, for a full minute and a. half at What business Stevinus had in this affair,
the parlor-door (Obadiah still holding his -is the greatest problem of all:  It shall
hand) with all the majesty of mud;-his be solved;-but not in the next chapter.
~~~~~~~~. _.........1......


hinder parts, upon which he had received
his -fall, totally besmeared;-and in every
other part of him, blotched over in such a
manner with Obadiah's explosion, that you
would have sworn (without mental reservation) that every grain of it had taken effect.
Here was a fair opportunity for my uncle
Toby to have triumphed over my father in
nis turn; —for no mortal, who had beheld
Dr. Slop in that pickle, could have dissentid from so much, at least, of my uncle'oby'b opinior, 4"That mayhap his sister


CHAP. XI.
WRITING, when properly managed (as
you may be sure I think mine is) is but a
different name for conversation. As no one
who knows what he is about in good company, would venture to talk all;-so no author who understands the just boundaries
of decorum and good-breeding, would presume to think all: the truest respect which




OF TRISTRAM SHANDY.


51


you can pay to the reader's understanding,
is to halve this matter amicably, and leave
him something to imagine, in his turn, as
well as yourself.
For my own part, I am eternally paying
him compliments of this kind, and do all
that lies in my power to keep his imagination as busy as my own.'Tis his turn now!-I have given an
ample description of Dr. Slop's sad.overthrow, and of his sad appearance in. the
back parlor;-his imagination must now go
on with it for a while.
Let the reader imagine then, that Dr.
Slop has to!d his tale,-and in what words,
and with what aggravations, his fancy
chooses;-let him suppose, that Obadiah
has told his tale also, and with such rueful
looks of affected concern, as he thinks best
will contrast the two'figures as they stand
by each other.-Let him imagine, that
my father has stepped up stairs to see
my mother;-and, to conclude this work of
imagination,-let him imagine the doctor
washed,-rubbed down and condoled.-felicitated,-got into a pair of Obadiah's
pumps, stepping forwards towards the door,
upon the very point of entering upon action.
Truce!-truce, good Dr. Slop!-stay thy
obstetric hand;-return it safe unto thy
bosom to keep it warm;-little dost thou
know what obstacles,-  little dost thou
think what hidden causes, retard its operation; —-Hast thou, Dr. Slop,-hast thou
been intrusted with the secret articles of
the solemn treaty which has brought thee
into this place?-Art thou aware that at this
instant a daughter of Lucina is put obstetrically over thy head? Alas!-'tis too true.
-Besides, great son of Pilumnus! what canst
thou do? Thou hast come forth unarm'd;
-thou hast left thy tire-tete,-thy new-invented forceps,-thy crotchet,-thy squirt,
and all thy instruments of salvation and deliverance behind thee:-by Heaven! at
this moment they are hanging up in a
green baize bag, betwixt thy two pistols,
at the bed's head!-Ring;-call; —send
Obadiah back upon the coach-horse to bring
them with all speed.
— Make great haste, Obadiah, quoth
my fatner, and I'll give thee a crown!and, quoth my uncle Toby, I'll give him
another!


0
11


CHAP. XII.




YOUR sudden and unexpected arrival,
quoth my uncle Toby, addressing himself
to Dr. Slop (all three of them sitting down
to the fire together, as mny uncle Toby began
to speak)-instantly brought the great Stevinus into my head, who, you must know, is
a favorite author with me. Then, added my
father, making use of'the argument ad
crrumenam,-I will lay twenty guineas to
a single crown piece (which will' serve
to give away to Obadiah when he gets back)
that this same Stevinus.was some engineer
or other,-or has wrote something or other,
either directly or indirectly, upon the science of fortification.
He has so,-replied my uncle Toby.-I
knew it, said my father, though, for the soul
of me, I cannot see what kind of connexion
there can be betwixt Dr. Slop's sudden
coming, and a discourse upon fortification;
-yet I fear'd it.-Talk of what we will,
brother,-or let the occasion be ever so
foreign or'unfit for the subject,-you are
sure to bring it in. I would not, brother
Toby, continued my father,-I declare I
would not have my head so full of curtains
and horn-works.-That I dare say you would
not, quoth Dr. Slop, interrupting him, and
laughing most immoderately at his pun.
Dennis the critic could not detest and
abhor a pun, or the insinuation of a pun,
more cordially than my father; —he would
grow testy upon it at any time:-but to be
broke in upon by one, in a serious discourse,
was as bad, he would say, as a fillip upon
the nose:-he saw no difference.
Sir, quoth my uncle Toby, addressing
himself to Dr. Slop, —the curtains my brother Shandy mentions here, have nothing
to do with bedsteads;-though, I know Du
Cange says, "That bed-curtains, in all
"probability, have taken their name from
"them;"-nor have the horn-works he speaks
of, any thing in the world to do with the hornworks of cuckoldom: but the curtain, Sin.
is the word we use in fortification, for that
part of the wall or rampart which lies between the two bastions, and joins them.Besiegers seldom offer to carry on their at
tacks directly against the curtain, for this
reason, because they are so well flanked
('Tis the case of other curtains. quoth D



52


LIFE AND OPINIONS


Slop, laughing.) However, continued my
uncle Toby, to make them sure, he generally chose to place ravelins before them,
taking care not only to extend them beyond
the fosse, or ditch.- The common men,
who know very little of fortification, confound the ravelin and the half-moon together,-tho' they are very different things;
-not in their figure or construction, for we
make them exactly alike, in all points; for
they always consist of two faces, making-a
salient angle, with the gorges not straight,
but in form of a crescent.-  Where then
lies the difference? (quoth my father, a little
testily.)-In their situations, answered my
uncle Toby:-for when a ravelin, brother,
stands before the curtain, it is a ravelin;
and when a ravelin stands before a bastion,
then the ravelin is not a ravelin;-it is a
half-moon; a half-moon likewise is a halfmoon, and no more, so long as it stands
before its bastion;-but was it to change
place, and get before the curtain,-'twould
be no longer a half-moon; a half-moon, in
that case, is not a half-moon;-'tis no
more than a ravelin.- I think, quoth my
father, that the noble science of defence has
its weak sides —as well as others.
-As for the horn-work (heigh! ho!
sigh'd my father) which, continued my uncle
Toby, my brother was speaking of, they are
a very considerable part of an outwork;they are called by the French engineers
Ouvrage d corne; and we generally make
them to cover such places as we suspect
to be weaker than the rest;-'tis formed by
two epaulments or demi-bastions, —they are
very pretty, —and if you will take a walk,
I'll engage to show you one well worth
your trouble. I own, continued my uncle
Toby, when we crown them,-they are
much stronger; but then they are very
expensive, and take up a great deal of
ground;'so that, in my opinion, they are
most of use to cover or defend the head of
a camp; otherwise the double tenaille.By the mother who bore us!-brother-Toby,
quoth my father, not able to hold out any
longer,-you would provoke a saint;-here
have you got us, I know not how, not only
Seuse into the middle of the old subject
again,-but, so full is your head of these
confounded works, that though my wife is'Iis mmlnen; in the pains of labor, and you




hear her cry out, yet nothing will serve
you but to carry off the man-midwife —
Accoucheur,-if you please, quoth Dr. Slop.
--  With all my heart, replied my father,
I don't care what they call you;-but I
wish the whole science of fortification, with
all its inventors, at the Devil;-it has been
the death of thousands,-and it will be mine
in the end.-I would not, I would not, brother Toby, have my brains so full of saps,
mines, blinds, gabions, palisadoes, ravelins,
half-moons, and such trumpery, to be proprietor of Namur, and of all the towns in
Flanders with it.
My uncle Toby was a man patient of
injuries;-not from want of courage;-I
have told you in a former chapter, "that
"he was a man of courage:" and will add
here, that where just occasions presented,
or called it forth,-I know no man under
whose arm I would have sooner taken shelter;-nor did this arise from any insensibility or obtuseness of his intellectual parts;
-for he felt this insult of my father as
feelingly as a man could do; —but he was
of a peaceful, placid nature,-no jarring
element in it,-all was mixed up so kindly,
within him; my uncle Toby had scarce a
heart to retaliate upon a fly.
-Go,-says he, one day at dinner, to an
overgrown one which had buzzed about his
nose, and tormented him cruelly all dinnertime,-and which, after infinite attempts, he
had caught at last, as it flew by him;-I'll
not hurt thee, says my uncle Toby, rising
from his chair, and going across the room,
with the f4y in his hand, —— I'll not hurt a
hair of thy head: —Go, says he, lifting up
the sash, and opening his hand,'aR he spoke,
to let it escape;-go, podr devil, get thee
gone, why should I hurt thee'. — This
world surely is wide enough to hold both
thee and me.
I was but ten years old when this happened: but whether it Was, that the action
itself was more in unison to my nerves in
that age of pity, which instantly set my
whole frame into one vibration of most
pleasurable sensation:-or how  far the
manner and expression of it might go towards it;-or in what degree, or by what
secret magic,-a tone of voice and harmony
of movement, attuned by mercy, might find
a passage to my heart, I know not;-this




'/X
^ -
*I!',I'll,li I.II'.; I,/








OF TRISTRAM SHANDY.


53


I know, that the lesson of universal goodwill then taught and imprinted by my uncle
Toby, has:never since been worn out of
mind: and though I would not depreciate
what the study of the literce humaniores,
at the university, have done for me in that
respect, or discredit the other helps of an
expensive education bestowed upon me,
both at home and abroad since;-yet I often
think that I owe one half of my philanthropy to that one accidental impression.
This is to serve for parents and governors,
instead of a wholevolume upon the subject.
I could not give the reader this stroke in
my uncle Toby's picture, by the instrument
with which I drew the other parts of it,<that taking in no more than the mere HOBBYHORSICAL likeness;- this is a part of his
moral character. My father, in this patient
endurance of wrongs which I mention, was
very different, as the reader must long ago
have noted; he had a much more acute and
quick sensibility of nature, attended with a
little soreness of temper. Though this never
transported him to any thing which looked
like malignancy;-yet in the little rubs and
vexations of life,'twas apt to show itself
in a drollish and witty kind of peevishness:
-He was, however, frank and generous in
his nature;-at all times open to conviction:
and in the little ebullitions of this subacid
humor towards others, but particularly towards my uncle Toby, whom he truly loved,
-   he would feel more' pain, ten times
told (except in the affair of my aunt Dinah,
or where an hypothesis was concerned)
than what he ever gave.
The characters of the two brothers, in
this view of them, reflected light upon each
other, and appeared with great advantage
in this affair which arose about Stevinus.
I need not tell the reader, if he keeps a
HOBBY-HORsE,-   that a man's HOBBYHORSE is as tender a part as he has about
him; and that these unprovoked strokes at
my uncle Toby's could not be unfelt by
him.-   No:-   as I said above, my uncle
Toby did feel them, and very sensibly too.
Pray, Sir, what said he?-How did he
behave 3-0, Sir!-it was great; for as
soon as my father had done insulting his
HBBY-HoRSE,     he turned his head, without the least emotion, from Dr. Slop, tc
whom he wrs addressing his discourse, and




looking up into my father's face, with a
countenance spread over with so much goodnature;-so placid;-so fraternal;-so inexpressibly tender towards him:-it penetrated my father to his heart; he rose up
hastily from his chair, and seizing hold of
both my uncle Toby's hands as he spoke:brother Toby, said he,-I beg thy pardon;
-forgive, I pray thee, this rash humor
which my mother gave me. —   My dear,
dear brother, answered my uncle Toby, rising
up by my father's help, say no more about
it;-you are heartily welcome, had it been
ten times as much, brother. But'tis ungenerous, replied my father, to hurt any
man;-a brother worse;-but to hurt a
brother of such gentle manners,-so unprovoking,-and so unresenting;-'tis base:
-by Heaven,'tis cowardly.-You are heartily welcome, brother, quoth my uncle Toby,
-had it been fifty times as much. —Besides, what have I to do, my dear Toby, cried
my father, either with your amusements or
your pleasures, unless it was in my power
(which it is not) to increase their measure?
-Brother Shandy, answered my uncle
Toby, looking wistfully in his face,-you
are much mistaken in this point;-for you
do increase my pleasure very much, in begetting children for the Shandy family at
your time of life. — But, by that, Sir, quoth
Dr. Slop, Mr. Shandy increases his own
— Not a jot, quoth my father.
CHAP. XIII.
MY brother does it, quoth my uncle Toby,
out ofprinciple.-In a family way, I suppose, quoth Dr. Slop.- Pshaw! said my
father,-'tis not worth talking of.
CHAP. XIV.
AT the end of the last chapter, my fathel
and my uncle Toby were left both standing,
like Brutus and Cassius, at the close of the
scene, making up their accounts.
As my father spoke the three last words.
)-he sat down;-my uncle Toby exactly
followed his example, only, that before he
5*




54


LIFE AND OPINIONS


took his chair, he rung the bell, to order
Corporal Trim, who was in waiting, to step
home for Stevinus:-my uncle Toby's house
being no farther off than the opposite side
of the way.
Some men would have dropped the subject of Stevinus;-but my uncle Toby had
no resentment in his heart; and he went
on with the subject, to show my father he
had none.
Your sudden appearance, Dr. Slop, quoth
my uncle, resuming the discourse, instantly brought Stevinus into my head. (My
father, you may be sure, did not offer to lay
any more wagers upon Stevinus's head.)
-   Because, continued my uncle Toby,
the celebrated sailing chariot, which belonged to Prince Maurice, and was of such
wonderful contrivance, and velocity, as to
carry half a dozen people thirty German
miles, in I don't know how few minutes,was invented by Stevinus, that great
mathematician and engineer.
You might have spared your servant the
trouble, quoth Dr. Slop (as the fellow is
lame) of going for Stevinus's account of it,
because, in my return from Leyden through
the Hague, I walked as far as Schevling,
which is two long miles, on purpose to take
a view of it.
That's nothing, replied my uncle Toby,
to what the learned Peireskius did, who
walked a matter of five hundred miles,
reckoning from Paris to Schevling, and
from Schevling to Paris back again, in order to see it,-and nothing else.
Some men cannot bear to be outgone.
The more fool Peireskius, replied Dr.
Slop. But, mark,'twas out of no contempt
of Peireskius at all;-but that Peireskius's
indefatigable labor in trudging so far on
foot, out of love for the sciences, reduced
the exploit of Dr. Slop, in that affair, to
nothing;-the more fool Peireskius, said
he again.-Why so -replied my father,
taking his brother's part, not only to make
reparation as fast as he could for the insult
he had given him, which sat still upon my
father's mind;-but partly, that my father
began really to interest himself in the discourse -Why so?-said he. Why is Peireski.s, or any man else, to be abused for an
appetite for that, or any other morsel of
wrund knowledge: for notwithstanding I


know nothing of the chariot in question,
continued he, the inventor of it must have
had a very mechanical head; and though 1
cannot guess upon what principles of philosophy he has achieved it;-yet certainly
his machine has been constructed upon solid
ones, be they what they will, or it could
not have answered at the rate my brother
mentions.
It answered, replied my uncle Toby, as
well, if not better; for, as Peireskius elegantly expresses it, speaking of the velocity
of its motion, Tam citus erat, quam erat
ventus: which, unless I have forgot my
Latin, is, that it was as swift as the wind
itself.
But pray, Dr. Slop, quoth my father, interrupting my uncle (though not without
begging pardon for it at the same time)
upon what principles was this self-same
chariot set a-going —Upon very pretty
principles to be sure, replied Dr. Slop:and I have often wondered, continued he,
evading the question, why none of ouM
gentry, who live upon large plains like this
of ours,-(especially they whose wives are
not past child-bearing) attempt nothing of
this kind; for it would not only be infinitely
expeditious upon sudden calls, to which the
sex is subject,-if the wind only served,but would be excellent good husbandry to
make use of the winds, which cost nothing,
and which eat nothing, rather than horses,
which (the Devil take'em) both cost and
eat a great deal.
For that very reason, replied my father,
"Because they cost nothing, and because
"they eat nothing,"-the scheme is bad;it is the consumption of our products, as
well as the manufactures of them, which
gives bread to the hungry, circulates trade,
brings in money, and supports the value of
our lands:-and though, I own, if I was a
prince, I would generously recompense the
scientific head which brought forth such
contrivances;-yet I would as peremptorily
suppress the use of them.
My father here had got into his element,
and was going on as prosperously with his
dissertation upon trade, as my uncle Toby
had before, upon his of fortification; but to
the loss of much sound knowledge, the destinies in the morning had decreed that no
dissertation of any kind should be spun by




OF TRISTRAM SHANDY.


55


my father that day,-for as he opened his
mouth to begin the next sentence,
CHAP. XV.
IN popped Corporal Trim with Stevinus:
-But'twas too late;-all the discourse had
been exhausted without him, and was running into a new channel.
-You may take the book home again,
Trim, said my uncle Toby, nodding to him.
But, prithee, Corporal, quoth my father,
drolling,-look first into it, and see if thou
canst spy aught of a sailing chariot in it.
Cgrporal Trim, by being in the service,
had learned to obey,-and not to remonstrate;-so taking the book to a side-table,
and running over the leaves: an' please
your Honour, said Trim, I can see no such
thing; however, continued the Corporal,
drolling a little in his turn, I'll make sure
work of it, an' please your Honor. So
taking hold of the two covers of the book,
one in each hand, and letting the leaves fall
down as he bent the covers back, he gave
the book a good sound shake.
There is something fallen out, however,
said Trim, an' please your Honor;-but it is
not a chariot, or any thing like one. Prithee,
Corporal, said my father, smiling, what is it
then?-I think, answered Trim, stooping to
take it up,-'tis more like a sermon,-for it
begins with a text of scripture, and the
chapter and verse;-and then goes on, not
as a chariot, but like a sermon directly.
The company smiled.
I cannot conceive how it is possible,
quoth my uncle Toby, for such a thing as a
sermon to have got into my Stevinus.
I think'tis a sermon, replied Trim;-but
if it please your Honors, as it is a fair hand,
I will read you a page:-for Trim, you
must know, loved to hear himself read almost as well as talk.
I have ever a strong propensity, said my
father, to look into things which cross my
way, by such strange fatalities as these.;and as we have nothing better to do, at least
till Obadiah gets back, I shall be obliged to
you, brother, if Dr. Slop has no objection to
it, to order the Corporal to give us a page
or two of it,-if he is as able to do it as


he seems willing. An' please your Honor,
quoth Trim, I officiated two whole campaigns in Flanders, as clerk to the chaplain
of the regiment.   He can read it, quoth
my uncle Toby, as well as I can.- Trim,
I assure you, was the best scholar in my
company; and should have had the next
halberd, but for the poor fellow's misfortune. Corporal Trim laid his hand upon
his heart, and made an humble bow to his
master;-then laying down his hat upon the
floor, and taking up the sermon in his left
hand, in order to have his right at liberty,he advanced, nothing doubting, into the
middle of the room, where he could best
see, and be best seen by his audience.
CHAP. XVI.
-IF you will have any objection,-said
my father, addressing himself to Dr. Slop.
-Not in the least, replied Dr. Slop:-for
it does not appear on which side of the
question it is wrote-it may be a composition of a Divine of our church, as well as
yours; so that we run equal risks.-'Tis wrote upon neither side, quoth Trim,
for'tis only upon Conscience, an' please
your Honors.
Trim's reason put his audience into goodhumor,-all but Dr. Slop, who, turning his
head about towards Trim, looked a little
angry.
Begin, Trim,-and read distinctly, quoth
my father.-I will, an' please your Honor,
replied the Corporal; making a bow, and
bespeaking attention with a slight movement of his right hand.
CHAP. XVII.
* —-  But before the Corporal begins, I
must first give you a description of his atti
tude;-otherwise he will naturally stand
represented, by your imagination, in an
uneasy posture,-stiff,-perpendicular —d 
viding the weight of his body equally upon
both legs;-his eye fixed, as if on duty;his look determined, clenching the sermon
in his left hand, like his firelock. —In f




56


LIFE AND OPINI NSU;


word, you would be apt to paint Trim as if carelessly, in his left hand, raised something
ne was standing in his platoon ready for ac- above his stomach, and detached a little
tion.-His attitude was as unlike all this as from his breast;-his right arm falling neg
you can conceive.                      ligently by his side, as nature and the laws
He stood before them with his body sway- of gravity ordered it, -but with the palm
ed and bent forwards, just so far as to make of it open and turned towards his audience,
an angle of 85 degrees and a half upon the ready to aid the sentiment, in case it stood
plain of the horizon;-which sound orators, in need.
to whom I address this, know very well to  Corporal Trim's eyes and the muscles of
be the true persuasive angle of incidence; his face were in full harmony with the other
-in any other angle you may talk and parts of him;-he looked frank,-unconpreach;-'tis certain;-and it is done every strained,-something assured,-but not borday;-but with what effect,-I leave the dering upon assurance.
world to judge!                          Let not the critic ask how Corporal Trim
The necessity of this precise angle of 85 could come by all this-I've told him it
degrees and a half to a mathematical ex- should be explained;-but so he stood; beactness,-does it not show us, by the way, fore my father, my uncle Toby, and Dr.
how the arts and sciences mutually befriend Slop;-so swayed his body, so contrasted
each othert                            his limbs, and with such an oratorical sweep
How the deuce'Corporal Trim, who throughout the whole figure,-a statuary
knew not so much as an acute angle from might have modelled from it;-nay, I doubt
an obtuse one, came to hit it so exactly;-  whether the oldest Fellow of a College,or whether it was chance or nature, or good or the Hebrew Professor himself, could
sense, or imitation, <cc. shall be commented have much mended it.
upon in that part of the Cyclopaedia of Arts  Trim made a bow, and read as follows:and Sciences, where the instrumental parts
of the eloquence of the senate, the pulpit,       THE SERMON.
and the bar,'the coffee-house, the bed-cham-       R           1.  - ~.-  ~ -  -.S.  ~  HEBREWS, xiii. 18.
ber, and fireside, fall under consideration.
He stood,-for I repeat it, to take the      For we trust we have a good Conscience.
picture of him in at one view, with his body  " TRUST!-Trust we have a good conswayed, and somewhat bent forwards;-his " science!"
right leg from under him, sustaining seven-  [Certainly, Trim, quoth my father, intereighths of his whole weight,-  the foot of rupting him, you give that sentence a very
his left leg, the defect of which was no improper accent; for you curl up your nose,
disadvantage to his attitude, advanced a man, and read it with such a sneering tone,
little,-not laterally, nor forwards, but in a as if the Parson was going to abuse the
line betwixt them;-his knee bent, but that Apostle.
not violently,-but so as to fall within the  He is, ain' please your Honor, replied
limits of the line of beauty;-and I add, of Trim. Pugh! said my father, smiling.
the line of science too; for consider, it had  Sir, quoth Dr. Slop, Trim is certainly in
one eighth part of his body to bear up;-so the right; for the writer (who I perceive is
that in this case the position of the leg is a Protestant) by the snappish manner in
determined,-because the foot could be no which he takes up the apostle, is certainly
farther advanced, or the knee more bent, going to abuse him;-if this treatment of
than what would allow him mechanically to him has not done it already. But from
receive an eighth part of his whole weight whence, replied my father, have you conunder it, and to carry it too.         cluded so soon, Dr. Slop, that the writer is
(Jy This I recommend to painters;-  of our church —for aught I can see yet,ieed I add, to orators!-I think not: for he may be of any church. - Because, anunless they practise it,- -  they must fall swered Dr. Slop, if he was of ours, he durst
upon their noses.                      no more take such a license, than a bear
So much for Corporal Trim's body and by his beard. If, in our communion, Sir, a
legs — He held the sermon loosely, not man was to insult an apostle,-a saint, —or




j'1
M i  I


THE' SERMON.'l' Trim made a bow. and read as folltow-:."-. -66.








OF TRISTRAM SHANDY.


57


even the paring of a saint's nail,-he would
have his eyes scratched out.-What, by the
saint quoth my uncle Toby. No, replied
Dr. Slop, he would have an.old house over.
his head. Pray is theInquisition an ancient
building, answered my uncle Toby, or is it
a modern one 7-I know nothing of architecture, replied Dr. Slop.-An' please your
Honor, quoth Trim, the Inquisition is the
vilest-Prithee spare thy description, Trim,
I hate the very name of it, said my father.
-No matter for that, answered Dr. Slop,it has its uses: for though I'm no great advocate for it, yet in such a case as this, he
would soon be taught better manners; and
I can tell him, if he went on at that rate,
would be flung into the inquisition for his
pains. God help him then, quoth my uncle
Toby. Amen, added Trim; for Heaven
above knows, I have a poor brother who has
been fourteen years a captive in it. I never
heard one word of it before, said my uncle
Toby, hastily:-how came he there, Trim 1
-0, Sir, the story will make your heart
bleed,-as it has made mine a thousand
times: —but it is too long to be told now;your Honor shall hear it from first to last
some day when I am working beside you in
our fortifications; — but the short of the
story is this-that my brother Tom went
over a servant to Lisbon,-and then -narried a Jew's widow who kept a small shop,
and sold sausages, which, somehow or other,
was the cause of his being itaken in the
middle of the night out of his bed, where
he was lying with his wife and two small
children, and carried directly to the Inquisition, where, God help him, continued
Trim, fetching a sigh from the bottom of
his heart,-the poor honest lad lies confined
at this hour. He was as honest a soul,
added Trim, (pulling out his handkerchief)
as ever blood warmed.-The tears trickled down Trim's cheeks
faster than he could well wipe them away.
-A dead silence in the room ensued for
some minutes.-Certain proof of pity!
Come, Trim, quoth my father, after he
saw the poor fellow's grief had got a little
vent,-read on,-and put this melancholy
story out of thy head;-I grieve that I interrupted thee; but prithee begin the sermon again; —for if the first sentence in it
is matter of abuse, as thou sayest, I have a
H


great desire to know what kind of provocation the apostle has given.
Corporal Trim wiped his face, and returned his handkerchief into his pocket.
and making a bow as he did it,-he began
again.
THE SERMON.
HEBREWS, xiii. 18.
-    For we trust we have a good Conscience.
"TRUST!-Trust we have a good con"science! Surely, if therejs any thing in
"this life which a man may depend upon,
"and to the knowledge of which he is ca.
"pable of arriving upon the most indisputa"ble evidence, it must be this very thing,"whether he has a good conscience or no."
[I am positive I am right, quoth Dr. Slop.]
"If a man thinks at all, he cannot well
"be a stranger to the true state of this
"account:-he must be privy to his own
" thoughts and desires; —he. must remem" ber his past pursuits, and know certainly
"the true springs and motives, which, in
"general, have governed the actions of his
"life."
[I defy him, without an assistant, quoth
Dr. Slop.]
"In other matters we may be deceived
"by false appearances; and, as the wise
"man complains, hardly do we guess aright
"at the things that are upon the earth,
" and with labor do we find the things that
"are before us. But here the mind has all
"the evidence and facts within herself;"is conscious of the web she has wove;"knows its texture and fineness, and the
"exact share which every passion has had
"in working upon the several designs
"which virtue or vice has planned before
"her."
[The language is good; and I declare
Trim reads very well, quoth my father.]
"Now,-as conscience is nothing else
"but the knowledge which the mind has
"within herself of this; and the judgment,
"either of approbation or censure, which it
"unavoidably makes upon the successive
"actions of our lives;'tis plain, you will
"say, from the very terms of the proposi"tion,-whenever this inward testimony.
"goes against a man, and he stands sell
"accused, that he must necessarily be




58


LIFE AND OPINIONS


" guilty man. —And on the contrary, when
"the report is favorable on his side, and his
"heart condemns him not,-that it is not a
"matter of trust, as the apostle intimates,
"but a matter of certainty and fact, that
"'the conscience is good, and that the man
" must be good also."
[Then the apostle is altogether in the
wrong, I suppose, quoth Dr. Slop; and the
Protestant divine is in the right. Sir, have
patience, replied my father, for I think it
will presently appear that St. Paul and the
Protestant divine are both of an opinion.As nearly so, quoth Dr. Slop, as east is to
west;-But this, continued he, lifting both
hands, comes from the liberty of the press.
It is no-more, at the worst, replied my
uncle Toby,'than the liberty of the pulpit;
for it does not appear that the sermon is
printed, or ever likely to be.
Go on, Trim, quoth my father.]
"At first sight this may seem to be a true
" tate of the case: and I make no doubt
"but the knowledge of right and wrong is
"so truly impressed upon the mind of man,
" -that did no such thing ever happen, as
"that the conscience of a man, by long
*-habits of sin, might (as the scripture as"sures it may) insensibly become hard;"and, like some tender parts of his body,
"by much stress and continued hard usage,' lose by degrees that nice sense and perception with which God and nature en" dowed it:-did this never happen;-or
"was it certain that self-love could never
"hang the least bias upon the judgment -
"or that the little interests below could rise
" up and perplex the faculties of our upper
" regions, and encompass them about with
"clouds and thick darkness:-Could no
" such thing as favor and affection enter this
"sacred court:-Did Wit disdain to take a
"'bribe in it;-or was ashamed to show its
" face as an advocate for an unwarrantable
"'enjoyment: or lastly, were we assured' that Interest stood always unconcerned' whilst the cause was hearing-and that
Passion never got into the judgmen'-seat,
"and pronounced sentence in the stead of
"Reason, which is supposed always to pre* side and determine upon the case:-was. this truly so, as the objection must sup1 pose;-no doubt then the religious and' mora; state of a man would be exactly




"what he himself esteemed it:-and the;"guilt or innocence of every man's life
"could be known, in general, by no better
"measure, than the degrees of his own
"approbation and censure.."
"I own, in one case, whenever a man's
" conscience does accuse him (as it seldom
"errs on that side) that he is guilty; and
"unless in melancholy and hypochondriac
"cases, we may safely pronounce upon it,
"that there is always sufficient grounds for
"the accusation.
"But the converse of the proposition will
"not hold true;-namely, that whenever
"there is guilt, the conscience must accuse;
"and if it does not, that a man is therefore
"innocent.-  This is not fact.  So that
"the common consolation Which some good
"christian or other is hourly administering
"to himself,-that he thanks God his mind
"does not misgive him; and that, conse"quently, he has a good conscience, because
"he hath a quiet one,-is fallacious;-and
"as current as the inference is, and as
"infallible as the rule appears. at first sight,
"yet when you look nearer to it, and try
"the truth of this rule upon plain facts
"-you see it liable to so much error from
"a false application; the principle upon
"which it goes so often perverted;-the
"whole force of it -lost, and sometimes so
"vilely cast away, that it is painful to pro"duce the common examples of human life,
" which confirIn the account.
"A man shall be vicious and utterly de"bauched in his principles;-exceptionable
"in his conduct to the world; shall live
"shameless, in the open commission of a
"sin which no reason or pretence can jus"tify,-a-sin by which, contrary to all the
" workings of humanity, he shall ruin for
"ever the deluded partner of his guilt;"rob her of her best dowry; and not only
"cover her own head with dishonor;-but
"involve a whole virtuous family in shame
"and dishonor for her sake. Surely, you
"will think Conscience must lead such a
"man a troublesome life; he can have no
"rest night or day from its reproaches.
"Alas! Conscience had something else
"to do all this time, than break in upon
"him: as Elijah reproached the god Baal,
" -this domestic god woas either talking,
"or pursuing, or was on a journey, or




OF- IRISTRAI'pperadventure he slept, and could not be
"'awoke.
"Perhaps he was gone out -in company'with Honor, to fight a duel; to pay off
"some debt at play,;-or dirty annuity,\ the
"bargain of his lust. Perhaps Conscience
"all this time was engaged at home, talking
"aloud against petty larceny, and exe"cuting vengeance upon some such puny
" crimes, as his fortune and rank of life se"cured him against all temptation of com"mitting; so that he lives as merrily"[If he was of our church, though, quoth Dr.
Slop, he could not.]-" sleeps as soundly in
"his bed;-and at last meets death as un"concernedly!-perhaps much more so than
" a much better man."
[All this is impossible with us, quoth Dr.
Slop, turning to my father;-the case could
not happen in our church.-It happens in
ours, however, replied my father, but too
often. —-I own, quoth Dr. Slop, (struck a
little with my father's frank acknowledgment)-that a man in the Romish church
may live as badly;-but then he cannot
easily die so.-'Tis little matter, replied
my father, with an air of indifference, how
a rascal dies.-I mean, answered Dr. Slop,
he would be denied the benefits of the last
sacraments.-Pray, how many have you in
all, said my uncle Toby,-for I always iforget — Seven, answered Dr. Slop.
Humph!-said my uncle Toby;-though not
accented as a note of acquiescence, but as
an interjection of that particular species of
surprise, when a man, in looking into a
drawer, finds more of a thing than he expected,-Humph! replied my uncle Toby.
Dr. Slop, who had an ear, understood my
uncle Toby as well as if he had wrote a
whole volume against the seven sacraments.
-   Humph! replied Dr. Slop (stating my
uncle Toby's argument over again to him)
— Why, Sir, are there not seven cardinal
virtues — seven mortal sins?-seven golden candlesticks3.-seven heavens? -'Tis
more than I know, replied my uncle Toby.
— Are there not seven wonders of the
world — seven days of the creation? —seven
planets — seven plagues? -That there
are, quoth my father, with a most affected
gravity. But prithee, continued he, go on
with the rest of thy characters, Trim:]
"Another is sordid, unmerciful," (here


M SHANDY.                           593
Trim  waved- his right hand) "a-strait" hearted selfish wretch, incapable either of
"private friendship or public spirit. Take
"notice how he passes by the widow and
"orphan in their distress, and sees all the
"miseries incident to human life without
"a sigh-or a prayer." [An' please your
Honors, cried Trim, I think this a viler
man than the other.]
"Shall not conscience rise up and sting
" him on such occasions?-No; thank God,
"there is no occasions I pay every man his
"own; —I have no fornication to answer
"to my conscience;-no faithless vows or
"promises to make up; —I have debauched
"no man's -wife or child. Thank GCod, 1
"-am not as other men, adulterers, unjust,
"or even as this libertine, who stands before




"me.
"A third is crafty and designing in his
"nature. View his whole life;-'tis nothing
"but a cunning contexture of dark arts and
"unequitable subterfuges, basely to defeat
"the true intent of all laws,-plain dealing,
" and the safe enjoyment of our several prop" erties. -You will see such a one work"ing out a frame of little designs upon the
"ignorance and perplexities of the poor and
"needy man;-shall raise a fortune upon
"the inexperience of'a youth, or the unsus"pecting temper of his friend, who would
"have trusted him with his life.
"When old age comes on, and repent"ance calls him to look back upon this black
"account, and state it over again with his
"conscience,-Conscience looks into the
"STATUTES at LARGE;-finds no express
"law broken by what he has done;-per"ceives no penalty or forfeiture of goods
"and chattels incurred;-sees no scourge
"waving over his head, or prison opening
"its gates upon him:-,What is there to
" affright his conscience — Conscience has
"got safely entrenched behind the Lettel
"of the Law; sits there invulnerable, for"tified with  CaSMt and'iArortt, so
"strongly on all sides, —that it is not preach"ing can dispossess it of itshold."
[Here Corporal Trim and my uncle Toby
exchanged looks with each other.-Ay, ay,
Trim! quoth my uncle Toby, shaking his
head,-these are but sorry fortifications,
Trim. —-! very poor work, answeredr
Trim, to what your Honor and I make of




60


LIFE AND OPINIONS


it. —The character of this last man, said
Dr. Slop, interrupting Trim, is more Oetestable than all the rest; and seems to
have been taken from some pettifogging
Lawyer amongst you. Amongst us, a man's
conscience could not possibly continue so
long blinded; three times in a year, at least,
he must go to confession. —Will that restore it to sight. quoth my uncle Toby.
Go on, Trim, quoth my father, or Obadiah will have got back before thou hast
got to the end of thy sermon.-'Tis a
very short one, replied Trim. — I.wish it
was longer, quoth my uncle Toby, for I like
it hugely.-Trim went on.]
", A fourth man shall want even this
"refuge;-shall break through all the cere"mony of slow chicane;-scorns the doubt-'ful workings of secret plots and cautious
"trains to bring about his purpose:-see
"the barefaced villain, how he cheats, lies,
"perjures, robs, murders!-Horrid'! —But'indeed much better was not to be expect-'ted in the present case,-the poor man
"was "in the dark!-his priest had got the
"keeping of his conscience;-  and all he
"would let him know of it, was, That he
"must believe in the Pope, —go to mass,"cross himself,-tell his beads,-be a good
"Catholic; and that this, in all conscience,
-"was enough to carry him to heaven.
"What! —if he perjures' —Why,-he had
"a mental reservation in it.-But if he is
"so Wicked and abandoned a wretch as you
"represent him;-if he robs,-if he stabs,
"will not conscience, on every such act,
"receive a wound itself? —Ay,-but the
"man.has carried it to confession;-the
"wound digests there, and will do well'"enough, and in a short time be quite healed
"up by absolution. 0 Popery! what hast
"thou to answer for!-when, not content
"with the too many natural and fatal ways,
"thro' which the heart of man is every day
~* thus treacherous to itself above all things,' —thou hast wilfully set open the wide
"gate of deceit before the face of this un"wary traveller,-too apt, God knows, to' go astray of himself, and confidently speak
"peace to himself, when there is no peace.
"Of this the common instances which I
".have drawn out of life, are too notorious
to require much evidence. If any man.doubts the reality of them, or thinks it


"impossible for a man to be such a bubble
"to himself, —I must refer him a moment to
"his own reflections, and will then venture
"to trust my appeal with his own heart.
" Let him consider in how different a de"gree of detestation, numbers of wicked
".actions stand there, though equally bad
"and vicious in their own natures;-he
" will soon -find, that such of them as strong
" inclination and custom have proipted him
"to commit, are generally dressed out and
"painted with all the false beauties which
"a soft and a flattering hand can give
"them;-and that the others, to which he
"feels no propensity, appear at once naked
"and deformed, surrounded with all the
"true circumstances of folly and dishonor.
"When David surprised Saul sleeping
" in the cave, and cut off the skirt of his
"robe,-we -read that his heart smote him
" for what he had done:-but in the matter
"of Uriah, where a faithful and gallant
"servant, whom he ought to have loved and
"honored, fell to make way for his lust,"where conscience had so much greater
"reason to take the alarm, his:heart smote
" him not. A whole year had almost passed
"from the first commission of that crime,
"to the time -Nathan was sent to reprove
"him; and we read not once of the least
" sorrow or compunction of heart which he
" testified, during all that time, for what he
"had done.
"Thus Conscience, this once able moni"tor,-placed on high as a judge within us,
"and intended by our Maker as a just and
"     equitable one too,-by an unhappy train
"of causes and impediments, takes often
"such imperfect cognizance of what passes,
"-does its office so negligently, —some"times so corruptly, —that it is hot tobe
"trusted alone; and therefore we find there
"is a necessity, an absolute necessity, of
"joining another principle with it, to aid,
"if not govern, its determinations.
"So that, if you would form a just judg"ment of what is of infinite importance to
"you not to be misled in, —namely, in what
" degree of real merit you stand, either as
" an -honest man, an useful citizen, a faith"ful subject to your king, or a good servant
"to your God, call in religion and morality,
" Look: whatis written in the law of God'
" -How readest thou?-Consult calm rea




0" TRISTRAM- SHANDY.


61


"son and'-the unchangeable obl'igations of
"justice and truth; what say they 
"Let CONSCIENCE determine the matter
" upon these'reports;-and then if thy heart
"condemns thee not, which is'the case the
"apostle supposes,-the' rule will be infal"lible-;-[Here -Pr. Slop fell asleep]-'thou wilt have confidence towards God;
"-that is, have just grounds to belieye the
"judgment thou hast past upon thyself, is
" the- judgment of God; andl nothing'else
"but an anticipation of that righteous sen" tence which will be pronounced upon thee
"'hereafter, by that Being to whom thou art
" finally to give an' account of thy actions.
"    Blessed is the man, indeed, then, as the
" author of, the' book of Ecclesiasticus ex" presses it, who is' not pricked with the
"multitude of his sins: blessed is the man
"whose heart hath not condemned him;' whether he be rich, or whether he be poor,
"i*f he have a good heart (a' heart thus
"guided and informed) he shall at all times
"rejoice ijn a cheerful countenance; his
"mind shall tell him' more than seven
"watchmen that sit above upon a tower on
"high.-[A tower has no strength, quoth
my uncle Toby, unless'tis flanked.]-" In
"the darkest doubts it shall conduct him
"safer than a thousand casuists, and give' the state he lives in a better security -for
-his behavior. than all the causes and
" restrictions put together, which law-ina"kers are -frced'to multiply: —firced, I
" say, as' things stand; human laws not
"' being a matter of original choice, but of
pure necessity, brought in to fence against
"the mischievous effects of those con*sciences which are no law unto -themselves; well intending, by the many pro-; visions made,-that in all such'corrupt''-nd>misguided cases, where principles and
" the checks of conscience will not make
"us- upright,-to supply their force, and,
"by the terrors of gaols and halters, oblige
"us to it."
[I see plainly, said my father, that this
sermon'has been composed to be preached
at the Temple, —or at some Assize.-I like
the reasoning, —and am sorry that Dr. Slop
nas fallen asleep before the time of his conviction;; -for it is now clear, that the Parson, as I thought at first, neverinsulted St.
IPaul in the least;- nor h'a-'there -been,


brother, the least difference between them.
— A great matter, if they had differed,
replied my uncle Toby!-the best friends
in the world may differ sometimes. —True, —brother Toby, quoth my father,
shaking hands with him,-we'll fill our
pipes, brother, and then Trim shall go on.
Well,-what dost thou think of it? said
my father, speaking to Corporal Trim, as
he reached his tobacco-box.
I think, answered the Corporal, that the
seven watchmen upon the tower, —who, I
suppose, are all sentinels there,-are more,
an' please your Honor, than were neces.
sary;-and, to go on at that rate, would
harass a regiment all to pieces, which a
commanding-officer, who loves his men, will
never do, if he can help it; because two
sentinels, added the Corporal, are as good
as twenty. —I have been a commandingofficer myself in the Corps de Garde, a
hundred times, continued Trim, rising an
inch higher in his figure,'as he spoke;and all the time I had the honor to serve
his Majesty King William, in relieving the
most considerable posts, I never left more
than two in my jife. —-Very right, Trim,
quoth'my uncle Toby; —but you.do not consider, Trim, that the towers, in Solomon's
days, were not such things as our bastions,
flanked and defended by other works. —
This, Trim, was an invention since Solomon's death; nor had they horn-works,-or
ravelins before the curtain, in his time;of such a fosse as we make with a cuvette
in the middle of it, and with covered ways
and counterscarps pallisadoed along it,-to,
guard against a coup de main: —so that the
seven men upon the tower were a party, I
dare say, from the' Corps de Garde, set
there; not only to look out, bnt to defend it.
-:They could be no more, an' please
your Honor, than a corporal's guard'.My father smiled inwardly,. but not outwardly;-the'subject being rather too serious, considering what had happened, to
make a jest of: —so putting his pipe into
his mouth, which he had just lighted,-he
contented himself with ordering Trim te
read on. He read on as follows;-]
"To have the fear of God before ouJ
"eyes, and, in our mutual'dealingos with
"each other, to govern our actions by thb,"eternal measures of rightand wron;6




62                         LIFE AN. - OPINIONS
"the first of these will comprehend the du-' fairness of their characters.-In a word,
"ties of religion;-the second, those of "I'm persuaded that they cannot hurt me
"morality, which are so inseparably con- " without hurting themselves more.
"nected together, that- ybu cannot divide  "But put it otherwise; namely, that in-."these two tables, even in imagination'" terest lay, for once, on the other side;
"(though the attempt is often made in "that a case should'happen, wherein the
" practice) without breaking and mutually " one, without stain to his reputation, could
"destroying them both.                 "secrete my fortune, and leave me-naked
" I said the attempt is'often made; and so "in the'world;-or that the other could
" it is';-there being nothing more common "send me out of it, and enjoy an estate by
" thani to see a man who has no sense at " my death, without dishonor to himself or
-"all of religion, and indeed has so much "his art;-in -this case, what hold ha've I
"honesty as to pretend to none, who would "of eitherof them I-Religion,- the strongtake it as the bitterest affront, should you "est of all motives, is out of the question,
"but hint at a suspicion of his moral char- "-interest, the next most powerful motive
" acter,-or imagine he was not conscien- "in the, world, is strongly against me:"tiously just and scrupulous to the,utter- "What have I left to cast into the opposite
"most rnite.                           "scale, to balance this temptation?"When there is some appearance that it' "Alas! I have nothing-nothing but what
"is so,-though -one is'unwilling even to "is lighter than a bubble.- I must lie at
"suspect the appearance of so amiable a "the.mercy of Honor, or some such capri"virtue as moral honesty, yet'were we to "cious principle,-strait security for two of
"look into the grounds of it; in the present "the most valuable blessings!-my property
"case, I am persuaded'we should find little "' and my life.
"reason to envy such a -.one the honor of  "As therefore we can have no depend"his motive,                           "ence  upon morality without religion;"Let him declaim as pompously as he "so, on the other hand,-there is nothing
"chooses upon the subject, it will be found "better to be expected from religion with" to rest upon no better foundation than I',out morality; nevertheless,'tis no prodigy
"either his interest, his pride, his ease, or "to see a man whose real' moral character
"some such little and changeable passion "stands very low, who yet entertains the
"as will give us but smalldependence upon "highest notion of himself in the light of a
" his actions in matters of great distress.  "religious man.
"I will illustrate this by an example.  "He shall'not only be covetous, revenge"I know                          the baker I deal with or the  ful, implacable, —but even wanting in
"physician I usually call in,"-[There is "-points of common honesty; yet inasmuch
no need, cried Dr. -Slop, waking, to call in "as he talks aloud against the infidelity of
an.y physician in this case]-" to be neither "the age,-is zealous for some points of
"of them men of much religion: I hear "religion,-goes twice a day to church,"them make a jest of it every day,'and" attends the sacraments,-and amuses him" treat all its sanctions with so much scorn, "self with a few instrumental parts of reli"as to put the matter past doubt. Well; "gion,-shall cheat his conscience into a
"-notwithstanding this, I put my fortune "'judgment, that, for this, he is'a religious
" into the hands of the one:-'and what'is "'mian, and has discharged truly his duty to
~ dearer still to me, I trust my life to the "God: and you will find that such a man,'! honest skill of the other.           "through force of this delusion, generally
X, Now, let me examine what is my rea- "looks down with spiritual pride upon every
"son for this great confidence. Why,.in "other man who'has less affectation -of
the first place, I believe there is-no proba- "piety, —though, perhaps, ten times more
"bility that either of them will employ the "real honesty, than himself.' power I put into their hands to my disad- I" This likewise isa sore evil under the
vantage;-I consider that honesty serves-" sun; and, I believe,' there is no one mis-' the purposes of this life.- I know their "taken principle, which, for its time,, has
success in the world depends upon the "wrought m6re serious mischiefs. —'-For




OY, TRISTRAR1'S HANDY.


63


"a. general proof of this,-examine the "vice and honor to God, by actions which' history of the Romish church;"-[Well, "are a dishonor and scandal to themselves!
what can you make of that'- cried Dr. Slop]'" To be convinced of this, go with me for
"see what scenes of cruelty, murder, rap- "a moment into the prisons of the- Inquisi-'ine, bloodshed," —[They may thank their " tion."-[God help my poor brother Tom.]
own obstinacy, cried Dr. Slop] —" have all. -" Behold Religion, with mercy and Jus"been sanctified by a religion not strictly "' tice.chained down under her feet,-there
"governed by morality I                 "sitting ghastly upon a black tribunal,
"In how many kingdoms of the worlol"- "propped up with racks and instruments of
[Here Trim kept waving his right hand " torment.-Hark!-hark!-what apiteous
from tthe sermon to the extent of his arm, "groan " —[Here Trim's face turned as
returning it backwards and forwards'to'the pale as. ashes.]' -"See the melancholy
conclusion of the paragraph.]           "wretch.who uttered it "-[Here the tears
"In how many kingdoms of the world began to trickle down] —    "just brought
"has the crusading sword of this misguided "forth to undergo the anguish of a mock
"'saint-errant spared neither age, or merit, "'trial, and endure the utmost'pains that a' or sex, or condition 1-and, as he fought "studied system of cruelty has been able
"under the banners of a religion which set- "to invent." — [D-n them  all, quotl
" him loose from justice and humanity, he Trim, his color returning into his face as
" showed none; mercilessly trampled upon red as blood.]-" Behold this helpless victim
"both,-heard neither the cries of the un- " delivered up to his tormentors,-his body
"fortunate, nor pitied their distresses!"  " so wasted with sorrow and confinement!"
[I have been in-many a battle, an' please -[Oh!'tis my brother, cried poor' Trim.
your Honor, quoth Trim, sighing, but never in a most'passionate exclamation, dropping
in so melanchbly r'one as this:-I would the sermon upon the ground, and clapping
not have drawn a trigger in it against these his hands together-I fear'tis poor Tom.
poor souls, —to have been made a general -  My father's and my uncle Toby's heart
officer.-Why     what do you understand yearned with sympathy.for the poor fellow's
of the affair? said Dr. Slop, looking towards distress; even Slop himself acknowledged
Trim: with something more of contempt pity for him.-       Why, Trim, said my
than the Corporal's honest heart -deserved. father, this is not a history,-'tis a sermon
-:-What do you' know, friend, about this thou art reading;- prithee begin the -senbattle you talk of? —  I know, replied tence again.]-" Behold this helpless vicTrim, that I never refused quarter in my "tiri delivered up to his tormentors,-his
life to any man who cried out for it:-but [" body so wasted with sorrow and confineto a woman or a child, continued Trim, be- " ment, you willi see every nerve and musfore I would level my-musket at them, I " cle as it suffers.
would lose my life a thousand times.-     "Observe the last' movement of that
Here's a crown for' thee, Trim, to drink "horrid engine!"-[I would rather face a
with Obadiah, to-night, quoth my' uncle cannon, quoth Trim, stamping.]-" See
Toby; and I'll give Obadiah another too. "what convulsions it has thrown him into!
-   God bless-your Honor, replied Trim,- "-Consider the nature of the posture in
I had rather these poor women and children "which he now lies stretched!-what exhad it.   Thou art an honest fellow, quoth "quisite tortures he endures by -it!"-[I
my uncle Toby.-My father nodded his hope'tis not in Portugal.]-"'Tis all nature
aead, as much as to say,-And so he is.-  "can'bear! Good God! see how he Keeps
But prithe'e, Trim, said my father, make "his weary soul hanging upon his trembling
an end,-for I see thou hast but a leaf or " lips!"-[I wouldnot read another line of
two left.                              it, quoth Trim, for,all'this world — I fear,
Corporal Trim read on.]              an'-please your Honors, all' this is in Portu,
"If the- testimony of past centuries in gal, where my poor brother Tom is. -.I
"'this matter is not sufficient,-consider at tell thee, Trim, again, quoth my father,'titi'"this -instant, how the votaries of that re- not an historical account, —'tis a description,
"ligion are -every day thinking to do ser- -'Tis only a description, honest man auodt:




64


LIFE AND


Slop;; there's not-a word of truth in it.That's another -story, replied:my father.
- - -Iowever, as Trim  reads it -with so
much concern,-'tis cruelty to force. him to
go on, with it.-Give me hold of the sermon, Trim,-I'll finish it for thee, and thou
may'st go.:-I must stay and hear it too,
replied Trim, if your Honor will allow me;
-though I would not read it myself for a
Colonel's pay. —- Poor Trim, quoth my
uncle Toby. —-My father went on.]
" — Consider the nature of the posture
" in which he now lies stretched! -what
"exquisite torture he endures by it!-'Tis
"all nature can bear! Good God! See how
" it keeps his weary soul hanging upon his
"trembling lips,-willing to take its leave,
— but not suffered to depart;-Behold the
"unhappy wretch led back to his cell!"
-    [Then, thank God, however, quoth
Trim, they have not killed him.] " See him
" dragged out of.it again to meet the flames,
~*and the insults in his last agonies, which
this principle, —this principle, that there
"can. be religion without mercy, has pre"pared for, him!"-[Then, thank God,'he is dead,. quoth T'rim,-he is out of his
pain, and they have done their worst at him.
-0 Sirs -! —Hold your peace, Trim, said
my father, going on with' the- sermon, lest
Trim should incense Dr. Slop,-we shall
never hayvedone at this rate.]." The surest way to try the merit of any
"disputed notion is, to trace down the con" sequences such a:notion has produced,:and
"compare them with the spirit of christian"ity;-'tis the short and.deisive rule which
"our Savior hath left us for these and such
"like cases, and it is worth a thousand ar*"guments-By their fruits ye shall know
"them.
"I will add no farther to the length of
"this -sermon, thar by two or three short.
"and independent rules deducible from it.
"First, Whenever a man talks loudly
" against religion, always suspect that it is
"not his reason, but his passions, which
"have got the better of his CREED. A bad
" life and a good belief are disagreeable and' troublesome) neighbors:' and where they
";eparate, depend upon it,'tis for~no other
" cause but quietness' sake.
"Secondly, When a man, thus repre-' senlted, tells you in any particular'in

OPINIONS
"'stance,-that such a thing goes against
"his conscience —always believe he means
"exactly the same thing. as when' he tells
" you such a thing'goes against his stomach;
"-a present-want'of appetite being gene"'rally the true cause of both.
"In a word,-trust that man in nothing,
" who hasnot a CONSCIENCE in every thing.
"And in your, own' case, remember this
" plin distinction, a mistake in which has
"ruined thousands, —that your conscience
"is not a law:-no, God and reason made
"the law, and have placed' conscience
"within you to determine;-not, liie an
"Asiatic Cadi, according to the ebbs and
" flows of his own passions,-but like a
"British judge in this land of liberty and
"good sense, who makes no hew law, but
" faithfully declares that law which he."knows already written."


FINIS.


Thou hast read the sermon extremely
well, Trim, quoth my father. —If he had
spared his comments,-replied Dr. Slop,he would have read it much better.-  I
should have read it ten times better, Sir, an-.swered Trim, but that my heart was so full.
-   That was the very reason, Trim, replied my father, which has made thee read
the sermon' as well as.thou hast done; and
if ihe clergy of our church, continued my
father, addressing' himself to Dr. Slop.
would take part in what they deliver as
deeply as this poor fellow has done,-as
their -compositions are fine;-[I deny it,
quoth Dr. Slop.] —I maintain it,-that the
eloquence of our pulpits, with such subjects
to inflame it, would be a model for the
whole world:- But alas! continued my
father, and I own it, Sir, with sorrow, that,
like French politicians in this respect, what
they gain in the cabinet they lose in the
field. —'Twere a pity, quoth my uncle,
that this. should be lost.- --   like the sermon well, replied my father,-'tis dramatic;
-and there is something in that way oI
writing, when -skilfully managed, which
catches the attention. —We'preach much
in that' way with us, said Dr. Slop. —I
know that very well, said my father,-but
in a tone'and manner which disgusted Dr,
Slop, full as much is his assent, simply,




OF TRISTRAM SHANDY.


65


could have pleased him. — But in this, and within so short a.space as-two years
added Dr. Slop, a little piqued,-our ser- and three months after Yorick's death --
mons have greatly the advantage, that we Yorick, indeed, was never better served in
never introduce any character into them his life;-but it was a little hard to malbelow a patriarch or a patriarch's wife, or treat him after, and plunder him after he
a martyr, or a saint.-There are some very was laid in his grave.
bad characters in this, however, said my  However, as the gentleman who did it
father; and-I do not think the sermon a jot was in perfect charity with Yorick,-and,
the worse for'em. — But pray,'quoth my in conscious justice, printed but a few copies
uncle Toby,-whose-can this be — How to give away;-and that I am told, he could
could it get into my Stevinius? —A man moreover have made as good a one himself,
nmust be as great a conjurer as Stevinus, had he thought fit,-I declare I would not
said my- father, to resolve the second ques- have published this anecdote to the world:
tion. The first, I think, is not so difficult;. -nor do I publish it with an intent to hurt
-for unless my judgment greatly deceives hischaracter andadvancementin the church
me, —I know the-author; for it was wrote,' I leave that to others; —but I find myself
certainly, by the parson of the parish.  impelled by two reasons, which.I cannot
The similitude of the style and manner withstand.
of it, with those my father. constantly had  The first is, That in doing justice I may
heard preached in his parish-church, was give rest' to Yorick's ghost: —which,-as
the ground of his conjecture,, proving it the country people, and some others, beas strongly as an argument d paliori could lieve,-still, walks.
prove such a thing to aphilosophic mind, - The second reason is, That, by laying
That it was Yorick's and no one's else.- open this story to the world, I gain an opIt was proved to be so, a posteriori, the portunity of informing it,-That in case
day after, when Yorick- sent a servant to the character of Parson Yorick, and the
mny uncle Toby's house to inquire after it. sample of his sermons, is liked,-there are
It seems that Yorick, who was inquisitive now in the possession of the Shandy family;
after all kinds of knowledge, had borrowed as many as will make a handsome volume,
Stevinus of my uncle Toby, and had care- at' the world's service: —and much grood
lessly popped his sermon, as soon as he had may they do it.
made'it, into the middle of Stevinus; and
by an act of.forgetfulness, to which he was
-ever subject, he had sent Stevinus home,
and his sermon to keep him company.                CHAP. XVIII
Ill-fated sermon! Thou wast lost, after
this recovery of thee, a second time, dropped  OnADIATH gained the two. crowns without
thro' an unsuspected'fissure in thy master's dispute; for he came in jingling with all
pocket, down into a treacherous and tattered the instruments in the green baize, bag we'lining,-trod deep into the dirt, by the left spoke of, slung across his body, just as Corhind-foot of his Rosinante inhumanly step- poral Trim went out of'the room.
ping upon thee as thou falledst;-buried ten  It is now proper, I think, quoth Dr. Slop
days in the mire,-raised up out of it by a (clearing up his looks) as we are in a conbe.ggar,-sold for a half-penny to a parish- dition to be of some service to Mrs. Shandy,
clerk, transferred to hisparson,- lost'forever to send up stairs to know how she goes on.
to thy own, thle -remainder of his days, —  I have ordered, answered my father, the
nor restored to his restless manes till' this old midwife to come down to us upon the
very moment that I tell the world the story. least difficulty;-for you must know,' Dr.'Can: the reader believe that this sermon Slop, continued my father, with a perplexed
of- Yorick's was preached at an assize, in, kind of' a smile upon his countenance, that
the cathedral of York, before a thousand by express treaty, solemnly ratified between
witnesses, ready to give oath of it,. by a me and my wife, you are no more than. ai.
certain prebendary of that church, and ac- auxiliary in this affair,-and not so -much
tu ally printed by him -when he had done,-  as that,-unless the Jean old mother o'tf 
1                                    6*




66                         LIFE AND OPINIONS
midwife above stairs cannot do without you. curtain shall be drawn up again, and my
-Women have th'eir particular fancies; uncle Toby, my father and Dr. Slop, shall
id in- points of this nature, continued my go on With their discourse, without any
father, Where they biear the whole burden, more interruption.
and suffer so much acute pain for the ad-  First, then, the matter which I have to
vantage of our families and the good of the remind you of, is this: —That from the spespecies, —they claima right of deciding, en cimens of singularity in my fathers notions
Souveraines, ini whose hands, and in what in the point of christian names, and that
fashion, they choose to undergo it.   other previous point thereto,-you was led,
They are in the right of it, —quth my I think, into an opinion,-(and I am sure I
uncle Toby.-But, Sitr replied Dr. Slop, said as much) that my father was a gentlenot taking notice of my uncle Toby's opinion, man altogether as odd and whimsical in
but turniig to my father, - they had bet- fifty other opinions. In truth, there was
ter govern in other points; —and a, father not a stage in the life of man, from the very
of a family, who wishes its perpetuity, mi first act of his begetting, —down to the lean
my opinion, had better exchange this pre- and slippered pantaloon in his second childrbgative with them, and give up some other ishness,,but he had some favorite notion to
rights in lieu of it.-I know not, quoth himself springing out of it, as sceptical,
my father, answerinfg a little too testily, to and as far out of the highway of thinking,
be quite- dispassionate in whathe said;-I as these two which have been explained.
know not, quoth he, what we have left to  -Mr. Shandy, my father, Sir, would see
give up in lieu of who shall bring our chil- nothing in the light in which others Placed
dren into the world, unless that,-of who it;-he placed things in his-own light;-he
slhall beget them.-One would almost would weigh nothing in common scales: —
give up' any thing, replied Dr. Slop. — I no, he was too refined a researcher to lie
beg your pardon, -answered my uncle Toby. open to so gross an imposition.-To come
-Sir, replied Dr. Slop, it would astonish at the exact weight of things in the scienyou to know what improvements We have tific steel-yard, thefulcrum, he would say,
made of late years in all branches of ob- sh6tiid be almost invisible, to avoid all fricstetrical'knowledge, but particularly in that tion from the popular tenets;-without this,
one single point of the safe and expedi- the minutie of philosophy, which would
tious extraction of the faetus,-which has always turn tl e balance, will have no weight
received such lights, that; for my part (hold- at all.: Knowledge, like matter, he would
ing up his hands) I declare, I wonder how affirni, was divisible in infinitum;-that
the world has-I wish, quoth my uncle the grains and scruples were as much a
Toby, you had seen what prodigious armies part of it, as the, gravitation of the whole
we had in'Flanders.                   world.-In a word, he would say, error was
error,-no matter where it fell-whether
_ —, *- -in a fraction,-or a pound,-'twas alike
fatal to Truth; and she was kept down at
-CHAP. XIX.               the bottom of her well, as inevitably by a
mistake in' the dust of a butterfly's wing,
I iAVE dropped the curtain over this -as in the disk of the sun, the moon, and
scene for a minute,-to remind you of one all the stars of Heaven put together.
thihg,-and to infbrrrt you of another.   He would often lament that it was for want
What I have to inform you, comes, I own, of considering this properly, and of applya little out of its due course;-for it should ing it skilfully to civil matters, as well as
have been told a hundred and fifty pages to speculative truths, that so many things
ago, but that I foresaw then'twould come in this world were out of joirnt;-that the
in paf hereafter, and be of more advantage political arch was giving way;-and that
here than elsewhere.-Writers had need the very foundations of our excellent coninooi before them, tc Keep p the spirit and stitution in church and state, were sosapped
connexion of what they have in hand.   as estimators had reported.
When these two things are done,-the   You cry out, he would say, we are X




OF TRISTRAM SHANDY.                              6't
ruined, undone people. Why 1 he would joined together:-I will therefore endeavor
ask, making use of the sorites or syllogism to do it justice,-and set it forth with all
of Zcno and Chrysippus, without knowing the perspicuity I am master of.
it belonged to them.-Why.  why are'we  My father set out upon the strength of
a ruined people?-Because we are corrupt- these two following axioms;
ed.-Whence is it, dear, Sir, that:we are  First, That an ounce of a man's own wit
corrupted?-Because we are needy; —our was worth a ton of other people's; and,
poverty, and not our wills, consent:-and:. Secondly, (which by the bye — was the
wherefore, he would add, are we needy? —groundwork of the first axiom, — though it
From the neglect, he wold. answer, ofour comes last) That every man's wit must
pence and our half-pence: —-our bank notes, come from every man's own soul, —and no
Sir, our guineas;,-nay, our shillings take other' body's.
tare of themselves.                     Now, as it was plain to my father, that'Tis the same, he would say, throughout all souls were by nature equal, —and that
the whole circle of the sciences; —the the great difference between the most acute
great, the established points of them, are and the most obtuse understanding,-was
not to be broke in upon.-The laws of na- from no original sharpness or bluntness of
ture will defend,themselves;-but error- one thinking substance above or-'below an(he: would add, looking earnestly at my other,-but arose merely from the lucky or
mother)-error, Sir, creeps in through the' unlucky organization of the body, in that
minute holes and small crevices which hu- part where the soul principally took up her
man nature leaves unguarded.          residence,-le had made it the object of
This turn of thinking in my father, is his inquiry to find out the identical place.
what I had to remind you of:-the point   Now, from the best accounts he had been
you are to be informed of, and which I have able to get of this matter, he was satisfied
reserved for this place, is as follows:-  it could not be where Des Cartes had fixed
Amongst the many and excellent reasons it, upon the top of the pineal gland of the
with which my father had urgedmy mother brain; which, as he philqsophized, formed
to accept of Dr.' Slop's assistance preferably a'cushion for her about the size of a marrowto that, of the old woman,-there was one pea; though to speak the truth, as so many
of a very singular nature; which, when he nerves did terminate all in that one place, —
had done arguing the matter with her- as a'twas no bad conjecture:-and my father
Christian, and came to argue it over again had certainly fallen with that great philosowith her as a philosopher, he had put his pher plump into the centre of the mistake,
whole strength to, depending indeed upon had it not been for my uncle Toby, who
it as his sheet-anchor.  It failed- him, rescued him out of it by a story he told
though' from no defect in the argument it- him of-a Walloon officer at the battle of
self: but that, do what he could, he was Landen, who had one part of his brains shot
not able for his soul to make her compre- away by a musket ball,-and another part
hend the drift of it.  Cursed'luck!-said of it taken out after by: French surgeon;
he to himself, one afternoon, as he walked and, after all, recovered, and did his duty
out of the rooom, after he had been stating; very well without it.
it for an hour andia half'to-her, to no  If death, said my) father, reasoning with
manner of purpose;-cursed luck! said he, himself, is nothing but the separation of the
biting his lip as he shut the door,-for a soul from the body; —and if it is true that
inan to be master of one of the finest chains people can walk about and do their business
of reasoning in nature,-and have a wife without brains,-then certes the- soul does
at the same time with such a head-piece, not inhabit there.-Q. E. D.
that he cannot hang up a single inference  As for that certain, very thin, subtl., ant
within side of it, to save his soul from de- very fragrant juice which Coglionissiano
struction!'Borri, the great Milanese physician, affirms,
This argument, though it was entirely in a letter to Bartholine, to have discovered
lost upon my mother,-had more weight in the cellula: of the occipital parts of the
with him than all his other arguments cerebellum, and which he likewise affirms




68


LIFE AND OPINIONS


to be the principal seat of the reasonable
soul (for, you must know, in these latter
and more enlightened ages, there are two
souls in every man living, —the one, according to the great Metheglingius, being called
the Animus; the other the Ania;)-as
for the opinion, I say, of B6rri,-my father
cpuld never subscribe to it by any means;
the very idea of so noble, so refined, so immaterial, and so exalted a being as the
Anima,' or even the Animus, taking up her
residence and sitting dabbling like a tadpole
all day long, both summer and winter,'in a
puddle,-or in a liquid of any kind, -how;thick or thin soever, he Would say,' shocked
his imagination; he would scarce give the
doctrine a hearing.
What therefore seemed the least liable
to objections' of any was, that the chief
sensorium, or head-quarters of the'soul,
and to which place all intelligences were
referred, and from whence all her mandates
were issued,-was in, or near, the cerebellum,-or rather somewhere about the
medulla oblongata, wherein it was generally agreed by Dutch anatomists, that all'
the minute nerves'from all the organs of
the seven senses concentrated, like streets
and winding alleys, into a square.
So far there was nothing singular in my
father's opinion, —he had the best of philosophers, of all ages and climates, to' go
along with him. —-But here he toolk a road
of his own, setting up anothei Shandean
hypothesis upon these corner-stones they
had laid for him-and which said hypothesis
equally stood its ground; whether the subtilty and fineness'of the soul depended upon
the temperature and clearness of the said
liquor, or of the finer net-work and texture
i n'the cerebellum itself; which opinion' he
favored.
He maintained, that next to the due care
to be taken in the act of propagation of each
individual, which required all the thought
In the world, as it laid the foundation of
this incomprehensible'contexture, in which
wit, memory, fancy, eloquence, and what is
usually meant by the name of good natural
parts, do consist;-that the next to this and
his christian name, which were the'two
o"ginal and most efficacious causes of all:
-that the third cause, or rather what logictans call the Causa size qua non, and with



out which all that was done was of no m.A
ner of significance, —was the preservattuir
of this delicate and fine-spun web, from tne
havoc which was generally made in it by
the violent compression and crush which
the head was made to undergo,' by the nonsensical method of bringing us into the
world by that foremost.
— This requires explanation.
My father, who dipped into all kinds of
books, upon looking into Lithopcedus Senonesis de Portu difficili*, published by Adrianus Smelvgot, had found out; that the lax
and pliable-state of a'child's head in parturition,'the bones of the cranium having no
sutures at that time, was such',-that by
force of the woman's efforts,' which, in
strong labor-pains, was equal, upon an average, to- the weight of 470 pounds avoirdupois acting perpendicularly upon it; —it
so happened, that tin forty-nine instances
out of fifty, the said head was compressed
and moulded into the shape of an oblong
conical- piece of dough,: such as a pastrycook generally rolls up, in order to make a
pye of-Good God! cried my father, what
havoc and deptructio'nmust this make in
the infinitely fine and tender texture of the
cerebellum!-Or -if there is such a juice as
Borri pretends,-is it not enough to make
the- clearest liquid in the world both feculent and'mothery l
But how great was his apprehension,
when he farther understood,' that this force
acting upon' the very vertex of the head,
not onlyinjured the brain itself, or cerebrum,
-but that it necessarily squeezed and propelled the cerebrum towards the cerebellum,
which was the immediate seat of the understanding! — Angels and ministers of
grace defend us"! cried my father,-can any
soul withstand this shock?-No wonder the
intellectual web is so rent and tattered as
we see it; and that so many of our best


I


* The author is here twice mistaken; for Lithopadus
should be wrote thus: Lihopcedii Senoneisis Icon.
The second mistake is, that this Lithopedus is iot'an
author, but a drawing of a petrified child. The account of this, published by Athosius, 1580, may be
seen at the end of Cordseus's worksin Spachius. Mr.
Tristram Shandy has been led into this error either
from seeing Lithopedus's name of late in a catalogue
of learned writers in Dr. -—, or by mistaking Luntopadus for Trinecavellius,-from the too great sinilitude of the names.




OF TRISTRAM SHANDY.


69


heads are no better than a puzzled skein of
silk,-all perplexity, —all confusion withinside.
But when my father read on, and was let
into the secret, that wheil a -child was
turned topsy-turvy, which was easy for an
operator to'do, and was extracted by the
feet;-that instead of the cerebrum being
propelled  towards the cerebellum, —the
cerebellum, on the contrary, was propelled
simply towards the cerebrum, where it
could do no manner of hurt: —By Heavens!
criel he, the world is in conspiracy to drive
out what little wit God has given us,-and
the professors of the obstetric art are listed
into the same conspiracy.-What is it to
me which end of my son comes foremost
into the world, provided all goes right after,
and his cerebellum escapes uncrushed.
It is the nature of an hypothesis, when
once a man has conceived it, that it assimilates every thing to itself, as-proper nourishment; and from the first moment of your
begetting it, it generally grows the stronger
by every thing you see, hear, read, or understand. This is of great use.
When my father was gone with this
about a month, there was scarce a phenomenon of stupidity or of genius, which he
could not readily solve by it:-it accounted
for the eldest son being the greatest blockhead in the family.- Poor devil, he would
say, he made way for the capacity of his
younger brothers. — It unriddled the observations of drivellers and  monstrous
heads,-showing, a priori, it could not be
otherwise,-unless **** I don't know what.
It wonderfully explained and accounted for
the acumen of the Asiatic genius, and that
sprightlier turn, and a more penetrating
intuition of minds, in warmer climates; not
from the loose and commonplace solution
of a cleat sky, and a more perpetual sunshine, &c.-which, for aught he knew,
might as;well rarefy and dilute the faculties of the soul into nothing, by one extreme,-as they are condensed in colder
climates by the other;-but he traced'the
affair up to its spring-head;-showed that,
in warmer climates, nature had laid a
lighter tax upon the fairest parts of the
creation;-their pleasures more;-the necessity of their pains less, insomuch that
the pressure and resistance upon the' vertex


was so slight, that the whole organization
of the cerebellum was preserved; —nay; he
did not believe, in natural births, that so
much as a single thread of the net-work
was broke or displaced,-so that the soul
might just act as she liked.
When my father had got so far, —what
a blaze of light did the accounts of the
Caesarian section, and of the towering geniuses who had come safe into the world
by it, cast upon this hypothesis! Here you
see, he would say, there was no injury done
to the sensorium:-no pressure of the head
against the pelvis;-no'propulsion of the
cerebrum towards the cerebellum, either by
the os pubis on this side, or the os coxygis
on that;-and pray, what tvere the happy consequences?-Why, Sir, your Julius
Caesar, who gave' the operation a name;and, your Hermes Trismegistus, who was
born so before ever the operation hrd a
name;-your Scipio Africanus; your:Manlius Torquatus; our Edward the Sixth,who, had he lived, would have done the
same honor to the hypothesis. —These,
and many more who figured high in the
annals of fame,-all came side-way, Sir
into the world.
The incision of the abdomen and uterus
ran for six weeks together in my father's
head;-he had read, and was satisfied, that
wounds in the epigastrium, and those in
the matrix, were not mortal;-so that the
belly of the mother might be opened extremely well to give a passage to the child.
-He mentioned the thing one afternoon to
my mother,-merely as a matter of fact;
but seeing her turn as pale as ashes at the
very mention of it, as much as the operation
flattered his hopes,-he thought it as well
to say no more of it,-contenting himself
with admiring-what he thought was to no
purpose to propose.
This was, my father, Mr. Shandy's hypothesis; concerning which I have only to
add, that my brother Bobby did as great
honor to it (whatever he did to the family)
as any one of the great heroes we spoke of:
for happening not only to be christened, as
I told you, but to be born too, when my
father was at Epsom, —being moreover my
mother's first child,-coming into the world
with his head foremost-and turning out
afterwards a lad of wonderful slow parts,



To


LIFE AND OPINIONS, &c.


my father spelt all these together into- his
opinion; and as he had failed at one. end,he was determined. to try the other..This was not to be expected from one. of
the sisterhood, who are not easily to be put
out of their way; —and was therefore one
of my father's; great. reasons:in favor of a
man of science, —-_whom.he could better
deal with.
Of all men in the:world, Dr. Slop was
the fittest for my faqther's purpose.:-.for
though his,new-invented forceps wasthe
armor he had proved, and what he maintained to be the safest instrument of deliverance, yet, it seems, he had scattered a
ord.or two in his book, in favor of the
very thing which ran in my father's fancy;
-though not with a view to the soul's good
in extricating by the feet, as was my
father's system,-but. for reasons merely
obstetrical.
This will account for the coalition betwixt my father and Dr., Slop, in the ensuing discourse, whichwent a little hard
against my. uncle Tby. —-In what manner a plain man,, with nothing but common
sense, could bear up. against two such allies


in science,-is hard to conceive.-You may
conjecture upon it, if you please; —and
whilst your imagination' is in, motion, you
may epcourage it to go on, and discover by
what causes and effects in nature it could
come to pass, that my uncle Toby got his
modesty by the wound he received upon his
groin.-You may raise a system to account
for the loss of my nose by marriage-articles,-and show the world how-.,it could
happen, that I should:have the misfortune,
to be called TRISTRAM, in opposition to my
father's hypothesis, and the wish of the
whole family, godfathers'and godmothers
not excepted. —These, with fifty other
points left unravelled, you may endeavor
to solve, if you have time; —but I, tell you
beforehand it will' be in vain, for not the
sage Alquise, the magician in Don Belianis
of Greece, nor the no less famous Urganda
the:sorceress, his wife, (were they alive)
could pretend to come within a league of
the truth.
The reader will be content to wait for a
full explanation of these fiatters till the
next year,-when a series of things will
be laid open which he little expects.




THE
LIFE AND OPINIONS
OF
criotV~t   11AZI
~~tr~stz raltl  tiaka-.

GENTLEMAN.


CHAP. I.
-" I WISH, Dr. Slop," quoth my uncle
Toby (repeating his'-wish for Dr. Slop a
second time, and with a degree of more
zeal and earnestness in his manner of wishing' than he had wished at first*)-" I
wish, Dr. Slop," quoth my uncle Toby,
"you had seen what prodigious armies we
had in Flanders."
My uncle Toby's wish did Dr. Slop a
disservice which his heart'-never intended
any man;-Sir, it confounded him,-and
thereby putting his ideas first into confusion, and then to flight, he could not rally
them again for the soul of him.
In all disputes,-male or female,-whether for honor, for profit, or for love,-it
makes no difference in the case;-nothing
is more dangerous, Madam, than a wish
coming sideways in this unexpected manner
upon a man. The safest way in general to
take off the force'of his wish, is for the
party wish'd at, instantly to get upon his
legs,-and wish the wisher something in
return, of pretty near the same value;-so
balancing the account upon the spot, you
stand as you were:-nay, sometimes gain
the advantage of the attack by it.
This will be fully illustrated to the worid
in my chapter of wishes.Dr. Slop did not understand the nature
of this defence-he was puzzled with it:and it put an entire stop to the dispute for
four minutes and a half; —five had been
fatal to it;-my father saw the danger.:the dispute was one of the most interesting
disputes in the world, "whether the child
"of his prayers and endeavors should be


" born without a head, or with one.' —He
waited to the last moment, to allow Dr
Slop, in whose behalf the wish was made,
his right of returning it; but perceiving,
I say, that he was confounded, and continued looking. with that perplexed vacuity of eye which puzzled souls generally.stare with, —first in my uncle Toby's
face,-then in his, —then up-then down,then east,-east and by east, and so on,coasting it along by the plinth, of the wainscot till he had got to.the opposite point of
the compass,-and that he had actually begun to count the brass nails upon the arm
of his chair, my father thought there was
no time to be lost with my uncle Toby; so
took up the discourse as follows:CHAP. II.
-" WHAT prodigious armies you had in
Flanders!".Brother Toby, replied my father, taking
his wig from off his head with his right
hand, and with his left pulling out a striped
India handkerchief from his right coatpocket, in order to rub his head, as he
urged the point with my uncle Toby. — 
-Now, in this I think my. father was
much to blame: and I will give you my
reasons for it.
Matters of no more seeming consequence
in themselves than "whether my father
"should have taken off his wig with his
"right hand or with his4eft,"-have divided
the greatest kingdoms, and made the crowns
of the monarchs who governed them, )
totter upon their heads. —But need-I-tell
you, Sir, that the circumstances with which


* Vide page 66.




72


LIFE AND OPINIONS


every thing in this world is begirt, give
every thing in this world its size and shape
-and by tightening it, or relaxing it, this
way or'that, make the thing to be, what it
is,-great,-little,- good,- bad,- indifferent or hot indifferent, just as the case
happens.
As my father's India handkerchief was
m his right coat-pocket, he should by no
means have suffered his right hand to have
got engaged: on the contrary, instead of
taking off his wig with it, as he did, he
ought.to have committed that entirely to
the left: and then, when the natural exigency my father-was under of rubbing his
nead, called out for his handkerchief, he
would have had nothing in the world: to
have done, but to have put his right hand
into his right coat-pocket and taken it out;
-which he might have done without any
violence, or the least ungraceful twist in
any one tendon or muscle of his whole body.
In this case (unless, indeed, my father
had been resolved to make a fool of himself
by holding the wig stiff in his left hand,or by making some nonsensical angle or
other at his elbow-joint, or arm-pit)-his
whole attitude had- been easy,-natural,unforced. Reynolds himself,.as great and
graceful as he paints, might have painted
him as he sat.
Now, as my father managed this matter,
-consider what a devil of a figure my
father made of himself.
In the latter end of Queen Anne's reign,
and in the beginning of the reign of King
George the First,-" Coat-pockets were cut
" very low down in the'-skirt."-I need say
no more; —thefather of. mischief, had lie
been hammering at it a month, could not
have contrived a worse fashion for one in
my father's'situation.
CHAP. III.
LT was not an easy matter, in any king's
reign (unless you were as lean a subject as
myself), to have forced your hand diagonally, quite across your whole body, so as
to gain the bottom of your opposite coatl)cket.. —In the year one thousand seven
rindred and eighteen, when this happened,


it was extremely difficult; so that when
my uncle Toby discovered the transverse
zig-zaggery of my father's approaches towards it, it instantly brought into his mind
those he had done duty in, before the gate
of St. Nicholas;-theidea of which drew off
his attention so entirely from the subject in
debate, that he had got his right hand to
the bell to ring up Trim to go and fetch
his map of Namur, and his compasses and
sector along with it, to measure the returning angles of the traverses of that attack?but particularly of that one where he receiveA his wound upon his groin.
My father knit his brows,-and as he knit
them, all the blood in his body seemed to
rush up into his face-my uncle Toby dismounted immediately.
-I did not apprehend your uncle Toby
was on horseback. -
CHAP IV.
A MAN'S body and his mind, with the utmost reverence to both I speak it, are exactly like a jerkin, and a'jerkin's lining;rumple.the one, —you rumple the other.
There is one certain exception however in
this case, and that is, when you are so fortunate a fellow as to have had your jerkin
made of gum-taffeta, and the body-lining to
it of a sarcenet, or thin Persian.
Zeno, Cleanthes, Diogenes, Babylonius,
Dionysius, Heracleotes, Antipater, Panaetius, and Possidonius, amongst the Greeks;
-Cato, and Varro, and Seneca, amongst
the Romans;-Pantenus, and Clemens A1exandrinus, and Montaigne, amongst the
Christians; and a score and a halfof good,
honest,- unthinking, Shandean people as
ever lived,- whose names I cannot recollect,
-all pretended that their jerkins were
made after this fashion; —you might have
rumpled and crumpled, and doubled and
creased, and fretted, and fridged the outside
of them all to pieces;-in short, you might
have play'd the very devil with them,n and
at the same time, not one'of the insides of
them  would have been one button the
worse, for all you had done to them.
I believe in my conscience that mine is
made up somewhat after this sort:-for




OF TRISTRAM SHANDY.. 


738


never poor jerkin has been tickled off at
such a rate as it has been these last nine
months together,-and yet I declare, the
lining to it,-as far as I am' a judge'of the
matter, —is not a three-penny piece the
worse;-pell-mell', helter skelter, ding-dong,
cut and thrust, back stroke and fore stroke,
side way and long way, have they been
trimming it for me:-had there been the
least gumminess in my lining, by Heaven!
it had all of it, long ago, been frayed and
fretted to a thread.
-*    You Messrs. the Monthly Revi ewers!-how could you cut and tslash my
jerkin as you did? —how did you know but
you would cut my lining too?
Heartily and — from my soul, to the protection of that Being who will injure none
of us, do I recommend you and your affairs,
-so God bless you;-only next month, if
any one of you should gnash his teeth, and
storm and rage at me, as some of you did
last May (in which I remember the weather
was very hot)-don't- be exasperated if I
pass it by again with good temper,-being
determined as lotrg as I live or Write (which
in my case means the same thing,) never
to give the honest gentleman a worse word
or a- orse wish than my uncle TjLy gave
the fly which buzz'd about his nose all din-.ner-time:-" Go, —go, poor devil," quoth
he;-" get thee gone:-why should I hurt
"thee?-This world is surely wide enough
"to hold both thee and me."
CHAP. V.
ANY man, Madam, reasoning upwards,
and observing the prodigious effusion of
blood in my father's countenance;:-by
means of which (as all the blood in his body
seemed to rush into his face, as I told you,)
he must have reddened, pictorically and
scientifically speaking, six whole tints and
a half, if not a full octave above his natural
color;-any man, Madam, but my uncle
Toby, who had observed this,-together
with the violent knitting' of my father's
brows,'and the extravagant contortion of
his body during the whole affair,-would
have concluded my father in a. rage.; and
taking that for granted,-had he been a
K


lover of such kind 6f concord as arises from
two such instruments being put into exact
tune,-he would instantly have screw'd up
his to the same pitch;-and then the devil
and all' had broke loose-the whole piece,
Madam, must have been played off like the
sixth of Avison Scarlatti- con furia,-like
mad.-Grant me patience! —What has con
furia,-con strepito,-or any other hurlyburly whatever, to do with harmony?
Any man, I say, Madam, but my uncle
Toby, theIbenignity of whose heart' inter
preted every motion of the body in the
kindest sense the motion would admit of.
would have concluded my father angry,
and blamed him too.,My' uncle Toby
blamed nothing but the. tailor who cut the
pocket-hole;-so sitting still till my father
had got his handkerchief out of it, and
looking'all the time up in his face with inexpressible good-will,-my father at length
went on as followsCHAP. VI.
--   WHAT prodigious armies you had
in Flanders!"
— Brother Toby, quoth my father, I do
believe thee to be as honesta man, and with
as good"and as upright a heart as ever God
created;-nor is it thy fault, if all the chil
dren which have been, may, can,, shall, will,
or ought to be begotten, come with.. their
heads foremost into the world:-but believe
me, dear Toby, the accidents which unavoidably waylay. them, not only in the article'of our begetting'em,-though these, in
my opinion, are well worth considering,but the dangers and difficulties our children
are beset with, after they are got forth into'
the' world, are enow; —little need is there
to expose them to unnecessary ones in their
passage to it.-Are these dangers, quoth
my uncle Toby, laying his hand upon my
father's knee, and looking up seriously ir
his face for an answer,-are these dangers
greater now-a-days, brother, than in times
past —Brother Toby, answered my father,
if a child was but fairly begot, and born
alive, and healthy4 and the mother did well
after it, —our forefathers never looked farther.-My uncle Toby instant'y withdrew.




i 4: TLIFE AND OPINIONS


his hand from my father's.knee, reclined his
body gently.back in his chair' raised his
head till he could just see the-cornice of the
room, and then directing the buccinatory
muscles along his cheeks, and the obicular
muscles around his lips to do their duty,he whistled Lillibullero.
CHAP. VIL.
WHILST my uncle Toby was.whistling
Lillibullero to my father, —Dr. Slop was
stamping, and cursing and damning at Obadiah at a most dreadful rate.-' It would
have done your heart good, and cured you,
Sir, for ever, of the vile sin of swearing, to
have'heard him. I am determined, therefore,
to relate the whole affair to you.
When Dr. Slop's maid delivered the.
green baize bag with her master's instruments in it, to Obadiah, she very sensibly
exhorted him to put his head and one arm
through the strings, and ride with it slung
across his body. So undoing. the bow-knot,
to lengthen the strings for him, without any
more ado, she helped him on with it. However, as this, in some measure, unguar'ded
the mouth of the bag; lest any"thing-should
bolt out in galloping back,at.the speed Obadiah threatened, they concluded to take it
off again: and in the great care and caution
of their hearts, they had- taken the two
strings and tied them close (pursing up the
mouth of the bag first) with half a dozen
hard knots,- each of which Obadiah, to make
all Safe, had twitched and drawn together
with all the strength of his body.
This answered all that Obadiah and the
maid intended; but was no remedy against
some evils which neither he or she foresaw.
The instruments, it seems, as'tight as the
bag.was tied above, had so-much room to
play-in it, towards.the- bottom (the shape of
the bag being conical) that Obadiah could
not.make a trot of it, but with such a terrible jingle, what with the tire-tRte, fdrceps,
and. squirt, as would have been enough,
had Hymen been taking a jaunt that way,
to have frightened him out of the country;
but wnen Obadiah accelerated his motion,
and from a plan. trot essayed to prick his
coach-horse into a full gallop,-by Heaven!
8hr, the jingle was incredible. 


As Obadiah bad-a vife:4nd-three - coil-dren,1-the. turpitude of:fornication, and. the
many other political ill conse   f this,g giieveronceenteredhis'brain,; —he
had.-however-.'his objection, which, came
hom e to himself, and we' ighed with him, as
it:has oftentimes done with the greatest
patriots.    The poorfellow, Sir, -'was not
able to hear himself whistle."
CHAP. VIII.
As Obadiah- loved wifid-music -preferably
to all the instrumental music he carried
with him,--,7he very,. conside' tel set'his
-imagination'to work, to.contrive aind.10 inVent, by what means be should put himself
in a. coindition,,of enjoying it'in all distresses (except musical) where
small -cords are W'antednothing is so apt to
enter a man's head as his hat-band -.Abe
philosophy: of this is so near the. surfacer
scornto enter into.it.As.Obddiah's was a mixed case,:
mark, Sirsi, I say, a mixed, case; for it was
obstetrical,-. sci-p-tical, squirtical, papistical-. and as far as the co-tich-hors-e was concerned in -it -cabalistical,-and only partly
musical,:-Obadiah -,made no scruple of
availing himself of the first expedient wbicb
offered';., so taking hold of the bag and' in
struments, and gripin them- hard together
9
with — one hand, and with the finger and
thumb of the other putting -the end of the
hat-band b6iw' ixt his te6tb, and then slipping
his hand down to the, m idAle of it -he tied
and cross-tied them- all fast together 60ni
one end to the. other -(as you would cord a
trunk) with -such -a multiplicity of roundabouts'and.intricate cross-4urns, With a hard
knot at every intersection or -point where
the strings met,-that Dr.. Slop. must have
had three-fifths of Job's patien 66 at least to
have unloosed them.-l'think, in my con'science that had Nature been in oheof-her
nimble moods and in humor for such a contest —and she and Dr. Slop -both fairl
y
started together,-there is no man-living
who'bad seen the bag with all that Obadiah
had done to it,-and known likewise the
great speed the. Goddess can make when
she thinks             41     e,pro er,. who wo  d hav had tho


As Obadiah had a wife:and three cnildren,-the turpitude of fornication, and the
many other political ill consequences of this
jingling, never once entered his brain;-he
had. however.'his objection, which came
home to himself, and weighed with him, as
it has oftentimes done with the greatest
patriots..-" The poor fellow, Sir, was not
"able to hear himself whistle."
CHAP. VIII.
As Obadiah loved wind-music preferably
to all the instrumental music he carried
with him,-he very considerately set his
imagination to work, to contrive and.'to invent by what means he should put himself
in a condition.of enjoying it.'in all distresses (except musical) where
small cords are wanted, nothing is so apt to
enter a man's head as his hat-band:.-the
philosophy of this is so near the surface,-I
scorn to enter into it.
As.Obadiah's was a mixed case,: 
mark, Sirs, —I say, a mixed case; for it was
obstetrical,-scrip-tical, squirtical, papistical- and as far as. the coach-horse was concerned in it,-cabalistical,-and only partly
musical:-Obadiah -made no scruple of
availing himself of the first expedient which
offered'; so taking hold of the bag and in*
struments, and griping them hard together
with one hand, and with the finger and
thumb of the other,. putting the end of the
hat-band bktwixt his teeth, and then slipping
his hand down to the middle of it, -he tied
and cross-tied them- all fast together from
one end to the. other (as you would cord a
trunk) with such a multiplicity of roundabouts and.intricate cross-!turns, with a hard
knot at every intersection or point where
the strings met,-that Dr. Slop. must have
had three-fifths of Job's patience at least to
have unloosed them. —I'think, in my conscience, that had Nature been in oneof'her
nimble moods, and in humor for such a contest,-and she and Dr. Slop both fairly
started together, —there is no man living
who had seen the bag with all that Obadiah
had done to it,-and known likewise the
great speed the Goddess can make when
she thinks proper,. who would have had the




OF TRATRHAM:SHANDY. 
east doubt remaining in his mind-which slip-knots,-because in the course of my
Df the two would have carried off the prize. life and opinions,,-my opinions concerning
My mother, Madam, had been delivered them will come in more properly when-I
sooner than the green bag infallibly-at mention the catastrophe of my great-uncle
least by twenty knots.- Sport of small'Mr. Hammond Shandy,-a little man, —but
accidents, Tristram Shandy! that thou art, of high fancy;-he rushed into the Duke
and ever will be! had that trial been made of Monmouth's affair:-nor, secondly, in
for thee, and it was fifty to one but it had, this place, do I mean that particular species
-thy affairs had not been so depress'd (at of knots called bow-knots;-there is so
least by the depression of thy nose) as they little address, or skill, or patience required
have been; nor had the fortunes of thy in the unloosing them,-that they are below
house and the occasions of making them, my giving any opinion at all about them.
which have so often presented themselves -But by the knots I am speaking of, may.
in the course of thy life, to thee, been so it please your Reverences to believe, that
often, so vexatiously, so tamely, so irrevo- I mean good, honest, devilish tight, hard
cably abandoned-as thou hast been forced knots, made bona fide, as Obadiah made his:
to leave them;-but'tis over,-all but the -in which there is no quibbling provision
account of'em, which cannot be given to made by the duplication and return of the
the curious till I am got out into the world. two ends of the strings through the annulus
or noose made by the second implication of."""a-'them,-to get them slipp'd and undone by.
H —I hope you apprehend me.
CHP. IX.     In the case of these knots then, and of
GREAT wits jump:-for the moment Dr. the several obstructions, which, may it
Slop cast his eyes upon his bag (which he please your Reverences, such knots cast in
had not done till the dispute with my uncle our way in getting- through life,-every
Toby about midwifery put him in mind of hasty man can whip out his pen-knife and
it) the very same thought occurred.-'Tis cut through them.-'Tis wrong. Believe
God's mercy, quoth he (to himself) that Mrs. me, Sirs, the most virtuous way, and which
Shandy has had so bad a time of it, else she both reason and conscience dictate,-is to
might have been brought to bed seven times take our teeth or our fingers to them.-Dr.
told, before one half of these knots could Slop had lost his' teeth-his favorite inhave been got untied.-But here you must strument, by extracting in a wrong direcdistinguish:-the thought floated only in tion, or by some misapplication of it, unforDr. Slop's mind, without sail or ballast to tunately slipping, he had formerly, in a
it, as a simple proposition; millions of hard labor, knock'd out three of the best
which, as your Worship knows, are every of them with the handle of it:-  he tried
day swimming quietly in the middle of the his fingers; —alas, the nails of his fingers
thin juice of a man's understanding, with- and thumbs were cut close. — The deuce
out being carried backwards or forwards, take it! I can make nothing of it either
till some little gusts of passion or interest way, cried Dr. Slop.- The trampling
drive them to one side.               over-head near my mother's bed-side inA sudden trampling in the room above, creased.-Pox take the fellow! I si  never
near my mother's bed, did the proposition get the knots untied as long as liK.-,Iy
the very service I am speaking of. By all mother gave a groan.-Lend,melour
that's unfortunate, quoth Dr. Slop, unless I pen-knife-I must e'en cut the l-Pts at
make haste, the thing will actually befall last.-Pugh!-psha!-Lord i I have lt my
me as it is.                          thumb quite across to the very bone.-Curse
the fellow-if there was not another manmidwife within fifty miles-I am undone
for this bout-I wish the scoundrel hang'd
-I wish he was shot-I wish all the devils
IN the case of knots; by which, in the first in hell had him for a blockhead!- 
place, I would not be understood to mean  My father had a great respect for Oba




76                        LIFE AND OPINIONS
diah, and could not bear to hear him dispos- own discretio
ed of in such a manner:-he had moreover composed (th
some little respect for himself,-and could of swearing
as ill bear with-the indignity offered to lowest to thi
himself in it.                         could possil
Had Dr. Slop cut any part about him but forms being
his thumb,-my father had pass'd it by- such moreov(
his prudence had triumphed:-as it was, he them ever b
was determined to have his revenge,    within his re
Small curses, Dr. Slop, upon great occa- apprehended,
sions, quoth my father (condoling with him thing was ev
first upon the accident) are but so much ecuted.-I be
waste of our strength and soul's health to father; I we
no manner of purpose.  I own it, replied one of them 1
Dr. Slop.-  They are like sparrow-shot, ing, whilst hi
quoth my uncle Toby (suspending his upon the she.
whistling) fired against a bastion.-They member rigi
serve, continued my father, to stir the hu- the thumb.mors-but carry off none -of their acri- the devil ta
mony;-for my own part, I seldom swear swered my I
or curse at all-I hold it bad;-but if I fall vice, Dr. Slo
into it by surprise, I generally retain so it aloud.-Sc
much presence of mind (right, quoth my a form of ex
uncle Toby,) as to make it answer my pur- of Rome, a
pose;-that is, I swear on till I find myself was curious i
easy. A wise and a just man however out of the
would always endeavor to proportion the Rochester, w
vent given to these humors, not only to the with a most
degree of them stirring within himself,- voice, which
but to the size and ill intent of the offence himself,-he
upon which they are to fall.-"Injuries -   Dr. S]o
come only from the heart,"-quoth my un- corner of his
cle Toby.-   For this reason, continued face, though
mpy father, with the most Cervantic gravity, aloud, as follc
I have the greatest veneration in the world Lillibullero a
for that gentleman, who, in distrust of his
TEXTUS DE ECCLESIA ROFFENSI, PER
ERNULFUM EPISCOPUM.
CAP. XI.
FXCOMMUNICATIO.*
Eaauctoritate Dei Omnipotentis, Patris,  "By the al
et Filii et Spiritus Sancti, et sanctorum  "Father, Soi
Panonuin, sanctmque et intemeratas Virginis "holy canons
Dei genetricis Marine,-               "Mary, mot]


n in this point, sat down and
tat is, at his leisure) fit forms
suitable to all cases, from the
e highest provocations which
sly happen to him;-which
well considered by him, and
er as he could stand to, he kept
y him on the chimney-piece,
ach, ready for use.-I never,replied Dr. Slop, that such a
er thought of, —much less exeg your pardon, answered my
is reading, though not using,
to my brother Toby, this morne pour'd out the tea:-'tis here
If over my head: but if I reit,'tis too violent for a cut of
-Not at all, quoth Dr. Slopke the fellow.-  Then, anather,'tis much at your serp,-on condition you will read
arising up and reaching down:communication of the church
copy of which my father (who.i his collections) had procured
leger-book' of the church of
nrit by Ernulphus the bishop,affected seriousness of look and
might have cajoled Ernulphus
put it into Dr. Slop's hands.
p wrapt his thumb. up in the
handkerchief, and with a wry
without any suspicion, read
iws,-my uncle Toby whistling
Is loud as he could all the time.


CHAP. XL
uthority of God Almighty, the
i, and Holy Ghost, and of the
s, and of the undefiled Virgin
her and patroness of our Sa

* As tne genuineness of the consultation of the Sorbonne upon the question of Baptism, was doubted by
some and denied by others,-'twas thought proper to print the original of this excommunication: for the
copy ot which Mr. Snandy returns thanks to the chapter-clerk of the dean and chapter of Rochester.




OF TRISTRAM. SHANDY.


77


-   Atqde,mniuro -,lestium virtutum,
angelorum, archangelorum, thronorum, doininationum, protestatuum, cherubin ac
seraphin, & sanctorum patriarcharum, prophetarum, & omnium apostolorum & evangelistarum, and sanctorum innocentum, qui
in conspectu Agni Sancti digni inventi
sunt canticumn cantare novum, et sanctorum
martyrum  &  sanctorum  confessorum, et
sanctarum virginum, atque omnium simul
sanctorum et electorum Dei,-Excommunivel  os       s
camus, et anathematizamus hunc furem,
vel os           s
vel hunc malefactorem, N.N. et a liminibus'annte Tfmli "],"l ncm.Pnn P.itraTu'nm._ et mfep'rnil


vior."-I think there is no necessity, quoth
Dr. Slop, dropping the paper down to his
knee, and addressing himself to my father.
-as you have read it over, Sir, so lately, tc
read now aloud;-and as Captain Shandy'
seems to have no great inclination to hear
it,-I may as well read it to myself. —
That's contrary to treaty, replied my father
-Besides, there is something so whimsical,
especially in the latter part of it, I should
grieve to lose the pleasure of a second reading.-Dr. Slop did not altogether like it;
but my uncle Toby offering at that instant
to give over whistling, and read it himself
to them,-Dr. Slop thought he might as
well read it, under the cover of my uncle
Toby's whistling-as suffer my uncle Toby
to read it alone:-so raising up the paper
to his face, and holding it quite parallel to
it, in order to hide his chagrin,-he read it
aloud, as follows-my uncle Toby whistlng
Lillibullero, though not quite so loud as
before.
"By the authority of God Almighty, the
"Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, and of the
"undefiled Virgin Mary, mother and pa"troness of our Savior, and of all the ce"lestial virtues, angels, archangels, thrones,
"dominions, powers, cherubims and sera" phims, and of all the holy patriarchs, pro"phets, and of all the apostles dnd evan"gelists, and of the holy innocents, who in
"the sight of the Holy Lamb, are found
"worthy to sing the new song of the holy
"martyrs and holy confessors, and of the
"holy virgins, and of all the saints, to"gether with the holy and elect of God,"May he" (Obadiah) "be damn'd" (for tying these knots)-" We excommunicate
"and anathematize him; and from the
"thresholds of the holy church of God A1"mighty we sequester him, that he may be
"tormented, disposed, and delivered over
"with Dathan and Abiram, and with those
"who say unto the Lord God, Depart from
"us, we desire none of thy, ways. And as
"fire is quenched with water, so let the
"light of him be put out for evermore, un"less it shall repent him" (Obadiah, of tnh
knots which he has tied) "and make sati.,"faction!" (for them) "Amen."
"May the Father who created man, curst.
"him.-May the Son wno suffered for us,
"curse him!-   M.ay the Holv Ghost, woo
7*


vel i         n
suppliciis excruciandus, mancipetur, cum
Dathan et Abiram, et cum his qui dixerunt
Domino Deo, Recede a nobis, scientiam
viarum tuarum nolumus: et sicut aqua ignis
vel eorum
sxtinguitur, sic extinguatur, lucerna ejus in
n
secula seculorum nisi respuerit, et ad satisn
factionem venerit. Amen.
cs
Maledicant illum Deus Pater qui hominem


OS
creavit. Maledicat illim Dei Filius qui pro




LIFE AND OPINIONS


OS
homine passus est. Maledicat illum Spiritus
Sanctus qui in baptismo effusus est.-'Maleos
dicat illum sancta crux, quam Christus pro
nostra salute hostem triumphans ascendit.
os
Maledicat illum sancta Dei genetrix et
os
perpetua Virgo Maria. Maledicat illum
sanctus Michael, animarum susceptor saos,rarum. Maledicant illum omnes angeli et
archangeli, principatus et potestates, omnesque militia ccelestes.
os
Maledicat iilum patriarcharum et propheos
taruin laudabilis numerus. Ma.edicantillum
sanctus Johannes Precursor et Baptista
Christi, et sanctus Petrus, et sanctus Paulus,
atque sanctus Andreas, omnesque Christi
apostoli, simul et cUeteri discipuli quatuor
quoque evangelists, qui sua predicatione
rmundum universum converterunt. Maledios
cat ilium cuneus martyrum et confessorum
mirificus, qui Deo bonis operibus placitus
Inventus est.
OS
Maledicant illum  sacrarum  virginum
hlori, quae mundi vana causa honoris Christi
os
tcspuenda contempserunt. Maledicant ilium
tnmnes sancti qui ab initio mundi usque in
tinem seculi Deo dilecti inveniuntur.
os
Maledicant illum cmeli et terra, et omnia
sancta in eis manentia.
i  n              n
Maledictus sit ubicunque, fuerit, sive in
domo, sive in agro, sive in via, sive in semita,
slie in silva, sive in aqua, sive in ecclesia.
i n
Maledictus sit vivendo, moriendo,-,nanducando, bibendo, suriendo, sitiendo,
ejunando, dormitando, dormiendo, vigilando,
anmbulanae., stando. sedendo, jacendo, oper

"was given to us in baptism, curse him!
(Obadiah) —   "May the holy cross which
"Christ, for our salvation, triumphing over
"his enemies, ascended, curse him!
"May the holy and eternal Virgin Mary,
"mother of God, curse him!-May St.
"Michael, the advocate of holy souls, curse
"him!-    May all the angels and arch"angels, principalities and powers, and all
"the heavenly armies, curse him!" [Our
armies swore terribly in Flanders, cried my
uncle Toby,-but nothing to this.- For
my own part, I could not have a heart to
curse my dog so.]
"May the praiseworthy multitude of
"patriarchs and prophets curse him!
" May St. John, the Precursor, and St.
"John the Baptist, and St. Peter, and St.
"Paul, and St. Andrew, and all other
"Christ's apostles, together curse him!
"And may the rest of his disciples and
"four evangelists, who, by their preaching
"converted the universal world, and may the
"holy and wonderful company of martyrs
"and confessors, who by their holy works
"are found pleasing to God Almighty, curse
"himn!" (Obadiah.)
" May the holy choir of the holy virgins,
"who for the honor of Christ have despised
"the things of the world, damn him!-May
"all the saints who, from the beginning ot
"the world to everlasting ages, are found
"to be beloved of God, damn him!-May
"the heavens and earth, and all the holy
"things remaining therein, damn him,"
(Obadiah) "or her!" (or whoever else had
a hand in tying these knots.)
"May he" (Obadiah) "be damn'd wherever
"he be, —whether in the house or the
"stables, the garden, or the field, or the
"highway, or in the path, or in the wood,
"or in the water, or in the church!- May
"he be cursed, in living, in dying!" [Here
my uncle Toby, taking the advantage of a
minim in the second bar of his tune, kept
whistling one continued note to the end of
the sentence,-Dr. Slop, with his division
of curses, moving under him, like a running
bass, all the way.] "May he be cursed in
"eating and drinking, in being hungry, in




OF TRISTRAM SHIANDY.


79


ando, quiescendo, mingendo, cacando, flebotomando.
1 n
Maledictus sit in totis viribus corporis.
in
Maledictus sit intus ex exterius.
in                     in
Maledictus sit in capillis; maledictus sit
i  n
in cerebro. Maledictus sit in vertice, in
temporibus, in fronte, in auriculis, in superciiis, in oculis, in genis, in maxillis, in
naribus, in dentibus, mordacibus, in labris
sive molibus, in labiis, in guttere, in humeris,
in carpis, in brachiis, in manubus, in digitis,
in pectore, in corde, et in omnibus interioribus stomacho tenus, in renibus, in inguine,
in femore, in genitalibus, in coxis, in genubus, in cruribus, in pedidus, et in unguibus.
in
Maledictus sit in totis compagibus membrorum, a vertice capitis, usque ad plantam
pedis.-Non sit in eo sanitas.
OS
Maledicat ilium Christus Filius Dei vivi
toto sue majestatis imperio

"being thirsty, in fasting, in sleeping, in
"slumbering, in waking, in walking, in
"standing, in sitting, in lying, in working,
"in resting, in pissing; in shitting, and in
"blood-letting!
"May he" (Obadiah) "be cursed in all
"the faculties of his body!
"May he be cursed inwardly and out.
"wardly!-  May he be cursed in the hair
"of his head! - May he be cursed in his
"brains, and in his vertex," [That is a sad
curse, quoth my father] "in his temples in
"his forehead, in his ears, in his eyebrows.
"in his cheeks, in his jaw-bones, in his
"nostrils, in his fore-teeth and grinders, in
"his lips, in his throat, in his shoulders, in
"his wrists, in his arms, in his hands, in
"his fingers!
" May he be damn'd in his mouth, in his
"breast, in his heart and purtenance, down
"to the very stomach!
"May he be cursed in his reins, and in
"his groin," [God in Heaven forbid! quoth
"my uncle Toby] "in his thighs, in his
"genitals" [My father shook his head] "and
"in his hips, and in his knees, his legs, and
"feet, and toe-nails!
"May he be cursed in all the jiints and
"articulations of his members, from the top
"of his head to the sole of his foot! May
"there be no soundness in him!"
" May the Son of the living God, with
"all the glory of his Majesty, —" [Here
my uncle Toby throwing back his head,
gave a monstrous, long, loud Whew —ww-; something betwixt the interjectional whistle of Heyday! and the word
itself.-   By the golden beard of Jupiter,and of Juno (if-her majesty wore one), and
by the beards of the rest of your heathen
Worships, which, by the bye, was no small
number, since, what with the beards of your
celestial gods, and gods aerial and aquatic,
— to say nothing of the beards of town-gods
and country-gods, or of the celestial- goddesses your wives, or of the infernal god.
desses your whores and concubines (that
is in case they wore them) — all which
beards, as Varro tells me, upon his wore
and honor, when mustered up together,
made no less than thirty thousand effectivie
beards upon the Pagan establishment'



o0


LIFE AND OPINIONS


every beard of which claimed the rights
and privileges of being stroken and sworn
by:-by all these beards together then,I vow and protest that of the two bad cassocks I am worth in the world, I would
have given the better of them, as freely as
ever Cid Hamet offered his,-to have stood
by and heard my uncle Toby's accompani

— et insurgat adversus ilium coelum
cum omnibus virtutibus quae in eo moventur
ad damnandum eum nisi pcenituerit et ad
satisfactionem venerit. Amen. Fiat, fiat.
Amen.
CHAP. XII.
Now don't let us give ourselves a parcel
of airs, and pretend that the oaths we
make free with in this land of liberty of
ours are our own; and because we have
the spirit to swear them,-imagine that we
have had the wit to invent them too.
I'll undertake this moment to prove it to
any man in the world, except to a connoisseur; —though I declare I object only to
a connoisseur in swearing,-as I would do
to a connoisseur in painting, &c. &c. the
whole set of'em are so hung round and
befetish'd with the bobs and trinkets of criticism,-or, to drop my metaphor, which by
the bye is a pity,-for I have fetch'd it as
fa r as from the coast of Guinea,-their heads,
-i, are stuck so full of rules and compasses,'nd have that eternal propensity to apply
Yifh]m u1DOL all occasions, that a work of


ment.]"
- " curse him!"-continued Dr. Slop;
-" and may Heaven, with all the powers
"which move therein, rise up against him,
"curse and damn him," (Obadiah) "unless
"he repent and make satisfaction! Amen.
"So be it,-so be it.-Amen."
I declare, quoth my uncle Toby, my heart
would not let me curse the devil himself
with so much bitterness.  H-e is the
father of curses, replied Dr. Slop. — So am
not I, replied my uncle. —— But he is cursed
and damn'd already to all eternity, replied
Dr. Slop.
I am sorry for it, quoth my uncle Toby.
Dr. Slop drew up his mouth, and was
just beginning to return my uncle Toby
the compliment of his Whu-u-u, or interjectional whistle,-when the door hastily
opening in the next chapter but one,-put
an end to the affair.


genius had better go to the devil at once.
than stand to be prick'd and tortur'd to death
by'em.
-And how did Garrick speak the soliloquy last night -Oh, against all rule, my
Lord,-most ungrammatically! betwixt the
substantive and the adjective, which should
agree together in number, case, and gender,
he made a breach thus,-stopping, as if the
point wanted settling;-and betwixt the
nominative case, which your Lordship knows
should govern the verb, he suspended his
voice in the epilogue a dozen times three
seconds and three fifths by a stop-watch, my
Lord, each time.   Admirable grammarian!-But in suspending his voice,-was
the sense suspended likewise? Did no expression of attitude or countenance fill up the
chasm?-Was the eye silentl -Did you
narrowly look?   I look'd only at the stopwatch, my Lord. — rxcellent observer'




OF TRISTRAM SHANDY.


81


And what of this new book the whole
worl d makes such a rout about —Oh!'tis out
of all plumb, my Lord,-quite an irregular
thing — not one of the angles at the four
corners was a right angle.-I had my
rule and compasses. &c. my Lord, in my
pocket.-  Excellent critic 
And for the epic poem your Lordship
bid me look at,-upon taking the length,
breadth, height, and depth of it, and trying
them at home upon an exact scale of
Bossu's, -'tis out, my Lord, in every one
of its dimensions. Aumirable connoisseur!
--  And did you stepin, to tare a look
at the grand picture in your way back? —'Tis a melancholy daub, my Lord, not one
principle of the pyramid in any one group!
-and what a price!-for there is nothing
of the coloring of Titian-the expression
of Rubens-the grace of Raphael-the purity of Dominichino-the corregiescity of
Corregio-the learning of Poussin-the airs
of Guido-the taste of the Carrachis-or the
grand contour of Angelo. — Grant me patience, just Heaven!-Of all the cants
which are canted in this canting world,though the cant of hypocrites may be the
wvorst,-the cant of criticism is the most tormenting!
I would go fifty miles on foot, for I have
not a horse worth riding on, to kiss the
hand of that man whose generous heart will
give up the reins of his imagination into his
author's hands,-be pleased he knows not
why, and cares not wherefore.
Great Apollo!-if thou art in a giving
humor,-give me,-I ask no more, but one
stroke of native humor, with a single spark
of thy own fire along with it,-and send
Mercury, with the rules and compasses,
if hle can be spared, with my compliments
to,-no matter.
Now to any one else I will undertake to
prove, that all the oaths and imprecations
which we have been puffing off upon the
world for these two hundred and fifty years
last past as originals,-except St. Paul's
thlemb,-God's flesh, and God's fish, which
were oaths monarchical, and, considering
who made them, not much amiss; and as
king's oaths,'tis not much matter whether
they were fiSh or flesh;-else, I say, there
L


is not an oath, or at least a curse amongst
them, which has not been copied over and
over again out of Ernulphus a thousand
times; but, like all other copies, how infinitely short of the force and spirit of the
original!-It is thought to be no bad oath,
-and by itself passes very well,-" G-d
damn you." —  Set it beside Ernulphus's,
-"God Almighty the Father damn you,
"-God the Son damn you,-God the Holy
"Ghost damn you,"-you see'tis nothing.
--  There is an orientality in his we cannot rise up to: besides, he is more copious
in his invention,-possess'd more of the
excellencies of a swearer,-had such a
thorough knowledge of the human frame,
its membranes, nerves, ligaments, knittings
of the joints, and articulations,-that when
Ernulphus cursed,-no part escaped him.
—'Tis true, there is something of a
hardness in his manner,-and, as in Michael
Angelo, a want of grace;-but then there
is such a greatness of gusto!
My father, who generally look'd upon
every thing in a light very different from
all mankind, would, after all, never allow
this to be an original.-He considered rather
Ernulphus's anathema as an institute of
swearing, in which, as he suspected, upon
the decline of swearing in some milder
pontificate, Ernulphus, by order of the succeeding pope, had with great learning and
diligence collected together all the laws of
it;-for the same reason that Justiniali, in
the decline of the empire, had ordered his
chancellor Tribonias to collect the Roman
or civil laws together into one code or
digest-lest, through the rust of time, and
the fatality of all things committed to oral
tradition,-they should be lost to the world
for ever.
For this reason my father would often
times affirm, there was not an oath from
the great and tremendous oath of Willian
the conqueror (" By the splendor of God")
down to the lowest oath of a scavenger
(" Damn your eyes") which was not to be
found in Ernulphus.-In short, he wouu1
add —I defy a man to swear out of it.
The hypothesis is, like most of my father's,
singular and ingenious too;-nor have I1
any objection to it, but that it overturns mv
own.




82


LIFE -AND OPINIONS


CH1AP. XIII.
--  BLESS my soul!-my poor mistress
is ready to faint-and her pains are goneand the drops are done-and the bottle of
julap is broke-and the nurse has cut her
arm-(and I my thumb, cried Dr. Slop;)
and the child is where it was, continued
Susannah,-and the midwife has fallen
backwards upon the edge of the fender, and
bruised her hip as black as yourihat.- I'll
look at it, quoth Dr. Slop. —There is no
need of that, replied Susannah,-you had
better look at my mistress-but the midwife would gladly first give you an account
how things are; so desires you would go
up stairs and speak to her this moment.
Human nature is the same in all professions.
The midwife had just before been put
over Dr. Slop's head,-he had not digested it.-No, replied Dr. Slop,'twould be
full as proper, if the midwife came down to
me,-   I like subordination, quoth my uncle
Toby,-and but for it, after the reduction of
Lisle, I know not what might have become
of the garrison of Ghent, in the mutiny for
bread, in the year Ten.-  Nor, replied
Dr. Slop, (parodying my uncle Toby's
hobby-horsical reflection; though fully as
hobby-horsical himself)-do I know, Captain
Shandy, what might have become of the
garrison above stairs, in the mutiny and
confusion I find ali things are in at present,
but for the subordination of fingers and
thumbs to ******.-the application of which,
Sir, under this accident of mine, comes in
so a propos, that, without it, the cut upon
my thumb might have been felt by the
Shandy family as long as the Shandy family
had a name.


the place you want it. A scar, an ax, a
sword, a pink'd doublet, a rusty helmet, a
pound and a half of pot-ashes in an urn, or a
three-halfpenny pickle-pot;-but above all,
a tender infant royally accoutred.-Though
if it was too young, and the oration as long as
Tully's second Philippic,-it must certainly
have beshit the orator's mantle.-And then
again, if too old,-it must have been unwieldy and incommodious to his action,so as to make him lose by his child almost
as much as he could gain by it.-Otherwise,
when a state-orator has hit the precise age
to a minute,-hid his BAMBINO in his mantle
so cunningly that no mortal could smell it,
-and produced it so critically, that no soul
could say it came in by head and shoulders
-Oh, Sirs, it has done wonders!-it has
open'd the sluices, and turn'd the brains,
and shook the principles, and unhinged the
politics of half a nation!
These feats however are not to be done,
except in those states and times, I say,
where orators wore mantles,-and pretty
large ones too, my brethren, with some
twenty or five-and-twenty yards of good
purple, superfine, marketable cloth in them,
-with large flowing folds and doubles, and
in a great style of design.-All which
plainly shows, may it please your Worships,
that the decay of eloquence, and the little
good service it does at present, both within
and without doors, is owing to nothing else
in the world but short coats and the disuse
of trunk-hose. —We can conceal nothing
under ours, Madam, worth showing.


CHAP. XV.


DR. Slop was within an ace of being an
exception to all this argumentation: for
happening'to have his green baize bag upon
CHAP. XIV.               his knees when he began to parody my uncle Toby,-'twas as good as the best mantle
LET US go back to the ****** —in the last in the world to him: for which purpose,
chapter.                             when he foresaw the sentence would end
It is a singular stroke of eloquence (at in his new-invented forceps, he thrust his
least it was so when eloquence flourished hand into the bag, in order to have them
at Athens and Rome; and would be so now, ready to clap in, when your Reverences
did orators wear mantles) not to mention took so much notice of the ******, which,
the name of a thing, when you had the thing; had he managed,-my uncle Toby had cerabout you in petto, ready to produce, pop, in; tainly been overthrown: the sentence and




OF TRISTRAM SHANDY.


83


the argument in that case jumping closely
in one point, so like the two lines which
form the salient angle of a ravelin,-Dr.
Slop would never have given them up;and my uncle Toby would as soon have
thought of flying, as taking them by force:
but Dr. Slop fumbled so vilely in pulling
them out, it took off the whole effect, and,
what was a ten times worse evil (for they
seldom come alone in this life) in pulling
out his forceps, his forceps unfortunately
drew out the squirt along with it.
When a proposition can be taken in two
senses-'tis a law in disputation, that the
respondent may reply to which-of the two
he pleases, or finds most convenient for
him.-This threw the advantage of the argument quite on my uncle Toby's side."Good God!" cried my uncle Toby, "are
"children brought into the world with a
"squirt?"
CHAP. XVI.
-UPON my honor, Sir, you have torn
every bit of skin quite off the back of both
my hands with your forceps, cried my uncle
roby;-and you have crush'd all my
knuckles into the bargain with them to a
jelly. —'Tis your own fault, said Dr.
Slop;-you should have clinch'd your two
fists together into the form of a child's
head, as I told you, and sat firm.- I did
so, answered my uncle Toby.-Then the
points of my forceps have not been sufficiently arm'd, or the rivet wants closing,or else the cut on my thumb has made me a
little awkward,-or possibly -'Tis well,
quoth my father, interrupting the detail of
possibilities,-that the experiment was not
first made upon my child's head-piece.It would not have been a cherry-stone the
worse, answered Dr. Si. p. —I maintain
it, said my uncle Toby, it would have broke
the cerebellum (unless indeed the skull had
been as hard as a granado) and turn'd it all
into a perfect posset.- Pshaw! replied
Dr. Slop, a child's head is naturally as soft
as the pap of an apple;-the sutures give
way;-and besides, I could have extracted
by the feet after.- Not you, said she.
I rather wish you would begin that
vay, quoth my father.
P-ay do, added my uncle Toby


CHAP. XVII.
--  AND pray, good woman, after all,
will you take upon you to say, it may not
be the child's hip, as well as the child'd
head -('Tis most certainly the head, replied the midwife.) Because, continued
Dr. Slop (turning to my father), as positive
as these old ladies generally are,-'tis a
point very difficult to khow,-and yet of
the greatest consequence to be known,
-   because, Sir, if thehip is mistaken for
the head,-there is a possibility (if it is a
boy) that the forceps  * * * * * *
* * * * * * *
-   What the possibility was, Dr. Slop
whispered very low to my father, and then
to my uncle Toby.-There is no such
danger, continued he, with the head. —
No, in truth, quoth my father;-but when
your possibility has taken place at the hip,
-you may as well take off the head too.
— It is morally impossible that the
reader should understand this,-'tis enough
Dr. Slop understood it;-so taking the
green baize bag in his hand, with the help
of Obadiah's pumps, he tripp'd pretty nimbly, for a man of his size, across the room
to the door; —and from the door was shown
the way, by the good old midwife, to my
mother's apartments.
CHAP. XVIII.
IT is two hours and ten minutes,-and
no more,-cried my father, looking at his
watch, since Dr. Slop and Obadiah arrived;
-and I know not how it happens, brother
Toby,-but, to my imagination, it seems
almost an age.
--  Here-pray, Sir, take hold of my
cap: —nay, take the bell along with it, and
my pantofles too.
Now, Sir, they are all at your service;
and I freely make you a present of'em, on
condition you give me all your attention to
this chapter.
Though my father said, "he knew noa
"how it hapen'd,"-yet he knew very
well how it happen'd:-and at the instant
he spoke it, was predetermined in his mind
to give my uncle Toby a clear account of
the matter, by a metaphysical dissertation




84


LIFE AND OPINIONS


upon the subject of duration and its simple
modes, in order to show my uncle Toby by
what mechanism and mensurations in the
brain it came to pass, that the rapid succession of their ideas, and the eternal scampering of the discourse from one thing to
another, since Dr. Slop had come into the
room, had lengthened out so short a period
to so inconceivable an extent. —" I know
" not how it happens,"-cried my father"' but it seems an age."
--'Tis owing entirely, quoth my uncle
Toby, to the succession of our ideas.
My father, who had an itch, in common
with all philosophers, of reasoning upon
every thing which happened, and accounting for it too,-proposed infinite pleasure to
himself in this, of the succession of ideas;
and had not the least apprehension of having it snatch'd out of his hands by my uncle
Toby, who (honest man!) generally took
every thing as it happened;-and who of
all things in the world troubled his brain
the least with abstruse thinking;-the ideas
of time and space,-or how we came by
those ideas,-or of what stuff they were
made,-or whether they were born with us,
-or we picked them up afterwards as we
went along,-or whether we did it in frocks,
-or not till we had got into breeches;with a thousand other inquiries and disputes
about INFINITY, PRESCIENCE, LIBERTY, NECESSITY, and so forth, upon whose desperate
and unconquerable theories so many fine
heads have been turned and cracked,never did my uncle Toby's the least injury
at all; my father knew it,-and was no
less surprised than he was disappointed with
my uncle's fortuitous solution.
Do you understand the theory of that
affair? replied my father.
Not I, quoth my uncle.
-But you have some ideas, said my
father, of what you talk about?
No more than my horse, replied my uncle
Tony.
Gracious Heaven! cried my father, looking upwards, and clasping his two hands
together,-there is a worth in thy honest
ignorance, brother Toby;-'twere almost a
pity to exchange it for a knowledge.-But
I'll tell tnee.
To understand what Time is aright,
without which we never can comprehend


Infinity, insomuch as one is a portion of the
other,-we ought seriously to sit down and
consider what idea it is we have ofduratzon,
so as to give a satisfactory account how we
came by it.-What is that to any body?
quoth my uncle Toby. * "For if you will
"turn your eyes inwards upon your mind,"
continued my father, "and observe atten"tively, you will perceive, brother, that
"whilst you and I are talking together, and
"thinking, and smoking our pipes, or whilst
"we receive successively ideas in our minds,
"we know that we do exist; and so we es"timate the existence, or the continuation
"of the existence of ourselves, or any thing
"else, commensurate to the succession of
"any ideas in our minds, the duration of
" ourselves, or any such other thing co-ex" isting with aur thinking:-and so, accord" ing to that preconceived " — You puzzle
me to death, cried my uncle Toby.
-'Tis owing to this, replied my father,
that in our computations of time we are so
used to minutes, hours, weeks, and months
-and of clocks (I wish there was not a
clock in the kingdom) to measure out their
several portions to us, and to those who
belong to us,-that'twill be well if, in
time to come, the succession of our ideas
be of any use or service to us at all.
Now, whether we observe it or no, continued my father, in every sound man's
head there is a regular succession of ideas,
of one sort or other, which follow each
other in a train just like-a train of artillery? said my uncle Toby — A train of
a fiddle-stick!-quoth my father-which
follow and succeed one another in our
minds at certain distances, just like the
images in the inside of a lantern turned
round by the heat of a candle.-I declare,
quoth my uncle Toby, mine are more like
a smoke-jack.-  Then, brother Toby, 1
have nothing more to say to you upon the
subject, said my father.
CHAP. XIX.
--  WHAT a conjecture was here lost!
--  My father, in one of his best explanatory moods,-in, eager pursuit of a meta

* Vide Locke




OF TRISTRAM SHANDY.


85


physical point, into the very regions where
clouds and thick darkness would soon have
encompassed it about; —my uncle Toby, in
one of the finest dispositions for it in the
world;-his head like a smoke-jack;-the
funnel unswept, and the ideas whirling
round and round about in it, all obfuscated
and darkened over with fuliginous matter!
--  By the tomb-stone of Lucian,-if it is
in being;-if not, why then by his ashes!
by the ashes of my dear Rabelais, and
dearer Cervantes!-my father and my
uncle Toby's discourse upon TIME and ETERNITY,-was a discourse devoutly to be
wished for! and the petulancy of my father's
humor, in putting a stop to it as he did, was
a robbery of the Ontologic Treasury of
such a jewel, as no coalition of great occasions and great men are ever likely to restore to it again.
CHAP. XX.
THOUGH my father persisted in not going
on with the discourse-yet he could not
get my uncle Toby's smoke-jack out of his
head,-piqued as he was at first with it;there was something in the comparison
at bottom which hit his fancy; for which
purpose, resting his elbow upon the table,
and reclining the right side of his head upon
the palm of his hand,-but looking first
stedfastly in the fire,-he began to commune with himself, and philosophize about
it: but his spirits being worn out by the
fatigues of investigating new tracts, and
the constant exertion of his faculties upon
that variety of subjects which had taken
their turn in the discourse -the idea of the
smoke-jack soon turned all his ideas upside
down,-so that he fell asleep almost before
he knew what he was about.
As for my uncle Toby, his smoke-jack
had not made a dozen revolutions before he
fell asleep also.- Peace be with them
both!-   Dr. Slop is engaged with the
midwife and my mother, above stairs.Trim is busy in turning an old pair of jackboots into a couple of mortars, to be emnloyed in the siege of Messina next summer;-and is this instant boring a touchnole with the point of a hot poker.-All


my heroes are off my hands;-'tis the first
time I have had a moment to spare,-and
I'll make use of it, and write my preface.
THE AUTHOR'S PREFACE.
No, I'll not say a word about it; —here
it is.-In publishing it,-I have appealed to
the world,-and to the world I leave it;it must speak for itself.
All I know of the matter is, when I sat
down, my intent was to write a good book;
and as far as the tenuity of my understanding would hold out,-a wise, ay, and a discreet; taking care only, as I went along, to
put into it all the wit and the judgment (be
it more or less) which the great Author and
Bestower of them had thought fit originally
to give me;-so that, as your Worships
see,-'tis just as God pleases.
Now, Agalastes (speaking dispraisingly)
saith, That there may be some wit in it, for
aught he knows,-but no judgment at all:
and Triptolemus and Phutatorius agreeing
thereto, ask, How is it possible there should?
for that wit and judgment in this world
never go together; inasmuch as they are
two operations differing from each other as
wide as east from west.-So says Locke:so are farting and hickuping, say I. But in
answer to this, Didius the great churchlawyer, in his code de fartendi et illustrandi fallaciis, doth maintain and make
fully appear, That an illustration is no argument:-nor do I maintain the wiping of
a looking-glass clean to be a syllogism;but you all, may it please your Worships,
see the better for it;-so that the main good
these things do, is only to clarify the understanding previous to the application of the
argument itself, in order to free it from any
little motes, or specks of opacular matter,
which, if left swimming therein, might hinder a conception, and spoil all.
Now, my dear anti-Shandeans, and thrice
able critics and fellow-laborers (for to you I
write this preface)-and to you, most subtle
statesmen and discreet doctors (do,-pull
off your beards) renowned for gravity and
wisdom;-Monopolus, my politician;-Di
dius, my counsel;-Kysarcius, my friend:
-Phutatorius, my guide;-Gastripheles
the preserver of my life;-Somnolentius,
the balm and repose of it,-not forgetting
all others, as well sleeping as waking, ec8




86


LIFE AND OPINIONS


clesiastical as civil, whom for brevity, but
out of no resentment to you, I lump all together.-  Believe me, Right Worthy.
My most zealous wish and fervent prayer
in your behalf, and in my own too, in case
the thing is not done already for us,-is,
That the great gifts and endowments both
of wit and judgment, with every thing
which usually goes along with them,-such
as memory, fancy, genius, eloquence, quick
parts, and what not,-may this precious
moment, without stint or measure, let or
hindrance, be poured down warm as each
of us could bear it,-scum and sediment and
all (for I would not have a drop lost) into
the.several receptacles, cells, cellules, domiciles, dormitories, refectories, and spareplaces of our brains,-in such sort, that
they might continue to be injected and turn'd
into, according to the true intent and meanmg of my wish, until every vessel of them,
both great and small, be so replenish'd,
saturated, and filled up therewith, that no
more, would it save a man's life, could possibly be got either in or out.
Bless us!-what noble work we should
make:-how should I tickle it off!-and
what spirits should I find myself in, to be
writing away for such readers!-and you,
-just Heaven!-with what raptures would
you sit and read!-but oh!-'tis too much!
-I am sick,-I faint away deliciously at
the thoughts of it!-'tis more than nature
can bear!-lay hold of me —I am giddy,I am stone blind,-I am dying,-I am gone.
-— Help! Help! Help!-But hold,-I
grow something better again, for I am beginning to foresee, when this is over, that
as we shall all of us continue to be great
wits,-we should never agree amongst ourselves one day to an end;-there would be
so much satire and sarcasm,-scoffing and
flouting, with rallying and reparteeing of
it,-thrusting and parrying in one corner or
another,-there would be nothing but mischief among us.-   Chaste stars!- what
biting and scratching, and what a racket
and a clatter we should make, what with
breaking of heads, rapping of knuckles, and
hitting of sore places,-there would be no
sucn thing as living for us.
But then again, as we should all of us be
men of great judgment, we should make up
matters as fast as ever they went wrong;


and though we should abominate each other
ten times worse than so many devils- oi
devilesses, we should nevertheless, my dear
creatures, be all. courtesy and kindness,
milk and honey,-'twould be a second land
of promise,-a paradise upon earth, if there
was such a thing to be had;-so that, upon
the whole, we should.have done well enough.
All I fret and fime at, and what most distresses my invention at present, is how to
bring the point itself to bear; for as your
Worships well know, that of these heavenly
emanations of wit and judgment, which I
have so bountifully wished both for your
Worships and myself,-there is but a certain quantum stored up for us all, for the
use and behoof of the whole race of mankind; and such small modicums of'em are
only sent forth into this wide world, circulating here and there in one bye-corner ol
another,-and in such narrow streams, and
at such prodigious intervals from each other,
that one would wonder how it holds out, or
could be sufficient for the wants and emergencies of so many great states and populous empires.
Indeed, there is one thing to be considered: That in Nova Zembla, North Lapland, and in all those cold and dreary tracks
of the globe which lie more directly under
the arctic and antarctic circles, where the
whole province of a man's concernments
lies for near nine months together within
the narrow compass of his cave,-where
the spirits are compressed almost to nothing,
-and where the passions of a man, with
every thing which belongs to them, are as
frigid as the zone itself, —there the least
quantity of judgment imaginable does the
business;-and of wit,-there is a total and
an absolute saving,-for as not one spark
is wanted,-so not one spark is given. Angels and ministers of grace defend'us! what
a dismal thing would it have been to have
governed a kingdom, to have fought a battle,
or made a treaty, or run a match, or wrote
a book, or got a child, or held a provincial
chapter there, with so plentiful a lack of
wit and judgment about us!-For mercy's
sake, let us think no more about it, but
travel on as fast as we can southwards into
Norway,-crossing over Swedeland, if you
please, through the small triangular province of Angermania, to the lake of Bothnia,




OF TRISTRAM SHANDY.


87


coasting along it through East and West
Bothnia, down to Carelia, and so on, through
all those states and provinces which border
upon the far side of the Gulf of Finland, and
the north-east of the Baltic, up to Petersburgh, and just stepping into Ingria;-then
stretching over directly from thence through
the north parts of the Russian empire, leaving Siberia a little upon the left hand, till
we got into the very heart of Russia and
Asiatic Tartary.
Now through this long tour which I have
led you, you observe the good people are
better off by far, than in the polar countries
which we have just left: —for if you hold
your hand over your eyes, and look very
attentively, you may perceive some small
glimmerings (as it were) of wit, with a
comfortable provision of good plain. household judgment, which, taking the quality
and quantity of, it together, they make a
very good shift with;-and had they either
more of one or the other, it would destroy
the proper balance betwixt them; and I am
satisfied, moreover, they would want occasions to put them to use.
Now, Sir, if I conduct you home, again
into this warmer and more luxuriant island,
where you perceive the spring-tide of our
blood and humors runs high;-where we
have more ambition, and pride, and envy,
and lechery, and other whoreson passions
upon our hands to govern and, subject to
reason,-the height of our wit, and the
depth of our judgment, you see, are exactly
proportioned to the length and breadth of
our necessities;-and accordingly we have
them sent down amongst us in such a flowing kind of decent and creditable plenty,
that no one thinks he has any cause to complain.
It must however be confessed on this
head, that, as our air blows hot and cold,wet and dry, ten times in a day, we have
them in no regular and settled way;-so
that sometimes for near half a century together, there shall be very little wit or
judgment either to be seen or heard of
amongst. us:-the small channels of them
shall seem quite dried up;-then all of a
sudden the sluices shall break out, and take
a fit of running again like fury,-you would
think they would never stop:-  and then
it is that, in writing, and fighting, and


twenty other gallant things, we drive all
the world before us.
It is by these observations, and a vary
reasoning, by analogy in that kind. of argumentative process, which Suidas calls dialectic induction,-that I draw and set up
this position as most true and veritable:
That of these two luminaries, so much of
their irradiations are suffered from time to
time to shine down upon us, as He, whose
infinite wisdom which dispenses every
thing in exact weight and measure, knows
will just serve to light us on our way in
this night of our obscurity; so that your
Reverences and Worships now find out, nor
is it a moment longer in my power to conceal it from you, That the fervent wish in
your behalf with which I set out, was no
more than the first insinuating How d'ye
of a caressing prefacer, stifling his reader,
as a lover sometimes does a coy mistress,
into silence. For alas! could this effusion
of light have been as easily procured, as
the exordium wished it,-I tremble to think
how many thousands for it, of benighted
travellers (in the learned sciences at least)
must have groped and blundered on in the
dark, all the nights of their lives, —running
their heads against posts, and knocking out
their brains, without ever getting to their
journey's end;-some falling with their
noses perpendicularly into sinks;-others
horizontally with their tails into kennels:Here one half of a learned profession tilting
full but against the other half of it; and
then tumbling and rolling one over the
other in the dirt like hogs:-Here the
brethren of another profession, who should
have run in opposition to each other, flying
on the contrary, like a flock of wild geese,
all in a row the same way.-What confusion!-what mistakes!-fiddlers and painters
judging by their eyes and ears-admirable!
-trusting tothe passions excited,-in an air
sung, or a story painted to the heart,-instead of measuring them by a quadrant!
In the fore-ground of this picture, a
statesman turning the political wheel, like
a brute, the wrong way round-against the
stream ofcorruption,-by Heaven!-instead
of with it!
In this corner, a son of the divine Esculapius, writing a book against predestination; perhaps worse,-feeling his patient's




LIFE AND OPINIONS


pulse instead of his apothecary's:-a brother of the Faculty in the back-ground
upon his knees in tears,-drawing the curtains of a mangled victim, to beg his forgiveness:-offering a fee, instead of taking
one.
In that spacious HALL, a coalition of the
gown, from all the bars of it, driving a
damn'd, dirty, vexatious cause before them,
with all their might and main, the wrong
way!-kicking it out of the great doors
instead of in i-and with such fury in their
looks, and such a degree of inveteracy in
their manner of kicking it, as if the laws
had been originally made for the peace
and preservation of mankind; — perhaps
a more enormous mistake committed by them
still,-a litigated point fairly hung up;-for
instance, Whether John o'Nokes his nose
could stand in Tom o'Stiles his face, without a trespass, or not?-rashly determined
by them in five-and-twenty minutes, which,
with the cautious pro's and con's required
in so intricate a proceeding, might have
taken up as many months;-and if carried
on upon a military plan, as your Honors
know an ACTION should be, with all the
stratagems practicable therein,-such  as
feints, - forced marches, - surprises - ambuscades,-mask-batteries, and a thousand
other strokes of generalship, which consist
in catching at all advantages on both sides,
— might reasonably have lasted them as
many years, finding food and raiment all
that term for a centumvirate of the profession.
As for the Clergy,-No;-if I say a word
against them, I'll be shot.-I have no
desire; and besides, if I had,-I durst not
for my soul touch upon the subject. With
such weak nerves and spirits, and in the
condition I am in at present,'twould be as
much as my life was worth, to deject and
contrist myself with so bad and melancholy
an account;-and therefore'tis safer to
draw a curtain across, and hasten from it,
as fast as I can, to the main and principal
point I have undertaken to clear up;-and
that is, How it comes to pass, that your men
of least wit are reported to be men of most
udgment7?-But mark-I say, reported to
be;-for it is no more, my dear Sirs, than a
report, and which, like twenty others taken
D every day upon trust, I maintain to be


a vile and a malicious report into the bar
gain.
This, by the help of the observation ai
ready premised, and I hope already weigh
ed and perpended by your Reverences and
Worships, I shall forthwith make appear.
I hate set dissertations; and, above all
things in the world,'tis one of the silliest
things in one of them, to darken your hypothesis by placing a number of tall, opake
words, one before another, in a right line, betwixt your own and your reader's conception,
-when, in all likelihood, if you had looked
about, you might have seen something standing, or hanging up, which would have cleared the point at once;-" for what hindrance,
"hurt, or harm doth the laudable desire of
"knowledge bring to any man, if even
"from a sot, a pot, a fool, a stool, a winter"mitten, a truckle for a pulley, the lid of a
"goldsmith's crucible, an oil-bottle, an old
"slipper, or a cane-chair?"-I am this moment sitting upon one. Will you give me
leave to illustrate this affair of wit and judgment, by the two knobs on the top of the
back of it?-they are fastened on, you see,
with two pegs stuck slightly into two gimblet-holes, and will place what I have to
say in so clear a light, as to let you see
through the drift and meaning of my whole
preface, as plainly as if every point and
particle of it was made up of sun-beams.
I enter now directly upon the point.
-Here stands wit,-and there stands
judgment, close beside it, just like the two
knobs I'm speaking of, upon the back of this
self-same chair on which I am sitting.
You see, they are the highest and most'
ornamental parts of itsframe,-as wit and
judgment are of ours, —and, like them too,
indubitably both made and fitted to go together, in order, as we may say in all such
cases of duplicated embellishment, to answer
one another.
Now, for the sake of an experiment, and
for the clearer illustrating this matter,let us for a moment take off one of these
two curious ornaments (I care not which)
from the point or pinnacle of the chair it
now stands on;-nay, don't laugh at it,but did you ever see, in the whole course
of your lives, such a ridiculous business as
this has made of it?-Why,'tis as miserable
a sight as a sow with one ear; and there is




OF TRISTRAM~l SHANDY.


89


Just as much sense and symmetry in the with the help cf great wigs, grave faces,
one as in the other.- Do,-pray, get off and other implements of deceit, was renderyour seats, only to take a view of it.-Now, ed so general a one against the poor wits
would any man who valued his character a in this matter, that the philosopher himself
straw, have turned a piece of work out of was deceived by it:-it was his glory to
his hand in such a condition?-Nay, lay free the world from the lumber of a thouvour hands upon your hearts, and answer sand vulgar errors;-but this was not of the
this plain question, Whether this one single number; so that, instead of sitting down
knob, which now stands here like a block- coolly, as such a philosopher should have
head by itself, can serve any purpose upon done, to have examined the matter of fact
earth, but to put one in mind of the want before he philosophized upon it,-on the
of the other?-and let me farther ask, in contrary he took the fact for granted, and
case the chair was your own, if you would so join'd in with the cry, and halloo'd it as
not in your consciences think, rather than boisterously as the rest.
be as-it is, that it would be ten times better  This has been made the Magna Charta
without any knobs at all 1             of stupidity ever since:-'-but your ReverNow these two knobs, or top-ornaments ences plainly see, it has been obtained in
of the mind of man, which crown the whole such a manner, that the title to it is not
entablature,-being, as I said, wit and judg- worth a'groat:- which, by the bye, is
ment, which, of all others, as I have proved one of the many and vile impositions which
it, are the most needful,-the most priz'd, gravity and grave folks have to answer for
-the most calamitous to be without, and hereafter.
consequently the hardest to come at;-for  As for great wigs, upon which I may be
all these reasons put together, there is not thought to have spoken my mind too freely.
a mortal among us so destitute of a love of -I beg leave to qualify whatever has been
good fame or feeding,-or so ignorant of unguardedly said to their dispraise or preju
what will do him good therein,-who does dice, by one general declaration,-That I
not wish and stedfastly resolve in his own have no abhorrence whatever, nor do I demind, to be, or to be thought at least, master test and abjure either great wigs or long
of the one or the other, and indeed of both beards, any farther than when I see they
of them, if the thing seems any way feasi- are bespoke and let grow on purpose to carry
ble, or likely to be brought to pass.  on this self-same imposture,-for any purNow, your graver gentry having little or pose.-Peace be with them!- 0y Mark
no kind of chance in aiming at the one,- only,-I write not for them.
unless they laid hold of the other,-pray
what do you think would become of them 1
-   Why, Sirs, in spite of all their gravi-         CHAP. XXI.
ties, they must e'en have been contented
to have gone with their insides naked:-  EVERY day for at least ten years together,
this was not to be borne but by an effort of did my father resolve to have it mended:philosophy not to be supposed in the case'tis not mended yet.-No family but ours
we are upon;-so that no one could well would have borne with it an hour;-and, what
have been angry with them, had they been is most astonishing, there was not a subject
satisfied with what little they could have in the world upon which my father was so
snatched up and secreted under their cloaks eloquent, as upon that of door-hinges:and great peTiwigs. had they not raised a and yet at the same time, he was certainly
hue and cry at the same time against the one of the greatest bubbles to them, I think,
lawful owners.                         that history can produce: his rhetoric and
I need not tell your Worships, that this conduct were at perpetual handy-cuffs.was done with so much cunning and arti- Never did the parlor-door open,-but his
fice,-that the great Locke, who was seldom philosophy or his principles fell a victim to
outwitted by false sounds,-was neverthe- it.-Three drops of oil with a feather, and
less bubbled here.   The cry, it seems, a smart stroke of a hammer, had saved his
was so deep and solemn a one, and what honor for ever.
NM                                   8*




90


LIFE AND OPINIONS


— Inconsistent soul that man is!-languishing under wounds, which he has the
power to heal!-his whole life a contradiction to his knowledge!-his reason, that
precious gift of God to him,-(instead of
pouring in oil) serving but to sharpen his
sensibilities,-to multiply his pains, and
render him more melancholy and uneasy
under them!-Poor unhappy creature, that
he should do so!-Are not the necessary
causes of misery in this life enough, but he
must add voluntary ones to his stock of sorrow!-struggle against evils which cannot
be avoided!-and submit to others, which a
tenth part of the trouble they create him
would remove from his heart for ever!
By all that is good and virtuous, if there
are three drops of oil to be got, and a hammer to be found within ten miles of Shandyhall,-the parlor door-hinge shall be mended
this reign.
CHAP. XXII.
WHEN Corporal Trim   had brought his
two mortars to bear, he was delighted with
his handywork above measure; and knowing what a pleasure it would be to his master to see them, he was not able to resist
the desire he had of carrying them directly
into his parlor.
Now, next to the moral lesson I had in
view in mentioning the affair of hinges, I
had a speculative consideration arising out
of it, and it is this:Had the parlor-door opened and turn'd
upon its hinges, as a door should do,Or, for example, as cleverly as our government has been turning upon its hinges,
-(that is, in case things have all along
gone well with your Worship,-otherwise
I give up my simile)-in this case, I say,
there had been no danger, either to master
or man, in Corporal Trim's peeping in: the
moment he had beheld my father and my
uncle Toby fast asleep,-the respectfulness
of his carriage was such, he would have
retired as silent as death, and left them
both in their arm-chairs, dreaming as happy
as he had found them: but the thing was,
morally speaking, so very impracticable,
that for the many years in which this hinge


was suffered to be out of order, and amongst
the hourly grievances my father submitted
to upon its account,-this was one; that
he never folded his arms to take his nap
after dinner, but the thoughts of being unavoidably awakened by the first person who
should open the door, was always uppermost in his imagination, and so incessantly
stepp'd in betwixt him and the first balmy
presage of his repose, as to rob him, as he
often declared, of the whole sweets of it.
" When things move upon bad hinges,
"an' please your Worships, how can it be
"otherwise?"
Pray what's the matter? who is there?
cried my father, waking, the moment the
door began to creak.-I wish the smith
would give a peep at that confounded hinge.
--'Tis nothing, an' please your Honor,
said Trim, but two mortars I am bringing
in.-They shan't make a clatter with
them here, cried my father hastily.-If
Dr. Slop has any drugs to pound, let him
do it in the kitchen.-  May it please your
Honor, cried Trim, they are two mortarpieces for a siege next summer, which I
have been making out of a pair'of jackboots, which Obadiah told me your Honor
had left off wearing. — By Heaven! cried
my father, springing out of his chair, as he
swore,-I have not one appointment belonging to me which I set so much store
by, as I do by these jack-boots: —they were
our great-grandfather's, brother Toby:they were hereditary.    Then I fear,
quoth my uncle Toby, Trim has cut off the
entail.- I have only cut off the tops, an'
please your Honor, cried Trim.- I hate
perpetuities as much as any man alive, cried
my father,-but these jack-boots, continued
he (smiling, though very angry at the same
time), have been in the family, brother,
ever since the civil wars;  Sir Roger
Shandy wore them at the battle of Marston-Moor.-I declare I would not have
taken ten pounds for them.- I'll pay you
the money, brother Shandy, quoth my uncle
Toby, looking at the two mortars with infinite pleasure, and putting his hand into
his breeches'-pocket, as he viewed them,I'll pay you the ten pounds this moment,
with all my heart and soul. —
Brother Toby, replied my father, altering
his tone, you care not what money you dis



OF TRISTRAM SHANDY.


91


sipate and throw away, provided, continued
he,'tis but upon a SIEGE. — Have I not
one hundred and twenty pounds a year,
besides my half-pay? cried my uncle Toby.
--  What is that,-replied my father hastily,-to ten pounds for a pair of jack-boots?
-twelve guineas for your pontoons?half as much for your Dutch draw-bridge?to say nothing of the train of little brass
artillery you bespoke last week, with twenty
other preparations for the siege.of Messina!
Believe me, dear brother Toby, continued
my father, taking him kindly by the hand,
— these military operations of yours are
above your strength:-you mean well, brother,-but they carry you into greater expenses than you were at first aware of;and take my word, dear Toby, they will in
the end quite ruin your fortune, and make
a beggar of you.-What signifies it if'hey do, brother, replied my uncle Toby, so
long as we know'tis for the good of the
nation' 
My father could not help smiling for his
soul:-his anger at the worst was never
more than a spark; and the zeal and simplicity of Trim,-and the generous (though
hobby-horsical) gallantry of my uncle Toby,
brought him into perfect good humor with
them in an instant.
Generous souls!-God prosper you both,
and your mortar-pieces too! quoth my father
to himself.
CHAP. XXIII.
ALL is quiet and hush, cried my father, at
least above stairs: —I hear not one foot
stirring. -Prithee, Trim, who's in the
kitchen.- There is no one soul in the
kitchen, answered Trim, making a low bow
as he spoke, except Dr. Slop.- Confusion!
cried my father (getting up upon his legs
a second time)-not one single thing has
gone right this day! Had I faith in astrology, brother, (which, by the bye, my
father had) I would have sworn some retrograde planet was hanging over this unfortunate house of mine, and turning every
individual thing in it out of its place.Why, I thought Dr. Slop had been above
stairs with my wife; and so said you.

What can the fellow be puzzling about in
the kitchen!   He is busy, an' please
your Honor, replied Trim, in making a
bridge.'Tis very obliging in him, quoth
my uncle Toby: —  pray give my humble
service to Dr. Slop, Trim, and tell him I
thank him heartily.
You must know, my uncle Toby mistook
the bridge,-as widely as my father mistook the mortars:-but. to understand how
my uncle Toby..could mistake the bridge,I fear I must give you an exact account of
the road which led to it;-or, to drop my
metaphor (for there is nothing more dishonest in an historian than the use of one)
-in order to conceive the probability of
this error in my uncle Toby aright, I must
give you some account of an adventure of
Trim's, though much against my will; 1
say much against my will, only because the
story, in one sense, is certainly out of its
place here; for by right, it should come in,
either amongst the anecdotes of my uncle
Toby's amours with Widow Wadman, in
which Corporal Trim was no mean actor,
-or else in the middle of his and my uncle
Toby's campaigns on the bowling-green,
for it will do very well in either place;but then if I reserve it for either of those
parts of my story,-I ruin the story I'm
upon;-and if I tell it here,-I anticipate
matters, and ruin it there.
-What would your Worships have me
to do in this case?
-Tell it, Mr. Shandy, by all means.You are a fool, Tristram, if you do.
O ye powers! (for powers ye are, and
great ones too)-which enable mortal man
to tell a story worth the hearing,-that
kindly show him where he is to begin it,and where he is to end it,-what he is to
put into it,-and what he's to leave out,how much of it he is to tcst into a shade,and whereabouts he is to throw his light!
Ye who preside o er this vast, empire of
biographical freebooters, and see how many
scrapes and plunges your subjects hourly
fall into,-will you do one thing 1
I beg and beseech you (in case you will
do nothing better for us), that wherever in
any part of your dominions it so falls out,
that three several roads meet in one point,
as they have done;iast here,-that at least
you set up a guid, -post in the centre of




92


LIFE AND OPINIONS


them, in mere charity, to direct an uncer- found it necessary to draw off his forces and
tain devil which of the three he is to take. raise the siege somewhat indignantly.
Corporal Trim, as I said, had made no
such bargain either with himself,-or with
any one else;-the fidelity however of his
CHAP. XXIV.               heart not suffering him to go into a house
which his master had forsaken with disgust,
THouGH the shock my uncle Toby re- -he contented himself with turning his
ceived the year after the demolition of part of the siege into a blockade;-that is,
Dunkirk, in his affair with Widow Wad- he kept others off;-for though he never
man, had fixed him in a resolution never afterwards went to the house, yet he never
more to think of the sex,-or of aught which met Bridget in the village but he would
belonged to it;-yet Corporal Trim had either nod, or wink, or smile, or look kindly
made no such bargain with himself.-In- at her,-or (as circumstances directed) he
deed, in my uncle Toby's case there was a would shake her by the hand,-or ask her
strange and unaccountable concurrence of lovingly how she did,-or would give her a
circumstances, which insensibly drew him ribbon,-and now and then, though never
in, to lay siege to that fair and strong but when it could be done with decorum,
citadel.-In Trim's case there was a con- would give Bridget a —.
currence of nothing in the world, but of  Precisely in this situation did these things
him and Bridget in the kitchen;-though stand for five years; that is, from the dein truth, the love and veneration he bore molition of Dunkirk in the year thirteen, to
his master was such, and so fond was he of the latter end of my uncle Toby's campaign
imitating him in all he did, that had my in the year eighteen, which was about six
uncle Toby employed his time and genius or seven weeks before the time I'm speakin tagging of points,-I am persuaded the ing of, — -when Trim, as his custom was,
honest Corporal would have laid down his after he had put my uncle Toby to bed,
arms, and followed his example with pleas- going down one moon-shiny night to see
ure. When therefore my uncle Toby sat that every thing was right at his fortificadown before the mistress,-Corporal Trim tions, - in the lane separated from the
incontinently took ground before the maid. bowling-green with flowering shrubs and
Now, my dear friend Garrick, whom I holly,-he espied his Bridget.
have so much cause to esteem and honor-  As the Corporal thought there was no(why or wherefore'tis no matter)-can it thing in the world so well worth showing as
escape your penetration,-I defy it,-that the glorious works which he and my uncle
so many playwrights, and opificers of chit- Toby had made, Trim courteously and galchat, have ever since been working upon lantly took her by the hand, and led her in.
Trim's and my uncle Toby's pattern?-I This was not done so privately, but that the


care not what Aristotle, or Pacuvius, or
Bossu, or Ricaboni, say-(though I never
read one of them)-there is not a greater
difference between a-single-horse chair and
Madam Pompadour's vis d vis, than betwixt
a single amour and an amour thus nobly
doubled, and going upon all-four, prancing
throughout a grand drama.-Sir, a simple,
single, silly affair of that kind,-is quite
lost in live acts;-but that is neither here
nor there.
After a series of attacks and repulses in
a course of nine months on my uncle Toby's
quarter, a most minute account of every
particular of which shall be given in its
oroper Dace, ny uncle Toby, honest man!


foul-mouth'd trumpet of Fame carried it
from ear to ear, till at length it reach'd my
father's, with this untoward circumstance
along with it, that my uncle Toby's curious
draw-bridge, constructed and painted after
the Dutch fashion, and which went quite
across the ditch,-was broke down, and
somehow or other crushed all to pieces, that
very night.
My father, as you have obser ed, had no
great esteem for my uncle'IobLy' HIBBYHORSE; he thought it the most ridiculous
horse that ever gentleman mounted; and
indeed, unless my uncle Toby vexcJ him
about it, could never think of it once, without smiling at it;-so that it could an.er




O- TRISTRAM SIANDY.


93






get lame, or happen any nllocilance, but it terebra and scorpio, which cast javelins.tickled my father's imagination beyond But what are these, would he say, to the
measure; but this being an accident much destructive machinery cf Corporal Trim!more to his humor than any one which had Believe me, brother Toby, no bridge or
yet befallen it, it proved an inexhaustible bastion, or sally-port, that ever was confund of entertainment to him.-Well,-but structed in this world, can hold out against
dear Torby! my father would say, do tell such artillery.
me seriously how this affair of the bridge  My uncle Toby would never attempt any
happened.-   How can you tease me so defence against the force of this ridicule,
much about it? my uncle Toby would re- but that of redoubling the vehemence of
ply;-I have told it you twenty times, word smoking his pipe; in doing which, he raised
for word, as Trim told it me.  Prithee, so dense a vapor one night after supper,
now was it then, Corporal? my father that it set my father, who was a little
would cry, turning to Trim.-It was a phthisical, into a suffocating fit of violent
mere misfortune, an' please your Honor;- coughing; my uncle Toby leap'd up, with.
I was showing Mrs. Bridget Our fortifica- out feeling the pain upon his groin,-and,
tions; and in going too near the edge of with infinite pity, stood beside his brother's
the fosse, I unfortunately slipp'd in -  chair, tapping his back with one hand, and
Very well, Trim! my father would cry-  holding his head with the other, and from
(smiling mysteriously, and giving a nod,- time to time wiping his eyes with a clear
but without interrupting him)  and being cambric handkerchief, which he pull'd out
link'd fast, an' please your Honor, arm in of his pocket. The affectionate and endeararm with Mrs. Bridget, I dragg'd her after ing manner in which my uncle Toby did
me; by means of which she fell backwards these little offices,-cut my father through
soss against the bridge;-and Trim's foot his reins, for-the pain he had just been giv.
(my uncle Toby would'cry, taking the story ing him. - May my brains be knock'd oul
out of his mouth) getting into the cuvette, with a battering-ram or a catapulta, I care
he tumbled full against the bridge too.-  not which, quoth my father to himself-it
It was a thousand to one, my uncle Toby ever I insult this worthy soul more!
would add, that the poor fellow did not
break his leg.    Ay, truly, my father               -
would say,-a limb is soon broke, brother
Toby, in such encounters.-  And so, an'            CtAP. XXV
please your Honor, the bridge, which your
Honor knows was a very slight one, was   THE draw-bridge being held irreparable,
broke down betwixt us, and splintered all Trim was ordered directly to set about anto pieces.                             other,- but not upon the same model; foi
At other times, but especially when my Cardinal Alberoni's intrigues at that time
uncle Toby was so unfortunate as to say a being discovered, and my uncle Toby rightly
syllable about cannons, bombs, or petards,- foreseeing that a flame would inevitably
my father would exhaust all the stores of break out betwixt Spain and the Empire,
his eloquence (which indeed were very and that the operations of the ensuing cam.
great) in a panegyric upon the battering- paign must in all likelihood be either ir
rams of the ancients-the vinea which Al- Naples or Sicily,-he determined upon an
exander made use of at the siebge of Troy. Italian bridge-(my uncle Toby, by the bye,
-He would tell my uncle Toby of the was not far out of his conjectures);-bul
catapullce of the Syrians, which threw such my father, who was infinitely the bette.
monstrous stones so many hundred feet, and politician, and took the lead as far of my
shook the strongest bulwarks from their uncle Toby in the cabinet, as my uncle Toby
very foundations;-he would go on and took it of him in the field,-convinced him
describe the wonderful mechanism of the that if the King of Spain and the Empero,
balista, which Marcellinus makes so much went together by the ears,-England
rout about!-the terrible effects of the py- France, and Holland, must, by force of tlhe;
roboli, which cast fire; -the danger of the pre-engagements, all enter the lists too'

I
I
I
I
II
I
I
L
I




94


IIFEI ANDI OPINIONSgN


and if so, he would say, the combatants, mating to a cycloid — if not a cycloid
brother Toby, as sure as we are alive, will itself.
fall to it again, pell-mell, upon the old  My uncle Toby understood the nature of
prize-fightingstage of Flanders,-then what a parabola as well as any man in England:
will you do with your Italian bridge  -but was not quite such a master of the
We will go on with it then upon the old cycloid:-he talked however about it every
model, cried my uncle Toby.           day-   the bridge went not forwards.When Corporal Trim had about half fin- We'll ask somebody about it, cried my
ished it in that style,-my uncle Toby uncle Tobyto Trim.
found out a capital defect in it, which he
had never thoroughly considered before. It
turned, it seems, upon hinges at both ends
of it, opening in the middle, one half of         CHAP. XXVI.
which turning to one side of the foss6, and
tile other to the other; the advantage of  WHEN Trim came in and told my father,
which was this, that by dividing the weight that Dr. Slop was in the kitchen, and busy
of the bridge into two equal portions, it em- in making a bridge,-my uncle Toby,powered my uncle Toby to raise it up or let the affair of the jack-boots having just then
it down with the end of his crutch, and with raised a train of military ideas in his brain,
one hand, which, as his garrison was weak, - took it instantly for granted that Di\
was as much as he could well spare;-but Slop was making a model.of the Marquis
the disadvantages of such a construction d'Hopital's bridge.'Tis very obliging
-were insurmountable;-for by this means, in him, quoth my uncle Toby;-pray give'le would say, I leave one half of my bridge my humble service to Dr. Slop, Trim, and
in my enemy's possession;-and pray, of tell him I thank him heartily.
what use is the other!                 Had my uncle Toby's head been a SaThe natural remedy for this was, no voyard's box, and my father peeping in all
doubt, to have his bridge fast only at one the time at one end of it,-it could not
end with hinges, so that the whole might have given him a more distinct conception
be lifted up together, and stand bolt up- of the operations of my uncle Toby's imright;-but that was rejected, for the reason agination than what he had; so, notwithgiven above.                          standing the catapulta and battering-ram,
For a whole week after, he was deter- and his bitter imprecation about them, he
mined in his mind to have one of that par- was just beginning to triumph,ticular construction which is made to draw  When Trim's answer in an instant tore
back horizontally, to hinder a passage; and the laurel from his brows, and twisted it to
to thrust forwards again, to gain a passage, pieces.
-of which sorts your Worships might have
seen three famous ones at Spires before its
destruction-and one now at Brisac, if I
mistake not;-but my father advising my           CHAP. XXVII.
uncle Toby, with great earnestness, to have
nothing more to do with thrusting bridges;  -- This unfortunate draw-bridge of
-and my uncle foreseeing moreover that it yours, quoth my father, —God bless your
would but perpetuate the memory of the Honor, cried Trim,'tis a bridge for masCorporal's misfortune,-he changed his ter's nose.-In bringing him into the
mind for that of the Marquis d'Hopital's in- world with his vile instruments, he has
vention, which the younger Bernouilli has crush'd his nose, Susannah says, as flat as
so well and learnedly described, as your a pan-cake to his face, and he is making a
Worships may see.Act. Erud. Lips. false bridge with a piece of cotton, and a
an. 1695:-to these a lead weight is an thin piece of whalebone out of Susannah's
eternal balance, and keeps watch as well as stays, to raise it up.
a couple of sentinels, inasmuch as the con-  - Lead me, brother Toby, cried.my
Eiruction of tnem was a curve line approxi- father, to my room this instant.










CITAP. XXVI
FROM the first moment
write my life for the amu
world, and my opinions for
has a cloud insensibly been
my father.-A tide of Rttle
tresses has been setting in
Not one thing, as he observ
gone right: and now is the
and going to break, and I
upon his head.
I enter upon this part of 
most pensive and melancholl
that ever sympathetic brea
with.-My nerves relax as I
line I write, I feel an abe
quickness of my pulse, and <
alacrity with it, which ever
prompts me to say and wi
things I should not:- and
that I last dipp'd my pen
could not help taking notice
air of sad composure and 
appear'd in my manner of d
how different from the rash
brain'd squirts thou art wo
transact it with in other hu]
thy pen,-spurting thy ink
and thy books,-as if thy p
thy books and thy furnit
nothing!


OF TRISTRAM      SItANDY.                        9,:
II.           touch'd the quilt; his left a, m hung insensibly over the side of the bed, his knuckles
I sat down to reclining upon the handle of the chamberisement of the pot, which peep'd out beyond the valance;
its instruction, -h'is right leg (his left being drawn up togathering over wards his body) hung half over the side of
evils and dis- the bed, the edge of it pressing upon his
against him.- shin-bone,-He felt it not. A fix'd, inflexied himself, has ble sorrow took possession of every line
storm thicken'd of his face.-He sigh'd once,-heav'd his
pour down full breast often,-but uttered not a word.
An old set-stitch'd chair, valanced and
my story in the fringed around with party-colored worsted
y frame of mind bobs, stood at the bed's head, opposite to the,st was touched side where my father's head reclin'd.-My
[ tell it.-Every uncle Toby sat him down in it.
itement of the   Before an affliction is digested,-consolaof that careless tion ever comes too soon;- and after it is
y day of my life digested,-it comes too late; so that you see,
rite a thousand Madam, there is but a mark between these
this moment, two, as fine almost as a hair, for a cominto my ink, I forter to take aim at.-My uncle Toby was
what a cautious always either on this side or on that of it,
solemnity there and would often say, he believed in his
oing it.-Lord! heart he could as soon hit the longitude; for
jerks and hare- this reason, when he sat down in the chair,
nt, Tristram, to' he drew the curtain a little forwards, and
mors-dropping having a tear at every one's service,-ho
about thy table pull'd out a cambric handkerchief,-gave
>en and thy ink, a low sigh,-but held his peace.


ure, cost thee


CHAP. XXX.


CHAP. XXIX.                 — "ALL is not gain that is got into the
"purse."-So that, notwithstanding my
-   I WON'T go about to argue the point father had the happiness of reading the
with you:-'tis so; —and I am persuaded oddest books in the universe, and had,
of it, Madam, as much as can be, "That moreover, in himself, the oddest way of
"both man and woman bear pain or sorrow thinking that ever man in it was bless'd
"(and, for aught I know, pleasure too) best with, yet it had this drawback upon him
"in a horizontal position."           after all,- That it laid him open to some
The moment my father got up into his of the oddest and most whimsical distresses;
chamber, he threw himself prostrate across of which this particular one, which he suiin
his bed in the wildest disorder imaginable, under at present, is as strong an example as
but at the same time in the most lamenta- can be given.
ble attitude of a man borne down with sor-  No doubt, the breaking down of the bridge
rows, that ever the eye of pity dropp'd a of a child's nose, by the edge of a pair o"
tear for.-The palm of his right hand, as he forceps,-however scientifically applied.Cell upon the bed, receiving his forehead, would vex any man in the world who was
and covering the greatest part of both his at so much pains in begetting a child as my
eves, gently sunk down with his head (his father was;-yet it will not account for the
elbow giving way backwards) till his nose extravagance of his affliction, nor will't




96


LIFE AND OPINIONS


justify the unchristian manner he aban-  -   Here are two senses, cried Eugenius
doned and surrendered himself up to.   as we walk'd along, pointing with the foreTo explain this, I must leave him upon finger of his right hand to the word crevce,
the bed for half an hour,-and my uncle in the forty-eighth page of this book of books:
Toby, in his old fringed chair, sitting beside -- here are twosenses,-quoth he.-And
him.                                   here are two roads, replied I, turning short
upon him,-a dirty and a clean one,-which
shall we take?-The clean, by all means,
replied Eugenius.    Eugenius, said I,
CHAP. XXXI.                stepping before him, and laying my hand
upon his breast,-to define is to distrust.--  I THINK it a very unreasonable de- Thus I triumphed over Eugenius; but I
rnand, cried my great-grandfather, twisting triumphed over him, as I always do, like a
up the paper, and throwing it upon the table. fool.-'Tis my comfort, however, I am rot
-By this account, Madr.m, you have but an obstinate one: therefore,
two thousand pounds fortune, and not a   I define a nose as follows,-entreating
shilling more;-and you insist upon having only beforehand, and beseeching my readers,
three hundred pounds a year jointure for both male and female, of what age, comit.-                                   plexion, and condition soever, for the love
-" Because," replied my great-grandmo- of God and their own souls, to guard against
ther, "you have little or no nose, Sir." - the temptations and suggestions of the
Now, before I venture to make use of the Devil, and suffer him by no art or wile to
word Nose a second time,-to avoid all con- put any other ideas into their minds than
fusion in what will be said upon it, in this what I put into my definition:-for by the
interesting part of my story, it may not be word Nose, throughout all this long chapter
amiss to explain my own meaning, and of noses, and in every other part! of my
define, with all possible exactness and pre- work where the word Nose occurs,-I decision, what I would willingly be under- clare by that word I mean a nose, and nostood to mean by the term: being of opinion, thing more or less.
that'tis owing to the negligence and perverseness of writers in despising this precaution, and to nothing else,-that all the
polemical writings in divinity are not as          CHAP. XXXII.
clear and demonstrative as those upon a
Will o' the Wisp, or any other sound part  — " BECAUSE," quoth my great-grand
of philosophy and natural pursuit; in order mother, repeating the words again —"you
to which, what have you to do, before you " have little or no nose, Sir."
set out, unless you intend to go puzzling on  S'death! cried my great-grandfather,
to the day of judgment,-but to give the clapping his hand upon his nose,-'tis not
world a good definition, and stand to it, of so small as that comes to;-'tis a full inch
the main word you have most occasion for, longer than my father's.  Now, my great-changing it, Sir, as you would a guinea, grandfather's nose was for all the world like
into small coin,-which done, let the father unto the noses of all the men, women, and
of confusion puzzle you, if he can; or put children whom Pantagruel found dwelling
a different idea either into your head, or upon the island of Ennasin.-By the way,
your reader's head, if he knows how.   if you would know the strange way of getIn books of strict morality and close rea- ting a-kin amongst so flat-nosed a people,
soning, such as this I am engaged in,-the you must read the book;-find it out yourneglect is unexcusable; and heaven is wit- self'you never can.ness how the world has revenged itself   -'Twas shaped, Sir, like an ace of clubs.
upon me for leaving so many openings to  -'Tis.a full inch, continued my greatequivocal strictures.-and for depending so grandfather, pressing up the ridge of his
iuch as I hlive' iono, all alon, upon the nose with his finger and thumb; and repeat-:!eanliness of' Iuv readors' imaoinations.-  ing his assertion,-'tis a full inch longer




OF TRISTRAM SHANDY.'7


Madam, than my father's.-   You must
mean your uncle's, replied my great-grandmother.
-— My great-grandfather was convinced.-He untwisted the paper, and signed
he article.
CHAP. XXXIII.
--  WHAT an unconscionable jointure,
my dear do we pay out of this small estate
of ours! quoth my grandmother to my grandfather.
My father, replied my grandfather, had
no more nose, my dear, saving the mark,
than there is upon the back of my hand.Now, you must know, that my great-grandmother outlived my grandfather twelve
years; so that my father had the jointure
to pay, a hundred and fifty pounds halfyearly-(on Michaelmas and Lady-day)during all that time.
No man discharged pecuniary obligations
with a better grace than my father;-and
as far as a hundred pounds went, he would
fling it upon the table, guinea by guinea,
with that spirited jerk of an honest welcome,
with which generous souls, and generous
souls only, are able to fling down money:
but as soon as ever he enter'd upon the odd
fifty,-he generally gave a loud hem! rubb'd
the side of his nose leisurely with the flat
part of his fore-finger,-inserted his hand
cautiously betwixt his head and the cawl of
his wig,-look'd at both sides of every guinea
as he' parted with it,-and seldom could get
to the end of the fifty pounds, without pulling out his handkerchief, and wiping his
temples.
Defend me, gracious Heaven! from those
persecuting spirits who make no allowance
for these workings within us.-Never,-O
never may I lay down in their tents, who
cannot relax the engine, and feel pity for
the force of education, and the prevalence
of opinions long derived from ancestors.
For three generations at least, this tenet
in favor of long noses had gradually been
taking root in our family.-TRADITION was
all along on its side, and INTEREST was
every half-year stepping in to strengthen
it; so that the whimsicality of my father's
N


brain was so far from having the whole
honor of this, as it had of almost all his
other strange notions;-for in a great measure, he might have said to have suck'd this
in with his mother's milk. He did his part,
however.-If education planted the mistake
(in case it was one) my father watered it,
and ripened it to perfection.
He would often declare, in speaking his
thoughts upon the subject, that he did not
conceive how the greatest family in England could stand it out against an uninterrupted succession of six or seven short
noses.-And, for the contrary reason, he
would generally add, That it must be one
of the greatest problems in civil life, where
the same number of long and jolly noses,
following one another in a direct line, did
not raise and hoist it up into the best vacancies in the kingdom.-He would often boast
that the Shandy Family rank'd very high
in king Harry the VIIIth's time; but owed
its rise to no state engine,-he would say,
-but to that only;-but that, like other
families, he would add,-it had left the turn
of the wheel, and had never recovered the
blow of my great-grandfather's nose.-It
was an ace of clubs indeed, he would cry,
shaking his head:-and as vile a one for an
unfortunate family as ever turn'd up trumps.
--  Fair and softly, gentle reader!where is thy fancy carrying thee!-If there
is truth in man, by my great-grandfather's
nose, I mean the external organ of smelling,
or that part of man which stands prominent
in his face,-and which, painters say, in
good jolly noses and well-proportioned faces,
should comprehend a full third!-that is,
measured downwards from the setting on
of the hair.-   What a life of it has an author, a'
this pass!
CHAP. XXXIV.
IT is a singular blessing, that nature has
form'ej the mind of man with the same
happy backwardness and renitency against
conviction, which is observed in old dogs,
-"of not learning new tricks."
What a shuttlecock of ca fellow would
the greatest philosopher that ever existe4
9




98


LIFE AND OPINIONS


be whisk'd into at once, did he read such
books, and observe such facts, and think
such thoughts, as would eternally be making
him change sides!
Now, my father, as I told you last year,
detested all this:-He pick'd up an opinion,
Sir, as a man in a state of nature picks up
an apple:-it becomes his own:-and if he
is a man of spirit, he would lose his life
rather than give it up.
I am aware that Didius, the great civilian,
will contest this point, and cry out against
me, Whence comes this man's right to this
apple? ex confesso, he will say,-things
were in a state of nature;-the apple is as
much Frank's apple as John's.-Pray, Mr.
Shandy, what patent has he to show for it?
and how did it begin to be his? was it when
he set his heart upon it? or when he gathered it? or when he chew'd -it? or when
he roasted it? or when he peel'd, or when
he brought it home? or when he digested?
-or when he —?-For'tis plain, Sir, if
the first picking up of the apple, made it
not his,-that no subsequent act could.
Brother Didius, Tribonius will answer(now Tribonius the civilian and churchlawyer's beard being three inches and a
half, and three-eighths longer than Didius
his beard,-I'm glad he takes up the cudgels
for me; so I give myself no farther trouble
about the answer.)-Brother Didius, Tribonius will say, it is a decreed case, as you
may find it in the fragments of Gregorius
and Hermogines's codes, and in all the
codes from Justinian's down to the codes of
Louis and Des Eaux,-that the sweat of a
man's brows, and the exudations of a man's
brains, are as much a man's own property
as the breeches upon his backside;-which
said exudations, &c. being dropp'd upon
the said apple by the labor of finding it, and
picking it up; and being moreover indissollbly wasted, and as indissolubly annex'd, by
the picker up, to the thing pick'd up, carried
nome, roasted, peel'd, eaten, digested, and
so on,-'tis evident that the gatherer of the
apple, in so doing, has mix'd up something
which was his own, with the apple which
was not his own; by which means he has
acquired a property;-or, in other words,
the apple is John's apple.
By the same learned chain of reasoning,
anv father stood up for all his opinions; he


had spared no pains in picking them up;
and the more they lay out of the common
way, the better still was his title. —No
mortal claimed them; they had cost him,
moreover, as much labor in cooking and digesting as in the case above; so that they
might well and truly be said to be of his own
goods and chattels.-Accordingly he held
fast by'em,both by teeth and claws,-would
fly to whatever he could lay his hands on,and, in a word, would intrench and fortify
them round with as many circumvallations
and breast-works as my uncle Toby would
a citadel.
There was one plaguy rub in the way
of this:-the scarcity of materials to make
any thing of a defence with, in case of a
smart attack; inasmuch as few men of
great genius had exercised their parts in
writing books upon the subject of great
noses. By the trotting of my lean horse,
the thing is incredible! and I am quite
lost in my understanding, when I am considering what a treasure of precious time
and talents together has been wasted upon
worse objects,-and how many millions of
books, in all languages, and in all possible
types and bindings, have been fabricated on
points not half so much tending to the unity
and peace-making 6f the world! What was
to be had, however, he set the greater store
by; and though my father would oft-times
sport with my uncle Toby's library,-which,
by the bye, was ridiculous enough,-yet at
the very same time he did it, he collected
every book and treatise which had been
systematically wrote upon noses, with as
much care as my honest uncle Toby had
done those upon military architecture.-'Tis true, a much less table would have held
them;-but that was not thy transgression,
my dear uncle.Here, —but why here,-rather than in
any other part of my story?-I am not
able to tell-  but here it is --  my
heart stops me to pay to thee, my dear
uncle Toby, once for all, the tribute I owe
thy goodness.-Here let me thrust my chair
aside, and kneel down upon the ground
whilst I am pouring forth the warmest sentiment of love for thee, and veneration for
the excellency of thy character, that ever
virtue and nature kindled in a nephew's
bosom.-Peace and comfort rest for ever



OF TRISTRAM SHANDY.


99


more upon thy head!-Thou enviedst no
man's comforts, insultedst no man's opinions;-thou blackenedst no man's character,-devouredst no man's bread! Gentle,
with faithful Trim behind thee, didst thou
amble round the little circle of pleasure,
justling no creature in the way: for each
one's sorrows thou hadst a tear;-for each
man's need thou hadst a shilling.
Whilst I am worth one to pay a weeder,
-thy path from the door to thy bowlinggreen shall never be grown up.-Whilst
there is a rood and a half of land in the
Shandy family, thy fortifications, my dear
uncle Toby, shall never be demolish'd.
CHAP. XXXV.
MY father's collection was not great; but,
to make amends, it was curious; and consequently he was some time in making it;
he had the great good fortune, however, to
set off well, in getting Bruscambille's prologue upon long noses, almost for nothing;
-for he gave no more for Bruscambille
than three half-crowns, owing indeed to
the strong fancy which the stall-man saw
my father had for the book, the moment he
laid his hands upon it.-There are not
three Bruscambilles in Christendom, said
the stall-man, except what are chain'd up
in the libraries of the curious. My father
flung down the money as quick as lightning, -took Bruscambille into his bosom,
-hied home from Piccadilly to Colemanstreet with it, as he would have hied home
with a treasure, without taking his hand
once off from Bruscambille all the way.
To those who do not yet know of which
gender Bruscambille is,-inasmuch as a
prologue upon long noses might easily be
done by either, -'twill be no objection
against the simile-to say, That when my
father got home, he solaced himself with
Bruscambille after the manner in which,'tis ten to one, your Worship solaced yourself with your first mistress!-that is, from
morning even unto night: which, by the
bye, how delightful soever it may prove to
the enamorato,-is of little or no entertainment at all to by-standers.-Take notice, I
go no farther with the simile;-my father's


eye was greater than his appetite,-llis zeal
greater than his knowledge,-he cool'd,his affections became divided;-  he got
hold of Prignitz, purchased Scroderus, Andrea Parieus, Bouchet's Evening Conferences, and, above all, the great and learned
Hafen Slawkenbergius; of which, as I shall
have much to say by and by,-I will say
nothing now.
CHAP. XXXVI.
OF all the tracts my father was at the
pains to procure and study, in support of
his hypothesis, there was not any one
wherein he felt a more cruel disappointment at first, than the celebrated Dialogue
between Pamphagus and Codes, written
by the chaste pen of the great and venerable Erasmus, upon the various uses and
seasonable applications of long noses.Now don't let Satan, my dear girl, in this
chapter, take advantage of any one spot of
rising ground to get astride of your imagination, if you can any ways help it; or, if he
is so nimble as to slip on,-let me beg of
you, like an unback'd filly, to frisk it, to
squirt it, to jump it, to rear it, to bound it
-and to kick it, with long kicks, and short
kicks, till, like Tickletoby's mare, you
break a strap or a crupper, and throw his
Worship into the dirt.-You need not kill
him.-And pray, who was Tickletoby's mare.
-'Tis just as discreditable and unscholarlike a question, Sir, as to have asked what
year (ab urb. con.) the second Punic war
broke out.-Who was Tickletoby's mare?
-   Read, read, read, read, my unlearned
reader!-read,-or, by the knowledge of
the great Saint Paraleipomenon,-I tell you
beforehand, you had better throw down the
book at once; for without much reading,
by which your Reverence knows I mean
much knowledge, you will no more be able
to penetrate the moral of the next marbled,
page (motley emblem of my work!) than
the world with all its sagacity has been
able to unravel the many opinions, transactions, and truths, which still.ie mystically hid under the dark veil of the black
one




LIFE AN]D ()Ot'I'ONP




OF TRISTRAM SHANDY.


101


CHAP. XXXVII.                seven miles off-I've done it,-said my
father, snapping his fingers. See, my dear
"NIHIL me pcenitet hujus nasi," quoth brother Toby, how I have mended the
Pamphagus;-that is,-" My nose has been sense.-But you have marr'd a word, rethe making of me."-" Nec est cur pceni- plied my uncle Toby.-  My father put on
teat," replies Codes; that is, "How the his spectacles,-bit his lip,-and tore out
deuce should such a nose fail?"        the leaf in a passion.
The doctrine, you see, was laid down by
Erasmus, as my father wished it, with the 
utmost plainness; but my father's disappointment was, in finding nothing more            CHAP. XXXVIII.
from so able a pen, but the bare fact itself;
without any of that speculative subtilty or  0 SLAWKENBERGIUS! thou faithful analy.
ambidexterity of argumentation upon it, zer of my Disgrazias,-thou sad foreteller
which Heaven had bestow'd upon man, on of so many of the whips and short turns
purpose to investigate Truth, and fight for which in one stage or other of my life have
her on all sides.-My father pish'd and come slap upon'me from the shortness of
pugh'd at first most terribly.-'Tis worth my nose, and no other cause that I am consomething to have a good name. As the scious of,-tell me, Slawkenbergius! what
dialogue was of Erasmus, my father soon secret impulse was it? what intonation of
came to himself, and read it over and over voice? whence came it?-how did it sound
again with great application, studying every in thy ears — art thou sure thou heard'st
word and every syllable of it, through and it -which first cried out to thee,-Go,-go,
through, in its most strict and literal inter- -Slawkenbergius! dedicate the labors of
pretation.-He could still make nothing of thy life,-neglect thy pastimes,-call forth
it, that way. Mayhap, there is more meant all the powers and faculties of thy- nature,
than is said in it, quoth my father.-Learned -macerate thyself in the service of manmen, brother Toby, don't write dialogues kind! and write a grand FOLiO for them,
upon long noses for nothing.-I'll study the upon the subject of their noses.
mystic and the allegoric sense.-Here is   How the communication was conveyed
some room to turn a man's self in, brother. into Slawkenbergius's sensorium,-so that
My father read on,                   Slawkenbergius should know whose finger
Now I find it needful to inform  your touch'd the key-and whose hand it was
Reverences and Worships, that besides the that blew the bellows,-as Hafen Slawkenmany nautical uses of long noses enumer- bergius has been dead and laid in his grave
ated by Erasmus, the dialogist affirmeth, above fourscore and ten years,-we can
That a long nose is not without its domestic only raise conjectures.
conveniences also; for that, in case of dis-  Slawkenbergius was play'd upon, for
tress,-and for want of a pair of bellows, aught I know, like one of Whitfield's disit will do excellently well, ad excitandum ciples;-that is, with such a distinct intellifocum (to stir up the fire).            gence, Sir, of which of the two masters it
Nature had been prodigal in her gifts to was that had been practising upon his inmy father beyond measure, and had sown strument,-as to make all reasoning upon
the seeds of verbal criticism as deep within it needless.
him, as she had done the seeds of all other     For in the account which Hafen
knowledge;-so that he had got out his pen- Slawkenbergius gives the world of his moknife, and was trying experiments upon the tives and occasions for writing, and spendBentence, to see if he could not scratch some ing so many years of his life upon this one
better sense into it.-I've got within a sin- work,-towards the end of his prolegogle letter, brother Toby, cried my father, mena;-which, by the bye, should have
of Erasmus his mystic meaning. —   You come first,-but the bookbinder has most
are near enough, brother, replied my uncle, injudiciously placed it betwixt the analytiin all conscience. — Pshaw! cried my cal contents of the book and the book itself,
tkther, scratching on,-I might as well be -he informs his reader, That evfr since he
9*




102


LIFE ANDNi OPINIONSS


had arrived at the age of discernment, and Tartary, where they are all crush'd down
was able to sit down coolly, and consider by the thumb, so that no judgment can be
within himself the true state and condition formed upon them,-are much nearer alike
of man, and distinguish the main end and than the world imagines;-the difference
design of his being;-or,-to shorten my amongst them being, he says, a mere trifle,
translation, for Slawkenbergius's book is in not worth taking notice of;-but that the
Latin, and not a little prolix in this pas- size and jollity of every individual nose,
sage;-ever since I understood, quoth Slaw- and by which one nose ranks above another,
kenbergius, any thing,-or. rather what was and bears a higher price, is owing to the
what,-and could perceive that the point cartilaginous and muscular parts of it, into
of long noses had been too loosely handled whose ducts and sinuses the blood and aniby all who had gone before, —have I, Slaw- Imal spirits being impell'd and driven by the
kenbergius, felt a strong impulse, with a iwarmth and force of the imagination, which
mighty and unresistible call within me, to is but a step from it (bating the case of
gird up myself to this undertaking.    idiots, whom Prignitz, who had lived many
And to do justice to Slawkenbergius, he years in Turkey, supposes under the more
has entered the list with a stronger lance, immediate tutelage of Heaven)-it so hapand taken a much larger career in it, than pens, and ever must, says Prignitz, that the
any one man who had ever entered it before excellency of the nose is in a direct arithhim:-and indeed, in many respects, de- metical proportion to the excellency of the
serves to be en-nich'd as a prototype for all wearer's fancy.
writers, of voluminous works at least, to  It is for the same reason; that is, because
model their books by;-for he has taken in,'tis all comprehended in Slawkenbergius,
Sir, the whole subject,-examined every that I say nothing likewise of Scroderus
part of it dialcctically,-then brought it (Andrea) who, all the world knows, set
into full day; dilucidating it with all the himself to oppugn Prignitz with great violight which either the collision of his own lence;-proving it in his'own way, first
natural parts could strike,-or the profbund- logically, and then by a series of stubborn
est knowledge of the sciences had empow- facts, "That so far was Prignitz from the
ered him to cast upon it;-collating, collect- truth, in affirming that the fancy begat the
ing, and compiling;-begging, borrowing, nose, that, on the contrary,-the nose begat
and stealing, as he went along, all that had'the fancy."
been wrote or wrangled thereupon in the  -The learned suspected Scroderus of an
schools and porticoes of the learned; so that, indecent sophism in this;-and Prignitz
Slawkenbergius his book may properly be cried out aloud in the dispute, that Scrodeconsidered, not only as a model,-but as a rus had shifted the idea upon him;-but
thorough-stitched DIGEST and regular insti-; Scroderus went on maintaining his thesis.
aute of noses, comprehending in it all that  My father was just balancing within
is or can be needful to be known about himself, which of the two sides he should
them                                   take in this affair; when Ambrose Parmeus
For this cause it is that I forbear to speak decided it in a moment, and, by overthrowof so many (otherwise) valuable books and ing the systems both of Prignitz and Scrotreatises of my father's collecting, wrote derus, drove my father out of both sides of
either plump upon noses,-or collaterally the controversy at once.
touchipng them;-such for instance as Prig-  Be witness,nitz, now lying upon the table before me,  I don't acquaint the learned reader-in
who with infinite learning, and from the saying it,-I mention it only to show the
nost candid and scholar-like examination learned, I know the fact myself,-'f above four thousand different skulls, in  That this Ambrose Parleus was chief surupwards of twenty charnel-houses in Silesia, geon and nose-mender to Francis the Ninth
which he had rummaged,-has informed us, of France; and in high credit with him
that the mensuration. ana configuration of and the two preceding, or succeeding kings
the osseous or bony parts of human noses, (I know not which)-and that, except in
m any given tract of country, except Crim the slip he made in his story of Taliacotius's




OF~ TRISTRAM SHANDY.'Y


103


noses, and in his manner of setting them on, broke in (to-morrow morning) to my uncle
-he was esteemed by the whole college of Toby's fortifications, and eat up two rations
physicians at that time, as more knowing in and a half of dried grass, tearing up the
matters of noses, than any one who had ever sods with it, which faced his horn-work and
taken them in hand.                     covered way. —Trim insists upon being
Now, Ambrose Parteus convinced my tried by a court-martial,-the cow to be
father, that the true and efficient cause of shot,-Slop to be crucifix'd,-myself to be
what had engaged so much the attention of Tristram'd, and at my very baptism  made
the world, and upon which Prignitz and a martyr of;-poor unhappy Devils that we
Scroderus had wasted so much learning and all are!-I want swaddling:-but there'is
fine parts,-was neither this nor that;-  no time to be lost in exclamations,-I have
but that the length and goodness of the nose left my father lying across his bed, my unwas owing simply to the softness and flac- cle Toby in his old fringed chair, sitting becidity in the nurse's breast,-as the flatness side him, and promised I would go back to
and shortness of puisne noses was to the them in half an hour; and five-and-thirty
firmness and elastic repulsion of the same minutes are laps'd already.-Of all the
organ of nutrition in the hale and lively;-  perplexities a mortal author was ever seen
which; though happy for the woman, was the in,-this certainly is the greatest; for I
undoing of the child, inasmuch as his nose have Hafen Slawkenbergius's folio, Sir, to
was so snubb'd, so rebuff'd, so rebated, and finish;-a dialogue between my father and
so refrigerated thereby, as never to arrive my uncle Toby, upon the solution of Prigad mensuram suam legitimam;-but that nitz, Scroderus, Ambrose Paraeus, Panocrain case of the flaccidity and softness of the tes, and Grangousier to relate;-a tale out
nurse or mother's breast-by sinking into of Slawkenbergius to translate; and all this
it, quoth Paraeus, as into so much butter, the in five minutes less than no time at all.nose was comforted, nourish'd, plump'd up, Such a head! would to Heaven my enerefresh'd, refocillated, and set a growing for mies only saw the inside of it.
ever.
I have but two things to observe of Parueus; first, That he proves and explains all
this with the utmost chastity and decorum          CHAP    XXXIX
of expression:-for which, may his soul for
ever rest in peace!                       THERE was not any one scene more enAnd, secondly, That besides the systems tertaining in our family;-and to do it jusof Prignitz and Scroderus, which Ambrose tice in this point,-I here put off my cap
Paraeus his hypothesis effectually overthrew, and lay it upon the table, close beside my
-it overthrew at the same time the system ink-horn, on purpose to make my declaration
of peace and harmony of our family; and to the world concerning this one article
for three days together, not only embroiled the more solemn,-That I believe, in my
matters between my father and my mother, soul (unless my love and partiality to my
but turn'd likewise the whole house and understanding blinds me) the hand of the
every thing in it, except my uncle Toby, Supreme Maker and First Designer of all
quite upside down.                     things, never made or put a family together
Such a ridiculous tale of a dispute be- (in that period at least of it which I have
tween a man and his wife, never surely in sat down to write the story of)-where the
any age or country, got vent through the characters of it were castor contrasted witLh
key-hole of a street-door.             so dramatic a felicity as ours was, for this
My mother, you must know, —    but I end: or in which the capacities of affording
have fifty things more necessary to let you such exquisite scenes, and the powers ot
know first;-I have a hundred difficulties shifting them perpetually from morning to
which I have promised to clear up, and a night, were lodged and intrusted with si,
thousand distresses and domestic misadven- unlimited a confidence, as in the Shandv
tures crowding in upon me thick and three- Family.
fold, one upon the neck of another. A cow  Not any one of these was more divortin,a




104


LinE AND O CPTNIONS


I say, in this whimsical theatre of ours,-  same fashion, and oft-times to make very
than what frequently arose out of this self- well out too:  but that's neither here nor
same chapter of' long noses,-especially there:when my father's imagination was heated   The gift of doing it as it should be, amongst
with the inquiry, and nothing would serve us, or, the great and principal act of ratiocihim but to heat my uncle Toby's too.    nation in man, as logicians tell us, is the
My uncle Toby would give my father all finding out the agreement or disagreement
possible fair play in this attempt; and with in- of two ideas one with another, by the interfinite patience would sit smoking his pipe for vention of a third (called the medius terziwhole hours together, whilst my father was nus') just as a man, as Locke well observes,
practising upon his head, and trying every by a yard, finds two men's nine-pin-alleys
accessible avenue to drive Prignitz and to be of the same length, which could not
Scroderus's solutions into it.          be brought together, to measure their equaliWhether they were above my uncle To- ty, by juxta-position.
by's reason,-or contrary to it,-or that his  Had the same great reasoner looked on, as
brain was like damp tinder, and no spark my father illustrated his systems of' noses,
could possibly take hold; or that it was so and observed my uncle Toby's deportment,full of saps, mines, blinds, curtains, and such what great attention he gave to every word;
military disqualifications to his seeing clearly -and as oft as he took his pipe from his mouth,
into Prignitz and Scroderus's doctrines,-I with what wonderful seriousness he contemsay not;-let schoolmen,-scullions,-anat- plated the length of it!-surveying it transomists, and engineers, fight for it among versely as he held it betwixt his finger and
themselves. —                           his thumb;-then fore-right,-then this way,'Twas some misfortune, I make no doubt, and then that, in all its possible directions
in this affair, that my father had every word and fore-shortenings,-he would have conof it to translate for the benefit of my uncle cluded my uncle Toby had got hold of the
Toby, and render out of Slawkenbergius's medius terminus, and was syllogizing and
Latin, of which, as he was no great master, measuring with it the truth of each hypothehis translation was not always of the purest, sis of long noses, in order, as my father laid
-and generally least so where'twas most them before him. This, by the bye, was
wanted. This naturally open'd a door to a more than my father wanted:-his aim in all
second misfortune;-that in the warmer the pains he was at in these philosophic lecparoxysms of his zeal to open my uncle To- tures,-was to enable my uncle Toby not
bv's eyes,-my father's ideas ran on as much to discuss,-but comprehend; —to hold the
faster than the translation, as the translation grains and scruples of learning,-not to
outmoved my uncle Toby's —   neither the weigh! them.-  My uncle Toby, as you
one or the other added much to the perspicu- will read in the next chapter, did neither
ity of my father's lecture.            the one or the other.
CHAP. XLI.
CHAP. XL.'TIS a pity, cried my father, one winter's
THE gift of ratiocination and making syl- night after a three hours' painful translation
logisms,-I mean in man,-for in superior of Slawkenbergius,-'tis a pity, cried my
c'asses of beings, such as angels and spirits, father, putting my mother's thread-papeT
-'tis all done, may it please your Wor- into the book for a mark as he spoke,-that
ships, as they tell me, by INTUITION;-and Truth, brother Toby, should shut herself up
reings inferior, as your Worships all know, in such impregnable fastnesses, and be sc
-syllogize by their noses; though there is obstinate as not tosurrender herself up somean island swimming in the sea (though not times upon the closest siege.altogether at its ease) whose inhabitants, if  Now it happened then, as indeed it had




I
i


m     ty mrellience deceives me not, are so otten done betore, that my uncle Toby's thnwondcrfullv gifted, as to syllogize after the, cy, during the time of my father's e xpana.




OF TRISTRAM      SHANDY.                       105
tion of Prignitz to him,-having nothing to off so like gun-powder, as the unexpected
stay it there, had taken a short flight to the strokes his science met with from'the quaint
bowling-green: —his body might as well simplicity of my uncle Toby's questions,
have taken a turn there too:-so that with — Had ten dozen of hornets stung him
all the semblance of a deep school-man in- behind in so many different places all at
tent upon the medius terminus,-my uncle one time,-he could not have exerted more
Toby was in fact as ignorant of the whole mechanical functions in fewer seconds,lecture, and all its pro's and con's, as if my or started half so much, as with one single
father had been translating Hafen Slawken- qucere of three words unseasonably popping
bergius from  the Latin tongue into the in full upon him in his hobby-horsical career.
Cherokee. But the word siege, like a talis-'Twas all one to my uncle Toby;-he
manic power, in my father's metaphor, waft- smoked his pipe on with unvaried compoing back my uncle Toby's fancy, quick as sure; his heart never intended offence to
a note could follow the touch,-he open'd his brother;-and as his head could seldom
his ears;-and my father observing that he find out where the sting of it lay,-he altook his pipe out of his mouth; and shuffled ways gave my father the credit of cooling
his chair nearer the table, as with a desire by himself. —-He was five minutes a'nd
to profit,-my fatherwith great pleasure be- thirty-five seconds about it in the present
gan his sentence again, changing only the case.
plan, and dropping the metaphor of the   By all that's good! said my father, swearsiege in it, to keep clear of some dangers ing, as he came to himself, and taking the
my father apprehended from it.        oath out of Ernulphus's digest of curses-'Tis a pity, said my father, that truth can (though, to do my father justice, it was a
only be on one side, brother Toby,-con- fault, as he told Dr. Slop in the affair of
sidering what ingenuity these learned men Ernulphus, which he as seldom committed
have all shown in their solutions of noses. as any man upon earth,) —By all that's
— Can noses be dissolved l replied my good and great! brother Toby, said my
uncle Toby.                           father, if it was not for the aids of philoso-My father thrust back his chair, rose phy, which befriend one so much as they
up,-put on his hat,-took four long strides do,-you would put a man beside all temper.
to the door,-jerked it open,-thrust his -Why, by the solutions of noses, of which
head half-way out,-shut the door again,-  I was telling you, I meant, as you might
took no notice of the bad hinge,-returned have known, had you favored me with one
to the table,-pluck'd my mother's thread- grain of attention, the various accounts,
paper out of Slawkenbergius's book,-went which learned men of different kinds of
hastily to his bureau,-walked slowly back, knowledge have given the world of the
-twisted my mother's thread-paper about causes of short and long noses. —There
his thumb, - unbiftton'd his waistcoat, -  is no cause but one, replied my uncle Toby,
threw my mother's thread-paper into the fire, -why one man's nose is longer than an-bit her satin pin-cushion in two,-fill'd other's, but because that God pleases to
his mouth with bran,-confounded it:-but have it so.- That is Grangousier's solumark!-the oath of confusion was levell'd tion, said my father. —'Tis he, continued
at my uncle Toby's brain,-which was e'en my uncle Toby looking up, and not regardconfused enough already;-the curse came ing my father's interruption, who makes
charged only with the bran-the bran, may us all, and frames and puts us together in
itplease your Honors, was no more than such forms and proportions, and for such
powder to the ball.                   ends, as is agreeable to his infinite wisdom.'Twas well my father's passions lasted -'Tis a pious account, cried my father, but
not long; for so long as they did last, they not philosophical;-there is more religion
led him a busy life on't; and it is one of in it than sound science.'Twas no inconthe most unaccountable problems that ever sistent part of my uncle Toby's character
I met with in, my observations of human -that he feared God, and reverenced'renature, that nothing should prove my father's ligion.-So the moment my father finished
mettle so much, or make his passions go his remark,-my uncle Toby fell a whis0




106


LIFE AND OPINIONS


tling Lillibullero with more zeal (though
more out of tune) than usual.What is become of my wife's threadpaper 1
CHAP. XLII.
No matter;-as an appendage to seamstressy, the thread-paper might be of some
consequence to my mother;-of none to
my father as a mark in Slawkenbergius.Slawkenbergius, in every page of him, was
a rich treasure of inexhaustible knowledge
to my father.-he could not open him amiss;
and he would often say in closing the book,
That if all the arts and sciences in the world,
with the books which treated of them, were
lost,-should the wisdom and policies of
governments, he, would say, through disuse,
ever happen to be forgot; and all that
statesmen had wrote or caused to be written,
upon the strong or the weak sides of courts
and kingdoms, should they be forgot also,
-and Slawkenbergius only left, -there
would be enough in him in all conscience,
he would say, to set the world a-going again.
A treasure, therefore, was he indeed! an
institute of all that was necessary to be
known of noses, and every thing else: —at
matin, noon, and vespers, was Hafen Slawkenbergius his recreation and delight:'twas
tbr ever in his hands:-you would have


sworn, Sir, it had been a canon's prayer
book-:-so worn, so glazed, so contrited ana
attrited was it with fingers and with thumbs
in all its parts, from one end even unto the
other.
I am not such a bigot to Slawkenbergius
as my father: — there is a fund in him,
no doubt! but in my opinion, the best, 1
don't say the most profitable, but the most
amusing part of Hafen Slawkenbergius is
his Tales; -and considering he was a
German, many of them told not without
fancy. —
These take up his second book, containing
nearly one half of his folio, and are comprehended in ten decades; each decade containing ten tales.-Philosophy is not built
upon tales: and therefore'twas certainly
wrong in Slawkenbergius to send them into
the world by that name!-there are a few
of them in his eighth, ninth, and tenth decades, which, I own, seem rather playful
and sportive than speculative;-but, in
general, they are to be looked upon by the
learned as a detail of so many independent
facts, all of them turning round, somehow
or other, upon the main hinges of his subject,
and collected by him with great fidelity
and added to his work as so many illustrations upon the doctrines of noses.
As we have leisure enough upon our
hands,-if you give me leave, Madam, I'll
tell you the ninth tale of his tenth decade




THE
LIFE AND OPINIONS
OF


GENTLEMAN.


SLAWKENBERGII FABELLA.*
VESPERA quadam frigiduls, posteriori in
parte mensis Augusti, peregrinus, mulo
fusco colore incidens, mantica a tergo, paucis
indusiis, binis calceis, braccisque sericis
coccineis repleta, Argentoratum ingressus
est.
Militi eum percontanti, quum portus intraret dixit, se apud Nasorum Promontorium
fuisse, Francofurtum proficisci, et Argentoratum, transitu ad fines Sarmatie mensis
interv'llo, reversurum.
T-'les peregrlnl in faciem suspexit:PA boni, nova forma nasi!
At multum mihi profuit, inquit peregrinus,
carpum amento extrahens, e quo pependit
acinaces: Loculo manum inseruit; et magna
cum urbanitate, pilei parte anteriore tacta
manu sinistra, ut extendit dextram, militi
florinum dedit et processit.
Dolet mihi, ait miles, tympanistam manum
et valgum alloquens, virum adeo urbanum
vaginam perdidisse: itineravi haud poterit
nuda acinaci: neque vaginam toto Argentorato, habilem  inveniet.  Nullam  unquam habui, respondit peregrinus respiciens
--  seque comiter inclinans-hoc more
gesto, nudam acinacem elevans, mulo lente
progrediente, ut nasum tueri possim.


SLAWKENBERGIUS'S TALE.
IT was one cool, refreshing evening, at
the close of a very sultry day, in the latter
end of the month of August, when a stranger, mounted upon a dark mule, with a
small cloak-bag behind him, containing a
few shirts, a pair of shoes, and a crimsonsatin pair of breeches, entered the town of
Strasburg.
He told the sentinel, who questioned him
as he entered the gates, that he had been
at the Promontory of Noses,-was going
on to Frankfort,-and should be back again
at Strasburg that day month, in his way
to the borders of Crim Tartary.
The sentinel looked up into the stranger's
face -   he never saw such a Nose in his
life!
-I have made a very good venture of it,
quoth the stranger;-so slipping his wrist
out of the loop of a black ribbon, to which
a short scimitar was hung, he put his hand
into his pocket, and with great courtesy
touching the fore-part of his cap with his
left hand, as he extended his right,-he put
a florin into the sentinel's hand, and passed
on.
It grieves me, said the sentinel, speaking
to a little dwarfish bandy-legg'd drummer,
that so courteous a soul should have lost
his scabbard;-he cannot travel without
one to his scimitar; and will not be able to
get a scabbard to fit it in all Strasburg.I never had one, replied the stranger, looking back to the sentinel, and putting his
hand up to his cap as he spoke.-I carry it,
continued he, thus:-holding up his naied


* As Hafen Slawkenbergius de Nasis is extremely
scrce, it may not be unacceptable to the learned
reader to see the specimen of a few pages of his original, I will make no reflection upon it, but that his


story-telling Latin is much more concise than his
philosophic,-and, I think, has more of Latlnmtv in




108


LIFE AND OPINIONS


I


Non immerito, benigne peregrine, respondit miles.
Nihili aestimo, ait ille tympanista, 6 pergament factitius est.
Prout christianus sum, inquit miles, nasus
ille, ni sexties major sit, meo esset conformis.
Crepitare audivi, ait tympanista.
Mehercule! sanguinam emisit, respondit
miles.
Miseret me, inquit tympanista, qui non
ambo tetigimus!
Eodem  temporis puncto, quo hwec res
vrgumentata fuit inter militem et tympan-,stam, disceptabatur ibidem tubicine et uxore
sua, qui tunc accesserunt, et peregrino praetereunte, restiterunt.
Quantus nasus! maque longus est, ait tuoDcina, ac tuba.
Et ex eodem metallo, ait tubicen, velut
sternutamento audias.
Tantum abest, respondit illa, quod fistulam dulcedine vincit.
AEneus est, ait tubicen.
Nequaquam, respondit uxor.
Rursum affirmo, ait tubicen, quod aeneus
est.
Rem penitus explorabo; prius, enim digito
tangam, ait uxor, quam dormivero.
Mulus peregrini gradu lento progressus
est, ut unumquodque verbum controversike,
non tantum inter militem et tympanistam,
verum etiam inter tubicinem et uxorem
ejus, audiret.
Nequaquam, ait ille, in muli collum friena
demittens, et manibus ambabus in pectus
positis (mulo lente progrediente) nequaq(uam, ait ille respiciens, non necesse est ut
res isthaec dilucidata foret. Minime gentium! meus nasus nunquam tangetur, dum
sniritus hos reget artus-Ad quid agendum.
slt uxor burgomagistri
1Peregrinus illi non respondit. Votum
facieba,. tune ternmporis sancto Nicolao: quo
~cto, in sinum dextrum inserens, e qua


It is well worth it, - gentle stranger,, replied the sentinel.'Tis not  orth  single. stiver, sa'd
the bandy-legg'd drummer:     tis a nose
of parchment.
As I am a true Catholic,.-except that it
is six times as' big, —4is a nose, said the
sentinel, like my own.
-1 beard it crackle, said the drummer.
By dunder, said the sentinel, I saw it
bleed.
What, a pity, cried the bandy-legg'd
drummer- we did not both touch it!
At the very time that this dispute-was
maintaining by the sentinel and the drummer-was the same point debatin betwixt
a trumpeter and a trumpeter's wife, who
were justthen coming up, and had stopp'd
-to see the stranger pass by.
Benedicity!What a nose!-.-2tis as
long, said the trumpeter's wife, as alrum
pet.
 And of the same metal, said the trumpeter, as you bear by- its sneezing.'Tis as soft as a flute, said she.
_'Tis brass, said thetrumpeter.
_'Tis a pudding's end, said his wife.
I tell tbee again, said the trumpeter-,'tis
a brazen nose.
I'll know' the bottom of it, said the trum.
peter's wife, for I will touch it with my
finger-before I sleep.
The stranger's mule moved on at so slow
a rate, that he heard every word of the
dispute, not only betwixt the sentinel and
the drummer, but betwixt the trumpeter
and the trumpeter's wife.
No! - said be, dropping his reins upon his
ryfule's neck, and laying both his hands upon
his breast, the one over the other in a saintlike pbsition (his mule going on easily all
the time) No! said he, looking up,-I am
not such a debtor to the world,-slandered
and disappointed as I have been,-as to
give -it that conviction  no! said -he, my
nose shall never be touched whilst Heaven
gives me strengthTo do what! said a
bIurgomaster's wife.
The stranger took no notice of the burgo
master's wife;-he was making a vow to
Saint Nicholas; which done, havina un


scimitar, his mule moving on slowly all the
time,-on purpose to defend my nose.
It is well worth it, gentle stranger, replied the sentinel.
-'Tis not worth a single stiver, said
the bandy-legg'd drummer:-'tis a nose
of parchment.
As I am a true Catholic,-except that it
is six times as big, —'tis a nose, said the
sentinel, like my own.
-I heard it crackle, said the drummer.
By dunder, said the sentinel, I saw it
bleed.
What a pity, cried the bandy-legg'd
drummer, we did not both touch it!
At the very time that this dispute was
maintaining by the sentinel and the drummer-was the same point debating betwixt
a trumpeter and a trumpeter's wife, who
were just then coming up, and had stopp'd
to see the stranger pass by.
Benedicity!  What a nose! —'tis as
long, said the trumpeter's wife, as a trum
pet.
And of the same metal, said the trumpeter, as you hear by. its sneezing.'Tis as soft as a flute, said she.
-'Tis brass, said the trumpeter.
-'Tis a pudding's end, said his wife.
I tell thee again, said the trumpeter,'tis
a brazen nose.
I'll know the bottom of it, said the trum
peter's wife, for I will touch it with my
finger before I sleep.
The stranger's mule moved on at so slow
a rate, that he heard every word of the
dispute, not only betwixt the sentinel and
the drummer, but betwixt the trumpeter
and the trumpeter's wife.
No! said he, dropping his reins upon his
mule's neck, and laying both his hands upon
his breast, the one over the other in a saintlike position (his mule going on easily all
the time) No! said he, looking up,-I am
not such a debtor to the world,-slandered
and disappointed as I have been,-as to
give it that conviction: —no! said he, my
nose shall never be touched whilst Heaven
gives me strength-To do what! said a
burgomaster's wife.
The stranger took no notice of the burgo
master's wife; —he was making a vow to
Saint Nicholas; which done, havin, un




OF TRISTRAM      SHANDY.                        109
negligenter pependit acinaces, lento gradu crossed his arms with the same solemnity
processit per plateam Argentorati latam with which he crossed them, he took up
que ad diversorium templo ex adversum the reins of his bridle with his left hand,
ducit.                                 and putting his right hand into his bosom.
with his scimitar hanging loosely to the
wrist of it, he rode on, as slowly as one foot
of the mule could follow another, through
the principal streets of Strasburg, till chance
brought him to the great inn in the marketplace, over-against the church.
Peregrinus mulo descendens stabulo in-  The moment the stranger alighted, he
cludi, et manticam inferri jussit; qua aperta ordered his mule to be led into the stable,
et coccineis sericis femorabilis extractis and his cloak-bag to be brought in; then
cum argento laciniato Illptoauvst, his sese opening, and taking out of it his crimsoninduit, statimque, acinaci in manu, ad'forum satin breeches, with a silver-fringed-(apdeambulavit.                           pendage to them, which I dare not translate)-he put his breeches, with his fringed
cod-piece on, and forthwith, with his short
scimitar in his hand, walked out to the
grand parade.
Quod ubi peregrinus esset ingressus, uxo-  The stranger had just taken three turns
rem tubicinis obviam euntem aspicit; illico upon the parade, when he perceived the
cursum flectit, metuens ne nasus suus ex- trumpeter's wife at the opposite side of it;
ploraretur, atque ad diversorium, regressus -so turning short, in pain lest his nose
est-exuit se vestibus; braccas coccineas should be attempted, he instantly went
sericas manticae imposuit mulumque educi back to his inn,-undressed himself, packed
Jussit.                                up his crimson-satin breeches, &c. in his
cloak-bag, and called for his mule.
Francofurtunm proficiscor, ait ille, et Ar-  I am going forwards, said the stranger,
gentoratem quatuor abhinc hebdomadis re- for Frankfort-and shall be back at Strasvertar.                                burg this day month.
Bene curasti hoc jumentum? (ait) muli  I hope, continued the stranger, stroking
faciem manu demulcens-me, manticam- down the face of his mule with his left
que meam, plus sexcentis mille passibus hand as he was going to mount it, that you
portavit.                              have been kind to this faithful slave of




Longa via est! respondit hospes, nisi
plurimum  esset negotii.-Enimvero, ait
peregrinus, a Nasorum Promontorio redivi,
et nasum speciosissimum, egregiosissimumque quem unquam quisquam sortitus est,
acquisivi.
Dum peregrinus hanc miram   rationem
de seipso reddit, hospes et uxor ejus, oculis
intentis, peregrini nasum contemplantur
— Per sanctos sanctasque omnes, ait hospitis uxor, nasis duodecim maximis in toto
Argentorato major est!-estrle, ait illa mariti
in aurem insusurrans, nonne est nasus prmgrandis.




mine:-it has carried me and my cloakbag, continued he, tapping the mule's back,
above six hundred leagues.'Tis a long journey, Sir, replied the
master of the inn,-unless a man has great
business.-Tut! tut! said the stranger,
I have been at the Promontory of Noses;
and have got me one of the goodliest and
jolliest, thank Heaven, that ever fell to a
single man's lot.
Whilst the stranger was giving this odd
account of himself, the master of the inn
and his wife kept both their eyes fixed full
upon the stranger's nose.-By Saint Radagunda, said the inn-keeper's wife to herself, there is more of it than in any dozen
of the largest noses put together in all
Strasburg! Is it not, said she, whispering
10




110


LIFE AND OPINIONS


Dolus inest, anime mi, ait hospes-nasus
est falsus.
Verus est, respondit uxor.
Ex abiete factus est, ait ille, terebinthinum olet.
Carbunculus inest, ait uxor.
Mortuus est nasus, respondit hospes.
Vivus est, ait illa, —et si ipsa vivam, tangam.
Votum feci sancto Nicolao, ait peregrinus, nasum meum intactum fore usque ad
-Quodnam tempus? illico respondit illa.
Minime tangetur, inquit ille (manibus in
pectus compositis) usque ad illam horam
Quam horam 1 ait illa —   Nullam, resDondit peregrinus, donec pervenio adQuem locum, —obsecro? ait illa-Peregrinus nil respondens mulp conscenso discessit.


her husband in his ear, is it not a noble
nose?'Tis an imposture, my dear, said the master of the inn;-'tis a false nose.'Tis a true nose, said his wife.'Tis made of fir-tree, said he; I smell
the turpentine.T'here's a pimple on it, said she.'Tis a dead nose, replied the inn-keeper.'Tis a live nose; and if I am alive myself, said the inn-keeper's wife, I will
touch it.
I have made a vow to St. Nicholas this
day, said the stranger, that my nose shall
not be touched till-. Here the stranger,
suspending his voice, looked up.-Till
when? said she hastily.
It never shall be touched, said he, clasping his hands and bringing them close to
his breast, till that hour — What hour?
cried the inn-keeper's wife- Never!never! said the stranger, never till I am
got —For Heaven's sake, into what place?
said she. —-The stranger rode away
without saying a word.
The stranger had not got half a league
on his way towards Frankfort, before all the
city of Strasburg was in an uproar about
his nose. The Compline bells were just
ringing, to call the Strasburgers to their devotions, and shut up the duties of the day
in prayer;-no soul in all Strasburg heard'em,-the city was like a swarm of bees,men, women,-and children, (the Compline
bells tinkling all the time) flying here and
there,-in at one door and out at another,this way and that way,-long ways and
cross ways,-up one street, down another
street,-in at this alley, out at that; did
you see it? did ymu see it? did you see it?
O! did you see it? —who saw it! who
did see it? for mercy's sake, who saw it 
AlaCk-a-day! I was at vespers!-I was
washing, I was starching, I was scouring,
I was quilting. —-God help me! I never
saw it-I never touch'd it!-would I had
been a sentinel, a bandy-legg'd drummer, a
trumpeter, a trumpeter's wife, was the general cry and lamentation in every street
and corner of Strasburg.
Whilst all this confusion and disorder
triumphed throughout the great city of
Strasburg, was the courteous stranger going




OF TRISTRAM SHANDY.


11


on as gently upon his mule, in his way to
Frankfort, as if he had no concern at all in
the affair,-talking all the way he rode
in broken sentences, sometimes to his mule,
-sometimes to himself,-sometimes to his
Julia.
O Julia, my lovely Julia;-nay, I cannot
stop to let thee bite that thistle:-that ever
the suspected tongue of a rival should have
robbed me of enjoyment when I was upon
the point of tasting it!-   Pugh!-'tis nothing but a thistlenever mind it;-thou shalt have a better
supper at night.
--  Banish'd from  my country,-my
friends,-from thee. —
Poor devil, thou'rt sadly tired with thy
journey!-  Come, get on a little faster,
-there's nothing in my cloak-bag but two
shirts,-a crimson-satin pair of breeches,and a fringed-Dear Julia!
-   But why to Frankfort- is it that
there is a hand unfelt, which secretly is
conducting me through these meanders and
unsuspected tracts l
Stumbling! by Saint Nicholas, every
step'!-Why, at this rate, we shall be all
night in getting in —
To happiness;-or am I to be the
sport of fortune and slander?-destined to
be driven forth unconvicted, — unheard,
— untouch'd;-if so, why did I not stay at
Strasburg, where justice-but I had sworn!
Come, thou shalt drink-to St. NicholasO Julia!-  What dost thou prick up thy
ears at?-'tis nothing but a man, &c.
The stranger rode on communing in this
manner with his mule and Julia,-till he
arrived at his inn, where, as soon as he arrived, he alighted;-saw his mule, as he
nad promised it, taken good care of,-took
off his cloak-bag, with his crimson-satin
breeches, &c. in it,-called for an omelet
for his supper, went to his bed about twelve
o'clock. and in five minutes fell fast asleep.
It was about the same hour when the
tumult in Strasburg being abated for that
night,-the Strasburgers had all got quietly
into their beds,-but not like the stranger,
for the rest either of their minds or bodies;
Queen Mab, like an elf as she was, had
taken the stranger's nose, and, without reduction of its bulk, had that night been at


many noses of different cuts 4nd fashions,
as there were heads in Stratburg to hold
them. The abbess of Quedlingberg, who,
with the four great dignitaries of her chapter, the prioress, the deaness, the subchantress, and senior-canoness, had that
week come to Strasburg, to consult the
university upon a case of conscience relating
to their placket-holes,-was ill all the night.
The courteous stranger's nose had got
perched upon the top of the pineal gland of
her brain, and made such rousing work in
the fancies of the four great dignitaries of
her chapter, they could not get a wink of
sleep the whole night through for it;there was no keeping a limb still amongst
them:-in short, they got up like so many
ghosts.
The penitentiaries of the third order of
Saint Francis,-the nuns of Mount Calvary,
-the Praemonstratenses,-the Clunienses*,
-the Carthusians,-and all the severer orders of nuns who lay that night in blankets
or hair-cloth, were still in a worse condition
than the abbess of Quedlingberg;-by tumbling and tossing, and tossing and tumbling
from one side of their beds to the other, the
whole night long;-the several sisterhoods
had scratch'd and maul'd themselves all to
death;-they got out of their beds almost
flay'd alive;-every body thought Saint
Anthony had visited them for probation
with his fire;-they had never once, in
short, shut their eyes the whole night long
from vespers to matins.
The nuns of Saint Ursula acted the
wisest;-they never attempted to go to bed
at all.
The dean of Strasburg, the prebendaries,
the capitulars and domiciliars (capitularly
assembled in the morning to consider the
case of butter'd buns) all wished they had
followed the nuns of Saint Ursula's example.
In the hurry and confusion every thing
had been in the night before, the bakers had
all forgot to lay their leaven,-there were
no butter'd buns to be had for breakfast in
all Strasburg:-the whole close of the
cathedral was in one eternal commotion:
* Hafen Slawkenbergius means the Benedictine
nuns of Cluny, founded in the year 940, by Odo, abbe


mne pains of slitting and dividing it into asl


de Cluny.




112


LIFE AND OPINIONS


such a cause of restlessness and disquietude,
and such a zealous inquiry into the cause
of that restlessness, had never happened in
Strasburg, since Martin Luther, with his
doctrines, had turned the city-upside down.
If the stranger's nose took this liberty of.hrusting himself thus into the dishes* of
religious orders, &c. what a carnival did
his nose make of it in those of the laity!-'tis more than my pen, worn to the stump
as it is, has power to describe; though, I
acknowledge, (cries Slawkenbergius, with
more gaiety of thought than I could have
expected from him) that there is many a
good simile now subsisting in the world
which might give my countrymen some
idea of it; but at the close of such a folio as
this, wrote for their sakes, and in which I
have spent the greatest part of my life,though I own to them the simile is in being,
yet would it not be unreasonable in them to
expect I should have either time or inclination to search for it Let it suffice to say,
that the riot and disorder it occasioned in
the Strasburgers' fantasies was so general,
-such an overpowering mastership had it
got of all the faculties of the Strasburgers'
minds,-so many strange things, with equal
confidence on all sides, and with equal
eloquence in all places, were spoken and
sworn to concerning it, that turned the
whole stream of all discourse and wonder
towards it; every soul, good and bad,-rich
and poor,-learned and unlearned,-doctor
and student,-mistress and maid,-gentle
and simple,-nun's flesh and woman's flesh,
in Strasburg, spent their time in hearing
tidings about it;-every eye in Strasburg
languished to see it;-every finger,-every
thumb in Strasburg,-burned to touch it.
Now what might add, if any thing may
e thought necessary to add, to so vehement
a desire, was this,-that the sentinel, the
bandy-legg'd drummer, the trumpeter, the
trumpeter's wife, the burgomaster's widow,
the master of the inn, and the master of the
inn's wife, how widely soever they all differed every one from another in their testi



monies and descriptions of the stranger's
nose,-they all agreed together in two
points,-namely, that he was gone to Frankfort, and would not return to Strasburg till
that day month; and secondly, whether his
nose was true or false, that the stranger
himself was one of the most perfect paragons of beauty,-the finest made man,the most genteel!-the most generous of
his purse,-the most courteous in his carriage, that had ever entered the gates of
Strasburg;-that as he rode, with his scimitar slung loosely to his wrist, through the
streets, —and walked with his crimson-satin
breeches across the parade,-'twas with so
sweet an air of careless modesty, and so
manly withal,-as would have put the
heart in jeopardy (had his nose not stood in
his way) of every virgin who had cast her
eyes upon him.
I call not upon that heart which is a
stranger to the throbs and yearnings of curiosity, so excited, to justify the abbess of
Quedlingberg, the prioress, the deaness,
and sub-chantress, for sending at noon-day
for the trumpeter's wife: she went through
the streets of Strasburg with her husband's
trumpet in her hand,-the best apparatus
the straitness of the time would allow her,
for the illustration of her theory,-she staid
no longer than three days.
The sentinel and the bandy-legg'd drummer!-nothing on this side of old Athens
could equal them! they read their lectures
under the city-gates to comers and goers,
with all the pomp of a Chrysippus and a
Crantor in their porticoes.
The master of the inn, with his ostler on
his left hand, read his also in the same
style,-under the portico or gateway of his
stable-yard;-his wife, hers more privately
in a back room. All flocked to their lectures; not promiscuously,-but to this or
that, as is ever the way, as faith and credulity marshall'd them. In a word, each Strasburger came crowding for intelligence;and every Strasburger had the intelligence
he wanted.'Tis worth remarking, for the benefit of
all demonstrators in natural philosophy, &c.
that as soon as the trumpeter's wife had
finished the abbess of Quedlingberg's private lecture, and had begun to read in public, which she did upon a stool in the middle


* Mr. Shandy's compliments to orators,-is very
sensible that Slawkenbergius has here changed his
metaphor,-which he is very guilty of;-that, as a
translator, Mr. Shandy has all along done what he
could to make him stick to it,-bu that here'twas
impossible






OF TRISTRAM SHANDY.


113


of the great parade,-she incommoded the
other demonstrators mainly, by gaining incontinently the most'fashionable part of the
city of Strasburg for her auditory.- But
when a demonstrator in philosophy (cries
Slawkenbergius) has a trumpet for an apparatus, pray what rival in science can
pretend to be heard besides him?
Whilst the unlearned, through these conduits of intelligence, were all, busied in
getting down to the bottom of the well,
where TRUTH keeps her little court,were the learned in their way as busy in
pumping her up through the conduits of
dialect induction;-they concerned themselves not with facts,-they reasoned.
Not one profession had thrown more light
upon this subject than the Faculty, —' had
not all their disputes about it run into the
affair of wens and mdematous swellings,
they could not keep clear of them for their
bloods and souls.-The stranger's nose had
nothing to do either with wens or edematous swellings.
It was demonstrated, however, very satisfactorily, that such a ponderous mass of
heterogeneous matter could not be congested and conglomerated to the nose,
whiilst the infant was in uttero, without destroying the statical balance of the fmtus,
and throwing it plump upon its head nine
months before the time.--  The opponents granted the theory;
-they denied the consequences.
And if a suitable provision of veins, arteries, &c. said they, was not laid in, for the
due nourishment of such a nose, in the very
first stamina and rudiments of its formation,
before it came into the world (bating the
case of wens), it could not regularly grow
and be sustained afterwards.
This was all answered by a dissertation
upon nutriment, and the effect which nutriment had in extending the vessels; and
in the increase and prolongation of the
muscular parts of the greatest growth and
expansion imaginable.-In the triumph of
which theory, they went so far as to affirm,
That there was no cause in nature why a
nose should not grow to the size of the man
himself.
The respondents satisfied the world this
event could never happen to them so long
as a man had but one stomach and one pair
P


of lungs:-for the stomach, said they, being
the only organ destined for the reception
of food, and turning it into chyle, and the
lungs the only engine of sanguification,it could possibly work off no more than
what the appetite brought it: or,,admitting
the possibility of a man's overloading his
stomach, nature had set bounds however to
his lungs,-the engine was of a determined
size and strength, and could elaborate but
a certain'quantity in a given time;-that
is, it could produce just as much blood as
was sufficient for one single man, and no
more; so that, if there was as much nose
as man,-they proved a mortification must
necessarily ensue; and forasmuch as there
could not be a support for both, that the
nose must either fall off from the man, or
the man inevitably fall off from his nose.
Nature accommodates herself to these
emergencies, cried the opponents, -else
what do you say to the case of a whole
stomach,-a whole pair of lungs, and but
haf^ a man, when both his legs have been
unfortunately shot off?
He dies of a plethora, said they,-or
must spit blood, and in a fortnight or three
weeks go off in a consumption.-It happens otherwise, replied the
opponents.It ought not, said they.
The more curious and intimate inquirers
after Nature and her doings, though they
went hand in hand a good way together,
yet they all divided about the nose-at last.
almost as much as the Faculty itself.
They amicably laid it down, that there
was a just and geometrical arrangement
and proportion of the several parts of the
human frame to its several destinations,
offices, and functions, which could not be
transgressed but within certain limits;that Nature, though she sported, - she
sported within a certain circle,-and they
could not agree about the diameter of it.
The logicians stuck much closer to the
point before them than any of the classes
of the literati;-they began and ended with
the word Nose; and had it not been for a
petitio principii, which one of the ablest ot
them ran his head against in the beginning
of the combat, the whole controversy had
been settled at once.
A nose, argued the logician, cannot b;eed
10*




114


LIFE AND OPINTIONS\J


without blood,-and not only blood,-but the point incontestably, had it not appeared
blood circulating in it to supply the phe- that a dispute about some franchises of dear
nomenon with a succession of drops-(a and chapter-lands, had been determined by
stream being but a quicker succession of it nineteen years before.
drops, that is included, said he.) — Now    It happened,-I must not say unluckily
death, continued the logician, being nothing for Truth, because they were giving her a
but the stagnation of the blood,-         lift another way in so doing, that the tw(
I deny the definition:-death is the sepa- universities of Strasburg,-the Lutheran
ration of the soul from the body, said his founded in the year 1538, by Jacobus Stur
antagonist. —  Then we don't agree about mius, counsellor of the senate,-and the
our weapons, said the logician.-    Then Popish, founded by Leopold; archduke of
there is an end of the dispute, replied the Austria, were, during all this time, employantagonist.                               ing the whole depth of their, knowledge
The civilians were still more concise: (except just what the affair of the abbess
what they offered being more in the nature of Quedli'ngberg's placket-holes required)
of a decree-than a dispute.               -in determining the point of Martin LuSuch a monstrous nose, said they, had it ther's damnation.
been a true nose, could not possibly have   The Popish doctors had undertaken to
been suffered in civil society;-and if false, demonstrate, d priori, that from the necesto impose upon society with such false signs sary influence of the planets on the twentyand tokens, was a still greater violation of second day of October, 1483,-when the
its rights, and must have had still less moon was in the twelfth house, Jupiter,
mercy shown it.                           Mars, and Venus in the third; the Sun, SatThe only objection to this was, that if it urn, and Mercury, all got together in the
proved any thing, it proved the stranger's fourth;-that he must in course, and unanose was neither true nor false.          voidably, be a damn'd man; and that his
This left room for the controversy to go doctrines, by a direct corollary, must be
on. It was maintained by the advocates of damn'd doctrines too.
the ecclesiastical court, that there was no-  By inspection into his horoscope, where
thing to inhibit a decree, since the stranger five planets were in coition all at once with
ex mero motu had confessed he had been Scorpio* (in reading this, my father would
at the Promontory of Noses, and had got always shake his head) in the ninth house,
one of the goodliest, &c. &c. -   To this which the Arabians allotted to religion,-it
it was answered, It was impossible there appeared that Martin Luther did not care
should be such a place as the Promontory one stiver about the matter:-and that,
of Noses, and the learned be ignorant where from the horoscope directed to the conjuncit lay. The commissary of the Bishop of tion of Mars-they made it plain likewise
Strasburg undertook the. advocates' part, he must die cursing and blaspheming;explained this matter in a treatise upon with the blast of which his soul (being
proverbial phrases, showing them, that the _____
Promontory of Noses was a mere allegoricI Scrip. Argentoratens. de Antiq. Ecc. in Episc. Archiv
expression, importing no more than that fid. coll. per Von Jacoburn Koinshoven Folio ArgenL
nature had given him a- long nose: in proof 1583. prncip. ad finem. Quibus add. Rebuff in L. ob.
venire de Signif. Nom. ff. fol. & de jure Gent. & Civil.
of which, with great learning, he cited the de protib. alinea feud. per federa, test. Joha. Luxius
underwritten authories,* which had decided in prolegom. quem velim videas, de Analy. Cap. 1, 2,
3' Vid. Idea.
* Hec miro, satisque horrenda. Planetarum coitio
* Nonnulli ex nostratibus eadem loquendi formula sub Scorpio Asterismo in nona celi statione. quam
ucun. Quinimo & Logistae & CanonistEe.  Vid. ArabesreligionideputabantefficitfJa?-titmmLutathe.??t
Parce Barn(. Jas in d. L. Provincial. Constitut. de con- sacrilegium hereticum, Christianm religionis hostem
lee. vid. Vol. Lib. 4. Titul. 1. n. 7. qua etiam in re acerrimum atque prophanum, ex horoscopi directione
conspir. Om. de Promontorio Nas. Tichmak. ff. d. tit. ad Martis coitum, religiosissimus obiit, ejus Anima
3. fol. 189. passim. Vid.'Glos. de contrahend. empt. &c. scelestissina ad infernos navigat,-ab Alecto, Tisi
necnon. J. Scrudr. in cap. ~ refut per totum. Cum his phone & Megara flagellis igneis cruciata periuntur.
enms. Rever. J. Tubal, Sencent. & Pro ca'. 9. ff. 11,  -Lucas Gaurieus in Tractatn astrologico de prai.
12. obiter. V. & Librum, cui Tit. de Ter-is & Phras. teritis multorum hominum accidentibus per genituras
13f. g. ad fnem, cum comment. N. Bardy Belg. Vid. cxaminatis.




OF TRISTRAM SHAND9Y.


115


steep'd in guilt) sailed before the wind in strated, that he had not sailed right before
the lake ot he!l-fire.                the wind, as the Popish doctors had pretendThe little objection of the Lutheran doc- ed; and as every one knew there was no
tors to this, was, that it must certainly be sailing full in the teeth of it,-they were
the soul of another man, born October 22, going to settle, in case he had sailed, how'83, which was forced to sail down before many points he was off; whether Martin had
the wind in that manner,-inasmuch as it doubled the Cape, or had fallen upon a leeappeared from the register of Islaben, in the shore; and no doubt, as it was an inquiry of
county of Mansfelt; that Luther was not much edification, at least to those who unnorn in the year 1483, but in 84; and not derstood this sort of navigation, they had
on the 22d day of October, but on the 10th gone on with it in spite of the size of the
of November, the eve of Martinmas-day, stranger's nose, had not the size of the
from whence he had the name of Martin.  stranger's nose drawn off the attention of
[-   I must break off my translation for the world from what they were about:-it
a moment; for, if I did not, I know I should was their business to follow.
no more be able to shut my eyes in bed, than  The abbess of Quedlingberg and her four
the abbess of Quedlngberg.-It is to tell dignitaries were no stop; for the enormity
the reader, that my father never read this of the stranger's nose running full as much
passage of Slawkenbergius to my uncle in their fancies as their case of conscience,
Toby, but with triumph,-not over my un- -the affair of their placket-holes kept cold 
cte Toby, for he never opposed him in it,- in a word, the printers were ordered to
but"over the whole world.              distribute their types:-all controversies
Now you see, brother Toby, he would dropp'd.
say, looking up, " that Christian names are'Twas a square cap with a silver tassel
"not such indifferent things;"-had Luther upon the crown of it-to a nut-shell,-to
here been called by any other name but have guessed on which side of the nose the
Martin, he wodld have been damn'd to all two universities would split.
eternity;-not that I look upon Martin, he'Tis above reason, cried the' doctors on
would add, as a good name, —far from it,-  one side.'tis something better than a neutral, and'Tis below reason, cried the others.
but a little;-yet, little as it is, you see it'Tis faith, cried one.


was of some service to him.
My father knew the weakness of this
prop to his hypothesis, as well as the best
logician could show him,-yet so strange
is the weakness of man at the same time,
as it fell in his way, he could not for his life
but make use of it; and it was certainly for
this reason that though there are many stories in Hafen Slawkenbergius's Decades
full as entertaining as this I am translating,
yet there is not one amongst them which
my father read over with half the delight;
-it flattered two of his strangest hypotheses
together,-his Names and his Noses. —I
will be bold to say, he might have read all
the books in the Alexandrian Library, had
not fate taken other care of them, and not
have met with a book or passage in one,
which hit two such nails as these upon the
head at one stroke.]
The two universities of Strasburg were
hard tugging at this affair of Luther's navigation The Protestant doctors had demon-'Tis a fiddle-stick, said the other.'Tis possible, cried the one.'Tis impossible, said the other.
God's power is infinite, cried the Nosari.
ans; he can do any thing.
He can do nothing, replied the Antinosarians, which implies contradictions.
He can make matter think, said the Nosarians.
As certainly as you can make a velvet
cap out of a sow's ear, replied the Antinosarians.
He cannot make two and two five, replied
the Popish doctors. —-'Tis false, said the
other opponents.
Infinite power is infinite power, said the
doctors who maintained the reality of the
nose.-It extends only to all possible things,
replied the Lutherans.
By God in Heaven, cried the Popish doctors, he can make a nose, if he thinks fit, as
big as the steeple of Strasburg.
Now the steeple of Strasburg being the




116


LIFE AND OPINIONS


biggest and the tallest church-steeple to be
seen in the whole world, the Antinosarians
denied that a nose of 575 geometrical feet in
length, could be worn, at least by a middlesiz'd man.-The Popish doctors swore it
could:-the Lutheran doctors said No;-it
could not.
This at once started a new dispute, which
they pursued a great way, upon the extent
and limitation of the moral and natural attributes of God.-That controversy led them
naturally into Thomas Aquinas; and Thomas
Aquinas to the Devil.
The stranger's nose was no more heard
of in the dispute;-it just served as a frigate,
to launch them into the gulf of school divinity,-and then they all sailed before the
wind.
Heat is in proportion to the want of true
knowledge.
The controversy about the attributes, &c.
instead of cooling, on the contrary had inflamed the Strasburgers' imaginations to a
most inordinate degree.-The less they understood of the matter, the greater was their
wonder about it;-they were left in all the
distresses of desire unsatisfied,-saw their
doctors, the Parchmentarians, the Brassarians, the Turpentarians, on one side,the Popish doctors on the other, like Pantagruel and his companions in quest of the
oracle of the bottle, all embarked out of
sight.
— The poor Strasburgers left upon the
beach!
-   What was to be done!-No delay;
-the uproar increased,-every one in disorder,-the city-gates set open.
Unfortunate Strasburgers! was there in
the store-house of nature,-was there in the
lumber-rooms of learning,-was there in
the great arsenal of chance, one single engine left undrawn forth to torture your curiosities, and stretch your desires, which
was not pointed oy the hand of Fate to play
upon your hearts 1-I dip not my pen into
my ink to excuse the surrender of yourselves,
-'tis to write your panegyric. Show me a.ity so macerated with expectation,-who
neither eat, or drank, or slept, or prayed, or
hearkened to the calls either of religion or
aflture, for seven-and-twenty days together,
who could have held out one day longer!


On the twenty-eighth the courteous stran
ger had promised to return to Strasburg.
Seven thousand coaches (Slawkenbergius
must certainly have made some mistake in
his numerical characters) 7000 coaches,15,000 single-horse chairs,-20,000 wagons, crowded as full as they could all hold
with senators, counsellors,. syndics, -beguines, widows, wives, virgins, canons, concubines, all in their coaches:-The abbess
of Quedlingberg, with the prioress, the
deaness, and subchantress, leading the procession in one coach, and the dean of Strasburg, with the four great dignitaries of his
chapter, on her left hand,-the rest following higglety-pigglety as they could; some
on horseback,-some on foot,-some led,
some driven, some down the Rhine,-some
this way,-some that,-all set out at sunrise to meet the courteous stranger on the
road.
Haste we now towards the catastrophe
of my tale,-I say catastrophe (cries Slawkenbergius) inasmuch as a tale, with parts
rightly disposed, not only rejoiceth (gaudet)
in the Catastrophe and' Peripeitia of a
DRAMA, but rejoiceth moreover in all the
essential and integrant parts of it;-it has
its Protasis, Epitasis, Catastasis, its Catastrophe, or Peripeitia, growing one out
of the other in it, in the order Aristotle first
planted them,-without which a tale had
better never be told at all, says Slawkenbergius, but be kept to a man's self.
In all my ten tales, in all my ten decades,
have I, Slawkenbergius, tied down every
tale of them as tightly to this rule, as I have
done this of the stranger and his nose.
-From his first parley with the sentinel,
to.his leaving the city of Strasburg, after
pulling off his crimson-satin pair of breeches,
is the Protasis or first entrance,-where
the characters of the Personce Dramatis
are just touched in, and the subject slightly
begun.
The Epitasis, wherein the action is more
fully entered upon and heightened, till it
arrives at its state or height, called the
Catastasis, and which usually takes up the
2nd and 3d act, is included within that busy
period of my tale, betwixt the first night's
uproar about the nose, to the conclusion of
the trumpeter's wife's lectures upon it in




OF TRISTRAMn/3 SHANDY.~~


117


the middle of the grand parade; and from am, I want nothing but a bed.-  I have
the first embarking of the learned in the one as soft as is in Alsatia, said the hostdispute,-to the doctors' finally sailing away,  -The stranger, continued he, should
and leaving the Strasburgers upon the beach have slept in it, for?tis my best bed, but
in distress, is the Catastasis, or the ripen- upon the score of his nose.- He has got,ng of the incidents and passions for their a defluxion, said the traveller.-Not that
oursting forth in the fifth act.        I know cried"the host.-But'tis a camp-bed,
This commences with the setting out of and Jacinta, said he, looking towards the
the Strasburgers on the Frankfort road, and maid, imagined there was not room in it to
terminates in unwinding the labyrinth and turn his nose in. —Why so, cried the travbringing the hero out of a state of agita- eller, starting back.-It is so long a nose,
tion (as Aristotle calls it) to a state of rest replied the host.- The traveller fixed his
and quietness.                          eyes upon Jacinta, then upon the ground,
This, says Hafen Slawkenbergius, con- -kneeled upon his right knee, had just got
stitutes the Catastrophe or Peripeitia of his hand laid upon his breast —Trifle not
my tale;-and that is the part of it I am with my anxiety, said he, rising up again.
going to relate.                       --'Tis no trifle, said Jacinta,'tis the most
We left the stranger behind the curtain glorious nose! —The traveller fell upon
asleep:-he enters now upon the stage.   his knee again,-laid his hand upon his
-What dost thou prick up thy ears at? breast,-then, said he, looking up to heaven,
-'tis nothing but a man upon a horse; was thou hast conducted me to the end of my
the last word the stranger uttered to his pilgrimage,-'Tis Diego.
mule. It was not proper then to tell the  The traveller was the brother of Julia,
reader that the mule took his master's word so often invoked that night by the stranger
for it; and without any more ifs or ands, as he rode from Strasburg upon his mule;
let the traveller and his horse pass by.  and was come, on her part, in quest of him.
The traveller was hastening with all He had accompanied his sister fromValladolid
diligence to get to Strasburg that night. across the Pyrennean mountains through
What a fool am I, said the traveller to him- France, and had many an entangled skein
self, when he had rode about a league far- to wind off in pursuit of him, through the
ther, to think of getting into Strasburg this many meanders and abrupt turnings of a
night!-Strasburg!-the great Strasburg! lover's thorny tracks.
-Strasburg, the capital of all Alsatia! Stras-  - Julia had sunk under it,-and had
burg, an imperial city! Strasburg, a sove- not been able to get a step farther than to
reign state! Strasburg, garrisoned with five Lyons, where, with the many disquietudes
thousand of the best troops in all the world! of a tender heart, which all talk of,-but
-Alas! if I was at the gates of Strasburg few feel,-she sicken'd, but had just strength
this moment, I could not gain admittance to write a letter to Diego; and having coninto it for a ducat,-nay, a ducat and a half; jured her brother never to see her face till
-'tis too much,-better go back to the last he had found him out, and put the letter into
inn I have passed,-than lie I know not his hands, Julia took to her bed.
where,-or give I know not what. The       Fernandez (fbr that was her brother's
traveller, as he made these reflections in name)-though the camp-bed was as soft as
his mind, turned his horse's head about, any one in Alsace, yet he could not shut
and three minutes after the stranger had his eyes in it.-As soon as it was day, he
been conducted into his chamber, he arrived rose; and hearing Diego was risen too, he
at the same inn.                        entered his chamber and discharged his
- We have bacon in the house, said sister's commiesion.
the host, and bread;-and till eleven o'clock  The letter was as follows:
this night had three eggs in it;-but a      "Seig. DIEGO,
stranger, who arrived an hour ago, has had  "Whether my suspicions of your nose
them dressed into an omelet, and we have "were justly excited or not,-'tis not now
nothing.-                               "to inquire;-it is enough I have not N]ao
A'as! said the traveller, harassed as I "firmness to put them to farther trial.






118                        FLIFE AND
How could I know so little of myself,'when I sent my duenna to forbid your
"coming more under my lattice  or how
"could I know so little of you, Diego, as to
"imagine you would have staid one day in
"Valladolid to have given ease to my doubts?
"-Was I to be abandoned, Diego, because
"I was deceived? or was it kind to take
"me at my word, whether my suspicions
" were just or no, and leave me, as you did,
"a prey to much uncertainty and sorrow?
"In what manner Julia has resented this,
"-my brother, when he puts this letter
"into your hands, will tell you; he will
"tell you in how few moments she repented
"of'the rash message she had sent you,"in what frantic haste she flew to her lat"tice, and how many days and nights to"gether she leaned immovably upon her
"elbow, looking through it towards the
"way which Diego was wont to come.
"He will tell you, when she heard of
"your departure,-how her spirits deserted
"her, how her heart sicken'd, —how pite"ously she mourned,-how low she hung
"her head. O Diego! how many weary
"steps has my brother's pity led me by the
"hand languishing to trace out yours! how
"far has desire carried me beyond strength!
"-and how oft have I fainted by the way,
"and sunk into his arms, with only power
"to cry out,-O my Diego!
"If the'gentleness of your carriage has
"not belied your heart, you will fly to me
" almost as fast as you fled from me:-haste
"as you will,-you will arrive but to see
" me expire.-'Tis a bitter draught, Diego;
" but oh!'tis embittered still more by dying
" un.    "
She could proceed no farther.
Slawkenbergius supposes the word intended was unconvinced; but her strength
would not enable her to finish her letter.
The heart of the courteous Diego overflowed. as he read the letter:-he ordered
his mule forthwith and Fernandez's horse
to be saddled; and as no vent in prose is
equal to that of poetry in such conflicts,
- chance, which as often directs us to
remedies as to diseases, having thrown a
piece of charcoal into the window,-Diego
availed himself of it; and, whilst the ostler
was getting ready his mule, he eased his
aind against the wall as follows:


OPINIONS


ODE.
Harsh and untuneful are the notes of love
Unless my Julia strikes the key,
Her hand alone can touch the part.
Whose dulcet movement charms the heart,
And governs all the man with sympathetic sway.
2d.
0 Julia!


The lines were very natural,-for they
were nothing at all to the purpose, says
Slawkenbergius, and'tis a pity there. were
no more of them; but whether it was that
Seig. Diego was slow in composing verses,
-or the ostler quick in saddling mules,-is
not averred; certain it was, that Diego's
mule and Fernandez's horse were ready at
the door of the inn-before Diego was ready
for his second stanza; so, without staying
to finish his ode, they both mounted, sallied
forth, passed the Rhine, traversed Alsace,
shaped their course towards Lyons, and,
before the Strasburgers and the abbess of
Quedlingberg had set out on their cavalcade, had Fernandez, Diego, and his Julia,
crossed the Pyrennean mountains, and got
safe to Valladolid.'Tis needless to inform the geographical
reader, that, when Diego was in Spain, it
was not possible to meet the courteous
stranger in the Frankfort road; it is enough
to say, that of all restless desires, curiosity
being the strongest,-the Strasburgers felt
the full force of it; and that for three days
and nights they were tossed to and fro in
the Frankfort road, with the tempestuous
fury of this passion, before they could submit to return home;-when, alas! an event
was prepared for them, of all others, the
most grievous that could befall a free people.
As this revolution of the Strasburgers'
affairs is often spoken of, and little understood, I will, in ten words, says Slawkenbergius, give the world an explanation of it,
and with it put an end to my tale.
Every body knows of the grand system
of Universal Monarchy, wrote by order of
Mon. Colbert, and put in manuscript into
the hands of Louis the Fourteenth, in the
year 1664.'Tis as well known, that one branch out
of many of that system was the getting




OF TRISTRAM SHANDY.


119


po session of Strasburg, to favor an entrance
at all times into Suabia, in order to disturb
the quiet of Germany';-and that, in consequence of this plan, Strasburg unhappily fell
at length into their hands.
It is the lot of a few to trace out the true
springs of this and such like revolutions;
-the vulgar look too high for them,statesmen look too low;-Truth (for once)
lies in the middle.
What a fatal thing is the popular pride
of a free city! cries one historian.-The
Strasburgers deemed it a diminution of
their freedom to receive an imperial garrison,-so fell a prey to a French one.
The fate, says another of the Strasburgers, may be a warning to all free people
to save their money. -They anticipated
their revenues,-brought themselves under
taxes, exhausted their strength, and, in the
end, became so weak a people, they had not
strength to keep their gates shut; and, so
the French pushed them open!
Alas! alas! cries Slawkenbergius,'twas
not the French,-'twas curiosity pushed
them open.-The French, indeed, who are
ever upon the catch, when they saw the
Strasburgers, men, women, and children,
all marched out to follow'the stranger's
nose, — each man followed his own, and
marched in.
Trade and manufactures have decayed
and gradually grown down ever since, —
but not from any cause which commercial
heads have assigned; for it is owing to this
only, that Noses have ever so run in their
heads, thatthe Strasburgers could not follow
their business.
Alas! alas! cries Slawkenbergius, making
an exclamation,-it is not the first,-and I
fear will not be the last fortress that has
been either won-or lost by Noses.
THE END OF SLAWKENBERGIUS'S TALE.
CHAP. I.
WITH all this learning upon Noses running perpetually in my father's fancy,with so many family prejudices,-and ten
decades of such tales running on for ever
along with them,-how was it possible with
such exquisite,-was it a true nose?-that


a man with such exquisite feelings as my
father had, could bear the shock at all below stairs,-or indeed above stairs, in any
other posture but the very posture I have
described?
-   Throw yourself down upon the bed
a dozen times,-taking care only to place a
looking-glass first in a chair on one side of
it before you do it.-But was the stranger's
nose a true nose, or was it a false one.
To tell that beforehand, Madam, would
be to do injury to one of the best tales in the
Christian world; and that is the tenth of the
tenth decade, which immediately follows
this.
This tale, cried Slawkenbergius, somewhat exultingly, has been reserved by me for
the concluding tale of my whole work; knowing right well, that when I shall have told
it, and my reader shall have read it through,
-'twould be even high time for both of us
to shut up the book; inasmuch, continues
Slawkenbergius, as I know of no tale which
could possibly ever go down after it.
-'Tis a tale indeed!
This sets out with the first interview in
the inn at Lyons, when Fernandez left the
courteous stranger and his sister Julia
alone in her chamber, and is overwritten
THE INTRICACIES
OF
DIEGO AND JULIA.
Heavens! thou art a strange creature,
Slawkenbergius! what a whimsical view of
the involutions of the heart of woman hast
thou opened! how this can ever be translated, and yet if this specimen of Slawken
bergius's tales, and the exquisiteness of his
moral, should please the world,-translated
shall a couple of volumes be.-Else, how
this can ever be translated into good English, I have no sort of conception.-There
seems, in some passages, to want a sixth
sense to do it rightly.-What can he mean
by the lambent pupilability of slow, low,
dry chat, five notes below the natural
tone,-which you know, Madam, is little
more than a whisper 1 The moment I pronounced the words, I could perceive an attempt towards a vibration in the strings
about the region of the heart.-The brain
made no acknowledgment.-There's often




120


LIFE AND OPINIONS


no good understanding betwixt'em:-I felt
as if I understood it.-I had no ideas.-The
movement could not be without cause.I'm lost.-I can make nothing of it,-unless, may it please y;,l' TVorships, the
voice, in that case beiht'i~- ie more than a
whisper, unavoidablty fti'.. he eyes to approach not only wiLits Uix inches of each
other,-but to look:^:o the pupils.-Is not
that dangerous?-But it can't be avoided;
-for to look up to the ceiling, in that case
the two chins unavoidably meet;;-and, to
look down into each other's lap, the foreheads come into immediate contact, which
at once puts an end to the conference,-I
mean to the sentimental part of it.-What
is left, Madam, is not worth stooping for.
CHAP. II.
MY father lay stretched across the bed
as still as if the hand of death had pushed
him down, for a full hour and a half before
he began to play upon the floor with the
toe of that foot which hung over the bedside. My uncle Toby's heart was a pound
lighter for it.-In a few moments, his left
hand, the knuckles of which had all the
time reclined upon the handle of the chamber-pot, came to its feeling;-he thrust it a
little more within the valance,-drew up
his hand, when he had done, into his bosom,
-gave a hem! My good uncle Toby, with
infinite pleasure, answered it; and full
gladly would have ingrafted a sentence of
consolation upon the opening it afforded:
but having no talents, as I said, that way,
and fearing, moreover, that he might set
out with something which might make a
bad matter worse, he contented himself
with resting his chin placidly upon the cross
of his crutch.
Now, whether the compression shortened
my uncle Toby's face into a more pleasurable
oval,-or that the philanthropy of his heart,
in seeing his brother beginning to emerge
out of the sea of his afflictions, had braced
up his muscles,-so that the compression
upon his chin only doubled the benignity'vhich was there before, is not hard to declde.-My father, in turning his eyes, was
struck with such a gleam of sun-shine in


his face, as melted down the sullenness of
his grief in a moment.
He broke silence as follows:CHAP. III.
DID ever man, brother Toby, cried my
father, raising himself upon his elbow, and
turning himself round to the opposite side
of the bed, where my uncle Toby was sit
ting in his old fringed chair, with his chin
resting upon his crutch,-did ever a pool
unfortunate man, brother Toby, cried my
father, receive so many lashes? —The
most I ever saw given, quoth my uncle
Toby (ringing the bell at the bed's head
for Trim) was to a grenadier, I think, in
Mackay's regiment.
--  Had my uncle Toby shot a bullet
through my father's heart, he could not
have fallen down with his nose upon the
quilt more suddenly.
Bless me! said my uncle Toby.
CHAP. IV.
WAs it Mackay's regiment, quoth my
uncle Toby, where the poor grenadier was
so unmercifully whipp'd at Bruges, about
the ducats?   O Christ! he was innocent!
cried Trim, with a deep sigh.-And he was
whipp'd, may it please your Honor, almost
to Death's door.-They had better have
shot him outright, as he begg'd, and he had
gone directly to Heaven; for he was as innocent as your Honor.-I thank thee,
Trim, quoth my uncle Toby.-I never
think of his, continued Trim, and my poor
brother Tom's misfortunes, for we were all
three school-fellows, but I cry like a coward.
-   Tears are no proof of cowardice, Trim.
-I drop them oft-times myself, cried my
uncle Toby. —I know your Honor does,
replied Trim, and so am not ashamed of it
myself-But to think, may it please your
Honor, continued Trim, a tear stealing
into the corner of his eye as he spoke,-to
think of two virtuous lads with hearts as
warm in their bodies, and as honest as God
could make them,-the children of honest




OF TRISTRAM SHANDY.


121


people, going forth with gallant spirits tc
seek their fortunes in the world,-and fall
into such evils!-poor Tom! to be tortured
upon a rack for nothing-but marrying a
Jew's widow who sold sausages!-honest
Dick Johnson's soul to be scourged out of
his body, for the ducats another man put
into his knapsack!-O!-these are misfortunes, cried Trim,-pulling out his handkerchief,-these are misfortunes, may it
please your Honor, worth lying down and
crying over.
-My father could not help blushing.'Twould be a pity, Trim, quoth my uncle
Toby, thou shouldst ever feel sorrow of thy
own;-thou feelest it so tenderly for others.
-Alack-a-day, replied the corporal brightening up his face,-your Honor knows I
have neither wife or child;-I can have no
sorrows in this world. -My father could
not help smiling. — As few as any man,
Trim, replied my uncle Toby; nor can I see
how a fellow of thy light heart can suffer,
but from the distress of poverty in thy old
age, when thou art passed all services,
Trim,-and hast outlived thy friends.An' please your Honor, never fear, replied
Trim, cheerly.-But I would have thee
never fear, Trim, replied my uncle Toby;
and therefore, continued my uncle Toby,
throwing down his crutch, and getting up
upon his legs as he uttered the word therefore,-in recompense, Trim, of thy long
fidelity to me, and that goodness of thy
heart I have had such proofs of,-whilst thy
master is worth a shilling,-thou shalt
never ask elsewhere, Trim, for a penny.
— Trim    attempted to thank my uncle
Toby,-but had not power;-tears trickled
down his cheeks faster than he could wipe
them off.-he laid his hands upon his breast,
-made a bow to the ground, and shut the
door.
-   I have left Trim my bowling-green,
cried my uncle Toby.-My father smiled.
-I have left him, moreover, a pension,
continued my uncle Toby.-My father
looked grave.
CHAP. V.
Is this a fit time, said my father to himself, to talk of pensions and grenadiers?




CHAP. VI.
WHEN my uncle Toby first mentioned
the grenadier, my father, I said, fell down
with his nose flat to the quilt, and as suddenly as if my uncle Toby had shot him
but it was not added that every other limb
and member of my father instantly relapsed,
with his nose, into the same precise attitude in which he lay first described; so that
when Corporal Trim left the room, ana my
father found himself disposed to rise off
the bed,-he had all the little preparatory
movements to run over again before he
could do it.-Attitudes are nothing, Madam,
-'tis the transition from one attitude to
another,-like the preparation and resolution of the discord into harmony, which is
all in all.
For which reason, my father played the
same jig over again with his toe upon the
floor,-pushed the chamber-pot still a little
farther within the valance,-gave a hem,
-raised himself up upon his elbow,-and
was just beginning to address himself to
my uncle Toby, -when, recollecting the
unsuccessfulness of his first effort in that
attitude, - he got upon his legs, and in
making the third turn across the room, he
stopped short before my uncle Toby; and
laying the three first fingers of his right
hand in the palm of his left, and stooping a
little, he addressed himself to my uncle
Toby as follows:CHAP. VII.
WHEN I reflect, brother Toby, upon MAN;
and take a view of that dark side of him
which represents his life as open to so many
causes of trouble;-when I consider, brother Toby, how oft we eat the bread of
affliction, and that we are born to it, as to
the portion of our inheritance, -I was born
to nothing, quoth my uncle Toby, interrupting my father,-but my commission.
-   Zooks! said my father, did not my
uncle leave you a hundred and twenty
pounds a year. —  hat could I have dolne
without it? replied my uncle Toby. —
That's another concern, said my father
testily;-but I say, Toby, when one rias
11




t22


LIFE AND OPINIONS


over the catalogue of all the cross-reckonings and sorrowful items with which the
heart of mina is overcharged,'tis wonderful
by what hidden resources the mind is enabled to stand it out, and bear itself up, as it
does, against the impositions laid upon our
nature.-'Tis by the assistance of Almighty God, cried my uncle Toby, looking
up, and pressing the palms of his hands
close together,-'tis not from our own
strength, brother Shandy;-a sentinel in a
wooden sentry-box might as well pretend to
stand it out against a detachment of fifty
men.-We are upheld by the grace and the
assistance of the best of Beings.
That is cutting the knot, said my
father, instead of untying it.-But give me
leave to lead you, brother Toby, a little
deeper into the mystery.
With all my heart, replied my uncle
Toby.
My father instantly exchanged the attitude he was in, for that in which Socrates
is so finely painted by Raphael, in his
school of Athens; which your connoisseurship knows is so exquisitely imagined, that
even the particular manner of the reasoning
of Socrates is expressed by it,-for he holds
the fore-finger of his left-hand between the
fore-finger and the thumb of his right; and
seems as if he was saying to the libertine
he is reclaiming,-" You grant me this,"and this: and this, and this, I don't ask
"of you; —they follow of themselves in
" course."
So stood my father, holding fast his forefinger betwixt his finger and his thumb, and
reasoning with my uncle Toby as he sat in
his old fringed chair, valanced around with
party-colored worsted bobs. —O Garrick!
-what a rich scene of this would thy exquisite powers make! and how gladly would
I write such another to avail myself of thy
immortality, and secure my own behind it!
CHAP. VIII.
THOUGH man is of all others the most
iturious vehicle, said my father; yet, at the
-ame time,'tis of so slight a frame, and sc
*.otteringly put together, that the' sudden
erks and hard jostlings it unavoidably




meets with in this rugged journey, would
overset and tear it to piecesa dozen times a
day,-was it not, brother Toby, that there
is a secret spring within us. — Which
spring, said my uncle Toby, I take to be
Religion.   Will that set my child's nose
on 1 cried my father, letting go his linger,
and striking one hand against the other.
-   It makes every thing straight /or us,
answered my uncle Toby. —  Figuratively
speaking, dear Toby, it may, for aught 1
know, said my father; but the spring I am
speaking of, is that great and elastic power
within us of counterbalancing evil; which,
like a secret spring in a well-ordered ma
chine, though it can't prevent the shock,at least, it imposes upon our sense of it.
Now, my dear brother, said my father,
replacing his fore-finger as he was coming
closer to the point,-had my child arrived
safe into the world, unmartyr'd in that precious part of him, fanciful and extravagant
as I may appear to the world in my opinion
of christian names, and of that magic bias
which good or bad names irresistibly impress upon our characters and conducts,Heaven is witness, that in the warmest
transports of my wishes for the prosperity
of my child, I never once wished to crown
his head with more glory and honor than
what George or Edward would have spread
around it.
But alas! continued my father, as the
greatest evil has befallen him, —I must
counteract and undo it with the greatest
good.
He shall be christened Trismegistus, brother.
I wish it may answer,-replied my uncle
Toby, rising up.
CHAP. IX.
WHAT a chapter of chances! said my
father, turning himself about on the first
landing, as he and my uncle Toby were
going down stairs:-what a long chapter
of chances do the events of this world lay
open to us! Take pen and ink in hand
brother Toby, and calculate it fairly.- I
know no more of calculation than this bal
uster, said my uncle Toby (striking short




OF TRISTRAM SHANDY.


123


of it with his crutch, and hitting my father
z desperate blow souse upon his shin-bone.)
-'Twas a hundred to one,-cried my uncle
Toby-    I thought, quoth my father (rubbino his shin) you had known nothing of
calculations, brother Toby. —'Twas a
mere chance, said my uncle Toby.-Then
it adds one to the chapter,-replied my
father.
The double success of my father's repartees tickled off the pain of his shin at
once:-it was well it so fell out-(chance!
again)-or the world to this day had never
known the subject of my father's calculation;-to guess it there was no chance.What a lucky chapter of chances has this
turned out! for it has saved me the trouble
of writing one'express; and in truth I have
enough already upon my hands without it.
Have I not promised the world a chapter of
knots l two chapters upon the right and the
wrong end of a woman 1 a chapter upon
whiskers? a chapter upon wishes? a chapter of noses l-No: I have done that;-a
chapter upon my uncle Toby's modesty?to say nothing of a chapter upon chapters,
which I will finish before I sleep.-By my
great-grandfather's whiskers, I shall never
get half of'em through this year.
Take pen and ink in hand, and calculate
it fairly, brother Toby, said my father; and
it will turn out a million to one, that of all
the parts of the body, the edge of the forceps should have the ill-luck just to fall
upon and break down that one part, which
should break down the fortunes of our house
with it.
It might have been worse, replied my
uncle Toby. —  I don't comprehend, said
my father.-   Suppose the hip had presented, replied my uncle Toby, as Dr. Slop
foreboded?
My father reflected half a minute;looked down,- touched the middle of his
forehead slightly with his finger-True, said he.
CHAP. X.
Is it not a d.aame to make two chapters
of what passed in going down one pair of
stairs? for we are got no farther yet than to


the first landing, and there are fifteen more
steps down to the bottom; and,. for aught 1
know, as my father and my uncle Toby are
in a talking humor, there may be as many
chapters as steps. Let that be as it will,
Sir, I can no more help it than my destiny.
-A sudden impulse comes across me;-drop the curtain, Shandy:-I drop it.Strike a line here across the paper, Tristram:-I strike it,-and hey for a new
chapter.
The deuce of any other rule have I to
govern myself by in this affair;-and if I
had one,-as I do all things out of all rule,
-I would twist it and tear it to pieces, and
throw it into the fire when I had done.Am I warm? I am, and the cause demands
it:-a pretty story! is a man to follow rules,
or rules to follow him l
Now this, you must know, being my
chapter upon chapters, which I promised
to write before I went to sleep, I thought
it meet to ease my conscience entirely
before I laid down, by telling the world all
I knew about the matter at once. Is not
this ten times better than to set out dogmatically with a sententious parade of wisdom, and telling the world a story of a
roasted horse? -that chapters relieve the
mind,-that they assist, —or impose upon
the imagination,-and that in a work of
this dramatic cast they are as necessary as
the shifting of scenes,-with fifty other cold
conceits, enough to extinguish the fire
which roasted him! 0!'but to understand
this, which is a puff at the fire of Diana's
temple,-you must read Longinus:-read
away:-if you are not a jot the wiser by
reading him the first time over, —never
fear,- read him  again. - Avicenna and
Licetus read Aristotle's Metaphysics forty
times through a-piece, and never understood a single word! But mark the consequ.ence.-Avicenna turned out a desperate
writer at all kinds of writing;-for he wrote
books de omni scribili; and for Licetus
(Fortunio)-though all the world knows he
was born a fcetus,* of no more than five


* Ce foetus n'etoit pas pins grand que la paume de
la main; mais son pere'ayant examin6 en qualit6 
de Medecin, & ayant trouiv que c'etoit quelque chose
de plus qu'un Embryon, le fit transporter tout vivant
at Rapallo, ou il le fit voir i Jer6me Bardi & a t'autreu
Mdecins du lieu. On trouva qu'il ne lui manquuo




124


LIFE AND OPINIONS


inches and a half in length, yet he grew to
that astonishing height in literature, as to
write a book with a title as long as himself.
The learned know I mean his Gonopsychanthropologia upon the origin of the
Human Soul.
So much for my chapter upon chapters,
which I hold to be the best chapter in my
whole work; and, take my word, whoever
reads it, is full as well employed as in picking straws.
CHAP. XI.
WE shall bring all things to rights, said
my father, setting his foot upon the first
step from the landing.-This Trismegistus,
continued my father, drawing his leg back,
and turning to my uncle Toby,-was the
greatest (Toby) of all earthly beings;-he
was the greatest king,-the greatest lawgiver, -the greatest philosoplher,-and the
greatest priest; - and'engineer,-said my
uncle Toby.
-In course, said my father.
CHAP. XII.
-AND how does your mistress? cried
my father, taking the same step over again


from the landing, and calling to Susannah,
whom he saw passing by the foot of the
stairs with a huge pin-cushion in her hand,
-how does yo ar. mistress?A s well, said
Susannah, tripping by, but without lookill'o,
up, as can be expected.What a fool
am I! said my father, drawing his leg back
again, - let, things be as they will, brother
Toby,'tis ever the precise answer.-And
how is,-the child, pray?No answer.
And where is Dr. $lop?-added rnyfather,
raising his voice aloud, and looking over the
balusters.-Susannah was out of hearing.
Of all the riddles of a m'a-rried life, said
my father, crossing the landing, in order to
set his back against the wall whilst he propounded it to my uncle Toby,-of 611 the
puzzlin riddles, said he in the marriage
state,-of which, you may trust me, brother
Toby, there are more asses' loads than all
Job's stock of asses could have carried, -
there is not one that has more intricacies in
it than this:-that from the very moment
the mistress of the house is brought to' bed,
every female in it, from my lady's gentlewoman down to the cinder-wench, becomes
an, inch taller for it; and gives herself more
airs upon that single inch, than all her other
inches put together.
I I think rather, replied my uncle Toby,
that'tis we who SiDk an inch lower'.-If
I meet but a woman with child,-1 do it.
_'Tis a heavy tax upon that half of our fellow-creatures,- brother Shandy, said my uncle Toby.-'Tis a piteous burden upon 7 em,.continued he, sh king his head.  Yes
yes,'tis a painful thillg,-said my father,
shaking his head too:-but certainly since
shaking of heads came into fashion, never
did two heads shake together, in concert,
from two such different springs.  -
God bless'em all,-said my uncle Toby
Deuce take
and my father; each to himself.
CHAP. XIII.
HOLLA!-YOU chairman!-here's sixpence:-do step into that bookseller's shop,
9,nd call me a day-tall critic. I am very
willino- to give any one of'em a crown to
4elp me with his tackling to get my fathe


from the landing, and calling to Susannah,
whom he saw passing by the foot of the
stairs with a huge pin-cushion in her hand,
-how does your mistress? -As well, said
Susannah, tripping by, but without looking
up, as can be expected.- What a fool
am I! said my father, drawing his leg back
again,- let things be as they will, brother
Toby,'tis ever the precise answer.-And
how is,-the child, pray?  No answer.And where is Dr. $lop — added my father,
raising his voice aloud, and looking over the
balusters.-Susannah was out of hearing.
Of all the riddles of a m'arried life, said
my father, crossing the landing, in order to
set his back against the wall whilst he propounded it to my uncle Toby,-of all the
puzzling riddles, said he, in the marriage
state,-of which, you may trust me, brother
Toby, there are more asses' loads than all
Job's stock of asses could have carried,there is not one that has more intricacies in
it than this:-that from the very moment
the mistress of the house is brought to bed,
every female in it, from my lady's gentlewoman down to the cinder-wench, becomes
an inch taller for it; and gives herself more
airs upon that single inch, than all her other
inches put together.
I think rather, replied my uncle Toby,
that'tis we who sink an inch lower. -If
I meet but a woman with child,-I do it.
—'Tis a heavy tax upon that half of our fellow-creatures,- brother Shandy, said my uncle Toby.-'Tis a piteous burden upon'em,
continued he, shaking his head.-  Yes,
yes,'tis a painful thing,-said my father,
shaking his head too:-but certainly since
shaking of heads came into fashion, never
did two heads shake together, in concert,
from two such different springs.
Deuce take' em all,-said my uncle Toby
and my father; each to himself.
CHAP. XIII.
HOLLA!-YOU chairman!-here's sixpence:-do step into that bookseller's shop,
and call me a day-tall critic. I am very
willing to give any one of'em a crown to
help me with his tackling to get my fathe


-


rien d'essentiel a la vie; & son pere pour faire voir
un essai de son experience, entreprit d'achever l'ouvrage de la Nature, & de travailler i la formation de
l'Enfant avec le mime artifice que celui dont on se
sert pour faire 6cclore les Poulets en Egypte. I1
instruisit une Nourisse de tout ce qu'elle avoit a faire,
& ayant fait mettre son fils dans un pour proprement accommod6, ii recussit a l'elever & a lui faire
prendre ses accroissemens necessaires, par l'uniformite d'une chaleur 6trangere mresuree exactement sur
les degr6s d'un Thermometre, ou d'un autre instrument equivalent. (Vide Mich. Giustinian, ne gli Scritt
Liguri ai Cart; 2'23. 488.
On auroit toujours itd tres satisfait de l'industrie
d an pere si experiments dans l'Art de la Generation,
quand it n'auroit pfi prolonger la vie a son fils que
pour quelques mois, ou pour peu d'anndes.
Mois quand on se represente que l'Enfant a vecu
pres pe quatre-vingts ans, & qu'il a compose quatrevingts Ouvrages differents tous fruits d'une longue
lecture-il faut convenir que tout ce qui est incroyable
west pas toujours faux, & que la "Vraisemblance
n'est pas toujours du cote de la Verite."
11 n'avoit que dix-neuf ans lorsqu'il composa Gonopsychanthropologia de Origine Animae humante.
(Les Enfans celebres, revris & corriges par M. de la
tIonnoye de l'Acialemie Frangoise.)


i
I




~,OF TR,'STiSRAM SHANDY.


125S


and my uncle Toby. off tile stairs, and to put A
them to bed.
-'Tis even hioh time; for, except a
short nap which they both got whilst' Trim
was boring the jack-boots,-and which, by
the bye, did my father no sort of good, upon ]
the score of the bad hinge,-they have not
else shut their eyes since nine hours before
the time that Doctor Slop was led into the
back-parlor in that dirty pickle by Obadiah.
Was every day of my life to be as busy a
day as this,-and to take up-  Truce;
I will not finish that sentence till I have
made an observation upon the strange state
of affairs between the reader and myself,
just as things stand at present: —an observation never applicable before to any one
biographical writer since the creation of
the -world, but to myself;-and, I believe,
will never hold good to any other, until its
final destruction;-and, therefore, for the
very novelty of it alone, it must be worth
your Worships' attending to.
I am this month one whole year older
than I was this' time twelve-month; and
having got, as you perceive, almost into the
middle of my third volume,*-and no fartlier than to my first day's life,-'tis demonstrative that I have 364 days more life to,
write just now, than when I first set out,
so that, instead of advancing, as a common
writer, in my work with what I have- been
doing at it;-on the contrary, I am just
thrown'so many volumes back.-Was every
day of my life to be as busy a day as this,And why not? —and the transactions and
opinions of it to take up as much descrip-'
tion,-And for what reason should they
be cut short? as at this rate I should just
live 364 times faster than I should write,it must follow, an' please your Worships,
that the more I write; the more I shall have
to write,-and, consequently, the more
your Worships read, the more your Worships will have to read.
Will this be good for your Worships'
e-yes?
It will do well for mine; and was it not
that my Opinions will be the death of me,
T perceive I shall lead a fine life of it out
of this self-same Life of mine; or, in other


vords, shall lead a coupleof fi-ne lives to.:5rether.
As for the proposal of twelve volumes a
ear, or a volume a month, it no way alters
ny prospects:-write as I will, and rush as
may into the middle Of thiDgs, as Horace
idvises, —l shall never overtake myself,
whipp'd and d riven to the last pinch. At
the worst I shall have one day the start of
my pen -and on day is enouZh f r two
el           -1   lb
volumes!-and two volumes will be enough
fol- one year.
Heaven prosper the manufacturers of
paper under this propitious reign, which i,,s
now opened to us! as I trust its providence
will prosper'e'very thing else in it that is
taken in hand.
As for the propagation ofgeese, I give
myself no concern,-Naturels all-bountiful;
-1 shall never want tools to work with.
-So then, friend, you have got my fathe-t
and my uncle Toby off the stairs, and seen
them to bed!-And how did you manage
it?-You dropp'd a curtain at the stair-foot.
I thought you had no other way for it.Here's a crown for your trouble.
CHAP. XIV.
-THEN reach my breeches off the Chair,
said my father to Susannah,   There is
not amoment's time to dress you, Sir, cried
Susannah,-the child' is as black in the
face as my  As your what? said my.
father; for, like all orators, be was a dear
searcher into compare sons. Bless me.
Sir, said Susannah, the child's in a fit.
And where's Mr. Yorich?Never,where he -should be, said Susannah; but
his curate's in the dressing-room, with the,
child upon his arm, waiting- for the names,
-and my mistress bid me run as fast -as I
could to know, as Captain Shand is the
y
godfather, whether it should not be called
after him?
Were one sure, said my father to himself,
scratching his eye-brow, that the child was
expiring, one might as well compliment my


vords, shall lead a couple of fine lives to.
gether.
As for the proposal of twelve volumes a
year, or a volume a month, it no way alters
mny prospects:-write as I will, and rush as
I may into the middle of things, as Horace
advises, —I shall never overtake myself,
whipp'd' and driven to the last pinch. At
the worst I shall have one day the start of
my pen,-and one day is enough fbr two
volumes!-and two volumes will be enough
for one year.Heaven prosper the manufacturers of
paper under this propitious reign, which isnow opened to us! as I trust its providence
will prosper every thing else in it that is
taken in hand.
As for the propagation of geese, I give
myself no concern,-Nature is all-bountiful;
— I shall never want tools to work with.
-So then, friend, you have got my fathet
and my uncle Toby off the stairs, and seen
them to bed? —And how did you manage
it?-You dropp'd a curtain at the stair-foot.
I thought you had no other way for it.HIere's a crown for your trouble.
CHAP. XIV.
-THEN reach my breeches off the chair,
said my father to Susannah,  There is
not a moment's time,to dress you, Sir, cried
Susannah, —the child is as black in the
face as my -     As your what? said my.
father; for, like all orators, he was a dear
searcher into comparisons. -Bless me.
Sir, said Susannah, the child's in a fit.
~      And where's Mr. Yorick?  Never,where he should be, said Susannah; but
his curate's in the dressing-room, with the
child upon his arm, waiting for the nanme;
-and my mistress bid me run as fast as I
could to know, as Captain Shandy is the
godfather, whether it should not be called
after him? 
Were one sure, said my father to himself,
scratching his eye-brow, that the child was
expiring, one might as well compliment my
brother Toby as not,-and it would be a
pity, in such a case, to *hrow awavy so great




* According to the original editions.




126


LIFE AND OPINJIONS


a name as Trismegistus upon him:-but he  All the light I am able to give the reader
imay recover.                         at present is this, That the moment my
No, no-said my father to Susannah, I'll father cried Pish! he whisk'd himself about,
ge.t up, — There is no time, cried Susan- -and with his breeches held up by one
nah, the child's as black as my shoe.-  hand, and his night-gown thrown across
Trismegistus, said my father.-But stay,- the arm of'the other, he returned along the
thou art a leaky vessel, Susannah, added gallery to bed, something slower than he
my father; canst thou carry Trismegistus came.
in thy head the length of the gallery without scattering I-Can I cried Susannah, 
shutting the door in a huff.- If she can,
I'll be shot, said my father, bouncing out         CHAP    XV
of bed in the dark, and groping for his
breeches.                               I WISH I could write a chapter upon
Susannah ran with all speed along the sleep.
gallery.                                A fitter occasion could never have preMAy father made all possible speed to find sented itself, than what this moment offers,
his breeches.                          when all the curtains of the family are
Susannah got the start, and kept it.-  drawn,-the candles put out,-and no crea.'Tis Tris-something, cried Susannah.-  ture's eyes are open but a single one-for
There is no Christian name in the world, the other has been shut these twenty years,
said the curate, beginning with Tris-, but of my mother's nurse.
Tristram. --   Then'tis Tristram-gistus,  It is a fine subject.
quoth Susannah.                         And yet, as fine as it is, I would under.
- There is no gistus to it, noodle!- take to write a dozen chapters upon button-'tis my own name, replied the curate, dip- holes, both quicker and with more fame,
ping his hand, as he spoke, into the bason; than a single chapter upon this.
Tristram! said he, &c. &c. &c. &c.:-so  Button holes! there is something lively
Tristram was I called, and Tristram shall in the very idea of'em;-and trust me,
I be to the day of my death.          when I get amongst'em,-you gentry with
My father followed Susannah, with his great beards, look as grave as you will,night-gown across his arm, with nothing I'll make merry work with my button-holes,
more than his breeches on; fastened, through -t shall have'em all to myself,-'tis a
haste, with but a single button; and that maiden subject,-I shall run foul of no man's
button, through haste, thrust only half into wisdom or fine saying in it.
the button-hole.                        But for sleep,-I know I shall make
She has not forgot the name? cried nothing of it before I begin;-I am no
my father, half-opening the door.-  No, dab at your fine sayings, in the first place;
no, said the curate, with a tone of, intelli- -and in the next, I cannot for my soul set
gence. —  And the child is better, cried a grave face upon a bad matter, and tell
Susannah. -  And how does your mis- the world,-'tis the refuge of the unfortutress — As well, said Susannah, as can nate,-the enfranchisement of the prisoner,
be expected..Pish! said my father, the -the downy lap of the hopeless, the weary,
button of his breeches slipping out of the and the broken-hearted; nor could I set out
button-hole;-so that whether the interjec- with a lie in my mouth, by affirming that
tion was levelled at Susannah or the button- of all the soft and delicious functions of our
hole;-whether Pish was an interjection nature, by which the great Author of it, in
of contempt, or an interjection of modesty, his bounty, has been pleased to recompense
is a doubt; and must be a doubt till I shall the sufferings wherewith his justice and his
have time to write the three following good pleasure has wearied us,-that this is
favorite chapters; that is, my chapter of the chiefest (I know pleasures worth ten of
chamber-maids, my chapter of pishes, anm'  -or what a happiness it is to man,
my chapter of button-holes.                 the anxieties and passions of the day




OF TRISTRAM SIAND Y..27


are over, and he lies down upon his back,
that his soul shall be so seated within him,
that whichever way she turns her eyes, the
heavens shall look calm and sweet above
her,-no desire,-or fear,-or doubt, that
troubles the air; nor any difficulty, past,
present, or to come, that the imagination
may not pass over without offence, in that
sweet secession.
"God's blessing," said Sancho Panca,'be upon the man who first invented this
"self-same thing called Sleep:-it covers
"a man all over like a cloak."-  Now
there is more to me in this, and it speaks
warmer to my heart and affections, than all
the dissertations squeez'd out of the heads
of the learned together upon the subject.
-Not that I altogether disapprove of
what Montaigne advances upon it;-'tis
admirable in its way:-(I quote by memory.)
The world enjoys other pleasures, says
he, as they do that of sleep, without tasting
or feeling it as it slips and passes by.We should study and ruminate upon it, in
order to render proper thanks to him who
grants it to us.  For this end, I cause
myself to be disturbed in my sleep, that I
may the better and more sensibly relish
it: — and. yet I see few, says he again,
who live with less sleep, when need requires: my body is capable of a firm, but
not of a violent and sudden agitation,-I
evade of late all violent exercises,-I am
never weary with walking:-but from my
youth, I never liked to ride upon pavements.
I love to lie hard and alone, and even without my wife.T-his last word may stagger the faith of the world;-but remember,
"La Vraisemblance," (as Bayle says in the
affair of Liceti) " n'est pas toujours du C6te
"de la Verit." — And so much for sleep.
CHAP. XVI.
IF my wife will but venture him,-brother Toby, Trismegistus shall be dress'd
and brought down to us, whilst you and I
are getting our breakfast together.
Go, tell Susannah, Obadiah, to step
here.


She is run up-stairs, answered Obadiah,
this very instant, sobbing and crying, and
wringing her hands as if her heart would
break.
We shall have a rare month of it, said
my father, turning his head from Obadiah,
and looking wistfully in my uncle Toby's
face for some time,-we shall have a devilish month of it, brother Toby, said my
father, setting his arms a-kimbo, and shaking his head: fire, water, women, wind,brother Toby! —'Tis some misfortune,
quoth my uncle Toby.-   That it is, cried
my father,-to have so many jarring elements breaking loose, and riding triumph
in every corner of a gentleman's house.Little boots it to the peace of a family,
brother Toby, that you and I possess ourselves, and sit here silent and unmov'd,whilst such a storm is whistling over our
heads.And what's the matter, Susanna? --
They have called the child Tristram;-and
my mistress is just got out of an hysteric
fit about it. — No!-'tis not my fault, said
Susannah,-I told him it was Tristram
gistus.
--  Make tea for yourself, brother Toby
said my father, taking down his hat;-but
how different from the sallies and agitations
of voice and members which a common
reader would imagine!
For he spake in the sweetest modulation,
and took down his hat with the genteelest
movement of limbs, that ever affliction harmonized and attuned together.
Go to the bowling-green for Corporal
Trim, said my uncle Toby, speaking to
Obadiah, as soon as my father left the room.
CIAP. XVII.
WHEN the misfortune of my NosE fell so
heavily upon my father's head,-the reader
remembers that he walked instantly up
stairs, and cast himself down upon his bed;
and from hence, unless.he has a great insight into human nature, he will be apt to
expect a rotation of the same ascending
and descending movements from him, upon
this misfortune of my NAME.-NO.
The different weight, dear Sir,-nav




128


LIFE AND OPINIONS


even the different package of two vexations
of the same weight,-makes a very wide difference in our manners of bearing and gettinl through with thelm.-It is not half an
hour ago, when (in the great hurry and precipitation of a poor Devil's writing ibr daily
bread) I threw a fair sheet, which I had
just finished, and carefully wrote out, slap
into the fire, instead of the foul one.
Instantly I snatched off my wig, and
t1irew it perpendicularly, with all imaginable violence, up to the top of the room:indeed I caught it as it fell:-but there
was an end of the matter; nor do I think
any thing else in Nature would have given
such immediate ease. She, dear goddess,
by an instantaneous impulse, in all provokin., cases, determines us to a sally of this
or that member,-or else she thrusts us into
this or that place, or posture of the body,
we know not why;-but mark, Madam, we
live amongst riddles and mysteries:-the
most obvious things which come in our
way have dark sides, which the quickest
sight cannot penetrate into: and even the
clearest and most exalted understandings
amongst us find ourselves puzzled and at a
loss in almost every cranny of Nature's
works: so that this, like a thousand other
things, falls out for us in a way, which
though we cannot reason upon it, yet we
find the good of it, may it please your Reverences and your Worships,-and that's
enough for us.
Now, my father could not lie down with
this affliction for his life,-nor could he
carry it up stairs like the other;-he
walked composedly out with it to the fishpond.
Had my father leaned his head upon his
han., and reasoned an hour which way to
have gone,-Reason, with all her force,
could not have directed him to any thing
like it: there is something, Sir, in fishponds:-but what it is, I leave to systembuilders and fish-pond-diggers betwixt'em
to find out;-but there is something, under
the first disorderly transport of the humors,
so unaccountably becalming in an orderly
nd a short walk towards one of them, that
I have often wondered that neither Pytharoras, nor Plato, nor Solon, nor Lycurgus,
nor Mahomet, nor any one of your noted
tiwgrivers, ever gave order about them.




I


CHAP. XVIII.


YOUR Honor, said Trim, shutting the
parlor-door before he began to speak, has
heard, I imagine, of this unlucky accident.
--    yes, Trim, said my uncle Toby, and
it gives me great concern.-I am heartily
concerned too; but I hope your Honor, replied Trim, will do me the justice to believe, that it was not in the least owing to
me. —-To thee,-Trim?-cried my uncle
Toby, looking kindly in his face,-'twas
Susannah's and the curate's folly betwixt
them,-   What business could they have
together, an' please your Honor, in the garden?   In the gallery thou meanest, replied my uncle Toby.
Trim found he was upon a wrong scent,
and stopped short with a low bow. —Two
misfortunes, quoth the Corporal to himself,
are twice as many at least as are needful
to be talked over at one time;-the mischief the cow has done in breaking into the
fortifications, may be told his Honor hereafter.-Trim's casuistry and address, under the cover of his low bow, prevented all
suspicion in my uncle Toby; so he went
on with what he had to say to Trim as fol-.lows:
--  For my own part, Trim, though I
can see little or no difference betwixt my
nephew's being called Tristram or Trisme.
gistus; —yet as the thing sits so near my
brother's heart, Trim,-I would freely have
given a hundred pounds rather than it
should have happened.-A hundred pounds,
an' please your Honor! replied Trim,-I
would not give a cherry-stone to boot. —
Nor would I, Trim, upon my own account,
quoth my uncle Toby;-but my brother,
whom there is no arguing with in this case,
-maintains that a great deal more depends,
Trim, upon christian. names than what ignorant people imagine!-for he says there
never was a great or heroic action performed, since the world began, by one called
Tristram.-Nay, he will have it, Trim, that
a man can neither be learned, or wise, or
brave.-'Tis all fancy, an' please your
Honor:-I fought just, as well, replied the
Corporal, when the regiment called me
Trim, as when they called me James Butler.-  And for my own part, said my unclo
Toby, though I should blush to boast (Ir'




OF TRISTRAM SHANDY.


129


myself, Trim:-yet, had my name been
Alexander, I could have done no more at
Namur than my duty.-Bless your Honor! cried Trim, advancing three steps as
he spoke, does a man think of his christian
name when he goes upon the attack?Or when he stands in the trench, Trim?
cried my uncle Toby, looking firm.-Or
when he enters a breach? said Trim, pushing in between two chairs.   Or forces
the lines? cried my uncle, rising up, and
Iushing his crutch like a pike,-Or
facing a platoon? cried Trim, presenting
his stick like a firelock.  Or when he
marches up the glacis? cried my uncle


Toby, looking warm and setting
upon his stool.

his foot


CHAP. XIX.
MY father was returned fiom his walk to
he fish-pond,-and opened the parlor-door
in the very height of the attack, just as my
uncle Toby was marching up the glacis.Trim recovered his arms.-Never was my
uncle Toby caugh' in riding at such a desperate rate in his life! Alas! my uncle
Toby! had not a weightier matter called
forth all the ready eloquence of my father,
-how hadst thou then, and thy poor hobbyhorse too, been insulted!
My father hung up his hat with the same
air hIe took it down; and, after'giving a
slight look at the disorder of the room, he
took hold of one of the chairs which had
formed the corporal's breach, and placing it
over-against my uncle Toby, he sat down
in it, and, as soon as the tea-things were
taken avvay, and the door shut, he broke out
into a lamentation as follows:
MY FATHER'S LAMENTATION.
IT is in vain longer, said my father, addressing himself as much to Ernulphus's
curse, which was laid upon the corner of
the chimney-piece,-as to my uncle Toby,
who sat under it;-it is in vain longer, said
my father, in the most querulous monotony
imaginable, to struggle as I have done
against this most uncomfortable of human
persuasions.-I see it plainly, that either
R


for my own sins, brother Toby, or the sins
and follies of the Shandy family, Heaven
has thought fit to draw forth the heaviest
of its artillery against me; and that the
prosperity of my child is the point upon
which the whole force of it is directed to
play.-Such a thing would batter the whole
universe about our ears, brother Shandy,
said my uncle Toby, if it was so.- Unhappy Tristram! child of wrath! child of
decrepitude! interruption! mistake! and
discontent! What one misfortune or disaster in the book of embryotic evils, that
could unmechanize thy frame, or entangle
thy filaments, which has not fallen upon thy
head, or even thou camest into the world;
what evils in thy passage into it!-what
evils since! produced into being, in the decline of thy father's days,-when the- powers of his imagination and of his body were
waxing feeble,-when radical heat and
radical moisture, the elements which should
have temper'd thine, were drying up; and
nothing left to found thy stamina in, but
negations!-'Tis pitifill,-brother Toby, at
the best, and called out for all the little
helps that care and attention on both sides
could give it.-But how were we defeated'
You know the event, brother Toby!-'tis
too melancholy a one to be repeated now
-when the few animal spirits I was worth
in the world, and with which memory, fancy,
and quick parts should have been convey'd,
-were all dispersed, confused, confounded,
scattered, and sent to the devil!Here then was the time to have put a
stop to this persecution against him,-and
tried an experiment at least, whether calmness and serenity of mind in your sister,
with a due attention, brother Toby, to her
evacuations and repletions,-and the rest
of her non-naturals, might not, in the course
of nine months' gestation, have set all things
to rights.-My child was bereft of these!What a teasing life did she lead herself,
and, consequently, her fcetus too, with that
nonsensical anxiety of hers about lying-in
in town!  I thought my sister submitted
with the greatest patience, replied my uncle
Toby;-I never heard her utter one fretful
word about it. —-She fumed inwardly,
cried my father; and that, let me tell you,
brother, was ten times worse for the child,
-and then, what battles did she fight with




130


LIFE AND OPINIONS


me! and what perpetual storms about the
midwife!-  There she gave vent, said my
uncle Toby. —  Vent! cried my father,
looking up.
But what was all this, my dear Toby, to
the injuries done us by my child's coming
head-foremost into the world, when all I
wished in this general wreck of his frame,
was to have saved this little casket unbroke,
unrifled!With all my precautions, how was my
system turned topsy-turvy in the womb
with my child! his head exposed to the
hand of violence, and a pressure of 470
pounds avoirdupois weight acting perpendicularly upon its apex,-that at this hour,'tis ninety per cent. insurance, that the fine
net-work of the intellectual web be not rent
and torn to a thousand tatters.
--  Still we could have done!-Fool,
Coxcomb, Puppy,-give him but a Nose;Cripple, Dwarf, Driveller, Goosecap,(shape him as you will) the door of fortune
stands open,-O Licetus! Licetus! had I been
bless'd with a foetus five inches long and a
half, like thee,-Fate might have done her
worst.
Still, brother Toby, there was one cast
of the die left for our child, after all:Tristram! Tristram! Tristram!
We will send for Mr. Yorick, said my
uncle Toby.
You may send for whom you will, replied my father.
CHAP. XX.
WHAT a rate have I gone on at, curveting and frisking it away, two up and two
down, for three volumes* together, without
looking once behind, or even on one side of
me, to see whom I trod upon!-I'll tread
upon no one,-quoth I to myself, when I
mounted — I'll take a good rattling gallop:
out I'll not hurt the poorest jackass upon
the road.-So off I set,-up one lane,down another,-through this turnpike,over that, as if the arch-jockey of jockeys
bad got behind me.
Now. ride at this rate with what good


intention and resolution you may,-'tis a
million to one you'll do some one a mischief, if not yourself.-He's flung,-he's
off,-he's lost his seat,-he's down,-he'll
break his neck;-see! if he has not galloped full among the scaffolding of the undertaking critics!-he'll knock his brains
out against some of their posts!-he's
bounced out!-look,-he's now riding like
a madcap, full tilt through a-whole crowd
of painters, fiddlers, poets, biographers,
physicians, lawyers, logicians, players,
schoolmen, churchmen, statesmen, soldiers,
casuists, connoisseurs, prelates, popes, and
engineers.-Don't fear, said I,-I'll not hurt
the poorest jackass upon the King's highway. —  But your horse throws dirt; see,
you've splash'd a bishop!-I hope in God,'twas only Ernulphus, said I.-But you
have squirted full in the faces of Mess. Le
Moyne, De Romigny, and De Marcilly,
doctors of the Sorbonne.-That was last
year, replied I.-But you have trod this
moment upon a king.-Kings have bad
times on't, said I, to be trod upon by such
people as me.
You have done it, replied my accuser.
I deny it, quoth I, and so have got off;
and here am I standing with my bridle in
one hand, and with my cap in the other, to
tell my story. — And what is it You shall
hear in the next chapter.
CHAP. XXI.
As Francis the First, of France, was one
winterly night warming himself over the
embers of a wood-fire, and talking with his
first minister of sundry things for the good
of the state,*-it would not be amiss, said
the king, stirring up the embers with his
cane, if this good understanding betwixt
ourselves and Switzerland was a little
strengthened.-There is no end, Sire,
replied the minister, in giving money to
these people,-they would swallow up the
treasury of France- Poo! poo! answered
the king,-there are more ways, Mons. le
Premier, of bribing states, besides that of
giving money;-I'll pay Switzerland the


* According to the original editions.


* Vide Menagiana, Vol. I.




OF TRISTRAM~ SHAN\DY


131


ionor of standing godfather for my next cording to the measure of such a slender
child.-  Your majesty, said the minister, skill as God has vouchsafed me, and as
in so doing, would have all the grammari- convenient leisure from other occasions of
ans in Europe upon your back; —Switzer- needful profit and healthfill pastime have
land, as a republic, being a female, can in permitted) that these little books which I
no construction be godfather.-She-may here put into thy hands, might stand instead
be godmother, replied Francis, hastily;-so, of many bigger books,-yet have I carried
announce my intentions by a courier to- myself towards thee in such fanciful guise
morrow morning.                       of careless disport, that right sore am I
I am astonished, said Francis the First ashamed now to entreat thy lenity serious(that day fortnight), speaking to his minis- ly,-in beseeching thee to believe it of me,
ter as he entered the closet, that we have that, in the story of my father and his chrishad no answer from Switzerland.- Sire, tian names,-I have no thoughts of treadI wait upon you this moment, said Mons. le ing upon Francis the First,-nor, in the afPremier, to lay before you my dispatches fair of the nose, —upon Francis the Ninth,
upon that business.  They take it kindly, -nor, in the character of my uncle Toby,
said the king.- They do, Sire, replied the of characterizing the militating spirits of
minister, and have the highest sense of the my country;-the wound upon his groin
honor your majesty has done them,-but the is a wound to every comparison of that
republic, as godmother, claims her right, in kind:-nor by Trim,-that I meant the
this case, of naming the child.       Duke of Ormond, -or that my book is
In all reason quoth the' king;-she will wrote against predestination, or free will,
christen him Francis, or Henry, or Lewis, or taxes;-if'tis wrote against any thing,
or some other name that she knows will be -'tis wrote, an't please your Worships,
agreeable to us. —   Your majesty is de- against the Spleen! in order, by a more
ceived, replied the minister.-I have this frequent and a more convulsive elevation
hour received a dispatch from our resident, and depression of the diaphragm, and the
with the determination of the republic on succussations of the intercostal and abdomithat point also.-And what name has the nal muscles in laughter, to drive the gall
republic fixed upon for the Dauphin? Shad- and other bitter juices from the gall-bladrach, Meshech, Abed-nego, replied the min- der, liver, and sweet-bread of his majesister. - By Saint Peter's girdle, I will ty's subjects, with all the inimicitious pashave nothing to do with the Swiss, cried sions which belong to them, down into their
Francis the First, pulling up his breeches, duodenums.
and walking hastily across the floor.
Your majesty, replied the minister calmly,
cannot bring yourself off.
We'll pay them  in money, -said the             CHAP. XXIII.


king.
Sire, there are not sixty thousand crowns
in the treasury, answered the minister.-'1ll pawn the best jewel in my crown, quoth
Francis the First.
Your honor stands pawned already in this
matter, answered Monsieur le Premier.
Then, Mons. le Premier, said the king, by
- we'll go to war with'em.
CHAP. XXII.
ALBErr, gentle reader, I have lusted
earnestly, and endeavored carefully (ac

BUT can the thing be undone, Yorick?
said my father:-for in my opinion, continued he, it cannot. I am a vile canonist,
replied Yorick; -but of all evils, holding
suspense to be the most tormenting, we
shall at least know the worst of this matter.
-I hate these great dinners, said my fathei.
-   The size of the dinner is not the point
answered Yorick,-we want, Mr. Shandy,
to dive into the bottom of this doubt, whether the name can be changed or not;-and
as the beards of so many commissaries, offi
cials, advocates, proctors, registers, and of
the most eminent of our school-divines, and
others, are all to meet in the middle +'f




132


LIFE AND OPINIONS


one table, and Didius has so pressingly invited you,-who, in your distress would
miss such an occasion? All that is requisite, continued Yorick, is to apprize Didius,
and let him manage a conversation after
dinner so as to introduce the subject.Then my brother Toby, cried my father,
clapping his two hands together, shall go
with us.
Let my old tie-wig, quoth my uncle
Toby, and my laced regimentals, be hung
to the fire all night, Trim.
*    *    *     *    *     *    *     *
*    *    *     *    *     *    *     *
*          *    *    *     *    *     *
*    *     *    *    *     *    *     *
CHAP. XXV.
-   No doubt, Sir,-there is a whole
chapter wanting here,-and a chasm of ten
pages made in the book by it;-but the
bookbinder is neither a fool, nor a knave,
nor a puppy,-nor is the book a jot m*re
imperfect (at least upon that score);-but,
on the contrary the book is more perfect
and complete by wanting the chapter, than
having it, as I shall demonstrate to your
Reverences in this manner.-I question
first, by the bye, whether the same experiment might not be made as successfully
upon sundry other chapters,-but there is no
end, an' please your Reverences, in trying
experiments upon chapters,-we have had
enough of it;-   so there's an end of that
matter.
But before I begin my demonstration, let
me only tell you, that the chapter which I
have torn out, and which otherwise you
would all have been reading just now instead of this,-was the description of my
father's, my uncle Toby's, Trim's, and
Obadiah's setting out and journeying to the
visitation at ***.
We'll go in the coach, said my father.Prithee, have the arms been altered, Obadiah?-It would have made my story much
better to have begun with telling you that
at the time my mother's arms were added
to the Shandy's, when the coach was repainted upon my father's marriage, it had, ALtlen out, that the coach-painter, whether


by performing all his works with the left
hand, like Turphilius the Roman, or Hans
Holbein of Basil,-or whether'twas more
from the blunder of his head than hand,or whether, lastly, it was from the sinister
turn which every thing relating to our family was apt to take,-it so fell out, however,
to our reproach, that instead of the benddexter, which, since Harry the Eighth's
reign, was honestly our due,-a bend-sinister, by some of these fatalities, had been
drawn quite across the field of the Shandy arms.'Tis scarce credible that the
mind of so wise a man as my father was,
could be so much incommoded with so small
a matter. The word coach,-let it be
whose it would,-or coach-man, or coachhorse, or coach-hire, could never be named
in the family, but he constantly complained
of carrying this vile mark of illegitimacy
upon the door of his own: he never once
was able to step into the coach, or out of it,
without turning round to'take a view of the
arms, and making a vow at the same time,
that it was the last time he would ever set
his foot in it again, till the bend-sinister
was taken out;-but, like the affair of the
hinge, it was one of the many things which
the Destinies had set down in their books
ever to be grumbled at (and in wiser families than ours)-but never to be mended.
- Has the bend-sinister been brush'd
out, I say? said my father.-There has
been nothing brush'd out, Sir, answered
Obadiah, but the lining. -- We'll go o'
horseback, said my father, turning to
Yorick.-  Of all things in the world, except politics, the clergy know the least of
heraldry, said Yorick.- No matter for
that, cried my father; I should be. sorry to
appear with a blot in my escutcheon before
them. —  Never mind the bend-sinister,
said my uncle Toby, putting on his tie-wig.
--  No, indeed, said my father: you may go
with my aunt Dinah to a visitation with a
bend-sinister, if you think fit. -- y poor
uncle Toby blushed. My father was vexed
at himself.-No,-my dear brother Toby.
said my father, changing his tone; but tne
damp of the coach-lining about my loins,
may give me the sciatica again, as it dio
December, January, and February, lasi
winter: so, if you please, you shall ride my
wife's pad;-and, as you are to preach,




OF TRISTRAM SHANDY.


133


Yorick, you had better make the best of
your way before, and leave me to take care
of my brother Toby, and to follow at our
own rates.
Now, the chapter I was obliged to tear
out, was the description of this cavalcade,
in which corporal Trim and Obadiah, upon
two coach-horses abreast, led the way as
slow as a patrol,-whilst my uncle Toby,
in his laced regimentals and tie-wig, kept
his rank with my father, in deep roads and
dissertations alternately, upon the advantage of learning and arms, as each could
get the start.
-But the painting of this journey,
upon reviewing it, appears to be so much
above the style and manner of any thing
else I have been able to paint in this book,
that it could not have remained in it, without depreciating every other scene, and
destroying, at the same time, that necessary equipoise and balance (whether of good
or bad) betwixt chapter and chapter, from
whence the just proportions and harmony
of the whole work result. For my own
part, I am but just set up in the business, so
know little about it;-but, in my opinion,
to write a book, is for all the world like
humming a song;-be but in tune with
yourself, Madam,'tis no matter how high
or how low you take it.
-This is the reason, may it please your
Reverences, that some of the lowest and
flattest compositions pass off very well-(as
Yorick told my uncle Toby one night) by
siege. — My uncle Toby looked brisk at
the sound of the word siege; but could
make neither head nor tail of it.
I'm to preach at court next Sunday, said
IHomenas:-run over my notes:-     so I
humm'd over Doctor Homenas's notes;the modulation's verywell;-'twill do, Homenas, if it holds on at this rate;-so on I
humm'd,-and a tolerable tune I thought
it was; and to this hour, may it please your
Reverences, had never found out how low,
how flat, how spiritless and jejune it was,
but that, all of a sudden, up started an air
in the middle of it, so fine, so rich, so heavenly,-it carried my soul up with it into the
other world: now had I (as Montaigne complained in a parallel accident)-had I found
the declivity easy, or the ascent accessible,
-oartes I had been outwitted.-Your notes,


Homenas, I should have said, are good
notes;-but it was so perpendicular a precipice,-so wholly cut off from the rest of
the work, that, by the first note I humm'd,
I found myself flying into the other world,
and from thence discovered the vale from
whence I came, so deep, so low, and dismal, that I shall never have the heart to
descend into it again.
0:7 A dwarf who brings a standard along
with him to measure his own size,-take
my word, is a dwarf in more articles than
one.-And so much for tearing out of chapters.
CHAP. XXVI.
-SEE, if he is not cutting it all into
slips!-  and giving them about him to
light their pipes!'Tis abominable, answered Didius.-It should not go unnoticed, said Doctor Kysarcius: — O   he
was of the Kysarcii of the Low Countries.
Methinks, said Didius, half rising from
his chair, in order to remove a bottle and a
tall decanter, which stood in a direct line
betwixt him and Yorick,-you might have
spared this sarcastic stroke, and have hit
upon a more proper place, Mr. Yorick;-or
at least upon a more proper occasion to
have shown your contempt of what we have
been about. If the sermon is of no better
worth than to light pipes with,-'twas certainly, Sir, not good enough to be preached
before so learned a body; and, if'twas good
enough to be preached before so learned a
body,-'twas certainly, Sir, too good to
light their pipes with afterwards.
-   I have got him fast hung up, quoth
Didius to himself, upon one of the two horns
of my dilemma;-let him get off as he can.
I have undergone such unspeakable torments, in bringing forth this sermon, quoth
Yorick, upon this occasion,-that I declare,
Didius, I would suffer martyrdom,-and,
if it was possible, my horse with me, a
thousand times over, before I would sit
down and make such another: I was delivered of it at the wrong end of me;-it
came from my head instead of my heart;and it is for the pain it gave me, both in the
writing and preaching of it, that I revenge
12




134


LIFE AND OPINIONS


myself of it in this manner. — To preach, to
show the extent of our reading, or the subtleties of our wit,-to parade it in the eyes
of the vulgar with the beggarly accounts
of a little learning, tinselld over with a few
words, which glitter, but convey little light
and less warmth,-is a dishonest use of the
poor single half hour in a week which is
Dut into our hands:-'tis not preaching the
gospel,-but ourselves.-For my own part,
continued Yorick, I had rather direct five
words point-blank to the heart.
As Yorick pronounced the word pointblank, my uncle Toby rose up to say something upon projectiles,- when a, single
word, and no more, uttered from the opposite side of the table, drew every one's ears
towards it:-a word of all others in the
dictionary the last in that place to be expected:-a word I am ashamed to write,yet must be written, must be read;-illegal,
uncanonical,-guess ten thousand guesses,
mull iplied into themselves,-rack,-torture
your invention for ever, you're where you
was. -In short, I'll tell it in the next
chpter.
CHAP. XXVII.


eric spirit, was just going to snatch the
cudgels out of Didius's hands, in order to
bemaul Yorick to some purpose; —and that
the desperate monosyllable Z-ds, was
the exordium to an oration, which, as they
judged from the sample, presaged but a
rough kind of handling of him; so that my
uncle Toby's good-nature felt a pang for
what Yorick was about to undergo. But
seeing Phutatorius stop short, without any
attempt or desire to go on,-a third party
began to suppose, that it was no more than
an involuntary respiration, casually forming
itself into the shape of a twelve-penny oath,
-without'the sin or substance of one.
Others, and especially one or two who
sat next him, looked upon it; on the contrary, as a real and substantial oath, propensely formed against Yorick, to whom he
was known to bear no good liking;-which
said oath, as my father philosophized upon
it, actuallylay fretting and fuming at that
very time in the upper regions of Phutatorius's purtenance; and so was naturally,
and according to the due course of things,
first squeezed out by the sudden influx of
blood which was driven into the right ventricle of Phutatorius's heart, by the stroke
of surprise which so strange a theory.of
preaching had excited.
How finely we argue upon mistaken
facts!
There was not a soul busied in all these
various reasonings upon the monosyllable
which Phutatorius uttered,-who did not
take this for granted, proceeding upon it as
from an axiom, namely, that Phutatorius's
mind was intent upon the subject of debate
which was arising between Didius and
Yorick; and indeed, as he looked first towards the one, and then towards the other,
with the air of a man listening to what
was going forwards,-who would not have,thought the sameI But the truth was, that
Phutatorius knew not one word or one
syllable of what was passing; -but his
whole thoughts and attention were taken
up with a transaction which was going
forwards at that very instant within the
precincts of his own Galligaskins, and in a
part of them, where of all others he stood
most interested to watch accidents: so that,
notwithstanding he looked with all the at.
tention in the world, and had gradually


ZoUNDS!


------- Z-ds! cried Phutatorius,
partly to himself,-and yet high enough to
be heard;-and, what seemed odd,'twas
uttered in a construction of look, and in a
tone of voice, somewhat between that of
a man in amazement, and one in bodily
pain.
-One or two who had very nice ears; and
could distinguish the expression and mixture of the two tones as plainly as a third
or a fifth, or any other chord in music,were the most puzzled and perplexed with
it.-The concord was good itself;-but
then'twas quite out of the key, and no way
applicable to the subject started:-so that,
with all their knowledge, they could not
tell what in the world to make of it.
Others, who knew nothing of musical
expression, and merely lent their ears to
the plain import of the word, imagined that
Phutatorius, who was somewhat of a chol



OF TRISTRAM SHANDY.


135


srewed up every nerve and muscle in his
face to the utmost pitch the instrument
would bear, in order, as it was thought, to
give a sharp reply to Yorick, who sat overagainst him,-yet, I say, was Yorick never
once in any one domicil of Phutatorius's
brain;-but the true cause of his exclamation lay at least a yard below.
This I will endeavor to explain to you
with all imaginable decency.
You must be informed then, that Gastripheres, who had taken a turn into the
kitchen a little before dinner, to see how
things went on,-observing a wicker-basket
of fine chestnuts standing upon the dresser,
had ordered that a hundred or two of them
might be roasted and sent in as soon as
dinner was over;-Gastripheres enforcing
~his orders about them, that Didius, but
Phutatorius especially, were particularly
fond of'em.
About two minutes before the time that
my uncle Toby interrupted Yorick's harangue, - Gastripheres's chestnuts were
brought in:-and as Phutatorius's fondness
for'em was uppermost in the waiter's head,
he laid them directly before Phutatorius,
wrapt up hot in a clean damask napkin.
Now, whether it was physically impossible, with half a dozen hands all thrust into
the napkin at a time,-but that some one
chestnut, of more life and rotundity than
the rest, must be put in motion,-it so fell
out, however, that one was actually sent
rolling off the table; and as Phutatorius sat
straddling under,-it fell perpendicularly
into that particular aperture of Phutatorius's
breeches, for which, to the shame and indelicacy of our language be it spoke, there
is no chaste word throughout all Johnson's
Dictionary:-let it suffice to say,-it was
that particular aperture which, in all good
societies, the laws of decorum do strictly
require, like the temple of Janus (in peace
at least) to be universally shut up.
The neglect of this punctilio in Phutatorius (which by the bye should be a warning to all mankind) had opened a door to
this accident.Accident I call it, in compliance to a received mode of speaking;-but in no opposition to the opinion either of Acrites or
Mythogeras in this matter; I know they
were both prepossessed and fully persuaded


of it,-and are so to this hour, That there
was nothing of accident in the whole event,
-but that the chestnut's taking that particular course, and in a manner of its own
accord,-and then falling with allits heat
directly into that one particular place, and
no other,-was a real judgment upon Phutatorius for that filthy and obscene treatise
de Concubinis retinendis, which Phutatorius had published about twenty years ago,
-and was that identical week going to
give the world a second edition of.
It is not my business to dip my pen ir
this controversy: much, undoubtedly, may
be wrote on both sides of the question:all that concerns me, as an historian, is to
represent the matter of fact, and render it
credible to the reader, that the hiatus in
Phutatorius's breeches was sufficiently wide
to receive the chestnut;-and that the
chestnut, somehow or other, did fall perpendicularly, and piping hot, into it, without
Phutatorius's perceiving it, or any one else
at that time.
The genial warmth which the chestnut
imparted, was not undelectable for the first
twenty or five-and-twenty seconds;-and
did no more than gently solicit Phutatorius's attention towards the part:-but the
heat gradually increasing, and, in a few
seconds more, getting beyond the point of
all sober pleasure, and then advancing with
all speed into the regions of pain, the soul
of Phutatorius, together with all his ideas,
his thoughts, his attention, his imagination,
judgment, resolution, deliberation, ratiocination, memory, fancy, with ten battalions
of animal spirits, all tumultuously crowded
down, through different defiles and circuits,
to the place in danger, leaving all his upper
regions, as you may imagine, as empty as
my purse.
With the best intelligence which all
these messengers could bring him back,
Phutatorius was not able to dive into the
secret of what was going forward below;
nor could he make any kind of conjecture
what the devil was the matter with it.
However, as he knew not what the true
cause might turn out, he deemed it most
prudent, in the situation he was in at present,-to bear it, if possible, like a Stoicwhich, with the help of some wry faces and
compursions of the mouth, he had certainly 




136


LIFE AND


accomplished, had his imagination continued neuter:-but the sallies of the imagination are ungovernable in all things of this
kind:-a thought instantly darted into his
mind, that though the anguish had the
sensation of glowing heat,-it might, notwithstanding that, be a bite as well as a
burn; and if so, that possibly a newt or an
asker, or some such detested reptile, had
crept up, and was fastening his teeth;-the
horrid idea of which, with a fresh glow of
pain arising that instant from the chestnut,
seized Phutatorius with a sudden panic,and in the first terrifying disorder of the
passion, it threw him, as it has done the
best generals upon earth, quite off his
guard:-the effect of which was this, that
he leap'd incontinently up, uttering as he
rose that interjection of surprise so much
descanted upon, with the apposiopestic
break after it, marked thus, Z  ds!which, though not strictly canonical, was
still as little as any man could have said
upon the occasion;-and which, by the bye,
whether canonical or not, Phutatorius could
no more help than he could the cause of it.
Though this has taken up some time in
the narrative, it took up little more time in
the transaction than just to allow time for
Phutatorius to draw forth the chestnut, and
throw it down with violence upon the floor,
-and for Yorick to rise from his chair, and
pick the chestnut up.
It is curious to observe the triumph of
slight incidents over the mind.-What incredible weight they have in forming and
governing our opinions, both of men and
things!-that trifles, light as air, shall waft
a belief into the soul, and plant it so immovably within it,-that Euclid's demonstrations, could they be brought to batter it
in breach, should not all have power to
overthrow it!
Yorick, I said, picked up the chestnut
which Phutatorius's wrath had flung down:
— the action was trifling;-I am ashamed
to account for it:-he did it,-for no reason,
but that he thought the chestnut not a jot
worse for the adventure;-and that he
thought a good chestnut worth stooping
for.-But this incident, trifling as it was,
wrought differently in Phutatorius's head.
fie considered this act of Yorick's, in get

OPINIONS
ting off his chair and picking up the chest'
nut, as a plain acknowledgment in him,
that the chestnut was originally his;-and,
in course, that it must have been the owner
of the chestnut, and no one else, who could
have played him such a prank with it,
What greatly confirmed him in this opinion,
was this, That the table being parallelogramical, and very narrow, it afforded a
fair opportunity for Yorick, who sat directly
over-against Phutatorius, of slipping the
chestnut in:-and consequently that he did
it. The look of' something more than suspicion, which Phutatorius cast full upon
Yorick as these thoughts arose, too evidently spoke his opinion;-and as Phutatorius was naturally supposed to know more
of the matter than any person besides, his


opinion at once became the general one;
and for a reason very different from any
which have been yet given, in a little time
it was put out of all manner of dispute.
When great or unexpected events fall
out upon the stage of this sublunary world,
-the mind of man, which is an inquisitive
kind of a substance, naturally takes a flight
behind the scenes, to see what is the cause
and first spring of them.-The search was
not long in this instance.
It was well known:that Yorick had nevei
a good opinion of the Treatise which Phutatorius had wrote, de Concubinis retinendis, as a thing which he feared had done
hurt in the world:-and'twas easily found
out, that there was a mystical meaning in
Yorick's prank,-and that his chucking the
chestnut hot into Phutatorius's ***-***,
was a sarcastical fling at his book;-the
doctrines of which, they said, had inflamed
many an honest man in the same place.
This conceit awaken'd Somnolentius;made Agelastes smile;-and, if you can
recollect the precise look and air of a man's
face intent in finding out a riddle,-it threw
Gastripheres's into that form;-and, in
short, was thought by many to be a masterstroke of arch wit.
This, as the reader has seen from one
end to the other, was as groundless as the
dreams of philosophy. Yorick, no doubt, as
Shakspeare said of his ancestor,-" was a
"man of jest," but it was temper'd with
something which withheld him from that




OF TRISTRAM SHANDY.


137


and many other ungracious pranks, of which nod of his head, upon the part in question,
he as undeservedly bore the blame;-but it and lifting up his right leg at the same
was his misfortune, all his life long, to bear time, to ease and ventilate it.-If that is
the imputation of saying and doing a thou- the case, said Eugenius, I would advise you,
sand things, of which (unless my esteem Phutatorius, not to tamper with it by any
blinds me) his nature was incapable. All means; but if you will send to the next
I blame him for,-or rather, all I blame and printer, and trust your cure to such a simalternately like him for, was that singu- pie thing as a soft sheet of paper just come
larity of his temper, which would never off the press,-you need do nothing more
suffer him to take pains to set a story right than twist it round.- The damp paper,
with the world, however in his power. In quoth Yorick (who sat next to his friend
every ill-usage of that sort; he acted pre- Eugenius) though I know it has a refreshcisely as in the affair of his lean horse.- ing coolness in it, —yet, I presume, is no
He could have explained it to his honor, but more than the vehicle;-and that the oil
his spirit was above it; and besides, he ever and lamp-black, with which the paper is so
looked upon the inventor, the'propagator, strongly impregnated, does the business.
and believer, of an illiberal report, alike so -- Right, said Eugenius; and is, of any
injurious to him,-he could not stoop to tell outward application I would venture to rehis story to them;-and so trusted to time commend, the most anodyne and safe.
and truth to do-it for him.              Was it my case, said Gastripheres, as
This heroic cast produced him inconve- the main thing is the oil and lamp-black, I
niences in many respects;-in the present, should spread them thick upon a. rag, and
it was followed by the fixed resentment of clap it on directly. -That would make a
Phutatorius, who, as Yorick had just made very devil of it, replied Yorick. —And
an end of,his chestnut, rose up from his besides, added Eugenius, it would not anchair a second time, to let him know it;- swer the intention, which is the extreme
which indeed he did with a smile;- saying neatness and elegance of the prescription;
only, —that he would endeavor not to forget which the faculty hold to be half in half:the obligation.                       for consider, if the type is a very small one
But you must mark and carefully sepa- (which it should be) the sanative particles,
rate and distinguish these two things in which come into contact in this form, have
your mind:-                           the advantage of being spread so infinitely
-The smile was for the company;     thin, and with such a mathematical equality
-The threat was for Yorick.          (fresh paragraphs and' large capitals excepted) as no art or management of the
spatula can come up to.-It falls out very
luckily, replied Phutatorius, that the second edition of my Treatise, De Concubinis
CHAP. XXVIII.              retinendis is at this instant in the press.
You may take any leaf of it, said Eu-CAN you tell me, quoth Phutatorius, genius;-,no matter which. -Provided,
speaking to Gastripheres, who sat next to quoth Yorick, there is no bawdy in it.him,-for one would not apply to a surgeon  They are just now, replied Phutatorius,
in so foolish an affair,-can you tell me, printing off the ninth chapter;-which is
Gastripheres, what is best to take out the the last chapter but one in the book.fire?-  Ask Eugenius, said Gastripheres. Pray, what is'the title of that chapter!
-   That greatly depends, said Eugenius, said Yorick; making a respectful bow to
pretending ignorance'of the adventure, Phutatorius, as he spoke.- I think, anupon the nature of the part.-If it is a swered Phutatorius,'tis that de Re Concutender part, and a part which can conve- binarid.
niently be wrapt up, — It is' both the one  For JI-eaven's sake, keep out of that chap
and the other, replied Phutatorius, laying ter, quoth Yorick.
his hand as he spoke, with an ernphatical  -- By all means,-added Eugenius.
S
12*




138


LIFE AND OPINIONS


CHAP. XXIX.
-Now, quoth Didius, rising up, and lay-,ng his right hand, with his fingers spread,
upon his breast,-had such a blunder about
a Christian name happened before the Reformation, —[It happened the day before
yesterday, quoth my uncle Toby to himself]
-and when baptism was administer'd in
Latin,-['Twas all in English, said my uncle]-many things might have coincided
with it; and upon the authority of sundry
decreed cases, to have pronounced the baptism  null,-with a power of giving the
child a new name.-Had a priest, for instance, which was no uncommon thing,
through ignorance of the Latin tongue,
baptized a child of Tom-o'Stiles, in nomine
patrif <f filia c4 spiritum sanctos,-the
baptism was held null.  I beg your pardon, replied Kysarcius;-in that case, as
the mistake was only the terminations, the
baptism was valid;-and to have rendered
it null, the blunder of the priest should
have fallen upon the first syllable of each
noun;-and not, as in your case, upon the
last.
My father delighted in subtleties of this
kind, and listen'd with infinite attention.
Gastripheres, for example, continued Kysarcius, baptizes a child of John Stradling's
in gomine Gatris, c4c. cc. instead of in
nomine Patris, 4fc.-Is this a baptism --
No,-say the ablest canonists; inasmuch as
the radix of each word is hereby torn up,
and the sense and meaning of them removed and changed quite to another object;-for gomine does not signify a name,
nor gatris a father. —  hat do they signify? said my uncle Toby. Nothing at all,
-quoth Yorick.-Ergo, such a baptism
is null, said Kysarcius.In course, answered Yoi t k,- in a tone
two parts jest and one part earnest.But in the case cited, continued Kysarcius, where patrice is put for patris, filia
tor filii, and so on;-as it is a fault only in
the declension, and the roots of the words
continue untouch'd, the inflections of their
branenes, either this way or that, does not
is any sort hinder the baptism, inasmuch
as the same sense continues in the words
as before.-  But then, said Didius, the intention of the priest's pronouncing them


grammatically must have been proved to
have gone along with it.-   Right, answered Kysarciu:J; and of this, brother
Didius, we have an instance in a decree of
the decretals of Pope Leo the Third.But my brother's child, cried my uncle
Toby, has nothing to do with the Pope;-'tis the plain child of a Protestant gentleman, christen'd Tristram against the wills
and wishes both of his father and mother,
and all who are akin to it.
If the wills and wishes, said Kysarcius,
interrupting my uncle Toby, of those only
who stand related to Mr. Shandy's child,
were to have weight in this matter, Mrs.
Shandy, of all people, has the least to do
in it.   My uncle Toby laid down his
pipe, and my father drew his chair still
closer to the table, to hear the conclusion
of so strange an introduction.
--  It has not only been a question, Captain Shandy, amongst the* best lawyers
and civilians in this land, continued Kysarcius, "Whether the mother be of kin to
"her child;"-but, after much dispassionate
inquiry and jactitation of the arguments
on all sides,-it has been adjudged for the
negative;-namely, "That the mother is
"not of kin to her child." t My father instantly clapp'd his hand upon my uncle
Toby's mouth, under color of whispering
in his ear;-the truth was, he was alarmed
for Lillibullero,-and having a great desire
to hear more of so curious an argument,he begg'd my uncle Toby, for Heaven's
sake, not to disappoint him in it. — My
uncle Toby gave a nod,-resumed his pipe,
and contenting himself with whistling Lillibullero inwardly,-Kysarcius, Didius, and
Triptolemus went on with the discourse as
follows:This determination, continued Kysarcius,
how contrary soever it may seem to run to
the stream of vulgar ideas, yet had reason
strongly on its side, and has been put out
of all manner of dispute from the famous
case, known commonly by the name of the
Duke of Suffolk's Case.  It is cited in
Brooke, said Triptolemus. — And taken
notice of by Lord Coke, added Didius.And you may find it in Swinburn on Testaments, said Kysarcius.
* Vide Swinburn on Testaments, Part 7. ~ 8.
t Vide Brooke's Abridg. Tit. Administr. N. 47.




OF TRISTRAM SHANDY.


139


The case, Mr. Shandy, was thisIn the reign of Edward the Sixth, Charles
Duke of Suffolk having issue a son by one
venter, and a daughter by another venter,
made his last will, wherein he devised goods
to his son, and died: after whose death the
son died also;-but without will, without
wife, and without child;-his mother and
his sister by the father's side (for she was
born of the former venter) then living. The
mother took the administration of her son's
goods, according to the statute of the 21st
of Harry the eighth; whereby it is enacted,
That in case any person die intestate, the
administration of his goods shall be committed to the next of kin.
The administration being thus (surreptitiously) granted to the mother,-the sister,
by the father's side, commenced a suit before the Ecclesiastical Judge, alleging, 1st,
That she herself was next of kin; and,
2dly, That the mother was not of kin at all
to the party deceased; and, therefore, prayed the court, that the administration granted to the mother might be revoked, and be
committed unto her, as next of kin to the
deceased, by force of the said statute.
Hereupon, as it was a great cause, and
much depending upon its issue,-and many
causes of great property likely to be decided
in times to come, by the precedent to be
then made,-the most learned, as well in
the laws of this realm as in the civil law,
were consulted together, Whether the mother was of kin to her son, or no?-Whereunto not only the temporal lawyers,-but
the church-lawyers, -the juris-consulti, -
the jurisprudentes,-the civilians, —the
advocates,-the commissaries,-the judges
of the consistory and prerogative courts of
Canterbury and York, with the master of
the faculties, were all unanimously of opinion, That the mother was not of* kin to her
child.
And what said the Duchess of Suffolk to
it? said my uncle Toby.
The unexpectedness of my uncle Toby's
question, confounded Kysarcius more than
the ablest advocate.-He stopp'd a full
minute, looking in ny uncle Toby's face
without replying;-and in that single


minute Triptolemus put by him, and took
the lead as follows:'Tis a ground and principle in the law,
said Triptolemus, that things do not ascend,
but descend in it; and I make no doubt'tis
for this cause, that however true it is that
the child may be of the blood and seed of
its parents,-that the parents, nevertheless,
are not of the blood and seed of it; inasmuch as the parents are not begot by the
child, but the child by the parents;-for so
they write, Liberi sunt de sanguine patris
ma matris, sed pater <S mater non sunt de
sanguine liberorum.
-— But this, Triptolernus, cried Didius,
proves too much;-for, from this authority
cited, it would follow, not only what indeed
is granted on all sides, that the mother is
not of kin to her child,-but the father
likewise.-It is held, said Triptolemus,
the better opinion; because the father, the
mother, and the child, though they be three
persons, yet are they but (una caro*) one
flesh; and consequently no degree of kindred,-or any method of acquiring one in
nature.-  There you push the argument
again too far, cried Didius,-for there is no
prohibition in nature, though there is it.
the Levitical law,-but that a man may
beget a child upon his grandmother;-in
which case, supposing the issue a daughter,
she would stand in relation both of-But
who ever thought, cried Kysarcius, of lying
with his grandmother?-The young gentleman, replied Yorick, whom Selden speaks
of,-who not only thought of it, but justified his intention to his father by the argument drawn from-the law of retaliation:
"You lay, Sir, with my mother," said the
lad; "why may not I lie with yours" —--'Tis the argumentum  commune, added
Yorick. —'Tis as good, replied Eugenius,
taking down his hat, as they deserve.
The company broke up.
CHAP. XXX.
-AND pray, said my uncle Toby, lean.
ing upon Yorick, as he and my father were
helping him leisurely dc wn the stairs,

* Mater non nuimeratnr inter consanguineos, Bald.
un ult. C. de Verb, signific.


* Vide Brooke's Abridg. tit. Administr. N 54




140


LIFE AND OPINIONS


don't be terrified, Madam; this stair-case
conversation is not so long as the last.And pray, Yorick, said my uncle Toby,
which way is this said affair of Tristram at
length settled by these learned men?Very satisfactorily, replied Yorick; no mortal, Sir, has any concern with it;-for Mrs.
Shandy, the mother, is nothing at all akin
to him;-and as the mother's is the surest
side,-Mr. Shandy, in course, is still less
than nothing. —In short he is not as much
akin to him, Sir, as I am.That may well be, said my father,
shaking his head.
-   Let the learned say what they will,
there must certainly, quoth my uncle Toby,
have been some sort of consanguinity betwixt the Duchess of Suffolk and her son.
The vulgar are of the same opinion,
quoth Yorick, to this hour.
CHAP. XXXI.
THOUGa nmy father was hugely tickled
with the subtleties of these learned discourses,-'twas still but like the anointing
of a broken bone.-The moment he got
home, the weight of his afflictions returned
upon him but so much the heavier, as is
ever the case when the staff we lean on
slips from under us.-He became pensive,
-walked frequently forth to the fish-pond,
-let down one loop of his hat,-sigh'd
often,-forbore to snap;-and, as the hasty
sparks of temper, which occasion snapping,
so much assist perspiration and digestion,
as Hippocrates tell us,-he had certainly
fallen ill with the extinction of them, had
not his thoughts been critically drawn off,
and his health rescued by a fresh train of
disquietudes left him, with a legacy of a
thousand pounds, by my aunt Dinah.
My father had scarce read the letter,
when, taking the thing by the right end, he
instantly began to plague and puzzle his
nead how to lay it out mostly to the honor
of his family.-A hundred and fifty odd projects took possession of his brains by turns;
- -he would do this, and that, and t'other.
-He would go to Rome;-he would go to,a.w; —he would buy stock; —he would buy
John Hobson's farm,-he would new fore

front his house, and add a new wing to
make it even.-There was a fine watermill on this side; and he would build a
wind-mill on the other side of the river, in
full view, to answer it.-But above all
things in the world, he would inclose the
great Ox-moor, and send out my brother
Bobby immediately upon his travels.
But as the sum was finite, and consequently could not do everything;-and in
truth very few of these to any purpose,of all the projects which offered themselves
upon this occasion, the two last seemed to
make the deepest impression; and he would
infallibly have determined upon both at
once, but for the small inconvenience hinted
at above, which absolutely put him. under a
necessity of deciding in favor either of the
one or the other.
This was not altogether so easy to be
done; for though'tis certain my father had
long before set his heart upon this necessary part of my brother's education, and,
like a prudent man, had actually determined
to carry it into-execution, with the first
money that returned from the second creation of actions in the Mississippi-scheme, in
which he was an adventurer;-yet the Oxmoor, which was a fine, large, whinny,
undrained, unimproved common, belonging
to the Shandy-estate, had almost as old a
claim upon him: he had long and affectionately set his heart upon turning it likewise to some account.
But having never hitherto been pressed
with such a conjuncture of things as made
it necessary to settle either the priority or
justice of their claims,-like a wise man,
he had refrained entering into any nice or
critical examination about them: so that,
upon the dismission of every other project
at this crisis,-the two old projects, the Oxmoor, and my brother, divided him again;
and so equal a match were they for each
other, as to become the occasion of no small
contest in the old gentleman's mind,which of the two should be set a-going
first.
-   People may laugh as they will;but the case was this:It had ever been the custom of the family,
and by length of time was almost become a
matter of common right, that the eldest
son of it should have free ingress, egress,




OF TRISTRAM SHANDY.


141


and regress into foreign parts before marriage,-not only for the sake of bettering
his own private parts, by the benefit of exercise and change of so much air,-but
simply for the mere delectation of his fancy,
by the feather put into his cap of having
been abroad. —Tantum  valet, my father
would say, quantum sonat.
Now as this was a reasonable, and in
course a most Christian indulgence,-to deprive him of it, without why or wherefore,
-and thereby make an example of him, as
the first Shandy unwhirl'd about Europe in
a post-chaise, and only because he was a
heavy lad,-would be using him ten times
worse than a Turk.
On the other hand, the case of the Oxmoor was full as hard.'Exclusive of the original purchase-money, which was eight hundred pounds,-it
had cost the family eight hundred pounds
more in a law-suit about fifteen years before,-besides the Lord knows what trouble
and vexation.
It had been moreover in possession of the
Shandy family ever since the middle of the
last century; and though it lay full in view
before the house, bounded on one extremity
by the water-mill; and on the other by the
projected wind-mill spoken of above;-and
for all these reasons seemed to have the
fairest title of any part'of the estate to the
care and protection of the family,-yet, by
an unaccountable fatality, common to men,
as well as the ground they tread on,-it
had all along most shamefully been overlook'd; and, to speak the truth of it, had
suffered so much by it, that it would have
made any man's heart have bled (Obadiah
said) who understood the value of land, to
have rode over it, and only seen the condition it was in.
However, as neither the purchasing this
tract of ground, —nor indeed the placing
of it where it lay, were either of them,
properly speaking, of my father's doing,he had never thought himself any way concerned in the affair-till the fifteen years
before, when the breaking out of that
cursed law-suit mentioned above (and which
had arose about its boundaries)-which being altogether my father's own act and
deed, it naturally awakened every other
argument in its favor; and upon summing


them all up together, he saw, not merely
in interest, but in honor, he was bound to
do something for it;-and that now or never
was the time.
I think there must certainly have been a
mixture of ill-luck in it, that the reasons
on both sides should happen to be so equally
balanced by each other; for though my
father weigh'd them in all humois and conditions, spent many an anxious hour in the
most profound and abstracted meditation
upon what was best to be done;-reading
books of farming one day,-books of travels
another,-laying aside all passion whatever-viewing the arguments on both sides in
all their lights and circumstances,-communing every day with my uncle Toby,arguing with Yorick, and talking over the
whole affair of the Ox-moor with Obadiah,
-yet nothing in all that time appeared so
strongly in behalf of the one, which was
not either strictly applicable to the other,
or at least so far counterbalanced by some
consideration of equal weight, as to keep
the scales even.
For to be sure, with proper helps, and in
the hands of some people, though the Oxmoor would undoubtedly have made a different appearance in the world from what
it did, or ever could do, in the condition it
lay,-yet every tittle of this was true with
regard to my brother Bobby,-let Obadiah
say what.he would. —
In point of interest, the contest, I own,
at first sight, did not appear so undecisive
betwixt them; for whenever my father
took pen and ink in hand, and set about
calculating the simple expense of paring
and burning, and fencing in the Oxmoor, &c. &c.-with the certain profit it
would bring him in return,-the latter
turned out so prodigiously in his way of
working the account, that you would have
sworn the Ox-moor would have carried all
before it; for it was plain he should reap a
hundred lasts of rape, at twenty pounds a
last, the very first year,-besides an excellent crop of wheat the year following;and the year after that, to speak within
bounds, a hundred,-but, in all likelihood,
a hundred and fifty,-if not two hundred
quarters of pease and beans, besides po.
tatoes without end.-But then, to think he
was all this while breedirg up my brothle




142


LIFE AND OPINIONS


like a hog to eat them,-knocked all on the
head again, and generally left the old gentleman in such a state of suspense,-that,
as he often declared to my uncle Toby,lie knew no more than his heels what to do.
Nobody but he who has felt it, can conceive what a plaguing thing it is to have a
man's mind torn asunder by two projects
of equal strength, both obstinately pulling
in a contrary direction at the same time;
for, to say nothing of the havoc, which by
a certain consequence is unavoidably made
by it all over the finer system of the nerves,
which you know convey the animal spirits
and more subtle juices from the heart to the
head, and so on,-it is not to be told in what
a degree such a wayward kind of friction
works upon the more gross and solid parts,
wasting the fat and impairing the strength
of a man, every time, as it goes backwards
and forwards.
My father had certainly sunk under this
evil, as certainly as he had done under that
of my CHRISTIAN NAME, -lad he not been
rescued out of it, as he was out of that, by
a fresh evil:-the misfortune of my brother
Bobby's death.
What is the life of man? Is it not to
shift from side to side?-from sorrow to
sorrow?-to button up one cause of vexation,-and unbutton another?
CHAP. XXXII.
FROM this moment I am to be considered
as heir-apparent to the Shandy family;and it is from this point, properly, that the
story of my LIFE and OPINIONS sets out.
With all my hurry and precipitation, I have
been but clearing the ground to raise the
building;-and such a building do I foresee
it will turn out, as never was planned, and
as never was executed, since Adam. In less
than five minutes I shall have thrown my
pen into the fire, and the little drop of thick
ink which is left remaining at the bottom
ft my ink-horn, after it:-I have but half
a score of things to do in the time;-I have
a thing to name,-a thing to lament,-a
thing to hope,-a thing to promise,-and a
Ihiug to threaten.-I have a thing to supIose —a thing to declare,-a thing to con

ceal,-a thing to choose,-and a thing to
pray for.-This chapter, therefore, I name
the chapter of THINGS,-and my next chapter to it, that is, the first chapter of my
next volume, if I live, shall be my chapter
upon WHISKERS, in order to keep up some
sort of connexion in my works.
The thing I lament is, that things have
crowded in so thick upon me, that I have
not been able to get into that part of my
work, towards which I have all the way
looked forwards with so much earnest desire; and that is the campaigns, but especially the amours, of my uncle Toby, the
events of which are of so singular a nature,
and so Cervantic a cast, that if I can so
manage it, as to convey but the same impressions to every other brain which the occurrences themselves excite in my own,-.
will answer for it, the book shall make its
way in the world much better than its
master has done before it.-Oh Tristram!
Tristram! can this but be once brought
about,-the credit which will attend thee
as an author, shall counterbalance the many
evils which have befallen thee as a man;thou wilt feast upon the one,-when thou
hast lost all sense and remembrance of the
other!No wonder I itch so much as I do to get
at these amours:-they are the choicest
morsel of my whole story! and when I do
get at'em,-assure yourselves, good folks,
-(nor do I value whose squeamish stomach
takes offence at it) I shall not be at all nice
in the choice of my words!-and that's the
thing I have to declare.-I shall never get
all through in five minutes, that I fear:and the thing I hope is, that your Worships
and Reverences are nrot offended:-if you
are, depend upon't I'll give you something,
my good gentry, next year, to be offended
at;-that's my dear Jenny's way;-but
who my Jenny is,-and which is the right
and which the wrong end of a woman,is the thing to be concealed:-it shall be
told you in the next chapter but one to my
chapter of Button-holes; —and not one
chapter before.
And now that you have just got to the
end of these four volumes,*-the thing I
have to ask is, how you feel your heads 


* According to the original editlonl




OF TRISTRA




my own aches dismally! -As for your
healths, I know they are much better.True Shandeism, think what you will
against it, opens the heart and lungs; and,
like all those affections which partake of
its nature, it forces the blood and other
vital fluids of the body to run freely through
their channels, and makes the wheel of life
run long and cheerfully round.
Was I left, like Sancho Panca, to choose
my kingdom, it should not be maritime,cr a kingdom of blacks, to make a penny
of;-no, it should be a kingdom of hearty
laughing subjects: and as the bilious and
more saturnine passions, by creating disorders in the blood and humors, have as


LM SIIANDY.                       143
bad an influence, I see, upon the body
politic as body natural;-and as nothing but
a habit of virtue can fully govern those
passions, and subject them to reason,-I
should add to my prayer,-that God would
give my subjects grace to be WISE as they
were MERRY; and then I should be the
happiest monarch, and they the happiest
people, under Heaven.
And so with this moral for the present,
may it please your Worships and your
Reverences, I take my leave of you till
this time twelve-month, when (unless this
vile cough kills me in the mean time) I'll
have another pluck at your beards, and lay
open a story to the world you little dream of




THE
LIFE AND OPINIONS
OF
Orl"train *ilantrtt


GENTLEMAN.


CHAP. I.
IF it had not been for those two mettlesome tits, and that madcap of a postilion
who drove them from Stilton to Stamford,
the thought had never entered my head.
He flew like lightning:-there was a slope
of three miles and a half;-we scarce touched the ground,-the motion was most rapid,
-most impetuous;-'twas communicated
to my brain,-my heart partook of it.-" By
"the great God of day," said I, looking
towards the sun, and thrusting my arm out
of the fore-window of the chaise, as I made
my vow, "I will lock up my study-door
"the moment I get home, and throw the
"key of it ninety feet below the surface, in
"the draw-well at the back of my house."
The London wagon confirmed me in
my resolution; it hung tottering upon the
hill, scarce progressive, dragg'd,-dragg'd
up by eight heavy beasts,-" by main
"strength!"-quoth I, nodding; " but your
"betters draw the same way, and something
"of every body's!-  O rare!"
Tell me, ye learned, shall we for ever be
adding so much to the bulk,-so little to the
stock?
Shall we for ever make new books, as
apothecaries make new mixtures, by pouring only out of one vessel into another 1
Are we for ever to be twisting, and untwisting, the same rope? for ever in the
same'track,-for ever at the same pace 
Shall we be destined to the days of eternlly, on holydays as well as working-days,
to be showing the relics of learning, as
monks do the relics of their saints,-without working one,-one single miracle with
Jiene?


Who made Man, with powers which dart
him from earth to heaven in a moment;that great, that most excellent, and most
noble creature of the world-the miracle
of nature, as Zoroaster, in his book gept qvCow,, called him;- the Shekinah of the
Divine Presence, as Chrysostom: — the
image of God, as Moses;-the ray of Divinity, as Plato;-the marvel of marvels,
as Aristotle,-to go sneaking on at this
pitiful,.-pimping,-pettifogging rate?
I scorn to be as abusive as Horace upon
the occasion;-but if there is no catachresis in the wish, and no sin in it, I wish
from my soul, that every imitator in Great
Britain, France, and Ireland, had the farcy
for his pains; and that there was a good
farcical house, large enough to hold,-ay,
-and sublimate them, tag-rag and bob-tail,
male and female, all together: and this
leads me to the affair of whiskers;-but
by what chain of ideas,-I leave as a legacy
in mortmain to Prudes and Tartufs, to en
joy and make the most of.
UPON WHISKERS.
I'm sorry I made it;-'twas as inconsiderate a promise as ever entered a man's head.
-A chapter upon whiskers! alas! the world
will not bear it!-'tis a delicate world;but I knew not of what mettle it was made,
-nor had I ever seen the under-written
fragment; otherwise, as surely as noses are
noses, and whiskers are whiskers still (let
the world say what it will to the contrary),
so surely would I have steered clear of this
dangerous chapter.
THE FRAGMENT.
*    *    *    *     *    *     *     *
*    *    *    *     *    *     *     *




OF TRISTRA M SI-IA NDY.


145


— You are half asleep, my good lady, said time beginning to draw the attention of the
the old gentleman, taking hold of the old maids of honor towards the terrace before
lady's hand, and giving it a gentle squeeze the palace-gate, where the guard was
as he pronounced the word whiskers.-   mounted. The lady De Baussiere fell deeply
Shall we change the subject? —  By no in love with him,-La Battarelle did the
means, replied the old lady;-I like your same; it was the finest weather for it that
account of those matters: so throwing a ever was remembered in Navarre.-La
thin gauze handkerchief over her head, and Guyol, La Maronette, La Sabatiere, fell in
leaning it back upon the chair, with her love with the Sieur de Croix also; La Reface turned towards him, and advancing her bours and La Fosseuse knew better:-De
two feet as she reclined herself,-I desire, Croix had failed in an attempt to recomcontinued she, you will go on.         mend himself to La Rebours; and La ReThe old gentleman went on as follows:- hours and La Fosseuse were inseparable.
Whiskers! cried the Queen of Navarre,    The Queen of Navarre was sitting with
dropping her knotting-ball as La Fosseuse her ladies in the painted bow-window, facing
uttered the word.-   Whiskers, Madam! the gate of the second court, as De Croix
said La Fosseuse, pinning the ball to the passed through it.-He is handsome, said
queen's apron, and making a courtesy as the Lady Baussiere.-  He has a good mien,
she repeated it.                       said La Battarelle.- He is finely shaped,
La Fosseuse's voice was naturally soft said La Guyol,- I never saw-an officer
and low, yet'twas an articulate voice; and of the horse-guards in my life, said La
every letter of the word whiskers fell dis- Maronette, with two such legs; — Or who
tinctly upon the Queen of Navarre's ear. stood so well upon them, said La Sabatiere.
-  Whiskers! cried the queen, laying a    But he has no whiskers, cried La Fosgreater stress upon the word, and as if she seuse.-Not a pile, said La Rebours.
had still distrusted her ears.  Whiskers!  The queen went directly to her oratory,
replied La Fosseuse, repeating the word musing all the way as she walked through
a third time.-There is not a cavalier, the gallery, upon the subject; turning t
Madam, of his age in Navarre, continued this way and that way in her fancy.-Ave
the maid of honor, pressing the page's in- Maria +-what can La Fosseuse mean?
terest upon the queen, that has so gallant a said she, kneeling down upon the cushion.
pair    Of what cried Margaret, smiling.  La Guyol, La Battarelle, La Maronette,
-   Of whiskers, said La Fosseuse, with La Sabatiere, retired instantly to their
infinite modesty.                      chambers. Whiskers! said all four of them
The word whiskers still stood its ground, to themselves, as they bolted the doors on
and continued to be made use of in most of the inside.
the best companies throughout the little  The Lady Carnavallette was counting
king'dom of Navarre, notwithstanding the her beads with both hands, unsuspected
indiscreet use which La Fosseuse had made under her farthingale.-Frorm St. Anthonv
of it: the truth was, La Fosseuse had pro- down to St. Ursula, inclusive, not a saint
nounced the word not only before the queen, passed through her finger without whiskers.:
but upon sundry other occasions at court, St. Francis, St. Dominick, St. Bennet, St.
with an accent which always implied some- Basil, St. Bridget, had all whiskers.
thing of a mystery.-And as the court of  The Lady Baussiere had got into a wilMargaret, as all the wcrld knows, was at derness of conceits, with moralizing too
that time a mixture of gallantry and devo- intricately upon La Fosseuse's text:-she
tion,-and whiskers being Ps applicable to mounted her palfrey, her page followed her.
the one as the other, the word naturally — the host.passed by,-the Lady Baussieie
stood its ground;-it gained full as much rode on.
as it lost; that is, the clergy-were for it,-  One denier, cried the Order of Mercy,the laity were against it,-and, for the one single denier, in behalf of a thousand
women, they were divided.              patient captives, whose eyes look towardo
The excellency of the figure and mien Heaven and vou for their redemption.
of the young Sieur De Croix, was at that  — The Lady Baussiere rcde on.
T                                   13




146


LIFE AND OPINIONS


Pity the unhappy, said a devout, venerable, hoary-headed man, meekly holding up
a box begirt with iron in his withered hands.
-I beg for the unfortunate:-good my lady,'tis for a prison,-for an hospital,-'tis for
an old man,-a poor man undone by shipwreck, by suretiship, by fire;-I call God
and all his angels to witness,-'tis to clothe
the naked, to feed the hungry;-'tis to
comfort the sick and the broken-hearted.
The Lady Baussiere rode on.
A decayed kinsman bowed himself to the
ground.
-   The Lady Baussiere rode on.
He ran begging bare-headed on one side
of her palfrey, conjuring her by the former
bonds of friendship, alliance, consanguinity,
&c.-Cousin, aunt, sister, mother,-for virrue's sake, for your own, for mine, for
Christ's sake, remember me!-pity me!
The Lady Baussiere rode on.
Take hold of my whiskers, said the Lady
Baussiere. —The page took hold of her
palfrey. She dismounted at the end of the
terrace.
There are some trains of certain ideas
which leave prints of themselves about our
eyes and eye-brows: and there is a consciousness of it, somewhere about the heart,
which serves but to make these etchings,he stronger.-We see, spell, and put them.ogether, without a dictionary.
Ha, ha! he, hee! cried La Guyol and
La Sabatiere, looking close at each other's
prints.-Ho, ho! cried La Battarelle and
Maronette, doing the same.-Whist! cried
one;-st, st, said a second;-hush, quoth a
third;-poo, poo, replied a fourth;-gramercy! cried the Lady Carnavallette;-'twas she who bewhisker'd St. Bridget.
La Fosseuse drew her bodkin from the
knot of her hair, and having traced the outline of a small whisker, with the blunt end
of it, upon one side of her upper lip, put it
into La Rebours' hand.-La Rebours shook
her head.
The Lady Baussiere coughed thrice into
the inside of her muff.-La Guyol smiled.
— Fy! said the Lady Baussiere. The
Queen of Navarre touched her eye with
the tip of ner fore-finger,-as much as to
say, I understand you all.
"'was plain to the whole court the word
was ruined: La Fosseuse had given it a


wound, and it was not the beter for passing through all these defiles.-It made a
faint stand, however, for a few months; by
the expiration of which, the Sieur de Croix,
finding it high time to leave Navarre for
want of whiskers,-the word in course became indecent, and (after a few efforts)
absolutely unfit for use.
The best word in the best language of
the best world, must have suffered under
such combinations. -The Curate d'Estella wrote a book against them, setting
forth the dangers of accessory ideas, and
warning the Navarrois against them.
Does not all the world know, said the
Curate d'Estella, at the conclusion of his
work, that Noses ran the same fate, some
centuries ago, in most parts of Europe, which
whiskers have now done in the kingdom of
Navarre?-The evil, indeed, spread no farther then; but have not beds and bolsters,
and night-caps and chamber-pots, stood upon
the brink of destruction ever since? Are
not trouse, and placket-holes, and pumphandles,-and spigots, and faucets, in danger still fiom the same association?-Chastity, by nature the gentlest of all affections,
-give it but its head,-'tis like a ramping
and a roaring lion.
The drift of the Curate d'Estella's argument was not understood.-They ran the
scent the wrong way.-The world bridled
his ass at the tail.-And when the extremes
of Delicacy, and the beginnings of Concu,
piscence, hold their next provincial chapter
together, they may decree that bawdy also.
CHAP. II.
WHEN my father received the letter which
brought him the melancholy account of my
brother Bobby's death, he was busy calculating the expense of his riding post from
Calais to Paris, and so on to Lyons.'Twas a most inauspicious journey; my
father having had every foot of it to travel
over again, and his calculation to begin
afresh when he had almost got to the end
of it, by Obadiah's opening the door to ac.
quaint him the family was out of yeast,and to ask whether he might not take the
great coach-horse early in the morning, and




OF TRISTRAM SHANDY.


147


ride in search of some. — With all my from  so lousy a town as Nevers. What
heart, Obadiah, said my father (pursuing think'st thou, Toby? added my father in a
his journey);-take the coach-horse, and sprightly tone.-Unless it be a garrison
welcome. —  But he wants a shoe, poor town, said my uncle Toby, for then-I
creature! said Obadiah.- Poor creature! shall be a fool, said my father, smiling to
said my uncle Toby, vibrating the note himself, as long as I live. —So giving a
back again, like a string in unison. —  second nod, and keeping his compasses
Then ride the Scotch horse, quoth my still upon Nevers with one hand, and hold.
father hastily. —He cannot bear a saddle ing his book of the post-roads in the other,
uponhis back, quoth Obadiah, for the whole -half calculating and half listening, he
world. -The Devil's in that horse; then leaned forwards upon the table with both
take Patriot, cried my father, and shut the elbows, as my uncle Toby hummed over
door. —Patriot is sold, said Obadiah. - the letter.
Here's for you! cried my father, making       -
a pause, and looking in my uncle Toby's-      -
face as if the thing had not been a mat-  --
ter of fact. — Your Worship ordered me-       -    -  -       ---    - he's
to sell him last April, said Obadiah.-  gone! said my uncle Toby. - Where 
Then go on foot for your pains, cried my -Who? cried my father, — My nephew,
father.-  I had much rather walk than said my uncle Toby. -   What, without
ride, said Obadiah, shutting the door.  leave,-without money, -without goverWhat plagues! cried my father, going nor'? cried my father in amazement. —
on with his calculation.-  But the waters No:-he is (ead, my dear brother, quoth
are out, said Obadiah, —opening the door my uncle Toby.-  Without being ill 3
again.                                cried my father again.   I dare say not,
Till that moment, my father, who had said my uncle Toby, in a low voice, and
a map of Sanson's, and a book of the post- fetching a deep sigh from the bottom of his
roads before him, had kept his hand upon heart; he has been ill enough, poor lad!
the head of his compasses, with one foot I'll answer for him,-for he is dead.
of them fixed upon Nevers, the last stage  When Agrippina was told of her son's
he had paid for,-purposing to go on from death, Tacitus informs us, that not being
that point with his journey and calculation, able to moderate the violence of her pasas soon as Obadiah quitted the room: but sions, she abruptly broke offher work.this second attack of Obadiah's, in opening My father stuck his compasses into Nevers
the door and laying the whole country un- but so much the faster.-What contrarieder water, was too much.-He let go his ties! his, indeed, was matter of calculation!
compasses,-or rather, with a mixed'mo- Agrippina's must have been quite a differtion between accident and anger, he threw ent affair; who else could pretend to reason
them upon the table: and then there was from history?
nothing for him to do, but to return back  How my father went on, in'my opinion,
to Calais (like many others)'as wise as he deserves a chapter to itself.
set out.
When the letter was brought into the
parlor, which contained the news of my
brother's death, my father had got forwards         CHAP. III.
again upon his journey to within a stride
of the compasses of the very same stage  -       A-ND a chapter it shall have,
of Nevers. — By your leave, Mons. San- and a devil of a one too; so look to yourson, cried my father, striking the point of selves.
his compasses through Nevers into the table,'Tis either Plato, or Plutarch, or Seneca,
-and nodding to my uncle Toby, to see or Xenophon, or Epictetus, or Theophraswhdt was in the letter,-twice in one night tus, or Lucian,-or some one, perhaps, of,s too much for an English gentleman and later date,-either Cardan, or Budteus, or
his son, Mons. Sanson, to be turned back Petrarch, or Stella,-or, possibly, it mav




148


LIFE ANJD OPINION


be some divine or father of the church; fortune was the better of the two; for inSt. Austin, or St. Cyprian, or Barnard, who stance, where the pleasure of the harangue
affirms, that it is an irresistible and natural was as ten, and the pain of the misfortune
passion to weep for the loss of our friends but as five,-my father gained half in half;
or children:-and Seneca (I'm  positive) and, consequently, was as well again off,
tells us somewhere, that such griefs evacu- as if it had never befallen him.
ate themselves best by that particular chan-  This clue will unravel what otherwise
nel: and, accordingly, we find, that David would seem very inconsistent in my father's
wept for his son Absalom, Adrian for his domestic character; and it is this that, in
Antinous, Niobe for her children, and that the provocations arising from the neglects
Apollodorus and Crito both shed tears for and blunders of servants, or other mishaps,
Socrates before his death.             unavoidable in a family, his anger, or rather
My father managed his affliction other- the duration of it, eternally ran counter to
wise; and, indeed, differently from  most all conjecture.
men, either ancient or modern; for he    My father had, a favorite little mare.
neither wept it away, as the Hebrews and which he had consigned over to a most
the Romans,-nor slept it off, as the Lap- beautiful Arabian horse, in order to have a
landers,-nor hanged it, as the English,- pad out of her for his own riding. He was
nor drowned it, as the Germans; nor did sanguine in all his projects; so talked about
he curse it, or damn it, or excommunicate his pad every day'with as absolute a security,
it, or rhyme it, or lillebullero it.-  as if he had been reared, broke,-and bri-He got rid of it, however.          dled and saddled at his door ready foi
Will your Worships give me leave to mounting. By some neglect or other in
squeeze in a story between these two pages? Obadiah, it so fell out, that my father's exWhen Tully was bereft of his dear daugh- pectations were answered with nothing better Tullia, at first he laid it to his heart,- ter than a mule, and as ugly a beast of the
he listened to the voice of nature, and modu- kind as ever was produced.
lated his own unto it. - 0 my Tullia! my  My mother and my uncle Toby expected
daughter! my child! - still, still, still, -  my father would be the death of Obadiab.'twas 0 my Tullia!-my Tullia! Methinks -and that there would never be an end of
I see my Tullia, I hear my Tullia, I talk the disaster.-See here! you rascal, cried
with my Tullia.-But, as soon as he began my father, pointing to the mule, what you
to look into the stores of philosophy, and have done! - It was not me, said Obadiah.
consider how many excellent things might   How do I know that? replied my
be said upon the occasion,-nobody upon father.
earth can conceive, says the great orator,  Triumph swam in my father's eyes at
how happy, how joyful it made me.     the repartee,-the Attic salt brought water
My father was as proud of his eloquence into them;-and so Obadiah heard no more
as Marcus Tullius Cicero could be for his about it.
life, and, for aught I am convinced of to  Now let us go back to my brother's death.
the contrary at present, with as much rea-  Philosophy has a fine saying for every
son: it was, indeed, his strength and his thing.-For Death, it has an entire set: the
weakness too.- His strength, for'he was misery was, they all at once rushed so into
by nature eloquent; and his weakness, for my father's head, that'twas difficult to string
he was hourly a dupe to it; and, provided them together, so as to make any thing of a
an occasion in life would but permit him consistent show out of them.-He took them
1o shov, his talents, or say either a wise as they came.thing, a witty, o. a shrewd one-(bating  "'Tis an inevitable chance,-the first
the case of a systematic misfortune)-he " statute in'Magna Charta;-it is an everhad all he wanted.-A blessing which tied "lasting act of parliament, my dear broup my father's tongue, and a misfortune "ther,-All must die.
which set it loose with a good grace, were  "If my son could not have died, it had been
orntty equa.. sometimes, indeed, the mis- "matter of wonder;-not that he is deadl




OF TRISTRAM SHANDY.


149


" Monarchs and princes dance in the same
"ring with us.
"To die, is the great debt and tribute
" due unto nature: tombs and monuments,
"( which should perpetuate our memories,
"pay it themselves; and the proudest pyr"amid of them all, which Wealth and Sci"ence have erected, has lost its apex, and
"stands obtruncated in the traveller's hori"zon."    (My father found he got great
ease, and went on)-" Kingdoms and prov"inces, and towns and cities, have they not
"their periods 3 and when those principles
"and powers, which at first cemented and
"put them together, have performed their
"several evolutions, they fall back." —
Brother Shandy, said my uncle Toby, laying
down his pipe at the word evolutions,Revolutions, I meant, quoth my father;by Heaven! I meant revolutions, brother
Toby;-evolutions is nonsense.-'Tis not
nonsense, said my uncle Toby. —But is it
not nonsense to break the thread of such a
discourse upon such an occasion? cried my
father;-do not, dear Toby, continued he,
taking him by the hand, do not-do not, I
beseech thee, interrupt me at this crisis.
-   My uncle Toby put his pipe into his
mouth.
" Where is Troy and Mycenae, and Thebes
"and Delos, and Persepolis and Agrigen"tum 3" continued my father, taking up his
book of post-roads, which he had laid down."What is become, brother Toby, of Nineveh
"and Babylon, of Cyzicum and Mitylene?
"The fairest towns that ever the sun rose
"upon, are now no more; the names only
"are left; and those (for many of them are
"wrong spelt) are falling themselves by
"piecemeal to decay, and in length of time
"will be forgotten, and involved with every
"thing in a perpetual night. The world
"itself, brother Toby, must, -must come
"to an end.
"Returning out of Asia, when I sailed
"from AEgina towards Megara," (when can
this have been 1 thought my uncle Toby)
"I began to view the country round about.
" —2Egina was behind me, Megara was be"fore, Pyraus on the right hand, Corinth
" on the left.-What flourishing towns now
"prostrate upon the earth' Alas! alas!
"said I to myself, that man should disturb
"his soul for the loss of a child, when so


"much as this lies awfully buried in his
"presence!-Remember, said I to myself
"again,-remember thou art a man."
Now, my uncle Toby knew not that this
last paragraph was an extract of Servius
Sulpicius's consolatory letter to Tully:he had as little skill, honest man, in the
fragments, as he had in the whole pieces
of antiquity:-and as my father, whilst he
was concerned in the Turkey trade, had
been three or four different times in the Levant, in one of which he had staid a whole
year and an half at Zante, my uncle Toby
naturally concluded, that, in some one of
these periods, he had taken a trip across the
Archipelago into Asia; and that all this sailing affair, with iEgina behind, and Megara
before, and Pyreus on the right hand, &c.
&c. was nothing more than the true course
of my father's voyage and reflections.-'Twas certainly in his manner; and many
an undertaking critic would have built two
stories higher upon worse foundations.
And pray, brother, quoth my uncle Toby,
laying the end of his pipe upon my father's
hand in a kindly way of interruption,-but
waiting till he finished the account,-What
year of our Lord was this? -'Twas no
year of our Lord, replied my father.That's impossible, cried my uncle Toby.
-— Simpleton! said my father, -'twas
forty years before Christ was born.
My uncle Toby had but two things fbi
it; either to suppose his brother to be the
Wandering Jew, or that his misfortunes
had disordered his brain. —" May the Lord
" God of heaven and earth protect him and
"restore him!" said my uncle Toby, praying silently for my father, and with tears
in his eyes.My father placed the tears to a proper
account, and went on with his harangue
with great spirit."There is not such great odds, brother
"Toby, betwixt good and evil, as the world
"imagines."-(This way of setting oY, by
the bye, was not likely to cure my uncle
Toby's suspicions.) -- " Labor, sorrow,
"grief, sickness, want, and woe, are the
"sauces of life."-Much good may it Co
them,-said my uncle Toby to himself
"My son is dead!-so much the better,
" -'tis a shame, in such a tempest, to have
" but one anchor.
13*




150


LIFE AND OPINIONS


"But he is gone for ever from us!-be
it so.-He is got from under the hands of
"his barber before he was bald;-he is but
"risen from a feast before he was surfeit"ed;-from a banquet before he had got
"drunken.
"The Thracians wept when a child was
"born,"-(and we were very near it, quoth
my uncle Toby)-" and feasted and made
" merry when a man went out of the world;
"and with reason.-Death opens the gate
"of Fame, and shuts the gate of Envy after
" it:-it unlooses the chain of the captive,
"-and puts the bondsman's task into an" other man's hands.
"Show me the man, -who knows what
"life is, who dreads it,-and I'll show thee
"a prisoner who dreads his liberty."Is it not better, my dear brother Toby (for
mark,-our appetites are but diseases)-is
it not better not to hunger at all, than to
eat?-not to thirst, than to take physic to
cure it 
Is it not better to be fieed from cares
and agues,-from love and melancholy,and the other hot and cold fits of life, than,
like a galled traveller, who comes weary to
his inn, to be bound to begin his journey
afresh?
There is no terror, brother Toby, in its
looks, but what it borrows from groans and
convulsions, and the blowing of noses and
the wiping away of tears with the bottoms
of curtains, in a dying man's room. - Strip
it of these,-What is it? —'Tis better in
battle than in bed, said my uncle Toby.Take away its hearses, its mutes, and its
mourning,- its plumes, escutcheons, and
other mechanic aids, -What is it?Better in battle! continued my father, smiling, for he had absolutely forgot my brother
Bobby;-'tis terrible no way,-for consider,
brother Toby, —when We are, death is not;
-and when death is,-we are not.-  My
uncle Toby laid down his pipe, to consider
the proposition; my father's eloquence was
too rapid to stay for any man;-away it
went,-and hurried my uncle Toby's ideas
along with it.For this reason, continued my father,'tis
worthy to recollect, how little alteration, in
great men, the approaches of death have
made. —Vespnsian died in a jest upon his
close-stool;-Galba with a sentence;-Sep

timus Severus in a dispatch;-Tiberius in
dissimulation;-and Cesar Augustus in a
compliment.  -I hope'twas a sincere one,
-quoth my uncle Toby.'Twas to his wife,-said my father.
CHAP. I V.
--  AND lastly,-for of all the choice
anecdotes which history can produce of this
matter, continued my father, —this, like
the gilded dome which covers in the fabric,
-crowns all.-'Tis of Cornelius Gallus, the praetor,which, I dare say, brother Toby, you have
read.-  I dare say I have not, replied my
uncle.   He died, said my father, as * *
~* * ** * * *  * * * * * *.  And if it
was with his wife, said my uncle Toby,there could be no hurt in it. That's
more than I know,-replied my father.
CHAP. V.
MY mother was going very gingerly in
the dark along the passage which led to the
parlor, as my uncle Toby pronounced the
word wife.-'Tis a shrill penetrating sound
of itself, and Obadiah had helped it by leaving the door a little ajar, so that my mother
heard encligh of it to imagine herself the
subject of the conversation; so laying the
edge of her finger across her two lips,holding in her breath, and bending her head
a little downwards, with a twist of her neck
-(not towards the door, but from it, by
which means her ear was brought to the
chink)-she listened with all her powers:
-the listening slave, with the Goddess of
Silence at his back, could not have given
a finer thought for an intaglio.
In this attitude I am determined to let
her stand for five minutes,-till I bring up
the affairs of the kitchen (as Rapin does
those of the church) to the same period.
CHAP. VI.
THOUGH, in one sense, our family was
certainly a simple machine, as it consisted




OF TRISTRAM SHANDY.


151


oi' a few wheels; yet there was thus much
to be said for it, that these wheels were set
in motion by so many different springs, and
acted one upon the other from such a variety of strange principles and impulses,
— that though it was a simple machine, it
had all the honor and advantages of a complex one,-and a number of as odd movements within it, as ever were beheld in the
inside of a Dutch silk-mill.
Amongst these there was one, I am going
to speak, of, in which, perhaps, it Was not
altogether so singular as in many others:
and it was this, that whatever motion, debate, harangue, dialogue, project, or dissertation, was going forward in the parlor,
there was generally another at the same
time, and upon the same subject, running
parallel along with it in the kitchen.
Now to bring this about, whenever an
extraordinary message, or letter, was delivered in the parlor,-or a discourse suspended till a servant went out,-or the
lines of discontent were observed to hang
upon the brows of my father or mother;or, in short, when any thing was supposed
to be upon the tapis worth knowing or listening to,'twas the rule to leave the door,
not absolutely shut, but somewhat ajar,-as
it stands just now; —which, under covert
of the bad hinge (and that possibly might
be one of the many reasons why it was
never mended) it was not difficult to manage; by which means, in all these cases,
a passage was generally left, not indeed so
wide as the Dardanelles, but wide enough,
for all that, to carry on as much of this
windward trade as was sufficient to save
my father the trouble of governing his
house;-my mother at this moment stands
profiting by it.-Obadiah did the same
thing, as soon as he had left the letter upon
the table which brought the news of my
brother's death; so that before my father
had well got over his surprise, and entered
upon his harangue,-had Trim got upon his
legs, to speak his sentiments upon the subject.
A curious observer of nature, had he
been worth the inventory of all Job's stock,
-though, by the bye, your curious observers are seldom worth a groat,-would have
given the half of it to have heard Corporal
Trim and my father,, two orators so con

trasted by nature and education. haran i
I    I guing
over the same bier.
My father,-a. man of deep reading,prompt memory, with Caio,,and Seneca,
and Epictetus, at his fingers' ends:
The- Corporal,-with nothing-to remember;'of no deeper, reading than his
muster-rol 1,-or greater -names athis fingers' ends, than the contents ofit.
The oneproceeding from period to period, by metaphor and allusion, and strikin9
the fancy ashe went along (as men of wit
and fancy do) with the entertainment and
pleasantry of his pictures and images.
The, other, without wit or antithesis-, or'
point, or turn, this wayor that; but leaving
the images on one side,'and the pictures on
the other, going str'aight-forwards, as nature
could lead him, to the heart, 0 Trim!
would to Heaven thou hadst a better'historian!-Would tby historian had a better
pair of breeches!.-O ye critics! will nothing melt'you 1
CHAP. VII.
My young master: in London is dead!
said Obadiah.
A green satin'night-gown of rhy
mother's, which -had been twice scoured,
was the first idea which Obadiah's exclamation brought into Susannah's head.
Well might Locke write achapter upon
the imperfections of words.Theyf quoth
Susannah, we must all go into mourning.
But note a second time: the word
mourninLr. notwithstanding Susannah made
ulse'of it. herself,-failed also of doing its
office; it excited not one single idea, tinged
either with grey or black:-all was green.
-The'green satin nightgown hung there
still.
-O!'twill be the death of my,,poor mistress, criedSusannah. My mother's whole,
wardrobe followed.-What a possession!
her red damask -her' orange-tawny,-her
white and yellow lutestrings, her;bkow'rl
taffeta,-her bonie-laced caps, her'. bedgownsand comfortable under-pettico'ats. —'
Not a raa was left behind.-,' No    he
Z5;__s
will never look up again!" said. Susannah.
We had a fat, foolish scwlion;-m-my


trasted by nature and education, haranguing
over the same bier.
My father,-a man of deep reading,prompt memory,-with Cato, and Seneca,
and Epictetus, at his fingers' ends:The Corporal,-with nothing-to remember;-of no deeper, reading than his
muster-roll,-or greater names at his fingers' ends, than the contents of it.
The one proceeding from period to period, by metaphor and allusion, and striking
the fancy as he went along (as men of wit
and fancy do) with the entertainment and
pleasantry of his pictures and images.
The other, without wit or antithesis, or
point, or turn, this way or that; but leaving
the images on one side, and the pictures on
the other, going straight-forwards, as nature
could lead him, to the heart.-O Trim!
would to Heaven thou hadst a better historian!-Would thy historian had a better
pair of breeches!-O ye critics! will nothing melt you.
CHAP. VII.
MY young master in London is dead!
said Obadiah.
-  A   green satin night-gown of my
mother's, which had been twice scoured,
was the first idea which Obadiah's exclamation brought into Susannah's head.Well might Locke write a chapter upon
the imperfections of words.-Then' quoth
Susannah, we must all go into mourning.
- But note a second time: the word
mourning, notwithstanding Susannah made
use of it herself,-failed also of doing its
office; it excited not one single idea, tinged
either with grey or black:-all was green.
— The green satin night-gown hung there
still.
-O0!'twill be the death of my poor mistress, cried Susannah. —My mother's whole
wardrobe followed.-What a possession!
her red damask, —her orange-tawny,-her
white and yellow lutestrings,-her brown
taffeta,-her bone-laced caps, her bedgowns, and comfortable under-petticoats. —
Not a rag was left behind.-" No — she
"will never look up again!" said Susannah.
We had a fat, foolish scullion; —my




152                       LIFE AND OPINIONS
rather, I think, kept her for her simplicity; your Worships and Reverences, for any ten
-she had been all autumn struggling with pages together, take them where you will
a dropsy.-He is dead, said Obadiah;- in any other part of the work, shall sleep
he is certainly dead! —So am not I, said for it at-your ease.
the foolish scullion.                   I said, " We are not stocks and stones:"
-   Here is sad news, Trim, cried Su- -'tis very well. I should have added, nor
sannah, wiping her eyes as Trim stepp'd are we angels,-I wish we were;-but
into the kitchen;-Master Bobby is dead men clothed with bodies, and governed by
and buried!-the funeral was an interpola- our, imaginations:-and what a junketing
tion of Susannah's; we shall have all to go piece of work of it there is betwixt these
into mourning, said Susannah.         and our seven senses, especially some ot
I hope not, said Trim. —You hope not! them; for my own part, I own it, I am
cried Susannah earnestly.-The mourning ashamed to confess. Let it suffice to affirm
ran not in Trim's head, whatever it did in that of all the senses, the eye (for I absoSusannah's.-I hope,-said Trim, explain- lutely deny the touch, though most of youi
ing himself, I hope in God the news is not Barbati, I know, are for it) has the quickesl
true.-I heard the letter read with my commerce with the soul,-gives a smarter
own ears, answered Obadiah; and we shall stroke, and leaves something more inexhave a terrible piece of work of it in stub- pressible upon the fancy than words can
bing the Ox-moor.-Oh! he's dead, said either convey,-or sometimes get rid of.
Susannah,-As sure, said the scullion, as  I've gone a little about;-no matter,'tis
I'm alive.                            for health,-let us only carry it back in our
I lament for him from my heart and my mind, to the mortality of Trim's hat.soul, said Trim, fetching a sigh.-Poor crea- "Are we not here now,-and gone in a
ture!-poor boy!-poor gentleman!     "moment'1"-There was nothing in the
--  He was alive last Whitsuntide! said sentence;-'twas one of your self-evident
the coachman. -Whitsuntide! alas! cried truths we have the advantage of hearing
Trim, extending his right arm, and falling every day; and if Trim had not trusted
instantly into the same attitude in which more to his hat than his head,-he had
he read the sermon,-what is Whitsuntide, made nothing at all of it.
Jonathan, (for that was the coachman's  -   "Are we not here now?" continued
name) or Shrovetide, or any tide or time the Corporal; " and are we not —" (droppast to this? Are we not here now, contin- ping his hat plump upon the ground,-and
ued the Corporal (striking the end of his pausing, before he pronounced the word)stick perpendicularly upon the floor, so as " gone in a moment I" The descent of the
to give an idea of health and stability;)-  hat was as if a heavy lump of clay had been
and are we not-(dropping his hat upon the kneaded into the crown of it.-Nothing
ground) gone! in a moment!-'Twas infi- could have expressed the sentiment of mornitely striking! Susannah burst into a flood tality, of which it was the type and foreof tears.-We are not stocks and stones. — runner, like it;-his hand seemed to vanish
Jonathan, Obadiah, the cook-maid, all melt- from under it;-it fell dead;-the Corpoed.-The foolish fat scullion herself, who ral's eye fixed upon it as upon a corpse;was scouring a fish-kettle upon her knees, and Susannah burst into a flood of tears.
was rous'd with it.-The whole kitchen   Now,-ten thousand, and ten thousand
crowded about the Corporal.          times ten thousand (for matter and motion
Now, as I perceive plainly, that the are infinite) are the ways by which a hat
preservation of our constitution in church may be dropped upon the ground without
and state,-and possibly the preservation any effect.-Had he flung it, or thrown it,
of the whole world,-or, what is the same or cast it, or skimmed it, or squirted it, or
thing, the distribution and balance of its let it slip or fall in any possible direction
property and power, may, in time to come, under Heaven,-or in the best direction,
depend greatly upon the right understand- that could be given to it!-had he dropped
ing of this stroke of the Corporal's elo- it like a goose-like a puppy,-like an ass;
quence,-I do demand your attention:-  -or in doing it, or even after he had done




OF TRISTRAM SHANDY.


153


it, had he looked like a fool,-like a ninny,
-like a nincompoop,-it had fail'd, and
the effect upon the heart had been lost.
Ye who govern this mighty world and
Its mighty concerns with the engines of
eloquence;-who heat it, and cool it, and
melt it, and mollify it,-and then harden
it again to your purpose: —
Ye who wind and turn the passions with
this great windlass; and, having done it,
lead the owners of them whither ye think
meet:
Ye, lastly, who drive-; and why not 1Ye also who are driven like turkeys to
market, with a stick and a red clout,meditate,-meditate, I beseech you, upon
Trim's hat.
CHAP. VIII.
STAY,-I have a small account to settle
with the reader before Trim can go on with
his harangue.-It shall be done in two
minutes.
Amongst many other book-debts, all of
which I shall discharge in due time,-I
own myself a debtor to the world for two
items, a chapter upon chamber-maids and
button-holes: which, in the former part of
my work, I promised and fully intended
to pay off this year: but some of your
Worships and Reverences telling me that
the two subjects, especially so connected
together, might endanger the morals of the
world,-I pray the chapter upon chambermaids' and button-holes may be forgiven
me,-and that they will accept of the last
chapter in lieu of it; which is nothing,
an't please your Reverences, but a chapter of chamber-maids, green gowns, and
old hats.
Trim took his hat off the ground,-put
it upon his head,-and then went on with
his oration upon death, in manner and form
follow ing:CHAP. IX.
-   To us, Jonathan, who know not what
want or care is,-who live here in the serU


vice of two of the best of masters-(bating,
in my own case, his majesty King William
the Third, whom I had the honor to serve
both in Ireland and Flanders)-I own it;
that from Whitsuntide to within three weeks
of Christmas, -'tis not long,-'tis like nothing;-but to those, Jonathan, who know
what death is, and what havoc and destruc.
tion he can make, before a man can well wheel
about,-'tis like a whole age,-O Jonathan!
—'twould make a good-natured man's heart
bleed, to consider, continued the Corporal,
(standing perpendicularly) how low many
a brave and upright fellow has been laid
since that time!-And trust me, Susy, added the Corporal, turning to Susannah, whose
eyes were swimming in water,- before
that time comes round again, -many a
bright eye will be dim. --   Susannah
placed it to the right side of the page;she wept, -but she court'sied too. —Are
we not, continued Trim, looking still at
Susannah, —are we not like a flower of
the field -- A tear of pride stole in betwixt every two tears of humiliation-else
no tongue could have described Susannah's
affliction.-Is not all flesh grass?-'Tis clay,
-'tis-dirt. -  They all looked directly
at the scullion;-the scullion had just been
scouring a fish-kettle.-It was not fair.-What is the finest face that ever man
looked at!-I could hear Trim talk so for
ever, cried Susannah,-what is it!-(Susannah laid her hand upon Trim's shoulder)
-but corruption! —Susannah took it off.
Now I love you for this;-and'tis this
delicious mixture within you which makes
you dear creatures what you are;-and he
who hates you for it —all I can say of
the matter is,-1rhat he has either a pumpkin for his head,-or a pippin for his heart;
-and whenever he is dissected'twill te
found so.
CHAP. X.
WHETHER Susannah by taking her hana
too suddenly from off the Corporal's shoulder, (by the whisking about of her passions)
-broke a little the chain of his reflections,Or whether the Corporal began tc ne




154


LIFE AND OPINIONS


suspicious he had got into the Doctor's
quarters, and was talking more like the
Chaplain than himself,
Or whether, -      ---
Or whether,-for in all such cases a
man of invention and parts may, with
pleasure, fill a couple of pages with suppositions,-which of all these was the cause,
let the curious physiologist, or the curious
any body, determine,-'tis certain, at least,
the Corporal went on thus with his harangue.For my own part, I declare it, that out
of doors, I value not death at all:- not
this.. added the Corporal, snapping
his fingers;-but with an air which no
one but the Corporal could have given to
the sentiment. -In battle I value death
not this... and let him not take me
cowardly, like poor Joe Gibbons, in scouring his gun. —What is he?-A pull of a
trigger;-a push of a bayonet an inch this
way or that,-makes the difference. Look
along the line-to the right,-see! Jack's
down! Well, -'tis worth a regiment of
horse to him.-No;-'tis Dick.-Then
Jack's no worse.-Never mind which;we pass on,-in hot pursuit; the wound
itself which brings him is not felt,-the
best way is to stand up to him;-the man
who flies, is in ten times more danger than
the man who marches up into his jaws.
-I've looked him, added the Corporal, an
hundred times in the face,-and know what
he is. He's nothing, Obadiah, at all in the
field.- But he's very frightful in a house,
quoth Obadiah.-I never mind it myself,
said Jonathan, upon a coach-box. -  It
must, in my opinion, be most natural in
bed, replied Susannah, -  And could I
escape him by creeping into the worst
calf's skin that ever was made into a knapsack, I would do it there,-said Trim;but that is nature.
--   Nature is nature, said Jonathan.
And that is the reason, cried Susannah, I so much pity my mistress. -She
will never get the better of it.-Now I
pity the Captain the most of any one in
the family, answered Trim.-Madam will
get ease of h.eart in weeping,-and the
Squire in talking about it,-but my poor


master will keep it all in silence to himself.-I shall hear him sigh in his bed for
a whole month together, as he did for
Lieutenant Le Fevre. An' please your
Honor, do not sigh so piteously, I would
say to him as I lay beside him.-I cannot
help it, Trim, my master would say;-tis
so melancholy an accident,-I cannot get
it off my heart.- Your Honor fears not
death yourself.-I hope, Trim, I fear
nothing, he would say, but the doing a
wrong thing.-WVell, he would add, whatever betides, I will take care of Le Fevre's
boy.-And with that, like a quieting draught,
his Honor would fall asleep.
I like to hear Trim's stories about the
Captain, said Susannah.  He is a kindlyhearted gentleman, said Obadiah, as ever
lived.  -Ay, and as brave a one too, said the
Corporal, as ever stept before a platoon.There never was a better officer in the
King's army,-or a better man in God's
world; for he would march up to the mouth
of a cannon, though he saw the lighted match
at the very touch-hole: and yet, for all that,
he has a heart as soft as a child for other
people:-he would not hurt a chicken.  I
would sooner, quoth Jonathan, drive such a
gentleman for seven pounds a year,-than
some for eight. —-Thank thee, Jonathan!
for thy twenty shillings,-as much, Jonathan, said the Corporal, shaking him by the
hand, as if thou hadst put the money into
my own pocket.-I would serve him to the
day of my death out of love. He is a friend
and a brother to me;-and could I be sure
my poor brother Tom was dead,-continued
the Corporal, taking out his handkerchief,
-was I worth ten thousand pounds, I would
leave every shilling of it to the Captain.Trim could not refrain from tears at this
testamentary proof he gave of his affection
to his master. The whole kitchen was
affected.-Do tell us the story of the
poor Lieutenant, said Susannah.-With all
my heart, answered the Corporal.
Susannah, the cook, Jonathan, Obadiah,
and Corporal Trim, formed a circle about
the fire; and as soon as the scullion had
shut the kitchen-door,-the Corporal began,




OF TRISTRAM SHANDY.                             155
CHAP. XI.                  -Pray, Madam, in what street does the
lady live who would net have done the
I AM a Turk if I had not as much forgot same?
my mother, as if Nature had plastered me  From the strange mode of Cornelius's
up, and set me down naked upon the banks death, my father had made a transition to
of the river Nile, without one.-Your most that of Socrates, and was giving my uncle
obedient servant, Madam,-I've cost you a Toby an abstract of his pleading before his
great deal of trouble.-I wish it may an- judges; —'twas irresistible: -- not the
swer;-but you have left a crack in my oration of Socrates,-but my father's temphack;-and here's a great piece fallen off tation to it.-He had wrote the *Life of
here before:-and what must I do with Socrates himself the year before he left off
this foot — I shall never reach England trade; which, I fear, was the means of
with it.                               hastening him out of it;-so that no one
For my own part, I never wonder at any was able to set out with so full a sail, and
thing;-and so often has my judgment de- in so swelling a tide of heroic loftiness upon
ceived me in my life, that I always suspect the occasion, as my father was. Not a
it, right or wrong;-at least, I am seldom period in Socrates's oration which closed
hot upon cold subjects. For all this, I rev- with a shorter word than transmigration, or
erence truth as much as any body; and annihilation,-or a worse thought in the
when it has slipped us, if a man will but middle of it than to be-or not to be,-the
take me by the hand, and go quietly and entering upon a new and untried state of
search for it, as for a thing we have both things,-or upon a long, a profound and
lost, and cal neither of us do well without, peaceful sleep, without dreams, without
-I'll go to the world's end with him.-  disturbance!-That we and our children
But I hate disputes,-and therefore (bating were born to die,-but neither of us born
religious points, or such as touch society) I to be slaves.-No, there JI mistake; that
would almost subscribe to any thing which was part of Eleazer's oration, as recorded
does not choke me in the first passage, by Josephus (de Bell. Judaic.) -Eleazer
rather than be drawn into one.-But I can- owns he had it from the philosophers of Innot bear suffocation;-and bad smells worst dia. In all likelihood, Alexander the Great,
of all.-For which reasons, I resolved from in his irruption into India, after he had
the beginning, that if ever the army of overrun Persia, amongst the many things
martyrs was to be augmented,-or a new he stole,-stole that sentiment also; by
one raised,-I would have no hand in it, one which means it was carried, if not all the
way or t'other.                        way by himself (for we all know he died at
Babylon) at least by some of his marauders,
into Greece,-from Greece it got to Rome,
firom Rome to France,-and from France
CHAP. XII.
to England.-So things come round:-BUT-to return to my mother.           By land-carriage; I can conceive no
My uncle Toby's opinion, Madam, " That other way."there could be no harm in Cornelius Gal-  By water, the sentiment might easily
"lus, the Roman prtetor's lying with his have come down the Ganges, into the Si" wife;"-or rather the last word of that nus Gangeticus, or Bay of Bengal, and so
opinion,-(for it was all my mother heard into tLe Indian Sea; and following the
of it) caught hold of her by. the weak course of trade (the way from India by the
part of the whole sex; -you shall not mis- Cape of Good Hope being then unknown)
take me,-I mean her curiosity;-she in- might be carried, with other drugs and
stantly concluded herself the subject of spices, up the Red Sea to Joddah, the port
the conversation, and with that prepos- of Mecca, or else to Tor'or Suez, towns at
session upon her fancy, you will readily
conceive, every word my father said was  * This book my father would never consent to pub.
accommodated either to herself or her lish;'tis in manuscript, with some other tracts of his,
in the family; all, or most of which, will be -rinted
family-concerns.                       in due time.




156


LIFE AND OPINIONS


the bottom of the Gulf; and from thence
by caravans to Coptos, but three days' journey distant, so down the Nile directly to
Alexandria, where the sentiment would be
landed at the very foot of the great staircase of the Alexandrian library;-and from
that storehouse it would be-fetched.-Bless
me! what a trade was driven by the learned
in those days!
CHAP. XIII.
-Now my father had a way, a little like
that of Job's (in case there ever was such
a man)-if not, there's an end of the matter.Though, by the bye, because your learned
men find some difficulty in fixing the precise era in which so great a man lived;whether, for instance, before or after the
patriarchs, &c.-to vote, therefore, that he
never lived at all, is a little cruel;-'tis not
doing as they would be done by.-Happen
that as it may,-my father, I say, had a
way, when things went extremely wrong
with him, especially upon the first sally of
his impatience-of wondering why he was
begot;-wishing himself dead;-sometimes
worse:-and when the provocation ran
high, and grief touched his lips with more
than ordinary powers,-Sir, you scarce could
have distinguished him from Socrates himself.-Every word would breathe sentiments
of a soul disdaining life, and careless about
all its issues; for which reason, though my
mother was a woman of no deep reading,
yet the abstract of Socrates's oration, which
my father was giving my uncle Toby, was
not altogether new to her.-She listened
to it with composed intelligence, and would
have done so to the end of the chapter,
had not my father plunged (which he had
no occasion to have done) into that part of
the uleading where the great philosopher
reckons up his connexions, his alliances,
and cnildren; but renounces a security to
be so won, by working upon the passions
of his judges.-"I have friends,-I have
"relations,- I have three desolate chil"dren,"-says Socrates.Then, cried my mother, opening the
door,-you have one more, Mr. Shandy,
than I know of.


--  By Heaven! I have one less,-sald
my father, getting up and walking oat of
the room.
CHAP. XIV.
-   THEY are Socrates's children, said
my uncle Toby. —  He has been dead a
hundred years ago, replied my mother.
My uncle Toby was no chronologer;so not caring to advance one step but upon
safe ground, he laid down his pipe delibe
rately upon the table, and rising up, and
taking my mother most kindly by the hand,
without saying another word, either good
or bad, to her, he led her out after my
father, that he might finish the eclaircisse
ment himself.
CHAP. XV.
HAD this volume been a farce, which,
unless every one's Life and Opinions are to
be looked upon as a farce as well as mine,
I see no reason to suppose,-the last chapter, Sir, had finished the first act of it; and
then this chapter must have set off thus:
Ptr..r..r..ing, - twing, - twang, - prut,
-trut;-'tis a cursed bad fiddle.-Do you
know whether my fiddle's in tune or no 1trut..prut..-They should be fifths.-'Tis
wickedly strung, - tr...a.e.i.o.u.-twang. -
The bridge is a mile too high, and the
sound-post absolutely down,-else,-trut..
prut.-Hark!'tis not so bad a tone.-Did.
dle diddle, diddle diddle, diddle diddle, dum.
There is nothing in playing before good
judges; —but there's a man there,-no,not him with the bundle under his arm,the grave man in black.-'Sdeath! not the
gentleman with the sword on.-Sir, I had
rather play a Caprichio to Calliope herself,
than draw my bow across my fiddle before
that very man; and yet I'll stake my Cremona to a Jew's trump, which is the greatest musical odds that ever were laid, that I
will this moment stop three hundred and
fifty leagues out of tune upon my fiddle,
without punishing one single nerve that
belongs to him.-Twaddle diddle,-tweddle




OF TRISTRAM      SHANDY.                        157
diddle, — twiddle diddle,-twoddle diddle,-  him, that'twas pretty near the same torture
twuddle diddle;-prut-trut,-krish, —krash, to him.
-krush.-I've undone you, Sir,-but you    In about three years, or sompthling more,
see he's no worse;-and was Apollo to my father had got advanced almost into the
take his fiddle] after me, he can make him middle of his work.-Like all other writers,
no better.                             he met with disappointments.-He imagined
Diddle diddle, diddle diddle, diddle diddle, he should be able to bring whatever he had
-hum,-dum,-drum.                       to say, into so small a compass, that when
Your Worships and your Reverences love it was finished and bound, it might be rolled
music,-and God has made you all with good up in my mother's housewife. - Matter
ears,-and some of you play delightfully grows under our hands.-Let no man say,
yourselves;-trut-prut,-prut-trut.     -" Come,-I'll write a duodecimo."
O! there is-whom I could sit and hear  My father gave himself up to it, howwhol, days,-whose talents lie in making ever, with the most painful diligence, proo
whit he fiddles to be felt;-who inspires ceeding step by step in every line, with the
me with his joys and hopes, and puts the same kind of caution and circumspection
most hidden springs of my heart into mo- (though I cannot say upon quite so religious
tion. —-If you would borrow five guineas a principle) as was used by John de la Casse,
of me, Sir,-which is generally ten guineas the Lord Archbishop of Benevento, in commore than I have to spare,-or you, Messrs. posing his Galatea; in which his Grace of
Apothecary and Taylor, want your bills Benevento spent near forty years of his
paid,-that's your time.                life; and, when the thing came out, it was
not of above half the size or thickness of a
_ —<~ — ~         Rider's Almanac.-How     the holy man
managed the affair, unless he spent the
CHAP.~ XVI.         greatest part of his time in combing his
whiskers, or playing at primero with his
THE first thing which entered my father's chaplain,-would pose any mortal not let
head, after affairs were a little settled in into the true secret;-and therefore'tis
the family, and Susannah had got possession worth explaining to the world, was it only
of my mother's green satin night-gown.- for the encouragement of those few in it,
was to sit down coolly, after the example who write not so much to be fed,-as to be
of Xenophon, and write a Tristrapcedia, or famous.
system of education for me; collecting first  I own, had John de la Casse, the Archfor that purpose his own scattered thoughts, bishop of Benevento, for whose memory
counsels, and notions; and binding them (notwithstanding his Galatea) I retain the
together, so as to form an INSTITUTE for the highest veneration,-had he been, Sir, a slengovernment of my childhood and adoles- der clerk,-of dull wit, slow parts,-costive
cence.-I was my father's last stake,-he head, and so forth, -he and his Galatea
nad lost my brother Bobby entirely,-he might have jogged on together to the age
nad lost, by his own computation, full three- of Methuselah for me;-the phenomenon
fourths of me,-thlat is, he had been unfor- had not been worth a parenthesis.tunate in his three first great casts for me:  But the reverse of this was the truths
-my geniture, nose, and name!-there was John de la Casse was a genius of fine parts
but this one left; and accordingly my father and fertile fancy; and yet with all these
gave himself up to it with as much devo- great advantages of nature, which should
tion as ever my uncle Toby had done to his have pricked him forwards with his Galatea,
doctrine of projectiles.-The difference be- he lay under an impuissance at the same
tween them was, that my uncle Toby drew time of advancing above a line and a half
his whole knowledge of projectiles from in the compass of a whole summer's day.
Nicholas Tartaglia.-My father spun his, This disability in his Grace arose from an
every thread of it, out of his own brain,- opinion he was afflicted with;- which
or had so reeled and cross-twisted what all opinion was this,-viz. That whenever *',ther spinners and spinsters had spun before Christian was writing a book (not for his




14




158


LIFE AN~D OPINIO(NS


private amusement, but) where his intent a farrago of the clack of nurses, and of the
and purpose was, bond fide, to print and nonsense of the old women (of both sexes)
publish it to the world,-his first thoughts throughout the kingdom.
were always the temptations of the evil  This is the best account I am determined
one.-This was the state of ordinary wri- to give of the slow progress my father
ters: but when a personage in venerable made in his Tristrapcedia; at which (as I
character and high station, either in church said) he was three years, and something
or state, once turned author,-hle maintain- more, indefatigably at work, and, at last,
ed, that from the very moment he took pen had scarce completed, by his own reckoning,
in hand,-all the Devils in hell broke out one half of his undertaking; the misfortune
of their holes to cajole him.-'Twas Term- was, that I was all that time totally neglecttime with them;-every thought, first and. ed and abandoned to my mother; and, what
last, was captious; —howw specious and good was almost as bad, by the very delay, th&
soever,-'twas all one;-in whatever form first part of the work, upon which my father
or color it presented itself to the imagina- had spent the most of his pains, was rention,-'twas still a stroke of one or other dered entirely useless;-every day a page
of'em levell'd at him, and was to be fenced or two became of no consequence.ol: -So that the life of a writer, whatever  Certainly it was ordained as a scourge
he might fancy to the contrary, was not so upon the pride of human wisdom, That the
much a sttte of composition, as a state of wisest' of us all should thus outwit ourwarfare; and his probation in it, precisely selves, and eternally forego our purposes
that of any other man militant upon earth, in the intemperate act of pursuing them.
-both depending alike, not half so much  In short, my father was so long in all his,upon the degrees of his wit,-as his resist- acts of resistance,-or, in other words, —
ance.                                 lie advanced so very slow with his work,
My father was hugely pleased with this and I began to live and get forwards at
theory of John de la Casse, Archbishop of such a rate, that if an event had not hapBenevento; and (had it not cramped him pened,-which, when we get to it, if it can
i little in his creed) I believe would have be told with decency, shall not be concealed
given ten of the best acres in the Shandy a moment from the reader,-I verily believe,
estate to have been the broacher of it.-  I had put by my father, and left him drawing
How far my father actually believed in the a sun-dial, for no better purpose than to be
Devil, will be seen, when I come to speak buried under ground.
of my father's religious notions, in the progress of this work:'tis enough to say here,
as he could not have the honor of it, in the
literal sense of the doctrine,-he took up          CHAP. XVII.
with the allegory of it; and would often
say, especially when his pen was a little  -'TWAS nothing:-I did not lose two
retrograde, there was as much good mean- drops of blood by it:-'twas not worth calling, truth, and knowledge, couched under ing in a surgeon had he lived next door to
the veil of John de la Casse's parabolical us.-Thousands suffer by choice, what I did
representation,-as was to be found in any by accident.-Doctor Slop made ten times
one poetic fiction or mystic record of an- more of it than there was occasion.-Some
tiquity.-Prejudice of education, he would men rise by the art of hanging great
say, is the Devil,-and the multitudes of weights upon small wires:-and I am this
Lhem which we suck in with our mother's day (August the 10th, 1761) paying part
mnilk, are the Devil and all. -We are haunt- of the price of this man's reputation.-O,
*(d with them, brother Toby, in all our lucu-'twould provoke a stone to see'how things
orations and researches; anta was a man are carried on in this world!-The chamberbtool enough to submit tcmely to what they maid had left no***'* *** under the bed.
obtruded upon him,r-what would his book    Cannot you contrive, master, quoth
el' Nothing;-Ihe would add, throwing his Susanmah, lifting up the sash with one
w.n away with a vengeance;-nothing but hand, as she spoke, and helping me 1r into




OF TRISTRAM~ SIifr~TIANDY


159


the window-seat with the other,-cannotl It was the joy of Trim's heart; nor was
you manage, my dear, for a single time, to his fertile head ever at a loss for expedients
***** *** **  *-** S***               in doing it, to supply my uncle Toby, in his
I was five years old.-Susannah did not campaigns, with whatever his fancy called
consider that nothing was well hung in our for: had it been his last crown, he would
fimily;-so, slap came the sash down like have sat down and hammered it into a
lightning upon us.-Nothing is left,-   paderero, to have prevented a single wish
cried Susannah,-nothing is left,-for me, in his master.-The Corporal had already,
blt to run my country. —              -what with cutting off the ends of my
My uncle Toby's house was a much uncle Toby's spouts,-hacking and chisselkinder sanctuary; and so Susannah fled ing up the sides of his leaden gutters,to it.                                melting down his pewter shaving-bason;
-and going at last, like Lewis the Four
teenth, on to the top of the church for spare
CHAP. XVIII.              ends, &c.-he had that very campaign
brought no less than eight new battering
WHEN Susannah told the Corporal the cannons, besides three demi-culverins, into
misadventure of the sash, with all the cir- the field. My uncle Toby's demand for
cumlstances which attended the murder of two more pieces for the redoubt, had set
me,-(as she called it)-the blood forsook the Corporal at work again; and no better
his cheeks;-all accessaries in murder being resource offering, he had taken the two
principals,-Trim's conscience told him he leaden weights from the nursery-window;
was as much to blame as Susannah;-and and as the sash-pulleys, when the lead was
if the doctrine had been true, my uncle gone, were of no kind of use, he had taken
Toby had as much of the bloodshed to an- them away also, to make a couple of wheels
swer for to Heaven as either of'em;-so for one of their carriages.


that neither reason nor instinct, separate
nor together, could possibly have guided
Susannah's steps to so proper an asylum.It is in vain to leave this to the reader's
imagination:-to form any kind of hypothesis that will render these propositions
feasible, he must cudgel his brains sore;
and to do it without,-he must have such
brains as no reader ever had before him.Why should I put them either to trial or to
torture?-'Tis my own affair: I'll explain
it myself.
CHAP. XIX.'TIS a pity, Trim, said my uncle Toby,
resting with his hIna upon the Corporal's
shoulder, as they both stood surveying their
works,-that we have not a couple of fieldpieces to mount in the gorge of that new
redoubt;-'twould secure the lines all along
thfre, and make the attack on that side
quite complete.-Get me a couple cast,
Trim.
Your Honor shall have them, replied
Trim, before to-morrow morning. —


He had dismantled every sash-window
in my uncle Toby's house long before, in
the very same way,-though not always in
the same order; for sometimes the pulleys
had been wanted, and not the lead,-so than
he began with the pulleys; and the pul:sy
being picked out, then the lead became use-.
less;-and so the lead went to pot too.
--  A great MORAL might be picked
handsomely out of this, but I have not
time;-'tis enough to say, Wherevej the
demolition began,'twas equally fatal to the
sash-window.
CHAP. XX.
THE Corporal had not taken his measul es
so badly in this stroke of artilleryship, but
that he might have kept the matter entirely to himself, and left Susannah to have
sustained the whole weight of the attack
as she could:-true courage is not content
with coming off so.-The Corporal, whether as general or comptroller of the train,
-'twas no matter,-had done that, without
which, as he imagined, the misfortune con,




160


LIFE AND OPINIONS


never have happened,-at least in Susanrnah's hands.-How  would your Honors
have behaved?-He determined at once,
not to take shelter behind Susannah —but
to give it, and, with this resolution upon
his mind, he marched upright into the parkor, to lay the whole manoeuvre before my
uncle Toby.
My uncle Toby had just then been giving
Yorick an account of the battle of Steinkirk, and-of the strange conduct of Count
Solnes, in ordering the foot to halt, and
the horse to march where it could not act;
which was directly contrary to the king's
cornmand, and proved the loss of the day.
There are incidents in some families so
pat to the purpose of what is going to follow,-they are scarce exceeded by the invention of a dramatic writer,-I mean of
ancient days.Trim, by the help of his fore-finger laid
flat upon the table, and the edge of his
hand striking across it at right angles,
made a shift to tell his story so that priests
and virgins might have listened to it;-and
the story being told, the dialogue went on
as follows:CHAP. XXI.


the thumb of his left, and counting round
his hand,-there was Cutts's,-Mackay's,
-Angus's,-Graham's,-and Leven's, all
cut to pieces;-and so had the English
life-guards, too, had it not been for some
regiments upon the right, who marciled up
boldly to their relief, and received the enemy's fire in their faces, before any one of
their own platoons discharged a musket.They'll go to Heaven for it, added Trim.
--  Trim is right, said my uncle Toby,
nodding to Yorick;-he's perfectly right.
-- What signified his marching the horse,
continued the Corporal, where the ground
was so strait, and the French had such a
nation of hedges, and copses, and ditches,
and fell'd trees laid this way and that, to
cover them (as they always have.)-Count
Solmes should have sent us; —we would
have fired muzzle to muzzle with them for
their lives.-There was nothing to be done
for the horse:-he had his foot shot off,
however, for his pains, continued the Corporal, the very next campaign at Landen.
--  Poor Trim got his wound there, quoth
my uncle Toby.-'Twas owing, an
please your Honor, entirely to Count
Solmes; had he drubbed them soundly at
Steinkirk, they would not have fought us
at Landen. —Possibly not, Trim, said my
uncle Toby; though, if they have the ad
vantage of a wood, or you give them a moment's time to intrench themselves, they
are a nation which will pop and pop foi
ever at you. There is no way but to march
coolly up to them,-receive their fire, and
fall in upon them, pell-mell;  Ding-dong,
added Trim;;-  Horse and foot, said my
uncle Toby;-   Helter-skelter, said Trim;
-   Right and left, cried my uncle Toby.
— Blood an' ounds! shouted the Corporal:-the battle raged; Yorick drew his
chair a little to one side. for safety; and.
after a moment's pause, my uncle Toby,
sinking his voice a note, resumed the discourse as follows:- 


-   I WOULD be picqueted to death,
cried the Corporal, as he concluded Susannah's story, before I would suffer the woman
to come to any harm:-'twas my fault, an'
please your Honor,-not her's.
Corporal Trim, replied my uncle Toby,
putting on his hat, which lay upon the
table, if any thing can be said to be a fault,
when the service absolutely requires it
should be done,'tis I certainly who deserve
the blame; you obeyed your orders.
Had Count Solmes, Trim, done the same
at the battle of Steinkirk, said Yorick,
drolling a little upon the Corporal, who had
been run over by a dragoon in the retreat,
- -he had saved thee  Saved! cried Trim,
interrupting Yorick, and finishing the sentence for him after his own fashion,-he
had saved. five battalions, and please your
Reverence, every soul of them.-There
wvas Cutts's continued the Corporal, clapwrng the fore-finger of his right-hand upon


CHAP. XXII.
KINrG William, said my uncle Toby, addressing himself to Yorick, was so terribly
provoked at Count Solmes for disobeying




OF TRISTRAM SHANDY.


161


tus orders, that he would not suffer him to
come into his presence for many months
atter.   I fear, answered Yorick, the
Squire will be as much provoked at the
Corporal, as the King at the Count.-But'twould be singularly hard in this case,
continued he, if Corporal Trim, who has
behaved so diametrically opposite to Count
Solmes, should have the fate to be rewarded
with the same disgrace:-too often, in this
world, do things take that train.- I would
spring a mine, cried my uncle Toby, rising
up, and blow up my fortifications, and my
house with them, and we-would perish under their ruins, ere I would stand by and
see it.- Trim directed a slight, but a
grateful bow towards his master,-and so
the chapter ends.
CHAP. XXIII.
-THEN, Yorick, replied my uncle Toby,
you and I will lead the way abreast:and do you, Corporal, follow a few paces behind us.   And Susannah, an' please your
Honor, said Trim, shall be put in the rear.'Twas an excellent disposition, and in this
order, without either drums beating, or
colors flying, they marched slowly from my
uncle Toby's house to Shandy-hall.
I wish, said Trim, as they entered
the door, instead of the sash-weights, I had
cut off the church-spout, as I once thought
to have done.  You have cut off spouts
enow, replied Yorick.
CHAP. XXIV.
As many pictures as have been given of
my father, how like him soever in different
airs and attitudes,-not one, or all of them,
can ever help the reader to any kind of
preconception of how my father would
think, speak, or act, upon any untried occasion or occurrence of life. —There was
that infinitude of oddities in him, and of
chances along with it, by which handle he
would take a thing,-it baffled, Sir, all calculations.-The truth was, his road lay so
very far on one side, from that wherein
V


most men travelled, that every object before him presented a face and section of
itself to his eye, altogether different from
the plan and elevation of it seen by the rest
of mankind.-In other words,'twas a dif
ferent object, and, in course, was differently
considered.
This is the true reason that my dear
Jenny and I, as well as all the world besides us, have such eternal squabbles about
nothing.-She looks at her outside;-I, at
her in.-How is it possible we should agree
about her value?
CHAP. XXV.'Tis a point settled,-and I mention it
for the comfort of Confucius*, who is apt
to get entangled in telling a plain story,that provided he keeps along the line of his
story, he may go backwards and forwards
as he will,'tis still held to be no digression.
This being premised, I take the benefit
of the act of going backwards myself.
CHAP. XXVI.
FIFTY thousand pannier loads of Devils
-(not of the Archbishop of Benevento's,I mean of Rabelais's Devils) with their tails
chopped off by their rumps, could not have
made so diabolical a scream of it as I didwhen the accident befell me: it summoned
up my mother instantly into the nursery;so that Susannah had but just time to make
her escape down the back stairs, as my
mother came up the fore.
Now, though I was old enough to have
told the story myself,-and young enough,
I hope, to have done it without malignity,
-yet Susannah, in passing by the kitchen,
for fear of accidents, had left it in short
hand with the cook,-the cook had told it;
with a commentary, to Jonathan; and Jona
than to Obadian; so that, by the time my
father had rung the bell half a dozen times,


* Mr. Shandy is supposed,o mean **ti *  ""***
Esq. member for *****,-and not the ~ tinese fagia
lator.
1 t




162


LIFE AND OPINIONS


to know what was the matter above,-was turning to the section,-de sede vel suublecte
Obadiah enabled to give him a particular circumcisionis, -for he had brought up
account of it, just as it had happened. —   Spenser de Legibus Hebreorum RitualiI thought as much, said my father, tucking bus,-and 1Maimonides, in order to confront
up his night-gown,-and so walked up and examine us altogether;stairs.                                   — If it be but right done, quoth he,One would imagine from this-(though Only tell us, cried my mother, interrupt.
for my own part I somewhat question it)-  ing him, what herbs?-For that, replied
that my father, before that time, had actu- my father, you must send for Dr. Slop.
ally wrote that remarkable chapter in the  My mother went down, and my father
Tristra-pcedia, which to me is the most went on, reading the section as follows:
original and entertaining one in the whole *  *  *    *     *     *    *     *
book,-and that is the chapter upon sash- *  *   *     *     *     *    *     *
windows, with a bitter Philippic at the end * *  --- Very well,-said my facher,
of it, upon the forgetfulness of chamber- * *  *   *     *     *     *     *
maids. I have but two reasons for thinking *  *  *    *     *     *     *    *
otherwise.                              *  *    *-nay, if it has that convenience,
First, had the matter been taken into -and so without stopping a moment to
consideration before the event happened, settle it first in his mind, whether the
my father certainly would',ave nailed up Jews had it from  the Egyptians, or the
the sash-window for good' an' all; which, Egyptians from the Jews,-he rose up, and
considering with what difficulty he com- rubbing his forehead two or three times
posed books, he might have done with ten across with the palm of his hand, in the
times less trouble than he could have wrote manner we rub out the footsteps of care,
the chapter.  This argument, I foresee, when evil has trod lighter upon us than we
holds good against his writing a chapter, foreboded,-he shut the book, and walked
even after the event; but'tis obviated un- down stairs.  Nay, said he, mentioning
der the second reason, which I have the the name of a different great nation upon
honor to offer to the world in support of my every step as he set his foot upon it,-if the
opinion, that my father did not write the Egyptians,-the Syrians,-the Phoenicians,
chapter upon sash-windows and chamber- -the Arabians,-the Cappadocians,-if the
pots at the time supposed,-and it is this:-  Colchi and Troglodytes did it,-if Solon
-That, in order to render the Tristra- and Pythagoras submitted,-what is Trispeadia complete, I wrote the chapter my- tram?-Who am I, that I should fret or
self.                                  fume one moment about the matter 
CHAP. XXVII.                           CHAP. XXVIII.
MY father put on his spectacles,-looked,  DEAR Yorick, said my father, smiling
— took them off,-put them into the case, (for Yorick had broke his rank with my
— all in less than a statutable minute; and, uncle Toby, in coming through the narrow
without opening his lips, turned about and entry, and so had stept first into the parlor)
walked precipitately down stairs. My mo- this Tristram of ours, I find, comes very
tner imagined he had stepped down for lint hardly by all his religious rites. Never
and basilicon: but seeing him return with was the son of Jew, Christian, Turk, o
a couple of folios under his arm, and Oba- Infidel, initiated into them in so oblique
diah following him with a large reading- and slovenly a manner.-  But he is no
desk, she took it for granted it was an worse, I trust, said Yorick.-  There has
hIferbal, and so drew him a chair to the been certainly, continued my father, the,.ea-side, that he might consult upon the deuce and all to do in some part or other
rasp at his ease.                      jof the ecliptic, when this offspring of mine
- -If it be but right done, said my father, was formed.-  That you are a better




OF TRISTRAM SHANDY.


163


judge of than I, replied Yorick.- Astrologers, quoth my father, know better than
us both:-the trine and sextile aspects have
jumped awry,-or the opposite of their ascendants have not hit it, as they should,or the lords of the genitures (as they call
them) have been at bo-peep,-or something
has been wrong above or below with us.'Tis possible, answered Yorick.-But
is the child, cried my uncle Toby, the
worse?-   The Troglodytes say not, replied my father.-And your'theologists,
Yorick, tell us -- Theologically? said
Yorick; —or speaking after the manner of
apothecaries. *-statesmen i —or washerwomen? t
- I'm not sure, replied my father;but they tell us, brother Toby, he's the
better for it.- Provided, said Yorick, you
travel him into Egypt. —Of that, answered my father, he will have the advantage,
when he sees the Pyramids.
--  Now, every word of this, quoth my
uncle Toby, is Arabic to me. —I wish,
said Yorick,'twas so to half the world.
-   Ilus, continued my father, circumcised his whole army one morning. — Not
without a court-martial cried my uncle
Toby.    Though the learned, continued
he, taking no notice of my uncle'Toby's
remark, but turning to Yorick,-are greatly
divided still, who Ilus was; —some say
Saturn:- some, the Supreme Being;others, no more than a brigadiertgqneral
under Pharaoh-Neco. —Let him be whd
he will, said my uncle Toby, I know not
by what article of war he could justify it.
The controvertists, answered my father,
assign two-and-twenty different reasons for
it:-others, indeed, who have drawn their
pens on the opposite side of the question, have
shown the world the futility of the greatest
part of them.-But then again our best polemic divines,-I wish there wasnot a
polemic divine, said Yorick,,in the kingdom;
-one ounce of practical divinity-is worth
a painted ship-load of all their Reverences


have imported these fifty years.- Pray,
Mr. Yorick, quoth my uncle Toby,-do tel
me what a polemic divine is? —The best
description, Captain Shandy, I have ever
read, is of a couple of'em, replied Yorick,
in the account of the battle fought, single
hands, betwixt Gymnast and Captain Tripet; which; I have in my pocket.- I beg
I may hear;it, quoth my uncle Toby, earnestly —Yqu shall, said Yorick,-And
as the Corporal is waiting for me at the
door, —-and I know the description of a
battle will do, the poor fellow more good
than his supper,-I beg, brother, you'll give
him leave to come in.-With all my soul,
said my father.-  Trim came in, erect and
happy,as an emperor; and having shut the
door, Yorick took a book from his righthand goat-pocket, and read, or pretended tc
read, as follows:CHAP. XXIX.
— "Which words being heard by all
"'the soldiers which were there, divers of
"them, being. inwardly terrified, did shrink
"back and nmake room for the assailant."All this did Gymnast very well remark
"and consider.; and, therefore, making as
"if he wouldhave alighted from off his
"horse, as he was poising himself on the
"mounting side,:he most nimbly (with his
"short sword by.his thigh) shifting his feet
"in the stirrup, and performing the stirrup"leather feat, whereby after the inclining
"of his body downwards, he forthwith
"launched himself aloft into the air, and
"placed both his feet together upon the
"saddle, standing upright, with his back',turned towards his horse's head.-Now
"(said he) my case. goes forward. Then,
"suddenly, in the same posture wherein he
"was, he fetched a gambol upon one foot,
"and turning to the left hand, failed not to
"carry his body perfectly round, just into
"his former position, without missing one
"jot. — Ha! said Tripet, I will not do
"that at this time; and not without cause
"     Well, said Gymnast, I have failed,- 
"I will undo this leap; then with a mai
"vellous strength and agility, turning to
"wards the right hand, he fetched another


* Xa~cenvS v'oa, xat duavLdrs alraXXayi, iv a"vApaica
KaXotcrcv.-PHIL0
t Ta riEpv~prva rTJv lOiov roXvyovwrara, Kai 7roXuapwordara ElvaL.
t Kaaap d67og EtLVCKrV. —BoCHART.
~~O IX9o, 7Tat tOqt r7 pLtrpvTral. raTvo  ro jo-at Ka' trw(
Ju'.au"'r6 0r-rVJPaX& KaraVayKaaTa.-SANcHUNI1ATHO




164


LIFEI AND OPINIONSUT


"frisking gambol as before; which done, through the whole? My uncle Toby and
"he set his right-hand thumb upon the bow Yorick made the obeisance which was
"of the saddle, raised himself up, and proper; and the Corporal, though he was not
"sprung into the air, poising and upholding included in the compliment, laid his hand
"his whole weight upon the muscle and upon his breast, and made his bow at the
"nerve of the said thumb, and so turned same time.-The company smiled.-Trim,
"and whirled himself about three times, quoth my father, has paid the full price for
"at the fourth, reversing his body, and over- staying out the entertainment.-He did not
"turning it upside down, and fbresideback, seem to relish the play, replied Yorick.
"without touching any thing, he brought --'Twas a Tom-fool battle, an' please
"himself betwixt the horse's two ears, and your Reverences, of Captain Tripet's and
"then giving himself a jerking swing, he that other officer, making so many summer"seated himself upon the crupper."-   sets as they advanced:-the French
[This can't be fighting, said my uncle come on capering now and then in that
Toby. —The Corporal shook his head at way,-but not quite so much.
it.-  Have patience, said Yorick.]      My uncle Toby never felt the conscious"Then (Tripet) pass'd his right leg over ness of his existence with more compla"his saddle, and placed himself en croup. cency, than what the Corporal's, and his
"-But, said he,'twere better for me to get own reflections, made him do at that mo"into the saddle; then putting the thumbs ment;-he lighted his pipe,-Yorick drew
"of both hands upon the crupper before his chair closer to the table,-Trim snuffd
"him, and thereupon leaning himself, as the candle,-my father stirr'd up the fire,
"upon the only supporters of his body, he -took up the book,-cough'd twice, and
"incontinently turned heels over head into began.
"the air, and straight found himself be"'twixt the bow of the saddle, in a tolerable
"seat; then springing into the air with a         CHAP. XXXI.
"summerset, he turned him about like a
"wind-mill, and made above an hundred   THE first thirty pages, said my father,
"frisks, turns, and demipommadas."-Good turning over the leaves,  are a little
God! cried Trim, losing all patience-  dry; and as they are not closely connected
one home thrust of a bayonet is worth it all. with the subject,-for the present we'll pass.-  I think so, too, replied Yorick.-  them by:'tis a prefatory introduction, conI am of a contrary opinion, quoth my tinued my father, or an introductory preface
father.                               (for j am not determined which name to


CHAP. XX.
-No;-I thing I have advanced nothing,
replied my father, making answer to a
question which Yorick had taken the liberty to put to him,-I have advanced nothing in the Tristra-pedia, but what is
as clear as any one proposition in Euclid.
--  Reach me, Trim, that book from off
tht scrutoire.-It has oft-times been in my
mind, continued my father, to have read it
over, both to you, Yorick, and to my brother'Toby; and 1 think it a little unfriendly
ni myself, in not having done it long ago.
- -Shall we have a short chapter or two
now,-and a chapter or two hereafter,
is occasions serve, and so on, till we get


give it) upon political or civil government,
the foundation of which being laid in the
first conjunction betwixt male and female,
for procreation of the species,-I was insensibly led into it.-'Twas natural, said
Yorick.
The original of society, continued my
father, I'm satisfied, is, what Politian tells
us, i. e. merely conjugal, and nothing more
than the getting together of one man and
one woman;-to which, (according to Hesiod) the philosopher adds a servant:-but
supposing, in the first beginning, there
were no men-servants born,-he lays the
foundation of it, in a man, -a woman,and a bull.-I believe'tis an ox, quoth
Yorick, quoting the passage (vtKov prv wrpo7o7ara, yvva7Ta re, /3sv 7' aporTpa)-A bull must
have given more trouble than his head was




OF TRISTRAM     SHANDY.                        165
worth.-but there is a better reason still, ing to my uncle Toby) "The son ought to
said my father, (dipping his pen into his " pay her respect," as you may read, Yorick,
ink;) for the ox, being the most patient of at large, in the first book of the Institutes
znimals, and the most useful withal in of Justinian, at the eleventh title, and the
filling the ground for their nourishment,- tenth section. —I can read it as well, rewas the properest instrument, and emblem plied Yorick, in the Catechism.
too, for the new-joined couple, that the
creation could have associated with them.
-And there is a stronger reason, added my          CHAP. IX.
uncle Toby, than them all for the (x. —
My father had not power to take his pen  TRIM can repeat every word of it by
out of his inkhorn, till he had heard my un- heart, quoth my uncle Toby.-Pugh! said
cleToby's reason.-For, whentheground my father, not caring to be interrupted
was tilled, said my uncle Toby, and made with Trim's saying his Catechism.-He
worth inclosing, then they began to secure can, upon my honor, replied my uncle Toby.
it by walls and ditches, which was the -Ask him, Mr. Yorick, any question you
origin of fortification. — True, true, dear please.Toby, cried my father, striking out the bull,  -The Fifth Commandment, Trim-said
and putting the ox in his place.      Yorick, speaking mildly, and with a gentle
My father gave Trim a nod, to snuff the nod, as to a modest catechumen.-The Corcandle, and resumed his discourse.    poral stood silent. — You don't ask him
-— I enter upon this speculation, said right, said my uncle Toby, raising his voice,
my father, carelessly, and half shutting the and giving it rapidly like the word of combook, as he went on, merely to show the mand;-the fifth? —cried my uncle Toby.
foundation of the natural relation between -- I must begin with the first, an! please
a father and his child; the right and juris- your Honor, said the Corporal.diction over whom he acquires these seve-  -Yorick could not forbear smiling.

ral ways:1st, by marriage.
2d, by adoption.
3d, by legitimation.
And, 4th, by procreation; all which I
consider in their order.
I lay a slight stress upon one of them,
replied Yorick,-the act, especially where
it ends there, in my opinion, lays as little
obligation upon the child, as it conveys
power to the father.-  You are wrong,said my father, argutely; and for this plain
reason*     *     *    *    *     *    *
*     *     *    *     *    *    *     *
*     *     *     *    *    *     *    *
-   I own, added my father, that the offspring, upon this account, is not so under the
power and jurisdiction of the mother.-But
the reason, replied Yorick, equally holds good
for her.-She is under authority herself,
said my father:-and besides, continued my
father, nodding his head, and laying his
finger upon the side of his nose, as he assigned his reason,-" she is not the princi" pal agent," Yorick.-In what? quoth my
uncle Toby, stopping his pipe. —Though,
by all means, added my father, (not attend

Your Reverence does not consider, said the
Corporal, shouldering his stick like a musket, and marching into the middle of the
room, to illustrate his position,-that'tis
exactly the same thing as doing one's exercise in the field.
" Join your right hand to your firelock,'
cried the Corporal, giving the word of
command, and performing the motion."Poise your firelock," cried the Corporal, doing the duty still of both adjutant
and private man."Rest your firelock,"-one motion, an'
please your Reverence, you see leads into
another.-If his Honor will begin but with
the first —
The first?-cried my uncle Toby, setting
his hand upon his side.-*  *   *   *
*    *    *    *   *    *
The second?-cried my uncle Toby, waving his tobacco-pipe, as he would have done
his sword at the head of a regiment.-The
Corporal went through his manual with
exactness; and having honored his father
and mother, made a low bow, and fell Dack
to the side of the room.
Every thing in the world, said my father,




166


LIFE: AN~D OPINIONS ~


is big with jest,-and has wit in it, and into very little room; therefore we'll rea,.
instruction too,-if we can but find it out. the chapter quite through.
-Here is the scaffold-work of INSTRUC-  My father read as follows:
TION, its true point of folly, without the  "The whole secret of health depending
BUILDING behind it.                   "upon the due contention for mastery be-Here is the glass for pedagogues, pre-" twixt the radical heat and the radical
ceptors, tutors, governors, gerund-grinders, "moisture," —You have proved that matand bear-leaders, to view themselves in, ter of fact, I suppose, above, said Yorick.
in their true dimensions.-            Sufficiently, replied my father.
Oh! there is a husk and shell, Yorick,  In saying this, my father shut the book,
which grows up with learning, which their -not as if he resolved to read no more of
Ilnskilfulness knows not how to fling away! it, for he kept his fore-finger in the chapter:
SCIENCES MAY BE LEARNED BY ROTE, BUT — not pettishly,- for he shut the book
WISDOM   NOT.             slowly; his thumb resting, when he had
Yorick thought my father inspired. —   done it, upon the upper side of the cover, as
I will enter into obligations this moment, his three fingers supported the lower side ot
said my father, to lay out all my aunt it, without theleast compressive violence.Dinah's legacy in charitable uses, (of  I have demonstrated the truth of that
which, by the bye, my father had no high point, quoth my father, nodding to Yorick,
opinion) if the Corpora] has any one de- most sufficiently, in the preceding chapter.
terminate idea annexed to any one word  Now, could the man in the moon be told,
fie has repeated. - Prithee, Trim, quoth that a man in the earth had wrote a chapter,
my father turning round to him,-what sufficiently demonstrating, That the secret
dost thou mean by "honoring thy father of all health depended upon the due contenand mother."                         tion for mastery betwixt the radical heat
Allowing them, an' please your Honor, and the radical moisture,-and that he had
three half-pence a day out of my pay, when managed the point so well, that there was
they grow old.-  And didst thou do that, not one single word wet or dry upon radiTrim. said Yorick. - He did, indeed, re- cal heat or radical moisture, throughout the
plied my uncle Toby.-Then, Trim, said whole chapter,-or a single syllable in it,
Yorick, springing out of his chair, and pro or con, directly or indirectly, upon
taking the Corporal by the hand, thou art the contention betwixt these two powers
the best commentator on that part of the in any part of the animal economy,Decalogue; and I honor thee more for it,  "0 thou eternal Maker of all beings!"
Corporal Trim, than if thou hadst had a -he would cry, striking his breast with
hand in the Talmud itself.            his right hand, (in case he had one)"Thou whose power and goodness can
"enlarge the faculties of thy creatures to
"this infinite degree of excellence and
"CHAP. XXXIII.  perfection, - What have we MOONITES
CHAP. XXXIII.              "donerl
0 BLESSED health! cried my father,
making an exclamation as he turned over
the leaves to the next chapter,-thou art         CHAP. XXXIV.
above all gold and treasure;'tis thou who
enlargest the soul,-and openest all its  WITH two strokes, the one at Hippocpower to receive instruction and to relish rates, the other at Lord Verulam, did my
virtue. - He that has thee, has little more father achieve it.
to wish for;  and he that is so wretched  The stroke at the prince of physicians,
as to want thee,-wants every thing with with which he began, was no more than
chee.                                 a short insult upon his sorrowful complaint
I have concentrated all that can be said of the ars longa,-and vita brevis.-Life
uiwon this important head, said my father, short, cried my father,-and the art of




OF TRISTRAM SHANDY.


167


healing tedious! and who are we to thank
for both the one and the other, but the
ignorance of quacks themselves,-and the
stage-loads of chemical nostrums, and peripatetic lumber, with which in all ages they
have first flatter'd the world, and at last
deceived it!
-   -  my Lord Verulam! cried my
father, turning from Hippocrates, and making his second stroke at him, as the principal of nostrum-mongers, and the fittest
to be made an example of to the rest,What shall I say to thee, my great lord
Verulam 1 What shall I say to thy internal spirit, - thy opium, thy saltpetre,thy greasy unction,-thy dai.y purges, thy
nightly glisters, and succedaneums?
-   My father was never at a loss what
to say to any man, upon any subject; and
Ilad the least occasion for the exordium of
any man breathing: how he dealt with his
lordship's opinion,-you shall see;-but
when-    I know not:-we must first see
what his lordship's opinion was.
CHAP. XXXV.
"THE two great causes which conspire
" with each other to shorten life, says Lord
Verulam, are, first,"The internal spirit, which, like a genitle
"flame, wastes the body down to death:"and, secondly, the external air, that
"parches the body up to ashes:-which two
"enemies attacking us on both sides of our
"bodies together, at length destroy our or"gans, and render them unfit to carry on
"the functions of life."
This being the state of the case, the road
to longevity was plain; nothing more being
required, says his lordship, but to repair the
waste committed by the internal spirit, by
making the substance of it more thick and
dense, by a regular course of opiates on one
side, and by refrigerating the heat of it on
the other, by three grains and a half of saltpetre every morning before you get up.Still this frame of ours was left exposed
to the inimical assaults of the air without;
-but this was fenced off again by a course
of greasy unctions, which so fully saturated
the pores of the skin, that no spicula could


enter;-nor could anyone get out.-This
put a stop to all perspiration, sensible and
insensible, which being the cause of so many
scurvy distempers,-a course of glisters was
requisite to carry off redundant humors,and render the system complete.
What my father had to say to my lord of
Verulam's opiates, his saltpetre, and greasy
unctions and glisters, you shall read, —but
not to-day-or to-morrow: -time presses
upon me,-my reader is impatient,-    I
must get forwards. —You shall read the
chapter at your leisure, (if you choose it)
as soon as ever the Tristram-pcedia is published.
Sufficeth it at present to say, my father
levelled the hypothesis with the ground,
and in doing that, the learned know, he
built up and established his own.CHAP. XXXVI.
THE whole secret of health, said my
father, beginning the sentence again, depending evidently upon the due contention
betwixt the radical heat and radical moisture within us;-the least imiginable skill
had been sufficient to have maintained it,
had not the schoolmen confounded the task,
merely, (as Van Hemont the famous chymist has proved)-by all along mistaking the
radical moisture for the tallow and fat of
animal bodies.
Now the radical moisture is not the tallow or fat of animals, but an oily and balsamous substance; for the fat or tallow, as
also the phlegm or watery parts, are cold:
whereas the oily and balsamous parts are of
a lively heat and spirit, which accounts for
the observation of Aristotle, " Quod omne
animal post coitum est triste."
Now it is certain, that the radical heat
lives in the radical moisture; but whether
vice versa, is a doubt; however, when the
one decays, the other decays also; and then
is produced, either an unnatural heat, which
causes an unnatural dryness,-or an unnatural moisture, which causes dropsies: —
so that if a child, as he grows up, can but.
be taught to avoid running into fire or water,
as either of them threaten his destruction,
-'twill be all that is needful to be done,
upon that head.



168


LIFE AND OPINIONS


CHAP. XXXVII.                         CHAP. XXXVIII.
THE description of the siege of Jericho  IT was undoubtedly, said my uncle Toby;tself, could not have engaged the attention a great happiness for myself and the Cor.
of my uncle Toby more powerfully than poral, that we had all along a burning fever.
the last chapter;-his eyes were fixed upon attended with a most raging thirst, during
my father, throughout it;-he never men- the whole five-and-twenty days the flux
tioned radical heat and radical moisture, was upon us in the camp; otherwise, what
but my uncle Toby took his pipe out of his my brother calls the radical moisture, must,
mouth and shook his head; and as soon as as I conceive it, inevitably have got the
the chapter was finished, he beckoned to better. —My father drew in his lungs topthe Corporal to come close to his chair, to full of air, and looking up, blew it forth
ask him the following question,-aside:- * again, as slowly as he possibly could.
~ *      * *       *   *      *     *    It was Heaven's mercy to us, continued
*   *    *    *    *    *     *      my uncle Toby, which put it into the CorIt was at the siege of Limerick, an' please poral's head to maintain that due contention
your honor, replied the Corporal, making a betwixt the radical heat and the radical
bow.                                  moisture, by reinforcing the fever, as he
The poor fellow and I, quoth my uncle did all along, with hot wine and spices;
Toby, addressing himself to my father, were whereby the Corporal kept up (as it were)
scarce able to crawl out of our tents, at a continual firing; so that the radical heat
the time the siege of Limerick was raised, stood its ground from the beginning to the
upon the very account you mention.-Now end, and was a-fair match for the moisture,
what can have got into that precious noddle terrible as it was.-Upon my honor, added
of thine, my dear brother Toby? cried my my uncle Toby, you might have heard the
father mentally.  By heaven! continued contention within our bodies, brother Shandy,
he, communing still with himself, it would twenty toises.  If there was no firing,
puzzle an (Edipus to bring it in point.-   said Yorick.I believe, an' please your Honor, quoth  Well, said my father, with a full aspirathe Corporal, that if it had not been for the tion, and pausing a while after the word,quantity of brandy we set fire to every night, was I a judge, and the laws of the country
and the claret and cinnamon with which I which made me one permitted it, I would
plied your Honor off,-And the Geneva, condemn some of the worst malefactors,
Trim, added my uncle Toby, which did us provided they had their clergy,more good than all,-I verily believe, con-  — Yorick, foreseeing the sentence was
tinued the Corporal, we had both, an' please likely to end with no sort of mercy, laid his
your Honor, left our lives in the trenches, hand upon my father's breast, and begged
and been buried in them too.-The noblest he would respite it for a few minutes, till
grave, Corporal, cried my uncle Toby, his he asked the Corporal a question. Prithee,
eyes sparkling as he spoke, that a soldier Trim, said Yorick, without staying for my
could wish to lie down in!  But a pitiful father's leave,-tell us honestly,-what is
death for him! an' please your Honor, re- thy opinion concerning this self-same radical
plied the Corporal.                   heat and radical moisture -
All this was as much Arabic to my father,  With humble submission to his Honor's
as the rites of the Colchi and Troglodytes betterjudgment, quoth the Corporal, making
had been before to my uncle Toby; my a bow to my uncle Toby,       Speak thy
father could not determine whebher he was opinion freely, Corporal, said my uncle
to frown or to smile.                  Toby.-     The poor fellow is my servant,
My uncle Toby, turning to Yorick, re- not my slave, added my uncle Toby, turning
sumed the case at Limerick, more intelligi- to my father.oly than he had begun it,-and so settled  The Corporal put his hat under his left
the point for my father at once. -    arm, and with his stick hanging uDon the




OF TRISTRAM1I SHANDY..


169


wrist of it, by a black thong split into a one of the strongest fortified places in Iretassel about the knot, he marched up to the land.ground where he had performed his cate-  I think this is a new fashion, quoth Dr.
chism; then touching his under jaw with Slop, of beginning a medical lecture.the thumb and finger of his right hand be-'Tis all true, answered Trim.  Then I
fore he opened his mouth,-he delivered his wish the faculty would follow the cut of it,
notion-thus:-                          said Yorick.-'Tis all cut through, an
please your Reverence, said the Corporal,
with drains and bogs: and besides, there
was such a quantity of rain fell during the
CHAP. XXXIX.                siege, the whole country was like a puddle;
-'twas that, and nothing else, which
JUST as the Corporal was hemming to brought on the flux, and which had like to
begin,-in waddled Dr. Slop.-'Tis not have killed both his Honor and myself.
two-pence matter,-the Corporal shall go Now there was no such thing, after the
on in the next chapter, let who will come first ten days, continued the Corporal, for a
in.-                                   soldier to lie dry in his tent, without cutWell, my good Doctor, cried my father, ting a ditch round it, to draw off the water;
sportively, for the transitions of his passions -nor was that enough for those who could
were unaccountably sudden;-and what afford it, as his Honor could, without sethas this whelp of mine to say to the mat- ting fire every night to a pewter dish full
ter?-                                  of brandy, which took off the damp of the
Had my father been asking after the am- air, and made the inside of the tent as warm
putation of the tail of a puppy-dog, - he as a stove.
could not have done it in a more careless  And what conclusion dost thou draw, Corair: the system which Dr. Slop had laid poral Trim, cried my father, from all these
down, to treat the accident by, no way al- premises'lowed of such a mode of inquiry.-He sat  I infer, an' please your Worship, replied
down.-                                 Trim, that the radical moisture is nothing
Pray, Sir, quoth my uncle Toby, in a in the world but ditch-water;-and that the
manner which could not go unanswered,-  radical heat of those who can go to the exin what condition is the boy? —'Twill pense of it, is burnt brandy:-the radical
end in a phimosis, replied Dr. Slop.-  heat and moisture of a private man, an
I am no wiser than I was, quoth my uncle please your Honor, is nothing "but ditchToby, returning his pipe into his mouth. water-and a dram of Geneva;-and give
Then let the Corporal go on, said my us but enough of it, with a pipe of tobacco,
father, with his medical lecture. -The to give us spirits and drive away the vaCorporal made a bow to his old friend, Dr. pors,-we know not what it is to fear
Slop, and then delivered his opinion con- death.
cerning radical heat and radical moisture,  I am at a loss, Captain Shandy, quoth
in the following words:-                Doctor Slop, to determine in which branch
of learning your servant shines most;
whether in physiology or divinity.  Slop
had not forgot Trim's comment upon the
CHAP. XL.                 sermon.It is but an hour ago, replied Yorick,
THE city of Limerick, the siege of which since the Corporal was examined in the
was begun under his majesty King Wil- latter, and passed muster with great hon
liam himself, the year after I went into the or. —
army,-lies, an' please your Honors, in the  The radical heat and moisture, quoth
middle of a devilish wet swampy country.-  Doctor Slop, turning to my father, you'Tis quite surrounded, said my uncle Toby, must know, is the basis and foundation cr
wilh the Shannon: and is, by its situation, otur being,-as the root of a tree is the
W
1N




170                       LIFE AND OPINIONS
source and principle of its vegetation.-It at seventy-five disputing about wisdom, that
is inherent in the seeds of all animals, and he asked gravely,-" If the old man be yet
may be preserved sundry ways; but prin- "disputing and inquiring concerning wiscipally, in my opinion, by consubstantials, "dom,-what time will he have to make
impriments and occludents.-Now this poor "use of it?"
fellow, continued Dr. Slop, pointing to the  Yorick listened to my father with great
Corporal, has had the misfortune to have attention; there was a seasoning of wisdom
neard some superficial empiric discourse unaccountably mixed up with his strangest
upon this nice point.- That he has,-said whims; and he had sometimes such illumimy father.-  Very likely,-said my uncle, nations in the darkest of his eclipses, as al— I'm sure of it,-quoth Yorick.       most atoned for them.-Be wary, Sir, when
you imitate him.
I an, convinced, Yorick, continued my
father, half reading and half discoursing,
CHAP. XLI.                that there is a north-west passage to the intellectual world; and that the soul of man
DOCTOR Slop being called out to look at has shorter ways of going to work, in fura cataplasm he had ordered, it gave my nishing itself with knowledge and instrucfather an opportunity of going on with an- tion, than we generally take with it.-But,
other chapter in the Tristra-pcedia. — alBck! all fields have not a river or a spring
Come! cheer up, my lads; I'll show you running beside them;-every child, Yorick,
land;-for when we have tugged through has not a parent to point it out.
that chapter, the, book shall not be opened  -The whole entirely depends, added my.gain this twelve-month. Huzza!-      father, in a low voice, upon the auxiliary
verbs, Mr. Yorick.
Had Yorick trod upon Virgil's snake, he
could not have looked more surprised.-I
CHAP. XLII.               am surprised too, cried my father, observing
it;-and I reckon it as one of the greatest
— FIVE years with a bib under his calamities which ever befell the republic of
chin;                                 letters, That those who have been intrusted
Four years in travelling from  Christ- with the education of our children, and
cross-row to Malachi;                 whose business it was to open their minds,
A year and a half in learning to write and stock them early with ideas, in order
his own name;                         to set the imagination loose upon them, have
Seven long years and more rv7rrwing it, made so little use of the auxiliary verbs in
at Greek and, Latin;                  doing it, as they have done;-so that, exFour years at his probations and his ne- cept Raymond Lullius, and the elder Pelegations;-the fine statue still lying in the grini, the last of whom arrived to such permiddle of the marble block, and nothing fection in the use of'em, with his topics,
done, but his tools sharpened to hew it out! that, in a few lessons, he could teach a young
-'Tis a piteous delay!-Was not the great gentleman to discourse with plausibility
Julius Scaliger within an ace of never upon any subject,pro and con, and to say and
getting his tools sharpened at all?-Forty- write all that could be spoken or written
four years old was he before he could man- concerning it, without blotting a word, to
age his Greek;-and Peter Damianus, Lord the admiration of all who beheld him.  I
Bishop of Ostia, as all the world knows, should be glad, said Yorick, interrupting
could not so much as read when he was of my father, to be made to comprehend this
man's estate;-and Baldus himself, as emi- matter.- -You shall, said my father.
nent as he turned out after, entered upon  The highest stretch of improvement a
the law so late in life, that every body im- single word is capable of, is a high metaagined he intended to be an advocate in the phor;-for-which, in my opinion, the idea is
other world. No wonder, when Eudamidas, generally the worse, and not the better:the son of Archidamas, heard Xenocrates but, be that as it may,-when the mind has




OF TRI~STRAM SHANDPY.


171


done that with it,-there is an end;-the or chronologically,-Has it been always?
mind and the idea are at rest,-until a sec- Lately? How long ago. or hypothetically,
ond idea enters:-and so on.           -If it was? If it was not?-what would
Now the use of the Auxiliaries is, at follow!-If the French should beat the Enonce to set the soul a-going by herself upon glish? If the Sun go out of the Zodiac?
the materials as they are brought her; and  Now by the right use and application of
by the versability of this great engine, round these, continued my father, in which a child's
which they are twisted, to open new tracts memory should be exercised, there is no one
of inquiry, and make every idea engender idea can enter his brain, how barren soever,
millions.                             but a magazine of corruptions and conYou excite my curiosity greatly, said clusions may be drawn forth from it.Yorick.                               Didst thou ever see a white bear? cried my
For my own part, quoth my uncle Toby, father, turning his head round to Trim, who
I have given it up. —The Danes, an' stood at the back of the chair.-No, an
please your Honor, quoth the Corporal, who please your Honor, replied the Corporal.
were on the left at the siege of Limerick, - But thou couldst discourse about one,
were all auxiliaries. — And very good Trim, said my father, in case of need --
ones, said my uncle Toby.-And your How is it possible, brother, quoth my uncle
Honor roul'd with them,-captains with Toby, if the Corporal never saw one?-'Tis
captains,-very well, said the Corporal. —   the fact I want, replied my father;-and the
But the auxiliaries, Trim, my brother is talk- possibility of it is as follows:ing about, answered my uncle Toby,-I con-  A WHITE BEAR! Very well. Have I ever
ceive to be different things.         seen one? Might I ever have seen one?
You do? said my father, rising up. Am I ever to see one  Ought I ever to
have seen one? Or can I ever see one?
Would I had seen a white bear! (for how
CHAP. XLIII.              can I imagine it )
If I should see a white bear, what should
My father took a single turn across the I say? If I should never see a white bear,
room, then sat down and finished the chap- what then?
ter.                                    If I never have, can, must, or shall see a
The verbs auxiliary we are concerned in white bear alive,-have I ever seen the
here, continued my father, are, am, was, skin of one? Did I ever see one painted?have, had, do, did, make, made, sufer, shall, described? Have I never dreamed of one?
should, will, would, can, could, owe, ought,  Did my father, mother, uncle, aunt, bo.
used, or is wont;-and these varied with thers, or sisters, ever see a white bear.
tenses, present, past, future, and conjuga- What would they give? How would they
ted with the verb see,-or with these ques- behave? How would the white bear have
tions added to them:-Is it? Was it? Will behaved.  Is he wild? Tame? Terrible'
it be? Would it be? May it be? Might it Rough? Smooth 1
be?-and these again put negatively,-Is  -Is the white bear worth seeing 
it not? Was it not? Ought it not?-or a-  -Is there no sin in it 
firmatively, It is, It was, It ought to be:-  Is it better than a black one?




THE
LIFE AND OPINIONS
OF
rtitfiotva  Sl    tgm2,


GENTLEMAN.


CHAP. I.
WE'LL not stop two moments, my dear
Sir,-only as we have got through these
seven volumes,* (do, Sir, sit down upon a seat
-they are better than nothing) let us just
look back upon the country we have passed
through.What a wilderness has it been! and
what a mercy that we have not both of us
been lost, or devoured by wild beasts in it!
Did you think the world itself, Sir, had
contained such a number of Jack-Asses --
How they view'd and review'd us, as we
passed over the rivulet at the bottom of
that little valley!-and when we climbed
over that hill, and were just getting out of
sight,-good God! what a braying did they
all set up together!
-Prithee, Shepherd, who keeps all these
Jack-Asses. * * *
-Heaven be their comforter-What!
are they never curried'-are they never
taken in in winter — Bray,-bray,-bray,
bray on,-the world is deeply your debtor;
-louder still-that's nothing; -in good
sooth, you are ill used.-Was I a Jack-Ass,
I solemnly declare, I would bray in G-solre-ut from morning, even unto night.
CHAP. II.
WHEN my father had danced his white
bear backwards and forwards through half
a dozen pages, he closed the book for good
and all,-and, in a kind of triumph, re-de-.ivered it into Trim's hand, with a nod to
lay it upon the scrutoire where he found it.


Tristram, said he, shall be made to conjugate every word in the dictionary backwards and forwards the same way:-every
word, Yorick, by this means, you see, is
converted into a thesis or an hypothesis;every thesis and hypothesis have an offspring of propositions;-and each proposition has its own consequences and conclusions;-every one of which leads the mind
on again, into fresh tracts of inquiries and
doubtings.-The force of this engine, added
my father, is incredible, in opening a child's
head. -'Tis enough, brother Shandy,
cried my uncle Toby, to burst it into a
thousand splinters. —
I presume, said Yorick, smiling,-it musn,
be owing to this, (for, let logicians say
what they will, it is not to be accounted for
sufficiently from the bare use of the ten'
predicaments), -that the famous Vincent
Quirino, amongst the many other astonishing feats of his childhood, of which the
Cardinal Bembo has given the world so
exact a story-should be able to paste up
in the public schools at Rome, so early as
in the eighth year of his age, no less than
four thousand five hundred and sixty different theses, upon the most abstruse points
of the most abstruse theology;-and to defend and maintain them in such sort, as to
cramp and dumbfound his opponents. —
What is that, cried my father, to what is
told us of Alphonsus Tostatus, who, almost
in his nurse's arms, learned all the sciences
and liberal arts, without being taught any
one of them:?-What shall we say of the
great Peireskius — That's the very man,
cried my uncle Toby, I once told you of,
brother Shandy, who walked a matter of
five hundred miles, reckoning from Paris
to Scheveling, and from Scheveling back


* According to the original editions.




OF TRISTRAM SH. NDY.


173


again, merely to see [;tevinus's flying chariot.-He was a very great man! added my
uncle Toby, (meaning Stevinus).-He was
so, brother Toby, said my father, (meaning
Peireskius)-and had multiplied his ideas
so fast, and increased his knowledge to such
a prodigious stock, that, if we may give
credit to an anecdote concerning him, which
we cannot withhold here, without shaking
the authority of all anecdotes whatever,at seven years of age, his father committed
entirely to his care the education of his
younger brother, a boy of five years old,with the sole management of all his concerns.-Was the father as wise as the son?
quoth niy uncle Toby.-I should think not,
said Yorick. - But what are these, continued my father-(breaking out in a kind
of enthusiasm) - what are these to those
prodigies of childhood in Grotius, Scioppius,
Heinsius, Politian, Pascal, Joseph Scaliger,
Ferdinand de Cordoue, and others,- some
of whom left off their substantial forms at
nine years old, or sooner, and went on reasoning without them? -Others went through
their classes at seven;-wrcte tragedies at
eight.-Ferdinand de Cordoun was so wise
at nine,'twas thought the devil was in him;
-and at Venice gave such proofs of his
knowledge and goodness, that the monks
Imagined he was Antichrist, or nothing.Others were masters of fourteen languages
at ten;-finished the course of their rhetoric,
poetry, logic,- and ethics, at eleven; -put
forth their commentaries upon Servius and
Martianus Capella at twelve; —and at thirteen received their degrees in philosophy,
laws, and divinity.-But you forget the great
Lipsius, quoth Yorick, who composed a
work* the day he was born.-They should
have wiped it up, said my uncle Toby, and
said no more about it.


I


CHAP. III.
WHEN the cataplasm was ready, a scruple of decorum had unseasonably rose up
in Susannah's conscience about holding the
candle, whilst Slop tied it on; Slop had not
treated Susannah's distemper with anodynes,-and so a quarrel had ensued betwixt them.
Oh! oh!-said Slop, casting a glance of
undue freedom in Susannah's face, as she
declined the office; —then, I think, I know
you, Madam.-You know me, Sir, cried
Susannah, fastidiously, and with a toss of
her head, levelled evidently, not at his pro,
fession, but at the doctor himself,-you
know me! cried Susannah again.-Dr. Slop
clapped his finger and his thumb instantly
upon his nostrils; —Susannah's spleen was
ready to burst at it;-'Tis false, said Susannah.-Come, come, Mrs. Modesty, said
Slop, not a little elated with the success of
his last thrust,-if you won't hold the candle and look-you may hold it and shut
your eyes.-That's one of your popish shifts,
cried Susannah.-'Tis better, said Slop,
with a nod, than no shift at all, young woman.-I defy you, Sir, cried Susannal,
pulling her shift-sleeve below her elbow.
It was almost impossible for two persons
to assist each other, in a surgical case, witri
a more splenetic cordiality.
Slop snatched up the cataplasm:-Susannah snatched up the candle.-A little
this way, said Slop.-Susannah looking one
way, and rowing another, instantly set fire
to Slop's wig, which being somewhat bushy
and unctuous withal, was burnt out before
it was well kindled.-You impudent whore!
cried Slop,-(for what is passion but a wil6
beast)-you impudent whore! cried Slop,
getting upright, with' the cataplasm in his
hand. —I never was the destruction of any
body's nose, said Susannah-which is more
than you can say. -Is it? —cried Slop,
throwing the cataplasm in her face.-Yes,
it is, cried Susannah, returning the compli.
ment with wnat was left in the pan
CHAP. IV.
DOCTOR Slop and Susannah filed cross
bills against each other in the parlor; wh;ci'
15*




* Nous aurions quelqne interkt, says Baillet, de
montrer qu'il n'a rien de ridicule s'il etoit veritable,
au moins dans le sens enigmatique que Nicius Eryth-'~els a ticha de lui donner. Cet auteur dit que pour
comprendre comme Lipse, il a pu composer un ouvrage
le premier jour de sa vie il faut s'imaginer, que ce
premier jour n'est pas celui de la naissance charnelle,
mais celnti au quel il a commenc6 d'user de la raison:
it veut que q'ait-t A Pl'age de neuf ans; et il nous
veut persuader que ce fut en cet age, que Lipse fit un
poene. -Le tour est ingenieux, &c. &c.


throwing the cataplasm in her face.-Yes,
it is, cried Susannah, returning the compli.
ment with wnat was left in the pan
CHAP. IV.
DoCTOR Slop and Susannah filpd cross
bills aoaiiist each other in the parlor; whier



174


LIFE AND OPINIONS


done, as the cataplasm had failed, they retired into the kitchen, to prepare a fomentation for me;-and whilst that was doing,
my father determined the point, as you will
read.
CHAP. V.
You see'tis high time, said my father,
addressing himself equally to my uncle
Toby and Yorick, to take this young creature out of these women's hands, and put
him into those of a private governor. Marcus Antor nus provided fourteen governors
all at onct to superintend his son Comnmodus's edu(ation;-and in six weeks cashiered five of them.-I know very well,
continued my father, that Commodus's
mother was in love with a gladiator at the
time of her conception; which accounts for
a great many of Commodus's cruelties
when he became emperor;-but still I am
of opinion, that those five whom Antoninus
dismissed, did Commodus's temper, in that
short time, more hurt than the other nine
were able to rectify all their lives long.
Now, as I consider the persdh who is to
be about my son, as the mirror in which he
is to view himself fiom morning to night,
and by which he is to adjust his looks, his
carriage, and, perhaps, the inmost senti-,nents of his heart, —I would have one,
Yorick, if possible, polished at all points,
fit for my child to look into.-This is very
good sense, quoth my uncle Toby to himself.
-There is, continued my father, a certain mien and motion of the body and all
its parts, both in acting and speaking,
which argues a man well within;-and I
am not at all surnrised, that Gregory of
Nazianzum, upon observing the hasty and
untoward gestures of Julian, should foretell
he would one day become an apostate;-or
that St. Ambrose should turn his amanuensis
out of doors, because of an indecent motion',f his head, which went backwards and
Ibrwards like a fdil; —or that Democritus
should conceive Protagoras to be a scholar
Irom seeing lim bind up a fagot, and
thrusting, as he did it, the small twigs inwards.-There are a thousand unnoticed
openings, conltinued miv father, which let a


penetrating eye at once into a man's soul;
and I maintain it, Pdded he, that a man of
sense does not lay down his hat in coming
into a room,-or take it up in going out
of it, but something escapes which disco,
vers him.
It is for these reasons, continued my
father, that the governor I make choice ol,
shall neither lisp,* nor squint, nor wink,
nor talk loud, nor look fierce, nor foolish;
-nor bite his lips, nor grind his teeth, nor
speak through his nose, nor pick it, nor blow
it with his fingers.
He shall n~either walk fast, nor slow, nor
fold his arms,-for that is laziness; nor
hang them down,-for that is folly; nor
hide them in his pocket,-for that is nonsense.
He shall neither strike, nor pinch, nor
tickle,-nor bite, nor cut his nails, nor
hawk, nor spit, nor snift, nor drum with his
feet or fingers in company;-nor (according
to Erasmus) shall he speak to any one, in
making water,-nor shall he point to carrion or excrement.-Now this is all nonsense again, quoth my uncle Toby to himself.
I will have him, continued' my father,
cheerful, facetS, jovial; at the same time
prudent, attentive to business, vigilant,
acute, argute, inventive, quick in resolving
doubts and speculative questions;-he shall
be wise, and judicious, and learned.-And
why not humble, and moderate, and gentletempered, and good? said Yorick.-And
why not, cried my uncle Toby, free, and
generous, and bountiful, and brave?-He
shall, my dear Toby, replied my father,
getting up and shaking him by his hand.Then, brother Shandy, answered my uncle
Toby, raising himself off the chair, and
laying down his pipe to take hold of my
father's other hand,-I humbly beg I may
recommend poor Le Fevre's son to you —
(a tear of joy of the first water sparkled in
my uncle Toby's eye,-and another, the
fellow to it, in the Corporal's, as the proposition was made)-you will see why, when
you read Le Fevre's story. Fool that I
was! nor can I recollect, (nor perhaps you)
without turning back to the place, what it
was that hindered me from letting the Cor

* Vide Pellegrina.




OF TRISTRAM SHANAiDY.


175


poral tell it in his own words;-but the such a thing, added the landlord, I would
occasion is lost,-I must tell it now in my almost steal it for the poor gentleman, he
own.                                   is so ill. I hope in God he will still mend,
continued he; we are all of us concerned.
-— =* —'!for him.


CHAP. VI.
THE STORY OF LE FEVRE.
IT was some time in the summer of that
year in which Dendermond was taken by
the aiiies,-which was about seven years
before my father came into the country,and about as many after the time that my
uncle Toby and Trim  had privately decamped from my father's house in town, in
order to lay some of the finest sieges to
some of the finest fortified cities in Europe;
-when my uncle Toby was one evening
getting his supper, with Trim sitting behind
him at a small sideboard,-I say, sitting,for in consideration of the Corporal's lame
knee (which sometimes gave him exquisite
Dain)-when my uncle Toby dined or supped
alone, he would never suffer the Corporal
to stand; and the poor fellow's veneration
for his master was such, that, with a proper
artillery, my uncle Toby could have taken
Dendermond itself with less trouble than
he was able to gain his point over him; for
many a time, when my uncle Toby supposed the Corporal's leg was at rest, he
would look back, and detect him standing
behind him with the most dutiful respect.
-This bred more little squabbles betwixt
them, than all other causes, for five and
twenty years together.-But this is neither
here nor there-why do I mention itlAsk my pen;-it governs me,-I govern
not it.
He was one evening sitting thus at his
supper, when the landlord of a little inn in
the-village, came into the parlor with an
empty phial in his hand, to beg a glass or
two of sack.-'Tis for a poor gentleman, I
think, of the army, said the landlord, who
has been taken ill at my house four days
ago, and has never held up his head since,
or had a desire to taste any thing, till just
now, that he has a fancy for a glass of sack,
and a thin toast.-I think, says he, taking
his hand from his head, it would comfort me.
If I could neither beg borrow, or buy


-Thou art a good-natured soul, I will
answer for thee, cried my uncle Toby; and
thou shalt drink the poor gentleman's health
in a glass of sack thyself,-and take a couple of bottles, with my service, and tell
him he is heartily welcome to them, and to
a dozen more, if they will do him good.
Though I am persuaded, said my uncle
Toby, as the landlord shut the door, he is a
very compassionate fellow, Trim, yet I cannot help entertaining a high opinion of his
guest too. There must be something more
than common in him, that, in so short a
time, should win so much upon the affections of his host:-And of his whole family,
added the Corporal, for they are all concerned for him.-Step after him, said my
uncle Toby, do, Trim; and ask if he knows
his name.
-I have quite forgot it truly, said the
landlord, coming back into the parlor with
the Corporal;-but I can ask his son again.
-Has he a son with him, then? said my
uncle Toby.-A boy, replied the landlord,
of about eleven or twelve years of age;but the poor creature has tasted almost as
little as his father: he does nothing but
mourn and lament for him night and day.
He has not stirred fiom the bed-side these
two days.
My uncle Toby laid down his knife and
fork, and thrust his plate from before him,
as the landlord gave him the account; ahd
Trim, without being ordered, took it away
without saying one word, and, in a few
minutes after, brought him his pipe and tobacco.
-Stay in the room a little, said my uncle Toby.
Trim! said my uncle Toby, after he
lighted his pipe, and smoked about a dozen
whiffs.-Trim came in front of his master,
and made his bow;-my uncle Toby smoked on, and said no more.-Corporal! said
my uncle Toby,-the Corporal made his
bow.-My uncle Toby proceeded no farther,
but finished his pipe.
Trim! said my uncle Toby, I have a
project in my head, as;t is a bad nlgnt. of




17t


LIFE AND OPINIONS


wrapping myself up warm in my roquelaure,
and paying a visit to this poor gentleman.
— Your Honor's roquelaure, replied the
Corporal, has not once been had on, since
the night before your Honor received your
wound, when we mounted guard in the
trenches before the gate of St. Nicholas;
and, besides, it is so cold and rainy a night,
that what with the roquelaure, and what
with the weather,'twill be enough to give
your Honor your death, and bring on your
Honor's torment in your groin.-I fear so,
replied my uncle Toby; but I am not at
rest in my mind, Trim, since the account
the landlord has given me.-I wish I had
not known so much of this affair, added my
uncle Toby, or that I had known more of
it.-How shall we manage it? Leave it,
an' please your Honor, to me, quoth the
Corporal. I'll take my hat and stick, and
go to the house and reconnoitre, and act
accordingly; and I will bring your Honor
a fill account in an hour.-Thou shalt go,
Trim, said my uncle Toby, and here's a shilling for thee to drink with his servant.-I
shall get it all out of him, said the Corporal, shutting the door.
My uncle Toby filled his second pipe;
and had it not been that he now and then
wandered from the point, with considering
whether it was not full as well to have the
curtain of the tenaille a straight line, as a
crooked one,-he might be said to have
thought of nothing else but poor Le Fevre
and his boy the whole time he smoked it.
CHAP. VII.
THE STORY OF LE FEVRE CONTINUED.
-IT was not till my uncle Toby had
knocked the ashes out of his third pipe, that
Corporal Trim returned from the inn, and
gave him the following account:-I despaired at first, said the Corporal,
of being able to bring back your Honor any
kind of intelligence concerning the poor
sick lieutenant.-Is he in the army then'?
sdtid my uncle Toby.-He is, said the Corpcral.-And in what regiment? said my
uncle Toby.-I'll tell your Honor, replied'he Corporal, every thing straight-forwards,


as I learnt it.-Then, Trim, I'll fill another
pipe, said my uncle Toby, and not interrupt
thee, till thou hast done; so sit, down at
thy ease, Trim, in the window-seat, and
begin thy story again.-The Corporal made
his old bow, which generally spoke as plain
as a bow could speak it-Your Honor is
good:-And having done that, he sat down,
as he was ordered, and began the story to
my uncle Toby over again, in pretty near
the same words.
I despaired at first, said the Corporal, of
being able to bring back any intelligence
to your Honor, about the lieutenant and his
son:-for, when I asked where his servant
was, from whom I made myself sure of
knowing every thing which was proper to
be asked,-(That's a right distinction, Trim,
said my uncle Toby)-I was answered, an'
please your Honor, that he had no servant
with him;-that he had come to the inn
with hired horses, which, upon finding himself unable to proceed, (to join, I suppose,
the regiment) he had dismissed the morning after he came.-If I get better, my
dear, said he, as he gave his purse to his
son to pay the man,-we can hire horses
from hence.-But alas! the poor gentleman will never go from hence, said the
landlady to me,-for I heard the deathwatch all night long;-and, when he dies,
the youth, his son, will certainly die with
him; for he is broken-hearted already.
I was hearing this account, continued
the Corporal, when the youth came into
the kitchen, to order the thin toast the
landlord spoke of:-but I will do it for my
father, myself, said the youth.-Pray let
me save you the trouble, young gentleman,
said I, taking up a fork for the purpose, and
offering him my chair to sit down upon by
the fire, whilst I did it.-I believe, Sir,
said he, very modestly, I can please him
best myself.-I am sure, said I, his Honor
will not like the toast the worse for being
toasted by an old soldier.-The youth took
hold of my hand, and instantly burst into
tears.-Poor youth! said my uncle Toby;
-he has been bred up from an infant in
the army; and the name of a soldier, Trim,
sounded in his ears like the name of a
friend!-I wish I had him here.


-I never, in the longest march, said the
Corporal, had so great a mind for my din



OF TRI'STRAM SHANDY.


177


ner, as I had to cry with him for company: said I, for months together, in long and
-What could be the matter with me, an dangerous marches;    harassed, perhaps,
please your Honor?-Nothing in the world, in his rear to-day; —harassing others to
Trim, said my uncle Toby, blowing his morrow;-detached here;-countermanded
nose,-but that thou art a good-natured there;-resting this night out upon his
fellow.                                arms;-beat up in his shirt the next; —be— When I gave him the toast, continued numbed in, his joints; perhaps without
the Corporal, I thought it was proper to straw in his tent to kneel on; —must say
tell him, I was Captain Shandy's servant, his prayers how and when he can.-  I
and that your Honor (though a stranger) believe, said I, for I was piqued, quoth the
was extremely concerned for his father;- Corporal, for the reputation of the army,and that if there was any thing in your I believe, an' please your Reverence, said
house or cellar-(And thou might'st have I, that when a soldier gets time to pray,added my purse too, said my uncle Toby)- he prays as heartily as a parson-though
lie was heartily welcome to it.- He made not with all his fuss and hypocrisy.-Thou
a very low bow (which was meant to your shouldst not have said that, Trim, said my
Honor) but no answer;-for his heart was uncle Toby,-for God only knows who is a
full:-so he went up stairs with the toast. hypocrite, and who is not:-At the great
-I warrant you, my dear, said I, as I open- and general review of us all, Corporal, at
ed' the kitchen-door, your father will be the day of judgment, (and not till then)well again.-   Mr. Yorick's curate was it will be seen who have done their duties
smoking a pipe by the kitchen-fire,-but in this world,-and who have not; and we
said not a word, good or bad, to comfort the shall be advanced, Trim, accordingly.-I
youth.-I thought it wrong, added the Cor- hope we shall, said Trim.  It is in the
poral.   I think so too, said my uncle scripture, said my uncle Toby; and I will
Toby.                                  show it thee to-morrow.-In the mean time
When the lieutenant had taken his glass we may depend upon it, Trim, for our
of sack and toast, he. felt himself a little comfort, said my uncle Toby, that God
revived, and sent down into the kitchen, to Almighty is so good and just a governor of
let me know, that in about ten minutes, he the world, that if we have but done our
should be glad if I would step up stairs. duties in it,-it will never be inquired into,
-   I believe, said the landlord, he is going whether we have done them in a red coat
to say his prayers,-for there was a book or a black one.-I hope not, said the Corlaid upon the chair by his bed-side, and as poral.-But go on, Trim, said my uncle
I shut the door, I saw his son take up a Toby, with thy story.cushion.                                 When I went up, continued the Corporal,
-I thought, said the curate, that you into the lieutenant's room, which I did not
gentlemen of the army, Mr. Trim, never do till the expiration of the ten minutes,said your prayers at all.-I heard the poor he was lying in his bed, with his head
gentleman say his prayers last night, said raised upon his hand, with his elbow upon
the landlady, very devoutly, and with my the pillow, and a clean white cambric handown ears, or I could not have believed it. kerchief beside it.-The youth was just
--  Are you sure of it? replied the curate. stooping down to take up the cushion, upon
-A soldier, an' please your Reverence, which, I supposed, he had been kneeling;
said I, prays as often (of his own accord) as -the book was laid upon the bed;-and as
a parson; and when he is fighting for his he rose, in taking up the cushion with one
king, and for his own life, and for his honor hand, he reached out his other to take it
too, he has the most reason to pray to God away at the same time.-Let it remain
of any one in the whole world.-'Twas there, my dear, said the lieutenant.well said of thee, Trim, said my uncle   He did not offer to speak to me, till I had
Toby.-But when a soldier, said I, an' walked up close to to his bed-side.-If you
please your Reverence, has been standing are Captain Shandy's servant, said he, you
for twelve hours together in the trenches, must present my thanks to your master,
up to his knees in cold water,-or engaged, with my little boy's thanks along with
X




178


LIFE AND OPINIONS


them, for his courtesy to me.-If he was
of Levens's,-said the lieutenant.-I told
him your Honor was.-Then, said he, I
served three campaigns with him in Flanders, and remember him,-but'tis most
likely, as I had not the honor of any acquaintance with him, that he knows nothing
of me.-You will tell him, however, that
the person his good-nature has laid under
obligations to him, is one Le Fevre, a lieu-.
tenant in Angus's;-but he knows me not,
— said he, a second time, musing;-possibly he may my story, added he.-Pray tell
the captain, I was the ensign at Breda,
whose wife was most unfortunately killed
with a musket-shot, as she lay in my arms
in my tent.-I remember the story, an'
please your Honor, said I, very well.-Do
you so'?-said he, wiping his eyes with his
handkerchief,- then well may I. -   In
saying this, he drew a little ring out of his
bosom, which seemed tied with a black
ribbon about his neck, and kissed it twice.
-   Here, Billy, said he;-the boy flew
across the room to the bed-side,-and falling down upon his knee, took the ring in
his hand, and kissed it too,-then kissed hi's
father, and sat down upon the bed and
wept.
I wish, said my uncle Toby, with a deep
sigh,-I wish, Trim, I was asleep.Your Honor, replied the Corporal, is too
much concerned. —Shall I pour out your
Honor a glass of sack, to your pipe?-Do,
Trim, said my uncle Toby.
I remember, said my uncle Toby, sighing
again, the story of the ensign and his wife,
with a circumstance his modesty omitted;
-and particularly well that he, as well as
she, upon some account or other, (I forget
what) was universally pitied by the whole
regiment;-but finish the story thou art
upon.-'Tis finished already, said the Corporal,-for I could stay no longer;-so wished his Honor a good night. Young Le Fevre
rose from off the bed, and saw me to the
bottom of the stairs; and as we went down
Logether, told me, they had come from Ireland, and were on their route to join the
regiment in Flanders.    But alas! said
the Corporal, -the lieutenant's last day's,naren is over,!- Then what is to become
er niws oopr bov  cried my uncle Toby.


CHAP. VIII.


THE STORY OF LE FEVRE CONTINUED.
IT was to my uncle Toby's eternal honor
-though I tell it only for the sake of those
who, when coop'd in betwixt a natural and
a positive law, know not, for their souls,
which way in the world to turn themselves,
-That notwithstanding my uncle Toby
was warmly engaged at that time in carrying on the siege of Dendermond, parallel
with the allies, who pressed theirs so vigorously, that they scarce allowed him time
to get his dinner:-that nevertheless he
gave up Dendermond, though he had already made a lodgment upon the counterscarp;-and bent his whole thoughts towards the private distresses at the inn; and,
except that he ordered the garden-gate to
be bolted up, by which he might be said to
have turned the siege of Dendermond into
a blockade,-he left Dendermond to itself,
-to be relieved or not by the French king,
as the French king thought good; and only
considered how he himself should relieve
the poor lieutenant and his son.
-That kind Being, who is a frieind to
the friendless, shall recompense thee for
this.Thou hast left this matter short, said my
uncle Toby to the Corporal, as he was
putting him to bed, and I will tell thee in
what, Trim.-In the first place, when thou
mad'st an offer of my services to Le Fevre,
-as sickness and travelling are both expensive, and thou knew'st he was but a poor
lieutenant, with a son to subsist as well as
himself, out of his pay,-that thou didst
not make an offer to him of my purse; because, had he stood in need, thou knowest,
Trim, he had been as welcome to it as myself.-Your Honor knows, said the Corporal,
I had no orders.-True, quoth my uncle
Toby,-thou didst very right, Trim, as a
soldier,- but certainly very wrong as a
man.
In the second place, for which, indeed,
thou hast the same excuse, continued my
uncle Toby,-when thou offeredst him whatever was in my house, thou shouldst have
offered him my house too.-A sick brothel
officer should have tne best quarters, Trim;




, i  \.

THE STORY OF LEFEVRE.
"Anld the Corporal shall be your nurse;-and I'll be your servant, Lefevre."-p 179








OF TRISTRAM SHANDY:


179


and if we had him with us,-we could tend
and look to him.   Thou art an excellent
nurse thyself, Trim, and what with thy care
of him, and the old woman's, and his boy's,
and mine together, we might recruit him
again at once, and set him upon his legs.-In a fortnight or three weeks, added
my uncle Toby, smiling,-he might march.
— He will never march, an' please your
Honor, in this world, said the Corporal. He
will march, said my uncle Toby, rising up
from the side of the bed with one shoe off.
-An' please your Honor, said the Corporal, he will never march, but to his grave.
--  He shall march, cried my uncle Toby,
marching the foot which had a shoe on,
though without advancing an inch,-he shall
march to his regiment.-He cannot stand
it, said the Corporal.-He shall be supported, said my uncle Toby.-He'll drop at last,
said the Corporal, and what will become of
his boy?-He shall not drop, said my uncle
Toby, firmly.-A-well-a-day! do what we
can for him, said Trim, maintaining his
point,-the poor soul will die.-He shall
not die, by G-, cried my uncle Toby.
--  The accusing spirit which flew up
to Heaven's chancery with the oath, blush'd
as he gave it in; and the recording angel,
as he wrote it down, dropp'd a tear upon
the word, and blotted it out for ever.
CHAP. IX.
-MY uncle Toby went to his bureau,put his purse into his breeches-pocket, and
having ordered the Corporal, to go early in
the morning for a physician,-he wert to
bed, and fell asleep.
CHAP. X.
THE STORY OF LE FEVRE CONCLUDED.
THE sun looked bright the morning after,
to every eye in the village but Le Fevre's
and his afflicted son's; the hand of death
press'd heavy upon his eye-lids;-and hardly
could the wheel at the cistern turn round
ts circle,-wxhen my uncle Toby, who had


rose up an hour before his wonted time,
entered the lieutenant's room, and without
preface or apology, sat himself down upon
the chair by the bed-side, and, independently
of all modes and customs, opened the curtain
in the manner an old friend and brotherofficer would have done it, and asked him
how he did,-how he had rested in the
night,-what was his complaint, —where
was his pain,-and what he could do to help
him; —and without giving him time tc
answer any one of the inquiries, went on
and told him of the little plan which he had
been concerting with the Corporal the night
before for him.
-You shall go home directly, Le Fevre,
said my uncle Toby, to my house, and we'll
send for a doctor to see what's the matter,
-and we'll have an apothecary,-and the
Corporal shall be your nurse;-and I'll be
your servant, Le Fevre.There was a frankness in my uncle Toby,
-not the effect of familiarity, -but the
cause of it,-which let you at once into his
soul, and showed you the goodness of his
nature. To this, there was something in his
looks, and voice, and manner, superadded,
which eternally beckoned to the unfortunate
to come and take shelter under him; so that
before my uncle Toby had half finished the
kind offers he was making to the father, had
the son insensibly pressed up close to his
knees, and had taken hold of the breast of
his coat, and was pulling it towards him.
-   The blood and spirits of Le Fevre,
which were waxing cold and slow within
him, and were retreating to their last citadel,
the heart-rallied back,-the film forsook
his eyes for a moment;-he looked up wishfully in my uncle Toby's face; —then cast
a look upon his boy;-and that ligament,
fine as it was, was never broken.Nature instantly ebb'd again;-the film
returned to its place;-the pulse fluttered,
- stopp'd, -went on, - throbb'd, - stopp'd
again, -mov'd, —stopp'd,-shall I go on 
No.
CHAP. XI.
I AM so impatient to return to my owi.
story, that what remains of young 1.e




180


ILIFE AND OPINIONS


Pevre's, that is, from this turn of his fortune, to the time my uncle Toby recommended him for my preceptor, shall be told
in a very few words, in the next chapter.
-All that is necessary to be added to this
chapter is as follows:That my uncle Toby, with young Le
Fevre in his hand, attended the poor lieutenant, as chief mourners, to his grave.
That the governor of Dendermond paid
his obsequies all military honors; and that
Yorick, not to be behind-hand,-paid him
all ecclesiastic,-for he buried him in his
chancel.- And it appears likewise, he
preached a funeral sermon over him, —I
say, it appears,-for it was Yorick's custom
which I suppose a general one with those
of his profession, on the first leaf of every
sermon which he composed, to chronicle
down the time, the place, and the occasion
of its being preached: to this, he was ever
wont to add some short comment or stricture upon the sermon itself, -seldom, indeed, much to its credit. -For instance,
"This sermon upon the Jewish dispensation
-I don't like it at all; though I own there
is a world of WATER-LANDISH knowledge in
it; —but'tis all tritical, and most tritically
put together.-This is but a flimsy kind of




the human heart;-have seventy times
more wit and spirit in them;-(and to rise
properly in my climax)-discover a thousand times more genius; and, to crown all,
are infinitely more entertaining, than those
tied up with them:- for which reason,
whenever Yorick's dramatic sermons are
offered to the world, though I shall admit
but one out of the whole number of the So
so's, I shall, nevertheless, adventure to print
the two moderato's without any sort of
scruple.
What Yorick could mean by the words
lentamente,- tenute,-grave,-and sometimes adagio,-as applied to theological
compositions, and with which he has characterized some of these sermons, I dare not
venture to guess.-I am more puzzled still
upon finding a l'octavo alta! upon one:Constrepito upon the back of another;Scicilliana upon a third;-Alla capella
upon a fourth;-Con l'arco upon this;Senza l'arco upon that.-All I know is, that
they are musical terms, and have a meaning;-and as he was a musical man, I will
make no doubt, but that by some quaint application of such metaphors to the compositions in hand, they impressed very distinct
ideas of their several characters upon his




composition. What was in my head when I fancy, whatever they may do upon that of
made it                               others.
"-N. B. The excellency of this text is,  Amongst these, there is that particular
that it will suit any sermon;-and of this sermon which has unaccountably led me
sermon, that it will suit any text.   into this digression,-The funeral sermon
" -For this sermon I shall be hanged,-  upon poor Le Fevre, wrote out very fairly,
for I have stolen the greatest part of it. as if from a hasty copy.-I take notice of it
Doctor Paidagunes found me out.       the more, because it seems to have been his
"i    Set a thief to catch a thief."  favorite composition.-It is upon mortality;
On the backofhalfa dozenI find written, and is tied length-ways and cross-ways
"So so," and no more:-and upon a couple with a yarn thrum, and then rolled up and
"Moderato;" by which, as far as one may twisted round with a half sheet of dirty
gather from Altieri's Italian Dictionary,-  blue paper, which seems to have been once
but mostly from the authority of a piece of the cast-cover of a general review, which
green whip-cord, which seemed to have to this day smells horribly of horse drugs.been the unravelling of Yorick's whip-lash, Whether these marks of humiliation were
with which he has left us the two sermons designed,-I something doubt;-because at
marked Moderato, and the half dozen of the end of the sermon, (and not at the beSo so's, tied fast together in one bundle ginning of it)-very different from his way
by themselves, one may safely suppose he of treating the rest, he had wrotemeant pretty nearly the same thing.                   BRAvo!
There is bl, one difficulty in the way of -though not very offensively,-for it is at
tUtus coniecture, which is this, that the Mod- two inches, at least, and a half's distance
irato s are five times better than the So from, and below the concluding line of the
S's; —show ten times more knowledge of sermon, at the very extremity of the page,




OF TRISTRAMi SHANDY.


181


and in that right-hand corner of it, which, there remained nothing more in my uncle
you know, is generally covered with your Toby's hands than an old regimental coat,
thumb; and, to do it justice, it is wrote and a sword; so that my uncle Toby found
besides with a crow's quill so faintly in a little or no opposition from  the world in
small Italian hand, as scarce to solicit the taking administration.' The coat my uncle
eye towards the place, whether your thumb Toby gave the Corporal.-Wear it, Trim
is there or not;-so that, from the manner said my uncle Toby, as long as it will hold
of it, it stands half excused; and being together, for the sake of the poor lieutenwrote, moreover, with very pale ink, diluted ant.-And  this,-said my uncle Toby,
almost to nothing,-'tis more like the ri- taking up the sword in his hand, and drawtratto of the shadow of vanity, than of VAN- ing it out of the scabbard as he spoke,-and
ITY herself-of the two; resembling rather this, Le Fevre, I'll save for thee:-'tis all
a faint thought of transient applause, se- the fortune, continued myuncle Toby, hangcretly stirring up in the heart of the com- ing it upon a crook, and pointing to it,-'tis
poser, than a gross mark of it, coarsely ob- all the fortune, my dear Le Fevre, which
truded upon the world.                 God has left thee; but if he has given thee
With all these extenuations, I am aware, a heart to fight thy way with it in the
that in publishing this, I do no service to world,-and thou doest it like a man of
Yorick's character as a modest man;-but honor,-'tis enough for us.
all men have their failings; and what lessens  As soon as my uncle Toby had laid a
this still farther, and almost wipes it away, foundation and taught him to inscribe a
is this, that the word was struck through regular polygon in a circle, he sent him to
some time afterwards (as appears from a a public school, where, excepting Whitsundifferent tint of the ink) with a line quite tide and Christmas, at which times the Coracross it in this manner,  a'. -as if he poral was punctually dispatched for him,had retracted, or was ashamed of the opin- he remained to the spring of the year sevenion he had once entertained of it.    teen; when the stories of the Emperor's
These short characters of his sermons sending his army into Hungary, against the
were always written, excepting in this one Turks, kindling a spark of fire in his bosom.
instance, upon the first leaf of his sermon, he left his Greek and Latin without leave,
which served as a cover to it; and usually and throwing himself upon his knees before
upon the inside of it, which was turned my uncle Toby, begged his father's sword,
toward the text;-but at the end of his and my uncle Toby's leave along with it,
discourse, where, perhaps, he had five or to go and try his fortune under Eugene.six pages, and sometimes, perhaps, a whole Twice did my uncle Toby forget his wound,
score to turn himself in,-he took a larger and cry out, Le Fevre! I will go with thee,
circuit, and indeed a much more mettle- and thou shalt fight beside me,-and twice
some one;-as if he had snatched the occa- he laid his hand upon his groin, and hung
sion of unlacing himself with a few more down his head in sorrow and disconsolafrolicsome strokes at vice, than the strait- tion.ness of the pulpit allowed.-These, though  My uncle Toby took down the sword
hussar-like they skirmish lightly, and out from the crook, where it had hung untouchof all order, are still auxiliaries on the side ed ever since the lieutenant's death, and
of virtue;-tell me, then, Mynheer Vander delivered it to the Corporal to brighten up;
Blonederdondergewdenstronke, why they -and having detained Le Fevre a single
should not be printed together        fortnight to equip him, and contract for his
passage to Leghorn,-he put the sword into
his hands.-If thou art brave, Le Fevre.
CHAP. XII.               said my uncle Toby, this will not fail thee,
-but Fortune, said he, (musing a little) —WHEN my uncle Toby had turned every Fortune may:-And if she does-added my
thing into money, and settled all accounts be- uncle Toby, embracing him,-come back
twixt the agent of the regiment and Le Fe- again to me, Le Fevre, and we will shape
vre, and betwixt Le Fevre and all mankind, thee another course.
16




182


LIFE AND OPINIONS


The greatest injury could not have oppressed the heart of Le Fevre more than
my uncle Toby's paternal kindness;-he
parted from my uncle Toby, as the best of
sons from the best of fathers-both dropped
tears-and as my uncle Toby gave him his
last kiss, he slipped sixty guineas, tied up
in an old purse of his father's, in which was
his mother's ring, into his hand,-and bid
God bless him.
CHAP. XIII.
LE FEVRE got up to the Imperial army
just time enough to try what metal his
sword was made of, at the defeat of the
Turks before Belgrade; but a series of unmerited mischances had pursued him from
that moment, and trod close upon his heels
for four years together after. He had withstood these buffetings to the last, till sickness overtook him at Marseilles, from
whence he wrote my uncle Toby word, he
had lost his time, his services, his health,
and, ill short, every thing but his sword;and was waiting for the first ship to return
back to him.
As this letter came to hand about six
weeks before Susannah's accident, Le Fevre was hourly expected, and was uppermost in my uncle Toby's mind all the time
my father was giving him and Yorick a
description of what kind of a person he
would choose for a preceptor to me: but as
my uncle Toby thought my father at first
somewhat fanciful in the accomplishments
he required, he forbore mentioning Le Fevre's name-till the character, by Yorick's
interposition, ending, unexpectedly, in one
who should be gentle-tempered, and generous, and good, it impressed the image of
Le Fevre, and his interest, upon my uncle
Toby so forcibly, that he rose instantly off
his chair; and laying down his pipe, in order to take hold of both my father's hands
-I beg, brother Shandy, said my uncle
Toby, I may recommend poor Le Fevre's
son to you.-I beseech you do, added Yorick.-He has a good heart, said my uncle
Toby.-And a brave one too, an' please
vour Honor, said the Corporal.




-The best hearts, Trim, are ever the
bravest, replied my uncle Toby.-And the
greatest cowards, an' please your Honor,
in our regiment, were the greatest rascals
in it:-there was Serjeant Kumber, and
EnsignWe'll talk-of them, said my father, an
other time.
CHAP. XIV.
WHAT a jovial and a merry world would
this be, may it please your Worships, but
for that inextricable labyrinth of debts,
cares, woes, want, grief, discontent, melancholy, large jointures, impositions, and
lies!
Dr. Slop, like a son of a w-, as my
father called him for it,-to exalt himselfdebased me to death, and made ten thousand times more of Susannah's accident
than there was any grounds for; so that in
a week's time, or less, it was in every
body's mouth, that poor Master Shandy
* *   * *   * * * entirely-and FAME,
who loves to double every thing,-in three
days more, had sworn positively she saw it;
and all the world, as usual, gave credit to
her evidence-" That the nursery window
" had not only *   * * * *    * * *' L"* * *; but that *  * * *      * 
l   "* * *    *  *  *  *  *  also."'Could the world have been sued like a
BODY-CORPORATE,-my father had brought
an action upon the case, and trounced it
sufficiently; but, to fall foul of individuals
about it-as every soul who had mentioned
the affair, did it with the greatest pity
imaginable-'twas like flying in the very
face of his best friends:-and yet, to acquiesce under the report, in silence-was
to acknowledge it openly,-at least in the
opinion of one half of the world; and to
make a bustle again, in contradicting its was to confirm it as strongly in the opinion
of the other half.s  -Was ever poor devil of a country-gentleman so hampered? said my father.
I would show him publicly, said my uncle
Toby, at the market-cross.
-'Twill have no effect, said my father




OF TRISTRAM SHANDY.


183


CHAP. XV.
—'LL put him, however, into breeches, said my father, let the world say what
it will.
CHAP. XVI.
THERE are a thousand resolutions, Sir,
both in church and state, as well as in matters, Madam, of a more private concern,which, though they have carried all the
appearance in the world of being taken and
entered upon in a hasty, harebrained, and
unadvised manner, were, notwithstanding
this, (and could you or I have got into the
cabinet, or stood behind the curtain, we
should have found it was so) weighed,
poised, and perpended-argued upon-canvassed through-entered into, and examined on all sides with so much coolness,
that the GODDESS of COOLNESS herself (I do
not take upon me to prove her existence)
could neither have wished it, or done it
better.
Of the number of these was my father's
resolution of putting me into breeches;
which though determined at once-in a
kind of huff, and a defiance of all mankind,
had, nevertheless, been pro'd and con'd, and
judicially talked over betwixt him and my
mother about a month before, in two several
beds of justice, which my father had held
for that purpose. I shall explain the nature
of these beds of justice in my next chapter;
and, in the chapter following that, you shall
step with me, Madam, behind the curtain,
only to hear in what kind of manner my
father and my mother debated between
themselves this affair of the breeches, from
which you may form an idea how they debated all lesser matters.
CHAP. XVII.
THE ancient Goths of Germany, who (the
learned Cluverius is positive) were first
seated in the country between the Vistula
and the Oder, and who afterwards incorporated the Herculi, the Bugians, and some


other Vandalic clans to'em,'had all of
them a wise custom of debating every thing
of importance to their state, twice; that is,
once drunk, and once sober; drunk-that
their councils might not want vigor;-and
sober-that they might not want discretion
Now my father, being entirely a waterdrinker,-was a long time gravelled almost
to death, in turning this as much to his
advantage, as he did every other thing,
which the ancients did or said: and it was
not till the seventh year of his marriage,
after a thousand fruitless experiments and
devices, that he hit upon an expedient
which answered the purpose:-and that
was, when any difficult and momentous
point was to be settled in the family, which
required great sobriety, and great spirit
too, in its determination,-he fixed and set
apart the first Sunday night in the month,
and the Saturday night which immediately
preceded it, to argue it over in bed with
my mother: by which contrivance, if you
consider, Sir, with yourself, * * * * *
These my father, humorously enough,
called his beds of justice;-for, from the
two different counsels taken in these two
different humors, a middle one was generally found out, which touched the point of
wisdom as well as if he had got drunk and
sober an hundred times.
It must not be made a secret of to the
world, that this answers full as well in
literary discussions, as either in military or
conjugal; but it is not every author that
can try the experiment as the Goths and
Vandals did it-or, if he can, may it be
always for his body's health? and to do it,
as my father did it,-am I sure it would be
always for his soul's?
My way is this: —
In all nice and ticklish discussions,-(of
which, Heaven knows, there are but too
many in my book)-where I find I cannot
take a step without the danger of having
either their Worships or their Reverences
upon my back,-I write one half fill,-and
t'other fasting;-or write it all full and
correct it fasting; or write it fasting and
correct it full-for they all come to the
same thing.-So that, with a less variation
from my father's plan, than my father's
from the Gothic-I feel myself upon a par




.84


LIFE AND OPINIONS


with him in his first bed of justice, —and no
way inferior to him in his second.-These
different and almost irreconcilable effects,
flow uniformly from the wise and wonderful mechanism  of nature-of which-be
hers the honor.-All that we can do, is, to
turn and work the machine to the improvement and better manufactory of the arts
and sciences.Now, when I write full,-I write as if I
was never to write fasting again as long as
I live;-that is, I write free from the cares,
as well as the terrors of the world-I count
not the number of my scars, nor does my
fancy go forth into dark entries and bycorners to antedate my stabs.-In a word,
my pen takes its course; and I write on, as
much from the fullness of my heart as my
stomach.But when, an' please your Honors, I indite fasting,'tis a different story.-I pay the
world all possible attention and respect,and have as great a share (whilst it lasts)
of that understrapping virtue of discretion
as the best of you.-So that betwixt both,
I. write a careless kind of a civil, nonsensical, good-humored, Shandean book, which
will do all your hearts good.
-   And all your heads too,-provided
you understand it.
CHAP. XVIII.
WE should begin, said my father,(turning himself half round in bed, and shifting
his pillow a little towards my mother's, as
he opened the debate-we should begin to
think, Mrs. Shandy, of putting this boy
into breeches.We should so,-said my mother.-We
defer it, my dear, quoth my father, shamefully.I think we do, Mr. Shandy,-said my
mother.
-Not but the child looks extremely well,
said my father, in his vests and tunics.-He does look very well in them,-replied my mother.
-And for that reason it would be almost
a sin, added my father, to take him out of
em..t would so,-said my mother.-But, in

deed, he is growing a very tall lad, -re.
joined my father.
-He is very tall for his age, indeedsaid my mother.-I can not (making two syllables of it)
imagine, quoth my father, who the deuce
he takes after.1-cannot conceive, for my —ife,-said my
mother.Humph-!-said my father.
(The dialogue ceased for a: moment.)
-I am very short myself,-continued
my father, gravely.
You are very short, Mr. Shandy,-said
my mother.
Humph! quoth my father to himself, a
second time; in muttering which, he plucked
his pillow a little farther from my mother's
-and turning about again, there was an
end of the debate for three minutes and an
half.
-When he gets these breeches made,
cried my father, in a higher tone, he'll look
like a beast in'em.
lie will be very awkward in them at
first, replied my mother.
-And'twill be lucky, if that's the worst
on't, added my father.
It will be very lucky, answered my mother.
I suppose, replied my father,-making
some pause first-he'll be exactly like other
people's children.Exactly, said my mother.-Though I should be sorry for that,
added my father: and so the debate stopp'd
again.
-They should be of leather, said my
father, turning him about again.They will last him, said my mother, the
longest.
But he can have no linings to'em, replied my father.
He cannot, said my mother.'Twere better to have them of fustian,
quoth my father.
Nothing can be better, quoth my mother.-Except dimity, replied my father.-'Tis best of all,-replied my mother.-One must not give him his death,
however,-interrupted my fi ther.
By no means, said my mother.-+-And st
the dialogue stood still again.




OF TRISTRAM SHANDY.


185


I am resolved, however, quoth my father, 
breaking-silence the fourth time, he shall
have no pockets in them.
-There is no occasion for any,-said my
mother.
I mean, in his coat and waistcoat,-cried
my father.
-I mean so too,-replied my mother.
Though if he gets a gig or a top-poor
souls! it is a crown and a sceptre to them,
— they should have where to secure it.
Order it as you please, Mr. Shandy, replied my mother.
But don't you think it right? added my
father, pressing the point home to her.
Perfectly, said my mother, if it pleases
you, Mr. Shandy.-There's for you! cried my father, losing
temper.-Pleases me!-You never will distinguish, Mrs. Shandy, nor shall I ever
teach you to do it, betwixt a point of pleasure and a point of convenience. —-This was
on theu.. Snd yn-ight —and farther this
chapter sayeth not. )
CHAP. XIX.
AFTER my father had debated the affair
of the breeches with my mother,-he consulted Albertus Rubenius upon it; and Albertus Rubenius used my father ten times
worse in the consultation (if possible) than
even my father had used my mother; for as
Rubenius had wrote a quarto express, De
re Vestiaria Veterum,- it was Rubenius'
business to have given my father some
lights.-On the contrary, my father might
as well have thought of extracting the seven cardinal virtues out of a long beard, as
of extracting a single word out of Rubenius
upon the subject.
Upon every other article of ancient dress,
Rubenius was very communicative to my
father; he gave him a full and satisfactory
account of
The Toga, or loose gown.
The Chlamys.
The Ephod.
The Tunica, or Jacket.
The Synthesis.
The Ptenula.
The Lacerna, with its Cucullus.
Y


The Paludamentum.
The Prtetexta.
The Sagum, or soldier's jerkin.
The Trabea; of which, according to
Suetonius, there were three kinds —
-But what are all these to the breeches.
said my father.
Rubenius threw him down upon the
counter all kinds of shoes which had been
in fashion with the Romans.-There was,
The open shoe.
The close shoe.
The slip shoe.
The wooden shoe.
The sock.
The buskin.
And The military shoe with hob
nails in it, which Juvenal takes
notice of.
There were, The clogs.
The pattens.
The pantoufles.
The brogues.
The sandals, with latch 3s to
them.
There was, The felt shoe.
The linen shoe.
The braided shoe.
The laced shoe.
The calceus insisus.
And The calceus rostratus.
Rubenius showed my father how well they
all fitted,-in what manner they laceQdn,
-with what points, straps, thongs,:atchets,
ribbons, jaggs, and ends..
-But I want to be informed about the
breeches, said my father.Albertus Rubenius informed my father
that the Romans manufactured stuffs of various fabrics:-some plain,-some striped,
-others diapered throughout the whole
contexture of the wool, with silk and gold:
-That linen did not begin to be in comnmon use till towards the declension of tht
empire, when the Egyptians, coming to set
tie amongst them, brought it into vogue.
-That persons of quality and fortune
distinguished themselves by the fineness
and whiteness of their clothes: which color
(next to purple, which was appropriated to
the great officers) they most affected ant
wore on their birth-days anu public rejoi,;
ings:-That it appeared from the best historians of those times, that they frequentl16*




186                       LIFE AND OPINIONS
sent their clothes to the fuller, to be clean'd
and whitened:-but that the inferior peo-  IF the rea,
pie, to avoid that expense, generally wore of the rood a
brown clothes, and of a something coarser at the botton
texture-till towards the beginning of Au- garden, and 
gustus's reign, when the slave dressed like of his delicic
his master, and almost every distinction of me, but in h
habiliment was lost, but the Latus Clavus. I gave him 
And what was the Latus Clavus? said almost ashan
my father.                               When Fa,
Rubenius told him, that the point was ternoon, into
still litigating amongst the learned;-that times,-and
Egnatius, Sigonius, Bossius, Ticinensis, this little plc
Baysius, Budmeus, Salmasius, Lipsius, Lizi- in iron, had
us, Isaac Causabon, and Joseph Scaliger, all nod to Natz
differed from each other,-and he from threw half a
them:-That some took it to be the button; post upon it,
-some the coat itself; -others only the to retain the
color of it:-That the great Baysius, in his -and so l-i
Wardrobe of the Ancients, chap. 12,-hon- the spade, E
estly said, he knew not what it was,- glory, nasty
whether a tribula,-a stud,-a button,-a   My uncle
loop,-a buckle,-or clasps and keepers.- has been in
My father lost the horse, but not the sad- him, of almc
dle.-They are hooks and eyes, said my and Flander
father-and with hooks and eyes he ordered rough, or th
my breeches to be made.               what town
was prepare
His way,
the world,
CHAP. XX.                town was i
design was
WE are now going to enter upon a new (let it be wl
scene of events.                      it upon a sc
Leave we then the breeches in the taylor's ing-green;
hands, with my father standing over him means of a i
with his cane, reading him as he sat at work number of
a lecture upon the latus clavus, and pointing ground, at 1
to the precise part of the waistband where he transferr,
he was determined to have it sewed on.  taking the
Leave we my mother-(truest of all the works, to d(
Pococurantes of her sex!)-careless about of the ditch,
it, as about every thing else in the world the precise I
which concerned her;-that is,-indifferent parapets, &<
whether it was done this way or that,- and sweetly
providing it was but done at all.     soil,-the n
Leave we Slop likewise to the full profits above all,
of all my dishonors.                  Toby, sittint
Leavt we poor Le Fevre to recover, and chatting kin
get home from Marseilles as he can:-and done deedslast of all,-because the hardest of-all,  ceremony o:
Let us leave, if possible, myself:-but  When th
t!s impossible,-I must go along with you manner, an,. the end of the work.                defence,-if


CHAP. XXI.
der has not a clear conception,nd a half of ground which lay
n of my uncle Toby s kitchenvhich was the scene of so many
)us hours,-the fault is not in
is imagination; for I am sure
so minute a description, I was
ned of it.
te was looking forwards one afthe great transactions of future
recollected for what purposes
At, by a decree fast bound down
I been destined, —she gave a
re:-'twas enough - Nature
spadefull of her kindliest comwith just so much clay in it, as
forms of angles and indentings,
ttle of it too, as not to cling to
tnd render works of so much
in foul weather.
Toby came down, as the reader
formed, with plans along with
)st every fortified town in Italy
s; so, let the Duke of Marlboie allies, have set down before
they pleased, my uncle Toby'd for them.
which was the simplest one in
was this:-As'soon as ever a
nvested, (but sooner when the
known) to take the plan of it
iat town it would) and enlarge
ale to the exact size of his bowlupon the surface of which, by
large roll of pack-thread, and a
small piquets driven into the
the several angles, and redans,
ed the lines from his paper; then
profile of the place, with its
Atermine the depths and slopes
es,-the talus of the glacis, and
leight of the several banquettes,
s.-he set the Corporal to work;
went it on.-The nature of the
lature of the work itself,-and,
the good-nature of my uncle
g by from morning to night, and
idly with the Corporal upon past-left labor little else but the
f the name.
te place was finished in this
d put into a proper posture of
t was invested;-and my uncle








OF TRISTRAM SHANDY.


187


Toby and the Corporal began to run their
first parallel.-I beg I may not be interrupted in my story, by being told, That the
first parallel should be at least three hundred toises distant from the main body of
the place,-and that I have not left a single
inch for it;-for my uncle Toby took the
liberty of encroaching upon his kitchengarden, for the sake of enlarging his works
on the bowling-green; and for that reason
generally ran his first and second parallels
betwixt two rows of his cabbages and his
cauliflowers: the conveniencies and inconveniencies of which will be considered at
large in the history of my uncle Toby's and
the Corporal's campaigns, of which this I'm
now writing is but a sketch, and will be
finished, if I conjecture right, in three pages
(but there is no guessing).-The campaigns
themselves will take up as many books;
and therefore I apprehend it would be
hanging too great a weight of one kind of
matter in so flimsy a performance as this,
to rhapsodize them, as I once intended, into
the body of the work;-surely they had
better be printed apart.-We'll consider
the affair;-so take the following sketch of
them in the mean time:
CHAP. XXII.
WHEN the town, with its works, was
finished, my uncle Toby and the Corporal
began to run their first parallel, not at random, or any how, —but from the same
points and distances the allies had begun
to run theirs; and regulating their approaches and attacks by the accounts my
uncle Toby received from the daily papers,
-they went on during the whole siege,
step by step, with the allies.
When the Duke of Marlborough made a
lodgment,-my uncle Toby made a lodgment too:-and when the face of a bastion
was battered down, or a defence ruined,the Corporal took his mattock and did as
much,-and so on; —gaining ground and
making themselves masters of the works,
one after another, till the town fell into
tneir hands.
To one who took pleasure in the happy
state of others, there could not have been
a greater sight in the world than on a post


morning, in which a practicable breach had
been made by the Duke of-Marlborough in
the main body of the place,-to have stood
behind the horn-beam hedge, and observed
the spirit with which my uncle Toby, with
Trim behind him, sallied forth;-the cGe
with the Gazette in his hand,-the other
with a spade on his shoulder to execute the
contents.-What an honest triumph in my
uncle Toby's looks, as he marched up to
the ramparts! what intense pleasure swimming in his eye, as he stood over the Corporal, reading the paragraph ten times over
to him, as he was at work, lest, peradventure, he should make the breach an inch
too wide,-or leave it an inch too narrow!
-But when the chamade was beat. and the
Corporal helped my uncle up it, and followed with the colors in his hand, to fix
them upon the ramparts, Heaven! Earth!
Sea!-but what avail apostrophes?-with
all your elements, wet or dry, you never
compounded so intoxicating a draught.
In this track of happiness for many years,
without one interruption to it, except now
and then when the wind continued tovblow
due west for a week or ten days together,
which detained the Flanders mail, and kept
them so long in torture, but still'twas the
torture of the happy:-in this track, I say,
did my uncle Toby and Trim move for many
years, every year of which, and sometimes
every month, from the invention of either
the one or the other of them, adding some
new conceit or quirk of improvement to
their operations, which always opened fresh
spiings of delight in carrying them on.
The first year's campaign was carried on,
from beginning to end, in the plain and
simple method I've related.
In the second year, in which my uncle
Toby took Liege and Ruremond, he thought
he might afford the expense of four handsome draw-bridges; of two of which 1 have
given an exact description in the former
part of my work.
At the latter end of the same year, he
added a couple of gates with portcullises:
-these last were converted afterwards into
orgues, as the better thing; and during the
winter of the same year, my uncle Toby,
instead of a new suit of clothes, which he
always had at Christmas treated himself
with a handsome sentry-box, to stand at tne




188


LIFE AND OPINIONS


corner of the bowling-green, betwixt which
point and the foot of the glacis, there was
left a little kind of an esplanade, for him and
the Corporal to confer and hold councils of
war upon.
The sentry-box was in case of rain.
All these were painted white three times
over the ensuing spring, which enabled
my uncle Toby to take the field with great
splendor.
My father would often say to Yorick,
that if any mortal in the whole universe
had done such a thing except his brother
Toby, it would have been looked upon by
the world as one of the most refined satires
upon the parade and prancing manner in
which Louis XIV. from the beginning of
the war, but particularly that very year,
had taken the field.-But'tis not in my
brother Toby's nature, kind soul! my father
would add, to insult any one.
-But let us go on.
CHAP. XXIII.
I MUST observe, that although in the first
year's campaign, the word town is often
mentioned,-yet there was no town at that
time within the polygon; that addition was
not made till the summer following, the
spring in which the bridges and sentry-box
were painted, which was the third year of
my uncle Toby's campaigns,-when, upon
his taking Amberg, Bonn, and Rhinberg,
and Huy and Limbourg, one after another,
a thought came into the Corporal's head,
that to talk of taking so many towns, without one town to show for it,-was a very
nonsensical way of going to work; and so
proposed to my uncle Toby, that they should
have a little model of a town built for them,
-to be run up together, of slit deals, and
then painted, and clapped within the interior
polygon to serve for all.
My uncle Toby felt the good of the project instantly, and instantly agreed to it;
but with the addition of two singular improvements, of which he was almost as
proud, as if he had been the original in-ventor of the project itself.
The one was, to have the town built
exactly in the style of those of which it
was most likely to be the representative;




-with grated windows, and the gable-ends
of the houses facing the streets, &c. &c.as those in Ghent and Bruges, and the rest
of the towns in Brabant and Flanders.
The other was, not to have the houses run
up together, as the Corporal proposed, but
to have every house independent, to hook
on, or off, so as to form into the plan of
whatever town they pleased.-This was
put directly into hand; and many and many
a look of mutual congratulation was exchanged between my uncle Toby and the
Corporal, as the carpenter did the work.
It answered prodigiously the next summer;-the town was a perfect Proteus.-It
was Landen, and Trerebach, and Stantvliet,
and Drusen, and Hagenau;-and then it
was Ostend, and Menin, and Aeth, and
Dendermond.
-Surely never did any TOWN act so
many parts, since Sodom and Gomorrah, as
my uncle Toby's town did.
In the fourth year, my uncle Toby, thinking a town looked foolishly without a church,
added a very fine one with a steeple.-Trim
was for having bells in it. —My uncle
Toby said, the metal had better be cast into
cannon.
This led the way, the next campaign,
for half a dozen brass field-pieces,-to be
planted three and three, on each side of
my uncle Toby's sentry-box; and, in a short
time, these led the way for a train somewhat larger,-and so on-(as must always
be the case in hobby-horsical affairs) from
pieces of half an inch bore, till it came at
last to my father's jack-boots.
The next year, which was that in which
Lisle was besieged, and at the close of which
both Ghent and Bruges fell into our hands,
-my uncle Toby was sadly put to it for
proper ammunition: I say proper ammunition,-because his great artillery would not
bear powder;-and'twas well for the Shandy family they would not.-For so full were
the papers, from the beginning to the end
of the siege, of the incessant firings kept up
by the besiegers;-and so heated was my
uncle Toby's imagination with the accounts
of them, that he had infallibly shot away all
his estate.
Something therefore was wanting, as a
succedaneum, especially in one or two of
the nore violent paroxysms of the siege, to




OF TRISTRAM SHANDY.


189


keep up something like a continual firi ig
in the imagination,-and this something
the Corporal, whose principal strength lay
in invention, supplied by an entire new
system of battering of his own,-without
which, this, had been objected to by military
critics, to the end of the world, as one of
the great desiderata of my uncle Toby's
apparatus.
This will not be explained the worse, for
setting off, as I generally do, at a little distance from the subject.
CHAP. XXIV.
WITH tWO or three other trinkets, small
ill themselves, but of great regard, which
poor Tom, the Corporal's unfortunate brother, had sent him over, with the account of
his marriage with the Jew's widow,-there
was


the giver,-so seldom or never put it on but
upon GALA days; and yet never was a
Montero-cap put to so many uses; for in all
controverted points, whether military or culinary, provided the Corporal was sure he
was in the right,-it was either his oath,his wager,-or his gift.
--'Twas his gift in the present case.
I'll be bound, said the Corporal, speaking
to himself, to give away my Montero-cap
to the first beggar who comes to the door,
if I do not manage this matter to his Honor's
satisfaction.
The completion was no farther off, tha4
the very next morning; which was that of
the storm of the counterscarp betwixt the
Lower Deule, to the right, and the gate of
St. Andrew; —and, on the left, between St.
Magdalen's and the river.
As this was the most memorable attack
in the whole war,-the most gallant and
obstinate on both sides,-and, I must add,
the most bloody too, (for it cost the allies




A Montero-cap and two Turkish tobacco- themselves that morning above eleven hunpipes.                                dred men),-my uncle Toby prepared himThe Montero-cap I shall describe by and self for it with a more than ordinary soby.-The Turkish tobacco-pipes had noth- lemnity,
ing particular in them,; they were fitted up  The eve which preceded, as my uncle
and ornamented as usual, with flexible tubes Toby went to bed, he ordered his Ramillie
of Morocco leather and gold wire, and wig, which had lain, inside out, for many
mounted at their ends, the one of them with years, in the corner of an old campaigning
ivory,-the other with black ebony, tipp'd trunk, which stood by his bed-side, to be
with silver.                          taken out and laid upon the lid of it, ready
My father, who saw all things in lights for the morning;-and the very first thing
different from the rest of the world, would lie did, in his shirt, when he had stepped
say to the Corporal, that he ought to look oit of bed, my uncle Toby, after he had
upon these two presents more as tokens of turned the rough side outwards,-put it on.
his brother's nicety than his affection. —-This done, he proceeded next to his
Tom did not care, Trim, he would say, to breeches; and having buttoned the waistput on the cap, or to smoke in the tobacco- band, he forthwith buckled on his swordpipe of a Jew.   God bless your Honor, belt, and had got his sword half-way in,the Corporal would say, (giving a strong when he considered he should want shavreason to the contrary)-how can that be? ing, and that it would be but very inconveThe Montero-cap was scarlet, of a super- nient doing it with his sword on,-so took it
fine Spanish cloth, dyed in grain, and off.-In essaying to put on his regimental
mounted all round with fur, except about coat and waistcoat, my uncle Toby found the
four inches in the front, which was faced same objection in his wig,-so that went.
with a light blue, slightly embroidered; and off too:-so that, what with one tl!ing and
seemed to have been the property of a Por- what with another, as it always falls out
tuguese quarter-master, not of foot, but of when a man is in the most haste, —'twas
horse, as the word denotes.           ten o'clock, which was half an hour later
The Corporal was not a little proud of it, than his usual time, before my uncle Toby
as well foz its own sake, as for the sake of sallied out.




190


LIFE ANDI OP]INIONS


CHAP. XXV.                 wl at corner of the world shall I seek thy
fellow 
MY uncle Toby had scarce turned the    -Gracious powers! which erst have
corner of his yew-hedge, which separated opened the lips of the dumb in his distress,
his kitchen-garden from his bowling-green, and made the tongue of the stammerer
when he perceived the Corporal had begun speak plain,-when I shall arrive at this
the attack without him.-               dreaded page, deal not with me, then, with
Let me stop and give you a picture of the a stinted hand.
Corporal's apparatus, and of the Corporal
himself in the height of this attack, just
as it struck my uncle Toby, as he turned
towards the sentry-box, where the Corporal         CHAP. XXVI.
was at work,-for in Nature there is not
such another;-nor can any combination of  THE Corporal, who the night before had
all that is grotesque and whimsical in her resolved in his mind to supply the grand
works produce its equal.               desideratum, of keeping up something like
The corporal-                        an incessant firing upon the enemy during
Tread lightly on his ashes, ye men of the heat of the attack,-had no farther
genius,-for he was your kinsman:       idea in his fancy at that time, than a con.
Weed his grave clean, ye men of good- trivance of smoking tobacco against the
ness,-for he was your brother.-Oh, Cor- town, out of one of my uncle Toby's six
poral! had I thee, but now,-noxw, that I field-pieces, which were planted on each
am able to give thee a dinner and protec- side of his sentry-box; the means of effecttion,-how  would I cherish thee! thou ing which occurring to his fancy at the
should'st wear thy Montero-cap every hour same time, though he had pledged his cap,
of the day, and every day of the week;-  ho thought it in no danger from the misand when it was worn out, I would pur- carriage of his projects.
chase thee a couple like it.-But alas! alas!  Upon turning it this way and that a little
alas! now that I can do this, in spite of in his mind, he soon began to find out, that,
their Reverences,-the occasion is lost,- by means of his two Turkish tobacco-pipes,
for thou art gone:-thy genius fled up to with the supplement of three smaller tubes
the stars, from whence it came; —and that of wasL-]eather at each of their lower ends,
warm heart of thine, with all its generous to be tagg'd by the same number of tinand open vessels, compressed into a clod of pipes fitted to the touch-holes, and sealed
the valley!                            with clay next the cannon, and then tied
But what,-what is this, to that future hermetically with waxed silk at their
and dreaded page, where I look towards the several insertions into the morocco tabe,velvet pall, decorated with the military en- he should be able to fire the six field-pieces
signs of thy Master,-the first,-the fore- all together, and with the same ease as to
most of created beings; where,-I shall fire one.
see thee, faithful servant! laying his sword  -Let no man say from what tags and
and scabbard, with a trembling hand, across jaggs hints may not be cut out for the adhis coffin, and then returning pale as ashes vancement of human knowledge. Let no
to the door, to take his mourning-horse by man, who has read my father's first and
the bridle to follow his hearse, as he di- second beds of justice, ever rise up and say
lected thee:-where all my father's sys- again, from collision of what kinds of bodies
lems shall be baffled by his sorrows; and, light may or may not be struck out, to
in spite of his philosophy, I shall behold carry the Arts and Sciences up to perfecliim, as he inspects the lacquered plate, tion.-Heaven! thou knowest how I love
t wic -taking his spectacles, from off his nose, them;-thou knowest the secrets of my
to wipe away the dew which Nature has heart, and that I would this moment give
shed upon them.-When I see him cast in my shirt-   Thou art a fool, Shandy, says,he rosemary witn an air of disconsolation, Eugenius,-for thou hast but a dozen in the
which cries through ny ears,-O Toby! in world, and'twill break thy set.



OF TRISTRAMVi  SH-ANDY.


191


No matter for that, Eugenius; I would puff, into the very heignt of the attack, by
give the shirt off my back to be burnt into the time my uncle Toby joined him.
tinder, were it only to satisfy one feverish'Twas well for my father, that my uncle
inquirer. How many sparks, at one good Toby had not his will to make that day.
stroke, a good flint and steel could strike
into the tail of it.-Think ye not, that in
striking these in, —he might, peradventure,
strike somnething out?-as sure as a gun.        CHAP. XXVIII.


-DuLt u111 p1rUJUtCL Uy,le UyC.
The Corporal sat up the best part of the
night, in bringing his to perfection; and c
having made a sufficient proof of his cannon, I
with charging them to the top with tobacco,-he went with contentment to bed.  t


I
I
t


CHAP. XXVII.


THE Corporal had slipped out about ten E
minutes before my uncle Toby, in order to
fix his apparatus, and just give the enemy.
a shot or two before my uncle Toby came.
Ie had drawn the six field-piecesbfor
this end, all close up together in front of
my uncle Toby's sentry-box, leaving only
an interval of about a yard and a half betwixt the three, on the right and left, for
the convenience of charging, &c.-and the
sake, possibly, of two batteries, which he
might think double the honor of one.
In the rear, and facing this opening, with
his back to the door of his sentry-box, for
fear of being flanked, had the' Corporal
wisely taken his post.-He held the ivory
pipe appertaining to the battery on the
right, betwixt the finger and thumb of his
right hand: —and the ebony pipe tipp'd
with silver, which appertained to the battery on the left, betwixt the finger and
thumb of the other;-and with his right
knee fixed firm upon the ground, as if in
the front rank of his platoon, was the Corporal, with his Montero-cap upon his head,.
furiously playing off his two cross-batteries
at the same time against the counter-guard,
which faced the counterscarp, where the
attack was to be made that morning.? His
first intention, as I said, was no more than
giving the enemy a single puff or two;but the pleasure of the puffs, as well as
the puffing, had insensibly got hold of the
Corporal, and drawn -him on from:puff to


serious for a long time.-Give me hold of
the ivory pipe, Trim, said my uncle Toby.
-My uncle Toby put it to his lips,-drew
it back directly, —gave a peep over the
horn-beam, hed(re.-Never did my uncle
Toby's niouth water so much for a pipe' in
his life. —My uncle Toby retired into the
sentry-box with the pipe in his hand.-Dear uncle Toby! don't go into the
sentry-box with the pipe;-there's no trusting a man's self with such a thing in such
a corner.
CHAP. XXIX.
IBEG the reader will assist me here, to
wheel off my uncle Toby's ordnance behind
the scenes;-to remove his sentry-box, and
clear the theatre, if possible, of horn-works
and alf-moons, and get the rest of'his
military apparatus out of the way; -that
done, my dear friend Garrick, we'll snuff
the candles bright, sweep the sta e with a
newbroom,-draw up the curtain, -and ex.
hibit my uncle Toby dressed in a  new
character, througbo'ut which the world can
have no idea how he will act: and yet, if
pity be akin to love,-and bravery no alien
to it,'ou. have seen enough of my unclo
Toby in these, to'! trace these family Jiktnesses betwixt the two passions (in ca.,-A,,there is one) to your heart's content.


MY uncle Toby took the ivory pipe out
)f the Corporal's hand;-looked at it for
ialf a minute, and returned it.
In less than two minutes, my uncle Toby
took the pipe from the Corporal again, and
*aised it halfway to his mouth, - then
hastily gave it back a. second time.
The Corporal redoubled the attack;my uncle Toby smiled, —then looked grave,
-then smiled for a moment,-then looked
serious for a long time.-Give me hold of
the ivory pipe, Trim, said my uncle Toby.
-My uncle Toby put it to his lips,-drew
it back directly, —gave a peep over the
horn-beam  hedge.-Never did my uncle
Toby's nmouth water so much for a pipe in
his life. —My uncle Toby retired into the
sentry-box with the pipe in his hand.-Dear uncle Toby! don't go into the
sentry-box with the pipe; —there's no trusting a man's self with such a thing in such
a corner.
CHAP. XXIX.
I BEGI the reader will assist me here, to
wheel off my uncle Toby's ordnance behind
the scenes; —to remove his sentry-box, and
clear the theatre, if possible, of horn-works
and half-moons, and get the rest of his
military apparatus out of the way; - that
done, my dear friend Garrick, we'll snuff
the candles bright, sweep the stage with a
new broom, —draw up the curtain, and exhibit my uncle Toby dressed in a- new
character, throughout which the world can
have no idea how he will act: and yet, if
pity be akin to love,-and bravery no alien
to it, you have seen enough of my uncle
Toby in these, to trace these family likte~
nesses betwixt the two passions (in cas.,
there is one) to your heart's content.




192


LIFE AND OPINIONS


Vain science! thou assistest us in no
case of this kind,-and thou puzzlest us in
every one.
There was, Madam, in my uncle Toby,


a singleness of heart, which misled him so
f-ar out of the little serpentine tracks in
which things of this nature usually go on,
you can-you can have-no conception of it:
with this, there was a plainness and simplicity of thinking, with such an unmistrusting ignorance of the plies and foldings
of the heart of woman;-and so naked and
defenceless did he stand before you (when
a siege was out of his head) that you might
lhave stood behind any one of your serpentine walks, and shot my uncle Toby, ten
times in a day, through his liver; if nine
times in a day, Madam, had not served
your purpose.
With all this, Madam,-and what confounded every thing as much on the other
hand, my uncle Toby had that unparalleled
modesty of nature I once told you of, and
which, by the bye, stood eternal sentry
upon his feelings, that you might as soon
But where am I goingl These reflections crowd in upon me ten pages at least
too soon, and take up that time which I
ought to bestow upon facts.
CHAP. XXX.
OF the few legitimate sons of Adam,
whose breasts never felt what the sting of
love was-(maintaining first all misogynists
to be bastards)-the greatest heroes of ancient and modern story have carried off
amongst them nine parts in ten of the
honor; and I wish, for their sakes, I had
the key of my study, out of the draw-well,
only for five minutes, to tell you their
names;-recollect them I cannot,-so be
content to accept of these, for the present,
ut tneir stead.
There was the great king Aldrovandus,
and bosphorus, and Cappadocius, and Darda~ us, and Pontus,, and Asius,-to say nothing
of the iroti-nearted Charles the XIIth, whom
the Countess of K***** herself could make
nothing of.-There was Babylonicus, and
Mediterraneus, and Polixenes, and Persi-,.. and Prusicus; not one of whom (ex

cept Cappadocius and Pontus, who were
both a little suspected) ever once bowed
down his breast to the goddess.-The truth
is, they had all of them something else to
do;-and sohhad my uncle Toby,-till Fate,
-till Fate, I say, envying his name the
glory of being handed down to posterity
with Aldrovandus's and the rest,-she
basely patched up the peace of Utrecht.
-Believe me, Sirs,'twas the worst deed
she did that year.
I


CHAP. XXXI.
AMONGST the many ill consequences of
the treaty of Utrecht, it was within a point
of giving my uncle Toby a surfeit of sieges;
and though he recovered his appetite afterwards, yet Calais itself left not a deeper
scar in Mary's heart, than Utrecht upon
my uncle Toby's. To the end of his life
he never could hear Utrecht mentioned
upon any account whatever,-or so much
as read an article of news extracted out of
the Utrecht Gazette, without fetching a
sigh, as if his heart would break in twain.
My father, who was a great motive-monger, and consequently a very dangerous
person for a man to sit by, either laughing
or crying,-for he. generally knew your
motive for doing both, much better than
you knew it yourself,-would always console my uncle Toby upon these occasions,
in a way which showed plainly he imagined
my uncle Toby grieved for nothing in the
whole affair, so much as the loss of his
HOBBY-HORSE.-Never mind, brother Toby,
he would say,-by God's blessing, we shall
have another war break out again some of
these days; and when it does, the belligerent powers, if they would hang themselves,
cannot keep us out of play.-I defy'em,
my dear Toby, he would add, to take countries without taking towns, - or towns
without sieges.
My uncle Toby never took this backstroke of my father's at his HOBBY-HORSE
kindly.-He thought the stroke ungenerous; and the more so, because in striking
the horse he hit the rider too, and in the
most dishonorable part a blow could fall; so
that, upon these occasions, he alvlav- laid




OF TRISTRAM SHANDY.


193


down his pipe upon the table with more
fire to defend himself than common.
I told the reader, this time two years,
that my uncle Toby was not eloquent; and
n the very same page gave an instance to
the contrary.-I repeat the observation, and
a fact which contradicts it again. —e was
not eloquent,-it was not easy to my uncle
Toby to make long harangues,-and he
hated florid ones; but there were occasions
where the stream overflowed the man, and
ran so counter to its usual course, that in
some parts, my uncle Toby, for a time, was
at least equal to Tertullus;-but in others,
in my own opinion, infinitely above him.
My father was so highly pleased with one
of these apologetical orations of my uncle
Toby, which he had delivered one evening
before him and Yorick, that lie wrote it down
before he went to bed.
I have had the good fortune to meet with
it amongst my father's papers, with here
and there an insertion of his own, betwixt
two crooks, thus, [ ], and is indorsed,
My brother Toby's justification of his own
principles and conduct in wishing to continue the war.
I may safely say, I have read over this
apologetical oration of my uncle Toby's a
hundred times; and think it so fine a model
of defence, and shows so sweet a temperament of gallantry and good principles in
him, that I give it the world, word for word
(interlineations and all) as I find it.
CHAP. XXXII.
MY UNCLE TOBY'S APOLOGETICAL ORATION.
I AM not insensible, brolher Shandy, that
when a man, whose profession is arms,
wishes, as I have done, for war, it has an
ill aspect to the world:-and that, how just
and right soever his motives and intentions
may be,-he stands in an uneasy posture
in vindicating himself from private views
in doing it.
For this cause, if a soldier is a prudent
man, which he may be without being a jot
the less brave, he will be. sure not to utter
his wish in the hearing of an enemy; for
say what he wil, an enemy will not believe
him.-Ie will be cautious of doing it even
Z


to a friend,-lest he may suffer in his
esteem; but if his heart is overcharged, and
a secret sigh for arms must have its vent, he
will reserve it for the ear of a brother, who
knows his character to the bottom, and what
his true notions, dispositions, and principles
of honor are. What, I hope, I have been ill
all these, brother Shandy, would be unbecoming in me to say:-much worse, I know,
have I been than I ought,-and something
worse, perhaps, than I think: but such as I
am, you, my dear brother Shandy, who have
sucked the same breasts with me,-and with
whom I have been brought up from my
cradle,-and from whose knowledge, from
the first hours of our boyish pastimes, down
to this, I have concealed no one action of
my life, and scarce a thought in it; —such
as I am, brother, you must, by this time,
know me, with all my vices, and with all
my weaknesses too, whether of my age, my
temper, my passions, or my understanding.
Tell me then, my dear brother Shandy,
upon which of them it is, that when I condemned the peace of Utrecht, and grieved
the war was not carried on with vigor a
little longer, you should think your brothel
did it upon unworthy views; or that, in
wishing for war, he should be bad enough
to wish more of his fellow-creatures slain,
-more slaves made,-and more families
driven from their peaceful habitations,
merely for his own pleasure.-Tell me, brother Shandy, upon what one deed of mine
do you ground it,.- [The devil a deed do
I know of, dear Toby, but one for an hundred pounds, which I lent thee to carry on
these cursed sieges.]
If, when I was a school-boy, I could not
hear a drum beat, but my heart beat with
it, —was'it my fault?-Did I plant the propensity there?-Did I sound the alarm
within, or Nature.
When Guy, Earl of Warwick, and Paris
mus and Parismenus, and Valentine and
Orson, and the Seven Champions of England, were handed around the school,were they not all purchased with my own
pocket-money? —Was that selfish, brother
Shandy -When we read over the siege
of Troy, which lasted ten years and eight
months,-though with such a train of artillery as we had at Namur, the town might
have been carried in a weex - -was I not'
17




194


LIFE AND OPINIONS


much concerned for the destruction of the
Greeks and Trojans as any boy of the
whole school?-Had I not three strokes of
a ferula given me, two on my right hand,
and one on my left, for calling Helena a
bitch for it?-Did any one of you shed more
tears for Hector?-And when king Priam
came to the camp to beg his body, and returned weeping back to Troy without it,you know, brother, I could not eat my dinner.
-   Did that bespeak me cruel?-Or because, brother Shandy, my blood flew out
into the camp, and my heart panted for war,
-was it a proof it could not ache for the
distresses of war too?
0 brother!'tis one thing for a soldier to
gather laurels,-and'tis another to scatter
cypress.-[ TWho told thee, my dear Toby,
that cypress was used by the ancients on
mournful occasions?]-'Tis one thing, brother Shandy, for a
soldier to hazard his own life,-to leap first
down into the trench, where he is sure to
be cut in pieces:-'Tis one thing, from
public spirit and a thirst of glory, to enter
the breach the first man, to stand in the
foremost rank, and march bravely on with
drums and trumpets, and colors flying about
his ears:-'Tis one thing, I say, brother
Shandy, to do this;-and'tis another thing
to reflect on the miseries of war;-to view
the desolations of whole countries, and consider the intolerable fatigues and hardships
which the soldier himself, the instrument
who works them, is forced (for sixpence a
day, if he can get it) to undergo.
Need I be told, dear Yorick, as I was by
you in Le Fevre's funeral sermon, That so
soft and gentle a creature, born to love, to
mercy, and kindness, as man is, was not
shaped for this — But why did you not add,
Yorick,-if not by Nature-that he is so
Ly Necessity?-For what is war what is
it, Yorick, when foughc, as ours has been,
upon principles of liberty, and upon principles of honor?-what is it, but the getting
together of quiet and harmless people, with
their swords in their hands, to keep the
ambitious and the turbulent within bounds?
-- And Heaven is my witness, brother
Shandy, that the pleasure I have taken in
these things,-and that infinite delight, in
narticular, which has attended my sieges


in my bowling-green, has arose within me,
and I hope in the Corporal too, from the'
consciousness we both had, that, in carrying them on, we were answering the great
end of our creation.
CHAP. X.XIII.
I TOLD the christian reader;-I say
christian, -hoping he is one;-and if he
is not, I am sorry for it,-and only beg he
will consider the matter with himself, and
not lay the blame entirely upon this book;I told him, Sir,-for in good truth, when
a man is telling a story in the strange way
I do mine, he is obliged continually to be
going backwards and forwards to keep all
tight together in the reader's fancy;-which,
for my own part, if I did not take heed to
do more than at first, there is so much unfixed and equivocal matter starting up, with
so many breaks and gaps in it,-and so little
service do the stars afford, which nevertheless I hang up in some of the darkest
passages, knowing that the world is apt to
lose its way, with all the lights the sun
itself at noon-day can give it,-and now you
see, I'm lost myself!
But'tis my father's fault; and whenever
my brains come to be dissected, you will
perceive, without spectacles, that he has
left a large uneven thread, as you sometimes see in an unsaleable piece of cambric,
running along the whole length of the web,
and so untowardly, you cannot so much as
cut out a * *, (here I hang up a couple of
lights again)-or a fillet, or a thumb-stall,
but it is seen or feltQuanto id diligentius in liberis procreandis cavendum, sayeth Carden. —All
which being considered, and that you see'tis morally impracticable for me to wind
this round to where I set out,-I begin the
chapter over again.
CHAP. XXXIII.
I TOLD the christian reader, in the beginning of the chapter which preceded my
uncle Toby's apologetical oration,-though




OF TRISTRAM SIIANDY.


195


r'p a different troDe from what I shall make
use of now, That the peace of Utrecht was
within an ace of creating the same shyness
betwixt my uncle Toby and his Hobbyhorse, as it did betwixt the Queen and the
rest of the confederating powers.
There is an indignant way in which a
man sometimes dismounts his horse, which
as good as says to him, "I'll go afoot, Sir,
"all the days of my life, before I would
"ride a single mile upon your back again."
Now, my uncle Toby could not be said to
dismount his horse in this manner; for, in
strictness of language, he could not be said
to dismount his horse at all,-his horse
rather flung him,-and somewhat viciously,
which made my uncle Toby take it ten
times more unkindly. Let this matter be
settled by state jockeys as they like; —it
created, I say, a sort of shyness betwixt
my uncle Toby and his Hobby-horse:-He
had no occasion for him from the month of
March to November, which was the summer.
after the articles were signed, except it was
now and then to take a short ride out, just
to see that the fortifications and harbor of
Dunkirk were demolished, according to
stipulation.
The French were- so backward all that
summer in setting about that affair; and
Monsieur Tugghe, the deputy from the
magistrates of Dunkirk, presented so many
affecting petitions to the Queen, beseeching
her Majesty to cause. only her thunderbolts
to fall upon the martial works which-might
nave incurred her displeasure,-but tospare,
-to spare the mole, for the mole's sake;
which, in its naked situation, could be no
more than an object of pity; -and the
Queen (who was but a woman) beingof a
pitiful disposition,-and her ministers also,
they not wishing in their hearts to have
the town dismantled, for these private reasons,  *       * *     *     *    *
*    *    *    *    *     *    *    *
"*  -*    *    *    *     *; so that
the whole went heavily on with my uncle
Toby; insomuch, that it was not within
three full months, after he and the Corporal
had constructed the town, and put it in a
condition to be destroyed, that the several
commandants, commissaries, deputies, negotiators, and intendants, would permit


him to set about it.-Fatal, interval of in
activityl
The Corporal was for beginning the demolition, by making a breach in the ramparts, or main fortifications of the town.,
No-;-that will never do, Corporal, said my
uncle Toby; for, in going that way to work
with the town, the English garrison will
Dot be safe in it an hour; because, if the
French are treacherous,'They are, as
treacherous as Devils, an' please your
Honor, said the Corporal. -It gives me
concern always when I hear it, Trim, sa.-A
my uncle Toby,-for they don't want pevsonal bravery; and if a breach is inade
in the ramparts they may enter it, and
make -themselves masters of the place when
they please.  Let -them enter it, said the
Corporal, lifting up the p1bneer's spade in
both his hands, as if he was going. to lay
about him with it,-let them enter, an'
please your Honor, if they dare. -- In
cases line this, Corporal, said my uncle
Toby, slipping his right hand down to the
middle of his cane, and holding it afterwards truncheon-wise, with-his fore-finger
exteDded,-'tis no part of the consideration
of a commandant, what the enemy dare, or
what they dare not do; he must. act with
prudence. We will begin with the outworhs both towards the sea and the land,
and particularly with Fort Louis, the most
distant;of them all, and demolish it first;and the I rest one by one., both on our right
and left, as we retreat towards the town;
-then we'll demolish the mole,-next fill
up the harbor, —r-then retire into the citadel,
and blow it up into the air; and having',done that, Corporal, we'll embark for England.   We are there, quoth the Corporal,
recollecting hirns.elf.-Very true, said my
uncle Toby,-Iooking at the church.
CHAP. XXXIV.
A DELUSIVE, delicious consultation or two
of this kind, betwixt my uncle Toby and
Trim, upon thedemolition of Dunhirk,-for
a moment rallied back the ideas of those plea
sures, which were slipping 6om under him.
Stilb-still all wont on heavily; the magit;
left tube min& the wealier,- Stillness, With


him to set about it.-Fatal, interval of in
activity!
The Corporal was for beginning the demolition, by making a breach in the ramparts, or main fortifications of the town.No-;-that will never do, Corporal, said my
uncle Toby; for, in going that way to work
with the town, the English garrison will
not be safe in it an hour; because, if the
French are treacherous, -They are as
treacherous as Devils, an' please your
Honor, said the Corporal. -It gives me
concern always when I hear it, Trim, sacks
my uncle Toby,-for they don't want peasonal bravery; and if a breach is made
in the ramparts, they may enter it, and
make -themselves masters of the place when
they please.  Let them enter it, said the
Corporal, lifting up the pibneer's spade in
both his hands, as if he was going to lay
about him with it,-let them enter, an'
please your Honor, if they dare. -- In
cases like this, Corporal, said my uncle
Toby, slipping his right hand down to the
middle of his cane, and holding it afterwards truncheon-wise, with his fore-finger
extended,-'tis no part of the consideration
of a commandant, what the enemy dare, or
what they dare not do; he must act with
prudence. We will begin with the outworhs both towards the sea and the land,
and particularly with Fort Louis, the most
distant of them all, and demolish it first;and the rest one by one, both on our right
and left, as we retreat towards the town;
-then we'll demolish the mole,-next fill
up the harbor, —then retire into the citadel,
and blow it up into the air; and having
done that, Corporal, we'll embark for England. V-We are there, quoth the Corporal,
recollecting himself.-Very true, said my
uncle Toby, —looking at the church.
CHAP. XXXIV.
A DELUSIVE, delicious consultation or two
of this kind, betwixt my uncle Toby and
Trim, upon the demolition of Dunkirk,-for
a moment rallied back the ideas of those plea
sures, which were slipping from under him.
Still,-still all went on heavily; the magit;
left the mind the wealker,-'tillness, with




196


LIFE AND      O'li!lK )NS


Silence at her back, entered the solitary
parlor, and drew their gauzy mantle over
ny uncle Toby's head;-and Listlessness,
with her lax fibre and undirected eye, sat
quietly down beside him in his arm-chair.
-No longer Amberg, and Rhinberg, and
Limbourg, and Huy, and Bonn, in one year;
-and the prospect of Landen, and Trerebach, and Drusen, and Dendermond, the
next,-hurried on the blood:-No longer
did saps, and mines, and blinds, and gabions,
and palisadoes, keep out this fair enemy of
man's repose:-No more could my uncle
Toby, after passing the French lines, as he
eat his egg at supper, from thence break
into the heart of France,-cross over the
Oyse, and with all Picardie open behind
him, march up to the gates of Paris, and
fall asleep with nothing but ideas of glory:
-No more was he to dream he had fixed
the royal standard upon the tower of the
Bastile, and awake with it streaming in his
head:
-Softer visions,   gentler vibrations,
stole sweetly in upon his slumbers; the
trumpet of war fell out of his hands;-he
took up the lute, sweet instrument! of all
others the most delicate! the most difficult!
-how wilt thou touch it, my dear uncle
Toby?
CHAP, XXXV.
Now, because I have once or twice said,
in my inconsiderate way of talking, that I
was confident the following memoirs of my
uncle Toby's courtship of Widow Wadman,
whenever I got time to write them, would
turn out one of the most complete systems,
both of the elementary and practical part
of love and love-making, that ever was addressed to the world,-are you to imagine
from thence, that I shall set out with a
description of what love is? whether part
God and part Devil? as Plotinus will have
it;-Or, oy a more critical equation, and,
supposing the whole of love to be as ten?
to determine, with Ficinus, "how many
"parts of it the one? and how many the
other?"-or whether it is all of it one
e-eat devil, from head to tail; as Plato has


taken upon him to pronounce; concernng
which conceit of his, I shall not offer my
opinion:-but my opinion of Plato is this:
That he appears, from this instance, to
have been a man of much the same temper
and way of reasoning with Dr. Baynard;
who being a great enemy to blisters, as
imagining that half a dozen of'em on at
once, would draw a man as surely to his
grave, as a hearse and six,-rashly concluded, that the Devil himself was nothing
in the world, but one great bouncing Cantharides.
I have nothing to say to people who allow themselves this monstrous liberty in
arguing, but what Nazianzen cried out
(that is, polemically) to Philagrius.
"Evye!" 0 rare!'tisfine reasoning, Sir,
indeed! —OL 0IXtaopeL v IIaOL — and most
nobly do you aim at truth, when you philosophize about it in your moods and passions.
Nor is it to be imagined, for the same
reason, I should stop to inquire, whether
love is a disease,-or embroil myself with
Rhasis and Dioscorides, whether the seat
of it is in the brain or liver,-because this
would lead me on to an examination of the
two very opposite manners in which patients have been treated, -the one, of
Acetius, who always began with a cooling
clyster of hemp-seed and bruised cucumbers;
-and followed on with thin potations of
water-lilies and purslane,- to which he
added a pinch of snuff; of the herb Hanea;
and, where Avetius durst venture it, his
topaz ring.
-The other, that of Gordonius, who (in
his cap. 15, de Amore) directs they should
be thrashed " ad putorem usque,"-till they
stink again.
These are the disquisitions which my
father, who had laid in a great stock of
knowledge of this kind, will be very busy
with in the progress of my uncle Toby's
affairs: I must anticipate thus much: That
from his theories of love (with whicn, by
the way, he contrived to crucify my uncle
Toby's mind almost as much as his amours
themselves)-he took a single step into
practice; and, by means of a camphorated
cerecloth, which he found means to impose
upon the taylor for buckram, whilst he was
making my uncle Toby a new pair c*




OF TRISTRAM SHANDY.'97


oreeches, he Produced Gordonius's effect
upon my uncle Toby, without the disgrace.
What changes this produced, will be
read in its proper place: all that is needful
to be added to the anecdote, is this: That
whatever effect it had upon my uncle Toby,
it had a vile effect upon the house; and, if
my uncle Toby had not smoked it down as
he did, it might have had a vile effect upon
mv father too.
CHAP. XXXVI.
-'TWILL come out of itself, by and bye.
— All I contend for is, that I am not obliged
to set out with a definition of what love is;
and so lone as I can go on with my story
intoihribly. with the help of the word itself,
without any other idea to it than what I
P-ve in common with the rest of the world,'-bv should I differ from it a moment before ttile time?-TWhen I can get on no
further,-and find myself entangled on all
sides in this mystic labyrinth,-my opinion
will then come in, in course,-and lead me
out.
At present, I hope I shall be sufficiently
understood, in telling the reader, my uncle
Tobyfell in love:


-Not that the phrase is at all to my
liking: for to say a man is fallen in love,
-or that he is deeply in love;-or up to
the ears in love;-and sometimes even
over head and ears in it, carries an idiomatical kind of implication, that love is a
thing lelow a man.-This is recurring
again to Plato's opinion, which, with'all
his divinityship,-I hold to be damnable
and heretical;-and so much for that.
Let love therefore be what it will,-my
uncle Toby fell into it.
-And possibly, gentle reader, with such a
temptation,-so would'st thou:-For never
did thy eyes behold, or thy concupiscence
covet, any thing in this world more concupiscible than Widow Wadman.
CHAP. XXXVII.
To conceive this right,-call for pen and
ink;-here's paper ready to your hand.Sit down, Sir, paint her to your own mind;
-as like your mistress as you can,-as
unlike your wife as your conscience will
let you,-'tis all one to me,-please bu
your own fancy in it.


17*




LIFE AND OPINIONS




OF TRISTRAM SIIANDY


199


Was ever any thing mn nature so sweet! he may as well batter away his means uponi
-so exquisite!                          that, as any thing else.
-Then, dear Sir, how could my uncle     -Top be sure, said my mother. So here
Toby resist it?                         ended the proposition,-the reply,-and the
Thrice happy book! thou wilt have one rejoinder, I told you of.
page, at least, within thy covers, which   -It will be some amusement to him,
Malice will not blacken, and which Igno- too, said my father.
ance cannot misrepresent.                 -A very great one, answered my mother, if he should have children.
-Lord have mercy upon me! said my
father to himself. -        *    *.
CHAP. XXXIX.                 *    *     *    *    *     *     *,
_~~J               *e       *  G   *L   * k k 




As Susannah was informed, by an express from Mrs. Bridget, of my uncle
Toby's falling in love with her mistress,
fifteen days before it happened,-the contents of which express Susannah communicated to my mother the next day;-it has
iust given me an opportunity of entering
upon my uncle Toby's amours a fortnight
before their existence.
I have an article of news to tell you, Mr.
Shandy, quoth my mother, which will surprise you greatly.Now my father was then holding one of
his second beds of justice, and was musing
within himself about the hardships of matrimony, as my mother broke silence.
"-My brother Toby, quoth she, is going
to be married to Mrs. Wadman!"
-Then he will never, quoth my father,
be able to lie diagonally in his bed again,
as long as he lives.
It was a consuming vexation to my
father, that my mother never asked the
meaning of a thing she did not understand.
-That she is not a woman of science,
my father would say, is her misfortune;but she might ask a question.My mother never did.-In short, she
went out of the world, at last, without
knowing whether it turned round, or stood
still. - My father had officiously told her
above a thousand times, which way it was;
-but she always forgot.
For these reasons, a discourse seldom
went on much farther betwixt them than a
proposition,-a reply, and a rejoinder; at
the end of which, it generally took breath
for a few minutes (as in the affair of the
breeches) and then went on again.
If he marries,'twill be the worse for us,
quoth my mother.
-Not a cherry-stone, said my father;

*  *  *  *  *  *  *  ^
*  *  *  *  *  *  *  ~


CHAP. XL.
I AM now beginning to get fairly into my
work; and by the help of a vegetable diet,
with a few of the cold seeds, I make no
doubt but I shall be able to go on with my
uncle Toby's story and my own, in a toler
able straight line. Now,
O
scribed in it being this:/C        c
These were the four lines I moved in
through my first, second, third, and fourth
volumes. *In tAhe fifth volume I have teen
very good,-the precise line 1 have ^scribed in it being this:A_
B.       C     c
c     c   c 
By which it appears, that except at tlhe
curve, marked A, where I took a trip to


* Alluding to the first edition




200


LIFE AND OPINIONS, &c.


Navarre;-and the indented curve B, which
is the short airing when I was there with
the lady Baussiere and lir page,-I have
not taken the least frisk of a digression, till
John de la Casse's Devils led me the round
you see marked D;-for as for c c c c c, they
are nothing but parentheses, and the common
ins and outs incident to the lives of the
greatest ministers of state; and when compared with what men have done,-or with


which is a line drawn as straight as I
could draw it by a writing-master's ruler
(borrowed for that purpose) turning neither
to the right hand nor to the left.
-This right line, -the pathway -or
christians to walk in! say divines,-The emblem of moral rectitude! says
Cicero,-The best line! say cabbage-planters,is the shortest line, says Archimedes, wnicn


I


my own transgressions at the letters A B D, can be drawn from one given point to an

-they vanish into nothing.
In this last volume I have done better
still, —for from the end of Le Fevre's episode, to the beginning of my uncle Toby's
campaigns-I have scarce stepped a yard
out of my way.
If I mend at this rate, it is not impossible,-by the good leave of his Grace of
Benevento's Devils, but I may arrive hereafter at the excellency of going on even
thus:


other.
I wish your Ladyships would lay this
matter to heart, in your next birth-day
suits!
-What a journey!
Pray can you tell me,-that is, witnoul
anger, before I write my chapter upon
straight lines,-by what mistake, -wno
told them so,-or how it has come to pass,
that your men of wit and genius nave an
along confounded this line witn tne lun ol
crafYata i,;n.?




THE
LIFE AND OPINIONS
OF
rioGtraIN TL    ansMA.
GENTLEMAN.


CHAP. I.
No:-I think I said, I would write two
volumes every year, provided the vile cough,
which then tormented me, and which to
this hour I dread worse than the Devil,
would but give me leave;-and in another
place-(but where, I can't recollect now)
speaking of my book as a machine, and layng my pen and ruler down cross-wise upon
the table, in order to gain the greater credit
to it,-I swore it should be kept a-going at
that rate these forty years, if it pleased but
the Fountain of Life to bless me so long
with health and good spirits.
Now, as for my spirits, little have I to
tay to their charge,-nay, so very little
(unless the mounting me upon a long stick,
and playing the fool with me nineteen hours
out of the twenty-four, be accusations)that, on the contrary, I have much,-much
to thank'em for. Cheerily have ye made
me tread the path of life, with all the, burdens of it (except its cares) upon my back:
in no one moment of my existence, that I
remember, have ye once deserted me, or
tinged the objects which came in my way,
either with sable, or with a sickly green:
in dangers ye gilded my horizon with hope;
and when DEATH himself knocked at my
door,-ye bade him come again; and in so
gay a tone of careless indifference did ye do
it, that he doubted of his commission.
"-There must certainly be some mistake'in this matter," quoth he.
Now there is nothing in this world I
abominate worse, than to be interrupted in
a story;-and I was that moment telling
Eugenius a most tawdry one, in my way,
of a nun who fancied herself a shell-fish;
and of a monk dainn'd for eating a muscle;
2 A


and was showing him the grounds and justice of the procedure.
" —Did ever so gra e a personage get
" into so vile a scrape." quoth Death.Thou hast had a narrow escape, Tristram,
said Eugenius, taking hold of my hand as
I finished my story.But there is no living, Eugenius, replied
I, at this rate; for as this son of a whore
has found out my lodgings,--  You call him rightly, said Eugenius,
-for by sin, we are told, he enter'd the
world.-I care not which way he enter'd,
quoth I, provided he. be not in such a hurry
to take me out with him,-for I have forty
volumes to write, and forty thousand things
to say and do, which nobody in the world
will say and do for me, except thyself; and
as thou seest he has got me by the throat,
(for Eugenius could scarce hear me speak
across the table) and that I am no match
for him in the open field, had I not better
whilst these few scatter'd spirits remain,
and these two spider legs of mine (holding
one of them up to him) are able to support
me,-had I not better, Eugenius, fly for my
life?-'Tis my advice, my dear Tristram,
said Eugenius.-Then, by Heaven! I will
lead him a dance he little thinks of;-for I
will gallop, quoth I, without looking once
behind me, to the banks of the Garrone;and if I hear him clattering at my heels,I'll scamper away to Mount Vesuvius;from thence to Joppa, and from Joppa to the
world's end; where, if he follows me, I pray
God he may break his neck.He runs more risk there, said Eugenius,
than thou.
Eugenius's wit and affection brought
blood into the cheek from whence it had
been some months banish'd:'-'t was a vile




' 202


LIFE AND OPINIONS


moment to bid adieu in: he led me to mly
chaise.-Allons! said I; the post-boy gave
a crack with his whip,-off I went like a
cannon, and at half a dozen bounds got intc
Dover.
CHAP. II.
Now, hang it! quoth I, as I look'd towards
the French coast,-a man should know
something of his own country too, before
he goes abroad;-and I never gave a peep
into Rochester church; or took notice of the
dock of Chatham, or visited St. Thomas at
Canterbury, though they all three lay in
my way.
-But mine, indeed, is a particular case.
-So, without arguing the matter further
with Thomas o'Becket, or any one else, —
skipp'd into the boat, and in five minutes
we got under sail, and scudded away like
the wind.
Pray, Captain, quoth I, as I was going
down into the cabin, is a man never overtaken by Death in this passage?Why, there is not time for a man to be
sick in it, replied he.-What a cursed liar!
for I am sick as a horse, quoth I, already.What a brain!-upside down!-hey-day!
-the cells are broke loose one into another,
and the blood, and the lymph, and the nervous juices, with the fix'd and volatile salts,
are all jumbled into one mass!-good G-!
every thing turns round in it like a thousand whirlpools.-I'd give a shilling to know
if I shan't write the clearer for it.Sick! sick! sick! sick!When shall we get to land, Captain?they have hearts like stones.-O I am deadly
sick!-Reach me that thing, boy: —'tis the
most discomfiting sickness,-I wish I was
at the bottom.-Madam, how is it with you?
-Undone! undone! un-   O! undone, Sir.
-What! the first time?-No,'tis the second, third, sixth, tenth time, Sir.-Hey-day,
-what a trampling over-head!-Hollo!
cabin-boy! what s the matter -
The wind chopp'd about!-S'death!then I shall meet him full in the face.
-What luck!-'tis chopp'd about again,
rnaster.-O the Devil chop it.
Captain, quoth she, for Heaven's sake,
Jet us get ashore.


CHAP. III.
IT is a great inconvenience to a man in
a haste, that there are three distinct roads
between Calais and Paris; in behalf of
which, there is so much to be said by the
several deputies from the towns which lie
along them, that half a day is easily lost in
settling which you'll take.
First, The road by Lisle and Arras, which
is the most about,-but most interesting
and instructing:
The second, That by Amiens; which you
may go, if you would see Chantilly:
And that by Beauvais, which you may
go if you will.
For this reason, a great many choose to
go by Beauvais.


CHAP. IV.


"Now, before I quit Calais," a travelwriter would say, " it would not be amiss to
"give some account of it."Now, I think it very much amiss,-that
a man cannot go quietly through a town
and let it alone when it does not meddle
with him, but that he must be turning
about, and drawing his pen at every kennel
he crosses over, merely, o' my conscience,
for the sake of drawing it; because, if we
may judge from what has been wrote of
these things, by all who have wrote and
gallop'd,-or who have gallop'd and wrote,
which is a different way still; or who, for
more expedition than the rest, wrote galloping,-which is the way I do at present,
-from the great Addison, who did it with
his satchel of school-books hanging at his
a-, and galling his beast's crupper at every
stroke, there is not a galloper of us all, who
might not have gone on ambling quietly on
his own ground (in case he had any) and
have wrote all he had to write, dry-shod, as
well as not.
For my own part, as Heaven is my judge,
and to which I shall ever make my last appeal,-I know no more of Calais, (except
the little my barber told me of it as he was
whetting his razor) than I do this moment
of Grand Cairo; for it was dusky in the
evening when I landed, and as dark as pitch
in the morning when I set out; and yet, by




OF TRISTRAM SHANDY.


203


merely knowing what is what, and by
drawing this from that in one part of the
town, and by spelling and putting this and
that together in another,-I would lay any
travelling odds, that I this moment write a
chapter upon Calais as long as my arm;
and with so distinct and satisfactory a detail
of every item which is worth a stranger's
curiosity in the town,-that you would take
me for the town-clerk of Calais itself;and where, Sir, would be the wonder. was
not Democritus, who laughed ten times
more than I,-town-clerk of Abdera and
was not (I forget his name) who had more
discretion than us both, town-clerk of Ephesus?-It should be penn'd, moreover Sir,
with so much knowledge, and good sense,
and truth, and precision,-Nay,-if you don't believe me, you
may read the chapter for your pains.
CHAP. V.
CALAIS, Calatium, Calusium, Calesium.
This town, if we may trust its archives,
the authority of which I see no reason to
call in question in this place,-was once no
more than a small village, belonging to one
of the first Counts de Guignes, and as it
boasts at present of no less than fourteen
thousand inhabitants, exclusive of four hundred and twenty distinct families in the
basse ville, or suburbs,-it must have grown
up by little and little, I suppose, to its
present size.
Though there are four convents, there is
but one parochial church in the whole
town. I had not an opportunity of taking
its exact dimensions, but it is pretty easy
to make a tolerable conjecture of'em:for as there are fourteen thousand inhabitants in the town, if the church holds them
all, it must be considerably large;-and if
it will not,-'tis a very great pity they
have not another.-It is built in form of a
cross, and dedicated to the Virgin Mary;
the steeple, which has a spire to it, is placed
in the middle of the church, and stands
upon four pillars, elegant and light enough,
but sufficiently strong at the same time.It is decorated with eleven altars, most of
which are rather fine than beautiful. The


great altar is a masterpiece in its kind,-'tis of white marble, and, as I was told,
near sixty feet high:-had it been much
higher, it had been as high as Mount Calvary itself;-therefore, I suppose it must
be high enough in all conscience.
There was nothing struck me more than
the great square: though I cannot say'tis
either well paved or well built; but'tis in
the heart of the town, and most of the
streets, especially those in that quarter, all
terminate in it. Could there have been a
fountain in all Calais, which it seems there
cannot, as such an object would have been
a great ornament, it is not to be doubted
but that the inhabitants would have had it
in the very centre of this square;-not that
it is properly a square,-because'tis forty
feet longer from east to west, than from
north to south; so that the French in general have more reason on their side in calling them Places than Squares, which, strictly
speaking, to be sure, they are not.
The town-house seems to be but a sorry
building, and not to be kept in the best repair; otherwise it had been a second great
ornament to this place: it answers, however,
its destination, and serves very well for the
reception of the magistrates, who assemble
in it from time to time; so that'tis presumable, justice is regularly distributed.
I had heard much of it, but there is
nothing at all curious in the Courgain:'tis
a distinct quarter of the. town, inhabited
solely by sailors and fishermen: it consists
of a number of small streets, neatly built,
and mostly of brick.'Tis extremely populous; but as that may be accounted for from
the principles of their diet,-there is nothing curious in that neither.-A traveller
may see it, to satisfy himself:-he must not
omit however taking notice of La Tour de
Guet, upon any account;'tis so called from
its particular destination, because in war it
serves to discover and give notice of the
enemies which approach the place, either
by sea or land;-but'tis monstrous high,
and catches the eye so continually, you
cannot avoid taking notice of it if you
would.
It was a singular disappointment to me,
that I could not have permission to take an
exact survey of the fortifications, which are
the strongest in the world and whin,




204


LIFE AND OPINIONS


from first to last, that is, from the time they
were set about by Philip of France, Count
of Boulogne, to the present war, wherein
many reparations were made, have cost (as
I learnt afterwards from an engineer in
Gascony)-above a hundred millions of
livres.-It is very remarkable, that at the
Tete de Gravelenes, and where the town
is naturally the weakest, they have expended the most money; so that the outworks stretch a great way into the campaign, and consequently occupy a large
tract of ground.-However, after all that
is said and done, it must be acknowledged
that Calais was never upon any account so
considerable from itself, as from its situation, and that easy entrance which it gave
our ancestors, upon all occasions, into
France. It was not without its inconveniences also; being no less troublesome to
the English, in those times, than Dunkirk
has been to us, in ours; so that it was deservedly looked upon as the key to both
kingdoms; which no doubt is the reason
that there have arisen so many contentions
who should keep it: of these, the siege of
Calais, or rather the blockade (for it was
shut up both by land and sea) was the most
memorable, as it withstood the efforts of
Edward the Third a whole year, and was
not terminated, at last, but by famine and
extreme misery; the gallantry of Eustace
de St. Pierre, who first offered himself a
victim for his fellow-citizens, has rank'd his
name with heroes.-As it will not take up
above fifty pages, it would be injustice to
the reader, not to give a minute account of
that romantic transaction, as well as of the
siege itself, in Rapin's own words:CHAP. VI.
-BUT courage! gentle reader!-I scorn
it:-'tis enough to have thee in my power;
-but to make use of the advantage which:he fortune of the pen has now gained over
thee, would be too much.-No!-by that
all-powerful fire which warms the visionary
brain, and lights the spirits through unworldly tracts! ere I would force a helpless
creature unon this hard service, and make.iee pay, poor soul! for fifty pages, which


I have no right to sell thee,-naked as I
am, I would browse upon the mountains,
and smile that the north wind brought me
neither my tent nor my supper.
-So put on, my brave boy! and make
the best of thy way to Boulogne.
CHAP. VII.
-BOULOGNE!-hah!-so we are all got
together,-debtors and sinners before Heaven, a jolly set of us;-but I can't stay and
quaff it off with you.-I'm pursued myself
like a hundred Devils, and shall be overtaken before I can well change horses:for Heaven's sake, make haste.-'Tis for
high treason, quoth a very little man, whispering as low as he could to a very tall
man that stood next him.-Or else for murder, quoth the tall man.-Well thrown,
Size-Ace! quoth I.-No; quoth a third, the
gentleman has been committingAh! ma chere fille! said I, as she tripped
by from her matins,-you look as rosy as
the morning (for the sun was rising, and it
made the compliment the more gracious)No; it can't be that, quoth a fourth-(she
made a court'sy to me,-I kiss'd my hand)'tis a debt, continued he.-'Tis certainly for
debt, quoth a fifth.-I would not pay that
gentleman's debts, quoth Ace, for a thousand pound. Nor would I, quoth Size, for
six times, the sum.-Well thrown, SizeAce again! quoth I;-but I have no debt
but the debt of NATURE, and I want but
patience of her, and I will pay her every
farthing I owe her.-How can you be so
hard-hearted, MADAM, to arrest a poor traveller going along, without molestation to
any one, upon his lawful occasions?-Do
stop that death-looking, long-striding scoundrel of a scare sinner, who is posting after
me.-He never would have followed me
but for you. If it be but for a stage or two,
just to give me start of him, I beseech you,
Madam.-Do, dear lady.Now, in troth,'tis a great pity, quoth
mine Irish host, that all this good courtship
should be lost; for the young gentlewoman
has been after going out of hearing of it all
along.Simpleton! quoth I.




OF TRISTl'iAld i;IaANDY.


205


So you have nothing else in BoulognIr  I will;-so I never chaff, but take the good
worth seeing?-                        and the bad as they fall in my road, and
-By Jasus! there is the finest seminary get on.-Do so, my lad! said I: he had
for the Humanities.-                  lost five minutes already in alighting, in
There cannot be a finer, quoth I.   order to get at a luncheon of black bread,
which he had cramm'd into the chaisepocket, and was remounted, and going
leisurely on, to relish it- the better.-Get
CHAP. VIII.               on, my lad, said I, briskly;-but in the
most persuasive tone imaginable; for I jinWHEN the precipitancy of a man's wishes gled a four-and-twenty sous piece against
hurries on his ideas ninety times faster than the glass, taking care to hold the flat side
the vehicle he rides in,-woe be to truth! towardshim, as he look'd back. The dog
and woe be to the vehicle and its tackling grinn'd intelligence from his right ear to
(let'em be made of what stuff you will) his left; and behind his sooty muzzle disupon which he breathes forth the disap- cover'd such a pearly row of teeth, that
pointment of his soul!                sovereignty would have pawn'd her jewels
As I never give general characters either for them.
of men or things in choler, " the most haste           What masticators!
"the worst speed," was all the reflection I Just Heaven!  What bread!made upon the affair the first time it hap- and so, as he finish'd the last mouthful of it.
pen'd;-the second, third, fourth, and fifth we enter'd the town of Montreuil.
time, I confined it respectively to those
times, and accordingly blamed only the
second, third, fourth, and fifth post-boy for
it, without carrying my reflections further;       CHAP. IX.
but the event continuing to befall me from
the fifth to the sixth, seventh, eighth,  THERE is not a town in all France,
ninth, and tenth time, and without one ex- which, in my opinion, looks better in the
ception, I then could not avoid making a map than Montreuil.-I own, it does not
national reflection of it, which I do, in these look so well in the book of post-roads;words:-.                  but when you come to see it,-to be sure it
That something ts always wrong in a looks most pitifully.
French post-chaise upon first setting out.  There is one thing, however,, in it at
Or the proposition may stand thus:-  present very handsome; and that is, the
A French postilion has always to alight inn-keeper's daughter.-She has been eighbefore he has got three hundred yards out teen months at Amiens, and six at Paris,
of town.                              in going through her classes; so knits,
What's wrong now?-Diable!-a rope's and sews, and dances, and does the little
broke!-a knot has slipt!-a staple's drawn! coquetries very well.
— a bolt's to whittle!-a tag, a rag, a jagg,  A slut! in running them over within
a strap, a buckle, or a buckle's tongue, want these five minutes that I have stood looking
altering,                             at her, she has let fall at least a dozen loops
Now, true as all this is, I never think in a white thread stocking.-Yes, yes,-I
myself empowered to excommunicate there- see, you cunning gipsy! -'tis long, and
unon either the post-chaise, or its, driver; taper,-you need not pin it to your knee;
nor do I take it into my head to swear by -and that'tis your own,-and fits you
the living G-, I would rather go afoot exactly.
ten thousand times,-or that I will be    That Nature should E aqve told this crea.
damn'd if ever I get into another;-but I ture a word about a statue a  thumb 
take the matter coolly before me, and con-  But as this sample is worth all their
sider, that some tag, or rag, or jagg, or bolt, thumbs,-besides, I have 1\er thumbs ani
or buckle, or buckle's tongue, will ever be fingers in at the bargain, if they can be any
a-vwanting, or want altering, travel where guide to me,-and as Janatone withal (fo18




206


LIFE AND OPINIONS


that is her name) stands so well for a drawing,-may I never draw more; or rather,
may I draw like a draught-horse, by main
strength, all the days of my life,-if I do
not draw her in all her proportions, and
with as determin'd a pencil, as if I had her
in the wettest drapery.
-But your Worships choose rather that
I give you the length, breadth, and perpendicular height of the great parish-church,
or a drawing of the facade of the abbey of
St. Austreberte, which has been transported
from Artois hither:-every thing is just I
suppose as the masons and carpenters left
them;-and if the belief in Christ continues
so long, will be so these fifty years to come;
-so your Worships and Reverences may
all measure them at your leisures;-but


* de Montreuil a Nampont-poste et demi
de Nampont a Bernay - poste
de Bernay a Nouvion - poste
de Nouvion a Abbeville- poster
-but the carders and spinners were all
gone to bed.


CHAP. XI.
WHAT a vast advantage is travellmng
only it heats one; but there is a remedy for
that, which you may pick out of the next
chapter.


he who measures thee, Janatone, must do             CHAP XII
it now;-thou carriest the principles of
change within thy frame; and, considering  WAS I in a condition to stipulate with
the chances of a transitory life, I would not Death, as I am this moment with my apotheanswer for thee a moment: ere twice cary, how and where I will take his clyster,
twelve months are pass'd and gone, thou -I should certainly declare against submitnayest grow out like a pumpkin, and lose ting to it before my friends; and therefore
thy shapes:-or, thou mayest go off like a I never seriously think upon the mode and
flower, and lose thy beauty; -nay, thou manner of this great catastrophe, which
mayest go off like a hussy —and lose thy- generally takes up and torments my
self. -I would not answer for my aunt thoughts as much as the catastrophe itself,
Dinah, was she alive;'faith, scarce for -but I constantly draw the curtain across
her picture, were it but painted by Rey- it with this wish,-That the Disposer of all
nolds.-                                things may so order it, that it happen not
But if I go on with my drawing, after to me in my own house, —but rather in some
naming that son of Apollo, I'll be shot.  decent inn;-at home I know it;-the conSo you must e'en be content with the cern of my friends, and the last services of
original; which, if the evening is fine in wiping my brows and smoothing my pillow,
passing through Montreuil, you.will see at which the quivering hand of pale Affection
your chaise-door, as you change horses: but shall pay me, will so crucify my soul, that
unless you have as bad a reason for haiste I shall die of a distemper which my physias I have,-you had better stop.-She has cian is not aware of: but in an inn, the few
a little of the devote; but that, Sir, is a terce cold offices I wanted, would be purchased
to a nine in your favor.              with a few guineas, and paid me with an
L —help me! I could not count a single undisturbed, but punctual attention;-but
point: so had been piqued, and re-piqued, mark;-This inn should not be the inn at
and capotted to the Devil.             Abbeville:-if there was not another in the
universe, I would strike that inn out of the
capitulation: so
CHAP. Xl.     -            Let the horses be in the chaise exactly
by four in the morning.-Yes, by four, Sir,
ALL wlicn oeing considered, and tnat -or, by Genevieve! I'll raise a clatter in
Death moreover might be much nearer me the house shall wake the dead.
han I imagined,-I wish I was at Abbeville, quoth I, were it only to see how they  * Vide Book of French Post-Roads, pag- 36, edition
lard and sp;n:-so off we set.        of 17i2.




OF TRISTRAM SHANDY.


207

CHAP. XIII.
" Make them like unto a wheel," is a
bitter sarcasm, as all the learned know,
against the grand tour, and that restless
spirit for making it, which David prophetically foresaw would haunt the children of
men in the latter days; and, therefore, as
thinketh the great Bishop Hall,'tis one of
the severest imprecations which David ever
utter'd against the enemies of the Lord,and, as if he had said, " I wish them' no
"worse luck than always to be rolling
"about."-So much motion, continues he
(for he was very corpulent)-is so much
unquietness; and so much of rest, by the
same analogy, is so much of Heaven.
Now, I (being very thin) thinkdifferently;
and that so much of motion, is so much of
life, and so much of joy;-and that to stand
still, or get on but slowly, is death and the
devil.
-Ilollo! ho — the whole world's asleep 
-bring out the horses,-grease the wheels,
-tie on the mail;-and drive a nail into
that moulding,-I'll not lose a moment.Now, the wheel we are talking of, and
whereinto (but not whereonto, for that would
make an Ixion's wheel of it) he curseth his
enemies, according to the bishop's habit
of body, should certainly be a post-chaise
wheel, whether they were set up in Palestine at that time or nlot;-and my wheel,
for the contrary reasons, must as certainly
be a cart-wheel, groaning round its revolution once in an age; and of which sort,
were I to turn commentator, I should make
no scruple to affirm, they had great store in
that hilly country.
I love the Pythagoreans (much more than
ever I dare tell my dear Jenny) for their
"X optralov ato Tr wla7os, ect ro icaXon 0LXaoqoELst."
-[their]'" getting out of the body, in order
"to think well."- No man thinks right
whilst he is in it; blinded, as he must be,
with his congenial humors, and drawn differently aside, as the bishop and myself have
been, with too lax or too tense a fibre;REASON is, half of it, SENSE; and the
measure of Heaven itself is but the measure of our present appetites and connexions.-But which of the two, in the present


case, do YOU think to be mostly in ib E,
wrong
-You, certainly, quoth she, to distui b a
whole family so early.
CHAP. XIV.
-BUT she did not know I was under a
vow not to shave my beard till I got to
Paris;-yet I hate to make mysteries of
nothing;-'tis the cold cautiousness of one
of those little souls from which Lessius (lib.
13. de Moribus Divinis, cap. 24.) hath made
his estimate, wherein he setteth forth, That
one Dutch' mile, cubically multiplied, Will
allow room.enough, and to spare, for eight
hundred thousand'millions, which lie sup
poses to be as great a number of souls
(counting from the fall of Adam) as can
possibly be damn'd to the end of the world.
From what he has made this second estimate,-unless from the parental goodness
of God,-1 don't know:-I am much more
at a loss what could be in Franciscus Ribbera's head, who pretends that no less a
space than one of two hundred Italian miles
multiplied into itself, will be sufficient to
hold the like number;-he certainly inust
have gone upon some of the old Roman souls,
of which he had read, without reflecting
how much, by a gradual and most tabid d-ecline, in a course of eighteen hundred years,
they must unavoidably have shrunk so as
to have come, when he wrote, almost to
nothing.
In Lessius's time, who seems the cooler
man, they'were as little as can be iniagined.— We find them less-now; —
-And, next winter we shall find them
less again; -so that, if we go on from little
to less,,and from le-,3s to nothing, I hesitater
not one moment to affirm, that in half d
century, at this rate, we shall have no souls
at'all which being the period, beyond
which I doubt likewise of the existence or
the Christian faith,'twill be one advantave,
that' both of them will be- exactly worn out
together.
Blessed Jupiter! -and blessed every other
heathen god and goddess! for now ye will
come into play - gain, and Witli Priapus at


case, do you think to be mostly in tlh
wrong'
— You, certainly, quoth she, to distu b a
whole family so early.
CHAP. XIV.?-BUT she did not know I was under a
vow not to shave my beard till I got to
Paris; —yet I hate to make mysteries of
nothing;-'tis the cold cautiousness of one
of those little souls from which Lessius (lib.
13. de Moribus Divinis, cap. 24.) hath made
his estimate, wherein he setteth forth, That
one Dutch'mile, cubically multiplied, will
allow room enough, and to spare, for eight
hundred thousand imillions, which he sup
poses to be as great a number of souls
(counting from the fall of Adam) as can
possibly be damn'd to the end of the world.
From what he has made this second estimate,-unless from the parental goodness
of God, —I don't know:-I am much more
at a loss what could be in Franciscus Ribhera's head, who pretends that no less a
space than one of two hundred Italian miles
multiplied into itself, will be sufficient to
hold the like number;-he certainly must
have gone upon some of the old Roman souls,
of which he had read, without reflecting
how much, by a gradual and most tabid decline, in a course of eighteen hundred years,
they must unavoidably have shrunk so as
to have come, when he wrote, almost to
nothing.
In Lessius's time, who seems the cooler
man, they' were as little as can be imagined.— We find them less-now;-And, next winter we shall find them
less again; so that, if we go on from little
to less, and from lees to nothing, I hesitate
not one moment to affirm, that in half d
century, at this rate, we shall have no souls
at all; whicli being the period, beyond
which I doubt likewise of the existence of'
the Christian faith,'twill be one advantage,
that' both of them will be exactly worn out
together.
Blessed Jupiter! and blessed every other
heathen god and goddess! for now ye will
come into play again, and witn Priamis at




208


LIFE AND OPINIONS


your taiis.-What jovial times!-but-where
am I? and into what a delicious riot of
things am I rushing. I-I, who must be cut
short in the midst of my days, and taste no
more of'em than what I borrow from my


imagination: -Peace to thee,
fool! and let me go on.


generous


CHAP. XV.
-" So hating, I say, to make mysteries
"of nothing," —I intrusted it with the
post-boy, as soon as ever I got off the stones:
he gave a crack with his whip to balance
the compliment; and with the thill-horse
trotting, had a sort of an up and a down of
the other, we danced it along to Ailly au
Clochers, famed in days of yore for the
finest chimes in the world; but we danced
through it without music,-the chimes being greatly out of order-(as in truth they
were through all France.)
And so making all possible speed from
Ailly au Clochers, I got to Hixcourt;from Hixcourt, I got to Perquignay; and
from Perquignay, I got to Amiens;
concerning which town I have nothing to
inform you, but what I have informed you
once before,-and that was, that Janatone
went there to school.
CHAP. XVI.
IN the whole catalogue of those whiffling
vexations which come puffing across a
man's canvas,- there is not one of a more
teasing or tormenting nature than this particular one which I am going to describe,and for which (unless you travel with an
avance-courier, which numbers do, in order
to prevent it) there is no help; and it is
this:That be you in ever so kindly a propensity to sleep,-though you are passing perhaps through the finest country, upon the
best roads, and in the easiest carriage for
doing it in the world;-nay, were you sure
you could sleep fifty miles straight-forwards,
without once opening your eyes;-nay,
wiat is more, was you as demonstratively


satisfied as you can be of any trutll m
Euclid, that you should upon all accounts
be full as well asleep as awake,-nay, perhaps, better;-yet the incessant returns of
paying for the horses at every stage,-with
the necessity thereupon of putting your
hand into your pocket, and counting out
from thence three livres fifteen sous (sous
by sous) puts an end to so much of the
project, that you cannot execute above six
miles of it (or, supposing it is a post and
an half, that is but nine)-were it to save
your soul from destruction.
-I'll be even with'em, quoth I; for I'll
put the precise sum into a piece of paper,
and hold it ready in my hand all the way:
"Now, I shall have nothing to do," said I,
(composing myself to rest) "but to drop
"this gently into the post-boy's hat, and not
"say a word."-Then there wants two sous
more to drink,-or there is a twelve sous
piece of Louis XIV. which will not pass,or a livre and some old liards to be brought
over from the last stage, which Monsieur
had forgot; which altercations (as a man
cannot dispute very well asleep) rouse him:
still is sweet sleep retrievable; and still
might the flesh weigh down the spirit, and
recover itself of these blows;-but then,
by Heaven! you have paid but a single
post,-whereas'tis a post and a half; and
this obliges you to pull out your book of
post-roads, the print of which is so very
small, it forces you to open your eyes,
whether you will or no: then Monsieur le
Cur6 offers you a pinch of snuff,-or a poor
soldier shows you his leg,-or a shaveling
his box,-or the priestess of the cistern
will water your wheels;-(they do not
want it;-but she swears by her priesthood
(throwing it back) that they do)-thep you
have all these points to argue, or consider
over in your mind; in doing of which, the
rational powers get so thoroughly awakened,-you may get them to sleep again as
you can.
It was entirely owing to one of these
misfortunes, or I had pass'd clean by the
stables of Chantilly.-But the postilion first
affirming, and then persisting in it to my
face, that there was no mark upon the two
sous piece, I open'd my eyes to be convinced;-and seeing the mark upon it as
plain as my nose,-I leap'd out of the




OF TRISTRAM SHANDY.


209


chaise in a passion, and so saw every thing
at Chantilly in spite.-I tried it but for
three posts and a half, but believe'tis the
best principle in the world to travel speedily upon; for as few objects look very inviting in that mood,-you have little or
nothing-to stop you; by which means it
was that I passed through St. Dennis, without turning my head so much as on the
side towards the AbbeyRichness of their treasury!-stuff and
nonsense!-Bating their jewels, which are
all false, I would not give three sous for any
one thing in it, but Jaidas's lantern;-nor
for that neither, only, as it grows dark, it
might be of use.
CHAP. XVII.
CRACK, crack, -crack, crack, -crack,
crack;-so this is Paris! quoth I (continuing in the same mood)-and this is Paris!
-humph!-Paris! cried I, repeating the
name the third time,The first, the finest, the most brilliant!
The streets, however, are nasty.
But it looks, I suppose, better than it
smells.-Crack, crack,-crack, crack;what a fuss thou makest!-as if it concerned the good people to be informed, that a
man with a pale face and clad in black, had the
honor to be driven into Paris at nine o'clock
at night, by a postilion in -a tawny yellow
jerkin, turned up with red calamanco!Crack,-crack, crack,-crack, crack.-I
wish thy whip-But'tis the spirit of thy nation; so
crack-crack on.
Ha!-and no one gives the wall! but in
the School of Urbanity herself, if the walls
are besh-t-how can you do otherwise?
And prithee, when do they light the
lamps? What! -never in the summer
months!- Ho!'tis the time of salads.-O
rare! salad and soup,-soup and salad,salad and soup, encore-'Tis too much for sinners.
Now I cannot bear the barbarity of it.
How can that unconscionable coachman
talk so much bawdy to that lean horse?
don't you see, friend, the streets are so villanously narrow, that there is not room in
2B


all Paris to turn a wheelbarrow? In the
grandest city of the whole world, it would
not have been amiss if they had been left a
thought wider; nay, were it only so much
in every single street, as that a man might
know (was it only for satisfaction) on which
side of it he was walking.
One,- two,- three,- four,- five,- six,
-seven,-eight,-nine,-ten.-Ten cooks'
shops! and twice the number of barbers!
and all within three minutes' driving! one
would think that all the cooks in the world,
on some great merry-meeting with the
barbers, by joint consent, had said,-Come,
let us all go live at Paris: the French love
good eating;-they are all gourmands;we shall rank high; if their god is their
belly,-their cooks must be gentlemen: and,
forasmuch as the periwig maketh the man,
and the periwig-maker maketh the periwig,
-ergo, would the barbers say, we shall
rank higher still,-we shall be above you
all,-we shall be * Capitouls at least,pardi! we shall all wear swords:
-And so, one would swear (that is by
candle-light,-but there is no depending
upon it) they continue to do to this day.
CHAP. XVIII.
THE French are certainly misunderstood:
-but whether the fault is theirs, in not
sufficiently explaining themselves; or speaking with that exact limitation and precision
which one would expect on a point of such
importance, and which, moreover, is so
likely to be contested by us;-or whether
the fault may not be altogether on our side,
in not understanding their language al
ways so critically as to know " what they
"would be at,"-I shall not decide; but'tis
evident to me, when they affirm, " Tha:
"they who have seen Paris, have seen every
"thing," they must mean to speak of those
who have seen it by day-light.
As for candle-light,-I give it up;-1
have said before, there was no depending
upon it;-and I repeat it again;-but not
because the lights and shades are too sharp.
-or the tints confounded,-or that there is


* Chief Magistrate in Toulouse, &c.




210


LIFE AND OPINIONST


neither beauty nor keeping, &c... for the four palaces, which you may see, either
that's not truth;-but it is an uncertain with or without the statues and pictures,
light in this respect, that in all the five hun- just as you choose.
dred grand hotels, which they number up   -Then you have seento you in Paris;-and the five hundred     -but'tis what no one needeth to tell
good things, at a modest computation (for you, for you will read of it yourself, upon
tis only allowing one good thing to a hotel) the portico of the Louvre, in these words:which by candle-light are best to be seen,  * Earth no such Folks!-no Folks e'er such a town
felt, heard, and understood (which, by the  As Paris is-sing Derry, derry, down.
bye, is a quotation from Lilly)-the devil a  The French have a gay way of treating
one of us, out of fifty, can get our heads every thing that is Great; and that is all
fairly thrust in amongst them.          can be said upon it.
This is no part of the French computation;'tis simply this:-                                -
That by the last survey, taken in the
year 1716, since which time there have               CHAP    XIX
been considerable augmentations, -Paris
doth contain nine hundred streets, (viz.)  IN mentioning the word gay (as in the
In the quarter called the City, there are close of the last chapter) it puts one (i. e.
fifty-three streets;                  an author) in mind of the word spleen;In St. James of the Shambles, fifty-five especially if he has any thing to say upon
streets;                              it. Not that by any analysis, -or that
In St. Oportune, thirty-four streets;   from any table of interest or genealogy,
In the quarter of the Louvre, twenty-five there appears much more ground of allistreets;                              ance betwixt them, than betwixt light and
In the Palace Royal, or St. Honorius, forty- darkness, or any two of the most unfriendly
nine streets;                         opposites in nature;-only'tis an underIn Mont Martyr, forty-one streets;      craft of authors to keep up a good underIn St. Eustace, twenty-nine streets;    standing amongst words, as politicians do
In the Halles, twenty-seven streets;    amongst men,-not knowing how near
In St. Dennis, fifty-five streets;      they may be under a necessity of placing
In St. Martin, fifty-four streets;      them  to each other;-which point being
In St. Paul, or the Mortellerie, twenty- now gain'd, and that I may place mine exseven streets;                        actly to my mind, I write it down here,
The Greve, thirty-eight streets;
SPLEEN.
in St. Avoy, or the Verrerie, nineteen
streets;                                This, upon leaving Chantilly, I declared
In the Marias, or the Temple, fifty-two to be the best principle in the world to
streets;                              travel speedily upon; but I gave it only as
In St. Anthony, sixty-eight streets;    matter of opinion. I still continue in the
In the Place Maubert, eighty-one streets; same sentiments;-only I had not then exIn St. Bennet, sixty streets;           perience enough of its working to add this,
In St. Andrew de Arcs, fifty-one streets;  That though you do get on at a tearing
In the quarter of the Luxembourg, sixty- rate, yet you get on but uneasily to yourtwo streets;                          self at the same time; for which reason, I
And in that of St. Germain, fifty-five streets; here quit it entirely, and for ever; and
into any of which you may walk; and that'tis heartily at any one's service:-it has
when you have seen them, with all that spoiled me the digestion of a good supper,
belongs to them, fairly by day-light,-their and brought on a bilious diarrhma, which
gates, their bridges, their squares, their has brought me back again to my first
statues --- and have crusaded it, more- principle on which I set out;-and with
ovre, through all their parish-churches, by
no means omitting St. Roche and Sulpice;  * Non orbis gentem, non urbem gens habet ullam
- and to crown all, have taken a walk to -                 -ula parein.




OF TRISTRAM SHANDY.


211


which I shall now scamper it away to the
banks of the Garonne.
-No;-I cannot stop a moment to give
you the character of the people, -their
genius,-their manners,-their customs,their laws,-their religion,-their government,   their manufactures,- their commerce,-their finances, with all the resources and hidden springs which sustain
them; qualified as I may be, by spending
three days and two nights amongst them,
and during all that time making these
things the entire subject of my inquiries
and reflections.Still,-still I must away,-the roads are
paved,-the posts are short,-the days are
long,-'tis no more than noon,-I shall be
at Fontainbleau before the King.
-Was he going there 1 Not that I know.
CHAP. XX.
Now'I hate to hear a person, especially
if he be a traveller, complain that we do
not get on so fast in France as we do in
England; whereas we get on much faster,
consideratis considerandis; thereby always
meaning, that if you weigh their vehicles
with the mountains of baggage which you
lay both before and behind upon them,and then consider their puny horses, with
the very little they give them,-'tis a wonder they get on at all. Their suffering is
most unchristian; and'tis evident thereupon to me, that a French post-horse would
not know what in the world to do, was it
not for the two words ****** and *****,
in which there is as much sustenance as if
you gave them a peck of corn. Now as
these words cost nothing, I long, from my
soul, to tell the reader what they are; but
here is the question,-they must be told
him plainly, and with the most distinct articulation, or it will answer no end;-and
yet to do it in that plain way,-though
(heir Reverences may laugh at it in the
bed-chamber,- full well I wot, they will
abuse it in the parlor; for which cause, I
have been volving and revolving in my
fancy some time, but to.no purpose, by what
clean device, orfacette contrivance, I might
so modulate them, that whilst I satisfy that
ear which the reader chooses to lend me,


-I might not dissatisfy the other which he
keeps to himself.
-My ink burns my finger to try; and
when I have,-'twill have a worse consequence,-it will burn (I fear) my paper.
-No;-I dare not.              /
But if you wish to know how the Abbess
of Andouillets and a novice of her convent
got over the difficulty, (only first wishing
myself all imaginable success)-I'll tell you
without the least scruple.
CHAP. XXI.
THE Abbess of Andouillets, which, if you
look into the large set of provincial maps
now publishing at Paris, you will find
situated amongst the hills which divide
Burgundy from Savoy, being in danger of
an anchylosis, or stiff joint, (the sinovia of
her knee, becoming hard by long matins)
and having tried every remedy:-First,
prayers and thanksgivings;-then invocations to all the saints in Heaven, promiscuously;-then particularly to every saint
who had ever had a stiff leg before her;then touching it with all the relies of the convent, principally with the thigh-bone of the
man of Lystra, who had been impotent from
his youth; then wrapping it up in her veil
when she went to- bed;-then cross-wise
her rosary;-then bringing in to her aid the
secular arm, and anointing it with oils and
hot fat of animals;-then treating it with
emollient and resolving fomentations;then with poultices of marsh-mallows, mallows, bonus Henricus, white lilies, and fenugreek;-then taking the woods, I mean the
smoke of'em, holding her scapulary across
her lap;-then decoctions of wild chicory,
water-cresses, chervil, sweet cecily, and
cochlearia; and nothing all this while answering, was prevailed on at last to try the
hot baths of Bourbon:-so having first obtained leave of the visitor-general to take
care of her existence,-shie ordered all to
be got ready for her journey. A novice of
the convent, of about seventeen, who had
been troubled with a whitloe in her middle
finger, by sticking it constantly into the
Abbess's cast poultices, &c.-had gained
such an interest, that overlooking a sciatical
old nun, who might have been set up for




212


LIFE AND OPINIONS


ever by the hot baths of Bourbon, Margarita, the little novice, was elected as the
companion of the journey.
An old calash, belonging to the Abbess,
lined with green frieze, was ordered to be
drawn out into the sun. The gardener of
the convent, being chosen muleteer, led out
the two old mules, to clip the hair from the
rump-ends of their tails; whilst a couple of
lay-sisters were busied, the one in darning
the lining, and the other in sewing on the
shreds of yellow binding, which the teeth
of time had unravelled;-the under-gardener dressed the muleteer's hat in hot
wine-lees;-and a taylor sat musically at
it, in a shed over-against the convent, in
assorting four dozen of bells for the harness,
whistling to each bell as he tied it on with
a thong.
-The carpenter and the smith of Andouillets held a council of wheels; and by
seven, the morning after, all look'd spruce,
and was ready at the gate of the convent
for the hot baths of Bourbon.-Two rows
of the unfortunate stood ready there an
hour before.
The Abbess of Andouillets, supported by
Margarita the novice, advanced slowly to
the calash, both clad in white, with their
black rosaries hanging at their breasts.
-There was a simple solemnity in the
contrast; they entered the-calash; the nuns
in the same uniform, sweet emblem of innocence, each occupied a window, and as the
Abbess and Margarita look'd up,-each (the
sciatical poor nun excepted)-each stream'd
out the end of her veil in the air,-then
kiss'd the lily hand which let it go. The
good Abbess and Margarita laid their hands
saint-wise upon their breasts,-look'd up to
Heaven,-then to them,-and look'd "God
"bless you, dear sisters."
I declare I am interested in this story,
and wish I had been-there.
The gardener, whom I shall now call the
muleteer, was a little, hearty, broad-set,
good-natured, chattering, toping kind of a
fellow, who troubled his head very little
with the hows and whens of life; so had
rortgag'd a month of his conventicle wages
n. a borrachio, or leathern cask of wine,
which he had disposed behind the calash,
with a large russet-colored riding-coat over
it tc guard it lrom the sun; and as the


weather was hot, and he not a niggard ot
his labors, walking ten times more than he
rode,-he found more occasions than those
of nature, to fall back to the rear of his
carriage; till by frequent coming and going
it had so happen'd, that all his wine had
leak'd out at the legal vent of the borrachio,
before one half of the journey was finish'd.
Man is a creature born to habitudes. The
day had been sultry,-the evening was delicious,-the wine was generous,-the Burgundian hill on which it grew was steep,
-a little tempting bush, over the door of a
cool cottage, at the foot of it, hung vibrating in fulf harmony with the passions,-a
gentle air rustled distinctly through the
leaves,-"Come,-come,-thirsty muleteer,
-come in."
-The muleteer was a son of Adam: I
need not say one word more. He gave the
mules, each of'em, a sound lash, and looking in the Abbess's and Margarita's faces
(as he did it)-as much as to say, "here I
"am,"-he gave a second good crack,-as
much as to say to his mules, "get on;"-so
slinking behind, he enter'd the little inn at
the foot of the hill.
The muleteer, as I told you, was a little
joyous, chirping fellow, who thought not of
to-morrow, nor of what had gone before, or
what was to follow it, provided he got but
his scantling of Burgundy, and a little chitchat along with it; so entering into a long
conversation, as:how he was chief gardener
to the convent of Andouillets, &c. &c. and
out of friendship for the Abbess and Mademoiselle Margarita, who was only in her
noviciate, he had come along with them
from the confines of Savoy, &c. &c.-and
as how she had got a white swelling by her
devotions; and what a nation of herbs he
had procured to mollify her humors, &c. &c.
-and that if the waters of Bourbon did not
mend that leg,-she might as well be lame
of both, &c. &c. &c.-He so contrived his
story, as absolutely to forget the heroine of
it,-and with her the little novice; and what
was a more ticklish point to be forgot than
both,-the two mules; who being creatures
that take advantage of the world, inasmuch
as their parents took it of them,-and they
not being in a condition to return the obligation downwards (as men, and women,
and beasts are)-they do it side-ways, and




OF TRISTRAM SHANDY.


213


long-ways, and back-ways, -and up hill,
and down hill, and which way they can.Philosophers, with all their ethics, have
never considered this rightly:-how should
the poor muleteer, then, in his cups, consider it at all? He did not in the least;-'tis time we do. Let us leave him then in
the vortex of his element, the happiest and
most thoughtless of mortal men,-and for
a moment let us look after the mules, the
Abbess, and Margarita.
By virtue of the muleteer's two last
strokes, the mules had gone quietly on, following their own consciences up the hill,
till they had conquer'd about one" half of it;
when the elder of them, a shrewd crafty
old devil, at the turn of an angle, giving a
side-glance and no muleteer behind them,By my fig! said she, swearing, I'll go no
further. —And if I do, replied the other,
they shall make a drum of my hide.
-And so, with one consent, they stopp'd


this wicked stiff joint T why did I leave the
convent of Andouillets 1 and why didst thou
not suffer thy servant to go unpolluted to
her tomb 10 my finger! my finger! cried the novice, catching fire at the word servant,why was I not content to put it here, or
there  anywhere, rather than be in this
strait?
-Strait! said the Abbess.
-Strait! said the novice; for terror had
struck their understandings,-the one knew
not what she said,-the other what she
answer'd.
-0 my virginity! virginity! cried the
Abbess.
-inity!-inity! said the novice, sobbing.
CHAP. XXIV.


thus:-                                 MY dear mother, quoth the novice, corn
ing a little to herself,-there are two certain words, which I have been told will
-force any horse, or ass, or mule, to go -up a
hill whether he will or not: be he ever so
CHAP. XXII.
obstinate or ill-will'd, the moment he hears
-GET on with you, said the Abbess.  them uttered, he obeys.-They are words
-Wh —-— y yysh,-         ysh, - cried magic! cried the Abbess, in the utmost
Margarita.                            horror.- No, replied Margarita, calmly,
-Sh - - - a,-shu - u,-shu - u,-sh - - aw, but they are words sinful-What are they 
-shaw'd the Abbess.                   quoth the Abbess, interrupting her.-They
-Whu-v-w,-whew-w-w,- are sinful in the first degree, answered
whuv'd Margarita, pursing up her sweet Margarita;-they are mortal;-and if we
lips betwixt a hoot and a whistle.    are ravish'd and die unabsolv'd of them, we
Thump, - thump, - thump, -obstrepe- shall both-But you may pronounce them
rated the Abbess of Andouillets, with the to me, quoth the Abbess of Andouillets.end of her gold-headed cane against the They cannot, my dear mother, said the
bottom of the calash.                 novice, be pronounced at all; they will
-The old mule let a f-             make all the blood in one's body fly up into
one's face.-But you may whisper them in
my ear, quoth the Abbess.
Heaven! hadst thou no guardian angel
CHAP. XXIII.              to delegate to the inn at the bottom of the
hill 1 Was there no generous and friendly
WE are ruin'd and undone, my child, said spirit unemployed — no agent in nature,
the Abbess to Margarita;- we shall be by some monitory shivering creeping along
here all night:-we shall be plunder'd,- the artery which led to his heart, to rouse
we shall be ravish'd!                the muleteer from his banquet -no sweet
We shall be ravish'd, said Margarita, as minstrelsy to bring back the fair idea of the
sure as a gun.                        Abbess and Margarita, with their black
-Sancta Maria! cried the Abbess (for- rosaries?
getting the 0/)-why was I govern'd by   Rouse! rouse!-but'Us too late;-the




214                        LIFE AND
horrid words are pronounced this moment,
-and how to tell them,-Ye, who can speak
of every thing existing with unpolluted
lips,-instruct me,-guide me!
CHAP. XXV.
ALL sins whatever, quoth the Abbess,
turning casuist in the distress they were
under, are held by the confessor of our convent to be either mortal or venial: there
is no further division.-Now, a venial sin
being the slightest and least of all sins,being halved,-by taking either only the
half of it, and leaving the rest,-or, by taking it all, and amicably halving it betwixt
yourself and another person,-in course
becomes diluted into no sin at all.
Now I see no sin in saying bou, bou, bou,
bou, bou, a hundred times together; nor is
there any turpitude in pronouncing the
syllable ger, ger, ger, ger, ger, were it
from our matins to our vespers.-Therefore, my dear daughter, continued the Abbess of Andouillets,-I will say bou, and
thou shalt say ger; and then alternately, as
there is no more sin in fou than in bou;thou shalt say fou,-and I will come in
(like fa, sol, la, re, mi, ut, at our complines)
with ter: - and accordingly the Abbess,
giving the pitch-note, set off thus:
Abbess,      Bou- -bou- -bou --
Margarita,  — ger, -- ger, - -ger.
Margarita,   Fou - - fou - - fou- -
Abbess,     — ter, - ter, -- ter.
The two mules acknowledged the notes
by a mutual lash of their tails; but it went
no further.-'Twill answer by and by, said
the novice.Abbess,    f Bou- bou- bou- bou- bou- bouMargarita      ger, ger, ger, ger, ger, ger, ge.
Quicker still, cried Margarita.
Fou, fou, fou, fou, fou, fou, fou, fou, fou,
tou.
Quicker still, cried Margarita.
Bou, bou, bou, bou, bou, bou, bou, bou,
bou.
Quicker still.-God preserve me, said
the Abbess.-They do not understand us,
cried Margarita.-But the Devil does, said
the Abbess of Andouillets.


OPINIONS


CHAP. XXVI.


WHAT a tract of country have I run!how many degrees nearer to the warm sun
am I advanced, and how many fair and
goodly cities have I seen, during the time
you have been reading and reflecting,
Madam, upon this story!-There's Fontainbleau, and Sens, and Joigny, and Auxerre,
and Dijon the capital of Burgundy, and
Challon, and Macon the capital of the Maconese, and a score more upon the road to
Lyons; —and now I have run them over,I might as well talk to you of so many
market-towns in the moon, as tell you one
word about them: it will be this chapter at
the least, if not both this and the next entirely lost, do what I will.Why,'tis a strange story! Tristram.
-Alas! Madam,
had it been upon some melancholy lecture
of the cross,-the peace of meekness, or
the contentment of resignation,-I had not
been incommoded; or had I thought of
writing it upon the purer abstractions of
the soul, and that the food of wisdom, and
holiness, and contemplation, upon which
the spirit of man (when separated from the
body) is to subsist for ever,-you would
have come with a better appetite from it.
I wish I never had wrote it: but as I
never blot any thing out,-let us use some
honest means to get it out of our heads
directly.
Pray reach me my fool's cap:-I fear you
sit upon it, Madam;-'tis under the cushion:
-I'll put it on.Bless; me! you have had it upon your
head this half hour.-There then let it
stay, with a
Fa-ra diddle di
and a fa-ri diddle d
and a high-dum,-dye-dum
fiddle - - - dum - c.
And now, madam, we may venture, I hope,
a little to go on.
CHAP. XXVII.
ALL yOU need say of Fontainbleau (in
case you are ask'd,) is, that it stands about
forty miles (south something) from Paris,




OF TRISTRAM SHANDY.


215




in the middle of a large forest:-that there
is something great in it:-that the King
goes there once every two or three years,
with his whole court, for the pleasure of
the chase; and that, during that carnival of
sporting, an English gentleman of fashion
(you need not forget yourself) may be accommodated with a nag or two, to partake
of the sport, taking care only not to outgallop the KingThough there are two reasons why you
need not talk loud of this to every one.
First, Because'twill make the said nags
the harder to be got; and,
Secondly,'Tis not a word of it true.Allons!
As for Sens, you may dispatch it in a
word;-"'Tis an archiepiscopal see."
For Joigny,-the less, I think, one says
of it, the better.
But for Auxerre, I could go on for ever:
for in my grand tour through Europe, in
which, after all, my father (not caring to
trust me with any one) attended me himself, with my uncle Toby, and Trim, and
Obadiah, and indeed most of the family,
except my mother, who being taken up
with a project of knitting my father a pair
of large worsted breeches-(the thing is
common sense)-and she not caring to be
put out of her way, she staid at home, at
Shandy-hall, to keep things right during
the expedition; in which, I say, my father
stopping us two days at Auxerre, and his
researches being ever of such a nature,
that they would have found fruit even in a
desert,-he has left me enough to say upon
Auxerre. In short, wherever my father
went;-but'twas more remarkably so in
this journey through France and Italy, than
in any other stages of his life;-his road
seemed to lie so much on one side of that,
wherein all other travellers have gone before him,-he saw Kings, and courts, and
silks of all colors, in such strange lights;
-and his remarks, and reasonings upon
the characters, the manners, and customs
of the countries we pass'd over, were so
opposite to those of all other mortal men,
particularly those of my uncle Toby and
Trim-(to say nothing of myself;)-and to
crown all,-the occurrences and scrapes
which we were perpetually meeting and
getting into, in consequence of his systems


and opiniatry,-they were of so odd, so
mix'd and tragi-comical a contexture,-that
the whole put together, it appears of so different a shade and tint from any tour in
Europe, which was ever executed,-that I
will venture to pronounce,-the fault must
be mine, and mine only,-ii it be not read
by all travellers and travel-readers, till travelling is no more,-or, which comes to the
same point,-till the world, finally, takes it
into its head to stand still.
But this rich bale is not to be opened
now, except a small thread or two of it,
merely to unravel the mystery of my father's
stay at Auxerre.
As I have mentioned it,-'tis too slight
to be kept suspended; and when'tis wove
in, there is an end of it.We'll go, brother Toby, said my father,
whilst dinner is coddling, —to the abbey of
Saint Germain, if it be only to see these
bodies, of which Monsieur Sequier has
given such a recommendation.-I'll go see
any body, quoth my uncle Toby; for he
was all compliance through every step of
the journey.-Defend me! said my father,
-they are all mummies.-Then one need
not shave, quoth my uncle Toby.-Shave!
no,-cried my father,-'twill be more like
relations to go with our beards on.-So out
we sallied, the Corporal lending his master
his arm, and bringing up the rear, to the
abbey of St. Germain.Every thing is very fine, and very rich,
and very superb, and very magnificent, said
my father, addressing himself to the sacristan, who was a younger brother of the order
of Benedictines;-but our curiosity has led
us to see the bodies, of which Monsieur
Sequier has given the world so exact a
description.-The sacristan made a bow,
and lighting a torch first, which he had always in the vestry ready for the purpose,
he led us into the tomb of St. Heribald.This, said the sacristan, laying his hand
upon the tomb, was a renown'd prince of
the house of Bavaria, who, under the successive reigns of Charlemagne, Louis le
Debonnair, and Charles the Bald, oore a
great sway in the government, and had a
principal hand in bringing every thing into
order and discipline.Then he has been as great, said my uncle, in the field as in the cabinet-I dare




216


LIFE AND OPINIONS


say he has been a gallant soldier.-He was
a monk,-said the sacristan.My uncle Toby and Trim sought comfort in each other's faces,-but found it not.
-My father clapp'd both his hands upon
his cod-piece, which was a way he had
when any thing hugely tickled him: for
though he hated a monk, and the very smell
of a monk, worse, than all the Devils in
hell,-yet, the shot hitting my uncle Toby
and Trim so much harder than him,'twas
a relative triumph, and put him into the
gayest humor in the world.And pray what do you call this gentleman? quoth my father, rather sportingly.This tomb, said the young Benedictine,
looking downwards, contains the bones of
St. Maxima, who came from Ravenna on
purpose to touch the body —
Of St. Maximus, said my father, popping
in with his saint before him,-they were
two of the greatest saints in the whole
martyrology, added my father.-Excuse me,
said the sacristan,-'twas to touch the
bones of St. Germain, the builder of the
abbey.-And what did she get by it? said
my uncle Toby.-What does any woman
get by it' said my father.-Martyrdom, replied the young Benedictine, making a bow
down to the ground, and uttering the word
with so humble but decisive a cadence, it
disarmed my father for a moment.-'Tis
supposed, continued the Benedictine, that
St. Maxima has lain in this tomb four hundred years, and two hundred before her
canonization.-'Tis but a slow rise, brother
Toby, quoth my father, in this self-same
army of martyrs.-A desperate slow one,
an' please your Honor, said Trim, unless
one could purchase.-I should rather sell
out entirely, quoth my uncle Toby.-I am
pretty much of your opinion, brother Toby,
said my father.
Poor St. Maxima! said my uncle Toby,
low to himself, as we turn'd from the tomb.
-She was one of the fairest and most beautiful ladies either of Italy or France, continued the sacristan.-But who the deuce
has got lain down here, beside her? quoth
my father, pointing with his cane to a large
tomb as we walked on.-It is Saint Optat,
Sir, answered the sacristan.-And properly
is Saint Optat placed! said my father; and
wnaT is Saint Optat's story 3 continued he.


-Saint Optat, replied the sacristan, was a
bishop.-I thought so, by Heaven! cried my
father, interrupting him;-Saint Optat!how should Saint Optat fail?-So snatching
out his pocket-book, and the young Benedictine holding him the torch as he wrote,
he set it down as a new prop to his system
of Christian names: and I will be bold to
say, so disinterested was he in the search
of truth, that, had he found a treasure in
Saint Optat's tomb, it would not have made
him half so rich;'twas as successful a short
visit as ever was paid to the' dead; and so
highly was his fancy pleased with all that
had passed in it, that he determined at once
to stay another day in Auxerre.
-I'll see the rest of these good gentry
to-morrow, said my father, as we crossed
over the square.-And while you are paying that visit, brother Shandy, quoth my
uncle Toby, the Corporal and I will mount
the ramparts.
CHAP. XXVIII
-Now this is the most puzzled skein of
all; —for in this last chapter, as far as it has
help'd me through Auxerre, I have been
getting forwards in two different journeys
together, and with the same dash of the
pen;-for I have got entirely out of Auxerre
in this journey which I am writing now,
and I am got half-way out of Auxerre in
that which I shall write hereafter.-There
is but a certain degree of perfection in
every thing; and, by pushing at something
beyond that, I have brought myself into
such a situation, as no traveller ever stood
before me; for I am this moment walking
across the market-place of Auxerre, with
my father and my uncle Toby, in our way
back to dinner;-and I am this moment
also entering Lyons, with my post-chaise
broke into a thousand pieces:-and I am,
moreover, this moment in a handsome pavilion, built by Pringello,* upon the banks
of the Garonne, which Mons. Sligniac has


* The famous Don Pringello, the celebrated Spanish
architect, of whom my cousin Anthony has made
such honorable mention, in a scholium to the Tale
inscribed to his name.-Vid. p. 129, small edit.




OF TRISTRAM SHANDY.


217


lent me, and where I now sit rhapsodizing
all these affairs.
-Let me collect myself, and pursue my
journey.
CHAP. XXIX.
I AM glad of it, said I, settling the account with myself, as I walk'd into Lyons,my chaise being all laid higgledy-piggledy
with my baggage in a cart, which was
moving slowly before me.-I am heartily
glad, said I, that'tis all broke to pieces; for
now I can go directly by water to Avignon,
which will- carry me on a hundred and
twenty miles of my journey, and not cost
me seven livres;- and from thence, continued I, bringing forwards the accounts, I
can hire a couple of mules,-or asses, if I
like (for nobody knows me) and cross the
plains of Languedoc for almost nothing:
-I shall gain four hundred livres by the
misfortune clear into my purse;' and pleasure! worth,-worth double the money, by
it. With what velocity, continued I, clapping
my two hands together, shall I fly down the
rapid Rhone, with the Vivares on my right
hand, and Dauphiny on my left, scarce
seeing the ancient cities of Vienne, Valence,
and Vivieres! What a flame will it rekindle
in the lamp, to snatch a blushing grape
from the Hermitage and Cote Roti, as I
shoot by the foot of them! and what a fresh
spring in the blood.! to behold upon the
banks, advancing and retiring, the castles
of romance, whence courteous knights have
whilom rescued the distress'd;-and see,
vertiginous, the rocks, the mountains, the
cataracts, and all the hurry which Nature
is in with all her great works about her!
As I went on thus, methought my chaise,
the wreck of which look'd stately enough
at the first, insensibly grew less and less in
its size; the freshness of the painting was
no more,-the gilding lost its lustre,-and
the whole affair appeared so poor in my
eyes! -so sorry!-so contemptible!-and,
m a word, so much worse than the Abbess
of Andouillet's itself,-that I was just opening my mouth to give it to the Devil,when a pert, vamping chaise-undertaker,
eteFping nimbly across the street, demand2C


ed if Monsieur would have his chaise refitted.-No, no, said I, shaking my head
sideways.-W-ould Monsieur choose to sell
it? rejoined the undertaker.-With all my
soul, said I;-the iron-work is worth forty
livres,-and the glasses worth forty more,
-and the leather you may take to live on.
-What a mine of wealth, quoth I, as
he counted me the money, has this postchaise brought me in! And this is my usual
method of book-keeping, at least with the
disasters of life,-making a penny of every
one of'em as they happen to me.
-Do, my dear Jenny, tell the world for
me how I behaved under one, the most oppressive of its kind, which could befall me
as a man, proud as he ought to be of his
manhood.'Tis enough, saidst thou, coming close
up to me, as I stood with my garters in my
hand, reflecting upon what had not passed,
-'Tis enough, Tristram, and I am satisfied, saidst thou, whispering these words in
my ear,   *         *     *    *     *
*    *    *.     *     *     *    *
-any other man would have sunk down to
the centre.
-Every thing is good for something,
quoth I.
-I'll go into WTales for six weeks, and
drink goat's whey,-and I'll gain seven
years longer life for the accident. For
which reason I think myself inexcusable
for blaming Fortune so often as I have done,
for pelting me all my life long, like an un
gracious duchess, as I call'd her, with so
many small evils. Surely, if I have any
cause to-be angry with her,'tis that she
has not sent me great ones:-a score of
good cursed, bouncing losses, would have
been as good as a pension to me.
-One' of a hundred a year, or so, is all
I wish:-I would not be at the plague of
paying land-tax for a larger
CHAP. XXX.
To those who call vexations, vexatzon.,
as knowing what they are, there could not
be a greater, than to be the best part of a
day at Lyons, the most opulent and flourishing city in France, enrich cl wih'he
19




218


LIE ANDI OPTENIONS


most fragments of antiquity,-and not be and see the pillar to which Christ was tied,
able to see it. To be withheld upon any -and, after that, the house where Pontius
account, must be a vexation; but to be Pilate lived.-'Twas at the next town, said
withheld by a vexation,-must certainly be the valet de place, at Vienne.-I am glad
what philosophy justly calls           of it, said I, rising briskly from my chair,
VEXATION                and walking across the room with strides
upon                  twice as long as my usual pace;-' "for so
VEXATION.'              "much the sooner shall I be at the Tomb
I had got my two dishes of milk-coffee "of the Two Lovers."
(which, by the bye, is excellently good for  What was the cause of this movement,
a consumption; but you must boil the milk and why I took such long strides in uttering
and coffee together, -otherwise'tis only this,-I might leave to the curious too;
coffee and milk)-and as it was no more but, as no principle of clock-work is conthan eight in the morning, and the boat did cerned in it, -'twill be as well for the
not go off till noon, I had time to see enough reader if I explain it myself.
of Lyons to tire the patience of all the
friends I had in the world with it. I-will
take a walk to the cathedral, said I, looking
at my list, and see the wonderful mechanism of this great clock of Lippius of Basil,       CHAP. XXXI.
in the first place.
Now, of all things in the world, I under-  0'! THERE is a sweet era' in the life of
stand the least of mechanism;-I have man, when (the brain being tender and
neither genius, or taste, or fancy,-and have fibrillous, and more like pap than any thing
a brain so entirely unapt for every thing of else)-a story read of two fond lovers,
that kind, that I solemnly declare I was separated from, each other by cruel parents,
never yet able to comprehend the principles and by still more cruel destinyof motion of a squirrel-cage, or a common        Amandus —He,
knife-grinder's wheel,-though I have many        Amanda-She,an hour of my life look'd up with great de- each ignorant of the other's course;
votion at the one,-and stood by with as          He-east,
much patience as any christian ever could         She-west:
do at the other.                       Amandus taken captive by the Turks, and
I'll go see the surprising movements of carried to the Emperor of Morocco's court,
this great clock, said I, the very first thing where the Princess of Morocco, falling in
1 do: and then I will pay a visit to the love with him, keeps him twenty years in
great library of the Jesuits, and procure, if prison for the love of his Amanda.
possible, a sight of the thirty volumes of  She (Amanda) all the time wandering
the general history of China, wrote (not in barefoot, and with dishevell'd hair, o'er
the Tartarian, but) in the Chinese language, rocks and miiountains, inquiring for Amanand in the Chinese character too.      dus!-Amandus! Amandus!-making every
Now, I almost know as little of the Chi- hill and valley to echo back his namenese language, as I do of the mechanism         Amandus! Amandus!
of Lippius's clock-work: so, why these at every town and city, sitting down forlorn
should have jostled themselves into the two at the gate:-Has Amandus!-has my
first articles of my list,-I leave to the cu- Amandus enter'd — till,-going round, and
rious as a problem of Nature. I own, it round, and round the world,-chance unexlooks like one of her ladyship's obliquities; pectedly bringing them at the same moment
and they who court her, are interested in of the night, though by different ways, to
tinding out her humor as much as I.   the gate of Lyons, their native city, and
When these curiosities are seen, quoth I, each in well-known accents calling out'alf addressing myself to my valet de aloud,
place, who stood behind me,-'twill be no     Is Amandus
hurt if we go to the church of St. Irenmus,  Is mv Amanda   still alive.




OF TRISTRAM      SHANDY.                       219
they fly into each other's arms, and both and cabbage-leaves; and stood dubious, with
drop down dead for joy.               his two fore-feet on the inside of the thirehThere is a soft era in every gentle mor- old, andwith his two hinder-feet towards
tal's life, where such a story affords more the street, as not knowing very well whether
pabulum to the brain than all the Frusts, he was to-go in or no.
and Crusts, and Rusts of antiquity, which  Now,'tis an animal (be in what hurry 1
travellers can cook up for it.        may) I cannot bear to strike:-there is a
-'Twas all that stuck on the right side patient endurance of sufferings, wrote so
of the cullender in my own, of what Spon unaffectedly in his looks and carriage,
and others, in their accounts of Lyons, had which pleads so mightily for him, that it
strained into it; and finding, moreover, in always disarms me; and to that degree,
some Itinerary, but in what, God knows,- that I do not like to speak unkindly to him:
that, sacred to the fidelity of Amandus and on the contrary, meet him where I will,
Amanda, a tomb was built without the whether in town or country,-in cart, or
gates, where, to this hour, lovers called under panniers,- whether in liberty or
upon them to attest their truths,-I never bondage,-I have ever something civil to
could get into a scrape of that kind in my say to him on my part; and as one word
life, but this tomb of the lovers would, begets another (if he has as little to do as I)
somehow or other, come in at the close; -I generally fall into conversation with
nay, such a kind of empire had it estab- him; and surely never is my imagination
lish'd over me, that I could seldom think or so busy as in framing his responses from
speak of Lyons;-and sometimes, not so the etchings of his countenance, and where
much as see even a Lyons-waistcoat, but those carry me not deep enough,-in fying
this remnant of antiquity would present it- from my own heart into his, and seeing
self to my fancy; and I have often said in what is natural for an ass to think,-as well
my wild way of running on,-though I fear as a man, upon the occasion. In truth, it
with some irreverence,-"I thought this is the only creature of all the classes of
shrine (neglected as it was) as valuable as beings below me, with whom I can do this;
that of Mecca, and so little short, except in -for parrots, jackdaws, &c. I never exwealth, of the Santa Casa itself, that, change a word with them,-nor with apes,
some time or other, I would go a pilgrimage &c. for pretty near the same reason; they
(though I had no other business at Lyons) act by rote, as the others speak by it, and
on purpose to pay it a visit."        equally make me silent: nay, my dog and
In my list, therefore, of Videnda at Ly- my cat, though I value them both-(and,
ons, this, though last,-was not, you see, for my dog, he would speak if he could)least; so taking a dozen or two of longer yet, somehow or other, they neither of them
strides than usual across my room, just possess the talents for conversation;-I can
while it passed my brain, I walked down make nothing of a discourse with them becalmly into the Basse Cour, in order to yond the proposition, the reply, and rejoinsally forth; and, having called for my bill, der, which terminated mf father's and my
-as it was uncertain whether I should re- mother's conversation in his beds of justice;
turn to my inn, I had paid it,-and, more- -and those utter'd,-there's an end of the
over, given the maid ten sous, and was just dialogue.
receiving the dernier compliments of Mon-  -But with an ass, I can commune for
sieur Le Blanc, for a pleasant voyage down ever.
the Rhone,-when I was stopp'd at the    -Come, Honesty-! said I,- seeing it was
gate                                  impracticable to pass betwixt him and the
gate,-art thou for coming in or going out'
-The ass twisted his head round, to look
CHAP. XXXII.               up the street.
-Well, replied I, we'll wait a minute for'TWAS by a poor ass, who had just turned thy driver.
in with a couple of large panniers upon his  -He turned his head thoughtful about,
back, to collect eleemosynary turnip-tops and looked wistfully the opposite wav




220. LIFE -AND OPINIONS


I understand thee perfectly, answered I: come in here;-but this I leave to be set.
— if thou takest a wrong step in this affair, tied by
he will cudgel thee to death.-Well, a                  THE
minute is but a minute, and, if it saves a          REVIEWERS
fellow-creature a drubbing, it shall not be             OF
set down as ill spent.                             MY BREECHES,
He was eating the stem of an artichoke which I have brought over along with me
a this discourse went on, and, in the little for that purpose.
peevish contentions of nature betwixt hunger and unsavoriness, had dropt it out of
his mouth half a dozen times, and pick'd it
up again.-God help thee, Jack! said I, thou      CHAP. XXXIlI.
hast a bitter breakfast on't,-and many a
bitter day's labor,-and many a bitter blow,  WHEN all was set to rights, I came down
I fear, for its wages!-'tis all-all bitter- stairs again into the Basse Cour with my
ness to thee, whatever life is to others!-  valet de place, in order to sally out towards
And now, thy mouth, if one knew the truth the tomb of the two lovers, &c.-and was a
of it, is as bitter, I dare say, as soot-(for he second time stopp'd at the gate;-not by
had cast aside the stem) and thou hast not a the ass,-but by the person who struck him;
friend, perhaps, in all this world, that will and who, by that time, had taken possession
give thee a macaroon.-In saying this, I (as is not uncommon after a defeat) of the
pull'd out a paper of'em, which I had just very spot of ground where the ass stood.
purchased, and gave him one,-and, at this  It was a commissary sent to me from the
moment that I am telling it, my heart smites post-office, with a rescript in his hand, for
me, that there was more of pleasantry in the payment of some six livres odd sous.
the conceit of seeing how an ass would eat  Upon what account said I.-'Tis upon
a macaroon,-than of benevolence in giving the part of the King, replied the commishim one, which presided in the act.   sary, heaving up both his shoulders.
When the ass had eaten his macaroon, I  -My good friend, quoth I,-as sure as I
press'd him to come in;-the poor beast am I,-and you are you,was heavy loaded, —his legs seemed to   -And who are you? said he,
tremble under him,-he hung rather back-  -Don't puzzle me, said I.
wards; and, as I pull'd at his halter, it broke
short in my hand.-He look'd up pensive
in my face-" Don't thrash me with it;but, if you will, you may." —" If I do," said
I, "I'll be d-d."                                CHAP. XXXVIL
The word was but one half of it pronounced, like the Abbess of Andouillets'-  -BUT it is an indubitable verity, contml(so there was no sin in it)-when a person ued I, addressing myself to the commissary,
coming in, let fall a thundering bastinado changing only the form of my asseveration,
upon the poor devil's crupper, which put an -that I owe the King of France nothing
end to the ceremony.                  but my good-will; for he is a very honest
Out upon it!                  man, and I wish him all health and pastime
cried I; —but the interjection was equivo- in the world.
cal, and, I think, wrong placed too,-for the  Pardonnez moi,-replied the commissaend of an osier which had started out from ry; you are indebted to him six livres four
the contexture of the ass's pannier, had sous for the next post from hence to St. Fons,
naught hold of my breeches-pocket as he in your route to Avignon;-which being a
rush'd by me, and rent it in the most disas- post royal, you pay double for the horses.rous direction you can imagine;-so that and postilion - otherwise,'twould have.he                                   amounted to no more than three livres two
Om upon it! in my opinion, should have sc us.




OF TRISTRAM SHANDY.


221


-But I don't go by land, Said I.                CHAP.    XXV.
-You may, if you please, replied the
Lommissary.                             As I perceived the commissary of the
-Your most obedient servant,-said I, post-office would have his six livres four
making him a low bow.                 sous, I had nothing else for it, but to say
The commissary, with all the sincerity some smart thing upon the occasion, worth
of grave good breeding,-made me one as the money:
low again,-I never was more disconcerted  And so I set off thus:with a bow in my life.                  And pray, Mr. Commissary, by what law
-The Devil take the serious character of courtesy is a defenceless stranger to be
of these people! quoth I-(aside) -they used just the reverse from what you use a
understand no more of irony than this-  Frenchman in this matter 1
The comparison was standing close by  -By no means, said he.
with his panniers,-but something sealed  -Excuse me, said I;-for you have be,
up my lips;-I could not pronounce the gun, Sir, with tearing off my breeches, —
qame.                                 and now you want my pocket.
-Sir, said I, collecting myself.-it is not  Whereas,-had you first taken my pocket,
my intention to take post.            as you do with your own people,-and then
-But you may,-said he, persisting in left me bare a-'d after,-I had been a
his first reply;-you may take post, if you beast to have complain'd.
choose.                                 As it is,-And I may take salt to my pickled    -'Tis contrary to the law of nat'wre
herring, said I, if i choose.           -'Tis contrary to reason,
— But I do not choose.                -'Tis contrary to the Gospel.
-But you must pay for it, whether you  -But not to this,-said he,-putting a
do or no.                             printed paper into my hand: —


-Ay! for the salt, said I (I know).
-And for the post too, added he.-Defend me! cried I.
— I travel by water;-I am going down
the Rhone this very afternoon;-my baggage is in the boat,-and I have actually
paid nine livres for my passage.
C'est tout egal,-'tis all one, said he.
-Bon Dieu! what, pay for the way I
go! and for the way I do not go!
C'est tout egal, replied the commissary.
-The Devil it is! said I;-but I will
go to ten thousand Bastiles first.
0 England! England! thou land of liberty,
and climate of good sense! thou tenderest
of mothers, and gentlest of nurses! cried I,
kneeling upon one knee as I was beginning
my apostrophe,When the director of Madame Le Blanc's
conscience coming in at that instant, and
seeing a person in black, with a face as pale
as ashes, at his devotions, —looking still
paler by the contrast and distress of his
drapery,-ask'd if I stood in want of the
aids of the church!
— I go by water, said I;-and here's another will be for making me pay for going
by oil 


PAR LE ROY.
-'Tis a pitIy prolegomenon, quoth I;and so read on     -      -    -    -


-By all which it appears, quoth I, having read it over a little too rapidly, that if a
man sets out in a post-chaise from Paris,he must go on travelling in one all the days
of his life,-or pay for it.-Excuse me, said
the commissary, the spirit of the ordinance
is this:-That if you set out with an intention of running post from Paris to Avignon,
&c. you shall not change that intention, or
mode of travelling, without first satisfying
the fermiers for two posts further than the
place you repent at;-and'tis founded,
continued he, upon this, That the Revenues
are not to fall short through your fickleness.
-0 by Heavens! cried I,-if fickleness
is taxable in France,-we have nothing to
do but to make the best peace with you we
can.
And so the peace was made;
-And if it is a bad one,- as Tristram
19*




222


LIFE AND OPINIONS


Shandy laid the corner-stone of it,-nobody
but Tristram Shandy ought to be hanged.
CHAP. XXXVI.
THOUGH I was sensible I had said as
many clever things to the commissary as
came to six livres four sous, yet I was
determined to note down the imposition
amongst my remarks, before I retired from
the place; so putting my hand into my coat
pocket for my remarks-(which, by the bye,
may be a caution to travellers to take a
little more care of their remarks for the
future) -"my remarks were stolen." —
Never did sorry traveller make such a
pother and racket about his remarks, as 1
did about mine, upon the occasion.
Heaven! earth! sea! fire! cried I, calling in every thing to my aid but what I
should,-mny remarks are stolen!-What
shall I do 7-Mr. Commissary! pray did I
drop any remarks as I stood beside you?You dropp'd a good many very singular
ones, replied he.-Pugh! said I, those were
but a few, not worth above six livres two
sous;-but these are a large parcel.-He
shook his head. - Monsieur Le Blanc!
Madame Le Blanc! did you see any papers
of mine l-You, maid of the house, run up
stairs!-Francois, run up after her!
-I must have my remarks;-they were
the best remarks, cried I, that ever were
made, -the wisest,-the wittiest. -What
shall I do? —Which way shall I turn myself?
Sancho Panca, when he lost his ass's
furniture, did not exclaim more bitterly.
CHAP. XXXVII.
WHEN the first transport was over, and.he registers of the brain were beginning
1o get a little out of the confusion into
which this jumble of cross accidents had,\ast them, —it then presently occurr'd to me,
that I left the remarks in the pocket of the
chaise; —and that, in selling my chaise, I,rad sold my remarks along with it, to the
ehaise-vamper.




1 leave this
void space, that the reader may swear into
it any oath he is most accustomed to.-For
my own part, if ever I swore a whole oath
into a vacancy in my life, I think it was
into that-* * *  **** *, said I; —and so
my remarks through France, which were
as full of wit as an egg is full of meat,and as well worth four hundred guineas as
the said egg is worth a penny,-have I been
selling here to a chaise-vamper,-for four
Louis d'Ors;-and giving him a post-chaise
(by Heaven!) worth six into the bargain;
had it been to Dodsley, or Becket, or any
creditable bookseller, who was either leaving off business, and wanted a post-chaise,
-or who was beginning it —and wanted
my remarks, and two or three guineas along
with them,-I could have borne it; but to
a chaise-vamper!-Show me to him this
moment, Frangois, said I. —The valet de
place put on his hat, and led the way;and I pull'd off mine as I pass'd the' commissary, and followed him.
CHAP. XXXVIII.
WHEN we arrived at the chaise-vamper's
house, both the house and the shop were
shut up: it was. the eighth of September,
the nativity of the blessed Virgin Mary,
mother of God.
-Tantarra-ra-tan-tivi,-the whole world
was going out a May-poling,-frisking here,
-capering there,-nobody cared a button
for me or my remarks; so I sat me down
upon a bench by the door, philosophizing
upon my condition. By a better fate than
usually attends me, I had not waited half
an hour, when the mistress came in to take
the papilliotes from off her hair, before she
went to the May-poles.
The French women, by the bye, love
May-poles d la folie;-that is, as much
as their matins.-Give'em but a May-pole,
whether in May, June, July, or September,
-they never count the times,-down it
goes,-'tis meat, drink, washing, and lodging to'em;-and had we but the policy,
an' please your Worships (as wood is a
little scarce in France) to send them but
plenty of Mav-poles,



OF TRISTRAM SHANDY.


22fi


The women would set them up; and
when they had done, they would dance
round them (and the men for company) till
they were all blind.
The wife of the chaise-vamper stepp'd
in, I told you, to take the papilliotes from
off her hair,-the toilet stands still for no
man,-so she jerk'd off her cap, to begin
with them, as she open'd the door; in doing
which one of them fell upon the ground:I instantly saw it was my own writing.
O Seigneur! cried I,-you have got all
my remarks upon your head, Madam!J'en suis bien mortifiee, said she:-'Tis
well, thinks I, they have stuck there,-for
could they have gone deeper, they would
have made such confusion in a French woman's noddle,-she had better have gone
with it unfrizzled to the day of eternity.
Tenez, said she:-so without any idea
of the nature of my suffering, she took
them from her curls, and put them gravely,
one by one, into my hat;-one was twisted
this way,-another twisted that.-Ay! by
my faith, and when they are published,
quoth I,They will be worse twisted still.
CHAP. XXXIX.
AND now for Lippius's clock! said I,
with the air of a man who had got through
all his difficulties;-nothing can prevent
us seeing that, and the Chinese History,
&c.-Except the time, said Francois;-for'tis almost eleven.-Then we must speed
the faster, said I, striding it away to the
cathedral.
I cannot say, in my heart, that it gave
me any concern in being told by one of the
minor canons, as I was entering the west
door,-that Lippius's great clock was all
out of joints, and had not gone for some
years. —It will give me the more time,
thought I, to peruse the Chinese history;
and besides, I shall be able to give the
world a better account of the clock in its
decay, than I could have done in its flourishing condition.
-And so away I posted to the college of
the Jesuits.
Now it is with the project of getting a


peep at the History of China, in Chinese
characters,-as with many others I could
mention, which strike,the fancy only at a
distance; for as I came nearer and nearer
to the point,-my blood cool'd,-the freak
gradually went off, till at length I would
not have given a cherry-stone to have it
gratified.-The truth was, my time was
short, and my heart was at the Tomb of the
Lovers.-I wish to God, said I, as I got the
rapper in my hand, that the key of the library may be but lost. It fell out as well,For all the Jesuits had got the colic --
and to that degree, as never was known it
the memory of the oldest practitionel.
CHAP. XL.
As I knew the geography of the Tomb
of the Lovers, as well as if I had lived
twenty years in Lyons; namely, that it was
upon the turning of my right hand, just
without the gate leading to the Fauxbourg
de Vaise,-I dispatched Francois to the
boat, that I might pay the homage I so long
ow'd it, without a witness of my weakness;
-I walk'd with all imaginable joy towards
the place.-When I saw the gate which
intercepted the tomb, my heart glowed
within me.
-Tender and faithful spirits! cried I,
addressing myself to Amandus and Amanda,
-long,-long have I tarried to drop this
tear upon your tomb.-I come,-I comeWhen I came,-there was no tomb to
drop it upon.
What would I have given for my uncle
Toby to have whistled Lillibullero!
CHAP. XLI.
No matter how or in what mouu,-uui L
flew from the Tomb of the Lovers,-or rather I did not flyfrom it-for there was no
such thing existing, and just got time
enough to the boat to save my passage:- 
and ere I had sailed a hundred yards) the
Rhone and the Saon met together, and car
ried me down merrily betwixt them.




224


LIFE: AND~ OPINIO~NS


But I have described this voyage down            CHAP. XLII.
the Rh6ne before I made it.
-So now I am at Avignon; and as there  I HAD now the whole south of France.
is nothing to see but the old house in which from the banks of the Rh6ne to those of
the Duke of Ormond resided, and nothing the Garonne, to traverse upon my mule at
to stop me but a short remark upon the my own leisure,-at my own leisure,-for
place, in three minutes you will see me I had left Death, the Lord knows,-and he
crossing the bridge upon a mule, with only,-how far behind me!-"I have fol
Francois upon a horse with my portman- "lowed many a man through France," quoth
teau behind him, and the owner of both, he;-" but never at this mettlesome rate."
striding the way before us, with a long gun -Still he followed,-and still I fled him,upon his shoulder, and a sword under his but I fled him cheerfully;-still he pursued,
arm, lest peradventure we should run away -but, like one who pursued his prey withwith his cattle. Had you seen my breeches out hope,-as he lagg'd, every step he lost
in entering Avignon,-though you'd have softened his looks.-Why should I fly him
seen them better, I think, as I mounted,-  at this rate?
you would not have thought the precaution  So, notwithstanding all the commissary
amiss, or found in your heart to have taken of the post-office had said, I changed the
it in dudgeon: for my own part, I took it mode of my travelling once more; and, afmost kindly; and determined to make him ter so precipitate and rattling a course as I
a present of them, when we got to the end had run, I flattered my fancy with thinking
of our journey, for the trouble they had put of my mule, and that I should traverse the
him to, of arming himself at all points rich plains of Languedoc upon his back,
against them.                          as slowly as foot could fall.
Before I go further,. let me get rid of my  There is nothing more pleasing to a travremark upon Avignon, which is this:-   eller, -or more terrible to travel-writers,
That I think it wrong, merely because a than a large rich plain, especially if it is
man's hat has been blown off his head, by without great rivers or bridges; and prechance, the first night he comes to Avignon, sents nothing to the eye but one unvaried
-that he should therefore say, " Avignon picture of plenty: for after they have once
"is more subject to high winds than any told you, that'tis delicious (or delightful as
"town in all France:" for which reason I the case happens;)-that the soil was gratelaid no stress upon the accident till I had ful, and that Nature pours out all her abuninquired of the master of the inn about it; dance, &c.... they have then a large
who telling me seriously it was so;-and plain upon their hands, which they know
hearing, moreover, the windiness of Avig- not what to do with,-and which is of little
non spoken of in the country about as a or no use to them, but to carry them to
proverb,-I set it down merely to ask the some town; and that town, perhaps of little
learned what can be the cause?-the con- more, but a new place to start from to the
sequence I saw, for they are all Dukes, next plain,-and so on.
Marquisses, and Counts there,-the deuce  This is most terrible work;-judge if I
a baron in all Avignon;-so that there is don't manage my plains better.
scarce any talking to them on a windy day.
Prithee, friend, said I, take hold of my
mule for a moment; —for I wanted to pull
off one of my jack-boots, which hurt my
heel:-the man was standing quite idle at           CHAP. XLIII.
the door of the inn: and as I had taken it
into my head he was someway concerned    I HAD not gone above two leagues and a
about the house or stable, I put the bridle half, before the man with his gun began tc
into his hand,-so begun with my boot.- look at his priming.
When I had finished the affair, I turned  I had three several times loiter'd terribly
hbout to take the mule from the man, and behind; half a mile at least every time
ilank him,-                            once in deep conference with a drum-maker,
lBut ilonsietr 1b Marquis had walked in. who was making drums for the fairs of Bau




OF TRISTRAM SHANDY.


225


caria and Tarascone:-I did not understand
the principles.The second time, I cannot so properly
say I stopp'd,-for meeting a couple of Fradciscans straitened more for time than myself,
and not being able to get to the bottom of
what I was about,-I had turned back with
them.The third was an affair of trade with a
gossip, for a hand-basket of Provence figs
for four sous: this would have been transacted at once, but for a case of conscience
at the close of it; for when the figs were
paid for, it turn'd out, that there were two
dozen of eggs covered over with vine-leaves
at the bottom of the basket:-as I had no
intention of buying eggs,-I made no sort
of claim of them: —as for the space they
had occupied, what signified its I had figs
enow for my money.But it was my intention to have the
basket;-it was the gossip's intention to
keep it, without which she could do nothing
with her eggs;-and unless I had the basket,
[ could do as little with my figs, which
were too ripe already, and some of'em
burst at the side: this brought on a short
contention, which terminated in sundry
proposals what we should both do.How we disposed of our eggs and figs,
I defy you or the Devil himself, had he not
been there (which I am persuaded he was)
to form the least probable conjecture. —
You will read the whole of it,-not this
year, for I am hastening to the story of my
uncle Toby's amours;-but you will read it
in the collection of those which have arose
out of the journey across this plain;-and
which, therefore, I call my
PLAIN STORIES.


beggars, pilgrims, fiddlers, friars,-not passing by a woman in a mulberry-tree without
commending her legs, and tempting her
into conversation with a pinch of snuff:in short, by seizing every handle, of what
size or shape soever, which chance held out
to me. in this journey,-I turned my plain
into a city.-l —was always in company, ana
with great variety too; and as my mule
loved society as much as myself, and had
some proposals always on his part to offer to
every beast he met,-I am confident we
could have passed through Pall-mall or St.
James's Street, for a month together, with
fewer adventures,-and seen less of human
nature.
O! there is that sprightly frankness,
which at once unpins every plait of a Languedocian's dress,-that whatever is beneath it, it looks so like the simplicity
which poets sung of in better days! I wili
delude my fancy, and believe it is so.'Twas in the road betwixt Nismes, and
tLunel, where there is the best Muscatt'
wine in all France, and which, by the bye,
belongs to the honest canons of Montpellier:
-and foul befall the man who has drunk it
at their table, who grudges them a drop of it.
The sun was set;-they had done their
work; the nymphs had tied up their hair
afresh,-and the swains were preparing for
a carousal;-my mule made a dead point.
-'Tis the fife and tabourine, said I.-I'm
frighten'd to death, quoth he. —They are
running at the ring of pleasure, said I,
giving him a prick.-By Saint Boogar, and
all the saints at the backside of the door of
purgatory, said he, -(making the same
resolution with the Abbess of Andouillet's)
I'll not go a step further.-'Tis very well,
Sir, said I.-I never will argue a point with
one of your family as long as I live; so
leaping off his back, and kicking off one
boot into this ditch, and t'other into that,I'll take a dance, said I;-so stay you here
A sun-burnt daughter of Labor rose up
from the group to meet me, as I advanced
towards them; her hair, which was a dark
chestnut, approaching rather to a black, was
tied up in a knot, all but a single tress.We want a cavalier, said she, holding
out both her hands, as if to offer them.

How far my pen has been fatigued, like
those of other travellers, in this journey of
it, over so barren a track,-the world must
judge; but the traces of it, which are now
all set o'vibrating together this moment,
tell me'tis the most fruitful and busy period
of my life; for as I had made no convention
with my man with the gun, as to time,by stopping and talking to every soul I met,
who was not in a full trot,-joining all
parties before me,-waiting for every soul
behind,-hailing all those who were coming
through cross-roads, arresting all kinds of
2D


And a cavalier you shall have, said I, taking
hold of both of Ihem.




226                     LIFE AND OPINIONS, &c.
1iadst thou, Nannette, been array'd like The nymphs join'd in unison, and their
a Duchesse!.swains an octave below them.

I


But that cursed slit in thy petticoat!
Nannette cared not for it.We could not have done without you,
said she, letting go one hand, with selftaught politeness, and leading me up with
the other.A lame youth, whom Apollo had recompensed with a pipe, and to which he had
added a tabourine of his own accord, ran
sweetly over the prelude, as he sat upon
the bank.-Tie me up this tress instantly,
said Nannette, putting a piece of string
into my hand.-It taught me to forget I
was a stranger.-The whole knot fell down.
-We had been seven years acquainted.
The youth struck the note upon the tabourine, his pipe followed, and off we bounded,-" the deuce take that slit!"
The sister of the youth, who had stolen
her voice from Heaven, sung alternately
with her brother;-'twas a Gascoigne roundelay.


I would have given a crown to have had it
sew'd up.-Nannette would not have given
a Sous,- Viva la joia was in her lips:Viva la joia was in her eyes.-A transient
spark of amity shot across the space betwixt
us.-She look'd amiable!-Why could I not
live, and end my days thus!? Just Disposer
of our joys and sorrows, cried I, why could
not a man sit down in the lap of content
here,-and dance and sing, and say his
prayers, and go to Heaven with this nutbrown maid  Capriciously did she bend her
head on one side, and dance up insidious.Then'tis time to dance off, quoth I; so
changing only partners and tunes, I danced
it away from Lunel to Montpellier;-finom
thence to Pescnas, Beziers.-I danced it
along through Narbonne, Carcasson, and
Castle Naudairy, till at last I danced myself into Pedrillo's pavilion; where, pulling out a paper of black lines, that I'might
go on straight-forwards, without digression
or parenthesis, in my uncle Toby's amours.
I began thus:

VIVA LA JOIA t
FIDON LA TRISTESSA!




THE
LIFE AND OPINIONS
OF
GENTLEMAN.


f/TAP. I.
— BUT roft!y,- for in these sportive
plains, and under this genial sun, where at
this instant all flesh is running out piping,
fiddling, and dancing to the vintage, and
every step that's taken, the judgment is
surprised by the imagination, I defy, notwithstanding all that has been said upon
straight lines,* in sundry pages of my book,
-I defy the best cabbage-planter that ever
existed, whether he plants backwards or
fb.rwards, it makes little difference in the
account (except that he will have more to
answer for in the one case than in the other)
-I defy him to go on coolly, critically, and
canonically, planting his cabbages one by
one, in straight lines, and stoical distances,
especially if slits in petticoats are unsew'd
up,-without ever and anon straddling out,
or sliding into some bastardly digression.In Freeze-land, Fog-land, and some other
lands I wot of,-it may be done!But in this clear climate of fantasy and
perspiration, where every idea, sensible and
insensible, gets vent,-in this land, my dear
Eugenius,-in this fertile land of chivalry
and romance, where I now sit, unscrewing
my inkliorn to write my uncle Toby's
amours, and with all the meanders of Julia's track in quest of her Diego, in full
view of my study-window,-if thou comest
not and takest me by the hand,What a work it is likely to turn out!
Liet us begin it.


I


CHAP. II.


IT is with Love as with Cucko'dom.but now I am talking of beginning a book,
and have long had a thing upon my mind to
be imparted to the reader, which, if not imparted now, can never be imparted to him
as long as I live (whereas the comparison
may be imparted to him any hour in the
day)-I'll just mention it, and begin in good
earnest.
The thing is this:That of all the several ways of beginning
a book which are now in practice throughout the known world, I am confident my
own way of doing it is the best.-I'm sure
it is the most religious,-for I begin with
writing the first sentence,-and trusting to
Almighty God for the second.'Twould cure an author for ever of the
fuss and folly of opening the street-door, and
calling in his neighbors, and friends, and
kinsfolk, with the Devil and all his imps.
with their hammers, and engines, &c. only
to observe how one sentence of mine follows
another, and how the plan follows the whole.
I wish you saw me half starting out of my
chair, with what confidence, as I grasp the
elbow of it, I look up,-catching the idea
even sometimes before it half-way reaches
me!
-I believe, in my conscience, I intercept
many a thought which Heaven intended fox
another man.
Pope and his portrait are fools to me: —
no martyr is ever so full of faith or fire.- 1
wish I could say of good works too; —bui I
have no


* Vide page 199.




228


LIFE AND OPINIONS


Zeal or Anger,-or
Anger or Zeal;and, till gods and men agree together to call
it by the same name,-the arrantest Tartuffe in science, in politics, or in religion,
shall never kindle a spark within me, -or
have a worse word, or a more unkind greeting,' than what he will read in the next
chapter.
CHAP. III.
-Bon jour! - good-morrow!    so you
have got your cloak on betimes!-but'tis a
cold morning, and you judg  the matter
rightly;-'tis better to be well mounted
than go o'foot;-and obstructions in the
glands are dangerous.-And how goes it
with thy concubine, —thy wife,-and thy
little ones o' both sides! and when did you
hear from the old gentleman and lady,your sister, aunt, uncle, and cousins?-I
hope they have got the better of their colds,
coughs, claps, tooth-aches, fevers, stranguaries, sciaticas, swellings, and sore eyes.
-What a devil of an apothecary! to take
so much blood,-give such a vile purge,puke, - poultice,-plaster,-night-draught,
— clyster,-blister!-And why so many
grains of calomel? Santa Maria! and such
a dose of opium! periclitating, pardi! the
whole family of ye, from head to tail!-By
my great-aunt Dinah's old black velvet mask!
I think there was no occasion for it.
Now this being a little bald about the
chin, by frequently putting off and on, before she was got with child by the coachman,-not one of our family would wear it
after. To cover the mask afresh, was more
than the mask was worth;-and to wear a
mask which was bald, or which could be
half seen through, was as bad as having no
mask at all.
-This is the reason. may it please your
Reverences, that in all our numerous family, for these four generations, we count no
more than one Archbishop, a Welsh Judge,
some three or four Aldermen, and a single
Mountebank.
In the sixteenth century, we boast of no
less than a dozen alchymists.


CHAP. IV.
"IT is with Love as with Cuckoldom;"the suffering party is at least the third, but,
generally, the last in the house who knows
any thing about the matter: this comes, as
all the world knows, from having half a dozen
words for one thing; and so long as what
in this vessel of the human frame is Love,
-may be Hatred in that,-Sentiment half a
yard higher,-and Nonsense,-No, Madam,
-not there; I mean at the part I am now
pointing to with my fore-finger,-how car
we help ourselves?
Of all mortal, and immortal men too, if
you please, who ever soliloquized upon this
mystic subject, my uncle Toby was the
worst fitted to have push'd his researches
through such a contention of feelings; Iand
he had infallibly let them all run on, as we
do worse matters, to see what they would
turn out,-had not Bridget's pre-notification
of them to Susannah, and Susannah's re
peated manifestoes thereupon to all the
world, made it necessary for my uncle Toby
to look into the affair.
CHAP. V.
WHY weavers, gardeners, and gladiators,
-or a man with a pined leg (proceeding
from  some ailment in the foot)-should
ever have had some tender nymph breaking
her heart in secret for them, are points well
and duly settled and accounted for, by ancient and modern physiologists.
A water-drinker, provided he is a professed one, and does it without fraud or covin,
is precisely in the same predicament: not
that, at first sight, there is any consequence,
or show of logic in it, " That a rill of cold
"water dribbling through my inward parts,
"should light up a torch in my Jenny's-"
-The proposition does not strike one; on
the contrary, it seems to run opposite to the
natural workings of causes and effects:But it shows the weakness and imbecility
of human reason.
-" And in perfect good health with it!"
-The most perfect, Madam, that Friendship herself could wish me.




Cf)' T7ISTRAM SHANDY.


229


- "And drink nothing! - nothing but fibres, and bring them sooner into contact,
water?"                                -my uncle Toby drank it for quietness'
— Impetuous fluid! the moment thou sake.
pressest against the flood-gates of the  Now, as all the world knows that no efbrain,-see how they give way!          fect in nature can be produced without a
-In swims Curiosity, beckoning to her cause, and as it is as well known that my
damsels to follow;-they dive into the cen- uncle Toby wasneither a weaver, agardener,
tre of the current.                    nor a gladiator,-unless, as a captain, you
Fancy sits musing upon the bank, and, will needs have him one,-but then he was
with her eyes following the stream, turns only a captain of foot,-and, besides, the
straws and bulrushes into masts and bow- whole is an equivocation.-There is nosprits.-And Desire, with vest held up to thing left for us to suppose, but that itmy
the knee in one hand, snatches at them, as uncle Toby's leg,-but that will avail us
they swim by her, with the other.     little in the present hypothesis, unless it
O ye water-drinkers! is it then by this had proceeded from some ailment in the
delusive fountain, that ye have so often foot,-whereas his leg was not emaciated
governed and turn'd this world about like from any disorder in his foot,-for my uncle
a mill-wheel,-grinding the faces of the Toby's leg was not emaciated at all. It was
impotent, bepowdering their ribs,-bepep- a little stiff and awkward, from a total dispering their noses, and changing sometimes use of it for the three years he lay confined
even the very frame and face of nature!  at my father's house in town; but it was
-If I was you, quoth Yorick, I would plump and muscular, and, in all other redrink more water, Eugenius.-And,-if I was spects, as good and promising a leg as the
you, Yorick, replied Eugenius, so would I. other.
Which shows they had both read Longi-  I declare, I do not recollect iny one opinnus.                                  ion or passage of my life, where my underFor my own part, I am resolved never to standing was more at a loss to make ends
read any book but my own as long as I meet, and torture the chapter I had been
live.                                  writing, to the service of the chapter following it, than in the present case: one would
think I took a pleasure in running into diffiCHAP. VI.                culties of this kind, merely to make fresh
experiments of getting out of'em.-InconI wISH my uncle Toby had been a water- sidorate soul that thou art! What! are not
drinker, for then the thing had been account- the unavoidable distresses with which, as
ed for, That the first moment Widow Wad- an author and a man, thou art hemmn'd in
man saw him, she felt something stirring on every side of thee;-are they, Tristram,
within her in his favor; -something!-  not sufficient, but thou must entangle thysomething.                             self still more?
-Something, perhaps, more than friend-  Is it not enough that thou art in debt,
ship,-less than love:- something, -no and that thou hast ten cart-loads of thy fifth
matter what,-no matter where;-I would and sixth volumes* still,-still unsold, and
not give a single hair of my mule's tail, and art almost at thy wit's ends how to get them
be obliged to pluck it off myself (indeed, the off thy hands?
villain has not many to spare, and is not a  To this hour art thou not tormented with
little vicious into- the bargain) to be let by the vile asthma that thou gattest in skating
your Worships into the secret.         against the wind in Flanders? and it is but
But the truth is, my uncle Toby. was not two months ago that, in a fit of laughter, on
a water-drinker; he drank it neither pure seeing a cardinal make water like a quiris.
nor mix'd, nor anyhow, nor anywhere, ex- ter (with both hands) thou brakest a vessel
cept fortuitously upon some advanced posts, in thy lungs, whereby, in two hours, thou
where better lionor was not to be had,-or lost as many quarts of blood; and, hadst the,
during the time he was under cure; when,                 -
the surgeon telling him it would extend the     * Alluding to the first edition.;J.}




230                       LIFE AND OPINIONS
lost as much more, did not the faculty tell more- lights than one;-but here, for hei
thee,-it would have amounted to a gal- soul, she can see him in no light without
lon 1-                                mixing something of her own goods and
chattels along with him,-till, by reiterated
acts of such combinations, he gets foisted
CHAP. VII.               into her inventory,
And then, good night.




-BUT, for Heaven's sake, let us not talk
of quarts or gallons, let us take the story
straight before us; it is so nice and intricate
a one, it will scarce bear the transposition
of a single tittle; and somehow or other, you
have got me thrust almost into the middle'
of it.
I beg we may take more care.
CHAP. VIII.
MY uncle Toby and the Corporal had posted down with so much heat and precipitation, to take possession of the spot of ground
we have so often spoke of, in order to open
their campaign as early as the rest of the
allies; that they had forgot one of the most
necessary articles of the whole affair; it
was neither a pioneer's spade, a pick-ax,
or a shovel;It was a bed to lie on: so that as Shandyhall was at that time unfurnished; and the
little inn where poor Le Fevre died, not yet
built,-my uncle Toby was constrained to
accept of a bed at Mrs. Wadman's, for a
night or two, till Corporal Trim (who, to
the character of an excellent valet, groom,
cook, sempster, surgeon, and engineer, superadded that of an excellent upholsterer
too) with the help of a carpenter and a
couple of tailors, constructed one in my
uncle Tobv's house.
A daughter of Eve, for such was Widow
WVadman, and it's all the character I intend
to give of her,!- "That she was a perfect woman,-"
had better be fifty leagues off,-or in her
warm bed, or playing with a case-knife,-')r any thing you please,-than make a man
the object of her attention, when the house
and all the furniture is her own.
There is nothing in it out of doors and in
Lroad daylight, where a woman has a powt*r, physicaily speaking, of viewing a man in


But this is not matter of System; for 1
have delivered that above:-inor is it matter
of Breviary;-for I make no man's creed
but my own:-nor matter of Fact,-at least
that I know of: but'tis matter copulative
and introductory to what follows.




CHAP. IX.
I DO not speak it with regard to th(
coarseness or cleanness of them,-or ther
strength of their gussets;- but pray, Do
not night-shifts differ from day-shifts as
much in this particular, as in any thing else
in the world, That they so far exceed the
others in length, that, when you are laid
down in them, they fall almost as much
below the feet as the day-shifts fall short of
them 3
Widow Wadman's night-shifts (as was
the mode, I suppose, in King William's and
Queen Anne's reigns) were cut, however,
after this fashion; and, if the fashion is
changed (for in Italy they are come to nothing)-so much the worse for the public;
they were two Flemish ells and a half in
length; so that, allowing a moderate woman two ells, she had half an ell to spare.
to do what she would with.
Now, from one little indulgence gained
after another, in the many bleak and Decemberly nights of a seven years' widowhood, things had insensibly come to this
pass, and, for the two last years, had got establish'd into one of the ordinances of the
bed-chamber,-That as soon as Mrs. Wadman was put to bed, and had got her legs
stretched down to the bottom of it, of which
she always gave Bridget notice,-Bridget
with all suitable decorum, having first open'd
the bed-clothes at the feet, took hold of the
half-ell of cloth we are speaking of, and
having gently, and with both her hands,
drawn it down wards to its furthest extension, and then contracted it again sidelong




OF TRISTRAM SHANDY.


231




bv four or five even plaits, she took a large
corking-pin out of her sleeve, and, with the
point directed towards her, pinn'd the plaits
all fast together, a little above the hem;
which done, she tuck'd all in tight at the
feet, and wish'd her mistress a good-night.
This was constant, and without any other
variation than this; that, on shivering and
tempestuous nights, when Bridget untuck'd
the feet of the bed, &c. to do this, she consulted no thermometer but that of her own
passions; and so performed it standing,kneeling,-or squatting, according to the
different degrees of faith, hope, and charity,
she was in, and bore towards her mistress
that night. In every other respect, the
etiquette was sacred, and might have vied
with the most mechanical one of the most
inflexible bed-chamber in Christendom.
The first night, as soon as the Corporal
had conducted my uncle Toby up stairs,
which was about ten,-Mrs. Wadman threw
herself into her arm-chair, and crossing her
left knee with her right, which formed a
resting-place for her elbow, she reclin'd her
cheek upon the palm of her hand, and,
leaning forwards, ruminated till midnight
upon both sides of the question.
The second night she went to her bureau,
and, having ordered Bridget to bring her
up a couple of fresh candles and leave them
upon the table, she took out her marriagesettlement, and read it over with great devotion: and the third night (which was the
last of my uncle Toby's stay) when Bridget
had pull'd down the night-shift, and was
essaying to stick in the corking-pin,-With a kick of both heels at once, but
at the same time the most natural kick that
could be kick'd in her situation;-for supposing ** **** *.* to be the sun in its
meridian, it was a north-east kick; she
kick'd the pin out of her fingers,-the etiquette which hung upon it, down,-down
it fell to the ground, and was shiver'd into
a thousand atoms.
From all which, it was plain that Widow
Wadman was in love with my uncle Toby.
CHAP. X.
MY uncle Toby's head at that time was
full of other matters, so that it was not till


the demolition of Dunkirk, when all tne
other civilities of Europe were settled, that
he found leisure to return this.
This made an armistice (that is, speaking
with regard to my uncle Toby,-but, with
respect to Mrs. Wadman, a vacancy)-of
almost eleven years. But in all cases of
this nature, as it is the second blow, happen
at what distance of time it will, which
makes the fray,-I choose, for that reason,
to call these the amours of my uncle Toby
with Mrs. Wadman, rather than the amours
of Mrs. Wadman with my uncle Toby.
This is not a distinction without a difference.
It is not like the affair of an old hat cock'd,
-and a cock'd old hat, about which your
Reverences have so often been at odds with
one another;-but there is a difference here
in the nature of things;And, let me tell you gentry, a wide one
too.
CHAP. XI.
Now, as Widow Wadman did love my
uncle Toby,-and my uncle Toby did not
love Widow Wadman, there was nothing
for Widow Wadman to do, but to go on
and love my uncle Toby,-or let it alone.
Widow Wadman would do neither the
one nor the other.
-Gracious Heaven!-but I forget I am
a little of her temper myself: for whenever
it so falls out, which it sometimes does,
about the equinoxes, that an earthly goddess
is so much this, and that, and t'other, that
I cannot eat my breakfast for her,-and that
she careth not three half-pence whether I
eat my breakfast or not,-Curse on her! and so I send her to
Tartary, and from Tartary to Terra del
Fuego, and so on to the Devil. In short,
there is not an infernal niche where I do
not take her divinityship and stick it.
But as the heart is tender, and the passions in these tides ebb and flow ten times
in a minute, I instantly bring her back
again; and, as I do all things in extremes,
I place her in the very centre of the milky
way,-Brightest of stars! thou wilt shed
thy influence upon some one.




232


LIFE AND OPINIONS


-The deuce take her and her influence'too:-for, at that word, I lose all patience:
-much good'may it do him!-By all that
is hirsute and gashly! I cry, taking off my
furr'd cap, and twisting it round my finger,
-I would not give sixpence for a dozen
such!
-But'tis an excellent cap too (putting
it upon my head, and pressing it close to
tiyu ears)-and warm,-and soft, especially
ii' you stroke it the right way:-but, alas!
tiatl will never be my luck:-(so here my
philosophy is shipwreck'd again.)
-No; I shall never have a finger in the
pye (so here I break my metaphor.)
Crust and crumb,
Inside and out,
Top and bottom;-I detest it, I hate it,
I repudiate it;-I am sick at the sight of
it: —'Tis all pepper,
garlic,
staragen,
salt, and
Devil's dung.-By the great archcook of cooks, who does nothing, I think,
from morning to night, but sit down by the
fire-side and invent inflammatory dishes for
us, I would not touch it for the world.
-O  Tristram! Tristram! cried Jenny.
O Jenny! Jenny! replied I, and so went
on with the twelfth chapter
CHAP. XII.
-"NOT touch it for the world," did I say 
Lord, how I have heated my imagination
Tth this metaphor!
CHAP. XIII.
WHICH shows, let your Reverences and
Worships say what you will of it (for, as
for thinking,  all who do think, -think
pretty much alike both upon it and other
natters)-Love is certainly, at least alpha-;etically speaking, one of the most
A gitating,
B ewitching,
C onfounded,


D evilish affairs of life; — the most
E xtravagant,
F utilitous,
G aligaskinish,
H andy-dandyish,
I racundulous (there is no K to it) and
L yrical of all human passions: at the
same time, the most
M isgiving,
N innyhammering,
O bstipating,
P ragmatical,
S tridulous,
R idiculous,- though, by the bye, the
R should have gone first:-but, in short,'tis
of such a nature, as my father once told my
uncle Toby, upon the close of a long dissertation upon the subject:-" You can scarce,"
said he, " combine two ideas together upon
"it, brother Toby, without an hypallage;"
-What's that cried my uncle Toby.
The cart before the horse, replied my
father.
-And what is he to do there. cried my
uncle Toby.
-Nothing, quoth my father, but to get
in,-or let it alone.
Now Widow Wadman, as I told you before, woulddo neither the one nor the other.
She stood, however, ready harnessed and
caparisoned at all points, to watch accidents.
CHAP. XIV.
THE Fates, who certainly all foreknow
of these amours of Widow Wadman and
my uncle Toby, had, from the first creation
of matter and motion (and with more courtesy than they usually do things of this
kind) established such a chain of causes
and effects hanging so fast to one another,
that it was scarce possible for my uncle
Toby to have dwelt in any other house in
the world, or to have occupied any other
garden in Christendom but the very house
and garden which join'd and lay parallel to
Mrs. Wadman's: this, with the advantage
of a thickset arbor in Mrs. Wadman's garden, but planted in the hedge-row of my
uncle Toby's, put all the occasions into her
hands which love-militancy wanted' she




OF TRISTRAM SHANDY.                            233
could observe my uncle Toby's motions,            CHAP. XVI.
and was mistress likewise of his councils
of war; and as his unsuspecting heart had  -AND so, to make sure of both systems,
given leave to the Corporal, through the Mrs. Wadman predetermined to light my
mediation of Bridget, to make her a wicker- uncle Toby neither at this end nor that;
gate of communication to enlarge her but, like a prodigal's candle, to light him,
walks, it enabled her to carry on her ap- if possible, at both ends at once.
proaches to the very door of the sentry-  Now, through all the lumber-rooms of
box; and sometimes, out of gratitude, to military furniture, including both of horse
make an attack, and endeavor to blow my and foot, from the great arsenal of Venice
uncle Toby up in the very sentry-box itself: to the Tower of London (exclusive) if Mrs.
Wadman had been rummaging for seven
years together, and with Bridget to help
her, she could not have found any one blind
CHAP. XV.                or mantelet so fit for her purpose as that.
which the expediency of my uncle Toby's
IT is a great pity;-but'tis certain, from affairs had fix'd up ready to her hands.
every day's observation of man, that he  I believe I have told you,-but I don't
may be set on fire, like a candle, at either know,-possibly I have;-be it as it will,
end,-provided there is a sufficient wick'tis one of the number of those many things
standing out; if there is not-there's an which a man had better do over again than
end of the affair; and if there is,-by light- dispute about it,-That whatever town or
ing it at the bottom, as the flame in that fortress the Corporal was at work upon,
case has the misfortune generally to put during the course of their campaign, my
out itself,-there's an end of the affair uncle Toby always took care, on the inside
again.                                of his sentry-box, which was towards his
For my part, could I always have the or- left hand, to have a plan of the place. fastdering of it which way I would be burnt en'd up with two or three pins at the top,
myself,-for I cannot bear the thoughts of but loose at the bottom, for the conveniency
being burnt like a beast,-I would oblige a of holding it up to the eye, &c.... as ochousewife constantly to light me at the top; casions required; so that when an attack
for then I should burn down decently to the was resolved upon, Mrs. Wadman had nosocket; that is from my head to my heart, thing more to do, when she had got adfrom my heart to my liver, from my liver vanced to the door of the sentry-box, but to
to my bowels, and so on by the mesenteric extend her right hand; and edging in her
veins and arteries, through all the turns left foot at the same movement, to take
and lateral insertions of the intestines and hold of the map or plan, or upright, or
their tunicles to the blind gut.-     whatever it was, and with out-stretched
I beseech you, Doctor Slop, quoth my neck meeting it half-way,-to advance it
uncle Toby, interrupting him as he men- towards her; on which my uncle Toby's
tioned the blind gut, in a discourse with passions were sure to catch fire,-for he
my father the night my mother was brought would instantly take hold of the other corto bed of me,-I beseech you, quoth my ner of the map in his left hand, and with
uncle Toby, to tell me which is the blind the end of his pipe in the other, begin an
gut; for, old as I am, I vow I do not know explanation.
to this day where it lies.              When the attack was advanced to this
-The blind gut, answered Doctor Slop, point,-the world will naturally enter intn,
lies betwixt the Ilion and Colon.     the reasons of Mrs. Wadman's next stroke
-In man   said my father.           of generalship;-which was, to take my
-'Tis precisely the same, cried Doctor uncle Toby's tobacco-pipe out of his hand
Slop, in a woman.                     as soon as she possibly could: which. under
-That's more than I know, quoth my one pretence or other, but generally that
father.                               of pointing more distinctly at some redoubt
2E                                   2C




234


LIFE AND OPINIONS


or breastwork in the map, she would effect
before my uncle Toby (poor soul!) had well
march'd above half a dozen toises with it.
-It obliged my uncle Toby to make use
of his fore-finger.
The difference it made in the attack was
this:-That in going upon it, as in the first
case, with the end of her fore-finger against
the end of my uncle Toby's tobacco-pipe,
she might have travelled with it along the
lines, from Dan to Beersheba, had my uncle Toby's lines reached so far, without any
effect: for as there was no arterial or vital
heat in the end of the tobacco-pipe, it could
excite no sentiment,-it could neither give
fire by pulsation,-nor receive it by sympathy;-'twas nothing but smoke.
Whereas, in following my uncle Toby's
fore-finger with hers, close through all the
little turns and indentings of his works,pressing sometimes against the side of it,then treading upon its nail,-then tripping
it up,-then touching it here,-then there,
and so on,-it set something at least in motion.
This, though slight skirmishing, and at
a distance from the main body, yet drew on
the rest; for here, the map usually falling
with the back of it close to the side of the
sentry-box, my uncle Toby, in the simplicity of his soul, would lay his hand flat upon
it, in order to go on with his explanation;
and Mrs. Wadman, by a maneuvre as quick
as thought, would as certainly place hers
close beside it. This at once opened a communication, large enough for any sentim ant
to pass or repass, which a person skill'd in
the elementary and practical part of lovemaking has occasion for.By bringing up her fore-finger parallel
(as before) to my uncle Toby's-it unavoidably brought the thumb into action; and
the fore-finger and thumb being once engaged, as naturally brought in the whole
hand. Thine, dear uncle Toby! was never
now in its right place,-Mrs. Wadman had
it ever to take up, or, with the gentlest
pushings, protrusions, and equivocal compressions, that a hand to be removed is capable of receiving, to get it press'd a hairbreadth of one side out of her way.
Whilst this was doing, how could she
warget to make him sensible that it wa s her


leg (and no one's else) at the bottom of the
sentry-box, which slightly press'd against
the calf of his!-So that my uncle Toby
being thus attack'd, and sore push'd on both
his wings,-was it a wonder, if now and
then, it put his centre into disorder?
-The deuce take it! said my uncle
Toby.
CHAP. XVII.
THESE attacks of Mrs. Wadman, you will
readily conceive to be of different kinds;
varying from each other like the attacks
which history is full of, and from the same
reasons. A general looker-on would scarce
allow them to be attacks at all;-or if he
did, would confound them all together;but I write not to them. It will be time
enough to be a little more exact in my descriptions of them as I come up to them,
which will not be for some chapters; having nothing more to add in this, but that in
a bundle of original papers and drawings,
which my father took care to roll up by
themselves, there is a plan of Bouchain in
perfect preservation (and shall be kept sowhilst I have power to preserve any thing;)
upon the lower corner of which, on the right
hand side, there are still remaining the
marks of a snuffy finger and thumb; which,
there is all the reason in the world to imagine, were Mrs. Wadman's; for the opposite side of the margin, which I suppose to
have been my uncle Toby's, is absolutely
clean. This seems an authenticated record
of one of these attacks; for there are vestigia of the two punctures partly grown
up, but still visible on the opposite corner
of the map, which are unquestionably the
very holes through which it has been pricked
up in the sentry-box.By all that is priestly! I value this precious relic, with its stigmata and pricks,
more than all the relics of the Romish
church; — always excepting when I am
writing upon these matters, the pricks which
entered the flesh of St. Radagunda in the
desert; which, in your road from Fesse to
Cluny, the nuns of that name will sho\
you for love.




01 TRISTRAM SHANDY.                            235
CHAP. XVIII.              the Mole, as Servius Sulpicius, in returning out of Asia (when he sailed from AEgina
I THINK, an' please your Honor, quoth towards Megara) did upon Corinth and PyITriln, the fortifications are quite destroyed; rmeus,-and the bason is upon a level with the  "It was a thousand pities, an' please your
mole.-I think so too,-replied my uncle Honor, to destroy these works, - and a
Toby, with a sigh half suppress'd;-but thousand pities to have let them stand."
step into the parlor, Trim, for the stipula-  -Thou art right, Trim, in both cases,
tion;-it lies upon the table.         said my uncle Toby.-This, continued the
-It has lain there these six weeks, re- Corporal, is the reason, that from the beplied the Corporal; till this very morning ginning of their demolition to the end,-I
that the old woman kindled the fire with it. have never once whistled, orsung, orlaugh'd,
-Then, said my uncle Toby, there is no or cry'd, or talk'd of past-done deeds, or told
further occasion for our services. —The your Honor one story, good or bad.
more, an' please your Honor, the pity, said  -Thou hast many excellencies, Trim,
the Corporal; in uttering which, he cast said my uncle Toby; and I hold it not the
his spade into the wheel-barrow, which was least of them, as thou happenest to be a
beside him, with an air the most expressive story-teller, that of the number thou hast
of disconsolation that can be imagined, and told me, either to amuse me in my painful
was heavily turning about to look for his hours, or divert me in my grave ones,pick-ax, his pioneer's shovel, his piquets, thou hast seldom told me a bad one.
and other little military stores, in order to  -Because, an' please your Honor, excarry them off the field,-when an heigh-ho! cept one of a King of Bohemia and his
from the sentry-box, which being made of seven castles,-they are all true; for they
thin slit deal, reverberated the sound more are about myself.
sorrowfully to his ear, forbade him.    -I do not like the subject the worse,
-No, said the Corporal to himself, I'll Trim, said my uncle Toby, on that score.
Jo it before his Honor rises to-morrow morn- But, prithee, what is this story. Thou hast'ng; so taking his spade out of the wheel- excited my curiosity.
barrow again, with a little earth in it, as if  -I'll tell it your Honor, quoth the Corto level something at the foot of the glacis, poral, directly.-Provided, said my uncle
-but with a real intent to approach nearer Toby, looking earnestly towards Dunkirk
to his master, in order to divert him,-he and the Mole again,-provided it is not a
loosen'd a sod or two,-pared their edges merry one: to such, Trim, a man should
with his spade, and having given them a ever bring one half of the entertainment
gentle blow or two with the back of it, he along with him; and the disposition I am
sat himself down close by my uncle Toby's in at present,- would wrong both thee,
feet, and began as follows:-          Trim, and thy story.-It is not a merry one,
by any means, replied the Corporal.-Nor
would I have it altogether a grave one,
- CHAP. XIVX.             added my uncle Toby.-It is neither the
one nor the other, replied the Corporal; but
IT was a thousand pities;-though I be- will suit your Honor exactly.-Then I'll
dieve, an' please your Honor, I am going to thank thee for it with all my heart, cried
say but a foolish kind of a thing for a sol- my uncle Toby; so prithee begin it, Trim.
dier,-                                  The Corporal made his reverence; and
A soldier, cried my uncle Toby, inter- though it is not so easy a matter as the
rupting the Corporal, is no more exempt world imagines, to pull off a lank Monterofrom saying a foolish thing, Trim, than a cap with grace, —or a whit less difficult, in
man of letters,-But not so often, an' please my conceptions, when a man is sitting squal
your Honor, replied the Corporal.-My upon the ground, to make a bow so teeming
uncle Toby gave a nod.                with respect as the Corporal was wont
-It was a thousand pities, then, said the yet, by suffering the palm of his right hanl,
Corporal, casting his eye upon Dunkirk and which was towards his master, to slip back




236


LIFE AND OPINIONS


wards upon the grass, a little beyond his
body, in order to allow it the greater sweep,
-and by an unforced compression, at the
same time, of his cap with the thumb and
the two fore-fingers of his left, by which
the diameter of the cap became reduced;;o that it might be said rather to be insensibly squeez'd,-than pull'd off with a flatus,
-the Corporal acquitted himself of both in
a better manner than the posture of his affairs promised; and having hemmed twice,
to find in what key his story would best go,
and best suit his master's humor,-he exchanged a single look of kindness with him,
and set off thus:THE STORY OF THE KING OF BOHEMIA AND
HIS SEVEN CASTLES.
There was a certain King of Bo-heAs the Corporal was entering the confines
of Bohemia, my uncle Toby obliged him to
halt for a single moment. He. had set out
bare-headed; having, since he pull'd off his
Montero-cap in the latter end of the last
chapter, left it lying beside him on the
ground.
-The eye of Goodness espieth all things;
so that before the Corporal had well got
through the first five words of his story, had
my uncle Toby twice touch'd his Monterocap with the end of his cane, interrogatively:-as much as to say, Why don't you
put it on, Trim — Trim took it up with the


was in the right, and that it would be in
vain for the wit of man to think of extract
ing a purer moral from his cap, withou
further attempting it, he put it on; and
passing his hand across his forehead to rub
out a pensive wrinkle, which the text and
doctrine between them had engender'd, he
return'd, with the same look and tone of
voice, to his story of the King of Bohemia
and his seven castles.
THE STORY OF THE KING OF BOHEMIA AND
HIS SEVEN CASTLES, CONTINUED.
There was a certain King of Bohemia;
but in whose reign, except his own, I am
not able to inform your Honor.I do not desire it of thee, Trim, by any
means, cried my uncle Toby.
-It was a little before the time, an'
please your Honor, when giants were beginning to leave off breeding:-but in what
year of our Lord that was,-I would not give a halfpenny to know,
said my uncle Toby.
-Only, an' please your Honor, it makes
a story look the better in the face.
-'Tis thy own, Trim, so ornament it
after thy own fashion; and take any date,
continued my uncle Toby, looking pleasantly upon him;-take any date in the
whole world thou choosest, and put it to,- -
thou art heartily welcome.The Corporal bowed; for of every cen


most respectful slowness, and casting a tury, and of every year of that century,
glance of humiliation, as he did it, upon the from the first creation of the world down to
embroidery of the fore-part, which being Noah's flood; and from Noah's flood to the
dismally tarnish'd and fray'd, moreover, in birth, of Abraham; through all the pilsome of the principal leaves and boldest grimages of the patriarchs, to the departure
parts of the pattern, he laid it down again ofthe Israelites out of Egypt;-and throughbetween his two feet, in order to moralize out all the Dynasties, Olympiads, Urbeconupon the subject.                     ditas, and other memorable epochas of the
-'Tis every word of it but too true, cried different nations of the world, down to the
my uncle Toby, that thou art about to ob- coming of Christ, and from thence to the
serve:-                                very moment in which the Corporal was
"Nothing in this world, Trim, is made telling his story,-had my uncle Toby sub"to lastfor ever."                    jected this vast empire of time, and all its
-But when tokens, dear Tom, of thy abysses, at his feet; but as Modesty scarce
ove and remembrance wear out, said Trim, touches with a finger what Liberality offers
what' shall we say 1                  her with both hands open,-the Corporal
-There is no occasion, Trim, quoth my contented himself with the very worst year
uncle Toby, to say any thing else; and was of the whole bunch; which, to prevent
a man to puzzle his brains till Doomsday, I your Honors of the Majority and Minority,hlieve, Trim, it would be impossible,  from tearing the very flesh off your bores
The Corporal perceiving my uncle Toby in contestation,' Whether that year is not




OF TRISTRAM SHANDY.


237


always the last-cast year of the last-cast
almanac' —I tell you plainly, it was; but
from a different reason than you wot of.
-It was the year next him;-which being the year of our Lord seventeen hundred and twelve, when the Duke of Ormond
was playing the Devil in Flanders,-the
Corporal took it, and set out with it afresh
on his expedition to Bohemia.
THE STORY OF THE KING OF BOHEMIA AND
HIS SEVEN CASTLES, CONTINUED.
In the year of our Lord one thousand
seven hundred and twelve, there was, an'
please your Honor,-To tell thee truly, Trim, quoth my
uncle Toby, any other date would have
pleased me much better, not only on account
of the sad stain upon our history that year,
in marching off our troops, and refusing to
cover the siege of Quesnoi, though Fagel
was carrying on the works with such incredible vigor,-but likewise on the score,
Trim, of thy own story; because if there
are,-and which, from what thou hast dropt,
I partly suspect to be the fact,-if there are
giants in it,-There is but one, an' please your Honor.
-'Tis as bad as twenty, replied my uncle Toby; thou should'st have carried him
back some seven or eight hundred years out
of harm's way, both of critics and other
people; and therefore, I would advise thee,
if ever thou tellest it again,-If I live, an' please your Honor, but
once to get through it, I will never tell it
again, quoth Trim, either to man, woman,
or child.-Poo-poo! said my uncle Toby;
-but wit} accents of such sweet encouragement did he utterit, that the Corporal
went on with his story with more alacrity
than ever.
THIE STORY OF THIE KING OF BOHEMIA AND
HIS SEVEN CASTLES, CONTINUED.
There was, an' please your Honor, said
the Corporal, raising his voice and rubbing
the palms of his two hands cheerly together
as he began, a certain King of Bohemia,-Leave out the date entirely, Trim,
quoth my uncle Toby, leaning forwards,
and- laying his hand gently upon the Corporal's shoulder to temper the interruption,
-leave it out entirely, Trim; a story passes


very well without these niceties, unless
one is pretty sure of'em.-Sure of'em 
said the Corporal, shaking his head.
-Right, answered my uncle Toby; it is
not easy, Trim, for one, bred up as thou
and I have been to arms, who seldom looks
further forward than to the end of his musket, or backwards beyond his knapsack, to
know much about this matter.-God bless
your Honor! said the Corporal, won by the
manner of my uncle Toby's reasoning, as
much as by the reasoning itself, he has
something else to do; if not in action, or
on a march, or upon duty in his garrison,he has his firelock, an' please your Honor,
to furbish,-his accoutrements to take carG
of,-his regimentals to mend,-himself tt
shave and keep clean, so as to appear al
ways like what he is upon the parade
what business, added the Corporal triumph
antly, has a soldier, an' please your Honor
to know any thing at all of geography?
-Thou would'st have said chronology,
Trim, said my uncle Toby; for as for geography,'tis of absolute use to him; he
must be acquainted intimately with every
country and its boundaries where his profession carries him; he should know every
town and city, and village and hamlet, with
the canals, the roads, and hollow-ways,
which lead up to them. There is not a
river or a rivulet he passes, Trim, but he
should be able, at first sight, to tell thee
what is its name,-in what mountains i;
takes its rise,-what is its course,-how far
it is navigable,-where fordable,-where
not;-he should know the fertility of every
valley, as well as the hind who plows it;
and be able to describe, or, if it is required,
to give thee an exact map of all the plains
and defiles, the forts, the acclivities, the
woods and morasses, through and by which
his army is to march; he should know
their produce, their plants, their minerals,
their waters, their animals, their seasons,
their climates, their heats and colds, their
inhabitants, their customs, their language,
their policy, and even their religion.
Is it else to be conceived, Corporal, continued my uncle Toby, rising up in his sentry-box as he began to warm in this part of
his discourse, -how Marlborough could
have marched his army from the banks od
the Maes to Belburg;`room Belburg to Ker.




'238                       LIFE AND OPINIONS
penord-(here the Corporal could sit no both by Moors and Christians, not only in
]onger)-from Kerpenord, Trim, to Kalsa- their sea-combats, at that period, but in
ken; fiom  Kalsaken to Newdorf; from many of their most memorable sieges in
Newdorf to Landehbourg; from Landen- Spain and Barbary;-and all the world
bourg to Mildenheim; from Mildenheim to knows, that Friar Bacon had wrote exElchingen; from Elchingen to Gingen; pressly about it, and had generously given
from Gingen to Balmerchoffen; from Bal- the world a receipt to make it by, above a
merchoffen to Skellenburg, where he broke hundred and fifty years before even Schwartz
in upon the enemy's works, forced his pas- was born:-and that the Chinese, added my
sage over the Danube, crossed the Lech,-  uncle Toby, embarrass us, and all accounts
push'd on his troops into the heart of the of it, still more, by boasting of the invention
empire, marching at the head of them some hundreds of years even before him.through Fribourg, Hokenwert and Schone-  They are a pack of liars, I believe, cried
velt, to the plains of Blenheim and Hoch- Trim.stet?-Great as he was, Corporal, he could  They are somehow or other deceived,
not have advanced a step, or made one sin- said my uncle Toby, in this matter, as is
gle day's march, without the aids of Ge- plain to me fiom the present miserable state
ography.-As for Chronology, I own, Trim, of military architecture amongst them;
continued my uncle Toby, sitting down which consists of nothing more than a
again coolly in his sentry-box, that, of all fosse with a brick wall without flanks;others, it seems a science which the soldier and for what they give us as a bastion at
might best spare, was it not for the lights each angle of it,'tis so barbarously conwhich that science must one day give him, structed, that it looks for all the world,in determining the invention of powder; like one of my seven castles, an' please
the furious execution of which, renversing your Honor, quoth Trim.every thing, like thunder, before it, has be-  My uncle Toby, though in the utmost discome a new era to us of military improve- tress for a comparison, most courteously rements, changing so totally the nature of fused Trim's offer,-till Trim, telling him
attacks and defences, both by sea and land, he had half a dozen more in Bohemia,
and awakening so much art and skill in which he knew not how to get off his hands,
doing it, that the world cannot be too exact -my uncle Toby was so touch'd with the
in ascertaining the precise time of its dis- pleasantry of heart of the Corporal,-that
covery, or too inquisitive in knowing what he discontinued his dissertation upon gungreat man was the discoverer, and what powder,-and begged the Corporal forthoccasions gave birth to it.            with to go on with his story of the King of
I am far from controverting, continued Bohemia and his seven castles.
my uncle Toby, what historians agree in, THE STORY OF THE KING OF BOHEMIA AND
that in the year of our Lord 1380, under    HIS SEVEN CASTLES, CONTINUED.
the reign of Wencelaus, son of Charles the  This unfortunate King of Bohemia, said
Fourth,-a certain priest, whose name was Trim,-VWas he unfortunate, then? cried
Schwartz, show'd the use of powder to the my uncle Toby, for he had been so wrapt
Venetians, in their wars against the Geno- up in his dissertation upon gunpowder, and
ese; but'tis certain he was not the first; other military affairs, that though he had
because, if we are to believe Don Pedro, desired the Corporal to go on, yet the many
the bishop of Leon,-How came priests and interruptions he had given, dwelt not so
bishops, an' please your Honor, to trouble strong on his fancy as to account for the
their heads so much about gunpowder 1- epithet.-Was he unfortunate, then, Trim?
God knows. said my uncle Toby,-his provi- said my uncle Toby, pathetically.-The
dence brings good out of every thing-and Corporal, wishing first the word and all its
ne avers, in his chronicle of King Alphon- synonimas at the Devil, forthwith began to
sus, who reduced Toledo, that in the year run back in his mind the principal events
1343, which was full thirty-seven years in the King of Bohemia's story; from every
before that time, the secret of powder was one of which, it appearing that he was the
weL Known. and employed with success, most fortunate man that ever existed in the




OF TR;ISTRAMN SHANDY..


239


world,-it put the Corporal to a stand; for [your Honor, quoth Trim, that every thing
not caring to retract his epithet,-and less was predestined for us in this world; insoto explain it,-and least of all to twist his much, that he would often say to his soltale (like men of lore) to serve a system,- diers, that "every ball had its billet."-He
he looked up in my uncle Toby's face for was a great man, said my uncle Toby.assistance;-but seeing it was the very And I believe, continued Trim, to this day
thing my uncle Toby sat in expectation of that the shot which disabled me at the bathimself, after a hum and a haw,'he went tle of Landen, was pointed at my knee for
on-                                    no other purpose but to take me out of his
The King of Bohemia, an' please your service, and place me in your Honor's,
Honor, replied the Corporal, was unfortu- where I should be taken so much better
nate, as thus:-That taking great pleasure care of in my old age.-It shall never,
and delight in navigation and all sort of sea Trim, be construed otherwise, said my unaffairs;-and there happening throughout cle Toby.the whole kingdom of Bohemia to be no    The heart, both of the master and the
sea-port town whatever,-              man, were alike subject to sudden overflow-How the deuce should there, Trim? ings;-a short silence ensued.cried my uncle Toby; for Bohemia being   Besides, said the Corporal, resuming the
totally inland, it could have happen'd no discourse, but in a gayer accent,-if it had
otherwise.                             not been for that single shot, I had never,
— It might, said Trim, if it had pleased an' please your Honor, been in love.God.-                                    So thou wast once in love, Trim l said
My uncle Toby never spoke of the being my uncle Toby, smiling.and natural attributes of God, but with dif-  Souse! replied the Corporal,-over head
fidence and hesitation.-               and ears! an' please your Honor.-Prithee,
I believe not, replied my uncle Toby, when? where? and how came it to pass I
after some pause;-for being inland, as I -I never heard one word of it before, quotn
said, and having Silesia and Moravia to the my uncle Toby.- I dare say, answered
east; Lusatia and Upper Saxony to the Trim, that every drummer and serjeant s
north; Franconia to the west; and Bavaria son in the regiment knew of it.-'Tis hign
to the south,-Bohemia could not have been time I should,-said my uncle Toby.propell'd to the sea without ceasing to be  Your Honor remembers with concern,
Bohemia;-nor could the sea, on the other said the Corporal, the total rout and confuhand, have come up to Bohemia, without sion of our camp and army at the affair of
overflowing a great part of Germany, and Landen: every one was left to shift for
destroying millions of unfortunate inhabit- himself; and if it had not been for the regiants who could make no defence against it. ments of Wyndham, Lumley, and Galway,
-Scandalous, cried Trim.-Which would which covered the retreat over/the bridge
bespeak, added my uncle Toby, mildly, such of Neerspeeken, the king himself could
a want of compassion in him who is the scarce have gained it;-he was press'd hard,
father of it,-that, I think, Trim,-the thing as your Honor knows, on every side of him.could have happen'd no way.-             Gallant mortal! cried my uncle Toby,
The Corporal made the bow of unfeign'd caught with enthusiasm, this moment, now
conviction, and went on.-             that all is lost, I see him galloping across
Now the King of Bohemia, with his me, Corporal, to the left, to bring up the
Queen and courtiers, happening one fine remains of the English horse along with
summer's evening to walk out,-Ay, there him, to support the right, and tear the laurel
the word happening is right, Trim, cried from Luxembourg's brows, if yet'tis posmy uncle Toby; for the King of Bohemia sible:-I see him with the knot of his scarf
and his Queen might have walked out or just shot off, infusing fresh spirits into poor
let it alone:-'twas a matter of contingency Galway's regiment,-riding along ine line;
which might happen or not, just as chance -then wheeling about, and charging Conti
urdered it.-                           at the head of it.-Brave! brave, by HeaKing William was of an opinion, an' please ven! cried my uncle Toby; he deserves a




240


LIFE AND OPINIONS


crown    As richly, as a thief a halter, 
shouted Tiim.
My uncle Toby knew the Corporal's loyalty-otherwise the comparison was not at
all to his mind:-it did not altogether strike
the Corporal's fancy when he had made it;
-but it could not be recall'd; so he had
nothing to do, but proceed.
As the number of wounded was prodigious, and no one had time to think of
any thing but his own safety,-Though
Talmash, said my uncle Toby, brought off
the foot with great prudence.-But I was
left upon the field, said the Corporal.-Thou
wast so, poor fellow! replied my uncle
Toby.-So that it was noon the next day,
continued the Corpora], before I was exchanged, and put into a cart with thirteen
or fourteen more, in order to be conveyed
to our hospital.
There is no part of the body, an' please
your Honor, where a wound occasions more
intolerable anguish than upon the knee.Except the groin, said my uncle Toby.An' please your Honor, replied the Corporal, the knee. in my opinion, must certainly
1be the most acute, there being so many tendons and what-d'ye-call-'ems all about it.It is for that reason, quoth my uncle Toby,
that the groin is infinitely more sensible;there being not only as many tendons and
what-d'ye-call-'ems (for I know their names
as little as thou dost)-about it,-but moreover,** *- 
Mrs. Wadman, who had been all the time
in her arbor,-instantly stopp'd her breath,
unpinn'd her mob at the chin, and stood up
upon one leg.
The dispute was maintained with amicable and equal force betwixt my uncle Toby
and Trim for some time; till Trim at length
recollecting that he had often cried at his
master's sufferings, but never shed a tear at
his own,-was for giving up the point;
which my uncle Toby would not allow.-'Tis a proof of nothing, Trim, said he, but
the generosity of thy temper.
So that whether the pain of a wound in
the groin (ceterzs paribus) is greater than
the pain of a wound in the knee,-or
Whether the pain of a wound in the knee
is not greater than the pain of a wound in
the groin,-are points which to this day remlain unsettled.


CHAP. XX.






THr anguish of my knee, conti i..ed the
Corporal, was excessive in itself; and the
uneasiness of the cart, with the roughness
of the roads, which were terribly cut up,making bad still worse,-every step was
death to me; so that with the loss of blood,
and the want of care-taking of me, and a
fever I felt coming on besides,-(Poor soul 
said my uncle Toby.)-All together, an'
please your Honor, was more than I could
sustain.
I was telling my sufferings to a young
woman at a peasant's house, where our cart,
which was the last of the line, had halted;
they had help'd me in, and the young woman had taken a cordial out of, her pocket
and dropp'd it upon some sugar; and seeing
it had cheer'd me, she had given it me a
second and a third time.-So I was telling
her, an' please your Honor, the anguish I
was in, and was saying it was so intolerable
to me, that I had much rather lie down
upon the bed, turning my face towards one
which was in the corner of the room,-and
die,-than go on,-when, upon the attempting to lead me to it, I fainted away in her
arms.-She was a good soul! as your Honor, said the Corporal, wiping his eyes, will
hear.I thought love had been a joyous thing,
quoth my uncle Toby.-'Tis the most serious thing, an' please
your Honor (sometimes) that is in the
world.By the persuasion of the young woman,
continued the Corporal, the cart with the
wounded men set off without me; she had
assured them I should expire immediately
if 1 was put into the cart. So when I came
to myself,-I found myself in a still quiet
cottage, with no one but the young woman,
and the peasant and his wife. I was laid
across the bed in the corner of the room,
with my wounded leg upon a chair, and the
young woman beside me, holding the corner
of her handkerchief dipp'd in vinegar to my
nose with one hand, and rubbing my temples with the other.
I took her at first for the daughter of the
peasant (for it was no inn);-so had offer'd
her a little purse with eighteen florins,
which my poor brother Tom (here Trim




OF TRISTR~RAM SHANDY..


241


wip'd his eyes) had sent me as a token, by fever ran very high that night;-her figure
a recrrit, just before he set out for Lisbon. made sad disturbance within me;-I was
I never told your Honor that piteous story every moment cutting the world in two, —
yet,-(Here Trim wip'd his eyes a third to give her half of it;-and every moment
time.)                                  was I crying, That I had nothing but a
The young woman call'd the old man and knapsack and eighteen florins to share with
his wife into the room to show them the her.-The whole night long was the fair
money, in order to gain me credit for a bed Beguine, like an angel, close by my bedand what little necessaries I should want, side, holding back my curtain, and offering
till I should be in a condition to be got to me cordials; — and I was only awakened
the hospital.-Come then, said she, tying up from my dream by her coming there at the
the little purse,-I'll be your banker;-but hour promised, and giving them in reality.
as that office alone will not keep me em- -In truth, she was scarce ever from me;
ploy'd, I'll be your nurse too.-        and so accustomed was I to receive life from
I thought by her manner of speaking this, her hands, that my heart sickened, and I
as well as by her dress, which I then began lost color, when she left the room; and yet.
to consider more attentively, -that the continued the Corporal (making one of the
young woman could not be the daughter of strangest reflections upon it, in the world)the peasant.                              "It was not love;"-for during the three
She was in black down to her toes, with Weeks she was almost constantly with me,
her hair concealed under a cambric border, fomenting my knee with her hand night
laid close to her forehead: she was one of and day,-I can'honestly say, an' please
those kind of nuns, an' please your Honor, your Honor,-that * * * * * * * * * * *
of which your Honor knows there are a * * **      *     * * * *  once.good many in Flanders, which they let go  That was very odd, Trim, quoth my uncle
loose.-By thy description, Trim, said my Toby.uncle Toby, I dare say she was a young    I think so too,-said Mrs. Wadman.
Beguine, of which there are none to be    It never did, said the Corporal.
fobund anywhere but in the Spanish Netherlands,-except at Amsterdam:-they differ from nuns in this, that they can quit
their cloister if they choose to marry; they
visit and take care of the sick by profession.       CHAP. XXI.
I had rather, for my own part, they did it
out of good-nature.-                      -BUT'tis no marvel, continued the Cor
She often told me, quoth Trim, she did poral,-seeing my uncle Toby musing upon
it for the love of Christ.-I did not like it.- it,-for love, an' please your Honor, is exI believe, Trim, we are both wrong, said actly like war, in this; that a soldier, though
my uncle Toby: -we'll ask Mr. Yorick he has escaped three weeks complete o'
about it to-night, at my brother Shandy's; Saturday night,-may, nevertheless, be shot
so put me in mind, added my uncle Toby.- through his heart on Sunday morning.-It
The young Beguine, continued the Cor- happened so here, an' please your Honor.
poral, had scarce given herself time to tell with this difference only,-that it was on
me, "she would be my nurse," when. she Sunday in the afternoon, when 1 fell in love
hastily turned about to begin the office of all at once with a sisserara.-It burst upon
one, and prepare something for me;-and me, an' please your Honor, like a bomb,iii a short time,-though I thought it a long scarce giving me time to say, " God bless
one,-she came back with flannels, &c. &c. me."and having fomented my knee soundly for   I thought, Trim, said my uncle roby, a
a couple of hours, &c. and made me a bason man never fell in love so very suddenly.of thin gruel for my supper,-she wish'd   Yes, an' please your Honor, if he is in the
me rest, and promised to be with me early way of it,-replied Trim.
in the morning. -She wish'd me, an' please  I prithee, quoth my uncle Toby, inforwr
your Honor, what was not to be had.-My me how this matter happened. —; ~ hi                               21




242


LIFE AND OPINIONS


With all pleasure, said the
making a bow.


Corporal,




CHAP. XXII.
I HAD escaped, continued the Corporal,
all that time from falling in love, and had
gone on to the end of the chapter, had it not
teen predestined otherwise.-There is no
resisting our fate.-It was on a Sunday, in
the afternoon, as I told your Honor.
The old man and his wife had walked
out.Every thing was still and hush as midnight about the house.
There was not so much as a duck or a
duckling about the yard,When the fair Beguine came in to see




down the fourth, and then rubb'd with liei
whole hand. I will never say another word,
an' please your Honor, upon hands again;but it was softer than satin.-Prithee, Trim, commend it as much as
thou wilt, said my uncle Toby; I shall hear
thy story with the more delight.-The Corporal thank'd his master most unfeignedly;
but having nothing to say upon the Beguine's
hand but the same over again,-he proceeded to the effects of it.
The fair Beguine, said the Corporal, continued rubbing with her whole hand under
my knee,-till I fear'd her zeal would weary
her.-" I would do a thousand times more,"
said she, " for the love of Christ."-In saying
which, she pass'd her hand across the flannel, to the part above my knee, which I had
equally complain'd of, and rubb'd it also.
I perceived then, I was beginning to be




me.                                  in love.My wound was then in a fair way of do-  As she continued rub-rub-rubbing, I felt
ing well,-the inflammation had been gone it spread from under her hand, an' please
off for some time; but it was succeeded with your Honor, to every part of my frame.
an itching both above and below my knee,  The more she rubb'd, and the longer
so insufferable, that I had not shut my eyes strokes she took, the more the fire kindled
the whole night for it.-             in my veins,-till at length, by two or three
Let me see it, said she, kneeling down strokes longer than the rest, my passion rose
upon the ground parallel to my knee, and to the highest pitch.-I seiz'd her hand,laying her hand upon the part below it.-It  And then thou clapped'st it to thy lips,
only wants rubbing a little, said the Beguine; Trim, said my uncle Toby, and madest a
so covering it with the bed-clothes, she be- speech.
gan with the fore-finger of her right hand  Whether the Corporal's amour termito rub under my knee, guiding her fore-fin- nated precisely in the way my uncle Toby
ger backwards and forwards by the edge of described it, is not material; it is enough that
the flannel which kept on the dressing.  it contained in it the essence of all the loveIn five or six minutes I felt slightly the romances which ever have been wrote since
end of her second finger, and presently it the beginning of the world.
was laid flat with the other, and she continued rubbing in that way round and round
for a good while; it then came into my head,
that I should fall in love:-I blush'd when       CHAP. XXIII.
1I saw how white a hand she had.-I shall
never, an please your Honor, behold another  As soon as the Corporal had finished the
hand so white whilst I live.-        story of his amour,-or rather my uncle
Not in that place, said my uncle Toby.- Toby for him,-Mrs. Wadman silently sal-'rhough it was the most serious despair lied forth from her arbor, replaced the pin
in nature to the Corporal,-he could not in her mob, pass'd the wicker-gate, and adfbrbear smiling.-                     vanced slowly towards my uncle Toby's
The young Beguine, continued the Cor- sentry-box: the disposition which Trim had
poral, perceiving it was of great service to made in my uncle Toby's mind, was too fa
me,-from rubbing for some time with two vorable a crisis to be let slip.
firgers,-proceeded to rub at length with  -The attack was determin'd upon: it
ltree, -till by little and little she brought was facilitated still more by my uncle




OF TRISTRAM SHANDY.


243


Toby's having ordered the Corporal to
wheel off the pioneer's shovel, the spade,
the pick-ax, the piquets, and other military
stores which lay scatter'd upon the ground
where Dunkirk stood.-The Corporal had
march'd;-the field was clear.
Now, consider, Sir, what nonsense it is,
either in fighting, or writing, or any thing
else (whether in rhyme to it, or not) which
a man has occasion to do,-to act by plan:
for if ever Plan, independent of all circumstances, deserved registering in letters of
gold (I mean in the archives of Gotham)it was certainly the Plan of Mrs. Wadman's
attack of my uncle Toby in his sentry-box,
by plan.-Now, the plan hanging up in it
at this juncture, being the plan of Dunkirk,
-and the tale of Dunkirk a tale of relaxation, it opposed every impression she could
make: and, besides, could she have gone
upon it, —the maneuvre of fingers and
hands in the attack of the sentry-box, was
so outdone by that of the fair Beguine's, in
Trim's story,-that just then, that particular
attack, however successful before,-became
the most heartless attack that could be
made.
O! let woman alone for this. Mrs. Wadman had scarce open'd the wicker-gate,
when her genius sported with the change
of circumstances.
She formed a new attack in a moment.
CHAP. XXIV.
-I AM half distracted, Captain Shandy,
said Mrs. Wadman, holding up her cambric
handkerchief to her left eye, as she approach'd the door of my uncle Toby's sentrybox; a mote,-or sand,-or something,-I
know not what, has got into this eye of
mine;-do look into it:-it is not in the
white.In saying which, Mrs. Wadman edged
herself close in beside my uncle Toby, and
squeezing herself down upon the corner of
his bench, she gave him an opportunity of
doing it without rising up,-Do look into it,
said she.
Honest soul! thou didst look into it with
as much innocency of heart as ever child
look'd into a raree show-box; and'twere
as much a sin to have hurt thee.


If a man will be peeping of his own accord into things of that nature, I've nothing
to say to it.
My uncle Toby never did; and I wil
answer for him, that he would have sat
quietly upon a sofa from June to January
(which, you know, takes in both the hot and
cold months) with an eye as fine as the
Thracian * Rhodope's beside him, without
being able to tell whether it was a black or
a blue one.
The difficulty was, to get my uncle Toby
to look at one at all.'Tis surmounted. And
I see him yonder, with his pipe pendulous
in his hand, and the ashes falling out of it,
-looking, —and looking, -then rubbing
his eyes,-and looking again, with twice
the good-nature that ever Galileo look'd for
a spot in the sun.
In vain! for, by all the powers which animate the organ,-Widow Wadman's left
eye shines this moment as lucid as her
right;-there is neither mote, nor sand, nor
dust, nor chaff, nor speck, nor particle of
opake matter floating in it.-There is nothing, my dear paternal uncle! but one
lambent delicious fire, furtively shooting
out from every part of it, in all directions,
into thine.
If thou lookest, uncle Toby, in search of
this mote one moment longer, thou art undone.
CHAP. XXV.
AN eye is, for all the world, exactly like
a cannon, in this respect, That it is not so
much the eye or the cannon, in themselves,
as it is the carriage of the eye-and the
carriage of the cannon; by which both the
one and the other are enabled to do so much
execution. I don't think the comparison a
bad one: however, as'tis made and placed
at the head of the chapter, as much for use
as ornament, all I desire in return, is, that.
whenever I speak of Mrs. Wadman's eyes
(except once in the next period) that v;,
keep it in your fancy.
* Rhodope Thracia tam inevitabili fascino instruc to,
tam exacte oculis intuens attraxit, ut si In illam quia
incidisset; fieri non posset, quin caperetur.-I KNCOWt
NOT WHO.




'244                       LIFE AND OPINIONS
I protest, Madam, said my uncle Toby, I against the
can see nothing whatever in your eye.  there is one
-It is not in the white, said Mrs. Wad- or other, th
man.-My uncle Toby look'd with might gether, had
and main into the pupil.               his first trai
Now, of all the eyes which ever were he begins th
created; from your own, Madam, up to those  "A devil'
of Venus herself, which certainly were as  "As nevei
venereal a pair of eyes as ever stood in a  In short, (
head, there never was an eye of them all father was a
so fitted to rob my uncle Toby of his repose, preaching r
as the very eye at which he was looking;- only he did
it was not, Madam, a rolling eye,-a romp- as Ernulphu
ing, or a wanton one;-nor was it an eye with Ernull
sparkling, petulant, or imperious,-of high father, witi
claims and terrifying exactions, which would would curse
have curdled at once that milk of human thing under
nature, of which my uncle Toby was made ing or abetti
up;-lbut'twas an eye full of gentle salu- concluded I
tations,-and soft responses,-speaking,-  without cur
not like the trumpet-stop of some ill-made as one of the
organ, in which many an eye I talk to combs, he w
holds coarse converse, but whispering soft, in the world
-like the last low accents of an expiring  My uncle
saint,- "How can you live comfortless, like a lamb
"Captain Shandy, and alone, without a work in his
"bosom to lean your head on, - or trust the sharpes
"your cares to?"                      (like that on
It was an eye —                      fretful or d
But I shall be in love with it myself, if neither heav
1 say another word about it.           spoke an in
It did my uncle Toby's business,     any part of
with his pip
then whiffir
which, mixii
CHAP. XXVI.                no one mort
He took ii
THERE is nothing' shows the characters  In truth,
of my father and my uncle Toby in a more hr,ing take
entertaining light, than their different man- very mornin
ner of deportment under the same accident; tiful wood,
-for I call not love a misfortune; from a were hewin
persuasion, that a man's heart is ever the which said,
better for it.-Great God! what must my uncle Toby'.
uncle Toby's have been, when'twas all be- to him in h
nignity without it!-                  Wynnendal(
My father, as appears from many of his save it, upon
papers, was very subject to this passion be- &c. &c... i
fore he married;-but, from a little subacid rous part of
kind of drollish impatience in his nature, two skins, ir
whenever it befell him, he would never submnit to it like a Christian; but would pish,  * This will
and huff, and bounce, and kick, and play the Socates, &c., and write the bitterest Phiippics much as they d
Ijivil, and write the bitterest Philippics much as they d


eye that ever man wrote:in verse upon somebody's eye
at, for two or three nights toput him by his rest; which, in
nsport of resentment against it,
ius:tis-and mischief such doth work
yet did Pagan, Jew, or Turk."*
luring the whole paroxysm, my,11 abuse and foul language, ap-:ather towards malediction;not do it with as much method
s;-he was too impetuous; noi
phus's policy;-for though my
i the most intolerant spirit,
both this and that, and every
Heaven, which was either aiding to his love,-yet he never
iis chapter of curses upon it,
~sing himself in at the bargain,
e most egregious fools and cox-'ould say, that ever was let loose
I.
Toby, on the contrary, took it,-sat still, and let the poison
veins without resistance;-in
t exacerbations of his wound
i his groin) he never dropt one
iscontented word,-he blamed'en nor earth,-nor thought, nor
jurious thing of any body, or
it; he sat solitary and pensive
e,-looking at his. lame leg,ig out a sentimental heigh-ho!
ng with the smoke, incommoded
al.
t like a lamb, I say.
he had mistook it at first; for,
n a ride with my father that
g, to save, if possible, a beauwhich the dean and chapter
g down to giye to the poor;t
wood being in full view of my
s house, and of singular service.is description of the battle of
e,-by trotting on too hastily tc
I an uneasy saddle, worse horse..t had so happened, that the se-' the blood had got betwixt the
1 the nethermost part of my un

be printed with my father's Life of
r must mean the poor in spirit! inaslivided the money amongst themselves




OF TRISTRAM SHANDY.


245


cle Toby,-the first shootings of which (as
my uncle Toby had no experience of love)
he had taken for a part of the passion, till
the blister breaking in the one case, and
the other remaining, my uncle Toby was
presently convinced that his wound was
not a skin-deep wound, but that it had gone
to his heart.
CHAP. XXVII.
THE world is ashamed of being virtuous.
-My uncle Toby knew little of the world;
and therefore, when he felt he was in love
with Widow Wadman, he had no conception that the thing was any more to be
made a mystery of, than if Mrs. Wadman
had given him a cut with a gap'd knife
across his finger. Had it been otherwise,yet, as he ever look'd upon Trim as an
humble friend, and saw fresh reasons every
day of his life to treat him as such,-it
would have made no variation in the manner in which he informed him of the affair.
"I am in love, Corporal!" quoth my uncle Toby.
CHAP. XXVIII.
IN love!-said the Corporal,-your Honor
was very well the day before yesterday,
when I was telling your Honor the story of
the King of Bohemia.-Bohemia! said my
uncle Toby ---- musing a long time -- --
What became of that story, Trim 3
-We lost it, an' please your Honor,
somehow betwixt us;-but your Honor was
as free from love then, as I am.-'Twas
just whilst thou went'st off with the wheelbarrow,-with Mrs. Wadman, quoth my
uncle Toby.-She has left a ball here,
added my uncle Toby, pointing to his breast.
-She can no more, an' please your
Honor, stand a siege, than she can fly, cried
the Corporal.
But as we are neighbors, Trim, the best
way, I think, is to let her know it civilly
first, quoth my uncle Toby.
Now, if I might presume, said the Corporal, to differ from vour Honor,

Why else do I talk to thee, Trim? said
my uncle Toby, mildly.
-Then I would begin, an' please your
Honor, with making a good thundering at
tack upon her, in return,-and telling her
civilly afterwards;-for if she knows any
thing of your Honor's being in love, beforehand-L-d help her!-she knows
no more at present of it, Trim, said my
uncle Toby,-than the child unborn.
Precious souls!Mrs. Wadman had told it, with all its
circumstances, to Mrs. Bridget, twenty-four
hours before; and was, at that very moment,
sitting in council with her, touching some
slight misgivings with regard to the issue
of the affair, which the Devil, who never
lies dead in a ditch, had put into her head,
-before he would allow her half time to
get quietly through her Te Deum.
I am terribly afraid, said Widow Wadman, in case I should marry him, Bridget,
-that the poor Captain will not enjoy his
health, with the monstrous wound upon his
groin.
-It may not, Madam, be so very large,
replied Bridget, as you think;-and I believe, besides, added she,-that'tis dried up.
-I could like to know,-merely for his
sake, said Mrs. Wad man.
-We'll know the long and the broad of
it in ten days, answered Mrs. Bridget; for
whilst the Captain is paying his addresses
to you,-I'm confident Mr. Trim will be
for making love to me;-and I'll let him as
much as he will, added Bridget, to get it
all out of him.
The measures were taken at once;-and
my uncle Toby and the Corporal went on
with theirs.
Now, quoth the Corpora], setting his left,
hand a-kimbo, and giving such a flourish
with his right, as just promised success,and no more,-if your Honor will give me
leave to lay down the plan of this attack,Thou wilt please me by it, Trim, said my
uncle Toby, exceedingly;-and as I foresee
thou must act in it as my aid-de-camp, here's
a crown, Corporal, to begin with, to steep
thy commission.
-Then, an' please your Honor, said tne
Corporal, (making a bow first for his com
mission)-we will begin with getting your
Honor's laced clothes out of the great can
21*




246                        LIFE AND
paign-trunk, to be well air'd, and have the
blue and gold taken up at the sleeves; —and
I'll put your white ramillie-wig fresh into
pipes;-and send,for a taylor to have your
Honor's thin scarlet' breeches turn'd.I had better take the red plush ones, quoth
my uncle Toby.-They will be too clumsy,
said the Corporal.


CHAP. XXIX.
-THOU wilt get a brush and a little chalk
to my sword. —'Twill be only in your Honor's way, replied Trim.
CHAP. XXX.
-BUT your Honor's two razors shall be
new set-and I will get my Montero-cap
furbish'd up, and put on poor Lieutenant
I,e Fevre's regimental coat, which your
Honor gave me to wear for his sake;-and
as soon as your Honor is clean shaved,-and
has got your clean shirt.on, with your blue
and gold or your fine scarlet,-sometimes
one and sometimes t'other, -and every thing
is ready for the attack,-we'll march up
boldly, as if'twas to the face of a bastion;
and whilst your Honor engages Mrs. Wadman in the parlor, to the right.-I'll attack
Mrs. Bridget in the kitchen, to the left; and
oaving seiz'd that pass, I'll answer for it,
said the Corporal, snapping his fingers over
his head,-that the day is your own.
- I wish I may but manage it right, said
my uncle Toby; —but I declare, Corporal, I
had rather march up to the very edge of a
trench.
— A Woman is quite a different thing,
said the Corporal.
— I suppose so, quotl my uncle Toby.
CHAP. XXXI.,F any thing in this world which my
father said, could have provoked my uncle
Toby, during the time he was in love, it
was the perverse use my father was always


tites of the lower part ot us; so that tor
many years of my father's life,'twa,8 his
constant mode of expression;-he never
used the word passions once,-but ass always, instead of tbern;-so that he might
be said truly to have been upon the bones,
or the back of his own ass, or else of some
other man's, during all that time.
I must here, observe to you the difference
betwixt
My father's Ass and
My HOBBY-HORSri,,-in order to
keep characters as separate as may be, ill
our fancies as we goalong.
For my'l-lobby-Ilorse, if you recollect a
little, is no way a vicious beast; he has -scarce
one hair or lineament of the ass about him.
_'Tis the sporting little filly-folly which
carries you out for the present hour,-a
maggot, a butterfly, apicture, a fiddle-stick,
an uncle Toby's siege, or an any thing
which a man makes a shift to get astride
on, to canter it away from the cares and solicitudes of life.-'Tis as useful a beast as
is in the whole creation;-nor do I really
see how the world could do without it.
-But for myfather's ass.-Ob! mount
him,-mount him,-mount, him, -(that's
three times, is it not?)-mount him not:'tis a beast coneupiscent; and foul befall
the man who does not hinder him from
kicking.
CHAP. XXXII.
WELL, dear brother Toby, said my father,
upon his first seeing him after be fell in
love,-and bow'oes it with your Ass?
Now, my uncla Toby thinking more of
the part where he had had the blister, than
of Hilarion's metapbor,-and our precon.


OPINIONS
making of an expression of Ililarion, the
hermit; who, in speaking of his abstinence.
his watchings, flagellations, and other instrumental parts of his religion,-would say
-though with more facetiousness than became a hermit, "That they were the means
"he used to make his ass (meaning his body)
"leave off kicking."
It pleased my father well; it was not only
a laconic way of expressing,-but of libelling, at the same time, the desires and appetites of the lower part of us; so that for
many years of my father's life,'twa.s his
constant mode of expression; —he never
used the word passions once,-but ass always, instead of them;-so that he might
be said truly to have been upon the bones,
or the back of his own ass, or else of some
other man's, during all that time.
I must here observe to you the difference
betwixt
My father's Ass and
My HoBRs-HoRsr, —in order to
keep characters as separate as may be, in
our fancies as we go along.
For my Hobby-tIorse, if you recollect a
little, is no way a vicious beast; he has Scarce
one hair or lineament of the ass about him.
-'Tis the sporting little filly-folly which
carries you out for the present hour,-a
maggot, a butterfly, a picture, a fiddle-stick,
-an uncle Toby's siege, or an any thing
which a man makes a shift to get astride
on, to canter it away fiom the cares and solicitudes of life.-'Tis as useful a beast as
is in the whole creation;-nor do I really
see how the world could do without it.
-But for my father's ass.-Oh! mount
him, —mount him,-mount him, — (that's
three times, is it not?)-mount him not:-'tis a beast concupiscent;-and foul befall
the man who does not hinder him from
kicking.
CHAP. XXXII.
WELL, dear brother Toby, said my father,
upon his first seeing him after he fell in
love,-and how goes it with your Ass?
Now, my uncle Toby thinking more of
the part where he had had the blister, than
of Hilarion's metaphor,-and our precon.




OF TRISTRAM SHANDY.


247


ceptions having (you know) as great a power
over the sounds of words as the shapes of
things, he had imagined that my father,
who was not very ceremonious in his choice
of words, had inquired after the part by its
proper name: so, notwithstanding my mother,
Dr. Slop, and Mr. Yorick, were sitting in
the parlor, he thought it rather civil to
conform to the term my father had made
use of than not. When a man is hemm'd
in by two indecorums, and must commit one
of'em, I always observe,-let him choose
which he will, the world will blame him;
-so I should not be astonish'd if it blames
my uncle Toby.
My a-e, quoth my uncle Toby, is much
better, brother Shandy.-My father had
formed great expectations from his Ass in
this onset: and would have brought him
on again; but Doctor Slop setting up an intemperate laugh, and my mother crying out
L-    bless us!-it drove my father's Ass
off the field:-and the laugh then becoming
general,-there was no bringing him back
to the charge for some time:And so the discourse went on without
him.
Every body, said my mother, says you are
in love, brother Toby;-and we hope it is
true.
I am as much in love, sister, I believe,
replied my uncle Toby, as any man usually
is.-Humph! said my father.-And when
did you know it quoth my mother.
-When the blister broke, replied my
uncle Toby.
My uncle Toby's reply put my father into
good temper,-so he charged o' foot.
CHAP. XXXIII.
As the ancients agree, brother Toby, said
my father, that there are two different and
distinct kinds of love, according to the different parts which are affected by it,-the
brain or liver,-I think when a man is in
love, it behoves him a little to consider
which of the two he has fallen into.
— Vhat signifies it, brother Shandy, replied my uncle Toby, which of the two it is,
provided it will but make a man marry, and
love his wife, and get a few children 1




-A few children! cried my father, rising
out of his chair, and looking full in my
mother's face, as he forced his way betwixt
hers and Doctor Slop's, -a few children!
cried my father, repeating my uncle Toby's
words as he walked to and fro.
Not, my dear brother Toby, cried my
father, recovering himself all at once, and
coming close up to the back of my uncle
Toby's chair,-not that I should be sorry
hadst thou a score: —on the contrary, 1
should rejoice,-and be as kind, Toby, to
every one of them as a father. —
My uncle Toby stole his hand, unperceived, behind his chair, to give my father's a
squeeze.Nay, moreover continued he, keeping
hold of my uncle Toby's hand,-so much
dost thou possess, my dear Toby, of the milk
of human nature, and so little of its asperities,-'tis piteous the world is not peopled
by creatures which resemble thee! and was
I an Asiatic monarch, added my father,
heating himself with his new project,-I
would oblige thee, provided it would not
impair thy strength,-or dry up thy radical
moisture too fast,-or weaken thy memory,
or fancy, brother Toby, which these gymnics, inordinately taken, are apt to do,else, dear Toby, I would procure thee the
most beautiful women in my empire, and I
would oblige thee, nolens volens, to beget
for me one subject every month.
As my father pronounced the last word
of the sentence,-my mother took a-pinch
of snuff.Now I would not, quoth my uncle Toby,
get a child, nolens volens, that is, whether
I would or no, to please the greatest prince
upon earth.And'twould be cruel in me, brother
Toby, to compel thee, said my father;-but'tis a case put, to show thee, that it is not
thy begetting a child,-in case thou should'st
be able,-but the system of Love and Marriage thou goest upon, which I would set
thee right in.There is, at least, said Yorick, a grea.
deal of reason and plain sense in Captain
Shandy's opinion of love; and'tis amongst
the ill-spent hours of my life, which I have
to answer for, that I have read so many
flourishing poets and rhetoricians in my tine
from whom I never could extract so much.



248


LIFE AND OPINJTONS


I wish, Yorick, said my -father, you had  What did not a little contribute to leave
read Plato: for there you would have learnt him thus without an ally, was, that if there
that there are two loves.-I know there was any one post more untenable than the
were two religions, replied Yorick, amongst rest, he would be sure to throw himself into
tile ancients;-one for the vulgar, and an- it; and to do him justice, when he was once
other for the learned:-but I think one love. there, he would defend it so gallantly, that
might have served both of them very well. —'twould have been a concern, either to a
It could not, replied my father,-and for brave man, or a good-natured one, to have
the same reasons; for, of these loves, ac- seen him driven out.
cording to Ficinus's comment upon Velasius,  Yorick, for this reason, though he would
the one is rational,-                 often attack him,-yet could never bear to
The other is natural;-              do it with all his force.
the first ancient,-without mother,-where  Doctor Slop's Virginity, in the close of
Venus had nothing to do; the second begot- the last chapter, had got him for once on
ten of Jupiter and Dione,-            the right side of the rampart; and he was
Pray, brother, quoth my uncle Toby, what beginning to blow up all the convents in
has a man who believes in God to do with Christendom about Slop's ears, when Corthis I-My father could not stop to answer, poral Trim came into the parlor to inform
for fear of breaking the thread of his dis- my uncle Toby, that his thin scarlet breechcourse.-                               es, in which the attack was to be made
This latter, continued he, partakes wholly upon Mrs. Wadman, would not do; for that
of the nature of Venus.               the taylor, in ripping them up, in order to
The first, which is the golden chain let turn them, had found that they had been
down from Heaven, excites to love heroic, turn'd before.-Then turn them again; browhich comprehends in it, and excites to, the ther, said my father, rapidly, for there will
desire of philosophy and truth;-the second be many a turning of'em yet before all's
excites to desire simply.-             done in the affair.-They are as rotten as
I think the procreation of children as dirt, said the Corporal.-Then by all means,
beneficial to the world, said Yorick, as the said my father, bespeak a new pair, brother;
finding out the longitude.             -for though I know, continued my father,
To be sure, said my mother, love keeps turning himself to the company, that Widow
peace in the world.-                   Wadman has been deeply in love with my
In the house,-my dear,, I own.-      brother Toby for many years, and has used
It replenishes the earth, said my mother. every art and circumvention of woman to
But it keeps Heaven empty, my dear,- outwit him into the same passion, yet now
replied my father.                     that she has caught him,-her fever will be'Tis Virginity, cried Slop, triumphantly, past its height.
which fills Paradise.-                   She has gained her point.
Well push'd, nun! quoth my father.     In this case, continued my father, which
Plato, I am persuaded, never thought of,Love, you see, is not so much a sentiment
as a situation, into which a man enters, as
my brother Toby would do into a corps,CHAP. XXXIV.                no matter whether he loves the service or
no; being once in it,-he acts as if he did,
MY father had such a skirmishing, cut- and takes every step to show himself a man
ting kind of a slashing way with him in his of prowess.
disputations, thrusting and ripping, and  The hypothesis, like the rest of my fagiving every one a stroke to remember him ther's, was plausible enough, and my uncle
by, in his turn, that if there were twenty Toby had but a single word to object to it,
people in company,-in less than half an -in which Trim stood ready to second
hour he was sure to have every one of'em him;-but my father had not drawn his
against him.                           conclusion.



OF TRISTRAM. SHAN~DY.


249


For this reason, continued my father, -though not so well for me,-that thoi
(stating the case over again)-notwith- hast occasion for a letter of instructions
standing all the world knows that Mrs. upon that head, and that I am able to write
Wadman affects my brother Toby;-and it to thee.
my brother Toby contrariwise affects Mrs.  Had it been the good pleasure of Him
Wadman, and no obstacle in nature to for- who disposes of our lots, and thou no sufferer
bid the music striking up this very night, by the knowledge, I had been well content
yet will I answer for it, that this self-same that thou should'st have dipp'd the pen this
tune will not be play'd this twelvemonth.  moment into the ink, instead ofmyse.f; but
We have taken our measures badly, that not being the case,-Mrs. Shandy bequoth my uncle Toby, looking up interroga- ing now close beside me, preparing for bed,
tively in Trim's face. —.    -I have thrown together, without order,
I would lay my Montero-cap, said Trim.- and just as they have come into my mind,
Now Trim's Montero-cap, as I once told such hints and documents as I deem may
you, was his constant wager; and having be of use to thee, intending, in this, to give
furbish'd it up that very night, in order to thee a token of my love; not doubting, my
go upon the attack,-it made the odds look dear Toby, of the manner in which it will
more considerable.-I would lay, an' please be accepted.
your Honor, my Montero-cap to a shilling,  In the first place, with regard to all
-was it proper, continued Trim (making a which concerns religion in the affair,bow) to offer a wager before your Honors.- though I perceive, from a glow in my
There is nothing improper in it, said my cheek, that I blush as I begin to speak to
father,-'tis a mode of expression; for in thee upon the subject, as well knowing
saying thou would'st lay thy Montero-cap notwithstanding thy unaffected secrecy, how
to a shilling,-all thou meanest is this,- few of its offices thou neglectest,-yet ]
that thou believest,-                 would remind thee of one (during the con
Now, what dost thou believe?       tinuance of thy courtship) in a particular
That Widow Wadman, an' please your manner, which I would not have omitted;
Worship, cannot hold it out ten days.-  and that is, never to go forth upon the enAnd whence, cried Slop, jeeringly, hast terprise, whether it be in the morning or
thou all this knowledge of woman, friend.-  the afternoon, without first recommending
By falling in love with a popish clergy- thyself to the protection of Almighty God,
woman, said Trim.-                    that he may defend thee from the evil one.'Twas a Beguine, said my uncle Toby.-  Shave the whole top of thy crown clean
Doctor Slop was too much in wrath to once at least every four or five days, but
listen to the distinction; and my father oftener if convenient; lest, in taking off
taking that very crisis to fall in helter- thy wig before her, through absence of
skelter upon the whole order of Nuns and mind, she should be able to discover how
Beguines, a set of silly, fusty baggages,  much has been cut away by Time:-how
Slop could not stand it;-and my uncle much by Trim.
Toby having some measures to take about'Twere better to keep ideas of baldness
his breeches,-and Yorick about his fourth out of her fancy.
general division,-in order for their several  Always carry it in thy mind, and act upon
attacks next day,-the company broke up; it as a sure maxim, Toby,and my father being left alone, and having  "That women are timid;" and'tis well
half an hour upon his hands betwixt that they are,-else there would be no dealing
and bed-time, he called for pen, ink, and with them.
paper, and wrote my uncle Toby the fol-  Let not thy breeches be too tight, or hang
lowing letter of instructions:        too loose about thy thighs, like the trunkhose of our ancestors:
My dear brother Toby,               A just medium prevents all conclusions.
What I am going to say to thee, is upon  Whatever thou hast to.say, be it more or
the nature of women, and of love-making less, forget not to utter it in a low soft tone
to them; and perhaps it is as well for thee, of voice; —silence. and whatever approaches
2 G




250


LIFE AND OPINIONS, &c.


it, weaves dreams of midnight secrecy into
the brain; for this cause, if thou canst help
it, never throw down the tongs and poker.
Avoid all kinds of pleasantry and facetiousness in thy discourse with her, and do
whatever lies in thy power, at the same
time, to keep from her all books and writings,which tend thereto: there are some
devotional tracts, which if thou canst entice her to read over,-it will be well; but
suffer her not to look into Rabelais, or
Scarron, or Don Quixote:
They are all books which excite laughter;
and thou knowest, dear Toby, that there is
no passion so serious as lust.
Stick a pin in the bosom of thy shirt,
before thou enterest her parlor.
And if thou art permitted to sit upon the
same sofa with her, and she gives thee occasion to lay thy hand upon hers-beware
of taking it;-thou canst not lay thy hand
on hers, but she will feel the temper of
thine.- Leave that and as many other
things as thou canst, quite undetermined;
by so doing, thou wilt have' her curiosity
on thy side; and if she is not conquered by
that, and thy ass continues still kicking,
which there is great reason to suppose,thou must begin with first losing a few
ounces of blood below the ears, according
to the practice of the ancient Scythians,
who cured the most intemperate fits of the
appetite by that means.
Avicenna, after this, is for having the
part anointed with the syrup of hellebore,
using proper evacuations and purges;-and
I believe rightly.-But thou must eat little
or no goat's flesh, nor red deer;-nor even
foal's flesh by any means;-and carefully
abstain,-that is, as much as thou canst,
from peacocks, cranes, coots, didappers, and
water-hens.
As for thy drink, I need not tell thee, it
must be the infusion of Vervain and the
herb Hanea, of which LElian relates such
effects;-but if thy stomach palls with it,
-discontinue it from time to time,-taking


cucumbers, melons, pursllin, water-lilits,
woodbine, and lettuce in the stead of them.
There is nothing further for thee which
occurs to me at present,
Unless the breaking out of a fresh war
-So wishing every thing, dear Toby, for
the best,
I rest thy affectionate brother,
WALTER SHANDY.
CHAP. XXXV.
WHILST my father was writing his letter
of instructions, my uncle Toby and the
Corporal were busy in preparing every
thing for the attack. As the turning of the
thin scarlet breeches was laid aside (at least
for the present) there was nothing which
should put it off beyond the next morning;
so, accordingly, it was resolved upon for
eleven o'clock.
Come, my dear, said my father to my
mother,'twill be but like a brother and
sister, if you and I take a walk down to my
brother Toby's, -to countenance him in
this attack of his.
My uncle Toby and the Corporal had
both been accoutred some time, when my
father and mother enter'd, and the clock
striking eleven, were that moment in motion to sally forth;-but the account of this
is worth more than to be wove into the fagend of the eighth* volume of such a work
as this.-My father had no time but to put
the letter of instructions into my uncle
Toby's coat-pocket, and join with my mother in wishing his attack prosperous.
I could like, said my mother, to look
through the key-hole, out of curiosity.Call it by its right name, my dear, quoth
my father,And look through the key-hole as long
as you will.


* Alluding to the first edition.




A


DEDICATION
TO
A GREAT MAN.


HAvlIn, t priori, intended to dedicate
The Amour s of my uncle Toby to Mr. * * *,
— I see more reasons, a posteriori, for doing
it to Lord * *  *  - *.
I should lament from my soul, if this exposed me to the jealousy of their Reverences: because, a posteriori, in Court Latin,
signifies the kissing hands for preferment,
-or any thing else,-in order to get it.
My opinion of Lord * * *  * t is neither
better nor worse than-. it was of Mr. ** *.
Honors, like impressions upon coin, may give
an ideal and local value to a bit of base
metal; but gold and silver will pass all the
world over, without any other recommendation than their own weight.
The same good-will that made me think
of offering up half an hour's amusement to
Mr. *    * * when out of place, operates more
forcibly at present, as half an hour's amusement will be more serviceable and refreshing after labor and sorrow, that after a philosophical repat.
Nothing is so perfectly amusement as a


total change of ideas; no ideas are sototally
different as those of Ministers and innocent
Lovers: for which reason, when I come to
talk of Statesmen and Patriots, and set
such marks upon them as will prevent confusion and mistake concerning them for the
future,-I propose to dedicate that volume
to some gentle Shepherd,
Whose thoughts proud Science never taught to sttay,
Far as the Statesman's walk or Patriot's way;
Yet simple J'ature to his-hopes had given,
Out of a cloud-capp'd hill, an hunmbler heaven;
Soine uwtam'd WNorld in depth of woods elmbrac'dSome happier Island in the wat'ry wasteAnd where, admitted to that equal sky,
His faitl/ful Dogr shall hear him company.
In a word, by thus introducing an entire
new set of objects to his imagination, 1
shall unavoidably give a Diversion to his
passionate and love-sick contemplations. Iv
the mean time,
I am
THE AuLi uoL



(4


THE
LIFE AND OPINIONS
OF


GENTLEMAN.


CHAP. I.
I CALL all the powers of time and chance,
which severally check us in our careers in
this world, to bear me witness, that I could
never yet get fairly to my uncle Toby's
amours, till this very moment, that my mother's curiosity, as she stated the affair,-or
a different impulse in her, as my father
would have it, —wished her to take a peep
at them through the key-hole.
"Call it, my dear, by its right name,"
quoth my father, "and look through the
Ikey-hole as long as you will."
Nothing but the fermentation of that little
subacid humor, which I have often spoken
of, in my father's habit, could have vented
such an insinuation;-he was, however,
frank and generous in his nature, and at all
nimes open to conviction; so that he had
scarce got to the last word of this ungracious retort, when his conscience smote
film.
My mother was then conjugally swinging
with her left arm twisted under his right,
in such wise, that the inside of her hand
rested upon the back of his;-she raised her'ingers, and let them fall,-it could scarce
ne called a tap; or, if it was a tap,-'twould
have puzzled a casuist to say, whether'twas
a tap of remonstrance or a tap of confession;
my father, who was all sensibilities from
head to foot, class'd it right;-Conscience
redoubled her blow,-he turn'd his face suddenly the other way, and my mother, supposing his body was about to turn with it,
ir order to move homewards, by a crossmovement of her right leg, keeping her left
a. its centre, brought herself so far in front,
that, as he turned his head, he met her eye:


-Confusion again! he -saw a thousand rea -
sons to wipe out the reproach, and as many
to reproach himself:-a thin, blue, chill, pellucid crystal, with all its humors so at rest,
the least mote or speck of desire mi(,ht have
been seen at the bottom of it, had it existed;-it did not:-and how I happen to be so
lewd myself, particularly a little before the
vernal and autumnal equilloxes,-Heaven
above knows;-my mothers Madam, was so
at no time, either by nature, by institution,
or example.
A, temperate current of blood ran orderly,through her veins in all months of the year,
and- in all critical moments both of the day
and night alike; nor did she superinduce
the least heat into h6r humors from the
manual effiervescences. of devotional tracts,
which, having litile or no meaning in them,
nature is oftentimes obliged to find one; and,
as for my father's example! 'twas so far
from being either aiding or abetting thereunto, that'twas the whole busi'ness of his
life to keep all fanciesof that kind out of
her head;-Nature. had done her part to
have spared him this trouble; and, what was
not a little inconsistent, my father knew it.
-And here am I sitting, this 12th day of
August, 1766, in a purple jerkin and yellow
pair of slippers, without- either wig or cap
on, a most trao-i-comical completion of his
prediction, 11 That I should neither think nor
act like any other mail's childl upon that
very account."
The mistake of my Ifather was, in attacking my mother's motive instead of the act
itself; for, certainly, key-holes were made
for other purposes; and, considering the act
as an act which interfered with a true propo.
sition, and denied a key-hole to be what i.


-Confusion again! he saw a thousand rea
sons to wipe out the reproach, and as many
to reproach himself:-a thin, blue, chill, pellucid crystal, with all its humors so at rest,
the least mote or speck of desire might have
been seen at the bottom of it, had it existed;-it did not:-and how I happen to be so
lewd myself, particularly a little before the
vernal and autumnal equinoxes,-Heaven
above knows;-my mother, Madam, was so
at no time, either by nature, by institution,
or example.
A, temperate current of blood ran orderly
through her veins in all months of the year,
and- in all critical moments both of the day
and night alike; nor did she superinduce
the least heat into her humors from the
manual effervescences of devotional tracts,
which, having little or no meaning in them,
nature is oftentimes obliged to find one; and,
as for my father's example!'twas so far
from being either aiding or abetting thereunto, that'twas the whole business of his
life to keep all fancies of that kind out of
her head; —Nature had done her part to
have spared him this trouble; and, what was
not a little inconsistent, my father knew it.
-And here am I sitting, this 12th day of
August, 1766, in a purple jerkin and yellow
pair of slippers, without either wig or cap
on, a most tragi-comical completion of his
prediction, " That I should neither think nor' act like any other man's child, upon that
"very account."
The mistake of my' father was, in attacking my mother's motive instead of the act
itself; for, certainly, key-holes were made
for other purposes; and, considering the act
as an act which interfered with a true proposition, and denied a key-hole to be what i.




OF TRISTRAM SHANDY.


253


was,-it became a violation of nature; and
was so far, you see, criminal.
It is for this reason, an' please your Reverences, that key-holes are the occasions of
more sin and wickedness than all the other
holes in this world put together:
-Which leads me to my uncle Toby's
amours.
CHAP. II.
THOUGH the Corporal had been as good
as his word in putting my uncle Toby's
great ramillie-wig into pipes, yet the time
was too short to produce any great effects
from it: it had lain many years squeezed
up in the corner of his old campaign-trunk;
and as bad forms are not so easy to be got
the better of, and the use of candle-ends not
so well understood, it was not so pliable a
business as one would have wished. The
Corporal, with cheery eye and both arms extended, had fallen back perpendicular from
it a score of times, to inspire it, if possible,
with a better air:-had Spleen given a look
at it,'twould have cost her ladyship a smile;
-it curl'd everywhere but where the Corporal would have it; and where a buckle or
two, in his opinion, would have done it honor,
he could as soon have raised the dead.
Such it was,-or, rather, such would it
have seem'd upon any other brow;-but the
sweet look of goodness which sat upon my
uncle Toby's assimilated every thing around
it so sovereignly to itself, and Nature had,
moreover, wrote Gentleman with so fair a
hand in every line of his countenance, that
even his tarnish'd gold-lac'd hat and huge
cockade of flimsy taffety became him; and,
though not worth a button in themselves,
yet the moment my uncle Toby put them
on, they became serious objects, and, altogether, seem'd to have been picked up by
the hand of Science to set him off to advantage.
Nothing in this world could have co-operated more powerfully towards this, than
my uncle Toby's blue and gold,-had not
Quantity, in some measure, been necessary
to Grace. In a period of fifteen or sixteen
years since they had been made, by a total
inactivity in my uncle Toby's life (for he


seldom went farther than the bowling-green)
-his blue and gold had become so miserably too strait for him, that it was with
the utmost difficulty the Corporal was able
to get him into them; the taking them up
at the sleeves was of no advantage: they
were laced, however, down the back, and
at the seams of the sides, &c. in the mode
of King William's reign; and to shorten all
description, they shone so bright against
the sun that morning, and had so metallic
and doughty an air with them, that, had
my uncle Toby thought of attacking in
armor, nothing could have so well imposed
upon his imagination.
As for the thin scarlet breeches, they had
been unripp'd by the taylor between the
legs, and left at sixes and sevens.
-Yes, Madam; but let us govern our
fancies. It is enough they were held impracticable the night before; and. as there
was no alternative in my uncle Toby's
wardrobe, he sallied forth in the red plush.
The Corporal had array'd himself in poor
Le Fevre's regimental coat; and with his
hair tuck'd up under his Montero-cap, which
he had furbish'd up for the occasion, march'd
three paces distant from his master: a whiff
of military pride had puff'd out his shirt at
the wrist; and upon that, in a black leather
thong clipp'd into a tassel beyond the knot,
hung the Corporal's stick.-My uncle Toby
carried his cane like a pipe.
-It looks well, at least, quoth my father
to himself.


CHAP. III.


MY uncle Toby turned his head more
than once behind him, to see how he was
supported'by the Corporal; and the CorpQral, as oft as he did it, gave a slight flourish with his stick,-but not vaporingly; and
with the sweetest accent of most respectful
encouragement, bid his Honor "never fear."
Now my uncle Toby did fear, and grievously too; he knew not (as my father had
reproach'd him) so much as the right end
of a woman from the wrong, and therefore,
was never altogether at his ease near any
one of them,-unless in sorrow (or distress'
then infinite was his pity; nor would the
22




254


LIFE AND OPINIONS


most courteous knight of romance have
gone further, at least upon one leg, to have
wiped away a tear from a woman's eye;
and yet, excepting once, that he was beguiled into it by Mrs. Wadman, he had
never looked stedfastly into one; and would
often tell my father, in the simplicity of his
heart, that it was almost (if not about) as
bad as talking bawdy.
— And suppose it is? my father would
say.
CHAP. IV.
SHE cannot, quoth my uncle Toby, halting, when they had march'd up to within
twenty paces of Mrs. Wadman's door,she cannot, Corporal, take it amiss.
-She will take it, an' please your Honor,
said the Corporal, just as the Jew's widow-v
at Lisbon took it of my brother Tom.
-And how was that' quoth my uncle
Toby, facing quite about to the Corporal.
Your Honor, replied the Corporal, knows
of Tom's misfortunes; but this affair has
nothing to do with them any further than
this, That if Tom  had not married the
widow,-or had it pleased God, after their
marriage, that they had but put pork into
their sausages,the honest soul had never been
taken out of his warm bed, and dragg'd to
the Inquisition;-'tis a cursed place, added
the Corporal, shaking his head; when once
a poor creature is in, he is in, an' please
your Honor, for ever.
-'Tis very true, said my uncle Toby,
looking gravely at Mrs. Wadman's house
as he spoke.
-Nothing, continued the Corporal, can
be so sad as confinement for life,-or so
sweet, an' please your Honor, as liberty.
-Nothing, Trim, said my uncle Toby,
mnusing.
-Whilst a man is free, cried the Corporal, giving a flourish with his stick thus:A thousand of my father's niost subtle
syllogisms could not have said more for
uelibac v.




My uncle Toby look'd earnestly towards
his cottage and his bowling-green.
The Corporal had unwarily conjured up
the Spirit of calculation with his wand;
and he had nothing to do but to conjure
him down again with his story; and in this
form of exorcism, most unecclesiasticalli
did the Corporal do it.
CHAP. V.
As Tom's place, an' please your Honor,
was easy, and the weather warm, it put
him upon thinking seriously of settling himself in the world, and as it fell out about
that time, that a Jew, who kept a sausageshop in the same street, had the ill-luck to
die of a stranguary, and leave his, widow in
possession of a rousing trade,-Tom thought
(as every body in Lisbon was doing the
best he could devise for himself) there could
be no harm in offering her his service to
carry it on; so without any introduction tG
the widow, except that of buying a pound
of sausages at her shop,-Tom set out,counting the matter thus within himself as
he walk'd along:-That, let the worst come
of it that could, he should, at least, get a
pound of sausages for their worth;-but, if
things went well, he should be set up; inasmuch as he should get not only a pound
of sausages,- but a wife and a sausageshop, an' please your Honor. into the bargain.
Every servant in the family, from high to
low, wish'd Tom success; and I can fancy,
an' please your Honor, I see him this moment with his white dimity waistcoat and
breeches, and hat a little o' one side, passing jollily along the street, swinging his
stick, with a smile and a cheerful word for
every body he met.-But, alas! Tom! thou
smilest no more, cried the Corporal, looking
on one side of him upon the ground, as if
he apostrophized him in his dungeon.
-Poor fellow! said my uncle Toby,
feeling ly.
-He was an honest, light-hearted lad,
an' please your Honor, as ever blood
warm'd.
-Then he resembled thee, Trim, said
my uncle Toby, rapidly.




OF TRISTRAM SHANDY.


255


The Corporal blush'd down to his fingers',;nds,-a tear of sentimental bashfulness,another of gratitude to my uncle Toby,and a tear of sorrow for his brother's misfortunes, started into his eye, and ran
sweetly down his cheek together.-My
uncle Toby's kindled as one lamp.does.at
another; and taking hold of the breast of
Trim's coat, (which had been that of Le
Fevre's) as if to ease his lame leg, but in
reality to gratify a finer feeling,-he stood
silent for a minute and a half; at the end
of which he took his hand away, and the
Corporal, making a Fow, went on witn his
story of his brother and the Jew's widow.
CHAP. VI.
WHEN Tom, an' please your Honor, got
to the shop, there was nobody in it but a
poor negro girl, with'a bunch of white
feathers slightly tied to the end of a long
cane, flapping away flies,-not killing them.
-'Tis a pretty picture! said my uncle
Toby;-she had suffered persecution, Trim,
and had learnt mercy.
-She was good, an' please your Honor,
from nature, as well as from hardships; and
there are circumstances in the story of that
poor friendless slut, that would melt a heart
of stone, said Trim; and some dismal
winter's evening, when your Honor is in the
humor, they shall be told you with the rest
of Tom's story, for it makes a part of it.
-Then do not forget, Trim, said my uncle
Toby.
-A negro has a soul! an' please your
Honor, said the Corporal (doubtingly).
-I am not much versed, Corporal, quoth
my uncle Toby, in things'of that kind; but
I suppose, God would not leave him without one, any more than thee or me.
-It would be putting one sadly over the
head of another, quoth the Corporal.
It would so, said my uncle Toby.-Why
then, an' please your Honor, is a black
wench to be used worse than a white one?
-I can give no reason, said my uncle
Toby.
-Only, cried the Corporal, shaking his
head, because she has no one to stand up
for her.


-'Tis that very thing, Trim, quoth my
uncle Toby,-which recommends her to
protection,-and her brethren with her;'tis
the fortune of war which has put the whip
into our hands noo;-where it may be
hereafter, Heaven knows! but be it where
it will, the brave, Trim, will not use it unkindly.
-God forbid! said the Corporal.
-Amen, responded my uncle Toby, laying his hand upon his heart.
The Corporal returned to his story, and
went on,-but with an embarrassment in
doing it, which here and there a reader in
this world will not be able to comprehend;
for by the many sudden transitions all along,
from one kind and cordial passion to another, in getting thus far on his way, he
had'lost the sportable key of his voice,
which gave sense and spirit to his tale: he
attempted twice to resume it, but could not
please himself; so giving a stout hem! to
rally back the retreating spirits, and aiding
nature at the same time, with his left arm
a-kimbo on one side, and with his right a
little extended, supporting her on the other,
-the Corporal got as near the note as he
could;-and in that attitude continued his
story.
CHAP. VII.
As Tom, an' please your Honor, had no
business at that time with the Moorish
girl, he passed on into the room beyond, to
talk to the Jew's widow about love,-and
his pound of sausages; and being, as I have
told your Honor, an open cheery-hearted
lad, with his character wrote in his looks
and carriage, he took a chair, and without
much apology, but with great civility at the
same time, placed it close to her at the
table, and sat down.
There is nothing so awkward as courting
a woman, an' please your Honor, whist
she is making sausages.-So Tom began a
discourse upon them: First, gravely,-"As
"how they were made;-with what meats,
"herbs, and spices:"-then a little gaily,as, " With what skins,-and if they never
"burst? —Whether the largest were not




LIFE AND OPINIONS


" the best " and so on,-taking care only
as he went along, to season what he had to
say upon sausages, rather under than over;
-that he might have room to act in.It was owing to the neglect of that very
precaution, said my uncle Toby, laying his
hand upon Trim's shoulder, that Count de
la Motte lost the battle of Wynnendale: he
pressed too speedily into the wood: which if
he had not done, Lisle had not fallen into
our hands, nor Ghent and Bruges; which
both followed -her example.-It was so late
in the year, continued my uncle Toby, and
so terrible a season came on, that if things
had not fallen out as they did, our troops
must have perish'd in the open field.
-Why, therefore, may not battles, an'
please'your Honor, as well as marriages,
be made in Heaven? - My uncle Toby
mused.-Religion inclined him' to say one
thing, and his high idea of military skill
tempted him to say another: so, not being
able to frame a reply exactly to his mind,
-my uncle Toby said nothing at all; and
the Corporal finished his story.
As Tom perceived, an' please your Honor,
that he gained ground, and that all he had
said upon the subject of sausages was kindly
taken, he went on to help her a little in
making them.-First, by taking hold of the
ring of the sausage whilst she stroked the
forced meat down with her hand;-then by
cutting&'the strings into proper lengths, and
holding them in his hand, whilst she took
them out, one by one;- then by putting
them across her mouth, that she might take
them out as she wanted them,-and so on
from little to more, till at last he adventured
to tie* the sausage himself, whilst she held
the snout.
Now a widow, an' please your Honor,
always chooses a second husband as unlike
the first as she can: so the affair was more
than half settled in her mind'before Tom
mentioned it.
She made a feint, however, of defending
herself by snacching up a sausage.-Tom
instantly laid hold of another.But seeing Tom's had r^nee gristle in it,She signed the capitulation,-and Tom
sealed it; and there was' an end of the
clatter.


CHAP. VII1.
ALL womankind, continued Trim (commenting upon his story) from the highest
to the lowest, an' please your Honor, love
jokes; the difficulty is to know -how they
choose to have them cut; and there is no
knowing that but by trying, as we do with
our artillery in the field, by raising or let
ting down their breeches, till we hit the
mark.
-I like the comparison, said my uncle
Toby, better than the thing itself.
— Because your Honor, quoth the Corporal, loves glory more than pleasure.
-I hope, Trim,' answered   my uncle
Toby, I love mankind more than either;
and as the knowledge of arms tends so apparently to the good and quiet of the world,
-and particularly that branch of it which
we have practised together in our bowlinggreen, has no object but to shorten the strides
of Ambition, and intrench the lives and fortunes of the few from the plunderings of the
many;-whenever that drum beats in our
ears, I trust, Corporal, we shall neither of
us want so much humanity and fellow-feeling as to face about and march.
In pronouncing this, my uncle Toby faced
about and march'd firmly as at the head of
his company; -and the faithful Corporal,
shouldering his stick, and striking his hand
upon his coat-skirt as he took his first step,
march'd close behind him  down the
avenue.
-Now what can their two noddles be
about? cried my father to my mother.-By
all that's strange, they are besieging Mrs.
Wadman in form, and are marching round
her house to mark out the lines of circum
vallation!
-I dare say, quoth my mother, —f'ut
stop, dear Sir,-for what my mother dared
to say upon the occasion, -and what my
father did say upon it,-with her replies and
his rejoinders, shall be read, perused, paraphrased, commented, and descanted upon,
-or to say it all in a word, shall be thumb'd
over by Posterity in a chapter apart; I say,
by Posterity —and care not, if I repeat the
word again,-for what has this book done
more than the Legation of Moses, or the




OF TRISTRAM SHANDY.


257


Aale of a Tub, that it may not swim down
the gutter of Time along with them?
I will not argue the matter: Time wastes
too fast: every letter I trace tells me with
what rapidity Life follows my pen; the days
and hours of it, more precious,-my dear
Jenny,-than the rubies about thy neck, are
flying over our heads like light clouds of a
windy day, never to return more;-every
thing presses on,-whilst thou art twisting
that lock,-see! it grows grey; and every
time I kiss thy hand to bid adieu, and every
absence which follows it, are preludes to that
eternal separation which we are shortly to
make.Heaven have mercy upon us both!
CHAP. IX.
Now for what the world thinks of that
ejaculation, — I would not give a groat.


at every new attitude, and gave the Corporal's stick, with all its flourishings and danglings, to as many Devils as chose to accept
of them.
When issues of events like these my
father is waiting for, are hanging in the
scales of fate, the mind has the advantage
of changing the principle of expectation
three times, without which it would not
have power to see it out.
Curiosity governs the first moment; and
the second moment is all economy to justify
the expense of the first;-and for the third,
fourth, fifth, and sixth moments, and so on
to the day of judgment, —'tis a point of
Honor.
I need not be told, that the ethic writers
have assigned this all to Patience; but that
Virtue, methinks, has extent of dominion
sufficient of her own, and enough to do in it,
without invading the few dismantled castles
which Honor has left him upon the earth.
My father stood it out as well as he could
with these three auxiliaries, to the end of
Trim's story; and from thence to the end
of my uncle Toby's panegyric upon arms.
in the chapter following it; when seeing
that, instead of marching up to Mrs. Wadman's door, they both faced about and
march'd down the avenue diametrically cpposite to his expectation,-he broke out at
once with that little subacid sourness of
humor, which, in certain situations, distinguished his character from that of all
other men.


CHAP. X.


MY mother had gone with her left arm
twisted in my father's right, till they had
got to the fatal angle of the old garden-wall,
where Doctor Slop was overthrown by Obadiah on the coach-horse. As this was directly
opposite to the front of Mrs. Wadman's
house, when my father came to it, he gave
a look across; and seeing my uncle Toby
and the Corporal within ten paces of the
door, he turn'd about,-" Let us just stop a
"moment," quoth my father, " and see with
"what ceremonies my brother Toby and his
"man Trim make their first entry;-it will
"not detain us," added my father, " a sin"gle minute."
-No matter if it be ten minutes, quoth
my mother.
-It will not detain us half a one, said my
father.
The Corporal was just then setting in
with the story of his brother Tom and the
Jew's widow: the story went on,-and on;
-it had episodes in it,-it came back and
went on,-and on again; there was no end
of it:-the reader found it very long.
G- help my father! he pish'd fifty times
2 H


CHAP. XI.
"Now what can their two noddles be
about " cried my father, - - &c. --- -
-I dare say, said my mother, they ale
making fortifications.
-Not on Mrs. Wadman's premises!
cried my father, stepping back.
-I suppose not, quoth my mother.
-I wish, said my father, raising his voice,
the whole science of fortification at the
Devil, with all its trumpery of saps, mines,
blinds, gabions, faussebrays, and cuvettes.
-They are foolish things, said my mother.
Now she had a way, which, by the bye,
I would this moment give away my purrie
22*




258


LIFE AND OPINIONS'


jerkin, and my yellow slippers into the bargain, if some of your Reverences would
imitate,-and that was, never to refuse her
assent and consent to any proposition my
father laid before her, merely because she
did not understand it, or had no ideas of the
principal word or term of art upon which
the tenet or proposition rolled. She contented'herself with doing all that her godfathers and godmothers promised for her,but no more; and so would go on using a
hard word for twenty years together,-and
replying to it too, if it was a verb, in all its
moods and tenses, without giving herself
any trouble to inquire about it.
This was an eternal source of misery to
my father, and broke the neck, at the first
setting out, of more good dialogues between
them, than could have done the most petulant contradiction;-the few thati survived
were the better for the cuvettes.
"Theyare foolish things," said my mother.
-Particularly the cuvettes, replied my
father.
It was enough;-he tasted the sweet of
triumph,-and went on.
-Not that they are, properly speaking,
Mrs. Wadman's premises, said my father,
partly correcting himself,-because she is
but tenant for life.
-That makes a great difference-said
my mother.
In a fool's head, replied my'father.
-Unless she should happen to have a
child,' said my mother.
-But she must persuade my brother
Toby first to get her one.
-To be sure, Mr. Shandy, quoth my
mother.
-Though if it comes to persuasion, said
my father,-Lord have mercy upon them!
-Amen, said my mother, piano.
Amen, cried my father, fortissimo.
— Amen, said my mother again,-but
with such a sighing cadence of personal
pity at tne end of it, as discomfited every
fibre about my father;-he instantly took
out his almanac;-but before he could untie it, Yorick's congregation coming out of
church, became a full answer to one half
of his business with it,-an& my mother
telling him it was'  sacrament day, —eft


him as little in doubt, as to the other part. 
He put his almanac into his pocket.
The First Lord of the Treasury, thins
ing of ways and means, could not have re
turned home with a more embarrassed look
CHAP. XII.
UPON looking back from thb end of thoe
last chapter, and surveying the texture of
what has been wrote, it is necessary, that
upon this page and the five following, a
good quantity of heterogeneous matter be
inserted, to keep up that just balance betwixt wisdom and folly, without which, a
book would not hold together a single year;
nor is it a poor creeping digression (which,
but for the name of, -a man might continue
as well going on in the King's highway)
which will do the business.-No, if it is to
be a digression, it'must be a good frisky
one, and upon a frisky subject too, where
neither the horse nor his rider are to be
caught but by rebound.
The only difficulty is, raising powers
suitable to the nature of the service: Fancy
is capricious,- Wit must not be searched
for,-and Pleasantry (good-natured slut as
she is) will not come in at a call, was an
empire to be laid at her feet.
-The best way for a man is, to say his
prayers.
Only, if it puts him in mind of his infirmities and defects, as well ghostly as
bodily,-for that purpose, he will find himself rather worse after he has said them
than before;-for other purposes better.
For my own part, there is not a way,
either moral or mechanical, under Heaven,
that I could think of, which I have not taken
with myself in this case; sometimes by
addressing myself directly to the soul herself, and arguing the point over and over
again with her, upon the extent of her own
faculties.
-I never could make them an inch the
wider.
Then by changing my system, and trying what could be made of it upon the body,
by temperance, soberness, and chastity
These are good, quoth I, in themselves,



OF TRISTRAM SHANDY.


259


they are good, absolutely;-they are good,
relatively; -they are good for health,they are good for happiness in this world,they are good for happiness in the next.
In short, they are good for every thing
but the thing wanted; and there they are
good for nothing, but to leave the soul just
as Heaven made it. As for the theological
virtues of Faith and Hope, they give it
courage; but then, that snivelling virtue
of Meekness (as my father would always
call it) takes it quite away again, so you
are exactly where you started.
Now, in all common and ordinary cases,
there is nothing which I have found to answer so well as this.Certainly, if there is any dependence
upon Logic, and that I am not blinded by
self-love, there must be something of true
genius about me, merely upon this symptom
of it, That I do not know what Envy is:
for rnever do I hit upon any invention or device which tendeth to the furtherance of
good writing, but I instantly make it public; willing that all mankind should write
as well as myself:
-Which they certainly will, when they
think as little.
CHAP. XIII.
Now, in ordinary cases, that is, when I
am only stupid, and the thoughts rise heavily
and pass gummous through my pen,Or that I am got, I know not how, into
a cold unmetaphorical vein of infamous
writing, and cannot take a plumb-lift out-of
it for my soul; so must be obliged to go on
writing like a Dutch commentator to the
end of the chapter, unless something be
done,I never stand conferring with pen and
ink one moment; for if a pinch of snuff, or
a stride or two across the room, will not do
the business for me,-I take a razor at once;
and having tried the edge of it upon the
palm of my hand, without further ceremony,
except that of first lathering my beard, I
shave it off; taking care only, if I do leave
a hair, that it be not a grey one; this done,
I change my shirt, put on a better coat,send for my last wig,-put my topaz-ring
upon my finger; and, in a word, dress my

self from one end to the other of me, after
my best fashion.
Now the Devil in hell must be in it, if
this does not do: for, consider, Sir, as every
man chooses to be present at the shaving
of his own beard (though there is no rule
without an exception), and unavoidably sits'
over-against himself the whole time it is
doing, in case he has a hand in it, —the
Situation, like all others, has notions of her
own to put into the brain.
I maintain it, the conceits of a roughbearded man are seven years more terse
and juvenile for one single operation, and
if they did not run a risk of being quite
shaved away, might be carried up, by continual shavings, to the highest pitch of sublimity.-Iow Homer could write with sc
long a beard, I don't know; -and as it
makes against, my hypothesis, I as little
care:-but let us return to the Toilet.
Ludovicus Sorbonensis makes this entirely an affair of the body (ETW7EPK 7rpais)
as he calls it,-but he is deceived: the soul
and body are joint-sharers in every thing
they get: a man cannot dress, but his ideas
get cloth'd at the same time: and if he
dresses like a gentleman, every one of
them stands presented to his imagination,
genteelized along with him;-so that he
has nothing to do but take his pen, and
write like himself.
For this cause, when your Honors ana
Reverences would know whether I write
clean, and fit to be read, you will be able
to judge full as well by looking into my
laundress's bill, as my book: there was
one single month, in which I can make it
appear, that I dirtied one-and-thirty shirts
with clean writing; and after all, was more
abused, cursed, criticis'd, and confounded,
and had more mystic heads shaken at me,
for what I had wrote in that one month, than
in all the other months of that year put together.
But their Honors and Reverences had
not seen my bills.
CHAP. XIV.
As I never had any intention of oegml
ning the Digression I am making all this
preparat':i for, till I come to the 15lb




260


LIFE AND OPINIONS


chapter,-I have this chapter to put to
whatever use I think proper.-I have twenty
this moment ready for it.-I could write
my chapter of Button-holes in it,Or my chapter of Pishes, which should
follow them,Or my chapter of Knots, in case their
Reverences have done with them:-they
might lead me into mischief. The safest
way is, to follow the track of the learned,
and raise objections against what I have
been writing, though I declare beforehand,
I know no more than my heels how to answer them.
And first, it may be said, there is a pelting kind of Thersitical satire, as black as
the very ink'tis wrote with-(and by the
bye, whoever says so, is indebted to the
Muster-master General of the Grecian army,
for suffering the name of so ugly and foulmouth'd a man as Thersites to continue
upon his roll,-for it has furnish'd him with
an epithet)-in these productions, he will
urge, all the personal washings and scrubbings upon earth do a sinking genius no
sort of good,-but just the contrary, inasmuch as the dirtier the fellow is, the better
generally he succeeds in it.
To this I have no other answer,-at least
ready,-but that the Archbishop of Benevento wrote his nasty Romance of the Galatea, as all the world knows, in a purple
coat, waistcoat, and purple pair of breeches;
and that the penance set him of writing a
commentary upon the book of the Revelations, as severe as it was look'd upon by one
part of the world, was far from being deem'd
so by the other, upon the single account of
that Investment.
Another objection to all this remedy, is
its want of universality; forasmuch as the
shaving part of it, upon which so much
stress is laid, by an unalterable law of nature excludes one half of the species entirely from its use,-all I can say, is, that
female writers, whether of England, or of
France, must e'en go without it.
As for the Spanish ladies,-I am in no
sort of distress.
CHAP XV.
THE-fifteenth chapter is come at last;
and brings nothing with it but a sad signa



ture of " How our pleasures slip from under
"us in this world!'
For in talking of my Digression, —I declare before Heaven, I have made it! What
a strange creature is mortal man! said she.
-'Tis very true, said I; —but'twere
better to get all these things out of ou
heads, and return to my uncle Toby.


i
I
l




CHAP. XVI.


WHEN my uncle Toby and the Corporal
had marched down to the bottom of the
avenue, they recollected their business lay
the other way; so they faced about, and
marched up straight.to Mrs. Wadman's
door.
I warrant your Honor, said the Corporal,
touching his Montero-cap with his hand as
he passed him, in order to give a knock at
the door.-My uncle Toby, contrary to his
invariable way of treating his faithful servant, said nothing good or bad: the truth
was, he had not altogether marshall'd his
ideas; he wish'd for another conference,
and, as the Corporal was mounting up the
three steps before the door, he hem'd twice;
a portion of my uncle Toby's most modest
spirits fled, at each expulsion, towards the
Corporal; he stood with the rapper of the
door suspended for a full minute in his-hand,
he scarce knew why. Bridget stood perdue
within, with her finger and her thumb upon
the latch, benumb'd with expectation; and
Mrs. Wadman, with an eye ready to be deflowered again, sat breathless behind the
window-curtain of her bed-chamber, watching their approach.
— Trim! said my uncle Toby;-but, as
he articulated the word, the minute expired,
and Trim let fall the rapper.
My uncle Toby, perceiving that all hopes
of a conference were knock'd on the head
by it, whistled Lillibullero.


1r


CHAP. XVII.
As Mrs. Bridget's finger and thumb were
upon the latch, the Corporal did not knock
as often as perchance your Honor's taylor.




OF TRISTRAM SHANDY.


261'


-I might have taken my example something nearer home; for I owe mine some
five-and-twenty pounds at least, and wonder
at the man's patience.
-But this is nothing at all to the world:
only'tis a cursed thing to be in debt; and
there seems to be a fatality in the exchequers of some poor princes, particularly
those of our house, which no economy can
bind down in irons. For my own part, I'm
persuaded there is not any one prince, prelate, pope, or potentate, great or small, upon
earth, more desirous in his heart of keeping
straight with the world than I am,-or who
takes more likely means for it. I never
give above half a guinea,-nor walk with
boots,-nor cheapen toothpicks, nor lay out
a shilling upon a band-box, the year round;
and, for the six months I'm in the country,
I'm upon so small a scale, that with all the
good temper in the world, I outdo Rousseau
a bar-length!-for I keep neither man nor
boy, nor horse, nor cow, nor dog, nor cat,
nor any thing that can eat or drink, except
a thin poor piece of a vestal (to keep my
fire in) and who has generally as bad an
appetite as myself:-'but, if you think this
makes a philosopher of me,-I would not,
my good people, give a rush for your jidgments.
True philosophy;-but there is no treatng the subject whilst my uncle is whistling
Lillibullero.
-Let us go into the house.
CHAP. XVIII.
CHAP. XIX.


CIAP. XX.
*  *  *  *  *'s  *
*  *  *  *  *:  *  4


*
*


*  *
*
*  *
*  *


*       *
*       *
*       *
*


*
*  *  ok  *
*  *  *  *


-You shall see tl.e very place, Madam,
said my uncle Toby.
Mrs. Wadman blush'd,-look'd towards
the door, -turn'd pale,'-blush'd slightly
again, -recover'd her natural color,blush'd worse than ever; which, for the
sake of the unlearned reader, I translate
thus:
" L-d! I cannot look at it!
" What would the world say if Ilook'd at it?
" I should drop down if I look'd at it 
"I wish I could look at it.
" There can be no sin in looking at it
" I will look at it."
Whilst all this was running through
Mrs. Wadman's imagination, my uncle
Toby had risen from the sofa, and got to
the other side of the parlor-door, to give
Trim an order about it in the passage —
*    *     *    *    *    *    *     S
*    *     *    -   I believe it is in the
garret, said my uncle Toby.-I saw it there,
an' please your Honor, this morning, answered Trim.-Then prithee step directly
for it, Trim, said my uncle Toby, and bring
it into the parlor.
The Corporal did not approve of the orders; but most cheerfully obeyed them.
The first was not an act of his will;-the
second was; so he put'on his Montero-cap,
and went as fast as his lame knee would
let him. My uncle Toby returned into the
parlor, and sat himself down again upor
the sofa.
-You shall lay your finger upon the
place, said my uncle Toby. —I will not
touch it, however, quoth Mrs. Wadman to
herself.
This requires a second translation:- it
shows what little knowledge is got by mere
words;-we must go up to the first springs.
Now, in order to clear up the mist which
hangs upon these three pages, I must ein
deavor to be as clear as possiblb myself,




262


LIFE AND OPINIONS


Rub your hands thrice across your foreneads,-blow  your noses, -cleanse your
emnunctories,-sneeze, my good. people;God bless you.
Now give me all the help you can.
CHAP. XXI.
As there are fifty different ends (counting
a.1 ends in,-as well civil as religious) for
which a woman takes a husband, she first
sets about and carefully weighs, then separates and distinguishes, in her mind, which
of all that number of ends is hers; then, by
discourse, inquiry, argumentation, and inference, she investigates and finds out whether she has got hold of the right one;and, if she has,-then, by pulling it gently
this way and that way, she further forms
a judgment, whether it will not break in
the -drawing.
The imagery under which Slawkenbergius impresses this upon his reader's fancy,
in the beginning of his third Decade, is so
ludicrous, that the honor I bear the sex
will not suffer me to quote it,-otherwise,
it is not destitute of humor.
"She first, saith Slawkenbergius, stops
the ass; and holding his halter in her left
hand (lest he should get away) she thrusts
her right hand into the very bottom of his
pannier, to search for it.-For what.You'll not know the sooner, quoth Slawkenbergius, for interrupting me.
"I have nothing, good Lady, but empty
bottles," says the ass.
— " I'm loaded with tripes," says the
second.
-And thou art little better, quoth she to
the third; for nothing is there in thy pannlers but trunk-hose and pantofles;-and so
to the fourth and fifth, going on, one by one,
through the whole string, till coming to the
ass whicn carries it, she turns the pannier
lupside-down, looks at it, —considers it,samples it,-measures it,-stretches it,wets it, —dries it,-then takes her teeth
wHth to the warp and weft of it.
Of what for the love of Christ'


I am determined answered Slawkenbergius, that all the powers upon earth shai,
I.    4
never wring that secret from my breast
CHAP. XXII.
WE live in a world. beset on all sides
with mysteries and riddles,-and. so'tis no
Matter;-else it seems strange, that Nature,
who makes every thing so well to'answer
its destination', and seldom or - never errs,
unless for pastime, in giving such forms and
aptitudes to whatever passes through her
hands, that, whether she desians for the
plow, the caravan, the cart,-or whatever
other creature she models, be it but an ass's
foal, you are sure to have the thing you
wanted; and yet, at the same time, shoule
so eternally bungle it as she does, in making
so simple a thing as a married man.
Whether it is in the choice of the cla'
y
-or that it is frequently spoil'd in the baking
(by an excess of which a husband may turn
out too crusty, you know, on one band,-or
not enough so, through defect of beat, on
the other;)-or whether this great artificer
is not so attentive to thelittle Platonic exigencies of that  art of the species, for
whose use she is fabricating this'; or that
her Ladyship sometimes scarce knows what
sort of a husband will do,-I know not.: we
will discourse about it after supper.
It is enough, that neither the observation
itself, nor the reasoning upon it, are at all
to the purpose-but ratberagainst it; since,
with regard to my uncle Toby's fitness for
the marriage state, nothing was ever better:
she had formed him of the best and kindliest
clay, had temper'd it with her own milk,
and breathed into it the sweetest spirit;she had made him all gentle, generous, and
humane;-she had filled his heart with
trust and confidence, and disposed every
passage which led to it for the-communica
tion of the tenderest offices; she had, more..
over, considered the other causes for which
matrimony was ordained
And, accordingly,


— I am determined answered Slawkenbergius, that all the powers upon earth shal,
never wring that secret from my breast
CHAP. XXII.
WE live in a world beset on all sides
with mysteries and riddles, —and so'tis no
matter;-else it seems strange, that Nature,
who makes every thing so well to answer
its destination, and seldom or never errs,
unless for pastime, in giving such forms and
aptitudes to whatever passes through her
hands, that, whether she designs for the
plow, the caravan, the cart,-or whatever
other creature she models, be it but an ass's
foal, you are sure to have the thing you
wanted; and yet, at the same time, should
so eternally bungle it as she does, in making
so simple a thing as a married man.
Whether it is in the choice of the clay
-or that it is frequently spoil'd in the baking
(by an excess of which a husband may turn
out too crusty, you know, on one hand,-or
not enough so, through defect of heat, on
the other;)-or whether this great artificer
is not so attentive to the little Platonic exigencies of that part of the species, for
whose use she is fabricating this;-or that
her Ladyship sometimes scarce knows what
sort of a husband will do,-I know not: we
will discourse about it after supper.
It is enough, that neither the observation
itself, nor the reasoning upon it, are at all
to the purpose-but rather against it; since,
with regard to my uncle Toby's fitness for
the marriage state, nothing was ever better:
she had formed him of the best and kindliest
clay, had temper'd it with her own milk,
and breathed into it the sweetest spirit;she had made him all gentle, generous, and
humane; —she had filled his heart with
trust and confidence, and disposed every
passage which led to it for the commulication of the tenderest offices; she -had, more.
over, considered the other causes for which
matrimony was ordainedAnd, accordingly,  *    *    *    *
*    *    *    *        e *     *    +
*    *    *    *




OF TRISTRAM SHANDY.


263


The Donation was not defeated by my,uncle Toby's wound.
Now, this last article was somewhat apocryphal; and the Devil, who is the great disturber of our faiths in this world, had raised
scruples in Mrs. Wadman's brain about it;
and, like a true Devil as he was, had done
his own work at the same time, by turning
my uncle Toby's virtue thereupon into nothing but empty bottles, tripes, trunk-hose,
and pantofles.
CHAP. XXIII.
MRS. Bridget had pawn'd all the little
stock of honor a poor chambermaid wasworth
in the world, that she would get to the bottom of the affair in'ten days; and it was
built upon one of the most concessible postulata in nature; namely, that, whilst my uncle
Toby was making love to her mistress, the
Corporal could find nothing better to do
than to -make love to her;-"And I'll let
him, as much as he will," said Bridget, " to
g'et it out of him."
Friendship has two garments, an outer
and an under one. Bridget was serving her
mistress's interests in the one,-and doing
the thing which most pleased herself in the
other; so had as many stakes depending
upon my uncle Toby's wound as the Devil
himself.-Mrs. Wadman had but one,-and
as it possibly might be her last (without discouraging Mrs. Bridget, or discrediting her
talents) was determined to play her cards
herself.
She wanted not encouragement: a child
might have look'd into his hand;-there was
such a plainness and simplicity in his playing out what trumps he had,-with such an
unmistrusting ignorance of the ten-ace,and so naked and defenceless did he sit upon
the same sofa with Widow Wadman, that a
generous heart would have wept to have
won the game of him
Let us drop the metaphor.
CHAP. XXIV.
-AND the story too, if you please; for
though I have all along been hastening to

wards this part of it, with so much earnest
desire, as well knowing it to be the choicest
morsel of what I had to offer -to the world,
yet now that I am got to it, any one is welcome to take my pen and go on with the
story for me that will,-I see the difficulties
of the descriptions I am going to give,-and
feel my want of powers.
It is one comfort at least to me, that 
lost some fourscore ounces of blood this week
in a most uncritical fever which attacked
me at the beginning of this chapter: so that
I have, still some hopes remaining it may be
more in the serous or globular parts of the
blood, than in the subtle aura of the brain:
— be it which it will,-an Invocation can
do no hurt;-and I leave the affair entirely
to the invoked, to inspire or to inject me
according as he sees good.
THE INVOCATION.'Gentle Spirit of sweetest humor, who ers,
did sit upon the easy pen of my beloved Cervantes! Thou who glided'st daily through
his lattice,'and turned'st the twilight of his
prison into noon-day brightness by thy presence,-tinged'st his little urn of water with
heaven-sent nectar, and, all the time he
wrote of Sancho and his master, didst cast
thy mystic mantle o'er his'wither'd stump,*
and wide extended it to all the evils of his
life,-Turn in hither, I beseech thee!-behold
these breeches!-they are all I have in the
world;-that piteous rent was given them
at Lyons.
My shirts! see what a deadly schism has
happen'd amongst'em;-for thelaps are in
Lombardy, and the rest of'em here.-I never
had but six, and a cunning gipsy of a laundress at Milan cut me off the fore-laps of
five.-To do her justice, she did it with
some consideration,-for I was returning
out of Italy.
And yet, notwithstanding all this, and a
pistol tinder-box, which was, moreover,
filch'd from me at Sienna, and twice that I
paid five Pauls for two hard eggs, once at
Raddicofini, and a second time at Capua,-1
do not think a journey through France and
Italy, provided a man keeps his temper al'
the way, so bad a thing as some people


* Ile lost his hand at the'battle of Lenanto.




264


LIFE AND OPINIONS


would make you believe; there must be
iups and downs, or how the deuce, should we
get into valleys where Nature spreads so
many tables of entertainment-?-'Tis nonsense to imagine they will lend you their
voitures to be shaken to pieces for nothing;
and, unless you pay twelve sous for greasing your wheels, how should the poor peasant get butter to his bread?-We really
expect too much,-and, for the livre or two
above par for your supper and bed, at the
most they are but one shilling and ninepence halfpenny,-who would embroil their
philosophy for it! for Heaven's and for your
own sake, pay it,-pay it with both hands
open, rather than leave Disappointment
sitting drooping upon the eyes of your fair
nostess and her damsels in the gateway, at
vour departure;-and besides, my dear Sir,
you get a sisterly kiss of each of'em, worth
a pound:-at least I did;-For my uncle Toby's amours running
all the way in my head, they had the same
effect upon me as if they had been my own.
-I was in the most perfect state of bounty
and good-will, and felt the kindliest harmony vibrating within me; with every oscillation of the chaise alike; so that, whether
the roads were rough or smooth, it made
no difference; every thing I saw, or had to
do with, touch'd upon some secret spring,
either of sentiment or rapture.
-They were the sweetest notes I ever
heard; and I instantly let down the foreglass to hear them more distinctly.-'Tis
Maria, said the postilion, observing I was
listening. Poor Maria, continued he (leaning his body on one side to let me see her,
for'he was in a line betwixt us) is sitting
upon a bank, playing her vespers upon her
pipe, with her little goat beside her.
The young fellow utter'd this with an accent and a look so perfectly in tune to a
feeling heart, that I instantly made a vow
I would give him a four-and-twenty sous
piece when I got to Moulins.
— And who is poor Maria? said I.
—.The love and pity of all the villages
around us, said the postilion: it is but three
years ago that the sun did not shine upon
so fair, so quick-witted and amiable la maid;
and better fate did Maria deserve than to
have her bans forbid by the intrigues of
the curate of the parish who publish'd them.


Ie was going on, when Maria, who had
made a short pause, put the pipe to her
mouth and began the air again;-they were
the same notes,-yet were ten times sweeter.
-It is the evening service to the Virgin,
said the young man;-but who has taught
her to play it, or how she came by her pipe,
no one knows: we think that Heaven has
assisted her in both; for, ever since site has
been unsettled in her mind, it seems her
only consolation; she has never once had
the pipe out of her hand, but plays that
service upon it almost day and night.
The postilion delivered this with so much
discretion and natural eloquence, that I
could not help deciphering something in his
face above his condition, and should have
sifted out his history, had not poor Maria's
taken such full possession of me.
We had got up by this time almost to the
bank where Maria was sitting: she was in
a thin white jacket, with her hair, all but
two tresses, drawn' up into a silk net, with
a few olive-leaves twisted a little fantastically on one side;-she was beautiful;
and, if ever I felt the full force of an honest
heart-ache, it was the moment I saw her.
-God help her! poor damsel! above a
hundred masses, said the postilion, have
been said, in the several parish-churches
and convents around, for her,-but without
effect; we have still hopes, as she is sensible for short intervals, that the Virgin at
last will restore her to herself; but her
parents, who know her best, are hopeless
upon that score, and think her senses are
lost for ever.
As the postilion spoke this, Maria made
a cadence so melancholy, so tender and
querulous, that I sprung out of the chaise
to help her, and found myself sitting betwixt
her and her goat before I relapsed from my
enthusiasm.
Maria look'd wistfully for some time at
me, and then at her goat,-and then at me,
-and then at her goat again, and so on,
alternately.
-Well, Maria, said I softly, what resemblance do you find?
I do entreat the candid reader to believe
me, that it was from the humblest conviction of what a beast man is,-that I asked
the question; and that I would not have let
fall an unseasonable pleasantry in the ven



OF TRISTRAM SHANDY.


265


erable presence of Misery, to be entitled to
all the wit that ever Rabelais scatter'd,
and yet I own my heart smote me, and that
I so smarted at the very idea of it, that I
swore I would set up for Wisdom, and utter
grave sentences the rest of my days;-and
never,-never attempt again to commit
mirth with man, woman, or child, the longest
day I had to live.
As for writing nonsense to them,-I believe there was a reserve;-but that I leave
to the world.
Adieu, Maria!-adieu, poor hapless damsel!-some time, but not now, I may hear
thy sorrows from thy own lips,-but I was
deceived; for that moment she took her pipe
and told me such a tale of woe with it, that
I rose up, and with broken and irregular
steps walk'd softly to my chaise.
-What an excellent inn at Moulins!


CHAP. XXV.
WHEN we have got to the end of this
chapter (but not before) we must all turn
oack to the two blank chapters; on the account of which my honor has lain bleeding
this half hour,-I stop it, by pulling off one
of my yllow slippers, and throwing it, with
all my violence, to the opposite side of my
room, with a declaration at the heel of it,That whatever resemblance it may bear
to half the chapters which are written in
the world, or, for aught I know, may be now
writing in it,-that it was as casual as the
foam of Zeuxis his horse; besides, I look
upon a chapter which has only nothing in
it, with respect; and considering what worse
things there are in the world, - that it is
no way a proper subject for satire.
-Why then was it left so? And here,
without staying for my reply, shall I be
called as many blockheads, numskulls,
doddypoles, dunderheads, ninnyhammers,
goosecaps, joltheads, nincompoops, and sh-t
-a-beds, —and other unsavory appellations
as ever the cake-bakers of Lerne cast in the
teeth of King Gargantua's shepherds;-and
I'll let them do it, as Bridget said, as much
as they please: for how was it possible they
should foresee the necessity I was under of
21


writing the 25th chapter of my book before
the 18th 1 &c.
-So I don't take it amiss.-All I wish is,
That it may be a lesson to the world, " to
"let people tell their stories their own way."
The Eighteenth Chapter.
As Mrs. Bridget opened the door before
the Corporal had well given the rap, the
interval betwixt that and my uncle Toby's
introduction into the parlor was so short,
that Mrs. Wadman had but just time to
get from behind the curtain,-lay a Bible
upon the table, and advance a step or two
towards the door to receive him.
My uncle Toby saluted Mrs. Wadman,
after the manner in which women were
saluted by men in the year of our Lord God
one thousand seven hundred and thirteen;
-then facing about, he march'd up abreast
with her to the sofa, and in three plain
words, though not before he was sat down,
-nor after he was sat down,-but as he
was sitting down, told her, "he was in
love;" so that my uncle Toby strained himself more in the declaration than he needed.
Mrs. Wadman naturally looked down
upon a slit she had been darning up in her
apron, in expectation every moment that
my uncle Toby would go on; but having
no talents for amplification, and love, moreover, of all others, being a subject of which
he was the least a master,-when he had
told Mrs. Wadman once that he loved her,
he let it alone, and left the matter to work
after its own way.
My father was always in raptures with
this system of my uncle Toby's, as he falsely
called it, and would often say, That could
his brother Toby to his process have added
but a pipe of tobacco,-he had wherewitha.
to have found his way, if there was faith in
a Spanish proverb, towards the hearts of
half the women upon the globe.
My uncle Toby never understood what
my father meant: nor will I presume to
extract more from it than a condemnation of an error-which the bulk of the world
lie under;-but the French, every one of'em to a man, who believe in it almost as'23






266                        LIFE AND
much as the real presence, " That talking
" of love is making it."
-I would as soon set about making a
black-pudding by the same receipt.
Let us go on:-Mrs. Wadman sat in expectation my uncle Toby would do so, to
almost the first pulsation of that minute,
wherein silence on one side or the other
generally becomes indecent: so edging herself a little more towards him, and raising
up her eyes, sub-blushing, as she did it,she took up the gauntlet,-or the discourse
(if you like it the better) and communed
with my uncle Toby thusThe cares and disquietudes of the marriage-state, quoth Mrs. Wadman, are very
great.-I suppose so, said my uncle Toby.
-And therefore when a person, continued
Mrs. Wadman, is so much at his ease as
you are,-so happy, Captain Shandy, in
yourself, your friends, and your amusements,-I wonder what reasons can incline
you to the state!
-They are written, quoth my uncle Toby,
in the Common-Prayer Book.
Thus far my uncle Toby went on warily,
and kept within his depth, leaving Mrs.
Wadman to sail upon the gulf as she
pleased.
As for children, said Mrs. Wadman,
though a principal end, perhaps, of the institution, and the natural wish, I suppose,
of every parent,-yet do not we all find,
they are certain sorrows, and very uncertain
comforts?-and what is there, dear Sir,
to pay for the heart-aches! - what compensation for the many tender and disquieting apprehensions of a suffering and defenceless mother, who brings them into
life?-I declare, said my uncle Toby, smit
with pity, I know of none; unless it be the
pleasure which it has pleased God-A fiddle-stick! quoth she.
Chapter the Nineteenth.
Now there are such an infinitude of notes,
tunes, cants, chants, airs, looks, and accents
with which the word fiddlestick may be
pronounced in all such cases as this, every
~,ne ofi'em inipressing a sense and meaning


OPINIONS
as different from the other as dirt hoIn
cleanliness,-that casuists (for it is an affair
of conscience upon that score) reckon up
no less than fourteen thousand in which
you may do either right or wrong.
Mrs. Wadman hit upon the fiddlestick
which summoned up all my uncle Toby's
modest blood into his cheeks;-so feeling
within himself that he had somehow or other
got beyond his depth, he stopped short; and
without entering further either into the
pains or pleasures of matrimony, he laid
his hand upon his heart, and made an offer
to take them as they were, and share them
along with her.
When my uncle Toby had said this, he
did not care to say it again; so casting his
eye upon the Bible, which Mrs. Wadman
had laid upon the table, he took it up; and
popping, dear soul! upon a passage in it,
of all others the most interesting to him,which was the siege of Jericho,-he set
himself to read it over,-leaving his proposal of marriage, as he had done his declaration of love, to work with her after its
own way. Now it wrought neither as an
astringent nor a loosener; nor like opium,
nor bark, nor mercury, nor buckthorn, nor
any one drug which Nature had bestowed
upon the world;-in short, it work'd not at
all in her; and the cause of that was, that
there was something working there before.
-Babbler that I am! I have anticipated
what it was a dozen times; but there is
fire still in the subject.-Allons!


CHAP. XXVI.


IT is natural for a perfect stranger who
is going from London to Edinburgh, to inquire, before he sets out, how many miles
to York? which is about the half-way:-nor
does any body wonder, if he goes on and
asks about the corporation, &c.
It was just as natural for Mrs. Wadman,
whose first husband was all his time afflicted with a sciatica, to wish to know how
far from the hip to the groin; and how far
she was likely to suffer more or less in her
feelings, in the one case than in the other.
She ha.d accordingly read Drake's Anato




OF TRISTR. I SHANDY.


267


my from one end to the other. She had
peep'd into Wharton upon the Brain, and
borrowed *Graaf upon the Bones and Muscles; but could make nothing of it.
She had reason'd likewise from her own
powers,-laid down theorems,-drawn consequences, and come to no conclusion.
To clear up all, she had twice asked
Doctor Slop, " If poor Captain Shandy was
ever likely to recover of his wound -"
-He is recovered, Doctor Slop would
say.What, quite 3.
-Quite, Madam.
-But what do you mean by a recovery?
Mrs. Wadman would say.
Doctor Slop was the worst man alive at
definitions; and so Mrs. Wadman could
get no knowledge. In short, there, was no
way to extract it, but from my uncle Toby
himself.
There is an accent of humanity in an
inquiry of this kind, which lulls Suspicion
to rest;-and I am half persuaded the serpent got pretty near it, in his discourse
with Eve; for the. propensity in the sex to
be deceived could not be so great, that she
should have boldness to hold chat with the
Devil without it.-But there is an accent
of humanity:-how shall I describe it -'tis an accent which covers the part with
a garment, and gives the inquirer a right
to be as particular with it as your body-surgeon.
"-Was it without remission?
"-Was it more tolerable in bed?
" -Could he lie on both sides alike with it?
" -Was he able to mount a horse?
"-Was motion bad for it?" et ccetera,
were so tenderly spoke to, and so directed
towards my uncle Toby's heart, that every
item of them sung ten times deeper into it
than the evils themselves;-but when Mrs.
Wadman went round about by Namur to
get at my uncle Toby's groin; and engaged
him t; attack the point of the advanced
counterscarp, and pele mele with the Dutch,
to take the counter-guard of St. Roch
sword-in-hand,-and then, with tender notes


I laying upon his ear, led him, all bleeding,
by the hand out of the trench, wiping her
eye as he was carried to his tent,-Heaven!
Earth! Sea!-all was lifted up,-the springs
of nature rose above their levels,-an angel
of mercy sat beside him on the sofa,-his
heart glow'd with fire;-and had he been
worth a thousand, he had lost every heart
of them to Mrs. Wadman.
-And whereabouts, dear Sir, quoth Mr.
Wadman, a little categorically, did you receive this sad blow?-In asking this question, Mrs. Wadman gave a slight glance
towards the waistband of my uncle Toby's
red plush breeches, expecting naturally, as
the shortest reply to it, that my uncle Toby
would lay his fore-finger upon the place.It fell out otherwise,-for my uncle Toby
having got his wound before the gate of St
Nicholas, in one of the traverses of the
trench opposite to the salient angle of the
demi-bastion of St. Roch, he could at any
time stick a pin upon the identical spot of
ground where he was standing when the
stone struck him. This struck instantly
upon my uncle Toby's sensorium;-and
with it, struck his large map of the town
and citadel of Namur, and its environs,
which he had purchased and pasted down
upon a board, by the Corporal's aid, during
his long illness:-it had lain, with other
military lumber, in the garret ever since;
and accordingly the Corporal was detached
to the garret to fetch it,
My uncle Toby. measured off thirty
toises, with Mrs. Wadman's scissars, from
the returning angle before the gate of
St. Nicholas; and with such a virgin modesty laid her finger upon the place, that
the Goddess of Decency, if then in being,
-if not,'twas her shade,-shook her head,
and with a finger wavering across her eyes,
forbade her to explain the mistake.
Unhappy Mrs. Wadman!
-For nothing can make this chapter go
off with spirit but an apostrophe to thee
-but my heart tells me, that in such a
crisis an apostrophe is but an insult In disguise; and ere I would offer one to a woman
in distress,-let the chapter go to the
Devil; provided any damn'd critic in keeping will be but at the trouble to take it
with him.


* This must be a mistake in Mr. Shandy; for Graaf
wrote upon the pancreatic juice, and the pai s of
genel ation.




268


LIFE AND OPINIONS


CHAP. XXVII.
MY uncle Toby's map is carried down
into the kitchen.
CHAP. XXVIII.
-AND here is the Maes,-and this is the
Sambre, said the Corporal, pointing with
his right hand extended a little towards the
map, and his left upon Mrs. Bridget's shoulder,-but not the shoulder next him;-and
this, said he, is the town of Namur,-and
this the citadel,-and there lay the French,
and here lay his Honor and myself;-and
in this cursed trench, Mrs. Bridget, quoth
the Corporal, taking her by the hand, did
he receive the wound which crush'd him so
miserably here.-In pronouncing which, he
slightly press'd the back of her hand towards the part he felt for,-and let it fall.
-We thought, Mr. Trim, it had been
more in the middle, said Mrs. Bridget.
-That would have undone us for ever,
said the Corporal.
-And left my poor mistress undone too,
said Bridget.
The Corporal made no reply to the repartee, but by giving Mrs. Bridget a kiss.
-Come, come, said Bridget, holding the
palm of her left hand parallel to the plane
of the horizon, and sliding the fingers of
the other over it, in a way which could
not have been done, had there been the
least wart or protuberance,'-Tis every syllable of it false, cried' the Corporal, before
she had half finished the sentence.
-I know it to be a fact, said Bridget,
from credible witnesses.
-Upon my honor, said the Corporal,
laying his hand upon his heart, and blushing
as he spoke, with honest resentment,-'tis
a story, Mrs. Bridget, as false as Hell,Not, said Bridget, interrupting him, that
either I or my mistress care a halfpenny
about it, whether it is so or no;-only that
when one is married, one would choose to
have such a thing by one at least,It was somewhat unfortunate for Mrs.
Bridget, that she had begun the attack with
her manual exercise; for the Corporal inantly       *    *    *    *    *    *
*    *     *     *    *    *    * e
*    *     *     e    *    *    *    *


CHAP. XXIX.
It was like the momentary contest in the
moist eyelids of an April morning, "Wheth" er Bridget should laugh or cry."
She snatch'd up a rolling-pin,-'twas ten
to one she had laugh'd.She laid it down,-she cried: and had
one single tear of'em but tasted of bitterness, full sorrowful would the Corporal's
heart have been that he had used the argument; but the Corporal understood the sex,
a quart major to a terce at least, better than
my uncle Toby, and accordingly he assailed
Mrs. Bridget after this manner:I know, Mrs. Bridget, said the Corporal,
giving her a most respectful kiss, that thou
art good and modest by nature; and art
withal so generous a girl in thyself, that, if
I know thee rightly, thou would'st not wound
an insect, much less the honor of so gallant
and worthy a soul as my master, wast thou
sure to be made a Countess of; but thou hast
been set on, and deluded, dear Bridget, as
is often a woman's case, " to please others
"more than themselves    "
Bridget's eyes poured down at the sensations the Corporal excited.
Tell me, -tell me, then, my dear
Bridget, continued the Corporal, taking hold
of her hand, which hung down dead by her
side, - and giving a second kiss, - whose
suspicion has misled thee l
Bridget sobb'd a sob or two,-then open'd
her eyes;-the Corporal wiped'em with
the bottom of her apron;-she then open'd
her heart and told him all.
CHAP. XXX.
MY uncle Toby and the Corporal had
gone on separately with their operations
the greatest part of the campaign, and as
effectually cut off from all communication
of what either the one or the other had been
doing, as if they had been separated from
each other by the Maes or the Sambre.
My uncle Toby, on his side, hadl presented
himself every afternoon in his red and silver, and blue and gold, alternately, and sustained an infinity of' attacks in them, without knowing them to be attacks; and so had
nothing to communicate.




OF TRISTRAM SHANDY.


269


the Corporal, on his side, in taking
Bridget, by it gain'd considerable advantages,-and consequently had much to communicate;-but what were the advantages,
-as well as what was the manner by which
he had seiz'd them, required so nice an historian, that the Corporal durst not venture
upon it; and, as sensible as he was of glory,
would rather have been contented to have
gone bare-headed and without laurels for
ever, than torture his master's modesty for
a single moment.
-Best of honest and gallant servants!But I have apostrophiz'd thee, Trim, once
before; -and could I apotheosize thee also
(that is to say) with good company,-I would
do it' without ceremony in the very next
page.
CHAP. XXXI.
Now my uncle Toby had one evening
laid down his pipe upon the table, and was
counting over to himself, upon his fingers'
ends (beginning at his thumb) all Mrs.
Wadman's perfecti6ns, one by one; and'happening two or three times together,
either by omitting some, or counting others
twice over, to puzzle himself sadly before
he could get beyond his middle-finger,Prithee, Trim, said he, taking up his pipe
again, bring me a pen and ink. - Trim
brought paper also.
-Take a full sheet, Trim! said my uncle
Toby, making a sign with his pipe at the
same time to take a chair and sit down
close by him at the table. The Corporal
obeyed,-placed the paper directly before
him,-took a pen, and dipp'd it in the ink. 
-She has a thousand virtues, Trim! said
my uncle Toby.
-Am I to set them down,'an please
your Honor? quoth the Corporal.
-But they must be taken in their ranks,
replied my uncle Toby; for of them all,
Trim, that which wins me most, and which
is a security for all the rest, is the compassionate turn and singular humanity of her
character.-I protest, added my uncle Toby,
looking up, as he protested it, towards the
top of the ceiling,-that was I her brother,
Trim, a thousand-fold, she could not make


more constant or more tender inquiries
after my sufferings,-though now no more.
The Corporal made no reply to my uncle
Toby's protestation, but by a short cough:
-he dipp'd the pen a second time into the
inkhorn; and my uncle Toby, pointing with
the end of his pipe as close to the top of the
sheet at the left-hand corner of it as he could
get it,-the Corporal wrote down the word
HUMANITY -- -    thus.
-Prithee, Corporal, said my uncle Toby,
as soon as Trim had done it,-how often
does Mrs. Bridget inquire after the wound
on the capofthy knee, which thou received'st
at the battle of Landen?
-She never, an' please your Honor, inquires after it at all.
-That, Corporal, said my uncle Toby,
with all the triumph the goodness of his
nature would permit,-that shows the difference in the character of the mistress and
maid.-Had the fortune of war allotted the
same mischance to me, Mrs. Wadman would
have inquired into every circumstance relating to it a hundred times.-She would
have inquired, an' please your Honor, ten
times as often about your Honor's groin.The pain, Trim, is equally excruciating,and Compassion has as much to do with the
one as the other.
-God bless your Honor, cried the Corporal,-what has a woman's compassion to do
with a wound upon the cap of a man's knee?
Had your Honor's been shot into ten thousand splinters at the affair of Landen,
Mrs. Wadman would have troubled her
head as little about it as Bridget; because,
added the Corporal, lowering his voice, and
speaking very distinctly, as he assigned his
reason,"The knee is such a distance from the
"main body, - Whereas the groin, your
" Honor knows, is upon the very curtain of
"the place."
My uncle Toby gave a long whistle;-but
in a note which could scarce be heard across
the table.
The Corporal had advanced too far to retire;-in three words he told the rest.
My uncle Toby laid down his pipe as
gently upon the fender as if it had been
spun from the unravelling of a spider's web.
— Iet us go to my brother Fhandy's, said
he.




270


LIFE AND OPINIONS


CHAP. XXXII.
THERE will be just time, whilst my uncle
Toby and Trim are walking to my father's,
to inform vou that Mrs. Wadman had, some
moons before this, made a confidant of my
mother; and that Mrs. Bridget, who had the
burden of her own, as well as her mistress's
secret to carry, had got happily delivered of
both to Susannah, behind the garden-wall.
As for my mother, she saw nothing at all
in it, to make the least bustle about;-but
Susannah was sufficient by herself for all
the ends and purposes you could possibly
have, in exporting a family secret; for she
instantly imparted it by signs to Jonathan;
-and Jonathan by tokens to the cook, as
she was basting a loin of mutton; the cook
sold it with some kitchen-fat to the postilion
for a groat; who truck'd it with the dairymaid for something of about the same value;
-and though whispered in the hay-loft,
Fame caught the notes with her brazen
trumpet, and sounded them upon the housetop.-In a word, not an old woman in the
village, or five miles round, who did. not understand the difficulties of my uncle Toby's
siege, and what were the secret articles
which had delayed the surrender.
My father, whose way was to force every
event in nature into an hypothesis, by which
means, never man crucified Truth at the
rate he did,-had but just heard of the report as my uncle Toby set out; and catching
fire suddenly at the trespass done his brother
by it, was demonstrating to Yorick, notwithstanding my mother was sitting by,not only, "That the Devil was in women,
" and that the whole of the affair was lust;"
hut that every evil and disorder in the world,
of what kind or nature soever, from the first
fall of Adam, down to my uncle Toby's'(inclusive) was owing, one way or other, to the
same unruly appetite.
Yorick was just bringing my father's hypothesis to some temper, when my uncle'Toby entering the room with marks of infinite benevolence and forgiveness in his looks,
my father's eloquence rekindled against the
pass;on;-and as he was not very nice in
the choice of his words when he was wroth,
-as soon as my uncle Toby was seated by
the fire, and had filled his pipe, mv father
broke out in this manner:


CHAP. XXXIII.
-THAT provision should be made for continuing the race of so great, so exalted, and
godlike a being as man,-I'am far from denying;-but philosophy speaks freely of
every thing; and therefore I still think, and
do maintain it to be a pity, that it should be
done by means of a passion, which bends
down the faculties, and turns all the wisdom,
contemplations and operations of the soul
backwards;-a passion, my dear, continued
my father, addressing himself to my mother,
which couples and equals wise men with
fools, and makes us come out of our caverns
and hiding-places more like satyrs and fourfooted beasts than men.
I know it will be said, continued my father,
(availing himself of the Prolepsis) that, in
itself, and simply taken,-like hunger, or
thirst, or sleep,-'tis an affair neither good
nor bad, —nor shameful, nor otherwise.
Why then did the delicacy of Diogenes
and Plato so recalcitrate against it l and
wherefore, when we go about to make and
plant a man, do we put out the candle?
and for what reason is it, that all the parts
thereof, - the congredients,- the preparations, - the instruments, and whatever
serves thereto, are so held as to be conveyed to a cleanly mind by no language,
translation, or periphrasis whatever!
-The act of killing and destroying a
man, continued my father, raising his voice,
-and turning to my uncle Toby,-you see
is glorious,-and the weapons by which we
do it are honorable; —we march with them
upon our shoulders;-we strut with them
by our sides;-we gild them;-we carve
them;-we inlay them;-we enrich them;
-nay, if it be but a scoundrel cannon, we
cast an ornament upon the breech of it.
-My uncle Toby laid down his pipe te
intercede for a better epithet;-and Yorich
was rising up to batter the whole hypothesis
to pieces,When Obadiah broke into the middle of
the room with a complaint, which cried out
for an immediate hearing.
The case was this:My father, whether by ancient custom
of the manor, or as impropriator of the great
tythes, was obliged to keep a Bull for the
service of the parish; and Obadiah had led




OP TRISTRAM SHANDY.


271


nis cow upon a pop-visit to him one day or
other the preceding summer; —I say, one
nay or other, -because, as chance would
hlave it, it was the day on which he was
married to my father's house-maid;-so one
was a reckoning to the other. Therefore,
when Obadiah's wife was brought to bed,Obadiah thanked God.
Now, said Obadiah, I shall have a calf;
so Obadiah went daily to visit his; cow.
She'll calve on Monday,-or Tuesday, or
Wednesday at the farthest.
The cow did not calve; —no, she'll not
calve till next week;-the cow put it off
terribly,-till at the end of the sixth week,
Obadiah's suspicions (like a good man's) fell
upon the Bull.
Now the parish being very large, my
eather's Bull, to speak the truth of him,
was no way equal to the department; he
had, however, got himself, somehow or
other, thrust into employment,-and as he
went through the business with a grave
face, my father had a high opinion of him.
-Mc.st of the townsmen, an' please your


Worships, quoth Obadiah, believe that'tis
all the Bull's fault.
But may not a cow be barren? replied
my father, turning to Doctor Slop.
-It never happens, said Doctor Slop; but
the man's wife may have come before her
time, naturally enough.-Prithee, has the
child hair upon his headl added Doctor
Slop.
-It is as hairy as I am, said Obadiah.Obadiah had not been shaved for three
weeks.-Wheu - - u ---- u --—, cried
my father, beginning the sentence with an
exclamatory whistle;-and so, brother Toby,
this poor Bull of'mine, who is as good a
Bull as ever p-ss'd, and might have done
for Europa herself in purer times,-had he
but two legs less, might have been driven
into Doctors' Commons, and lost his character;-which to a Town-Bull, brother Toby,
is the very same thing as his life.
-L —d! said my mother, what is all this
story about?
A Cock and a Bull, said Yorick;-and
one of the best of its kind I ever heard.


END OF TRISTRAM SHANIJY








A


SENTIMENTAL JOURNEY
THROUGH


t RHE   oi- ier, said I, this matter better
in France.
-You have been in France? 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 further 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 lodgings,
put up half a dozen shirts and a black pair
of silk breeches;-" the coat I have on,"
said T, 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 set down to my dinner
upon a fricaseed chicken, so ncontestibly
in France, that, had I died that night of an
indigestion, the whole world could not have
suspended the effects of the droits d'aubaine;*-my shirts, and black pair of silk
breeches,-portmanteau and all, must have
gone to the King of France;-even the
little picture which I have so long worn,
and so often told thee, Eliza, I would carry
with me'into my grave, would have been
torn from my neck!-Ungenerous! to seize
upon the wreck of an unwary passenger,
whom your subjects had beckoned to their
coast! —by Heaven! Sire! it is not well
(lone; and much does it grieve me'tis the
monarch of a people so civilized and courteous, and so renowned for sentiment and
fine feelings, that I have to reason with!But I have scarce set a foot in your dominions

CALAIS.


WHEN I had finished my dinner, and
drank the King of France's health, to satisfymy mind that I bore him no spleen,
but, on.the contrary, high honor for the humanity of his temper,-I rose up an inch
taller for the accommodation.
-No, said I, the Bourbon is by no means
a cruel race; they may be misled, like other
people, but there is a mildness in their blood.
As I acknowledgedthis, I felt a suffusion
of a finer kind upon my cheek, more warm
and friendly to man than what Burgundy
(at least of two livres a bottle, which was
such as I had been lrinking) could have
produced.
-Just God! said I, kicking my portman.
teau 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?
When man is at peace with man, how
much lighter than a feather is the heaviest
of metals in his hand! he pulls out his purse,
and holding it airily and uncompress'd, looks
round him, as if he sought for an object to
share it with.-In doing this, I felt every
vessel in my frame dilate, — the arteries
beat all cheerly together, and every power
which sustained life performed it with so
little friction, that'twould have confounded
the most physical precieuse in France:
with all her materialism, she could scarce
have called me a machine.
I'm confident, said I to myself, I shouldo
have overset her creed.
The accession of that idea carried Nature, at that time, as high as she could go.
-I was at peace with the world before,
and this finish'd the treaty with myself


*All the effects of strangers (Swiss and Scots excepted) dying in France are seized, by virtue of this
law, though the heir be upon the spot;-the profit of
these contingencies being farmed, there is no redress.
2 K




274


SENTIMIRENTAL JOURENEY




-Now, was I a King of France, cried I, I tented ignorance looking downwards upon
what a moment for an orphan to have the earth;-it look'd forwards, but look'd
begg'd his father's portmanteau of me!  as if it look'd at something beyond this
world. How one of his order came by it,
Heaven above, who let it fall upon a monk's
shoulders, best knows; but it would have
TIHE MONK.                suited a Brahmin, and, had I met it upon the
plains of Indostan, I had reverenced it.
CALAIS.                  The rest of his outline may be given in
I HAD scarce uttered the words, when a a few strokes; one might put it into the
poor monk, of the order cf St. Francis, hands of any one to design, for'twas neither
came into the room, to beg something for elegant nor otherwise, but as character and
his convent. No man cares to have his expression made it so: it was a thin, spare
virtues the sport of contingencies,-or one form, something above the common size, if
man may be generous, as another man is it lost not the distinction by a bend forward
puissant;-sed non quoad hanc,-or be it in the figure,-but it was the attitude of
as it may,-for there is no regular reason- entreaty: and, as it now stands presented to
ing upon the ebbs and flows of our humors: my imagination, it gained more than it lost
they may depend; upon the same causes, for by it.
aught I know, which influence the tides  When he had entered the room three
themselves;-'twould oft be no discredit to paces, he stood still; and laying his left
us to suppose it was so: I'm sure, at least hand upon his breast (a slender white staff
for myself, that in many a case I should be with which he journeyed being in his right)
more highly satisfied to have it said by the -when I had got close up to him, be introworld-" I had had an affair with the moorl, duced himself with the little story of the
in which there was neither sin nor shame," wants of his convent, and the poverty of
than have it pass altogether as my own act his order;-and did it with so simple a
and deed, wherein there was so much of grace,-and such an air of deprecation
both.                                  was there in the whole cast of his look and
-But be this as it may,-the moment I figure,-I was bewitch'd not to have been
cast my eyes upon him, I was predeter- struck with it.mined not to give him a single sous; and,  -A better reason was, I. had predeteraccordingly, I put my purse into my pocket, mined not to give him a single sous.


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 think there was
that in it which deserved 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; but from his eyes,
and'that sort of fire which was in them,
which seemed more tempered by courtesy
than years, could be no more than sixty:truth might lie between,-he was certainly
sixty-five; and the general air of his countenance, notwithstanding something seem'd
to have been planting wrinkles in it before
thei- time, agreed to the account.
It Wds one of those heads which Guido
has often painted,-mild, pale, penetrating,'ree from all commonplace ideas of fat con

THE MONK.
CALAIS.'TIS very true, said I, replying to a cast
upwards with his eyes, with which he had
concluded his address;-'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 no way sufficient
for the many great claims which are hourly
made upon it.
As I pronounced the words great claims,
he gave a slight glance with his eye downwards upon the sleeve of his tunic: —I felt
the full force of the appeal;-I acknow
ledge it, said I:-a coarse habit, and that
but once in three years, with meagre diet,
-are no great matters; and the true point




THROUGH FRANCE AND ITALY.


275


of pity is, as they can be earn'd in the world -and why I could use him thus?-I would
with so little industry, that your order have given twenty livres for an advocate.
should wish to procure them by pressing -I have behaved very ill, said J, within
upon a fund which is the property of the myself; but I have only just set out upon
lame, the blind, the aged,.and the infirm! mytravels, and shall learn better manners
-the captive, who lies down counting over as I get along.
and over again the days of his afflictions, languishes also for his share of it; and had you         -
been of the order of M7ercy, instead of the
order of St. Francis, poor as I am, continued  THE DESOBLIGEANT.
I, pointing at my portmanteau, full cheerfully should it have been opened to you, for           CALAIS.
the ransom of the unfortunate.-The monk  WHEN a man is discontented with himmade me a bow.-But of all others, resum'd self, it has one advantage, however, that it
I, the unfortunate of our own country, puts him into an excellent frame of mind
surely, have the first rights; and I have for making a bargain. Now, there being
left thousands in distress upon our own no travelling through France and Italy withshore.-The monk gave a cordial wave with out a chaise, and nature generally prompting
his head,-as much as to say, No doubt, us to the thing we are fittest for, I walked.
there is misery enough in every corner of out into the coach-yard to buy or hire somethe world, as well as within our convent; thing of that kind to my purpose: an old
-But we distinguish, said I, laying my desobligeant,* the furthest corner of the
hand upon the sleeve of his tunic, in return court,-hit my fancy at first sight; so I in

for his appeal, -we distinguish, my good
rather, betwixt those who wish only to eat
the bread of their own labor-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 letting his staff fall
within his arm, he press'd both his hands
with resignation upon his breast, and retired.
THE MONK.
CALAIS.
MY heart smote me the moment he shut
the door.-Psha! said I, with an air of carelessness, three several times,-but it would
not do; every ungracious syllable I had
uttered crowded back into my imagination:
I reflected I had no right over the poor
Franciscan but to deny him; and that the
punishment of that was enough to the disappointed, without the addition of unkind
language.-I considered his grey hairs:his courteous figure seem'd to re-enter, and
gently ask me what injury he had done me?


stantly got into it, and finding it in tolerable
harmony with my feelings, I ordered the
waiter to call Monsieur Dessein, the master
of the hotel;-butMonsieur Dessein being
gone to vespers, and not caring to face the
Franciscan, whom I saw on the opposite
side of the court, in conference with a lady
just arrived at the inn,-I drew the taffetacurtain betwixt us, and; being determined
to write my journey, I took out my pen and
ink, and wrote the preface to it in the desobligeant.
PREFACE.
IN THE DESOBLIGEANT.
IT must have been- observed, by many
a peripatetic philosopher, That Nature has
set up, by her own unquestionable authority,


certain boundaries and fences to circumscribe the discontent of man; she has effected her purpose in the quietest and easiest manner, by laying hint under alrmost
insuperable obligations to work out his ease.
and to sustain his sufferings at home. It is
there only that she has provided him with
the most suitable objects to partake of hia


* A chaise, so called in France, from its holding bur
one person.




276


SENTIMENTAL JOURNEY




happiness, and bear a part of the burden cision and nicety, to avoid a confusion ot
which, in all countries and ages, has ever character: and these men I speak of are
been too heavy for one pair of shoulders. such as cross the seas, and sojourn in a land'Tis true, we are endued with an imperfect of strangers, with a view of saving money, for
power of spreading our happiness some- various reasons, and upon various pretences;
times beyond her limits; but'tis soiordered, but, as they might also save themselves and
that, from the want of languages, connex- others a great deal of unnecessary trouble
ions, and dependencies, and, from the differ- by saving their money at home,-and, as
ence in educations, customs, and habits, we their reasons for travelling are the least
lie under so many impediments in com- complex of any other species of emigrants,
municating our sensations out of our own I shall distinguish these gentlemen by the
sphere, as often amount to a total impos- name of
sibility.                                         Simple Travellers.
It will always follow from hence, that the  Thus thei liiolb circle of travellers may
halance of sentimental commerce is always be reduced to the following heads:against the expatriated adventurer: he must  Idle Travellers,
buy-what he has little occasion for, at their  Inquisitive Travellers,
own price;-his conversation will seldom be   Lying Travellers,
taken in exchange for theirs without a large  Proud Travellers,
discount,-and this, by the bye, eternally    Vain Travellers;
driving him into the hands of more equitable  Splenetic Travellers:
brokers, for such conversation as he can find, then follow
it requires no great spirit of divination to  The Travellers of Necessity,
guess at his party.                          The Delinquent and Felonious TravThis brings me to my point, and naturally       eller,
leads me (if the see-saw of this desobligeant  The Unfortunate and Innocent Travwill but let me get on) into the efficient as     eller,
well as final causes of travelling.          The Simple Traveller,
Your idle people that. leave their native  Arid last of all (if you please) The Senticountry, and go abroad for some reason or mental Traveller (meaning thereby myself)
reasons which may be derived from one of who have travell'd, and of which I am now
these general causes:-                 sitting down to give an account,-as much
Infirmity of body,               out of Necessity, and the besoin de VoyaImbecility of mind, or           ger, as any one in the class.
Inevitable necessity.              I am well aware, at the same time, as
The two first include all those who travel both my travels and observations will be alby land or by water, laboring with pride, together of a different cast from any of my
curiosity, vanity, or spleen, subdivided and forerunners, that I might have insisted upon
combined in infinitum.                 a whole niche entirely to myself;-but I
The third class includes the whole army should break in upon the confines of the Vain
of peregrine martyrs; more especially those Traveller, in wishing to draw attention totravellers who set out upon their travels-wards me, till I have some better grounds
with the benefit of the clergy, either as for it than the mere Novelty of my Vehicle.
delinquents, travelling under the direction It is sufficient for my reader, if he has been
of governors recommended by the magis- a Traveller himself, that with study and retrate;-or young gentlemen, transported by flection hereupon, he may be able to detertne cruelty of parents and guardians, and mine his own place and rank in the catatravelling under the direction of governors logue;-it will be one step towards knowing
recommended by Oxford, Aberdeen, and himself, as it is great odds but he retains
Glasgow.                               some tincture and resemblance of what he
There is a fourth class, but their number imbibed or carried out, to the present liour.
is so'small, that they would not deserve a  The man who first transplanted the grape
distinction, were it not necessary, in a work of Burgundy to the Cape of Good Hope (obif this nature, to observe the greatest pre- serve he was a Dutchman) never dreamt of






TTr>OUGI- FRANCE AND ITALY.


277


drinking the same wine at the Cape that
the same grape produced upon the French
mountains,-he was too phlegmatic for that;
-but, undoubtedly, he expected to drink
some sort of vinous liquor; but whether
good, bad, or indifferent,-he knew enough
of this world to know that it did not depend
upon his choice, but that what is generally
called chance was to decide his success:
however, he hoped for the best; and in these
hopes, by an intemperate confidence in the
fortitude of his head, and the depth of his
discretion, Mynheer might possibly overset
both in his new vineyard; and, by discovering his nakedness, become a laughing-stock
to his people.
Even so it fares with the poor Traveller
sailing and posting through the politer kingdoms of the globe, in pursuit of knowledge
and improvements.
Knowledge and improvements are to be
got by sailing and posting for that purpose;
but whether useful knowledge and real improvements are all a lottery;-and, even
where the adventurer is successful, the acquired stock must be used with caution and sobriety, to turn toany profit:-but, as the chances run prodigiously the other way, both as to
the acquisition and application, I am of opinion, That a man would act as wisely, if he
could prevail upon himself to live contented
without foreign knowledge or foreign improvelnents, especially if he lives in a country
that has no absolute want of either; and indeed much grief of heart has it oft and many
a time cost me, when I have observed how
many a foul step the Inquisitive Traveller
has measured, to see sights and look into
discoveries, all which, as Sancho Panca said
to Don Quixote, they might have seen dryshod at home. It is an age so full of light,
that there is scarce a country or corner of
Europe, whose beams are not crossed and
interchanged with others.-Knowledge, in
most of its branches, and in most affairs, is
like music in an Italian street, whereof those
may partake who pay nothing.-But there
is no nation under Heaven,-and God is my
record (before whose tribunal I must one
day come and give an account of this work)
-that I do not speak it vauntingly,-But
there is no nation under Heaven abounding
with more variety of learning,-where the
sciences may be more fitly woo'd, or more


surely won, than here,-where Art is encouraged, and will soon rise'high,-where
Nature (take her altogether) has so little to
answer for,-and, to close all, where there
is more wit and variety-of character to feed
the mind with:-Where, then, my dear
countrymen,. are you going?We are only looking at this chaise, said
they.-Your most obedient servant, said I,
skipping out of it, and pulling off my hat.
-We were wondering, said one of them,
who, I found, was anIlnquisitive Traveller,
-what could occasion its motion.-'Twas
the agitation, said I, coolly, of writing a
preface. —  never heard, said the other,
who was a Simple Traveller, of a preface
wrote in a desobligeanl.-It would have
been better, said I, in a vis-a-vis.
As an Englishman does not travel to see
Englishmen, I retired to my room.
CALAIS.
I PERCEIVED that something darken'd
the passage more than myself, as I stepp'd
along it to my room; it was effectually
Mons. Dessein, the master of the hotel,
who had just returned from vespers, and,
with his hat under his arm, was most complaisantly following me, to put me in mind
of my wants. I had wrote myself pretty
well out of conceit with the desobligeant;
and Mons. Dessein speaking of it with a
shrug, as if it would no way suit me, it
immediately struck my fancy that it belonged to some Innocent Traveller, who,
on his return home, had left it to Mons.
Dessein's honor to make the most of. Four
months had elapsed since it had finished its
career of Europe in the corner of Mons.
Dessein's coach-yard: and having sallied out
from thence but a vampt-up business at the
first, though it had been twice taken to
pieces on Mount Sennis, it had not profited
much by its adventures,-but by none so
little as the standing so many months unpitied in the corner of Mons. Dessein's coachyard. Much, indeed, was not to be said for
it,-but something might,-and, when a few
words will rescue Misery out of her Distress.
I hate the man who can be a churl of them.
-Now, was I the master of this hotel,
said I, laying the point of my fore-finger on
24




278
Mons. Dessein's breast,
make a point of getting
nate desobligeant; it st
proaches at you every ti
lMon Dieu! said Mons
no interest.-Except tl
which men of a certain
Mons. Dessein, in their
I'm persuaded, to a man
as well as for himself,
disguise it as you will,
upon your spirits. You
sein, as much as the mac
I have always observe
much sour as sweet in
an Englishman is eterna
himself whether to take
Frenchman never is; M
me a bow.
C'est bien vrai, said he
I should only exchange
another, and with loss.
my dear Sir, that in gi
which would fall to piec
got half-way to Paris,how much I should suffe
impression of myself to E
lying at the mercy, as
homme d'esprit.
The dose was made u
own prescription; so I cc
it,-and returning Mons
without more casuistry X
towards his remise, to 1
magazine of chaises.
IN THE ST
CALAIS
IT must needs be a
world when the buyer (if
post-chaise) cannot go fo
thereof into the street, to
ference betwixt them, bu
into the same fiame of I
conventionist with the si
it he was going along x
Park Corner to fight a d
part, being but a poor
10o way a match for Me




SENTIMENTAL JOURNEY
I would inevitably the rotation of all the movements within me,
rid of this unfortu- to which the situation is incident;-I looked
Lands swinging re- at Monsieur Dessein through and through,
ime you pass by it. -eyed him as he walked along in profile,3. Dessein,-I have then en face;-thought he looked like a
he interest, said I, Jew,-then a Turk,-disliked his wig, cursturn of mind take, ed him by my gods,-wished him at the
own sensations.-  Devil!
who feels for others  -And is all this to be lighted up in the
every rainy night, heart for a beggarly account of three or four
must cast a damp Louis d'ors, which is the most I can be oversuffer, Mons. Des- reached in?-Base passion'! said I, turning:hine.            myself about, as a man naturally does upon
d, when there is as a sudden reverse of sentiment,-base, una compliment, that gentle passion! thy hand is against every
lly at a loss within man, and every man's hand against thee.it or let it alone; a Heaven forbid! said she, raising her hand
[ons. Dessein made up to her forehead, for I had turned full in
front upon the lady whom I had seen in con-..-But in this case, ference with the monk;-she had followed
one disquietudefor us unperceived. -Heaven forbid, indeed!
Figure to yourself, said I, offering her my own;-she had a
iving you a chaise black pair of silk gloves, open only at the
-es before you had thunmb and two fore-fingers, so accepted it
-figure to yourself without reserve,-and I led her up to the,r, in giving an ill door of the remise.
a man of honor, and  Monsieur Dessein had diabled the key
I must do, d'un above fifty times, before he found out he had
come with a wrong one in his hand: we
p exactly after my were as impatient as himself to have it
luld not help taking open'd; and so attentive to the obstacle, that
i. Dessein his bow, I continued holding her hand almost without
ve walked together knowing it; so that Mons. Dessein left us
take a view of his together, with her hand in mine, and with
our faces turned towards the door of the
remise, and said he would be back in five
minutes.
Now, a colloquy of five minutes, in such'REET.           a situation, is worth one of as many ages,
with your faces turned towards the street.
In the latter case,'tis drawn from the objects and occurrences without;-when your
hostile kind of a eyes are fixed upon a dead blank,-you
it be but of a sorry draw purely from yourselves. A silence of
)rth with the seller a single moment, upon Mons. Dessein's leavterminate the dif- ing us, had been fatal to the situation,-she
it he instantly falls had infallibly turned about;-so I began the
iind, and views his conversation instantly.
ame sort of eye, as  -But what were the temptations (as I
with him to Hyde write not to apologize for the weaknesses of
uel. For my own my heart in this tour,-but to give an acr swordsman, and count of them)-shall be described with the
mns. Dessein, I felt same simplicity with which I felt them




THROUGH FRANCE AND ITALY.


279


THE REMISE DOOR.
CALAIS.
WHEN I told the reader that I did not care
to get out of the desobligeant,- because I
saw the monk in, close conference with the
lady just arrived at the inn,! told him the
truth; but I did not tell him the whole truth;
for I was full as much restrained by the appearance and figure of the lady he was talking to. Suspicion crossed my brain, and
said, he was telling her what had passed:
something jarred upon it within me, -I
wished him at his convent.
When the heart flies out before the understanding, it saves the judgment a world
of pains.-I was certain she was of a better
order of beings; —-however, I thought no
more of her, but went on and-wieot-e my
preface.
The impression returned, upon my. enc6unter with her in tihe street; a guarded
frankness with which she gave ine her hand,
showed, I thought, her good education and
her good sense; and, as I lied her on, I felt
a pleasurable ductility about her, which
spread a calmness over all my spirits.
-Good God! how a man might lead such
a creature as this round the world with
himl!
I had not yet seen her face,-'twas not
material: for the drawing was instantly set
about, and, long before we had got to the
door of'the remise, Fancy had finish'd the
whole head, and pleased- herself as much
with its fitting her goddess, as if she had
dived into the Tiber for it;-but thou art
seduced, and a seducing slut; and albeit
thou cheatest us seven times a day with thy
pictures and images, yet with so many
charms dost thou do it, and thou deckest out
thy pictures in the shapes of so many angels
of light,'tis a shame to break with thee.
When we had got to the door of the remise, she withdrew her hand from across
her forehead, and let me see the original:
-it was a face of about six-and-twenty,of a clear transparent brown, simply set off
without rouge or powder;-it was not critically handsome, but there was that in it
-:-ihich, in -the frame of mind I was in, attached me much more to it,-it was interesting; I fancied it wore the characters of
a widow'd look, and in that state of its de

clensionwhich, had passed the two first paroxysms of sorrow, and was quiet1v bezin
ning to reconcile itself to its loss;-but a
thousand other distresses might have traced
the same'lines; I wish'd to know what they
bad been,-and was. ready to inquire (had
the same bon ton of conversation   tted
as in the days of Esdras)  What a-ileth
11 thee? and why art thou disquieted? and,
66 why is thy understanding troubled?"
In a word, I f6lt benevolence for her, and
resolv'd, some way or             in my
mite of courtesy,-if not of service.
Such were, my temptation's; and in thrift
disposition to I give way to them was I left
alone with the lady, with her hand, in mine,
ed. lo e to the
an wit our aces both t -urn  c s r
8oor' of the rem ise th -an what was absolutely
necessary.
THE REMISE DOOM
CALAIS.
THIS certainly, fair lady, said 1, raising
her hand up a littlelightly as Ibegan, must
be one of Fortune's whimsical doings; to
take two utter strangers by their hands, —,
-of different sexes, and, perhaps, from different corners of the'globe. and in one moment
place them together in such a cordial situation as Frien6hip herself could scarce have
achieved for them, bad she projected it for
a month.
1 -And your reflection upon it shows how
much, Monsieur, she has embarrassed you
by the adventure.
When the situation is what we, would
wish, nothing is so ill-timed as to aintat the
circumstances which make it so.    You
thank Fortune, continued she-you. had reason,7 —the heart knew it, and.was satisfied;
Iand who but an English philosopber would
have sent notice of it to the brain to reverse
the judgment?
In saying this, she disengaged her hand,
with a look which I thought a sufficient
commentary uon the text.
It is a miserable picture which I am going,
to give of the weakness of my heart, by
owning that it suffered a pain, which worthler occasions could not have inflicted.- t
was morti.'fled with the 1.)ss of her hand; vxA
the manner in which I had lost it, carried


clension'which had passed the two first paroxysms of sorrow, and was quietly begin
ning to reconcile itself to its loss;-but a
thousand other distresses might have traced
the same lines; I wish'd to know what they
had been,-and was. ready to inquire (had
the same bon ton of conversation permitted
as in the days of Esdras) -" What aileth
" thee? and why art thou disquieted? and
" why is thy understanding troubled?"In a word, I felt benevolence for her, and
resolv'd, some way or other, to throwin m my
mite of courtesy,-if not of service.
Such were my temptations; and in thif
disposition to give way to them, was I left
alone with the lady, with her hand in mine,
and with our faces both turned. closer to the
door of the remise than what was absolutely
necessary.
THE REMISE DOOR.
CALAIS.
THIS certainly, fair lady, said I, raising
her hand up a little lightly as I began, must
be one of Fortune's whimsical doings; to
take two utter strangers by their hands,of different sexes, and, perhaps, from different corners of the' globe, and in one moment
place them together in such a cordial situation as Friendship herself could scarce have
achieved for them, had she projected it for
a month.
-And your reflection upon it shows how
much, Monsieur, she has embarrassed you
by the adventure.'When the situation is vhat we, would
wish, nothing is so ill-timed as to Lint at the
circumstances which make it so.  You
thank Fortune, continued she-you had reason,,-the heart knew it, and was satisfied;
and who but an English philosopher would
have sent notice of it to the brain to reverse
the judgment?
In saying this, she disengaged her hand,
with a look which I thought a sufficient
commentary upon the text.
It is a miserable picture which 1 am going,
to give of the weakness of my heart, by
owning that it suffered a pain, which worthier occasions could not have inflicted.- t
was mortified with the 1.)ss of her hand; arnd
the manner in which I had lost it, carried




280


SENTIM~ENTA-L JOURNEY..


neither oil nor wine to the wound; I never of the line, as if uncertain whether he
felt the pain of a peevish inferiority so mis- should break in upon us or no. -e stopp'd,
erably in my life.                     however, as soon as he dame up to us, with
The triumphs of a true feminine heart a world of frankness, and having a horn
are short upon these discomfitures. In a snuff-box in his hand, he piresented it open
very few seconds she laid her hand upon the to me.-You shall taste mine, said I, pulling
cuff of my coat, in order to finish her reply; out my box (which was a small tortoise one),
so, some way or other, God knows how, I and putting it into his hand. -'Tis most
regained my situation.                 excellent, said the monk.-Then do me the
-She had nothing to add.             favor, I replied, to accept of the box and
I forthwith began to model a different con- all; and when you take a pinch out of it,
versation for the lady, thinking, from the sometimes recollect it was the peace-offerspirit as well as moral of this, that I had ing of a man who once used you unkindl',
been mistaken in her character; but, upon but not from his heart.
turning her face towards me, the spirit  The poor monk blush'd as red as scarlet.
which had animated the reply was fled, — Mon Dieu! said he, pressing his hands tothe muscles relaxed, and I saw the same gether,-you never used me unkindly.-I
unprotected look of distress which first won should think, said the lady, he is not likely.
me to her interest:-melancholy! to see -I blush'd in my turn; but from what
such sprightliness the prey of sorrow,-I movements, I leave to the few who feel, to
pitied her from my soul; and, though it analyze.-Excuse me, Madam, replied I,may seem ridiculous enough to a torpid I treated him most unkindly; and from no
heart,-.1 could have taken her into my provocations. -'Tis impossible, said the
arms, and cherished her, though it was in lady. -My God! cried the monk, with a
the open street, without blushing.     warmth of asseveration which seemed not
The pulsations of the arteries along my to belong to him,-the fault was in me, and
fingers pressing across hers, told her what in the indiscretion of my zeal.-The lady
was passing within me. She looked down: opposed it: and I joined with her,-in main-a silence of some moments followed. -  taining it was impossible that a spirit so
I fear, in this interval, I must have made regulated as his could give offence to any.
some slight efforts towards a closer corn-  I knew not that contention could be renpression of her hand, from a subtle sensa- dered so sweet and pleasurable a thing to
tion I felt in the palm of my own,-not as the nerves as I then felt it. WVIe remained
if she was going to withdraw hers,-but as silent, without any sensation of that foolish
if she thought about it;-and I had infalli- pain which takes place, when, in such a
bly lost it a second time, had not instinct, circle, you look for ten minutes in one anmore than reason, directed me to the last other's faces without saying a word. Whilst
resource in these dangers,-to hold it loose- this lasted, the monk rubb'd his horn-box
ly, and in a manner as if I was every mo- upon the sleeve of his tunic: and as SOOn
ment going to release it of myself: so she as it had acquired a little air of brightness
let it continue till Mons. Dessein returned by the friction, he made a low bow, and said,
with the key; and, in the mean time, I-set'Twas too late to say whether it'was the'myself to consider how I should undo the weakness or goodness of our tempers which
ill impressions which the poor monk's story, had involved us in this contest;-but, be it
in case he had told it her, must have planted as it Would,-he begged we might exchange
in her breast against me.             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.THlE SNUFF-BOX.              with a stream of good-nature in his eves,
he put it into his bosom, -and took his
CALAIS.                leave.
THE good old monk was within six paces  I guard this box as I would the instruuf us as the idea of him cross'd my mind; mental parts of my religion, to help my
d was advancing towards us a little out mind on to something better. In truth, 1




THROUGH FRANCE AND ITALY.


281


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 justlings of the world: they
had found full employment for his, as I
learnt from his story, till about the fortyfifth year of his age, when, upon some military services ill requited, and meeting at
the same time with a disappointment in the
tenderest of passions, he abandoned the
sword and the sex together, and took sanctuary, not so much in his convent as in
himself.
I feel a damp upon my spirits as I am
going to add, that in my last return through
Calais, upon inquiring after Father Lorenzo, I heard he had been dead near three
months; and was buried, not in his convent,
but according to his desire, in a little cemetery belonging to it, about two leagues off.
I had a strong desire to see where they had
laid him,-when upon pulling out his little
horn-box, as I sat by his grave, and plucking up a nettle or two at the head of it,
which had no business to grow there, they
all struck together so forcibly upon my affections, that I burst into a flood ofLears;
-but I am as weaK as a woman; and I beg
the world not to smile, but pity me.
THE REMISE DOOR.
CALAIS.
I HAD never quitted the lady's hand all
this time; and had held it so long, that it
would have been indecent to have let it go,
without first pressing it to my lips: the
blood and spirits, which had suffered a revulsion from her, crowded back to her as I
did it.
Now the two travellers, who had spoke
to me in the coach-yard, happened at the
crisis to be passing by, and, observing our
communications, naturally took it into their
heads that we must be man and wife at
least; and so stopping as soon as they came
dp to the door of the remise, the one of
them, who was the Inquisitive Traveller,
ask'd us if we set out for Paris the next
morning — I could only answer for myself,
I said;-and the lady added, she was for.nAiens.-We dined there yesterday, said
2 L


the Simple Traveller. -You go directly
through the town, added the other, in your
road to Paris. - I was going to return a
thousand thanks for the intelligence that
Amiens was in the road to Paris; but upon
pulling out my poor monk's little horn-box
to take a pinch of snuff, I made them a
quiet bow, and wished them a good passage
to Dover.-They left us alone.
Now where would be the harm, said I to
myself, if I was to beg of this distressed
lady to accept of half of my chaise?-and
what mighty mischief would ensue?
Every dirty passion and bad propensity
in my nature took the alarm as I stated the
proposition;-It will oblige you to have a
third horse, said Avarice, which will put
twenty livres out of your pocket. -You
know not what she is, said Caution; or
what scrapes the affair may draw you into,
whisper'd Cowardice.
-Depend upon it, Yorick, said Discretion,'twill be said you went off with a mistress; and came, by assignation, to Calais
for that purpose.
-You can never after, cried Hypocrisy,
aloud, show your face in the world;-nor
rise, quoth Meanness, in the church;-nor
be any thing in it, said Pride, but a lousy
prebendary.
But'tis a civil thing, said I;-and as I
generally act from the first impulse, and
therefore seldom listen to these cabals,
which serve no purpose that I know of, but'to encompass the heart with adamant,-I
turn'd instantly about to the lady, —
But she had glided off unperceived, as
the cause was pleading, and had made ten
or a dozen paces down the street by the
time I had made the determination; so I
set off after her with a long stride, to make
her the proposal with the best address I
was master of; but observing she walk'd
with her cheek half resting upon the palm
of her hand,-with the slow, short-measur'd
step of thoughtfulness; and with her eyes,
as she went step by step, fixed upon the
ground, it struck me she was trying the
same case herself.-God help her! said I,
she has some mother-in-law, or tartufish
aunt, or nonsensical old woman, to consuh
upon the occasion, as well as myself: so.
not caring to interrupt the process, and
deeming it more gallant to take her it iia'
24*




282


SENTIMENTAL JIOURNEY


cretion than surprise, I faced abont,  and Madame must have come through'Flanders.
took a short turn or two before the door of -Apparemment vous etes Flammande?
the remise, whilst she walk'd musing on said the French captain.-The lady anone side.                             swered, she was.- Peut-etre de Lisle?
added he.-She answered, she was not of
Lisle.-Nor Arras?-nor Cambray?-nor
Ghent - nor Brussels -She answered,
IN THE STREET.               she was of Brussels.
-He had had the honor, he said, to be
CALAIS.                at the bombardment of it last war;-that
HAVING, on first sight of the lady, set- it was finely situated, pour cela,-and full
led the affair in my fancy, "that.,sha.was of noblesse when the Imperialists were
of the better order of beings;"-and then driven out by the French (the lady made a
laid it down as a second axiom, as indispu- slight curtsey;)-so giving her an account
table as the first, That she was.a widow, of the affair, and of the share he had had
and wore a character of distress,-I went in it,-he begg'd the honor to know her
no further; I got ground enough for the name,-so made his bow.
situation which pleased me;-and had she  -Et Madame a son Mari? said he,
remained close beside my elbow till mid- looking back when he had made two steps,
night, I should have held true to my sys- -and, without staying for an answer,tern, and considered her only under that danced down the street.
general idea.                           Had I served seven years' apprenticeship
She had scarce got twenty paces distant to good-breeding, I could not have done as
from me, ere something within me called much.


out for a more particular inquiry;-it
brought on the idea of a further separation:
— I might possibly never see her more:the heart is for saving what it can; and I
wanted the traces through which my wishes
might find their way to her, in case I should
never rejoin her myself. In a word, I
wish'd to know her name,-her family,her condition;-and as I knew the place to
which she was going, I wanted to know
from whence she came: but there was no
coming at all this intelligence: a hundred
little delicacies stood in the way. I form'd
a score different plans. -There was no
such thing as a man's asking her directly;
-the thing was impossible.
A little French debonnaire captain, who
came inci6iig dovwn tihestreet, showed me
it was the easiest thing in the world;-for,
popping in betwixt us, just as the lady was
returning back to the door of the remise,
lie introduced himself to my acquaintance,
and before he had well got announced,
begg'd I would do him the honor to present
him to the lady.-I had not been presented
myself;-so turning about to her, he did it
just as well, by asking her if she had come
from  Paris?-No; she was going that
route. she said. —Vous n'etes pas de Lon-,ire.s —She was not, she replied.-Then


THE REMISE.
CALAIS.
As the little French captain left us,
Mons. Dessein came up with the key of
the remise in his hand, and forthwith let us
into his magazine of chaises.
The first object which caught my eye, as
Mons. Dessein open'd the door of the remise,
was another old tatter'd desobligeant; and,
notwithstanding it was the exact picture
of that which had hit my fancy so much in
the coach-yard but an hour before,-the
very sight of it stirr'd up a disagreeable
sensation within me now; and I thought'twas a churlish beast into whose heart the
idea could first enter to construct such a
machine; nor had I much more charity for
the man who could think of using it.
I observed the lady was as little taken
with it as myself: so Mons. Dessein led us
on to a couple of chaises which stood
abreast, telling us, as he recommended
them, that they had been purchased by my
Lord A. and B. to go the grand tour, but
had gone no further than Paris; so were,
in all respects, as good as new.-Tlhv




THROUGH FRANCE AND ITALY.


283


were too good;-so I pass'd on to a third,
which stood behind, and forthwith began
to chaffer for the price.-But'twill scarce
hold two, said I, opening the door and getting in.-Have the goodness, Madam, said
Mons. Dessein, offering his arm, to step in.
-The lady hesitated half a second, and
stepp'd in; and the waiter that moment
beckoning to speak to Mons. Dessein, he
shut the door of the chaise upon us, and
left us.
THE REMISE DOOR.
CALAIS.
C'est bien comique,'tis very droll, said
the lady smiling, from the reflection that
this was the second time we had been left
together by a parcel of nonsensical contingencies,-c'est bien comique, said she.
-There wants nothing, said I, to make
it so, but the comic use which the gallantry
of a Frenchman would put it to,-to make
love the first moment,-and an offer of his.
person the second.
-'Tis their fort, replied the lady.
-It is supposed so at least;-and how it
has come to pass, continued I, I know not;
but they have certainly got the credit of
understanding more of love, and making it
better, than any other nation upon earth;
but for my own part, I think them arrant
bunglers; and, in truth, the worst set of
marksmen that ever tried Cupid's patience.
-To think of making love by sentiments!
I should as soon think of making a genteel suit of clothes out of remnants;-and
to do it,-pop,-at first sight by declaration,
- is submitting the offer, and themselves
with it, to be sifted with all their pours and
contres, by an unheated mind.
The lady attended as if she expected I
should go on.
-Consider then, Madam, continued I,
laying my hand upon hers,That grave people hate Love for the
name's sake,That selfish people hate it for their own,Hypocrites for Heaven's,And that all of us, both old and young,
being ten times worse frightened than hurt
by the very report,
What a want of knowledge in this branch


of commerce a man betrays, whoever lets
the word come out of his lips till an hour or
two at least after the time that his silence
upon it becomes tormenting! A course of
small, quiet attentions, not so pointed as to
alarm, - nor so vague as to be misunderstood,-with now and then a look of kindness, and little or nothing said upon it,leaves Nature for your mistress, and she
fashions it to her mind.
-Then I solemnly declare, said the lady,
blushing,-you have been making love to
me all this while.
THE REMISE.
CALAIS.
MONSIEUR Dessein came back to let us
out of the chaise, and acquaint the lady that
Count de L —, her brother, was just arrived
at the hotel. Though I had infinite goodwill for the lady, I cannot say that I rejoiced
in my heart at the event, -and could not
help telling her so;-for it is fatal to a proposal, Madam, said I, that I was going to
make to you.
-You need not tell me what the proposal
was, said she, laying her hand upon both
mine, as she interrupted me.-A man, my
good Sir, has seldom an offer of kindness to
make to a woman, but she has a presentiment of it some moments before.
-Nature arms her with it, said I, for immediate preservation.-But Ithink, said she,
looking in my face, I had no evil to apprehend;-and, to deal frankly with you, had
determined to accept it.- If I had-(she
stopped a moment)-I believe your goodwill would have drawn a story from me,
which would have made pity the only dangerous thing in the journey.
In saying this, she suffered me to kiss her
hand twice; and, with a look of sensibility
mixed with concern, she got out of the
chaise,-and bid adieu.
IN THE STREET.
CALAIS.
I NEVER finished a twelve-guinea bargain
so expeditiously in my life. My time seemed




'284                    SENTIMENTAL JOURNEY
heavy upon the loss of the lady; and know- had fallen foul upon the goddess, and used
ing every moment of it would be as two, till her worse than a common strumpet, withI put myself into motion, -I ordered post- out the least provocation in nature.
horses directly, and walked towards the  I popp'd upon Smelfungus again at Turin,
hotel.                                in his return home; and a sad tale of sorLord! said I, hearing the town-clock rowful adventures he had to tell, "wherein
strike four, and recollecting that I had been "he spoke of moving accidents by flood and
little more than a single hour in Calais,-  "field, and of the cannibals who each other
What a large volume of adventures may "eat: the Anthropophagi."-He had been
be grasped within this little span of life, by flay'd alive, and bedevil'd, and used worse
him who interests his heart in every thing, than St. Bartholomew, at every stage he
and who, having eyes to see what time and had come at.chance are perpetually holding out to him  I'll tell it, cried Smelfungus, to the world.
as he journeyeth on his way, misses nothing -You had better tell it, said I, to your
he can fairly lay his hands on!       physician.
-If this won't turn out something,- an-  Mundungus, with an immense fortune,
other will;-no matter,-'tis an essay upon made the whole tour; going on from Rome
human nature;-I get my labor for my to Naples,-from Naples to Venicc,-from
pains,-'tis enough;-the pleasure of the Venice to Vienna,-to Dresden, to Berlin,
experiment has kept my senses and the best without one generous connexion or pleaspart of my blood awake, and laid the gross urable anecdote to tell of; but he had travto sleep.                             ell'd straight on, looking neither to his
I pity the man who can travel from Dan right hand nor his left, lest Love or Pity
to Beersheba, and cry,'Tis all barren;- should seduce him out of his road.
and so it is: and so is all the world to him  Peace be to them, if it is to be found;
who will not cultivate the fruits it offers. I but Heaven itself, was it possible to get
declare, said I, clapping my hands cheerily there with such tempers, would want obtogether, that was I in a desert, I would jects to give it;-every gentle spirit would
find out wherewith in it to call forth my af- come flying upon the wings of Love to hail
fections:-if I could not do better, I would their arrival.-Nothing would the souls of
fasten them upon some sweet myrtle, or seek Smelfingus and Mundungus hear of, but
some melancholy cypress to connect myself fresh anthems of joy, fresh raptures of love,
to;-I would court their shade, and greet and fresh congratulations of their common
them kindly for their protection;-I would felicity.-I heartily pity them: they have
cut my name upon them, and swear they brought up no faculties for this work: and
were the loveliest trees throughout   t   he was thappiest mansion in Heaven to be
desert;  if their leaves withered, I would allotted to Smelfungus and Mundungus,
teach myself to mourn:-and when they they would be so far from being happy, that
rejoiced, I would rejoice along with them. the souls of Smelfungus and Mundungus
The learned Smelfungus travelled from would do penance there to all eternity!
Boulogne to Paris,-from Paris to Rome,and so on;-but he set out with the spleen
and jaundice; and every object he pass'd by
was discolored or distorted.-He wrote an            MONTRIUL.
account of them; but'twas nothing but the
account of his miserable feelings.      I HAD once lost my portmanteau from
I met Smelfungus in the grand portico behind my chaise, and twice got out in the
(f the Pantheon:-he was just coming out rain, and one of the times up to the knees
of it.-'Tis nothing but a huge cock-pit,* in dirt, to help the — postilion to tie it on,
said he.-I wish you had said nothing worse without being able to find out, what was
of the Venus of Medicis, replied I;-for in wanting.-Nor was it till I got to Montriul,
nassing through Florence, I had heard he upon the landlord's asking me if I wanted
----- -- not a servant, that it occurred to me tha'
*Vide S-'s Tiavels.        that was the very thing.






THROUGH FRANOE AND ITALY.


A servant! that I do, most sadly, quoth
I.-lBecause, Monsieur, said the landlord,
there is a clever young fellow, who would
be very proud of the honor to serve an Englishman.-But why an English one more
than any other? -They are so generous,
said the landlord.-I'll be shot if this is not
a livre out of my pocket, quoth I to myself,
this very night. -But they have wherewithal to be so, Monsieur, added he.-Set
down one livre more for that, quoth I.-It
was but last night, said the landlord, qu'un
my Lord Anglois presentoit un ecu d la
ille de chambre.-Tant pis, pour Mademoiselle Janatone, said I.
Now Janatone being the landlord's daughter, aridthe landlord supposing I was young
in French, took the liberty to inform me, I
should not have said tant pis;-but tant
mieux.- Tant mieux, toujours, Monsieur,
said he, when there is any thing to be got;
-tant pis, when there is nothing. -It
comes to the same thing, said I.-Pardonnez
moi, said the landlord.
I cannot take a fitter opportunity to observe, once for all, that tant pis and tant
m.ieux being two of the great hinges in
French conversation, a stranger would do
well to set himself right in the use of
them, before he gets to Paris.
A prompt French Marquis at our Ambassador's table, demanded of Mr. H, if he
vas H —- the poet?-No, said Mr. H —,
cnildly.- Tant pis, replied the Marquis.
-It is I —     the historian, said another.-Tant mieux, said the Marquis.And Mr. H-, who is a man of an excellent heart, return'd thanks for both.
When the landlord had set me right in
this matter, he called in La Fleur, which
was the name of the young man he had
spoke of,-saying only first, That as for his
talents, he would presume to say nothingMonsieur was the best judge what would
suit him; but for the fidelity of La Fleur,
he would stand responsible in all he was
worth.
The landlord delivered 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.




MONTRIVL.




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; and
as I know this weakness, I always suffer
my judgment to draw back something on
that very account,-and this more or less,
according to the mood I am in, and the
case;-and, I may add, the gender too of
the person I am to govern.
When La Fleur entered the room, after
every discount I could make for my soul,
the genuine look and air of the fellow determined the matter at once in his favor,
so I hired him at first,-and then began to
inquire what he could do.-But I shall find
out his talents, quoth I, as I want them;besides, a Frenchman can do every thing.
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
m'ake 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 honor of beating a drum
was likely to be its own reward;,as it open'd
no further track of glory to him, he retired
d ses. teris, and lived comme il plaisoit d
Dieu;-that is to say, upon nothing.
-And so, quoth Wisdom, you have hired
a drummer to attend you in this tour of
yours through France and Italy!-Pshaw!
said I, and do not one half of our gentry
go with a humdrum compagnon du voyage
the same round, and have the piper and the
Devil and all to pay besides 1 When a man
can extricate himself with an equivoque in
such an unequal match,-he is not ill off.But you can do something else, La Fleur:
said I. —   qu'oui! he could make spatter
dashes, and play a little upon the fiddle.Bravo! said Wisdom.-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




286


SENTIMENTAL JOURNEY


for me.-So suppei coming in, and having the key of my portmanteau, wltn an ina frisky English spaniel on one side of my ventory of my half a dozen shirts and a silk
chair, and a French valet, with as much pair of breeches; and bid him fasten all
hilarity in his countenance as ever Nature upon the chaise, —get the horses put to,painted in one, on the other,-I was satis- and desire the landlord to come in with his
fled to my heart's content with my empire; bill.
and if monarchs knew what they would be  -C'est un garcon de bonnefortune, said
at, they might be as satisfied as I was.  the landlord, pointing through the window
to half a dozen wenches who had got round.
about La Fleur, and were most kindly taking
MONTRIUL.               leave of him as the postilion was leading
out the horses. Ia Fleur kissed all their
As La Fleur went the whole tour of hands round and round again, and thrice
France and Italy with me, and will be often he wiped his eyes, and thrice he promised
upon the stage, I must interest the reader he would bring them  all pardons from
a little further in his behalf, by saying, that Rome.
I had never less reason to repent of the im-  -The young fellow, said the landlord,
pulses which generally do determine me, is beloved by all the town; and there is
than in regard to this fellow; —he was a scarce a corner in Montriul where the want
faithful, affectionate, simple soul as ever of him will not be felt. He has but one
trudged after the heels of a philosopher; misfortune in the world, continued he, "He
and notwithstanding his talents of drum- is always in love."-I am heartily glad of
beating and spatterdash-making, which, it, said I;'twill save me the trouble every
though very good in themselves, happened night of putting my breeches under my
to be of no great service to me, yet was I head. In saying this, I was making not so
hourly recompensed by the festivity of his much La Fleur's eloge as my own, having
temper;-it supplied all defects:-I had a been in love with one Princess or other alconistant resource in his looks, in all diffi- most all my life, and I hope I shall go on
culties and distresses of my own-(I was so till I die, being firmly persuaded, that if
going to have added, of his too;) but La ever I do a mean action, it must be in some
Fleur was out of the reach of every thing; interval betwixt one passion and another:
for whether it was hunger or thirst, or cold whilst this interregnum lasts, I always peror nakedness, or watchings, or whatever ceive my heart locked up,-I can scarce
stripes of ill-luck La Fleur met with in our find in it to give misery a sixpence: and
journeyings, there was no index in his physi- therefore I.always get out of it as fast as I
ognomy to point them out by,-he was can; and the moment I am rekindled, I am
eternally the same; so that if I am a piece all generosity and good-will again; and
of a philosopher, which Satan now and then would do any thing in the world, either foi
puts it into my head I am,-it always mor- or with any one, if they will but satisfy mt
tifies the pride of the conceit by reflecting there is no sin in it.
how much I owe to the complexional phi-.  -But in saying this, —sure I am corm
losophy of this poor fellow, for shaming me mending the passion,-not myself.
into one of a better kind. With all this, La
Fleur had a small cast of the coxcomb;but he- seemed, at first sight, to be more        A FRAGMENT.
a coxcomb of nature than of art; and before- I had been three days in Paris with  -THE town of Abdera, notwithstandirg!imrn,-he seemed to be no coxcomb at all. Democritus lived there, trying all the pow
ers of irony and laughter to reclaim it, was
the vilest and most profligate town in all
MONTRIUL.               Thrace. What for poisons, conspiracies, and
assassinations,-libels, pasquinades, and tuTHE next morning, La Fleur entering mults, there was no going there by day;upon his employment, I delivered to him'twas worse by night.




THROUGH FRANOE AND ITALY.


2&7,


Now, when things were at the worst, it
came to pass, that Andromeda of Euripides
being represented at Abdera, the whole
orchestra was delighted with it; but of all
the passages which delighted them, nothing
operated more upon their imaginations than
the tender strokes of nature which the poet
had wrought up in that pathetic speech of
Perseus, O0 Cupid, prince of Gods and men,
&c. Every man almost spoke pure iambics
the next day, and talk'd of nothing but
Perseus, his pathetic address,-" O Cupid,
"prince of Gods and men!" in every street
of Abdera, in every house, - "O Cupid!
"Cupid!" in every mouth, like the natural
notes of some sweet melody which drop
from it, whether it will or no,-nothing but
"Cupid! Cupid! prince of Gods and men!"
-The fire caught,-and the whole city,
like the heart of one man, open'd itself to
Love.
No pharmacopolist could sell one grain
of hellebore,-not a single armorer had a
heart to forge one instrument of death;Friendship and Virtue met together and
Kiss'd each other in the street;-the golden
age returned, and hung over the town of
Abdera; - every Abderite took his oaten
pipe; and every Abderitish woman left her
purple web, and chastely sat her down, and
listened to the song.
-'Twas only in the power, says the Fragment, of the God whose empire extendeth
from Heaven to earth, and even to the
depths of the sea, to have done this.
~~ —-' MONTRIUL.
WHEN all this is ready and every article
is disputed and paid for at the inn, unless
you are a little soured by the adventure,
there is always a matter to compound at
the door, before you can get into your chaise,
and that is, with the sons and daughters of
poverty who surround you. Let no man
say, "Let them go to the Devil!"-'tis a
cruel journey to send a few miserables; and
they have had sufferings enow without it.
I always think it better to take a few sous
out in my hand; and I would counsel every
gentle traveller to do so likewise; he need
not be so exact in setting down his motives


for giving them;-they will be register'd
elsewhere.
For my own part, there is no man gives
so little as I do; for few, that I know, have
so little to give: but as this was the first
public act of my charity in France, I took
the more notice of it.
-A   well-a-way! said I,-I have but
eight sous in the world, showing them in
my hand, and there are eight poor men and
eight poor women for'em.
A poor tatter'd soul, without a shirt on,
instantly withdrew his claim, by retiring
two steps out of the circle, and making a
disqualifying bow on his part. Had the
whole parterre cried out, Place aux dames,
with one voice, it would not have conveyed
the sentiment of a deference for the sex
with half the effect.
Just Heaven! for what wise reasons hast
thou ordered it, that beggary and urbanity,
which are at such variance in other countries, should find a way to be at unity in
this?
I insisted upon presenting him with a
single sous, merely for his politesse.
A poor little dwarfish brisk fellow, who
stood over-against me in the circle, putting
something first under his arm, which had
once been a hat, took his snuff-box out of his
pocket, and generously offer'd a pinch on
both sides of him: it was a gift of consequence, and modestly declined.-The poor
little fellow press'd it upon them with a nod
of-welcomeness.-Prenez-en,-prenez, said
he, looking another way; so they each took
a pinch.-Pity thy box should ever want
one, said I to myself; so I put a couple of
sous into it,-taking a small pinch out of
his box to enhance their value, as I did it.He felt the weight of the second obligation
more than of the first,-'twas doing him an
honor,-the other was only doing him a
charity;-and he made me a bow to the
ground for it.
-Here! said I to an old soldier with one
hand, who had been campaign'd and worn
out to death in the service,-here's a couple
of sous for thee.- Vive le Roi! said the old
soldier.
I had then but three sous left: so I gave
one, simply pour l'amour de Dieu, which
was the footing on which it was begg'd.




288


SENTIMENTAL JOURNEY


The poor woman had a dislocated hip; so it it than Diable! so presently got up, and
could not be well upon any other motive.  came to the charge again astride his bidet,
Mon cher et tres-charitable, Monsieur. beating him up to it as he would have beat
-There's no opposing this, said I.     his drum.
My Lord Anglois;-the very sound was   The bidet flew from one side of the road
worth the money:-so I gave my last sous to the other, then back again, then this way,
for it. But, in the eagerness of giving, I then that way, and, in short, every way
had overlooked a pauvre honteux, who had but by the dead ass:-La Fleur insisted
no one to ask a sous for him, and who, I be- upon the thing,-and the bidet threw him.
lieve, would have perish'd ere he could have  -What's the matter, La Fleur, said I,
ask'd one for himself; he stood by the chaise, with this bidet of thine?-Monsieur, said
a little without the circle, and wiped a tear he, c'est un cheval le plus opiniatre du
from a face which I thought had seen better monde.-Nay, if he is a conceited beast,
days. Good God! said I, and I have not one he must go his own way, replied I.-So La
single sous left to give him.-But you have Fleur got off him, and giving him a good
a thousand! cried all the powers of Nature, sound lash, the bidet took me at my word,
stirring within me;-so gave him-no mat- and away he scampered back to Montriul.ter what,-I am ashamed to'say how much Peste! said La Fleur.
now,-and was ashamed to think how little  It is not mal-d-propos to take notice here,
then; so if the reader can form any conjec- that though La Fleur availed himself but of
ture of my disposition, as these two fixed two different terms of exclamation in this
points are given him, he may judge within encounter, -namely, Diable! and Peste!
a livre or two what was the precise sum.  that there are, nevertheless, three in the
I could afford nothing for the rest, but French language, like the positive, compaDieu vous benisse.-Et le bon Dieu vous rative, and superlative, one or the other of
benisse encore, said the old soldier, the which serve for every unexpected throw of
dwarf, &c. The pauvre honteux could say the dice in life.
nothing, —be pull'd out a little handkerchief,  Le Diiable! which is the first and positive
and wiped his face as he turned away;-and degree, is generally used in ordinary emoT thought he thanked me more than them all. tions of the mind, where small things only
fall out contrary to your expectations,-such
as-the throwing one's doublets,-La Fleur's
being kick'd off his horse, and so forth.THE BIDET.                Cuckoldom, for the same reason, is always
Le Diable!
HAVING settled all these little matters, I  But in cases where the cast has something
got into my post-chaise with more ease than provoking in it, as in that of the Bidet's
ever I got into a post-chaise in my life; and running away after, and leaving La Fleur
La Fleur having got one large jack-boot on aground in jack-boots,-'tis the second dethe far side of a little bidet,* and another on gree.
this (for I count nothing of his legs) he can-'Tis then Peste!
ter'd before me as happy and as perpendicu-  And for the thirdlar as a prince.                         -But here my heart is wrung with pity
-But what is happiness? what is gran- and fellow-feeling, when I reflect what misdeur in this painted scene of life?-A dead eries must have been their lot, and how bitass, before we got a league, put a sudden terly so refined a people must have smarted,
stop to La Fleur's career; his bidet would to have forced them upon the use of it.
not pass by it,-a contention arose betwixt  -Grant me, 0 ye powers which touch the
thlem, and the poor fellow was kick'd out of tongue with eloquence in distress!-whathis jack-boots the very first kick.    ever is my cast, grant me but decent words
La Fleur bore his fall like a French to exclaim in, and I will give my nature
Christian, saying neither more nor less upon way.
- But as these were not to be had in
* Post-horse.            France, I resolved to take every evil iust




as it befell me, without
all.
La Fleur, who had m;
with himself, followed
eyes till it was got out
you may imagine, if y(
word he closed the who
As there was no hu
en'd horse in jack-boots
alternative but taking
hind the chaise or into
I preferred the lati
hour, we got to the pos


NAMPC
THE DEA


-AND this, said he,
of a crust into his wal
have been thy portion,
been alive to have sh
thought, by the accent,
trophe to his child; I
and to the very ass w
the road, which had o(
misadventure. The mE
it much; and it instar
mind Sancho's lament
did it with more true t
The mourner was E
bench at the door, with
ts bridle on one side
from time to time,-th
-look'd at them, and 
then took his crust of 1
let again, as if to eat
in his hand,-then lai
his ass's bridle,-lool
little arrangement he I
gave a sigh.
The simplicity of his
about him, and La Fie
whilst the horses were
continued sitting in the
see and hear over their
-He said he had col
where he had been frc
ders of Franconia; ant
his return home when
one seemed desirous to
could have taken so ol
far a journey from his
2 A


THROUGH FRANCE AND ITALY.                            289
t any exclamation at  -It had pleased Heaven, he said, to bless
him with three sons, the finest lads in all
ade no such covenant Germany; but having, in one week, lost
the Bidet with his two of the eldest of them by the small-pox,
of sight,-and then, and the youngest falling ill of the same
ou please, with what distemper, he was afraid of being bereft
ole affair.        of them all; and made a vow, if Heaven
nting down a fright- would not take him from him also, he would
3, there remained no go, in.gratitude, to St. Iago in Spain.
La Fleur either be-  When the mourner got thus far on his
it.-              story, he stoppd'to'pay-Nature his tribute,
ter, and, in half an -and wptbterly't-house at Nampont.  He said, Heaven had accepted the conditions, and that he had set out from his
cottage with this poor creature, who had
been a patient partner of his journey;-that
)NT.               it had eat the same bread with him all the
LD ASS.            way, and was unto him as a friend.
Every body who stood about, heard the
putting the remains poor fellow with concern.-La Fleur offered
let,-and this should him money.-The mourner said he did not
said he, hadst thou want it;-it was not the value of the ass,
ared it with me.-I but the loss of him. The ass, he said, he
it had been an apos- was assured,'loved him;-and, upon this,
)ut'twas to his ass, told them a long story of mischance upon
e had seen dead in their passage over the Pyrenean Mountains,
ecasioned La Fleur's which had separated them from each other
an seemed to lament three days; during which time the ass had
itly brought into my sought him as much as he had sought the
ation for his; but he ass; and that they had scarce either eat or
ouches of nature.  drunk till they met.
sitting upon a stone  -Thou hast one comfort, friend, said I,
* the ass's pannel and at least, in the loss of thy poor beast,-I'm, which he took up sure thou hast been a merciful master to
en laid them down, him.-Alas! said the mourner, I thought
shook his head. He so when he was alive; but now that he is
bread out of his wal- dead, I think otherwise.-I fear the weight
it, held it some time of myself and my afflictions together, have
d it upon the bit of been too much for himn,-they have shortk'd wistfully at the ened the poor creature's days, and I fear I
iad made,-and then have them to answer for.-Shame on the
world! said I to myself.-Did we but love
grief drew numbers each other as this poor soul loved his ass, —
mur among the rest,'twould be something.
getting ready: as I
post-chaise, I could
heads.
me last from Spain,               NAMPONT.
am the furthest bor-         T      POSTILION.
I had got so far on
his ass died. Every  THE concern which the poor fellow s
know what business story threw me into, required some atten-.d and poor a man so tion: the postilion paid not the least to;i,
own holne.         but set off upon the pave in a full galiou.
[                                   25




290


SENTIM~tENTAL JOURNEY


The thirstiest soul in the most sandy tion,-and of that partictlar kind of it
desert of Arabia could not have wished which told me she had not yet done with
more for a cup of cold water than mine did me. She was as good as her look; for, befor grave and quiet movements; and I fore I quite finished my supper, her broshould have had an high opinion of the ther's servant came into the room with a
postilion, had he but stolen off with me in billet, in which she said she had taken the
something like a pensive pace. On the liberty to charge me with a letter, which 1
contrary, as the mourner finished his lam- was to present myself to Madame R*** the
entation, the fellow gave an unfeeling lash first morning I had nothing to do at Paris.
to each of his -beasts, and set off clattering There was only added, she was sorry, but
like a thousand Devils.               from what penchant she had not considered,
I called to him as loud as I could, for that she had been prevented telling me her
Heaven's sake to go slower-' and the story,-that she still owed it me; and if
louder I called, the more unmercifully he my route should ever lay through Brussels,
galloped. —The deuce take him and his and I had not by then forgot the name of
gaallpilng too, said I, he'll go on tearing Madame de L***,-that Madame de L***
my nerves to pieces till he has worked me would be glad to discharge her obligation.
into a foolish passion, and then he'll go  -Then I will meet thee, said I, fair
slow, that I may enjoy the sweets of it.  spirit! at Brussels; -'tis only returning
The postilion managed the point to a from Italy, through Germany to Holland,
miracle: by the time he had got to the foot by the route of Flanders, home; -'twill
of a steep hill, about half a league from scarce be ten posts out of my way: but
Nampont,-he had put me out of temper were it ten thousand! with what a moral
with him,-and then with myself for be- delight will it crown my journey, in sharing
ing so.                                in the sickening incidents of a tale of
Mly case then required a different treat- misery told to me by such a sufferer! To
ment: and a good rattling gallop would see her weep, and, th'ou6h'T'a'not dry up
have been of real service to me.       the fountain of her tears, what an exquisite
-Then, prithee, get on,-get on, my sensation is there still left, in wiping them
good lad, said I.                      away from of t      se cheeks of the first and
-The postilion pointed to the hill.-I fairest of women, as I'm sitting with my
then tried to return back to the story of the handkerchief in my hand in silence the
poor German and his ass;-but I had broke whole night beside her!
the clue, and could no more get into it  There was nothing wrong in the sent,
again than the postilion could into a trot.  ment; and yet I instantly reproached my
-The deuce go, said I, with it all! Here heart with it in the bitterest and most repam I, sitting as candidly disposed to make robate of expressions.
the best of the worst as ever wight was,  It had ever, as. I told the reader, been
and all runs counter.                 one of the singular blessings of my life, to
There is one sweet lenitive at least for be almost- every hour of it miserably in
evils, which Nature holds out to us: so I love with some one: and my last flame
took it kindly at her hands, and fell asleep; happening to be blown out by a whiff of
and the first word which roused me was jealousy on the sudden turn of a corner, I
Amiens.                               had lighted it up afresh at the pure taper'-'Bless me, said I, rubbing my eyes,-  of Eliza.but about three months before,this is the very town where my poor lady swearing, as I did it, that it should last me
Is to come.                           through the whole journey.-Why should
I dissemble the matter 1 I-had sworn to her
eternal fidelity;-she had a right to my
AIIENS., whole heart:-to divide my affections was
THE words were scarce out of my mouth, to lessen them,-to expose them, was to
when the Count de L***'s post-chaise with risk them; where there is risk,' there may
his sister in it, drove hastily by: she had be loss:-and what wilt thou have, Yorick,
lusl. tirme to make me a bow of recogni- to answer to a heart so full of trust and




THROUGH FRANCE AND ITALY.


291


confidence,-so good, so gentle, and unreproaching!
-I will not go to Brussels, replied I, interrupting myself;-but my imagination
went on,-I recalled her looks at that crisis
of our separation, when neither of us had
power to say adieu! I look'd at the picture
she had tied in a black riband about my
neck,-and blush'd as I look'd at it.- I,would have given the world to have kiss'd
it, - but was ashamed; - and shall this
tender flower, said I, pressing it between.ny hands,-shall it be smitten to its very
root,-and smitten, Yorick! by thee, who
hast promised to shelterif in thy breast?
Eternal Fountain of Happiness! said I,
kneeling down upon the ground,-be thou
my witness,-and every pure spirit which
tastes it, be my witness also, that I would
not travel to Brussels, unless Eliza went
along with me, did the road lead me towards Heaven!
In transports of this kind, the heart, in
spite of the understanding, will always say
loo much.
THE LETTER.
AMIENS.
FORTUNE had not smiled upon La Fleur;
for he had been unsuccessful in his feats of
chivalry,-and not one thing had offered to
signalize his zeal for my service from the
time he had entered into it, which was almost four-and-twenty hours. The poor soul
burn'd with impatience; and the Count de
L-    is servant coming with the letter,
being the first practicable occasion which
offered, La Fleur had laid hold of it, and,
in order'~odo honor to his master, had
taken him into a back-parlor in the auberge,
and treated him with a cup.or two of the
best wine in Picardy; and the Count de
L —'s servant, in return, and not to be
behind-hand in politeness with La Fleur,
had taken him back with him to the Count's
hotel. La Fleur's prevenancy (for there
was a passport in his very looks) soon set
every servant in the kitchen at ease with
him; and as a Frenchman, whatever be
his talents, has no sort of prudery in showing them, La Fleur, in less than five minutes, had pulled out his file, and, leading


off the dance himself with the first note,
set thefille de chambre, the maitre d' hotel,.
the cook, the scullion, and all the house.
hold, dogs and cats, besides an old monkey.
a-dancing! I suppose there never was a
merrier kitchen since the flood.
u-AfMadame de- L-, in passing from her
brother's apartments to her own, hearing
so much jollity below stairs, rung up her
fille de chambre to ask about it; and hearing it was the English gentleman's servant
who had setthe whole house-merry with
his pipe, she ordered him up.
As the poor fellow could not present
himself empty, he had loaden'd himself in
going up stairs with a thousand compliments to Madame de L-, in the part of
his master, -added a long apocrypha of
inquiries after Madame de L-'s health,
told her that Monsieur his master was au
desespoire for her re-establishment from the
fatigues of her journey,-and, to close all,
that Monsieur had received, the' letter
which Madame had done him the honor
-And he has done me the honor, said
Madame de L —, interrupting La Fleur.
to send a billet in return.
Madame de L- had said this with
such a tone of reliance upon the fact, that
La Fleur had not power to disappoint her
expectations;-he trembled for my honor.
-and, possibly, might not altogether be
unconcerned for his own, as a man capable
of being attached to a master who could be
wanting en egards vis d vis d'une femme.
so that, when Madame de L-, —  asked La
Fleur if he had brought a letter,-O qu'oui
said La Fleur; so laying down his hat upon
the ground, and taking hold of the flap of
his right side-pocket with his left hand, he
began to search for the letter with his
right; -then contrariwise. - Diable! -
then sought every pocket, pocket by pocket.
round, not forgetting his fob;-Peste!then La Fleur emptied them   upon the
floor,-pulled out a dirty cravat,-a handkerchief,-a comb,-a whip-lash,-a nigh;t
cap,-then gave a peep into his hat, —
Quelle etourderie! He had left the lettec
upon the table in the auberge; he would
run for it, and be back with it in three
minutes.
I had just finished my supper when La
Fleur came in to give me an account o~f l;




SENTIMENTAL JOURNEY


adventure: he told the whole story simply
as it was; and only added that if Monsieur
had forgot (par hazard) to answer Madame's letter, the arrangement gave him an
opportunity to recover the faux pas;-and
if not, that things were only as they were.
Now, I was not altogether sure of my
etiquette, whether I ought to have wrote or
no; but if I had, -a Devil himself could
not have been angry:'twas but the officious
zeal of a well-meaning creature for my
honor; and however he might have mistook
the road, or embarrassed me in so doing,his heart was in no fault,-I was under no
necessity to write;-and, what weighed
more than all,-he did not look as if he had
done amiss.'Tis all very well, La Fleur, said I.-'Twas sufficient.' La Fleur flew out of the
room like lightning, and return'd, with pen,
ink, and paper, in his hand; and coming up
to the table, laid them close before me, with
such a delight in his countenance, that I
could not help taking up the pen.
I began, and began again; and though I
had nothing to say, and that nothing might
have been expressed in half a dozen lines, I
made half a dozen different beginnings, and
could no way please myself.
In short, I was in no mood to write.
La Fleur stepp'd out and brought a little
water in a glass to dilute my ink,-then
fetch'd sand and seal-wax.-It was all one;
I wrote, and blotted, and tore off, and burnt,
and wrote again. -Le Diableemport
said I half to myself,-I cannot write this
self-same letter, throwing the pen down
despairingly as I said it.
As soon as I had cast down my pen, La
Fleur advanced with the most respectful
carriage up to the table, and making a thousand apologies for the liberty he was going
to take, told me he had a letter in his pocket, wrote by a drummer in his regiment to
a corporal's wife, which, he durst say, would
suit the occasion.
I had a mind to let the poor fellow have
lls humor.-Then prithee, said I, let me
see it.
La Fleur instantly pulled out a little
<nrty pocket-book, cramm'd full of small letters and billet-doux in a sad condition, and
alying it upon the table, and then untying,ae string which held them all altogether,


ran them over, one by one, till he came to the
letter in question,-La voila, said he, clapping his hands; so unfolding it first, he laid
it before me, and retired three steps from
the table whilst I read it.
THE LETTER.
MADAME,
JE suis penetre de la douleur la plus vive,
et reduit en meme temps au desespoir par
ce retour imprevuf du Corporal, qui rend
notre entrevue de ce soir la chose du monde
la plus impossible.
Mais vive la joie! et toute la mienne sera
de penser a vous.
L'amour n'est rien sans sentiment.
Et le sentiment est encore moins sans
amour.
On dit qu'on ne doit jamais se desesperer,
On dit aussi que Monsieur le Corporal
monte le garde Mercredi: alors ce sera mon
tour.
Chacun a son tour.
En attendant,-vive l'amour! et vive lo
bagatelle!
Je suis, Madame,
Avec toutes les sentiments
les plus respectueux et les
tendres, tout a 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
honor, his own, and the honor of his letter,
-I took the cream gently off it,-and whipping it up in my own way,-seal'd it up,
and sent 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 on all floundering before him with half a dozen lackeys 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.




THROUGH FRANCE AND ITALY.


293


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 perpendicularly amongst'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 visors, - the young,
in armor bright, which shone like gold, beylumed with each gay feather of the east,0il-all-tilting at it like fascinated knights
~ai tournaments of yore for fame and love.
- Alas, poor Yorick! cried I, what art,hou doing here? On the very first onset of
dl1 this glittering clatter, thou art reduced,o an atom;-seek,-seek some winding
alley, with a tourniquet at the end of it,
where chariot never rolled, nor 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 -a.letter which I had to present to Madame de R *        *.- I'l ait — 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 zither 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 immerge 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 minutice, than in the
most important matters of state; where great
men of all nations talk and talk so much
alike, that I would not give ninepence to
choose among them.
I was so long in getting from under my
barber's hands, that it was too late to think
of going with my letter to Madame R -
that night: but, when a man is once dressed
at all points for going out, his reflections
turn to little account; so taking down the
name of the Hotel de Modene, where 1
lodged, I walked forth, without any determination where to go; I shall consider ot
that, said I, as I walk along.
THE PULSE.
PARIS.
HAIL, ye small sweet courtesies of site.
for smooth do you make the road of it! like
25*




294


SENTIMENTAL JOURNEY


grace and beauty, which beget inclinations
to love at first sight:'tis ye who open this
door, and let the stranger in.,a-  I 1I.I  i  I, 1  _ 1




— rray, IvlMaame, saml 1, nave tne gooaness to tell me which way I must turn to
go to the Opera Comiqete.-Most willingly,
Monsieur, said she, laying aside her work.
I had given a cast with my eye into half
a dozen shops as I came along, in search of
a face not likely to be disordered by such
an interruption; till, at last, this hitting my
fancy, I had walked in.
She was working a pair of ruffles as she
sat in a low chair on the far side of the
shop facing the door.
-Tres volontiers; most willingly, said
she, laying her work down upon a chair next
her, and rising up from the low chair she
was sitting in, with so cheerful a movement
and so cheerful a look, that, had I been laying out fifty Louis d'ors with her, I should
have said-" This woman is grateful."
You must turn, Monsieur, said she, going
with me to the door of the shop, and pointing the way down the street I was to take,
-you must turn first to your left hand,mais prenez garde,-there are two turns;
and be so good as to take the second,-then
go down a little way, and you'll'see a church,
and when you are past it, give yourself the
trouble to turn directly to the right, and
that will lead you to the foot of the Pont
Neuf, which you must cross, and there any
one will do himself the pleasure to show
you.
She repeated her instructions three times
over to me, with the same good-natur'd patience the third time as the first;-and if
tones and manners have a meaning, which
certainly they have, unless to hearts which
shut them out,-she seemed really interested that I should not losemyself.
I will not suppose it was the woman's
beauty, notwithstanding she was the handsomest grisette, I think, I ever saw, which
had much to do r;th the sense I had of her
courtesy, only I remember, when I told her
how much I was obliged to her, that I looked
very full in her eyes,-and that I repeated
my thanks as often as she had done her instructions.
I had not got ten paces from the door, belore I found I had forgot every tittle of what
bphe had said:- so looking back, and seeing


her still standing in the door of the shop, as
if to look whether I went right or not,-l
returned back, to ask her whether the first
turn was to my right or left, for that I had
absolutely forgot.-Is it possible! said she,
half laughing.-'Tis very possible,,replied
I, when a man is thinking more of a woman
than of her good advice.
As this was the real truth, she took it, as
every woman takes a matter of right, with
a slight curtsey.
-Attendez, said she, laying her hand
upon my arm to detain me, whilst she called
a lad out of the back-shop to get ready a
parcel of gloves. I am just going to send
him, said she, with a packet into that quarter; and if you will have the complaisance
to step in, it will be ready in a moment, and
he shall attend you to the place. So I walked
in with her to the far side of the shop; and
taking up the ruffle in my hands which she
laid upon the chair, as if I had a mind to sit,
she sat down herself in her low chair, and
I instantly sat myself down beside her.
He will be ready, Monsieur, said she, in
a moment.-And in that moment, replied I,
most willingly would I say something very
civil to you for all these courtesies. Any
one may do a casual act of good-nature, but
a continuation of them shows it is a part of
the temperature; and, certainly, added I,
if it is the same blood which comes from the
heart, which descends to the extremes
(touching her wrist) I am sure you must
have one of the best pulses of any woman
in the world.-Feel it, said she, holding out
her arm. So laying down my hat, I took
hold of her fingers in one hand, and applied
the two fore-fingers of my other to the artery.Would to Heaven! my dear Eugenius,
thou hadst passed by, and beheld me sitting
in my black coat, and in my lack-a-day-sical
manner, counting the throbs of it, one by
one, with as much true devotion as if I had
been watching the critical ebb or flow of
her fever! How wouldst thou have Irughed
and moralized upon my new profession!and thou shouldst have laughed and moralized on.-Trust me, my dear Eugenius, I
should have said "there are worse occupa" tions in this world thanfeeling a woman's
"pulse."-But a grisette's! thou wouldst
have said,-and in an open shop, Yorick!



II
*.1


ji,/  1t!. I,, I
I c~n"S


THE WIDOW.
" I am sure you must have one of the best pulses of any woman in the world."-p 294.
CJ-6l,5 k )








THROUGH FRANCE AND ITALY.


295


-So much the better: for when my
views are direct, Eugenius, I,are not if all
the world saw me feel it.
THE HUSBAND.
PARIS.
I HAD counted twenty pulsations, and
was going on fast towards the fortieth,
when her husband coming unexpected from
a back-parlor into the shop, put me a little
out in my reckoning.-'Twas nobody but
her husband, she said-so I began a fresh
score.-Monsieur is so good, quoth she, as
he passed by us, as to give himself the
trouble of feeling my pulse.-The husband
book off his hat, and making me a bow,
said, I did him too much honor; and having
said that, he put on his hat and walked out.
Good God! said I to myself, as he went
out,-and can this man be the husband of
tnis woman!
Let it not torment the few who know
what must have been the grounds of this
exclamation, if I explain it to those who do
not.
In London, a shopkeeper and a shopkeeper's wife seem to be one bone and one
flesh. In the several endowments of mind
and body, sometimes the one, sometimes
the other, has it, so as in general to be upon
a par, and to tally with each other as nearly as a man and wife need to do.
In Paris, there are scarce two orders of
beings more different; for the legislative
and executive powers of the shop not resting in the husband, he seldom comes there:
-in some dark and dismal room behind, he
sits commerceless in his thrum night-cap,
the same rough son of Nature that Nature
left him.
The genius of a people where nothing
but the monarchy is salique, having ceded
this department, with sundry others, totally
to the women-by a continual higgling
with customers of all ranks and sizes from
morning to night, like so many rough pebbles shook long together in a. bag, by amicable collisions, they have worn down their
asperities and sharp angles, and not only
become round and smooth, but will receive,
some of them, a polish like a brilliant

Monsieur le Alarli is little better than the
stone under your foot.
-Surely,-surely, man! it is not good
for thee to sit alone; thou wast made for
social intercourse and gentle greetings;
and this improvement of our natures from
it, I appeal to, as my evidence.
-And how does it beat, Monsieur? said
she.-With all the benignity, said I, looking quietly in her eyes, that I expected.She was going to say something civil in
return, but Jhe lad came into the shop with
the gloves.-Apropos, said I, I want a couple of pairs myself.
THE GLOVES.
PARIS.
THE beautiful grisette rose up when I
said this, and, going behind the counter,
reached down a parcel, and untied it: I
advanced to the side over-against her: but
they were all too large. The beautiful
grisette measured them one by one across
my hand.-It would not alter the dimensions.-She begged I would try a single
pair, which seemed to be the least.-She
held it open;-my hand slipped into it at
once,-It will not do, said I, shaking my
head a little.-No, said she, doing the same
thing.
There are certain combined looks of simple
subtlety, -where whim, and sense, and
seriousness, and nonsense, are so blended,
that all the languages of Babel set loose
together, could not express them: — they
are communicated and caught so instantaneously, that you can scarce say which party
is the infector. I leave it to your men of words
to swell pages about it,-it is enough in the
present to say again, the gloves would not
do; so folding our hands within our arms,
we both loll'd upon the counter;-it was
narrow, and there was just room for the
parcel to lay between us.
The beautiful grisette looked sometimes
at the gloves, then sideways to the window,
then at the gloves,-and then at me. I was
not disposed to break silence;-I followed
her example: so I looked at the gloves.
then to the window, then at the gloves, and
then at her-ar.d so on alternately.




296


SENTIMENTAL JOURNEY


I found I lost considerably in every at-  Translate this into any civilized language
tack:-she had a quick black eye, and shot in the world, the sense is this:through two such long and silken eye-lashes  "Here's a poor stranger come into the
with such penetration, that she looked into "box; he seems as if he knew nobody; and
my very heart and reins.-It may seem "is never likely, was he to be seven years
strange; but I could actually feel she did. "in Paris, if every man he comes near
It is no matter, said I, taking up a couple " keeps his spectacles upon his nose:-'tis
of the pairs next me, and putting them "shutting thre door of conversation absointo my pocket.                       "lutely in his face, and using him worse
I was sensible the beautiful grisette had " than a German."
not asked a single livre above the price. I  The French officer might as well have
wished she had asked a livre more; and said it all aloud: and if he had, I should inwas puzzling my brains how to bring the course have put the bow I made him into
matter about.-Do you think, my dear Sir, French too, and told him, "I was sensible
said she, mistaking my embarrassment, that "of his attention, and returned him a thou,
I could ask a sous too much of a stranger "sand thanks for it."
-and of a stranger whose politeness, more  There is not a secret so aiding to the
than his want of gloves, has done me the progress of sociality, as to get master of
honor to lay himself at my mercy!-M'en this short-hand, and to be quick in rendercroyez capable?-Faith! not I, said I; and ing the several turns of looks and limbs,
if you were, you are welcome. So counting with all their inflections and delineations,
the money into her hand, and with a lower into plain words. For my own part; by long
bow than one generally makes to a shop- habitude, I do it so mechanically, that when
keeper's wife, I went out; and her lad with I walk the streets of London, I go transhis parcel followed me.               lating all the way; and have more than
once stood behind the circle, where not
three words have been said, and have
THE TRANSLATION.               brought off twenty different/dialogues with
me, which I could have fairly wrote down
PARIS.                and sworn to.
THERE was nobody in the box I was let  I was going one evening to Martini's
into, but a kindly old French officer. I love concert at Milan, and was just entering the
the character, not only because I honor the door of the hall, when the Marquisina de


man whose manners are softened by a profession which makes bad men worse, but
that I once knew one,-for he is no more,
-and why should I not rescue one page
from violation by writing his name in it,
and telling the world it was Captain Tobias
Shandy, the dearest of my flock and friends,
whose philanthropy I never think of at this
long distance from his death, but my eyes
gush out with tears. For his sake, I have a
predilection for the whole corps of veterans;
and so I strode over the two back rows of
benches, and placed myself beside him.
The old officer was reading attentively
a small pamphlet (it might be the book of
the opera) with a large pair of spectacles.
As soon as I sat down, he took his spectacles off, and putting them into a shagreen
case, returned them and the book into his
nocket together. I half rose up, and made
im a oovv


F*** was coming out, in a sort of a hurry:
-she was almost upon me before I saw her:
so I gave a spring to one side to let her
pass. She had done the same, and on the
same side too: so we ran our heads together:
she instantly got to the other side to get
out; I was just as unfortunate as she had
been; for I had sprung to that side, and
opposed her passage again. We both flew
together to the other side, and then back,
-and so on:-it was ridiculous; we both
blushed intolerably; so I did at last the
thing I should have done at first;-I stood
stock still, and the Marquisina had no more
difficulty. I had no power to go into the
room till I had made her so much reparation
as to wait and follow her with my eye to the
end of the passage. She looked back twice,
and walked along it rather sideways, as if
she would make room for any one coming
up stairs to pass her.-No, said I, that's a




THROUGH FRANCE AND ITALY.


297


vile translation: the Marquisina has a right
to the best apology I can make her; and
that opening is left for me to do it in:-so
I ran and begged pardon for the embarrassment I had given her, saying it was my
intention to have made her way. She answered she was guided by the same intention towards me;- so we reciprocally
thanked each other. She was at the top of:he stairs; and seeing no cicisbeo near her,
begged to hand her to her coach; so we
went down the stairs, stopping at every
(hird step to talk of the concert and the adventure.-Upon my word, Madam, said I,
when I had handed her in, I made six different efforts to let you go out.-And I made
six efforts, replied she, to let you enter.-I
wish to Heaven you would make a seventh,
said I.-With all my heart, said she, making
room. Life i         Js nha   _gbout
che forms of it;_-_o I instantly stepped in,
end she carried me home with her.-And
vhat became of the concert? St. Cecilia,


who. I suppose, was at it, knows more than I.
I will only add, that the connexion which
arose out of the translation, gave me more
pleasure than any one I had the honor to
make in Italy.


see so many miserables, by force of accidents, driven out of their own proper class
into the very verge of another, which it
gives me pain to write down:-every third
man a pigmy!-some by rickety heads
and hump-backs;-others by bandy-legs;a third set arrested by the hand of Nature
in the sixth and seventh years of their
growth;-a fourth, in their perfect and
natural state, like dwarf apple-trFes; from
the first rudiments and stamina of their
existence, never meant to grow higher.
A Medical Traveller might say,'tis
owing to undue bandages;-a Splenetic
one, to want of air;-and an Inquisitive
Travellei t, fortify the system, may measure the he ght of their houses,-the narrowness of their streets, and in how few
feet square in the sixth and seventh stories
such numbers of the Bourgeozsie eat and
sleep together. But I remember, Mr. Shandy
the Elder, who accounted for nothing like
any body else, in speaking one evening of
these matters, averred, That children, like
other animals, might be increased almost
to any size, provided they came right into
the world; but the misery was, the citizens
of Paris were so coop'd up, that they had
not actually room enough to get them.-1
do not call it getting any thing said he;-'tis getting nothing. -Nay, continued he,
rising in his argument,'tis getting worse
than nothing, when all you have got, after
twenty or twenty-five years of the tenderest
care and most nutritious aliment bestowed
upon it, shall not at last be as high as my
leg. Now Mr. Shandy being very short,
there could be nothing more said of it.
As this is not a work of reasoning, I leave
the solution as I found it, and content myself with the truth only of the remark, which
is verified in every lane and by-lane of
Paris. I was walking down that which
leads from the Carousal to the Palais Royal,
and observing a little boy in some distress
at the side of the gutter which ran down
the middle of it, I took hold of his hand and
help'd him over. Upon turning up his face
to look at him after, I perceived he was
about forty. - Never mind, said I, some
good body will do as much for me when I
am ninety.
I feel some little principies within me,
which incline me to be merciful towards


T1iE DTIARF.
PARIS.
I HAD never heard the remark made by
any one in my life, except by one; and who
that was, will probably come out in this
chapter; so that being pretty much unprepossessed, there must have been grounds
for what struck me the moment I cast my
eye over the parterre,-and that was, the
unaccountable sport of Nature in forming
such numbers of dwarfs. -No doubt, she
sports at certain times in almost every
corner of the world; but in Paris, there is
no end to her amusements.-The Goddess
seems almost as merry as she is wise.
As I carried my idea out of the Opera
Comique with me, I measured eveiy body
I saw walking in the streets by it.-Melancholy applicati,n! especially where the size
was extremely little,-the face extremely
dark,-the eyes quick, -the nose long,the teeth white,-the jaw prominent,-to
2N




298                     SENTIMENTA
this poor blighted part of my species, who
have neither size nor strength to get on in
the world. - Icannot bear to see one of
them trod upon; and had scarce got seated
behind my old French officer ere the disgust was exercised, by seeing the very
thing happen under the box we sat in.
At the end of the orchestra, and betwixt
that and the first side-box, there is a small
esplanade left, where, when the house is
full, numbers of all ranks take sanctuary.
Though you stand, as in the parterre, you
pay the same price as in the orchestra. A
poor defenceless being of this order had got
thrust, somehow or other, into this luckless
place;-the night was hot, and he was surrounded by beings two feet and a half


higher than himself  The dwarf suffered
inexpressibly on all sides; but the thing
which incommoded him most, was a tall,
corpulent German, near seven feet high,
who stood directly betwixt him and all possibility of his seeing either the stage or the
actors. The poor dwarf did all he could to
get a peep at what was going forwards, by
seeking for some little opening betwixt the
German's arm and his body, trying first on
one side, then on the other; but the German stood square in the most unaccommodating posture that can be imagined:-the
dwarf might as well have been placed at
the bottom of the deepest draw-well in
Paris; so he civilly reach'd up his hand to
the German's sleeve, and told him his distress.-The German turn'd his head back,
look'd down upon him as Goliah did upon
David,-and unfeelingly resumed his posture.
i was just then taking a pinch of snuff
out of my monk's little horn-box.-And how
would thy meek and courteous spirit, my
dear monk! so temper'd to bear and forbear!-how sweetly would it have lent an
ear to this poor soul's complaint.
The old French officer seeing me lift up
mly eyes with an emotion, as I made the
apostrophe, took the liberty to ask me what
was the matter -I told him the story in
three words, and added, how inhuman it
was.
By this time the dwarf was driven to extremes, and in his first transports, which
are generally unreasonable, had told the
German he would cut off his long queue,L JOURNEY
with his knife.-The German look'd back
coolly, and told him he was welcome, if he
could reach it.
An injury sharpened by an insult, be it
to whom it will, makes every man of sentiment a party: I could have leap'd out of
the box to have redressed it.-The old
French officer did it with much less confusion; for leaning a little over, and nodding
to a sentinel, and pointing at the same time
with his finger at the distress,-the sentinel
made his way to it.-There was no occasion
to tell the grievance-the thing told itself;
so thrusting back the German instantly
with his musket,-he took the poor dwarf
by the hand, and placed him before him.This is noble! said 1, clapping my hands
together.-And yet you would not permit
this, said the old officer, in England.
-In England, dear Sir, said I, we sit all
at our ease.
The old French officer would have set
me at unity with myself, in case I had been
at variance,-by saying it was a bon mot;
-and as a bon mot is always worth something in Paris, he offered me a pinch of
snuff.
THE ROSE.
PARIS.
IT was now my turn to ask the old French
officer, "What was the matter?" for a cry
of " Haussez les mains, Monsieur l'Abbe,"
re-echoed fiom a dozen different parts of the
parterre, was as unintelligible to me as my
apostrophe to the monk had been to him.
He told me it was some poor Abb6 in one
of the upper loges, who he supposed had got
planted perdu behind a couple of grisettes,
in order to see the opera, and that the parterre espying him, were insisting upon his
holding up both his hands during the representation.-And can it be supposed, said I,
that an ecclesiastic would pick the grisettes'
pockets?-The old French officer smiled,
and whispering in my ear, opened a door
of knowledge which I had no idea of.
-Good God! said I,turning pale with
astonishment, is it possible, that a people so
smit with sentiment should at the same
time be so unclean, and so unlike them
selves.- Quelle grossierte! added I.




THROUGH FRANCE AND ITALY.                           299
-The French officer told me it was an  It is alike troublesome to both the rider
illiberal sarcasm at the church, which had and his beast,-if the latter goes pricking
begifun in the theatre about ne time thie up his ears, and starting; all the way at
Tartuffe was given in it, by Moliere:-but, every object which he never saw before.like other remains of Gothic manners, was I have as little torment of this kind as any
declining. -Every nation, continued he, creature alive; and yet 1 honestly confess,
have their refinements and grossiertes, in that many a thing gave me pain, and that
which they take the lead, and lose it of one I blush'd at many a word the first month,
another by turns;-that he had been in most -which I found inconsequent and percountries, but never in one where he found fectly innocent the second.
not some delicacies, which others seemed  Madame de Rambouilet, after an acto want. Le pour et le contre se trouvant quaintance of about six weeks with her,
en chaque nation; there is a balance, said had done me the honor to take-me in her
he, of good and bad everywhere; and no- coach about two leargues out of town.-Ot
tting but the knowing it is so, can emanci- all women, Madame de Rambouilet is the
pate one half of the world from the prepos- most correct;-and I never wish to see one
session which it holds against the other:- of more virtues and purity of heart. -In
that the advantage of travel, as it regarded our return back, Madame de Rambouilet
the scavoir vivre, was by seeing a great desired me to pull the cord.-I asked her
deal both of men and manners; it taught if she wanted any thing?-Rien que pour
us mutual toleration; and mutual toleration, pisser, said Madame de Rambouilet.
concluded he, making me a bow, taught us  Grieve not, gentle traveller, to let Mamutual love.                           dame de Rambouilet p-ss on.-And ye
The old French officer delivered this fair mystic nymphs, go each one pluck your
with an air of such candor and good sense, rose, and scatter them in your path,-for
as coincided with my first favorable im- Madame de Rambouilet did no more.-I
pressions of his character:-I thought I handed Madame de Rambouilet out of the
loved the man; but I fear I mistook the coach; and had I been the priest of the
object:-'twas my own way of thinking,- chaste Castalia, I could not have served
the difference was, I could not have ex- at her fountain with a more respectfi;l deoressed it half so well.               corum.




A


SENTIMENIMENTAL JOURNEY
THROUGH
fratnce anly stats%


THE FILLE DE CHAMBRE.
PARIS.
WHAT the old French officer had delivered upon travelling, bringing Polonius's
advice to his son, upon the same subject,
into my head,-anld that bringing in Hamlet,-and Hamlet the rest of Shakspeare's
%Works, I stopt at the Quai de Conti, in my
return home, to purchase the whole set.
The bookseller said he had not a set in
the world.-Comment! said I, taking one
up out of a set which lay upon the counter
betwixt us.-He said, they were sent him
only to be got bound; and were to be sent
back to Versailles in the morning to the
Count de B****.
-And does the Count de B****, said I,
read Shakspeare?- C'est unz Esprit fort,
replied the bookseller. —He loves ]English
looks; and, what is more to his honor,
Monsieur, he loves the English too.-You
speak this so civilly, said I, that it is enough
to oblige an Englishman to lay out a Louis
d'or or two at your shop.-The bookseller
made a bow, and was going to say something, when a young decent girl, about
twenty, who by her air and dress seemed to
be fille de chambre to some devout woman
of fashion, came into the shop and asked
for Les Egarements du Coeur 4k de l'Esprit. The bookseller gave her the book
directly; she pulled out a little green satin
purse run round with a riband of the same
color and putting her finger and thumb
into it, she took out the money and paid
for it. As I had nothing more to stay me
in the shop, we both walk'd out of the door
%ogether.
-And what have you to do. my dear,
said I, with TPle Wl/anderings of the Heart,


who scarce know yet you have one! Dor
till Love has first told you it, or some,,
faithless shepherd has made it ache, canst
thou ever be sure it is so.-Le Dieu gn'en
garde! said the girl. —-—:With reason, saia
1; for if it is. a good one,'tis a pity it
should be stolen;'tis a little treasure to
thee, and gives a better air to your face,
than if it was dress'd out with pearls.
The young girl listened with a submissive attention, holding her satin purse by
its ribaDd in her hand all the time.-'Tis
a very small one, said 1, tal-IDY hold of the
bottom of it-(she held it towards me)and there is very little in it,'my dear, said
I` but be but as good as thou art handsome,
and Heaven will fill it. I bad a parcel of
crowns in my hand to pay for Shakspeare;
and as she had let go the purse entirely, I
put a single one in; and tyino up the riband in a bow-knot, returned it to her.
The YOUDg girl made me more an humble
curtsey than a low one;-'twas one of those
quiet, thankful sinkings, where the spirit
bows itself down,-the body does no, more
than tell it. I never gave a girl a crown
in my life which gave me half the pleasure.
My advice, my dear, would not have been
worth a pin to you, said 1, if I had not given
this along with it: but now, when you see
the crown, you'll remember it:-so don't,
my dear, lay it out in ribands.
-Upon my word, Sir, said the girl, earn
estly, I am incapable;-in saying which, as
is usual in little bargains of honor, she gave
me her hand: En verit6, Mo'nsieur, je mettrai cet argent apart, said she.
When a virtuous convention is made betwixt man and woman, it sanctifies their
most private walks; so Dotwithstanding it
was dusky, yet as both our roads lay the


who scarce know yet you have one  nor
till Love has first told you it, or some
faithless shepherd has made it ache, canst
thou ever be sure it is so.-Le Dieu rn'en
garde! said the girl. —With reason, saia
I; for if it is a good one,'tis a pity it
should be stolen;'tis a little treasure to
thee, and gives a better air to your face,
than if it was dress'd out with pearls.
The young girl listened with a submissive attention, holding her satin purse by
its riband in her hand all the time.-'Tis
a very small one, said I, taking hold of the
bottom of it-(she held it towards me)and there is very little in it, my dear, said
I; but be but as good as thou art handsome,
and Heaven will fill it. I had a parcel of
crowns in my hand to pay for Shakspeare;
and as she had let go the purse entirely, I
put a single one in; and tying up the riband in a bow-knot, returned it to her.
The young girl made me more an humble
curtsey than a low one;-'twas one of those
quiet, thankful sinkings, where the spirit
bows itself down,-the body does no, more
than tell it. I never gave a girl a crown
in my life which gave me half the pleasure.
My advice, my dear, would not have been
worth a pin to you, said I, if I had not given
this along with it: but now, when you see
the crown, you'll remember it; —so don't,
my dear, lay it out in ribands.
— Upon my word, Sir, said the girl, earn
estly, I am incapable;-in saying which, as
is usual in little bargains of honor, she gave
me her hand: En veritd, Monsieur, je mettrai cet argent apart, said she.
When a virtuous convention is made betwixt man and woman, it sanctifies their
most private walks; so notwithstanding it
was dusky, yet as both our roads lay the




TIlH)OUGH FRANCE AND ITALY.


31s1


same way, we made no scruple of walking arm.-I was just bidding her,-but she did
along the Quai de Conti together.      it of herself, with -that undeliberating simShe made me a second curtsey in setting plicity, which show'd it was out of her head
off; and before we got twenty yards from that she had never seen me before. For
the door, as if she had not done enough be- my own part, I felt the conviction of confore, she made a sort of a little stop, to tell sanguinity so strongly, that I could not help
me again-she thank'd me.               turning half round to look in her face, and
-It was a small tribute, I told her, which see if I could trace out any thing in it of a
I could not avoid paying to virtue, and family-likeness.-Tut! said I, are we not
would not be mistaken in the person I had all relations 1
been rendering it to for the world; but I  When we arrived at the turning up of
see innocence, my dear, in your face,-and the Rue de Guenegault, I stopp'd to bid ver
foul befall the man who ever lays a snare adieu for good and all; the girl would thank
in its way!                            me again for my company and kindness. —
The girl seem'd affected, some way or She bid me adieu twice;-I repeated it as
other, with what I said;-she gave a low often; and so cordial was the parting besigh:-I found I was not empowered to in- tween us, that had it happened anywhere
quire at all after it,-so said nothing more else, I'm not sure but I should have signed
till I got to the corner of the Rue de Nev- it with a kiss of charity, as warm and holy
ers, where we were to part.            as an apostle.
-But is this the way, my dear, said I, to  But in Paris, as none kiss each other but
the Hotel de Modene?-She told me it was; the men,-I. did what amounted to the same
-or that I might go by the Rue de Guene- thing,gault, which was the next turn.-Then I'll  I bid God bless her!
go, my dear, by the Rue de Guenegault,
said I, for two reasons: first, I shall please
myself; and next, I shall give you the pro-      THE PASSPORT.
tection of my company as far on your way
as I can.-The girl was sensible I was civil,           PARIS.
-and said, She wish'd the Hotel de Mo-   WHEN I got home to my hotel, La Fleui
dene was in the Rue de St. Pierre.-You told me 1 had been inquired after by the
live there! said.L-She told me she was Lieutenant de Police.-The deuce take it,
fille de chambre to Madame R****. Good said I,-I know the reason. It is time the
God! said I,'tis the very lady for whom I reader should know it; for in the order of
have brought a letter from Amiens.-The things in which it happened, it was omitted;
girl told me that Madame R****, she be- not that it was out of my head; but, that
lieved, expected a stranger with a letter, had I told it then, it might have been forgol
and was impatient to see him.-So I de- now; —and now is the time I want it.
sired the girl to present my compliments to  I had left London with so much precipi.
Madame R****, and say I would certainly tation, that it never entered my mind thai
wait upon her in the morning.          we were at war with France; and hac
We stood still at the corner of the Rue reached Dover, and looked through In)
de Nevers whilst this pass'd. —We then glass at the hills beyond Boulogne, before
stopped a moment whilst she disposed of her the idea presented itself; and with this ir
Egarements du Cceur, &c. more commodi- its train, that there was no getting thenr
ously than carrying them in her hand:-  without a passport. Go but to the end of.
they were two volumes,;-so I held the street, ~ avee a mortal aversion for return
second for her whilst she put the first into ing back no wiser than I set out; and a,
her pocket; and then she held her pocket, this was one of the greatest efforts I ha(
and I put in the other after it.       ever made for knowledge, I could less bea'Tis sweet to feel by what fine-spun the thoughts of it; so hearing the Count d,
threads our affections are drawn together! **** had hired the packet, I begg'd he wou.
We set off afresh; and as she took her take me in his suite. The Count had som,
third step, the girl out her hand within my little knowledge of me, so made little or r,
26




I
L
I
t
I
r
1
II
C




302


SENTIMENTAL JOUERNEY


diffic lty, —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 pass'd
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 le Count, said I,-and I
shall do very well. So I embarked, and
never thought more of the matter.
When La Fleur told me the Lieutenant
de 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 room 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; —nd poor La Fleur advanced three steps towards me, and with
that sort of movement which a good soul
makes to succor 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.
3Mon &eineur! 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 (apparemment) 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 Bastile, or the
Chatelet, au moins.-Poo! said I, the King
of France is a good-natured soul, - he'll
hurt nobody.  Cela n'empeche pas, said
he,-you will certainly be sent to the Bastile to-morrow morning. But I've taken
yodr lodgings for a month, answered I, and
I'll not quit them a day before the time for
all the Kings of France in the world.-La
Fleer whispered in my ear,-That nobody
could oppose the King of France.
Pardi, said my host, ces M3essieurs Any lois sont des gens tres extraordinaires;
— and having both said and sworn it,-he
weTnt net.


THE PASSPORT.
THE HOTEL AT PARIS.


I COULD not find in my heart to torture
La Fleur's with a serious look upon the
subject of my embarrassment, which was
the reason I had treated it so cavalierly;
and to show him how light it lay upon my
mind, I dropped the subject entirely; and
whilst he waited upon me at supper, talk'd
to him with more than usual gaiety about
Paris, and of the Opera Comique. - La
Fleur had been there himself, and had followed me through the streets as far as the
bookseller's shop; but seeing me come out
with the young fille de chambre, and that
we walk'd down the Quai de Conti together, La Fleur deem'd it unnecessary to
follow me a step further,-so making his
own reflections upon it, he took a shorter
cut,-and got to the hotel in time to be inform'd of the affair of the police against
my arrival.
As soon as the honest creature had taken
away, and gone down to sup himself, I then
began to think a little seriously about my
situation.
-And here, I know, Eugenius, thou wilt
smile at the remembrance of a short dialogue which pass'd betwixt us the moment
I was going to set out:-I must tell it here.
Eugenius, knowing that I was as little
subject to be overburthen'd with money as
thought, had drawn me aside to interrogate
me how much I had taken care for. Upon
telling him the exact sum, Eugenius shook
his head, and said, it would not do; so
pull'd out his purse, in order to empty it
into mine. -I've enough, in conscience,
Eugenius, said I. -Indeed, Yorick, you
have not, replied Eugenius,-I know France
and Italy better than you.-But you dor.''
consider, Eugenius, said I, refusing his offer,
that before I have been three days in Paris,
I shall take care to say or do something or
other for which I shall get clapp'd up into
the Bastile, and that I shall live there a
couple of months entirely at the King of
France's expense.-I beg pardon, said Eugenius, drily: really, I had forgot that resource.
Now the event I treated gaily, came se
riously to my doer.




THROUGH FRANCE AND ITALY.


303




Is it folly, or nonchalance, or philosophy,  I stood looking at the bird: and to every
or pertinacity:-or what is it in me, that person who came through the passage, it
after all, when La Fleur had gone down ran fluttering to the side towards which
stairs, and I was quite alone, I could not they approach'd it, with the same lamentabring down my mind to think of it other- tion of its captivity,-" I can't get out,"
wise than I had then spoken of it, to Eu- said the starling.-God help thee! said I,genius T                               but I'll let thee out, cost what it will; so I
-And as for the Bastile,-the terror is turned about the cage to get the door: it
in the word.-Make the most of it you can, was twisted and double twisted so fast with
asaid I to myself, the Bastile is but another wire, there was no getting it open without
word for a tower;-and a tower is but pulling the cage to pieces.-I took both
another word for a house you can't get out hands to it.
of.-Mercy on the gouty! for they are in it  The bird flew to the place where I was
twice a year.-But with nine livres a day, attempting his deliverance, and thrusting
and pen and ink and paper and patience, his head through the trellis, pressed his
albeit a man can't get out, he may do very breast against it, as if impatient.-I fear,
well within,-at least for a month or six poor creature, said 1, I cannot set thee at
weeks; at the end of which, if he is a liberty.-" No," said the starling; "I can't
harmless fellow, his innocence appears, and "get out,-I can't get out," said the starling.
lie comes out a better and wiser man than  I vow I never had' my affections more
ne went in.                           tenderly awakened; nor do I remember an
I had some occasion, (I forget what) to incident in my life wihere the dissipated
step into the court-yard, as I settled this spirits to which my reason had been a bubble,
account; and remember I walked down were so suddenly call'd home. Mechanical
stairs in no small triumph with the conceit as the notes were, yet so true in tune to
of my reasoning. -Beshrew the sombre nature were they chanted, that in one mopencil! said I, vauntingly,-for I,envy not ment they overthrew all my systematic
its power, which paints the evils of life reasonings upon the Bastile; and I heavily
with so hard and deadly a coloring.-The walk'd up stairs, unsaying every word I had
mind sits terrified at the objects she has said in going down them.
magnified herself, and blackened: reduce  Disguise thyself as thou wilt, still,
them to their proper size and hue, she over- Slajyvry, said I, - still thou art a bitter
looks them.-'Tis true, said I, correcting draught! and though thousands in all ages
the proposition,-the Bastile is not an evil have'-been made to drinkof thee, thou art
to be despised.-But strip it of its towers, no less bitter on that account.-'Tis thou,
-fill up the foss6,-unbarricade the doors, thrice sweet and gracious goddess, address-call it simply a confinement, and suppose ing myself to Liberty, whom all in public
tis some tyrant of a distemper,-and not or in private worship, whose taste is grateof a man, which holds you in it,-the evil ffil, and ever will be so, till Nature herself
vanishes, and you bear the other half with- shall change. No tint of words'can spot
out complaint.                        thy snowy mantle, or chymic power turn
I was interrupted in the hey-day of this thy sceptre into iron;-with thee to smile
soliloquy, with a voice which I took to be upon him as he eats his crust, the swain is
of a child, which complained " it could not happier than his monarch, from whose court
"get out."-I look'd up and down the pas- thou art exiled.-Gracious Heaven! cried
sage, and seeing neither man, woman, nor I, kneeling down upon the last step but one
child, I went out without further attention. in my ascent, grant me but health, thou
in my return back through the passage, great Bestower of it, and give me but this
I heard the same words repeated twice fair goddess as my companion,-and shower
over; and looking up, I saw it was a star- down thy mitres, if it seems good unro thy
ling hung in a little cage.-" I can't get Divine Providence, upon those heau.s whichI
"out,-I can't get out," said the starling.  are aching for them.




304


SENTIMENTAL JOURNEY


TIHE CAPTIVE
PARIS.
THE bird in his cage pursued me into my
room. I sat down close by my table, and,
leaning my head upon my hand, I began to
figure to myself the miseries of confinement. I was in a right frame for it, and so
f gave full scope to my imagination.
I was going to begin with the millions
of my fellow-creatures born to no inheritance but slavery: but finding, however
affecting the picture was, that I could not
bring it near me, and that the multitude of
sad groups in it did but distract me,
-I took a single captive; and having
first shut him up in his dungeon, I then
look'd through the twilight of his grated
door to take his picture.
I beheld his body half wasted away with
long expectation and confinement, and felt
what kind of sickness of the heart it was
which arises from hope deferred. Upon


ready at the door of the hotel by nine in
the morning.
-I'll go directly, said I to myself. to
Monsieur le Duc de Choiseul.
La Fleur would have put me to bed; but
not willing he should see any thing upon
my cheek which would cost the'honest fellow a heart-ache,-I told him I would go to
bed by myself,-and bid him go do the same.
TIE STARLING.
ROAD TO VERSAILLES.
I GOT into my remise the hour I proposed.
La Fleur got up behind, and I bid, the
coachman make the best of his way to Versailles.
As there was nothing in this road or
rather nothing which I look for in travelling, I cannot fill up the blank better than
with a short history of this self-same bird,
which became the subject of the last chap

looking nearer, I saw him pale and feverish; ter.
in thirty years the western breeze had not  Whilst the Honorable Mr. **** was waitonce fanned his blood;-he had seen no sun, ing for a wind at Dover, it had been caught
no moon, in all that time;-nor had the upon the cliffs, before it could well fly, by
voice of friend or kinsman breathed through an English lad who was his groom; who,
his lattice!-His children!-         not caring to destroy it, had taken it in his
But here my heart began to bleed; and breast into the packet;-and, by course of
I was forced to go on with another part of feeding it, and taking it once under his prothe portrait.                         tection, in a day or two grew fond of it,
He was sitting upon the ground upon a and got it safe along with him to Paris.
little straw, in the furthest corner of his  At Paris, the lad had laid out a livre in a
dungeon, which was alternately his chair little cage for the starling; and as he had
and bed: a little calendar of small sticks little to do better the five months his master
were laid at the head, notched all over with staid there, he taught it, in his mother's
the dismal days and nights he had passed tongue, the four simple words-(and no
there:-he had one of these little sticks in more)-to which I owned myself so much
his hand, and, with a rusty nail, he was its debtor.
etching another day of misery to add to the  Upon his master's going on for Italy, the
heap. As I darkened the little light he had, lad had given it to the master of the hotel.
he lifted up a hopeless eye towards the door, But his little song for liberty being in an
then cast it down,-shook his head, and unknown language at Paris, the bird had
went on with his work of affliction. I heard little or no store set by him;-so La Fleur
his chains upon his legs, as he turned his bought both him and his cage for me, for a
boay to lay his little stick upon the bundle. bottle of Burgundy.
- -He gave a deep sigh.-I saw the iron  In my return from Italy, I brought him
enter into his soul!-I burst into tears. I witl me to the country in whose language
could not sustain the picture of confine- he had learned his notes; and telling the
ment which my fancy had drawn.-I started story of him to Lord A-, Lord A. begged'I fiom Inv chair, and, calling La Fleur,- the bird of me; in a week Lord A. gave
oid him bespeak me a remise, and have it him to Lord B-; Lord B. made a present




THROUGH FRANCE AND ITALY.


305


of him to Lord C-; and Lord C.'s gentleman sold him to Lord D.'s for a shilling:Lord D. gave him to Lord E. and so on,
half round the alphabet. From that rank
he passed into the lower house, and passed
the hands of as many commoners.-But as
all these wanted to get in, and my bird
wanted to get out, he had almost as little
store set by him in London as in Paris.
It is impossible but many of my readers
must have heard of him; and if any by
mere chance have ever seen him,-I beg
leave to inform them that that bird was my
bird,-or some vile copy set up to represent
nim.
I have nothing farther to add upon him,
but that from that time to this, I have borne
this poor starling as the crest to my arms.
-And let the herald's officers twist his
neck, about if they dare.
THE ADDRESS.
VERSAILLES.
SHOULD not like to have my enemy take
a view of my mind when I am going to ask
protection of any man; for which reason I
generally endeavor to protect myself: but
this going to Monsieur le Duc de C-,
was an act of compulsion;-had it been an
act of choice, I should have done it, I suppose, like other people.
How many mean plans of dirty address,
as I went along, did my servile heart form!
I deserved the Bastile for every one of
them.
Then nothing would serve me, when I
got within sight of Versailles, but putting
words and sentences together, and conceiving attitudes and tones to writhe myself
into Monsieur le Duc de C-'s good grace.
-This will do, said I.-Just as well, retorted I again, as a coat carried up to him by an
adventurous taylor, without taking his measure.-Fool! continued I,-see Monsieur le
Duc's face first;-observe what character
is written in it;-take notice in what posture
he stands to hear you;-mark the turns and
expressions of his body and limbs;-and for
the tone,-the first sound which comes from
his lips will give you it; and from all these
together you'll compound an address at once
tpon the spot, which cannot disgust the
20


Duke;-the ingredients are his own, and
most likely to go down.
Well! said I, I wish it well over.-Coward again! as if man to man was not equal
throughout the whole surface of the globe;
and if in the field, why not face to face in
the cabinet too? and trust me, Yorick, whenever it is not so, man is false.to himself, and
betrays his own succors ten times where
nature does it once. Go to the Duc de Cwith the Bastile in thy looks;-my life for
it, thou wilt be sent back to Paris in half
an hour with an escort.
I believe so, said I.-Then I'll go to the
Duke, by Heaven! with all the gaiety and
debonnairness in the world.
-And there you are wrong again, replied
I.-A heart at ease, Yorick, flies into no
extremes,-'tis ever on its centre.-Well!
well! cried I, as the coachman turned in at
the gates, I find. I shall do very well: and
by the time he had wheeled round the court,
and brought me up to the door, I found myself so much the better for my own lecture,
that I neither ascended the steps like a victim to justice, who was to part with life
upon the topmast,-nor did I mount them
with a skip and a couple of strides, as I do
when I fly up, Eliza! to thee, to meet it.
As I entered the door of the saloon, I was
met by a person who possibly might be the
maitre d'hotel, but had more the air of one
of the under-secretaries, who told me the
Duc de C-    was busy.-I am utterly ignorant, said I, of the forms of obtaining an
audience, being an absolute stranger, and,
what is worse in the present conjuncture of
affairs, being an Englishman too.-He replied, that did not increase the difficulty.I made him a slight bow, and told him, I
had something of importance to say to Monsieur le Due. The secretary looked towards
the stairs, as if he was about to leave me to
carry up this account to some one.-But I
must not mislead you, said I,-for what I
have to say is of no manner of importance
to Monsieur le Duc de C-, but of great
importance to myself.-C'est une autre affaire, replied he.-Not at all, said 1, to a man
of gallantry. But pray, good Sir, continued I
when can a stranger hope to have accesse?In not less than two hours, said lie, looking a(
his watch.-The number of equipages in
the court-yard seemed to justify the calcu26*




306


SENTIMENTAL JOURNEY


lation, that I could have no nearer prospect; I Such a reverse in a man's life awakel i
-and as walking backwards and forwards I a better principle than curiosity: I could not
in the saloon, without a soul to commune help looking for some time at him as I sat
with, was for the time as bad as being in in the remise. The more I looked at him,
the Bastile itself, I instantly went back to his croix and his basket, the stronger they
my remise, and bid the coachman drive me wove themselves into my brain.-I got out
to the Cordon Bleu, which was the nearest of the remise, and went towards him.
hotel.                                   He was begirt with a clean linen s.pfron,
I think there is a fatality in it;-I seldom which fell below his knees, and with A sort
go to the place I set out for.         of a bib that went half-way up to his breast.
Upon the top of this, but a little below
— s==~ -  ~    the hem, hung his croix. His basket of
LE PATISSER.                little pates was covered over with a white
damask napkin; another of the same kind
VERSAILLES.              was spread at the bottom; and there was
BEFORE I had got half-way down the such a look of proprete     and nearness
street, I changed my mind: as I am at Ver- throughout, that one might have bought his
sailles, thought I, I might as well take a pates of him as much from appetite as sen
view of the town; so I pulled the cord, and timent.
ordered the coachman to drive round some  He made an offer of them to neither; but
of the principal streets.-I suppose the town stood still with them at the corner of a hotel,
is not very large, said I.-The coachman for those to buy who chose it, without soli
begged pardon for setting me right, and told citation.
me it was very superb; and that numbers  lie was about forty-eight;-of a sedate
of the first dukes and marquisses and counts look, something approaching to gravity.
had hotels.-The Count de B-, of whom did not wonder.-I went up rather to thE
the bookseller at the Qua-i de Conti had basket than him, and having lifted up the
spoke so handsomely the night before, came napkin, and taken one of his pates into my
instantly into my mind. And why should I hand,-I begged he would explain the ap
not go, thought I, to the Count de B —, who pearance which affected me.
has so high an idea of English books and  He told me in a few words, that the bes:
English men,-and tell him my story?-So part of his life had passed in the service; in
I changed my mind a second time. In truth, which, after spending a small patrimony,
it was the third; for I had intended that day he had obtained a company and the croix
for Madame de R-, in the Rue St. Pierre, with it; but that, at the conclusion of the
and had devoutly sent her word by herfille last peace, his regiment being reformed, and
de chambre that I would assuredly wait the whole corps, with those of some other
upon her;-but I am governed by circum- regiments, left without any provision, he
stances:-I cannot govern them: so seeing found himself in a wide world without
a man standing with a basket on the other friends, without a livre;-and indeed, said
side of the street, as if he had something to he, without any thing but this:-(pointing,
sell, I bid La Fleur go up to him, and in- as he said it, to his croix.)-The poor Chequire for the Count's hotel.           valier won my pity; and he finished the
La Fleur returned a little pale; and told scene by winning my esteem too.
l^,J it was the Chevalier de St. Louis selling  The King, he said, was the most genepdtets.-It is impossible, La Fleur, said I.- rous of princes; but his generosity could
La Fleur could no more account for the neither relieve nor reward every one; and
phenomenon than myself; but persisted in it was only his misfortune to be amongst
his story; he had seen the croix set in gold, the number. He had a little wife, he said,
with its red riband, he said, tied to his whom he loved, who did the patisserie; and
button-hole; and had looked into the basket, added, he felt no dishonor in defending her
and seen the pates which the Chevalier was and himself from want in this way,-unless
selling; so could not be mistaken in that.  Providence had offered him a better.




THROUGH FRANCE AND ITALY.


307


It would be wicked to withhold a pleasure
from the good, in passing over what happened to this poor Chevalier of St. Louis
about nine months after.
It seems he usually took his stand near
the iron gates which lead up to the palace;
and as his croix had caught the eye of numbers, numbers had made the same inquiry
which I had done.-He had told the same
story, and always with so much modesty and
good sense, that it had reached at last the
King's ears;-who hearing the Chevalier
hadceefi a gallant officer, and respected by
the whole regiment as a man of honor and
integrity,-he broke up his little trade by a
pension of fifteen hundred livres a-year. 
As I have told this to please the readef, I
beg he will allow me to relate another, out
of its order, to please myself;-the two stories reflect light upon each other,-and'tis
a pity they should be parted.
THE SWORD.
RENNES.
WHEN states and empires have their periods of declension, and feel in their turns
what distress and poverty is,-I stop not to
tell the causes which gradually brought the
house of d'E —  in Britanny into decay.
The Marquis d'E-     had fought up against
his condition with great firmness; wishing
to preserve and still show to the world some
little fragments of what his ancestors had
been; their indiscretions had put it out of
his power. There was enough left for the
little exigencies of obscurity.-But he had
two boys who looked up to him for light;he thought they deserved it. He had tried
his sword,-it could not open the way, —the
mounting was too expensive,-and simple
economy was not a match for it:-there was
no resource but commerce.
In any other province in France save
Britanny, this was smiting the root for ever
of the little tree his pride and affection
wished to see re-blossom.-But in Britanny,
there being a provision for this, he availed
himself of it; and taking an occasion when
the States were assembled at Rennes, the
Marquis, attended with his two boys, enter.
ed the court; and having pleaded the right




of an ancient law of the duchy, which,
though seldom claimed, he said, was Ino less
in force, he took his sword from his side;Here, said he, take it; and be trusty guardians of it till better times put me in condition to reclaim it.
The president accepted the Marquis's
sword;-he staid a few minutes to see it
deposited in the archives of his house, and
departed.
The Marquis and his whole family embarked the next day for Martinico, and in
about nineteen or twenty years of successful application to business, with some unlooked-for bequests from distant branches of
his house, returned home to reclaim his nobility, and to support it.
It was an incident of good fortune which
will never happen to any traveller but a
sentimental one, that I should be at Rennes
at the very time of this solemn requisition.
I call it solemn;-it was so to me.
The Marquis entered the court with his
whole family: he supported his lady;-his
eldest son supported his sister, and his
youngest was at the other-extreme of the
line next his mother;-he put his handkerchief to his face twice.There was a dead silence. When the
Marquis had approached within six paces
of the tribunal, he gave the Marchioness to
his youngest son, and advancing three steps
before his farmily,-he reclaimed his sword.
His sword was given him: and the moment he got it into his hand, he drew it almost out of the scabbard:-'twas the shining face of a friend he had once given up:
-he looked attentively along it, beginning
at the hilt, as if to see whether it was the
same,-when observing a little rust which
it had contracted near the point, he brought
it near his eye, and bending his head down
over it,-I think I saw a tear fall upon the
place: I could not be deceived by what followed.
" I shall find," said he, " some other way
" to get it off."
When the Marquis had said this, he returned his sword into its scabbard, made a
bow to the guardians of it,-and, with his
wife and daughter, and his two sons follow
ing him, walked out.
0 how I envied his feelings!




30o


SENTIMENTAL JOURNEY


TIF PASSPORT.
VERSAILLES.
I FOUND no difficulty in getting admittance
to Monsieur le Count de B. The set of
Shakspeare was laid upon the table, and he
was tumbling them over. I walked up close
to the table, and giving first such a look at
the books as to make him conceive I knew
what they were,-I. told him I had come
without any one to present me, knowing I
should meet with a friend in his apartment,
who, I trusted, would do it for me;-it is
my countryman the great Shakspeare, said
1, pointing to his works, et ayez la bonte,
mon cher ami, apostrophizing his spirit,
added I, de mefaire cet honneur-ld.The Count smiled at the singularity of
the introduction; and seeing I looked a
little pale and sickly, insisted upon my
taking an arm-chair; so I sat down; and to
save him conjectures upon a visit so out of
all rule, I told him simply of the incident
in the bookseller's shop, and how that had
impelled me rather to go to him with the
story of a little embarrassment I was under,
than to any other man in France.-And
what is your embarrassment? let me hear
it, said the Count.-So I told him the story
just as I have told it the reader.
-And the master of my hotel, said I, as
I concluded it, will needs have it, Monsieur le Count, that I should be sent to the
Bastile;-but I have no apprehensions, continued I,-for in falling into the hands of
the most polished people in the world, and
being conscious I was a true man, and not
come to spy the nakedness of the land, I
scarce thought I lay at their mercy.-It
does not suit the gallantry of the French,
Monsieur le Count, said I, to show it against
invalids.
An animated blush came into the Count
de B-'s cheeks as I spoke this.- Ne
craignez rien-Don't fear, said he.-Indeed I don't, replied I again.- Besides,
continued I, a little sportingly, I have come
laughing all the way from London to Paris;
and I do not think Monsieur le Duc de
Choiseul is such an enemy to mirth, as to
send me back crying for my pains.
-My application to you, Monsieur le
Count de B-      (nmaking him a low bow)
t tc desire he will not.


The Count heard me with great goodnature, or I had not said half as much, —
and once or twice said,-C'est' bien dit.
So I rested my cause there,-and determined to say no more about it.
The Count led the discourse: we talked
of indifferent things, —of books, and politics.
and men; and then of women.-God bless
them all! said I, after much discourse about
them,-there is not a man upon earth who
loves them so much as I do. After all the
foibles I have seen, and all the satires 1
have read against them, still I love them;
being firmly persuaded that a man who has
not a sort of an affection for the whole sex,
is incapable of ever loving a single one as
he ought.
He bien I Monsieur l'Anglois, said the
Count, gaily;-you are not come to spy the
nakedness of the land;-I believe you;-ni
encore, I dare say, that of our women: but
permit me to conjecture,-if, par hazard,
they fell into your way, that the prospect
would not affect you.
I have something within me which cannot bear the shock of the least indecent insinuation; in the sportability of chit-chat I
have often endeavored to conquer it, and
with infinite pain have hazarded a thousand
things.to a dozen of the sex together,-the
least of which I could not venture to a sin.
gle one to gain Heaven.
Excuse me, Monsieur le Count, said I:as for the nakedness of your land, if I saw
it, I should cast my eyes over it with tears
in them; -and for that of your women
(blushing at the idea he had excited in me)
I am so evangelical in this, and have such
a fellow-feeling for whatever is weak about
them, that I would cover it with a garment,
if I knew how to throw it on;-but I could
wish, continued I, to spy the nakedness of
their hearts, and through the different disguises of customs, climates, and religion,
find out what is good in them to fashion my
own by;-and therefore am I come.
It is for this reason, Monsieur le Count,
continued I, that I have not seen the Palais
Royal, nor the Luxembourg,-nor the Facade of the Louvre,-nor have attempted to
swell the catalogues we have of pictures,
statues, and churches.-I conceive every
fair being as a temple, and would rather
enter in, and see the original drawings and




loose sketches hung up
figuration ol Raphael
The thirst of this, c


THROUGH FRANCE AND ITALY.                            309
in it, than the Trans- -Good my Lord! said I; but there aro twvo
itself.             Yoricks. The Yorick your Lordship thinks
ontinued I, as impa- of, has been dead and buried eight hundred


tient as that which inflames the breast of
the connoisseur, has led me from my own
home into France,-and from France will
lead me through Italy; —'tis a quiet journey of the heart in pursuit of Nature, and
those affections which arise out of her,
which make us love each other,-and the
world, better than we do.
The Count said a great many civil things
to me upon the occasion; and added, very
politely, how much he stood obliged to
Shakspeare for making me known to him.
-But d-propos, said he;-Shakspeare is
full of great things:-he forgot the small
punctilio of announcing your name: — it
puts you under a necessity of doing it yourself.
THE PASSPORT.
VERSAILLES.




years ago: he flourish'd in Horwendillus's
court; —the other Yorick is myself, who
have flourish'd, my Lord, in no court.-He
shook his head.-Good God! said' I, you
might as well confound Alexander the Great
with Alexander the Coppersmith, my Lord!
-'Twas all one, he replied.
-If Alexander King of Macedon, could
have translated your Lordship, said I, I'm
sure your Lordship would not have said so.
The poor Count de B**** fell but into the
same error.
-Et, Monsieur, est il Yorick? cried the
Count.-Je le suis, said I.- Vous?-Moimoi qui i al'h7onneur de vous parler, Monsieur le Comte.-Mon Dieu! said he, embracing me,- Vous etes Yorick!
The Count instantly put the Shakspeare
into his pocket, and left me alone in his
room.


THERE is not a more perplexing affair in      THE PASSPORT.
life to me, than to set about telling any one,. ~*\ v^~~~~~~ *   iVERSAILLES.
who I am,-for there is scarce any body I
cannot give a better account of than myself;  I COULD not conceive why the Count de
and I have often wish'd I could do it in a B**** had gone so abruptly out of the room,
single word,-and have an end of it. It any more than I could conceive why he had
was the only time and occasion in my life I put the Shakspeare into his pocket.-fMyscould accomplish this to any purpose;-for teries which must explain themselves, are
Shakspeare lying upon the table, and recol- not worth the loss of time which a conjecture
lecting I was in his books, I took up Ham- about them takes up:'twas better to read
let, and turning immediately to the grave- Shakspeare; so taking up "Much Ado about
diggers' scene in the fifth act, I laid my "Nothing," I transported myself instantly
finger upon, Yorick; and advancing the from the chair I sat in to Messina in Sicily,
book to the Count, with my finger all the and got so busy with Don Pedro, and Beneway over the name, —Me voici! said I.  diet and Beatrice, that I thought not of VerNow, whether the idea of poor Yorick's sailles, the Count, or the passport.
skull was put out of the Count's mind by  Sweet pliability of man's spirit, that can
the reality of my own, or by what magic he at once surrender itself to illusions which
could drop a period of seven or eight hun- cheat expectation and sorrow of their weary
dred years, makes nothing in this account: moments!-Long,-long since had ye num-'tis certain, the French conceive better than ber'd out my days, had I not trod so great
they combine;-I wonder at nothing in this a part of them upon this enchanted ground.
world, and the less at this; inasmuch as When my way is too rough for my feet, or
one of the first of our own church, for whose too steep for my strength, I get off it, to
candor and paternal sentiments I have the some smooth velvet path which fancy has
highest veneration, fell into the same mis- scatter'd over with rose-buds of delights
take in the very same case;-" He could and, having taken a few turns in it, come
"not bear," he said, "to look into sermons back strengthen'd and refresb'd. -When
"wrote by the King of Denmark's jester." evils press sore upon me, and there is nc




310


SENTIMENTANT L JOURtNEY\


retreat from them in this world, then I take ants of cities, generals of armies, justiciaries,
a new course;,-I leave it,-and, as I have and all officers of justice, to let Mr. Yorick
a clearer idea of the Elysian Fields than I tlh King's jester, and his baggage, travel
have of Heaven, I force myself, like AEneas, quietly along,-I ownii the triuimph of obtaininto them;-I see him meet the pensive ing the passport was not a little tarnish'd
shade of his forsaken Dido, and wish to by the figure I cut in it.-But there is norecognize it;-I see the injured spirit wave thing unmix'd in this world; and some of
her head, and turn off silent from the author the gravest of our divines have carried it
of her miseries and dishonors;-I lose the so far as to affirm, that enjoyment itself was
feelings for myself in hers, and in those attended even with a sigh, and that the
affections which were wont to make me greatest they knew of terminated, in a
mourn for her when I was at school.    general way, in little better than a convulSurely, this is not walking in a vain sion.
shadow,-nor does man disquiet himself in  I remember the grave and learned Bevovain by it:-he oftener does so in trusting riskius, in his Commentary upon the Genethe issue of his commotions to reason only. rations from Adam, very naturally breaks
-I can safely say for myself, I was never off in the middle of a note, to give an acable to conquer any one single bad sensa- count to the world of a couple of sparrows
tion in my heart so decisively, as by beat- upon the out-edge of his window, which had
ing up as fast as I could for some kindly incommoded him all the time he wrote;
and gentle sensation to fight it upon its own and, at last, had entirely taken him off from


ground.
When I had got to the end__of the third
act, the C(oufllnt deB**** entered with my
passport- in his. hand. Mons. le Du  de,
C-, said the Count, is as good a prophet,
I dare say, as he is a statesman.- Un homme
qui rit, said the Duke, ne sera jamais dangereux.-Had it been for any one but the
King's jester, added the Count, I could not
have got it these two hours.-Pardonnez
moi, Mons. le Count, said I, I -amt notthe
iKing's jester.-But you are Yorick?-Yes.
-Et vous plaisantez?- I answered, Indeed I did jest,-but was not paid for it;-'twas entirely at my own expense.
We have no jester at court, Mons. le
Count, said I; the last we had was in the
licentious reign of Charles II.;-since which
time, our manners have been so gradually
refining, that our court at present is so full
of patriots, who wish for nothing but the
honors and wealth of our country;-and
our ladies are all so chaste, so spotless, so
good, so devout,-there is nothing for a
)ester to make a jest of.
Voila un persiflage! cried the Count.
THE PASSPORT.
VERSAILLES.
As the passport was directed to all lieutenant-governors, governors, and command

his genealogy.
-'Tis strange! writes Bevoriskius, but
the facts are certain; for I have had the
icuriosity to mark them down, one by one,
with my pen;-but the cock-sparrow, during
the little time that I could have finished
the other half of this note, has actually
interrupted me with the reiteration of his
caresses three-and-twenty times and a half:
IHow merciful, adds Bevoriskius, is Heaveil to his creatures!
Ill-fated Yorick! that the gravest of thy
brethren should be able to write that to the
world, which stains thy face with crimson
to copy, even in thy study.
But this is nothing to my travels; —so I
twice,-twice beg pardon for it.
CHARACTER.
VERSAILLES.
AND how do you find the French l said
the Count de B-, after he had given me
the passport.
The reader may suppose, that, after so
obliging a proof of courtesy, I could not be
at a loss to say something handsome to the
inquiry.
3Mais passe pour cela.-Speak frankly
said he: do you find all the urbanity in the
French which the world give us the honor




THROUGH FRANCE AND ITALY.


311


of — I had found every thing, I said, which
confirmed it.- Vraiment, said the Count,
les Francois sont polis.-To an excess, replied I.
The Count took notice of the word excesse; and would have it I meant more
than I said. I defended myself a long time,
as well as I could, against it;-he insisted
I had a reserve, and that I would speak my
opinion frankly.
I believe, Mons. le Count, said I, that
man has a certain compass, as well as an
instrument; and that the social and other
calls have occasion, by turns, for every key
in him; so that, if you begin a note too
high or too low, there must bea want either
in the upper or under part, to fill up the
system of harmony.-The Count de Bdid not understand music: so desired me to
explain it some other way.-A polish'd nation, my dear Count, said I, makes every
one its debtor; and besides, Urbanity itself,
like the fair sex, has so many charms, it
goes against the heart to say it can do ill;
and yet, I believe, there is but a certain
line of perfection that man, take him altogether, is empower'd to arrive at;-if he
gets beyond, he rather exchanges qualities
than gets them. I must not presume to
say how far this has affected the French
in the subject we are speaking of;-but
should it ever be the case of the English,
in the progress of their refinements, to arrive at the same polish which distinguishes
the French, if we did not lose the politesse
du cceur, which inclines men more to humane actions than courteous ones, —we
should at least lose that distinct variety
and originality of character, which distinguishes them not only from each other, but
from all the world besides.
I had a few of King William's shillings,
as smooth as glass, in my pocket, and foreseeing they would be of use in the illustration of my hypothesis, I had got them into
my hand, when I had proceeded so far:See, Mons. le Count, said I, rising up,
and laying them before him upon the table,
-by jingling and rubbing one against
another for seventy years together in one
body's pocket or another's, they are become
so much alike, you can scarce distinguish
ene shilling from another. 
The English, like ancient medals, kept


more apart, and passing but few people's
hands, preserve the first sharpness which
the fine hand of Nature has given them; —
they are not so pleasant to feel,-but, in
return, the legend is so visible, that, at the
first look, you see whose image and superscription they bear. But the French, Mons.
le Count, added I, (wishing to soften what
I had said), have so many excellencies, they
can the better spare this;-they are a loyal,
a gallant, a generous, an ingenious, and a
good-temper'd people as is under Heaven;
-if they have a fault, they are too serious.
Mon Dieu! cried the Count, rising out
of his chair.
Miais vous plaisantez, said he, correcting
his exclamation. —I laid my hand upon my
breast, and, with earnest gravity, assured
him it was my most settled opinion.
-The Count said he was mortified, he
could not stay to hear my reasons, being
engaged to go that moment to dine with
the Duc de C.
But, if it is not too far to come to Versailles, to eat your soup with me, I beg.
before you leave France, I may have the
pleasure of knowing you retract your
opinion,-or in what manner you support
it.-But if you do support it, Mons. Anglois, said he, you tnust do it with all your
powers, because you have the whole world
against you.-I promised the Count I would
do myself the honor of dining with him
before I set out for Italy;-so took my
leave.
THE TEMPTATION.
PARIS.
WHEN I alighted at the hotel, the porter
told me a young woman with a band-box
had been that moment inquiring for me.I do not know, said the porter, whether sne
is gone away or not.-I took the key of my
chamber of him, and went up stairs; and,
when I had got within ten steps of the top
of the landing before my door, I met her
coming easily down.
It was the fair fille de chambre I hao
walked along the Quai de Conti with 
Madame de R**** had sent her upon some
commission to a mcrchante des modes




312


SENTIMENTANT L JOURtNEY\


within a step or two of the hotel de Modene; her by the hand, and led her to the door,
and, as I had fail'd in waiting upon her, had and begg'd she would not forget the lesson
bid her inquire if I had left Paris; and, if I had given her.-She said, indeed she
so, whether I had not left a letter addressed would not, and as she uttered it with some
to her.                                 earnestness, she turn'd about, and gave me
As the fair fille de chambre was so near both her hands, closed together, into mine;
my door, she.returned back, and went into — it was impossible not to compress them in
the room with me for a moment or two that sitiuation;-I wish'd to let them go;
whilst I wrote a card.                 and, all the time I held them, I kept arguing
It was a fine still evening in the latter within myself against it,-and still I held
end of the month of May,-the crimson them on.-In two minutes I tfbud I had all
window-curtains (which were of the same the battle to fight over again;- and I felt
color as those of the bed) were drawn my legs and every limb about me tremble
close,-the sun was setting, and reflected at the idea.
through them so warm a tint into the fair  The foot of the bed was withina yard and
fille de chambre's face,- I thought she a half of the place where we were standing,
blush'd;-the idea of it made me blush my- -I had still hold of her hands-(and how it
self;-we were quite alone, and that super- happened, I can give no account;) but I
induced a second blush before the first neither asked her, nor drew her, nor did I
could get off.                          think of the bed;-but so it did happen, we
There is a sort of a pleasing half-guilty both sat down.
blush, where the blood is more in fault than  I'll just show you, said the fair fille de
the man;-'tis sent impetuous from the chambre, the little purse I have been makheart, and virtue flies after it,-not to call ing to-day to hold your crown. So she put
it back, but to make the sensation of it her hand into her right pocket, which was
more delicious to the nerves;-'tis asso- next me, and felt for it some time;-then
ciated.                                into the left. - "She had lost it." - I
But I'll not describe it;-I felt something never bore expectation more quietly;-it
at first within me which was not in strict was in her right pocket at last; she pull'd
unison with the lesson of virtue I had given! it out; it was of green taffeta, lined with a
her the night before;-I sought five min-i little bit of white quilted satin, and just big
utes for a card; I knew I had not one. I: enough to hold the crown:-she put it into
took up a pen,-I laid it down again,-my my hand; it was pretty, and I held it ten
hand trembled:-the Devil was in me.    minutes, with the back of my hand resting
I know as well as any one he is an ad- upon her lap, looking sometimes at the purse,
versary; whom, if we resist, he will fly sometimes on one side of it.
from us; but I seldom resist him at all,  A stitch or two had broke out in the
from a terror that, though I may conquer, gathers of my stock; the fair file de chaimI may still. get a hurt in the combat;-so I bre, without saying a word, took out her
give up the triumph for security; and, in- little housewife, threaded a small needle,
stead of thinking to make him fly, I gene- and sewed it up. I foresaw it would hazrally fly myself.                      ard the glory of the day, and as she passed
The fair fille de chambre came, close up her hand in silence across and across my
to the bureau, where I was looking for a neck in the manceuvre, I felt the laurels
card,-took up first the pen I cast down, shake which fancy had wreathed about my
then offered to hold me the ink; she offer'd head.
It so sweetly, I was going to accept it, but  A strap had given way in her walk, and
f durst not;-I have nothing, my dear, said the buckle of her shoe was just falling off.
f, to write upon.-Write it, said she, sim- -See, said the fille de chambre, holding
ply, upon any thing.                   up her foot,-I could not from my soul but
-I was just going to cry out, Then I fasten the buckle in return; and, putting in
will write it, fair girl, upon thy lips.  the strap,-and lifting up the other foot with
-If I do, said I. I shall perish: so I took it, when I had done, to see both were right,




THROUGH FRANCE AND ITALY.


313


in doing it so suddenly, it unavoidably threw a single object which confounded all kind
the fair fille de chambre off her centre, -  of reasoning upon him.
and then-                                It was a tall figure, of a philosophic, serious, adust look, which pass'd and repass'd
sedately along the street, making a turn of
about sixty paces on each side of the gate
THE CONQUEST.               of the hotel.-The man was about fifty-two,
had a small cane under his arm, was dress'd
YEs,-and then-    Ye, whose clay-cold in a dark drab-colored coat, waistcoat, and
heads and lukewarm hearts can argue down breeches, which seem'd to have seen some
or mask your passions, tell me, what tres- years' service;-they were still clean, and
pass is it that man should have them? or there was a little air of frugal proprete
how his spirit stands answerable to the throughout him. By his pulling off his hat,
Father of spirits but for his conduct under and his attitude of accosting a good many
them 1                                 in his way, I saw he was asking charity; so
If Nature has so wove her web of kind- I got a sous or two out of my pocket ready
ness, that some threads of love and desire to give him, as he took me in his turn. He
are entangled with the piece,-must the pass'd by me without asking any thing,whole web be rent in drawing them out?-  and yet did not go five steps farther before
Whip me such stoics, great Governor of he ask'd charity of a little woman,-I was
Nature! said I to myself:-wherever thy much more likely to have given of the two.
Providence shall place me for the trials of He had scarce done with the woman, when
my virtue; whatever is my danger,-what- he pull'd his hat off to another who was coinever is my situation,-let me feel the move- ing the same way. An ancient gentleman
ments which rise out of it, and which belong came slowly, and, after him, a young smart
to me as a man,-and, if I govern them as one. He let them both pass, and ask'd noa good one, I will trust the issues to thy thing; I stood observing him half-an-hour;
justice; for thou hast made us, and not we in which time he had made a dozen turns
ourselves.                             backwards and forwards, and found that he


As I finished my address, I raised the fair
fille (de chambre up by the hand, and led
her out of the room;-she stood by me till
I locked the door and put the key in my
pocket,-and then,-the victory being quite
decisive,-and not till then, I pressed my
lips to her cheek, and, taking her by the
hand again, led her safe to the gate of the
hotel.
THE MYSTERY.
PARIS.
IF a man knows the heart, he will know
it was impossible to go back instantly to my
chamber; -it was touching a cold key with
a flat third to it, upon the close of a piece
of music, which had called forth my affections; therefore, when I let go the hand of
the fille de chambre, I remain'd at the gate
of the hotel for some time, looking at every
one who pass'd by, and forming conjectures
upon them, till my attention got fix'd upon
2P


invariably pursued the same plan.
There were two things very singular in
this, which set my brain to work, and to no
purpose; - the first was, Why the man
should only tell his story to the sex;-and
secondly, What kind of story it was, and
what species of eloquence it could be, which
soften'd the hearts of the women, which he
knew'twas to no purpose to practise upon
the men.
There were two other circumstances
which entangled this mystery:-the one
was, He told every woman what he had to
say in her ear, and in a way which had
much more the air of a secret, than a petition;-the other was, It was always successful;-he never stopp'd a woman but she
pull'd out her purse, and immediately gave
him something.
I could form no system to explain the
phenomenon.
I had got a riddle to amuse me for tne
rest of the evening; so I walk'd up stairs to
my chamber.
27




314


SENTIMENTAL JOURNEY


THE CASE OF CONSCIENCE.
PARIS.
I WAS immediately followed up by the
master of the hotel, who came into my room
to tell me I must provide lodgings elsewhere.-How so, friend? said I.-He answer'd, I had a young woman lock'd up
with me two hours that evening in my bedchamber, and'twas against the rules of his
house.-Very well, said I, we'll all part
friends then,-for the girl is no worse,-and
I am no worse,-and you will be just as I
found you.-It was enough, he said, to overthrow the credit of his hotel.- Voyez vous,
MIonzsieur, said he, pointing to the foot of
the bed we had been sitting upon.-I own
it had something of the appearance of an
evidence; but my pride not suffering me to
enter into any detail of the case, I exhorted
him to let his soul sleep in peace, as I resolved to let mine do that night, and that I
would discharge what I owed him at breakfast.
-I should not have minded, Monsieur,
said he, if you had had twenty girls,-'Tis
a score more, replied I, interrupting him,
than I ever reckoned upon.-Provided,
added he, it had been but in a morning.And does the difference of the time of the
day, at Paris, make a difference in the sin?
-It made a difference, he said, in the scandal.-I like a good distinction in my heart;
and cannot say I was intolerably out of temper with the man.-I own it necessary, resumed the master of the hotel, that a stranger at Paris should have the opportunities
presented to him of buying lace and silk
stockings, and ruffles, et tout cela;-and'tis
nothing if a woman comes with a band-box.
-O' my conscience, said I, she had one;
but I never look'd into it.-Then, Monsieur,
said he, has bought nothing.-Not one earthly thing, replied I. - Because, said he, I
could recommend you to one who would use
you en conscience.-But I must see her this
night, said I.-He made me a low bow, and
walk'd down.
Now shall I triumph over this maitre
d'hotel, cried I:-and what then'? Then I
shall let him see.I know he is a dirty fellow.
- -And what then? What then!-I was too
near myself to say it was for the sake of
ociers.-[ had no good answer left;-there


was more of spleen than of principle in my
project, and I was sick of it before the execution.
In a few minutes the grisette came in
with her box of lace.-I'll buy nothing, however, said I, within myself.
The grisette would show me every thing.
-I was hard to please: she would not seem
to see it. She open'd her little magazine,
and laid all her laces, one after another, before me;-unfolded and folded them   up
again, one by one, with the most patient
sweetness.-I might buy,-or not;-she
would let me have every thing at my own
price:-the poor creature seem'd anxious to
get a penny; and laid herself out to win me,
and not so much in a manner which seem'd
artful, as in one I felt simple and caressing.
If there is not a fund of honest cullibility
in man, so much the worse;-my heart relented, and I gave up my second resolution
as quietly as the first.-Why should I chastise one for the trespass of another? If thou
art tributary to this tyrant of an host, thought
i, looking up in her face, so much harder is
thy bread.
If I had not had more than four Louis
d'ors in my purse, there was no such thing
as rising up and showing her the door till 1
had first laid three of them out in a pair of
ruffles.
-The master of the hotel will share the
profit with her;-no matter,-then I have
only paid, as many a poor soul has paid
before me, for an act he could not do, or
think of.
THE RIDDLE.
PARIS.
WHEN La Fleur came up to wait upon
me at supper, he told me how sorry the
master of the hotel was, for his affront to me
in bidding me change my lodgings.
A man who values a good night's rest
will not lie down with enmity in his heart.
if he can help it.-So I bid La Fleur tell
the master of the hotel, that I was sorry on
my side for the occasion I had given him;
-and you may tell him if you will, La Fleur,
added I, that if the young woman should
call again, I shall not see her.




THROUGH FRANCE AND ITALY.


315


This was a sacrifice not to him, but myself, having resolv'd, after so narrow anl
escape, to run no more risks, but to leave I
Paris, if it was possible, with all the virtue
I entered it.
C'est deroger a noblesse, Ionsieur, said
La Fleur, making me a bow down to the
ground as he said it.-Et encore, Monsieur,
said he, may change his sentiments; —and
if (par hazard) he should like to amuse
himself,-T find no amusement in it, said I,
interrupting him.
-1Mon Dieu! said La Fleur, —and took
away.
In an hour's time he came to put me to
bed, and was more than commonly officious;
-something hung upon his lips to say to
me, or ask me, which he could not get off:
I could not conceive what it was; and indeed
gave myself little trouble to find it out, as
I had another riddle so much more interesting upon my mind, which was that of the
man's asking charity before the door of the
hotel.-I would have given any thing to
have got to the bottom of it; and that not
out of curiosity,-'tis so low a principle of
inquiry, in general, I would not purchase
the gratification of it with a two-sous piece;
-but a secret, I thought, which so soon and
so certainly soften'd the heart of every woman you came near, was a secret at least
equal to the philosopher's stone: had I had
both the Indies, I would have given up one
to have been master of it.
I toss'd and turn'd it almost all night long
in my brains, to no manner of purpose; and
when I awoke in the morning, I found my
spirits as much troubled with my dreams,
as ever the King of Babylon had been with
his; and I will not hesitate to affirm, it
would have puzzled all the wise men of
Paris as much as those of Chaldea, to have
given its interpretation.
LE DIMANCHE.
PARIS.
IT was Sunday; and when La Fleur
came in, in the morning, with my coffee
and roll and butter, he had got himself so
gallantly array'd, I scarce knew him.
I had covenanted at Montriul to give him


i new bat with a silver button and four
Louis d'ors-pour s'adoniser, when we got'.O Paris; and the %poor fellow, to do him
justice, had done wonders with it.
He had bought a bright, clean, good sear[et coat, and a pair of breethes of the satro.
-They were not a crown worse, lie said,
For the wearing.-I wish'd him hang'd for
telling me.-They look'd so fresh, that
though I knew the thing could not be done,
yet I would rather have imposed upon my
fancy with thinking I had bought them new
for the fellow, than that they had. come out
of the Rue de Friperie.
This is a nicety which makes not the
heart sore at Paris.
He had purchased, moreover, a handsome
blue satin waistcoat, fanciftilly enough embroldered: -This was Iindeed something
the worse for the service it had done, but'twas clean'Scour'd,-the gold had been
touch'd up, and, upon the whole, was rather
showy than otherwise;  and as the blue
was iiotIviolent, it suited with the coat and
breeches very well: he had squeezed out
of tire - money, moreover, a new bag and a
solitaire; and had insisted with thefripier
upon a gold pair of garters to his breeches'
knees.-He had purchased muslin ruffles
bien brod&s, with four livres of his own
money; and a pair of'white silk stockings
for five more;-and, to top all, Nature had
given him a handsome figure, without costing him a sous.
He entered the room thus set off, with
his hair drest in the first style, and with
a handsome bouquet in his breast.-In a,
word, there was that'look of festivity in
every thing about him, which at once put.
me in.rnind it was Sunday-and by com.
bining both together, it instantly struck
me, that the favor he wisb'd to ask of me
the night before, was to spei)d the day as
every body in Paris spent it besides. I had
scarce made the conjecture, when 1-,a Fleur,
wi'th infinite humility, but with a look of
trust, as if I should not refuse him, begg'd
I would grant him the clay, pour fiaixr 16
galant vis-d-visde sa maitresse.
Now it was the very thing I intended to
do myself vis-a'-vis Madwme de R****. 1-1
had retained the remise on purpose for it,
and it would not have:.mortified my vanity
to have had a servant so well dress'd as La


a new hat with a silver button and four
Louis d'ors pour s'adoniser, when we got
to Paris; and the poor fellow, to do him
justice, had done wonders with it.
He had bought a bright, clean, good scarlet coat, and a pair of breeches of the samer,.
-They were not a crown worse, he said,
for the wearing.-I wish'd him hang'd for
telling me.-They look'd so fresh, that
though I knew the thing could not be done,
yet I would rather have imposed upon my
fancy with thinking I had bought them new
for the fellow, than that they had come out
of the Rue de Friperie.
This is a nicety which makes not the
heart sore at Paris.
He had purchased, moreover, a handsome
blue satin waistcoat, fancifiully enough embroidered: -This was indeed something
the worse for the service it had done, but'twas clean scour'd,-the gold had been
touch'd up, and, upon the whole, was rather
showy than otherwise;-and as the blue
was i;ot violent, it suited with the coat and
breeches very well: he had squeezed out
of tie money, moreover, a new bag and a
solitaire; and had insisted with thefripier
upon a gold pair of garters to his breeches'
knees.-He had purchased muslin ruffles
bien brodees, with four livres of his own
money;-and a pair of' white silk stockings
for five more; —and, to top all, Nature had
given him a handsome figure, without costing him a sous.
He entered the room thus set off, with
his hair drest in the first style, and with
a handsome bouquet in his breast. — In a.
word, there was that look of festivity in
every thing about him, which at once put.
me in mnind it was Sunday-and by combining both together, it instantly struck
me, that the favor he wish'd to ask of me
the night before, was to spend the day as
every body in Paris spent it besides. I had
scarce made the conjecture, when I,a Fleur,
with infinite humility, but with a look of
trust, as if I should not refuse him, begg'd
I would grant him the day, pour fazire le
galant vis-d-vis de sa maitresse.
Now it was the very thing I intended to
do myself vis-di-vis Madame de R****..- I
had retained the remise on purpose for it,
and it would not have:mortified my sanity
to have had a servant so well dress'd as La




316


SENTIMENTAL JOURNEY


Fleur was, to have got up behind it: I
never could have worse spared him.
But we must feel, not argue, in these
embarrassments;-the sons and daughters
of Service part with liberty, but not with
nature, in their contracts; they are flesh
and blood, and have their little vanities and
wishes in the midst of the house of bondage, as well as their task-masters; —no
doubt, they have set their self-denials at a
price,-and their expectations are so unreasonable, that I would often disappoint
them, but that their condition puts it so
mnuch in my power to do it.
Behold,-Behold, I am thy servant,disarms me at once of the powers of a
Master.
-Thou shalt go, La Fleur, said I.
-And what mistress, La Fleur, said I,
canst thou have pick'd up in so little a time
at Paris — La Fleur laid his hand upon his
breast, and said,'Twas a petit demoiselle,
at Monsieur le Count de B****'s. La Fleur
had a heart made for society; and to speak
the truth of him, let as few occasions slip
him as his master,-so that, somehow or
other,-but how,-Heaven knowvs,-he had
connected himself with the demoiselle upon
the landing of the staircase, during the
time I was taken up with my passport;
and as there was time enough for me to
win the Count to my interest, La Fleur had
contrived to make it do to win the maid to
his. The family, it seems, was to be at
Paris that day, and he had made a party
with her, and two or three more of the
Count's household, upon the boulevards.
Happy people! that once a week at least
are sure to lay down all your cares together, and dance and sing, and sport away
the weights of grievance, which bow down
she spirit of other nations to the earth.
THE FRAGMENT.
PARIS.
LA FLEUR had left me something to
amuse myself with for the day, more than I
had bargained for, or could have entered
either into his head or mine.
He had brought the little print of butter
ajpon a currant-leaf; and, as the morning


was warm, and he had a good step to bring
it, he had begged a sheet of waste paper to
put betwixt the currait-leaf and his hand.
-As that was plate sufficient, I bade him
lay it upon the table as it was; and as I
resolved to stay within all day, I ordered
him to call upon the traiteur, to bespeak
my dinner, and leave me to breakfast by
myself.
When I had finished the butter, I threw
the currant-leaf out of the window, and was
going to do the same by the waste paper;
-but, stopping to read a line first, and that
drawing me on to a second and a third,-I
thought it better worth; so I shut the window, and drawing a chair up to it, I sat
down to read it.
It was in the old French of Rabelais's
time; and, for aught I know, might have
been wrote by him: it was, moreover, in a
Gothic letter, and that so faded and gone off
by damps and length of time, it cost me infinite trouble to make any thing of it.-I
threw it down; and then wrote a letter to
Eugenius,-then I took it up again, and
embroiled my patience with it afresh;and then, to cure that, I wrote a letter to
Eliza.-Still it kept hold of me; and the
difficulty of understanding it, increased but
the desire.
I got my dinner; and after I had enlightened my mind with a bottle of Burgundy, I
at it again;-and after two or three hours'
poring upon it, with almost as deep attention as ever Gruter or Jacob Spon did upon
a nonsensical inscription, I thought I made
sense of it; but to make sure of it, the best
way, I imagined, was to turn it into English, and see how it would look then;-so
I went on leisurely, as a trifling man does,
sometimes writing a sentence,-then taking
a turn or two,-and then looking how the
world went, out of the window; so that it
was nine o'clock at night before I had done
it.-I then began, and read it as follows:THE FRAGMENT.
PARIS.
-Now as the Notary's wife disputed the
point with the Notary with too much heat,
— 1 wish, said the Notary (throwing down




THROUGH FRANCE AND ITALY.


317


the parchment), that there was another
Notary here, only to set down and attest
all this.
-And what would you do then, Monsieur? said she, rising hastily up.-The
Notary's wife was a little fume of a woman,
and the Notary thought it well to avoid a
hurricane by a mild reply.-I would go,
answered he, to bed.-You may go to the
Devil, answered the Notary's wife.
Now there happening to be but one bed
in the house, the other two rooms being
unfurnished, as is the custom at Paris, and
the Notary not caring to lie in the same
bed with a woman who had but that moment sent him pell-mell to the Devil, went
forth with his hat and cane, and short cloak,
the night being very windy, and walk'd
out ill at ease towards the Pont Neuf.
Of all the bridges which ever were built,
the whole world who have pass'd over the
Pont Neuf must own, that it is the noblest,
-the finest,-the grandest,-the lightest,
-the longest,-the broadest, that ever conjoin'd land and land together upon the face
of the terraqueous globe.By this it seems as if the author of the
Fragment had not been a Frenchman.
The worst fault which Divines and the
Doctors of the Sorbonne can allege against
it, is, that if there is but a cap-full of wind
in or about Paris,'tis more blasphemously
sacre Dieu'd there than in any other aperture of the whole city,-and with reason,
good and cogent, Messieurs; for it comes
against you without crying garde d'eau,
and with such unpremeditable puffs, that of
the few who cross it with their hats on, not
one in fifty but hazards two livres and a
half, which is its full worth.
The poor Notary, just as he was passing
by the sentry, instinctively clapp'd his cane
to the side of it; but in raising it up,.he
point of his cane catching hold of the sentinel's hat, hoisted it over the spikes of the
balustrade clear into the Seine.
-' Tis an ill wind, said a boatman, who
catch'd it, which blows nobody any good.
The sentry, being a Gascon, incontinently
twirl'd up his whiskers, and levell'd his
arquebuse.
Arquebuses in those days went off with
matches; and an old woman's paper lantern
at the end of the bridge happening to be


blown out, she had borrowed the sentry's
match to light it; —it gave a moment's
time for the Gascon's blood to run cool, and
turn the accident better to his advantage.-'Tis an ill wind, said he, catching off the
Notary's castor, and legitimating the cap.
ture with the boatman's adage.
The poor Notary cross'd the bridge, and
passing along the Rue de Dauphine into
the Fauxbourg of St. Germain, lamented
himself as he walked along in this manner:Luckless man that I am! said the Notar-,
to be the sport of hurricanes all my days!to be born to have the storm of ill language
levell'd against me and my profession
wherever I go!-to be forced into marriage
by the thunder of the church to a tempest
of a woman!-to be driven forth out of my
house by domestic winds, and despoil'd of
ny castor by pontific ones! -to be here,
bare-headed,.in a windy night, at the mercy of the ebbs and flows of accidents!Where am I to lay my head!-Miserable
man! what wind in the two-and-thirty
points in the whole compass can blow unto
thee, as it does the rest of thy fellow-creatures, good!
As the Notary was passing on by a dark
passage, complaining in this sort, a voice
called out to a girl, to bid her run for the
next Notary.-Now the Notary being the
next, and availing himself of his situation,
walk'd up the passage to the door, and passing through an old sort of saloon, was
ushered into a large chamber, dismantled
of every thing but a long military pike,-a
breast-plate,-a rusty old sword, and bandoleer, hung up equidistant in four different
places against the wall.
An old personage, who had heretofore
been a gentleman, and unless decay of fortune taints the blood along with it, was a
gentleman at that time, lay supporting his
head upon his hand, in his bed; a little ta.
ble with a taper burning was set close be.
side it, and close by the table was placed a
chair,-the Notary sat him down in it; and
pulling out his inkhorn and a sheet or two
of paper which he had in his pocket, he
placed them before him, and dipping his
pen in his ink, and leaning his breast over
the table, he disposed every thing to mak,
the gentleman's last will and testament.
27*




318


SENTIMENTAL JOURNEY


-Alas! Monsieur le Notaire, said the
gentleman, raising himself up a little, I
nave nothing to bequeath, which will pay
the expense of bequeathing, except the
history of myself, which I could not die in
peace unless I left it as a legacy to the
world; the profits arising out of it I bequeath to you for the pains of taking it
from me.-It is a story so uncommon, it
must be read by all mankind;-it will make
the fortunes of your house.-The Notary
dipp'd his pen into the inkhorn.-Almighty
Director of every event in my life! said the
old gentleman, looking up earnestly, and
raising his hands towards Heaven,-Thou,
whose hand has led me on through such a
labyrinth of strange passages down into
this scene of desolation, assist the decaying
memory of an old, infirm, and brokenhearted man!-Direct my tongue by the
spirit of thy eternal truth, that this stranger may set down nought but what is written in that Book, from whose records, said
he, clasping his hands together, I am to be
condemn'd or acquitted!-the Notary held
up the point of his pen betwixt the taper
and his eye.
-It is a story, Monsieur le Notaire, said
the gentleman, which will rouse up every
affection in Nature;-it will kill the humane, and touch the heart of Cruelty herself with pity.The Notary was inflamed with a desire
to begin, and put his pen a third time into
his inkhorn!-and the old gentleman, turning a little more towards the Notary, began
to dictate his story in these words:-And where is the rest of it, La Fleur?
said I,-as he just then enter'd the room.
TIHE FRAGMENT,
AND THE BOUQUET.*
PARIS.
WHEN La Fleur came close up to the
table, and was made to comprehend what I
wanted, he told me there were only two
other sheets of it, which he had wrapped
round the stalks of a bouquet to keep it to

gether, which he had presented to the do.
moiselle upon the boulevards.-Then prithee, La Fleur, said I, step back to her, to
the Count de B****'s hotel, and see if thou
canst get it.-There is no doubt of it, said
La Fleur;-and away he flew.
In a very little time the poor fellow came
back, quite out of breath, with deeper marls
of disappointment in his looks, than could
arise from the simple irreparability of the
fragment. Juste ciel! in less than two
minutes that the poor fellow had taken his
last tender farewell of her,-his faithless
mistress had given his gage d'amour to
one of the Count's footmen,-the footman
to a young sempstress,-and the sempstress
to a fiddler, with my fiagment at the end
of it.-Our misfortunes were involved together;-I gave a sigh,-and La Fleur
echo'd it back again to my ear.
-How perfidious! cried La Fleur.-How
unlucky! said I.
-I should not have been mortified, Monsieur, quoth La Fleur, if she had lost it.Nor I, La Fleur, said I, had I found it.
Whether I did or no, will be seen hereafter.
THE ACT OF CHARITY.
PARIS.
THE man who either disdains or fears to
walk up a dark entry, may be an excellent
good man, and fit for a hundred things; but
he will not do to make a good Sentimental
Traveller. I count little of the many things
I see pass at broad noon-day, in large and
open streets.-Nature is shy, and hates to
act before spectators; but in such an unobserved corner you sometimes see a single
short scene of hers, worth all the sentiments of a dozen French plays compounded
together,-and yet they are absolutely fine;
-and whenever I have a more brilliant
affair upon my hands than common, as they
suit a preacher just as well as a hero, I
generally make my sermon out of'em;and for the text,-" Cappadocia, Pontus and
"Asia, Phrygia and Pamphylia,"-is as
good as any one in the Bible.
There is a long dark passage issuing out
from the Opera Comique into a narrow


* Nosegay.




THROUGH FRANCE AND ITALY.


319


street;'tis trod by a few who humbly wait for
afiacre,* or wish to get off quietly o'foot when
the opera is done. At the end of it, towards
the theatre,'tis lighted by a small candle,
the light of which is almost lost before you
get half-way down, but near the door;-'tis
more for ornament than use: you see it as
a fix'd star of the least magnitude:-it
burns,-but. does little good to the world,
that we know of.
In returning along this passage, I discern'd, as I approach'd within five or six
paces of the door, two ladies standing, arm
in arm, with their backs against the wall,
waiting, as I imagined, for a fiacre:-as
they were next the door, I thought they
had a prior right; so edged myself up within a yard or little more of them, and quietly
took my stand,-I was in black, and scarce
seen.
The lady next me was a tall lean figure
of a woman, of about thirty-six; the other,
of the same size and make, of about forty:
there was no mark of wife or widow in any
one part of either of them,-they seem'd to
be t:Rq._gupright vestal sisters, unsapp'd by
caresses, unbroke in upon by tender salutations. I could have wish'd to have made
them happy;-their happiness was destin'd,
that night, to come from another quarter.
A low voice, with a good turn of expression, and sweet cadence at the end of it,
begg'd for a twelve-sous piece betwixt them,
for the love of Heaven. I thought it singular that a beggar should fix the quota of an
alms,-and that the sum should be twelve
times as much as what is usually given in
the dark. They both seem'd astonish'd at
it as much as myself.-Twelve sous! said
one.-A twelve-sous piece! said the other,
-and made no reply.
-The poor'man said, he knew not how
to ask less of ladies of their rank; and
bow'd down his head to the ground.
-Poo! said they,-we have no money.
The beggar remained silent for a moment or two, and renew'd his supplication.
-Do not, my fair young ladies, said he,
stop your good ears against me.-Upon my
word. honest man! said the younger, we
have no change.-Then God bless you! said
the poor man, and multiply those joys which




you can give to others, without ciange!I observed the eldest sister put her hand
into her pocket.-I'll see, said she, if I
have a sous! -A sous! give twelve, said
the supplicant; Nature has been bountifu
to you; be bountiful to a poor man.
-I would, friend, with all my heart, said
the younger, if I had it.
-My fair charitable! said he, addressing
himself to the elder,-what is it but your
goodness and humanity which makes your
bright eyes so sweet, that they outshine the
morning, even in this dark passage? ana
what was it which made the Marquis de
Santerre and his brother say so much of
you both as they just pass'd by?
The two ladies seemed much affec;ed;
and impulsively at the same time they both
put their hands into their pocket, and each
took out a twelve-sous piece.
The contest betwixt them and trie poor
supplicant was no more,-it was continued
betwixt themselves, which of the two should
give the twelve-sous piece in charity; —and,
to end the dispute, they both gave it together, and the man went away.
THE RIDDLE EXPLAINED
PARIS.
I STEPPED hastily after him: it was ihe
very man whose success in asking charity
of the women before the door of the hotel
had so puzzled me;-and I found at once
his secret, or at least the basis of it:-'twas
flattery.
Delicious essence! how refreshing art
thou to Nature! how strongly are all its
powers and all its weaknesses on thy side!
how sweetly dost thou mix with the blood,
and help it through the most difficult and
tortuous passages to the heart!
The poor man, as he was not straiten d
for time, had given it here in a larger dose.'tis certain he had a way of bringing it into
less form, for the many sudden cases he had
to do with in the streets; but how he contrived to correct, sweeten, concentre, and
qualify it,-I vex not my spirit with the inquiry;-it is enough, the beggar gained
two twelve-sous pieces,-and they can best
tell the rest who have gained much greaser
matters by it.




* Hackney-coach.




320


SENTIMENTAL JOURNEY


P.RIS.
WVE get forwards in the world, not so
much by doing services as receiving them:
you take a withering twig, and put it in
t le ground; and then you water it, because
you have planted it.
Mons. le Count de B****, merely because
he had done me one kindness in the affair
of my passport, would go on and do me another, the few days he was at Paris, in making me known to a few people of rank; and
they were to present me to others, and so on.
I had got master of my secret just in time
to turn these honors to some little account;
otherwise, as is commonly the case, I should
have din'd or supp'd a single time or two
round; and then, by translating French
looks and attitudes into plain English, I
should presently have seen that I had gold
out of the convert* of some more entertaining guest; and, in course, should have resigned all my places, one after another, merely
upon the principle that I could not keep
them.-As it was, things did not go much
amiss.
I had the honor of being introduced to the
old Marquis de B****. In days of yore he
had signaliz'd himself by some small feats
of chivalry in the Cour d'Amour, and had
dress'd himself out to the idea of tilts and
tournaments ever since.-The Marquis de
B**** wish'd to have it thought the affair
was somewhere else than in his brain. "He
" could like to take a trip to England;" and
ask'd much of the English ladies. - Stay
Awhere you are, I beseech you, Mons. le Marquis, said I.-Les llessieurs Anglois can
scarce get a kind look from them as it is.The Marquis invited me to supper.
Mons. P****, the farmer-general, was just
as inquisitive about our taxes.-They were
very considerable, he heard.-If we knew
but how to collect them, said I, making him
a low bow.
I could never have been invited to Mons.
P****'s concerts upon any other terms.
I had been misrepresented to Madame de
Q*** as an esprit.-Madame de Q*** was
an esprit herself: she burnt with impatience'o see me, and hear me talk. I had not
c kenl my seat, before I saw she did not care


a sous whether I had any wit or no.-I was
let in to be convinced she had.-I call Heaven to witness, I never once open'd the door
of my lips.
Madame de V*** vow'd to every creature
sue met, " She had never had a more improv"ing conversation with a man in her life."
There are three epochas in the empire
of a French woman:-She is coquette,then Deist,-then devote: the empire during
these is never lost; -she only changes
her subjects; when thirty-five years and
more have unpeopled her dominions of the
slaves of love, she repeoples it with the
slaves of infidelity, and then with the slaves
of the church.
Madame de V*** was vibrating betwixt
the first of these epochas: the color of the
rose was fading fast away;-she ought to
have been a Deist five years before the time
I had the honor to pay my first visit.
She placed me upon the same sofa with
her, for the sake of disputing the point of
religion more closely.-In short, Madame
de V*** told me she believed nothing.-I
told Madame de V*** it might be her principle; but I was sure it could not be her interest to level the outworks, without which
I could not conceive how such a citadel as
hers could be defended; -that there was
not a more dangerous thing in the world
than for a beauty to be a Deist;-that it
was a debt I owed my creed, not to conceal
it from her;-that I had not been five minutes sat upon the sofa beside her, but I had
begun to form designs;-and what is it but
the sentiments of religion, and the persuasion they had excited in her breast, which
could have check'd them as they rose up?
-We are not adamant, said I, taking
hold of her hand;-and there is need of all
restraints, till Age in her own time steals
in and lays them on us.-But, my dear lady,
said I, kissing her hand,-'tis too-too soon.
I declare I had the credit all over Paris
of unperverting Madame de V***. -Slhe
affirmed to Mons. D*** and the Abbe M***
that in one half hour I had said more for revealed religion than all their Encyclopedia
had said against it.-I was listed directly
into Madame de V***'s coterie;-and she
put off the epocha of Deism for two years.
I remember it was in this coterie, in the
middle of a discourse, in which I was show

Plate, napkin, knife, fork, and spoon.








F'I


(.


1 Z7 7


I
I
t~~~~o-r_~
l~/~~~~~\Mb ~'-~i'NE


MARIA,




THROUGH FRANCE AND ITALY.


321


ing the necessity of a first cause, that the  The story he had told of that disordered
young Count de Faineant took me by the maid affected me not a little in the reading;
hand to the farthest corner of the room, to but when I got within the neighborhood
tell me my solitaire was pinn'd too strait where she lived, it returned so strong into
about my neck.-It should be plus badinant, my mind, that I could not resist an impulse
said the Count, looking down upon his own; which prompted me to go half a league out
-but a word, Mons. Yorick, to the wise,-  of the road, to the village where her parents
-And from the wise, Mons. le Count, dwelt, to inquire after her.
replied I, making him a bow,-is enough.'Tis going, I own, like the knight of the
The Count de Faineant embraced me Woful Countenance, in quest of melanwith more ardor than ever I was embraced choly adventures;-I know not how it is,
by mortal man.                         but I am never so perfectly conscious of the
For three weeks together, I was of every existence of a soul within me, as when I
man's opinion I met. —Pardi? ce Mons. am entangled in them.
Yoric kEattautant d'esprit que nous autres.  The old mother came to the door; her
-I1 raisonne bien, said another.-C'est 2n lopks told me the story before she opened
bon enfant, said a third.-And at this price her mouth.-She had lost her husband; he
I could have eaten and drunk and been merry had died, she'said, of anguish, for the loss
all the days of my life at Paris;'but'twas of Maria's senses, about a month before.a dishonest reckoning;-I grew ashamed She had feared at first, she added, that it
of it.-It was the gain of a slave-every would have plundered her poor girl of what
sentiment of honor revolted against it;-the little understanding was left;-but, on the
higher I got, the more was I forced upon contrary, it had brought her more to herself;
my beggarly system;-the better the co- -still she could not rest.-Her poor daughterie,-the more children of Art,-I lan- ter, she said, crying, was wandering someguish'd for those of Nature; and one night, where about the road.
after a most vile prostitution of myself to  -Why does my pulse beat languid as I
half a dozen different people, I grew sick, write this? and what made La Fleur, whose
-went to bed,-ordered La Fleur to get heart seem'd only to be tuned to joy, to pass
me horses in the morning to set out for Italy. the back of his hand twice across his eyes,
"as the woman stood and told it. I beckoned
to the postilion to turn back into the road.
TMARIA.                   When we had got within half a league
of Moulines, at the little opening in the
MOULINES.               road, leading to a thicket, I discovered poor
I NEVER felt what the distress of plenty Maria sitting under a poplar.-She was
was in any one shape till now,-to travel sitting with her elbow in her lap, and hei
it through the Bourbonnois, the sweetest head leaning on one side within her hand
part of France,- in the hey-day of the -a small brook ran at the foot of the tree
vintage, x hen Nature is pouring her abun-  I bid the postilion go on with the chaise
dance into every one's lap, and every eye is to Moulines; - and La Fleur to bespeak
lifted up,-a journey through each step of my supper; -and that I would walk after
which music beatstime to Labor, and all him.
her children are rejoicing as they carry in  She was dressed in white, and much a;
their clusters;-to pass through this with my friend described her, except that her
my affections flying out, and kindling at hair hung loose, which before was twisted
every group before me,-and every one of with a' silken net.- She had superadded
them was pregnant with adventures.-   likewise to her jacket, a pale green riband,
Just Heaven!-it would fill up twenty which fell across her shoulder to the waist;
volumes;-and alas! I have but a few small at the end of which hung her pipe.-Her
pages left of this to crowd it into,-and goat had been as faithless as her lover,
half of these must be taken up with the and she had got a little dog in lieu of him,
poor Maria my tfriend Mr. Shandy met with which she kept tied hy a string to her rc r e
near'lou lines.                        As I looked at her dog, she diew I ~
2Q




322


SENTIMENTAL JOURNEY


wards her with the string.,-" Thou shalt
~ not leave me, Sylvio," said she. I looked
in Maria's eyes, and saw she was thinking
more of her father, than of her lover, or
her little goat; for as she uttered them, the
tears trickled down her cheeks.
I sat down close by her; and Maria let
me wipe them away as they fell, with my
handkerchief.-I then steeped it in my own,
-and then in hers,-and then in mine,and then I wiped hers again;-and as I did
it, I felt such undescribable emotions within
me, as I am sure could not be accounted
for from any combinations of matter and
motion.
I am positive I have a soul; nor can all
the books with which materialists have pestered the world, ever convince me to the
contrary.
MARIA.
WHEN Maria had come a little to herself,
I ask'd her if she remembered a pale thin
person of a man, who had sat down betwixt
her. and her goat about two years before T
-She said, she was unsettled much at-that
time, but remembered it upon two accounts:
-That, ill as she was, she saw the person
pitied her; and next, That her goat had
stolen his handkerchief, and she had beat
him for the theft;-she had washed it, she
said, in the brook, and kept it ever since in
her pocket, to restore it to him, in case she
should see him again; which, she added, he
had half-promised her. As she told me this,
she took the handkerchief out of her pocket,
to let me see it; she had folded it up neatly
in a couple of vine-leaves, tied round with
a tendril.-On opening it, I saw an S marked in one of the corners.
-She had, since that, she told me,
strayed as far as Rome, and walked round
St. Peter's once,-and returned back:that.she found her way alone across the
Apennines,- had travelled over all Lombardy without money,-and through the
flinty roads of Savoy without shoes: —how
she had borne it, and how she had got supported, she could not tell;-but God tempers the winds, said Maria, to the shorn.,awls


-Shorn indeed! and to the quick, said
I:-and wast thou in my own land, where
I have a cottage, I would take thee to it,
and shelter thee; thou should'st eat of my
own bread, and drink of my own cup;-I
would be kind to thy Sylvio;-in all thy
weaknesses and wanderings I would seek
after thee, and bring thee back;-when the
sun went down, I would say my prayers,
and when I had done, thou should'st play
thy evening-song upon thy pipe: nor would
the incense of my sacrifice be worse accepted for entering Heaven along with that
of a broken heart 
Nature melted within me as I uttered
this; and Maria observing, as I took out
my handkerchief, that it was steeped too
much already to be of use, would needs go
wash it in the stream.-And where will
you dry it, Maria  said I.-I'll dry it in
my bosom, said she;-'twill do me good.
-And is your heart still so warm, Maria? said I.
I touched upon the string on which hung
all her sorrows;-she looked with wistful
disorder for some time in my face; and
then, without saying any thing, took her
pipe, and played her service to the Virgin.
-The string I had touched ceased to vibrate;-in a moment or two Maria returned
to herself,-let her pipe fall,-and rose up.
And where are you going, Maria, said I.
-She said, to Moulines.-Let us go, said I,
together.-Maria put her arm within mine.
and lengthening the string to let the dog
follow,-in that order we enter'd Moulines.
MARIA.
MONTRIUL.
THOUGH I hate salutations and greetings
in the market-place, yet when we got into
the middle of this, I stopped to take my last
look and last farewell of Maria.
Maria, though not tall, was nevertheless
of the first order of fine forms:-affliction
had touched her looks with something that
was scarce earthly;-still she was feninine;-and so much was there about her of
all that the heart wishes, or the eye looks
for in woman, that could the traces be ever
worn out of hei orain, and those of Eliza out
of mine, she should not only eat of my bread




THROUGH FRANCE AND ITALY.


323


and drink of my own cup, but Maria should Ijoys shall balance it;-for happy is thy cotlie in my bosom, and be unto me as a daugh- tage,-and happy is the sharer of it,-and
ter.                                  happy are the lambs which sport about you.
Adieu, poor' luckless maiden! -Imbibe
the oil and wine which the compassion of a
stranger, as he journeyeth on his way, now
pours into thy wounds;-the Being who  THE SPPER.
pours into thy wounds; -the Being who


has twice bruised thee can only bind them
up for ever.


THE BOURBONNOIS.
THERE was nothing from which I had
painted out for myself so joyous a riot of
the affections, as in this journey in the vintage, through- this part of France; but
pressing through this gate of sorrow to it,
my sufferings have totally unfitted me. In
every scene of festivity I saw Maria in the
back-ground of the piece, sitting pensive
under her poplar: and I had-got amiostfoto
Lyons-before"I'wVas able to cast a shade
across her.
-Dear Sensibility! source inexhausted
of all that's precious in our joys, or costly
in our sorrows,-thou chainest thy martyr
down upon his bed of straw,-and'tis thou
who lift'st him up to Heaven!-Eternal
fountain of our feeling!-'tis here I trace
thee,-and this is thy "' divinity which stirs
"within me;"-not that, in some sad and
sickening moments, "my soul shrinks back
"upon herself, and startles at destruction!"
-mere pomp of words!-but that I feel
some generous joys and generous cares beyond myself;-all comes from thee, great
-great Sensorium of the world! which
vibrates, if a hair of our heads but falls upon
the ground, in the remotest desert of thy
creation.-Touch'd with thee, Eugenius
draws my curtain when I languish,-hears
my tale of symptoms, and blames the weather for the disorder of his nerves. Thou
giv'st a portion of it sometimes to the
roughest peasant who traverses the bleakest mountains;-he finds the lacerated lamb
of another's flock.-This moment I behold
him leaning with his head against his crook,
with piteous inclination looking down upon
it!-Oh! had I come one moment sooner!
- it bleeds to death!- his gentle heart
bleeds with it!
Peace to thee, generous swain!-I see
thou w ilkest off with anguish,- but thy


A SHOE coming loose from the fore-foot
of the thill-horse, at the beginning of the
ascent of Mount Taurira, the postilion dismounted, twisted the shoe off, and put it in
his pocket. As the ascent was of five or
six miles, and that horse our main dependence, I made a point of. having the shoe
fasten'd on again as well as we could; but
the postilion had thrown away the nails;
and the hammer in the chaise-box being of
no great use without them, I submitted to
go on.
He had not mounted half a mile higher,
when coming to a flinty piece of road, the
poor Devil lost a second shoe, and from off
his other fore-foot. I. then got out of the
chaise in good earnest; and seeing a house
about a quarter of a mile to the left hand,
with a great deal to do I prevailed upon the
postilion to turn up to it. - The look of the
house, and of every thing about it, as we
drew nearer, soon reconciled me to the disaster.-It was a little farm-house, surrounded with about twenty acres of vineyard,
about as much corn;-and close to the
house, on one side, was a potagerie of an
acre and a half, full of every thing which
could make plenty in a French peasant's
house;-and, on the other side, was a little
wood, which furnished wherewithal to dress
it. It was about eight in the evening when
I got to the house,-so I left the postilion
to manage his point as he could; and, for
anine, I walk'd directly into the house.
The family consisted of an old grey-headed
man and his wife, with five or six sons and
sons-in-law, and their several wives, and a
joyous genealogy out of them.
l K-"They"w'ere all sitting down together to
their lentil-soup; a large wheaten loaf was
in the middle of the table; and a flagon of
wine at each end of it promised joy through
the stages of the repast:-'twas a feast of
love.
The old man rose up to meet me, and.
with a respectful cordiality, would have me
sit down at the trble; my heart was set




324


SENJTIMIENTAL JOURNEY


down the moment I entered the room: so I tion which is eternally misleading me, had
sat down at once, like a son of the family; not the old'man, as soon as the dance ended,
and, to invest myself in the character as said that this was their constant way; and
speedily as I could, I instantly borrowed that all his life long he had made it a rule,
the old man's knife, and taking up the loaf, after supper was over, to call out his family
cut myself a hearty luncheon; and, as I to dance and rejoice; believing, he said
did it, I saw a testimony in every eye, not that a cheerful and contented mind was the
only of an honest welcome, but of a wel- best sort of thanks to Heaven that an illitecome mix'd with thanks that I had not rate peasant could pay.seem'd to doubt it.                      -Or a learned prelate either, said I.
Was it this? or tell me, Nature, what
else it was that made this morsel so sweet,
-and to what magic I owe it, that the
draught I took of their flagon was so de-  THE CASE OF DELICACY.
iicious with it, that they remain upon my


I


palate to this hour l
If the supper was to my taste,-the grace
which followed it was much more so.
THE GRACE.
WHEN supper was over, the old man
gave a knock upon the table with the haft
of his knife, to bid them prepare for the
dance; the moment the signal was given,
the women and girls ran all together into a.
back apartment to tie up their hair,-and
the youngc men to the door to wash their
faces, and change their sabots; and, in
three minutes, every soul was ready upon a
little esplanade before the house to begin.
-The old man and his wife'came out last,
and, placing me betwixt them, sat down
upon a sofa of turf by the door.
The old man had some fifty years ago
been no mean performer upon the vielle,and, at the age he was then of, touch'd it
well enough for the purpose. His wife
sung now and then a little to the tune,then intermitted,-and join'd her old man
again as their children and grand-children
danced before them.
It was not till the middle of the second
dance, when, for some pauses in the movement wherein. they all seem'd to look up,
I fancied I could distinguish' an elevation
ol spirit different from that which is the
cause or the effect of simple jollity. In a
word, I thought I beheld Religion.ixing
in the dance,-but, asIthtad never seen her
so elgaged, I should have look'd upon it
now as one ot the illusions of an imagina



WHEN you have gain'd the top of Mount
Taurira, you run presently down to Lyons~
-aidi'eu,' then, to all rapid movemen'ts!-'tis a journey of caution; and it fares better
with sentiments, not to be ina hurry with
them-: soI — contracted with a voiturin to
take his time with a couple of mules, and
convey me in my own chaise safe to Turin,
through Savoy.
Poor, patient, quiet, honest people! fear
not; your poverty, the treasury of your
simple virtues, will not be envied you by
the world, nor will your valleys be invaded
by it.-Nature! in the midst of thy disorders, thou art still friendly to the scantiness
thou hast created: with all thy great works
about thee, little hast thou left to give,
either to the scythe or to the sickle-but to
that little thou grantest safety and protection; and sweet are the dwellings which
stand so shelter'd!
Let the wayworn traveller vent his
complaints upon the sudden turns and dangers of your roads, your rocks, your precipices; the difficulties of getting up, the
horrors of getting down, mountains im
practicable,-and cataracts, which roll
down great stones from their summits, and
block up his road. The peasants had been
all day at work in removing a fragment of
this kind between St. Michael and.Madane:
and, by the time my voiturin got to the
place, it wanted full two hours of completing, before a passage could any how
be gain'd. There was nothing but to wait
with patience; —'twas a wet and tempestu.
ous night; so that by the delay and that to-:
gether, the voiturin found himself obliged
to put up five miles short of his stage, at a




THROUGH FRANCE AND ITALY.


325


little decen, kind of an inn by the roadside.
I forthwith took possession of my bedchamber, got a good fire, order'd supper,
and was thanking Heaven it was no worse,
- when a voiturin arrived with a lady in
it, and her servant-maid.
As there was no other bed-chamber in
the hoaie, the hostess, without much nicety,
led them into mine, telling them, as she
usher'd them in, that there was nobody in
it but an English gentleman;-that there
were two good beds in, it, and a closet
Within the room which held another. The
accent in which she spoke of this third bed,
did not say much for it;-however, she
said there were three beds, and but three
people,-and she durst say the gentleman
would do any thing to accommodate matters.-I left not the lady a moment to make
a conjecture about it, so instantly made a
declaration that I would do any thing in
my power.
As this did not amount to an absolute
surrender of my bed-chamber, I still felt
myself so much the proprietor, as to have
a right to do the honors of it;-so I desired the lady to sit down, pressed her into
the warmest seat, call'd for more wood, desired the hostess to enlarge the plan of the
supper, and to favor us with the very best
wine.
The lady had scarce warm'd herself five
minutes at the fire, before she began to
turn her head back, and to give a look at
the beds: and the oftener she cast her eyes
that way, the more they return'd perplex'd.
-I felt for her-and for myself; for in a
few minutes, what by her looks, and the
case itself, I found myself as much embarrassed as it was possible the lady could be
herself.
That the beds we were to lie in were in
one and the same room, was enough simply
by itself to have excited all this;-but the
position of them (for they stood parallel,
end so very close to each other, as only to
allow a space for a small wicker-chair betwixt them) rendered the affair still more
oppressive to us;-they were fixed up,
moreover, near the fire, and the projection
of the chimney on one side; and a large
beam which cross'd the room on the other,
fbrm'd a kind of recess for them that was


no way favorable to the nicety of our sensations:- if any thing could have added
to it, it was that the two beds were both of
them so very small, as to cut us off from
every idea of the lady and the maid lying
together, which in either of them, could it
have been feasible, my lying beside them,
though a thing not to be wish'd, yet there
was nothing in it so terrible which the imagination might not have pass'd over without
torment.
As for the little room within, it offer'd
little or no consolation to us:'twas a damp,
cold closet, with a half-dismantled windowshutter, and with a window which had
neither glass nor oil-paper in it to keep out
the tempest of the night. I did not endeavor to stifle my cough when the lady
gave a peep into it; so it reduced the case
in course to this alternative,-That the
lady should sacrifice her health to her feelings, and take up with the closet herself,
and abandon the bed next mine to her maid,
-or, that the girl should take the closet, &c.
The lady was a Piedmontese of about
thirty, with a glow of health in her cheeks.
The maid was a Lyonoise of twenty, and as
brisk and lively a French girl as ever moved.
There were difficulties every way, and the
obstacle of the stone in the road, which
brought us into the distress, great as it appeared whilst the peasants were removing
it, was but a pebble to what lay in cur way
now.-I have only to add, that it did not
lessen the weight which hung upon our
spirits, that we were both too delicate to
communicate what we felt to each other
upon the occasion.
We sat down to supper; and, had we not
had more generous wine to it than a little
inn in Savoy could have furnish'd, our
tongues had been tied up till necessity herself had set them at liberty;-but the lady
having a few bottles of Burgundy in her
voiture, sent down herfille de chambre for
a couple of them; so that by the time supper was over, and we were left alone, we
felt ourselves inspired with a strength of
mind sufficient to talk, at least, without
reserve, upon our situation. We turn'd it
every way, and debated and considered it
in all kinds of lights, in the course of a two
hours' negotiation; at the end of which the
articles were settled finally betwixt us. and
28




326


SENTIMENTAL JOURNEY, &c.


stipulated for in form and manner of a treaty
of peace,-and, I believe, with as much
religion and good faith on both sides,,as in
any treaty which has yet had the honor of
being handed down to posterity.
They were as follow:First, As the right of the bed-chamber is
in Monsieur,-and he thinking the bed next
to the fire to be the warmest, he insists upon
the concession on the lady's side of taking
up with it.
Granted on the part of Madame; with a
proviso, That as the curtains of that bed
are of a flimsy transparent cotton, and appear likewise too scanty to draw close, that
the fille de chambre shall fasten up the
opening, either by corking-pins or needle
and thread, in such manner as shall be
deem'd a sufficient barrier on the side of
Monsieur.
2dly, It is required on the part of Madame, that Monsieur shall lie the whole
night through in his robe de chambre.
Rejected: inasmuch as Monsieur is not
worth a robe de chambre, he having nothing
in his portmanteau but six shirts and a
black silk pair of breeches.
The mentioning the silk pair of breeches
made an entire change of the article,-for
the breeches were accepted as an equivalent
for the robe de chambre; and so it was
stipulated and agreed upon, what I should
lie in my black silk breeches all night.
3dly. It was insisted upon, and stipulated for by the lady, that after Monsieur
was got to bed, and the candle and fire extinguished, that Monsieur should not speak
one single word the whole night.
Granted, provided Monsieur's saying his
prayers might not be deem'd an infraction
of the treaty.
There was but one point forgot in this
treaty, and that was the manner in which
the lady and myself should be obliged to


undress and get to bed;-there was one
way of doing it, and that I leave to the
reader to devise, protesting as I do it, if it
is not the most delicate in nature,-'tis the
fault of his own imagination,-against which
this is not my first complaint.
Now, when we were got to bed, whether
it was the novelty of the situation, or what
it was, I know not, but so it was, I could
not shut my eyes; I tried this side and that,
and turn'd and turn'd again, till -a full holr
after midnight, when Nature and Patience
both wearing out,-O my God! said I.
-You have broke the treaty, Monsieur,
said the lady, who had no more sleep than
myself. I begg'd a thousand pardons; but
insisted it was no more than an ejaculation.
She maintain'd it was an entire infraction of the treaty; I maintained it was
provided for in the clause of the third
article.
The lady would by no means give up the
point, though she weaken'd her barrier by
it; for, in the warmth of the dispute, 1
could hear two or three corking-pins fall
out of the curtain to the ground.
-Upon my word and honor, Madame,
said I, stretching my arm out of bed by way
of asseveration,(I was going to have added, that I would
not have trespass'd against the remotest
idea of decorum for the world)But the fille de chambre hearing there
were words between us, and fearing that
hostilities would ensue in course, had crept
silently out of her closet; and it being
totally dark, had stolen so close to our beds,
that she had got herself into the narrow
passage which separated them, and had
advanced so far up as to be in a line be.
twixt her mistress and me;So that when I stretch'd out my hand, 1
caught hold of the fille de chambre's

END OF THE SENTIMENTAL JOURNEY.




Uetters
BY
LAURENCE STERNE, A. M.


LETTER I. *                Adieu, my L. Return to one whno lan
guishes for thy society.
TO MISS L.                                        L. STERNE.
YES! I will steal from the world, and not,
a babbling tongue shall tell where I am,Echo shall not so much as whisper my                 LETTER II.
hiding place, - suffer thy imagination to           T 
paint it at a little sun-gilt cottage, on the side
of a romantic hill;-dost thou think I will  You bid me tell you, my dear L., how 1
leave love and friendship behind me? No! bore your departure for S, and whether
they shall be my companions in solitude, the valley where D'Estella stands, retain
for they will sit down and rise up with me still its looks,-or if I think the roses oi


I
I


in the amiable form of my L-. We will
be as merry and as innocent as our first
parents in Paradise, before the arch-fiend
entered that undescribable scene.
The kindest affections will have room to
shoot and expand in our retirement, and
produce such fruit as madness, and envy,
and ambition, have always killed in the bud.
-Let the human tempest and hurricane
rage at a distance, the desolation is beyond
the horizon of peace. —My L. has seen
a polyanthus blow in December,-some
friendly wall has sheltered it from the
biting wind. -No planetary influence shall
reach us, but that which presides and cherishes the sweetest flowers.-God preserve
us! how delightful this prospect in idea!
We will build and we will plant in our own
way,-simplicity shall not be tortured by
art,-we will learn of Nature how to live,she shall be our alchymist to mingle all the
good of life into one salubrious draught.The gloomy family of care and distrust shall
be banished from our dwelling, guarded by
thy kind and tutelary deity;-we-will sing
our choral songs of gratitude, and rejoice to
the end of our pilgrimage.


jessamines smell as sweet, as when you
left it.-Alas! every thing has now lost its
relish and look'! The hour you left D'Estella, I took to my bed.-I was worn out
with fevers of all kinds, but most by that
fever of the heart with which thou knowest
well I have been wasting these two years
-and shall continue wasting till you quit
S-. The good Miss S-, from the
forebodings of the best of hearts, thinking I was ill, insisted upon my going to
her. —What can be the cause, my dear
L., that I have never been able to see the
face of this mutual friend, but I feel myself
rent to pieces? She made me stay an hour
with her, and in that short space, I burst
into tears a dozen different times-and in
such affectionate gusts of passion, that she
was constrained to leave the room,-and
sympathize in her dressirig-room.-I have
been weeping for you both, said she, in a
tone of the sweetest pity,-for poor L.'s
heart, I have long known it-her anguish
is as sharp as yours,-her heart as tender,
-her constancy as great,-her virtues as
heroic;-Heaven brought you not together
to be tormented. I could only answer her
with a kind look, and a heavy sigh,-and
returned home to your lodgings (which I
have hired till your return) to resign my
self to misery.-Fanny had prepared me a


* This, and the three subsequent letters, were written by Mr. Sterne to his wife, while she resided in
Staffordshire, before their marriage.




328                              LETr
supper,-she is all attention to me;-but I
sat'over it with tears; a bitter sauce, my
L., but I could eat with no other:-for the
moment she began to spread my little table,
my heart fainted within me.-One solitary
plate, one knife, one fork, one glass! —I
gave a thousand pensive penetrating looks
at the chair thou hadst so often graced, in
those quiet and sentimental repasts,-then
laid down my knife and fork, and took out
my handkerchief, and clapped, it across my
face, and wept like a child.-I do so this
very moment, my L.; for, as I take up my
pen, my poor pulse quickens, my pale face
glows, and tears are trickling down upon
the paper, as I trace the word L —. 0
thou blessed in thyself, and in thy virtues,blessed to all that know thee,-to me most
so, because more do I know of thee than all
thy sex.-This is. the philtre, my L., by
which thou hast charmed me, and by which
thou wilt hold me thine, whilst virtue and
faith hold this world together.-This, my
friend, is the plain and simple magic by
which I told Miss -  I have won a place
in that heart of thine, on which I depend so
satisfied, that time or distance, or change
of every thing which might alarm the hearts
of little men, create no uneasy suspense in
mine.-Wast thou to stay in S-      these
seven years, thy friend, though he would
grieve, scorns to doubt or to be doubted;-'tis the only exception where security is
not the parent of danger.-I told you poor
Fanny was all attention to me since your
departure-contrives every day bringing in
the name of L. She told me last night
(upon giving me some hartshorn), she had
observed my illness began the very day
of your departure for S-; that I had
never held up my head, had seldom or
scarce ever smiled, had fled from all society,
-that she verily believed I was brokenhearted, for she had never entered the
room, or passed by the door, but she heard
me sigh heavily,-that I neither eat, or
slept, or took pleasure in any thing as before;-judge then, my L., can the valley
look so well,-or the roses and jessamines
smert so sweet as heretofore? Ah me!
mut adieu,-the vesper-bell calls me from
hee to my God.
L STERNE.


LETTER III.
TO THE SAME.


BEFORE now my L. has lodged an Indictment against me in the high court of Friendship;-I plead guilty to the charge, and entirely submit to the mercy of that amiable
tribunal.-Let this mitigate my punishment,
if it will not expiate my transgression,-do
not say that I shall offend again in the same
manner, though a too easy pardon sometimes
occasions a repetition of the same fault.-A
miser says, Though I do no good with my
money to-day, to-morrow shall be marked
with some deed of beneficence.-The Libertine says, Let me enjoy this week in forbidden and luxurious pleasures, and the
next I will dedicate to serious thought and
reflection. —The Gamester says, Let me have
one more chance with the dice, and I will
never touch them more.-The Knave of
every profession wishes to obtain but independency, and he will become an honest
man. -The female Coquette triumphs in
tormenting her enamorato, for fear, after
marriage, he should not pity her.
The apparition of the fifth instant (for
letters may almost be called so) proved more
welcome, as I did not expect it. Oh! my
L. thou art kind, indeed, to make an apology for me, and thou never wilt assuredly
repent of one act of kindness-for being thy
debtor, I will pay thee with interest.-Why
does my L. complain of the desertion of
friends'-Where does the human being live
that will not join in this complaint?-It is
a common observation, and perhaps too true,
that married people seldom extend their regards beyond their own fire-side.-There is
such a thing as parsimony in esteem, as
well as money-yet as one costs nothing, it
might be bestowed with more liberality.
We cannot gather grapes from thorns, so
we must not expect kind attachments from
persons who-are wholly folded up in selfish
schemes. I do not know whether I must
despise or pity such characters-Nature
never made an unkind creature-ill-usage,
and bad habits, have deformed a fair and
lovely creation.
My L.!-thou art surrounded by all the
melancholy gloom of winter! wert thou
alone, the retirement would be agreeable,




LETTERS.


329


-disappointed ambition might envy such a
retreat, and disappointed love would seek it
out.-Crowded towns, and busy societies,
may delight the unthinking and gay-but
solitude is the be-t nurse of wisdom.-Methinks I see my contemplative girl now in
the garden, watching the gradual approaches of spring.-Dost not thou mark with delight the first vernal buds of the snow-drop
and primrose, these early and welcome visitors, spring beneath thy feet.-Flora and
Pomona already consider thee as their handmaid, and a little time will load thee with
their sweetest blessing. - The feathered
race are all thy own, and with them, untaught harmony will soon begin to cheer
thy morning and evening walks.-Sweet
as this may be, return-return-the birds
of Yorkshire will tune their pipes, and sing
as melodiously as those of Staffordshire.
Adieu, my beloved L.; thine too much for
my peace.
my peace.   L. STERNE.
LETTER IV.
TO THE SAME.
I HAVE offended her whom I so tenderly
love!-what could tempt me to it! but if a
beggar was to knock at thy gate, would'st
thou not open the door, and be melted with
compassion?-I know thouwould'st, for Pity
has erected a temple in thy bosom.-Sweetestand best of all human passions! let thy
web of tenderness cover the pensive form
of affliction, and soften the darkest shades
of misery!-I have reconsidered this apology, and, alas! what will it accomplish 1 Arguments, however finely spun, can never
change the nature of things-very trueso a truce with them.
I have lost a very valuable friend by a
sad accident. and what is worse, he has left
a widow and five young children to lament
this sudden stroke.-If real usefulness and
integrity of heart could have secured him
from this, his friends would not now be
mourning his untimely fate.-These dark
and seemingly cruel dispensations of Providence, often make the best of human hearts
2R


complain. —Who can paint the distress of
an affectionate mother, made a widow in a
moment, weeping in bitterness over a numerous, helpless, and fatherless offspring!
-God! these are thy chastisements, and
require (hard task!) a pious acquiescence.
Forgive me this digression, and allow me
to drop a tear over a departed friend; and,
what is more excellent, an honest man.
My L.! thou wiltfeel all that kindness can
inspire in the death of-. The event
was sudden, and thy gentle spirit would be
more alarmed on that account.-But, my L.,
thou hast less to lament, as old age was
creeping on, and her period of doing good,
and being useful, was nearly over.-At sixty
years of age the tenement gets fast out of
repair, and the lodger with anxiety thinks
of a discharge.-In such a situation, the poet
might well say,
"The soul uneasy," &c.
My L. talks of leaving the country-may
a kind angel guide thy steps hither!-Solitude at length grows tiresome.-Thou sayest thou wilt quit the place with regret-I
think so too.-Does not something uneasy
mingle with the very reflection of leaving
it? It is like parting with an old friend,
whose temper and company one has long
been acquainted with-I think I see you
looking twenty times a day at the housealmost counting every brick and pane of
glass, and telling them at the same time,
with a sigh, you are going to leave them.Oh, happy modification of matter! they will
remain insensible of thy loss.-But how wilt
thou be able to part with thy garden?-The
recollection of so many pleasing walks must
have endeared it to you. The trees, the
shrubs, the flowers, which thou reared with
thy own hands-will they not droop and
fade away sooner upon thy departure?Who will he thy successor to nurse them
in thy absence?-Thou wilt leave thy name
upon the myrtle-tree.-If trees, and shrubs,
and flowers, could compose an elegy, I
should expect a very plaintive one upon
this subject.
Adieu, adieu! Believe me, ever, ever
thine.
L. STERNE.


2S*




a330


LETTERS.


LETTER V.
TO MRS. F.
York, Tuesday, Nov. 19. 1759.
DEAR MADAM,
YOUR kind inquiries after my health, deserve my best thanks.-What can give one
more pleasure than the good wishes of those
we value?-I am sorry you give so bad an
account of your own health, but hope you
will find benefit from tar-water-it has been
of infinite service to me.-I suppose, my
good lady, by what you say in your letter,
" that I am busy writing an extraordinary
"book," that your intelligence comes from
York-the fountain-head of all chit-chat
news-and-no matter.-Now for your desire of knowing the reason of my turning
author why truly I am tired of employing
my brains for other people's advantage.-'Tis a foolish sacrifice I have made for some
years to an ungrateful person.-I depend
much upon the candor of the public, but I
shall not pick out a jury to try the merit of
my book amongst ********,-and, till you
read my Tristram, do not, like some people,
condemn it.-Laugh I am sure you will at
some passages.-I have hired a small house
in the Minster Yard for my wife and daughter-the latter is to begin dancing, &c.: if
cannot leave her a fortune, I will at least
give her an education.-As I shall publish my
works very soon, I shall be in town by March,
and shall have the pleasure of meeting with
you.-All your friends are well, and ever
hold you in the same estimation that your
sincere friend does.
Adieu, dear lady: believe me, with every
wish for your happiness, your most faith]ul, &c,
LAURENCE STERNE.


made lne at length as serious and severe as
yourself:-but that the humors you have
stirred up might not work too potently
within me, I have waited four days to cool
myself, before I would set pen to paper to
answer you, " de mortuis nil nisi bontnm."
I declare I have considered the wisdom and
foundation of it over and over again, as
dispassionately, and charitably as a good
Christian can, and, after all, I can find nothing in it, or make more of it than a nonsensical lullaby of some nurse, put into
Latin by some pedant to he chanted by some
hypocrite to the end of the world, for the
consolation of departing lechers. —'Tis, I
own, Latin; and I think that is all the
weight it has-for, in plain English,'tis a
loose and futile position below a dispute"you are not to speak any thing of the
" ead but what is good." Why so?-Who
says so?-neither reason nor scripture.Inspired authors have done otherwise-and
reason and common sense tell me, that if
the characters of past ages and men are to
be drawn at all, they are to be drawn like
themselves; that is, with their excellencies,
andt with their foibles-and it is as much a
piece of justice to the world, and to virtue
too, to do the one as the other. —The ruling
passion,-et les egaremens du coeur, are the
very things which mark and distinguish a
man's character;-in which I would as
soon leave out a man's head as his hobbyhorse.-However, if, like the poor devil of
a painter, we, must conform to this pious
canon, de mortuis, &c. which I own has a
spice of piety in the sound of it, and be
obliged to paint both our angels and our
devils out of the same pot-I then infer
that our Sydenhams, and Sangrados,.our
Lucretius, and Messalinas, our Somers, and
our Bolingbrokes, are alike entitled to
statues, and all the historians or satirists
who have said otherwise since they de.
parted this life, from Sallust to S —, are
guilty of the crimes you charge me with,
"cowardice and injustice."
But why cowardice? "because'tis not
"courage to attack a dead man who can't
"defend himself."-But why do you doctors
of the faculty attack such a one with your
incision-knife? Oh! for the good of the
living.-'Tis my plea.-But I have something more to say in my behalf-and it is


LETTER VI.
TO DR. ******.


Tan n0 17fin


DEAR SIR,
-De mortuis nil nisi bonum, is a maxim
which you have so often of late urged in
conversation, and in your letters (but in
your last especially,) with such seriousness
and severity against me, as the supposed
transgressor of the rule — that you have




LETTERS.


331


this-I am   not guilty of the charge -  culing what I thought deserving of it —oi
though defensible. I have not cut up Doc- of disservice to sound learning, &c.-how
tor Kunastrokius at all.- I have just I have succeeded, my book rpmst showscratch'd him-and that scarce skin-deep. and this I leave entirely to the world-but
-1 do him first all honor-speak of Kunas- not to that little world of your acquaintance,
trokius as a great man-(be he whom he whose opinion and sentiments you call the
will) and then most distantly hint at a droll general opinion of the best judges without
foible in his character-and that not first exception, who all affirm (you say) that my
reported (to the few who can even under- book cannot be put into the hands of any
stand the hint) by me-but known before woman of character. (I hope you except
by every chamber-maid and footman within widows, doctor-for they are not all so
the bills of mortality —but Kunastrokius, squeamish, but I am told they are all really
you say, was a great man-'tis that very of my party, in return for some good offices
circumstance which makes the pleasantry done their interests in the 274th page oi
-for I could name at this instant a score my first volume.) But for the chaste mar.
of honest gentlemen who might have done ried, and chaste unmarried part of the sex
the very thing which Kunastrokius did. and -they must not read my book! Heaven
seen no joke in it at all-as to the failing forbid the stock of chastity should be lessof Kunastrokius, which you say can only ened by the Life and Opinions of Tristram
be imputed to his friends as a misfortune-  Shandy-yes, his Opinions-it would cerI see nothing like a misfortune in it to any tainly debauch'em! God take them under
friend or relation of Kunastrokius, that his protection in this fiery trial, and send
Kunastrokius upon occasion should sit with us plenty of Duennas to watch the work**^*t** and ****** -I haveput these stars ings of their humors till they have safely
not to hurt your worship's delicacy.-If got through the whole work. If this will
Kunastrokius after all is too sacred a char- not be sufficient, may we have plenty of
acter to be even smiled at (which is all I Sangrados to pour in plenty of cold water,
have done,) he has had better luck than his till this terrible fermentation is over-as
betters. In the same page. (without imputa- for the nummum in loculo, which you mention of cowardice) I have said as much of a tion to me a second time, I fear you think
man of twice his wisdom - and that is me very poor, or in debt —I thank God,
Solomon, of whom I' have made the same though I don't abound-that I have enough
remark, " That they were both great men for a clean shirt every day-and a mutton
"-and like all mortal men had each their chop' and my contentment, with this, has
"ruling passion."                      thus far (and I hope ever will) put me
-The consolation you give me, "That above stooping an inch for it, even for -'s
" my book, however, will be rea.d enough estate. Curse on it, I like it not to that'to answer my design of raising a tax upon degree, nor envy (you may be sure) any
"the public" - is very unconsolatory-to man who kneels in the dirt for it-so that
say nothing how very mortifying! by h  -n! howsoever I may fall short of the ends proan author is worse treated than a cornm- posed in commencing author-I enter this
mon ***** at this rate-" You will get a protest, first, that my end was honest; and.
"penny by your sins, and that's enough." secondly, that I wrote not to be fed, but to
Upon this chapter let me comment.-That be famous. I am much obliged to Mr.
I proposed laying" the world under contri- Garrick for his very favorable opinion-but
bution when I set pen to paper,-is what I why, dear Sir, had he done better in finding
own, and I suppose, I may be allow'd to fault with it than in commending it! to
have that view in my head, in common with humble me! an author is not so soon humevery other writer, to make my labor of bled as you imagine-no, but to make the
advantage to myself.                   book better by castrations-that is still suh
Do you not do the same? but I beg I may judice, and I can assure you upon this chapadd, that whatever views I had of that kind, ter, that the very passages and descriptions
I had other views-the first of which was, you propose that I should sacrifice in mv
the hopes of doing the world good, by ridi- second edition, are what are best reiis9,jec




332


LETTERS.


by men of wit, and some others whom I
esteem sound critics-so that, upon the
whole, I am still kept up, if not above fear,
at least above despair, and have seen enough
to show me the folly of an attempt of castrating my book to the prudish humors of
particulars.' I believe the short-cut would
be to publish this letter at the beginning of
the third volume, as an apology for the
first and second. I was sorry to find a censure upon the insincerity of some of my
friends-I have no reason myself to reproach any one man-my friends have contiLded in the same opinions of my books
which they first gave me of them-many
indeed have thought better of'em, by considering them more, few worse.
I am, Sir,
Your humble servant,
LAURENCE STERNE.


LETTER VII.
TO DAVID GARRICK, ESQ.


U[A.bout April, 1760,
Thursday, 11 o'clock-Night.


I have now got home to my lodgings,
since the play (you astonished me in it,)
and have been unwrapping this self-same
wound of mine, and shaking my head over
it this half-hour.
What the devil!-is there no one learned blockhead throughout the many schools
of misapplied science in the Christian
world, to make a tutor of for my Tristram!
-ex quovis ligno nonfit-Are we so run
out of stock, that there is no one lumberheaded, muddle-headed, mortar-headed, pudding-headed chap amongst our doctors?Is there no one single wight of much reading and no learning, amongst the many children in my mother's nursery, who bid high
for this charge —but I must disable my
judgment by choosing a Warburton? Vengeance! have I so little concern for the
honor of my hero! Am I a wretch so void
of sense, so bereft of feeling for the figure
he is to make in story, that I should choose
a preceptor to rob him of all the immortality I intended him 1 0! dear Mr. Garrick!
Malice is ingenious-unless where the
excess of it outwits itself-I have two cornforts in this stroke of it; the first is, that
this one is partly of this kind; and secondly,
that it is one of the number of those which
so unfairly brought poor Yorick to his grave.
The report might draw blood of the author
of Tristram Shandy-but could not harm
such a man as the author of the Divine Legation-God bless him! though (by the bye,
and according to the natural course of descents) the blessing should come from him
to me.
Pray have you no interest, lateral or
collateral, to get me introduced to his Lordship.
Why do you ask?
My dear Sir, I have no claim to such an
honor, but what arises from the honor and
respect which, in the progress of my work,
will be shown the world I owe to so great
a man.
Whilst I am talking of owing-I wish,
my dear Sir, that any body would tell you,
how much I am indebted to you. I am determined never to do it myself, or say more
upon the subject than this, that I am yours,
L. STERNE


DEAR SIR,
rWAs for all the world like a cut across
my finger with a sharp pen-knife. I saw
the blood-gave it a suck-wrapt it upand thought no more about it.
But there is more goes to the healing of
a wound than this comes to:-a wound (unless it is a wound not worth talking of,but, by the bye, mine is) must give you
some pain after. Nature will take her own
way with it-it must ferment-it must
digest.
The story you told me of Tristram's pretended tutor this morning-My letter by
right should have set out with this sentence,
and then the simile would not have kept
you a moment in suspense.
This-vile story, I say-though t then saw
both'how and where it wounded -I felt
little from it at first —or, to speak more
honestly (though it ruins my simile,) I felt
a. great deal of pain from it, but affected an
air usual on such accidents, of less feeling.han I nad.




LETTERS.


333


LETTER VIII.
TO S- C, ESQ.
May, 1760.
DEAR SIR,
I RETURN yOU ten thousand thanks for
the favor of your letter-and the account
you give me of my wife and girl. I saw
Mr. Ch     y to-night at Ranelagh, who
tells me you have inoculated my friend
Bobby. I heartily wish him well through,
and hope in God all goes right.
Qn Monday we set out with a * grand
retinue of Lord Rockingham's (in whose
suite I move) for Windsor-they have contracted for fourteen hundred pounds for the
dinner, to some general undertaker, of
which the K. has bargained to pay one
third. Lord George Sackville was last Saturday at the opera, some say with great
effrontery,-others, with great dejection.
I have little news to add. There is a
shilling pamphlet - wrote against Tristram.
I wish they would write a hundred such.
Mrs.- Sterne says her purse is light: will
you, dear Sir, be so good as to pay her ten
guineas, and I will reckon with you, when
I have the pleasure of meeting you. My
best compliments to Mrs. C. and all friends.
Believe me, dear Sir, your obliged and
raithful
LAU. STERNE.
LETTER IX.


a fool as to fall foul upon Dr. Warburton,
my best, fri end, by representing, hilli so
weak a'man, —or by tellingsuch a lie of
him,-as his giving me, a purse, to buy off
his tutorship for Tristraml-or I should be
fool enough to own I . bad taken his purso
for that purpose.
YOU must know there is a. quarrel between
Dr. Hill and Dr., M, who was the
physician meant,,at Mr. Charles Stanhope's,
and Dr. Hill has changed the place on purpose to give M     y a lick.-Now tight
co.nversation (though perhaps true,) -y6t
happened at another place,* and with an.
other physician; which I have contradicted
in this city, for the honor of my ffieDd
My: all which shows the absurdity of


a fool as to fall foul upon Dr. Warbhurton,
my best friend, by representing hirll so
weak a man, —or by telling such a lie of
him,-as his giving me a purse, to buy off
his tutorship for Tristram -or I should be
fool enough to own I had taken his purse
for that purpose!
You must know there is a quarrel between
Dr. Hill and Dr., M       -y, who was the
physician meant at Mr. Charles Stanhope's,
and Dr. Hill has changed the place on purpose to give M    y a lick. —Now tehat
conversation (though perhaps true,) -yt
happened at another place,* and with an.
other physician; which I have contradicted
in this city, for the honor of my fiiend
M —  y: all which shows the absurdity of






TO THE SAME.




* As the truth of this anecdote is not denied, it may
gratify curiosity to communicate it in Dr. Hill's own
words.-" At the last dinnerthat the late lost-amiable
"ChaLles Stanhope gave to genius, Yorick wras pres"ent. The good old man was vexed to see a pedantic
"medicine-monger take the lead, and prevent that
"pleasantry which good wit and good wine might
"have occasioned, by a discourse in the unintelligible
"language ofbhis profession, concerning the difference
b'; etween the phrenitis and the paraphrenitis, and
"the concomitant categories of the mediastinurm and
"pleura,
"Good-humored Yorick saw the sense of the master
"of the feast. and fell into the cant and jargon of
"physic, as if he had been one of Radcliffe's travellers.
"' The vulgar practice,' says he,' savors too much of
"mechanical principles; the venerable ancients were
"all empirics, and the profession will never regain its
"ancient credit, till practice falls into the old track
"again. I am myself an instance; I caught cold by
"leaning on a damp cushion, and, after sneezing and
"sniveling a fortnight, it fell upon my breast. They
"blooded me, blistered me, and gave me robs and bobs
"and lohocks, and eclegmata; but! grew worse; for
"I was treated according to the exact rules of the
" College. In short, from an inflammation it came to
" a ADHESION, and all was over with me. They
"advised me to go to Bristol. that I might not do them
"the scandal of dying under their hands; and the
"Bristol,people for the same reason consigned me over
"to Lisbon. But what do I? why I considered rn
"adhesion is, in plain English, only a sticking of two
"things together, and that force enough would pull
"them asunder. I bought a good ash-pole, and began
"leaping over all the walls and ditches in the coun" try. From the height of the pole I used to come souse
"down -upon my feet, like an ass, when he tramples
"upon a bull-dog: but it did not do. At last- l, hen
"I had raised myself perpendicularly over a wall, I
"used to fall exactly across thle' ridge of it upon the
"-side opposite to the adhesion. This tore it off at
"once, and I am as you see. Come, fill a glass to thr
"memory of the'empiric medicine.' If he had been
"asked elsewhere about this disorder (for,he reallv
"had a consumptive disorder), he would hart -Gtn
"swered, that he was cured by Htuxham's det(ctulv'
"of the bark, and elixir of vitriol 


Mav. 1760.


DEAR SIR,
I Tils moment received the favor of your
kind letter:-the letter in the Ladies' Magazine,t about; me, was wrote by' the noted
Dr. Hill, who wrote the Inspector, and undertakes that magazine; - the people of
York are very uncharitable to suppose any
man so. gross a beast as to pen such a character of himself —In this great town, no
soul ever suspected it, for a thousand'reasons;-could they suppose I should be such




* Prince Ferdinand, the Marquis of Rockingham,
and Earl Temple, were installed Knights of the Garter, on Tuesday, May 6th, 1760, at Windsor.
t " The Clock-maker's outcry against the author of
Tristram Shaindy." 8vo.
I The Royal Female Magazine, for April, 1760.


— _          - -_                  ____ __ ___ ____
11 once, and I am as'you see. Come, fill a glass to Ulf
" memory of the'empiric medicine.' If he had been
11 asked elsewhere about this disorder (for, he renllv
11 had a consumptive disorder), he wouid hak-t. -ta
11 swered, that he was cured by Huxham's decouiov
11 of the bark, and elixir of vitriol "






334


LETTERS.


York credulity and nonsense. Besides, the  P. S. I am just sitting down to go on
account is full of falsehoods,-first, with with Tristram, &c.-the scribblers use me
regard to the place of my birth, which was ill, but they have used my betters much
at Clonmel, in Ireland,-the story of a hun- worse, for which may God forgive them.
dred pounds to Mrs. V —,* not true, or
of a pension promised; the merit of which
I disclaimed,- and indeed there are so
many other things so untrue, and unlikely          LETTER XI.
to come from me, that the worst enemy I
have here never had a suspicion,-and, to  TO MY WITTY WIDOW, MRS. F —.
end all, Dr. Hill owns the paper.                         Coxwould; Aug. 3, 1760.
I shall be down before May is out;-I     MADAM,
preach before the judges on Sunday;-my   WHEN a man's brains are as dry as a
Sermons come out on Thursday after; — squeez'd orange,-and he feels he has no
and I purpose, the Monday, at furthest, more conceit in him than a mallet,'tis in
after'that, to set out for York;-I havel vain to think of sitting down, and writing a
bought a pair of horses for that purpose:  letter to a lady of your wit, unless in the
my best respects to your Lady.     honest John-Trot style of yours of the 15th
I am, Dear Sir,           instant came safe to hand, 4c., which, by
Your most obliged and faithful  the bye, looks like a letter of business; and
L. STERNE.  you know very well, from the first letter I




P. S. I beg pardon for this hasty scrawl,
having just come from a concert where the
D. of York performed. — I have received
great notice from him, and last week had
the honor of supping with him.
LETTER X.
TO DR. WARBURTON, BISHOP OF
GLOUCESTER.
York, June 9, 1760.
MY LORD,
NOT knowing where to send two sets of
my Sermons, I could think of no better expedient than to order them into Mr. Berrenger's hands, who has promised me that
he will wait upon your Lordship with them,
the first moment he hears you are in town.
r'The truest and humblest thanks I return to
your Lordship, for the generosity of your
protection, and' advice to me; by making a
good use of the one, I will hope to deserve
the other: I wish your Lordship all the
lealth and happiness in this world, for I am
Your Lordship's
Most obliged and
Most grateful Servant,
L. STERNE.
_-~ —--


I
I
I


had the honor to write to you, I am a man
of no business at all. This vile plight I
found my genius in was the reason I have
told Mr. -, I would not write to you till
the next post,-hoping by that time to get
some small recruit, at least of vivacity, if
not wit, to set out with;-but upon second
thoughts, thinking a bad letter in season,to be better than a good one out of it,-this
scrawl is the consequence, which if you
will burn the moment you get it-I promise
to send you a fine set essay in the style of
your female epistolizers, cut and trimm'd at
all points.-God defend me from such, who
never yet knew what it was to say or write
one premeditated word in my whole life;
-for this reason I send you this with pleasure, because wrote with the careless irregularity'of an easy heart. - Who told you,
Garrick wrote the medley for Beard?-'Twas wrote in his house, however, and bofore I left town.-I deny it,-I was not lo.pt
two days before I left town.-I was lost all
the time I was there, and never found till I
got to this Shandy-castle of mine.-Next
winter I intend to sojourn amongst you with
more decorum, and will neither be lost or
found anywhere.
Now I wish to God, I was at your elbow,
-I have just finished one volume of Shandy, and I want to read it to some one who 1


The widow of Mr. Sternes predecessor in the know can taste and relish humor;- this, by
living of Coxwould.                         the way, is a little impudent in me,-fcr I




LETTERS.


335


take the thing for granted, which their high what I will; and besides, must expect to
mightinesses the world have yet to deter- have a party against me of many hundreds.
mine,-but I mean no such thing,-I could -who either do not, or will not laugh. —
wish only to have your opinion;-shall I,'Tis enough if I divide the world; —at least,
in truth, give you mine?-1 dare not, —but I will rest contented with it.-I wish you
I will; provided you keep it to yourself;- was here to see what changes of looks and
know then, that I think there is more laugh- political reasoning have taken place in every
able humor,-with an equal degree of Cer- company and coffee-house since last year.
vantic satire, if not more,-than in the last; We shall be soon Prussians and Anti-Prus-but we are bad.judges of the merit of our sians, B- s and Anti-B-s; and those
children.                              distinctions will just do- as well as Whig
I return you a thousand thanks for your and Tory,-and, for aught I know, serve
friendly congratulations upon my habitation, the same ends. —The King seems re-and I will take care, you shall never wish solved to bring all things back to their orime but well, for I am, Madam,          ginal principles, and to stop the torrent of
With great esteem and truth,       corruption and laziness. lie rises 9ivery
Your most obliged,    morning at six, to do business,-rides out
L. STERNE.  at eight to a minute,-returns at nine, to
P. S. I have wrote this so vilely and so give himself up to his people.-By persisting,
precipitately, I fear you must carry it to a'tis thought he will oblige his ministers and
decipherer.-I beg you'll do me the honor dependantstodispatch affairs with him many
to write,-otherwise you draw me in, in- hours sooner than of late;-and'tis much
stead of Mr.   drawing you into a scrape; to be questioned whether they will not be
-for I should sorrow to have a taste of so enabled to wait upon him sooner, by being
agreeable a correspondent,-and no more. freed from long levees of their own, and
Adieu.   applications; which will in all likelihood be
transferred from them directly to himself,the present system being to remove that
phalanx of great people which stood betwixt
LETTER XII.          the throne and the subjects, and suffer them
rpTO S   C, ESQ.         to have immediate access without the intervention of a cabal-(this is the language of
London, Christmas Day, 1760. others):-however, the King gives every
MY DEAR FRIEND,                    thing himself, knows every thing, and
I HAVE been in such a continual hurry weighs every thing maturely, and then is
since the moment I arrived' here,-what inflexible.-This puts old stagers off their
with my books, and what with visitors and game.-How it will end, we are all in the
visitings, that it was not in my power soon- dark.
er to sit down and acknowledge the favor'Tis feared the war is quite over in Gerof your obliging letter; and to thank you many. Never was known such havoc
fi)r the most friendly motives which led you amongst troops.-I was told yesterday by a
to write it.-I am not much in pain upon Colonel from Germany, that out of two batwhat gives my kind friends at Stillington talions of nine hundred mien, to which he
so much on the chapter of Noses; because, belonged, but seventy-one are left!-Prince
as the principal satire throughout that part Ferdinand has sent word,'us said, that he
is levelled at those learned blockheads who, must have forty thousand men directly to
in all ages, have wasted their time and take the field, - and with provisions for
much learning upon points as foolish, — them too; for he can but subsist them for a
it shifts off the idea of what you fear, to an- fortnight.-I hope this will find you all got
other point:- and'tis thought here very to York. -I' beg my compliments to the
good;-'twill pass muster,-1 mean not amiable Mrs. Croft, &c. &c.
with all:-no, no! I shall be attacked and  Though I purposed going first to Golden
pelted, either from cellars or garrets, write Square, yet Fate has thus long disposed o




336                              LETT
me,-so I Lave never been able to set a foot
towards that quarter.
I am, dear Sir,
Yours affectionately,
L. STERNE.
LETTER XIII.
TO THE SAME,
[About Jan. 1, 1761.
MY DEAR DEAR SIR,
I HAVE just time to acknowledge the
favor of yours; but not to get the two
prints you mention, which shall be sent you
by the next post. I have bought them, and
lent them to Miss Gilbert, but will assuredly
send for them, and inclose them to you. I
will take care to get your pictures well
copied, and at a moderate price: and if I
can be of further use, I beseech you to employ me; and, from time to time, will send
you an account of whatever may be worth
transmitting. -The stream  now sets in
strong against the German war. Loud complaints of  -making a trade
of the war, &c.-much expected from Ld.


ERS.


LETTER XIV.
TO THE SAME.


March, 1761.
DEAR SIR,
SINCE I had the favor of your obliging
letter, nothing has happened, or been said
one day, which has not been contradicted
the next: so having little certain to write,
I have forborne writing at all, in hopes
every day of something worth filling up a
letter. We had the greatest expectations
yesterday that ever were raised, of a pitched
battle in the House of Commons; wherein
Mr. Pitt was to have entered and thrown
down the gauntlet, in defence of the German war.-There never was so full a house:
-the gallery full to the top;-I was there
all the day,-when lo! a political fit of the
gout seized the great combatant:-he entered not the lists. —Beckford got up, and
begged the House, as he saw not his Right
Honorable friend there, to put off the debate.
-It could not be done: so Beckford rose
up, and made a most long, passionate incoherent speech, in defence of the Germanic war,-but very severe upon the unfrugal manner it was carried on;-in which
he addressed himself principally to the
Chancellor of the Exchequer; and laid on


Granby's evidence to these matters, who is him terribly. -It seems the chancery of
expected every hour. The king wins every Hanover had laid out 350,000 pounds on acday upon the people, shows himself much count, and brought in our Treasury debtat the play (but at no opera); rides out with or;- and the grand debate was, for an
his brothers every morning, half an hour honest examination of the particulars of
after seven till nine; returns with them; this extravagant account, and for vouchers
spends an hour with them at breakfast and to authenticate it.-Legge answered Beckchat, and then sits down to business. I ford very rationally and coolly.-Lord N.
never dined at home once since I arrived: spoke long.-Sir F. Dashwood maintained,
and fourteen dinners deep engaged just the German war was most pernicious.-Mr.
now; and fear matters will be worse with C-, of Surrey, spoke well against the
me in that point than better. As to the account, with some others.-L. Barrington
main points in view, at which you hint, all at last got up, and spoke half an hour with
[ can say is, that I see my way,-and, unless great plainness and temper,-explained a
)ld Nick throws the dice, shall, in due time, great many hidden springs relating to these
come off winner.-Tristram will be out the accounts, in favor of the late King, and told
20th.-There is a great rout made about two or three conversations relative to these
him before he enters the stage:-whether expenses;- which cast great honor upon
this will be of use or no, I can't say.-Some the King's character. This was with regard
wits of the first magnitude here, both as to to the money the King had secretly furwit and statior., engage me success;-time nished out of his pocket, to lessen the acwill show                              count of the Hanover-score brought us to
Adieu.   discharge.




LETTERS.


337


Beckford and Barrington abused all who
sought for peace, and joined in the cry for
it; and Beckford added, that the reasons of
wishing a peace now, were the same as the
peace of Utrecht; that the people -behind
the curtain could not both maintain the war
and their places too; so were for making
another sacrifice of the nation to their own
interests. After all, the cry for a peace is
so general, that it will certainly end in one.
-Now for myself.
One half of the town abuse my book as
bitterly as the other half cry it up to the
skies; the best is, they abuse it and buy it,
and at such a rate, that we are going on
with a second edition as fast as possible.
J am going down, for a day or two, with
Mr. Spencer, to Wimbleton. On Wednesday there is to be a grand assembly at Lady
N. I have inquired everywhere about
Stephen's affair; and can hear nothing. My
friend Mr. Charles Townshend, will be now
Secretary of War;* he bid me wish him joy
of it, though not in possession. I will ask
him; and depend, my most worthy friend,
that you shall not be ignorant of what I
learn from him. Believe me ever, ever,
Yours,
L. S.
LETTER XV.
TO THE SAME.
April, 1761.
MY DEAR SIR,
A STRAIN which I got in my wrist by a
terrible fall, prevented my acknowledging
the favor of your obliging letter. I went
yesterday morning to breakfast with Mr.
V, who is a kind of right-hand man to
the Secretary, on purpose to inquire about
the propriety, or feasibility, of doing what
you wish me;-and he has told me an anecdote which, had you been here, would, I
think, have made it wiser to have deferred
speaking about the affair a month hence
than now. It is this:-You must know
that the numbers of officers who have left
their regiments in Germany for the pleas

ures of the town, have been long a topic
of merriment; as you see them   in St.
James's Coffee-house, and-the Park, every
hour, inquiring, open mouth, how things
go on in Germany, and what news,-when
they should have been there to have furnished news themselves:-but the worst
part has been, that many of them have left
their brother officers on their duty, and in
all the fatigues of it, and have come with
no end but to make friends, to be put unfairly over the heads of those who were
left risking their lives.-In this attempt,
there have been some but too successful,
which has justly raised ill-blood and complaints from the officers who staid behind:
the upshot has been, that they have every
soul been ordered off: and woe be to him
('tis said) who shall be found listening!
Now, just to mention our friend's case;
whilst this cry is on foot, I think, would be
doing more hurt than good: but, if you
think otherwise, I will go with all my
heart, and mention it to Mr. Townshend;
for, to do more, I am too inconsiderable a
person to pretend to.-You made me and
my friends here very merry with the accounts current at York, of my being forbid
the court;-but they do not consider what
a considerable person they make of me,
when they suppose either my going, or my
not going there, is a point that ever enters
the King's head;-and, for those about
him, I have the honor either to stand so
personally well known to them, or to be so
well represented by those of the first rank,
as to fear no accident of that kind.
I thank God (B —-'s excepted) I have
never yet made a friend or connexion I
have forfeited, or done aught to forfeit;but, on the contrary, my true character is
better understood; and where I had one
friend last year who did me honor, I have
three now.-If my enemies knew that, by
this rage of abuse and ill-will, they were
effectually serving the interests both of myself and works, they would be more quiet;
-but it has been the fate of my betters;
who have found, that the way to fame is,
like the way to Heaven,-through much
tribulation;-and, till I shall have the hono.
to be as much maitreated as Rabelais ana
Swift were, I must continue humble;-tr
29


* Hle was appointed Secretary at War the 24th of
March, 1761.
2S




338


LETTERS.


I have not filled up the measure of half
their persecutions.
The court is turning topsy-turvy. Lord
Bute le premier; — Lord Talbot to be
Groom of the Chambers,4 in room of the
D. of R-   d;-Lord Halifax to Ireland;
-Sir F. Dashwood in Talbot's place;Pitt seems unmoved;-a peace inevitable;
-stocks rise;-the peers this moment kissing hands, &c. &c. (this week may be
christened the kiss-hands week) for a hundred changes will happen in consequence
of these. Pray present my compliments to
Mrs. C. and all friends, and believe me,
with the greatest fidelity,
Your ever obliged
L. STERNE.
P. S. Is it not strange that Lord Talbot
should have power to remove the Duke of
R:-d
Pray, when you have read this, send the
news to Mrs. Sterne.
LETTER XVI.
TO J-  H — S-, ESQ.
Coxwould, July 28, 1761.
DEAR H-,
I SYMPATHIZED for, or with you, on the.
detail you give me of your late agitations,
-and would willingly have taken my
horse, and trotted to the oracle to have inquired into the etymology of all your sufferings, had I not been assured, that all
that evacuation of bilious matter, with all
that abdominal motion attending it (both
which are equal to a month's purgation
and exercise) will have left you better than
it found you.-Need one go to D      -, to
be told that all kind of mild (mark, I am
going to talk more foolishly than your
apothecary) opening, saponaceous, dirtyshirt, and washing liquors are proper for
you; and, consequently, all styptical potatioris death and destruction.-If you had
not shut up your gall-ducts by these, the


glauber-salts could not have hurt:-as it
was,'twas like a match to the gunpowder,
by raising a fresh combustion, as all physic
does at first; so that you have been let off,
-nitre, brimstone, and charcoal (which is
blackness itself) all at one blast.-'Twas
well the piece did not burst; for I think it
underwent great violence, and, as it is
proof, will, I hope, do much service in this
militating world.-*Panty is mistaken; I
quarrel with no one.-There was that coxcomb of -- in the house, who lost temper
with me for no other reason upon earth but
that I could not fall down and worship a
brazen image of learning and eloquence
which he set up, to the persecution of all
true believers.-I sat down upon his altar,
and whistled in the time of his divine service,-and broke down his carved work,
and kicked his incense-pot to the D-;
so he retreated, sed non sine felle in corde
suo.-I have wrote a clerum, whether I
shall take my doctor's degrees or not. —l
am much in doubt, but I trow not.-I go
on with Tristram.-I have bought seven
hundred books at a purchase, dog-cheap,and many good;-and I have been a week
getting them set up in my best room here:
-Why do not you transport yours to town?
but I talk like a fool.-This will just catch
you at your spaw. I wish you incolumem
apud Londinum. -Do you go there for
good and all,-or ill?-I am, dear cousin,
Yours affectionately,
L. STERNE.
LETTER XVII.
TO THE SAME.
Coxwould [about August] 1761.
DEAR H-,
I REJOICE yOU are in London;-rest you
there in peace:-here'tis the Devil.-You
was a good prophet.-I.wish myself back
again, as you told me I should;-but not
because a thin, death-doing, pestiferous,
north-east wind blows in a line directly
from Crazy Castle turret full upon me, in
this cuckoldy retreat (for I value the northeast wind and all its powers not a straw)but the transition from rapid motion to ab


* Lord Bute was appointed Secretary of State on
(he 25th of March 1761.
t Kurd Talbot was appointed Steward of the Houseaold on the same day.: Lord Halifax was appointed Lord-Lieutenant of
Ireland on the 20th of March, 1761.


* The Rev. Mr. R- L-.




LETTERS.


339


solute rest was too violent.-I should have of wit, though humorous: a funny, jolly soul,
walked about the streets of York ten days, though somewhat splenetic; and (bating
as a proper medium to have passed through, the love of women) as honest as gold;before I entered upon my rest.-I staid but how do you like the simile 1-Oh, Lord!
a moment, and I have been here but a few, now you are going to Ranelagh to-night,
to satisfy me I have not managed my mise- and I am sitting, sorrowful as the prophet
ries like a wise man;-and if God, for my was, when the voice cried out to him, and
consolation under them, had not poured said, "What doest thou here, Elijah'"forth the spirit of Shandeism into me, which'Tis well the spirit does not make the same
will not suffer me to think two moments at Coxwould;-for, unless for the few sheep
upon any grave subject, I would else just left me to take care of in this wilderness, I
now lie down and die,-die;-and yet, in might as well, nay better, be at Mecca.half an hour's time, I'll lay a guinea, I shall When we find we can, by a shifting ofplaces,
be as merry as a monkey,-and as mis-run away from ourselves, what think you
chievous too, and forget it all;-so that this of a jaunt there, before we finally pay a
is but a copy of the present train running visit to the Vale of Jehosaphat?-as ill a
across my brain. -And so you think this fame as we have, I trust I shall one day or
cursed stupid,-but that, my dear H-, other see you face to face.-So tell the two
depends much upon the quota hord of your Colonels, if they love good company, to live
shabby clock; if the pointer of it is in any righteously and soberly as you do, and then
quarter between ten in the morning or four they will have no doubts or dangers within
in the afternoon,-I give it up;-or, if the or without them.- Present my best and
day is obscured by dark engendering clouds warmest wishes to them, and advise the
of either wet or dry weather, I am still lost. eldest to prop up his spirits, and get a rich
-But who knows but it may be five,-and Dowager before the conclusion of the peace:
the day as fine a day as ever shone upon  why will not the advice suit both par
the earth since the destruction of Sodom; nobile fratrum?
-and, peradventure, your Honor may have  To-morrow morning (if Heaven permit)
got a good hearty dinner to-day, and eat and I begin the fifth volume * of Shandy:-I
drunk your intellectuals into a placidulish care not a curse for the critics.-I'll load
and a blandulish amalgama,-to bear non- my vehicle with what goods he sends me,
sense:-so much for that.               and they may take'em off my hands, or let'Tis as cold and churlish just now, as (if them alone. —I am very valorous:-and'tis
God had not pleased it to be so) it ought to in proportion as we retire from the world,
have been in bleak December; and there- and see it in its true dimensions, that we
fore I am glad you are where you are, and despise it.-No bad rant! —God above bless
where (I repeat it again) I wish I was also. you! You know I am
-Curse of poverty, and absence from those          Your affectionate cousin,
we love!-they are two great evils which                   LAURENCE STERNE.
embitter all things;-and yet, with the first,  What few remain of the Demoniacs,
I am not haunted much.-As to matrimony, greet;-and write me a letter, if you are
1 should be a beast to rail at it, for my wife able, as foolish as this.
is easy,-but the world is not;-and, had I
staid from her a second longer, it would
have been a burning shame, else she deLETT~ R XVII.
clares herself happier without one; but not
in anger is this declaration made,-but in          TO LADY
pure sober good sense built on sound ex-      i                           Coxwould, Sept. 21, 17~1.
perience.-She hopes you will be able to,
strike a bargain for me before this time  IRmined to  mynew habite as hard a etwelve-month, to lead a bear round Europe: termined to write as hard as can be, an
and, from this hope from you, I verily be- thank you most cordially, my dear lady, for,
lieve it is, that you are so high in her favor your letter of congratulation upon my Lord
at present. —She swears you are a fellow       * Alluding to the first edition.




340


LETTERS.


Fauconberg's having presented me with the
curacy of this place,'- though your congratulation comes somewhat of the latest,
as I have been possessed of it some time.
-I hope I have been of some service to
his Lordship; and he has sufficiently requited me.-'Tis seventy guineas a year
in my pocket, though worth a hundred;but it obliges me to have a curate to officiate at Sutton and Stillington.-'Tis within
a mile of his Lordship's seat and park.'Tis
a very agreeable ride out in the chaise I
purchased for my wife.-Lyd has a poney,
which she delights in.-Whilst they take
these diversions, I am scribbling away at my
Tristram. These two volumes are, I think,
the best.-I shall write as long as I live;'tis, in fact, my hobby-horse, and so much am
I delighted with my uncle Toby's imaginary
character, that I am become an enthusiast.
-My Lydia helps to copy for me;-and
my wife knits, and listens as I read her
chapters.-The coronation of his Majesty
(whom  God preserve!) has cost me the
value of an ox, which is to be roasted whole
in the middle of the town; and my parishioners will, I suppose, be very merry upon
the occasion.-You will then be in town,and feast your eyes with a sight which,'tis
to be hoped, will notbe in either of our powers
to see again;-for, in point of age, we have
about twenty years the start of his majesty.
-And now, my dear friend, I must finish
this,-and, with every wish for your happiness, conclude myself your most sincere
well-wisher and friend,
L. STERNE.
LETTER XIX.


-By the bye, I am somewhat worse in my
intellectuals; for my head is turned round
with what I see, and the unexpected honors
I have met with here, Tristram was almost as much known here as in London, at
least among your men of condition and learning, and has got me introduced into so many
circles ('tis comme d Londres.) I have just
now a fortnight's dinners and suppers upon
my hands.-My application to the Count de
Choiseul goes on swimmingly; for not only
Mr. Telletiere (who, by the bye, sends ten
thousand civilities to you and Mrs. Garrick)
has undertaken my affair, but the Count de
Iimbourgh. —The Baron d'Holbach has offered any security for the inoffensiveness of my
behavior in France:-'tis more, you rogue,
than you will do!-This Baron is one of the
most learned noblemen here, the great protector of wits, and the Scavans, who are no
wits;-keeps open house three days a week.
-His house is now, as yours was to me, my
own.-He lives at great expense.-'Twas
an odd incident when I was introduced to
the Count de Bissie, which I was at his desire,-I found him reading Tristram.-This
grandee does me great honors, and gives
me leave to go a private way through his
apartments into the Palais Royal, to view
the Duke of Orleans's collections, every day
I have time.-I have been at the doctors of
Sorbonne.-I hope in a fortnight to break
through, or rather from, the delights of this
place, which, in the Scavoir Vivre, exceeds
all the places, I believe, in this section of
the globe.
I am going, when this, letter is wrote,
with Mr. Fox and Mr. Macartney to Versailles. The next morning I wait upon
Mons. Titon, in company with Mr. Macartney, who is known to him, to deliver your
commands.-I have bought you the pamphlet upon theatrical, or rather tragical declamation. I have bought another in verse,
worth reading; and you will receive them,
with what I can pick up this week, by a
servant of Mr. Hodges, whom he is sending
back to England.
I was last night with Mr. Fox to see Mademoiselle Clairon, in Iphigene;-she is extremely great:-would to God you had one
or two like her! What a luxury, to see you
with one of such powers in the same interesting scene!- but'tis too much, - Ah!


TO DAVID GAR]


RICK, ESQ.


Paris, Jan. 31, 1762.
MY DEAR FRIEND,
THINK not, because I have been a fortnight
in this metropolis without writing to you,
that therefore I have not had you and Mrs.
Garrick a hundred times in my head and
heart.-Heart! yes, yes, say you;-but I
must not waste paper in badinage this post,
whitever I do the next. Well! here I am,,iy friend, as much improved in my health,
for the time, as ever your friendship could
ovLsh, or. at least, your faith give credit to.




LETTERS.


341


PreviLe! thou art Mercury hih:no. f.-By all the obliging things you say ill your let.
virtue of taking a couple cf bjxdep, ve have ter:-but'tis impossible:-accept, at least,
oespoke, this week, The F,-erncrrna in Lon- my warmest thanks.-If I could tempt my
don, in which Preville ic to eerd us home friend Mr. H-   to come toFrance, I should
to supper all happy, —I rn.e:i, about fifteen be truly happy.-If I can be of any service
or sixteen English cl distinction, who are to you at Paris, command him who is, and
now here, and live vell with each other.  ever will be,
I am under great obligations to Mr. Pitt,      Your Ladyship's faithful
who has behaved in every respect to me like                      L. STERNE.
a man of good-breeding and good-nature.In a post or two I will write again.-Foley 
is an honest scul.-I could write six volumes
of what has passed comically in this great        LETTER XXI.
scene, since these last fourteen days; but    TO DAVID GARRICK ESQ.
more of this hereafter.-We are all going
into mol-ning; neither you nor Mrs. Gar-                    Paris, March 19,1762.
DEAR GARRICK,
7ick wol'd know me, if you met me in my' -. Bless you both! Se e to'.  THIS will be put into your hands by Dr..' t8P,3. Bless you both! Service to MIrs.-.. Adieu adieu!       Shippen, a physician who has been here'>t*.' Adieu, adieu' 




L. H.




LETTER XX.
TO LADY D-.
London,* Feb. 1. 1762.
YOUR Ladyship's kind inquiries after my
nealth are indeed kind, and of a piece with
the rest of your character. Indeed I am
very ill,,having broke a vessel in my lungs.
-Hard writing in the summer, together
with preaching, which I have not strength
for, is ever fatal to me;-but I cannot avoid
the latter yet; and the former is too pleasurable to be given up.-I believe I shall try if
the south of France will not be of service
to me: his G. of Y. has most humanely given
me the permission for a year or two.-I shall
set off with great hopes of its efficacy, and
shall write to my wife and daughter to come
and join me at Paris, else my stay could not
be so long.-," Le Fevre's story has beguiled
"your Ladyship of your tears;" and the
thought of the accusing spirit flying up to
Heaven's chancery with the oath, you are
kind enough to say, is sublime. My friend
Mr. Garrick thinks so too, and I am most
vain of his approbation. Your Ladyship's
opinion adds not a little to my vanity.
I wish I had time to take a little excursion to Bath, were it only to thank you for




moment setting off for your metropolis: so
I snatch the opportunity of writing to you
and my kind friend Mrs. Garrick.-I see
nothing like her here, and yet I have been
introduced to one half of their best goddesses; and, in a month more, shall be admitted
to the shrines of the other half;-but I neither worship nor fall (much) upon my knees
before them; but, on the contrary, have converted many unto Shandeism;-for be it
known, I Shandy it away fifty times more
than I ever was wont, talk more nonsense
than ever you heard me talk in your days,
and to all sorts of people.  Qui le diable
est cet homme-ld, said Choiseul, t'other day,
ce Chevalier Shandy.-You'll think me as
vain as a Devil, was I to tell you the rest
of the dialogue:-whether the bearer knows
it or not, I know not.-'Twill serve up after
supper, in Southampton-street, amongst
other small dishes, after the fatigues of Richard the Third.-O God! they have nothing
here which gives the nerves so smart a blow
as those great characters in the hands of Garrick!-but I forgot I am writing to the man
himself-The Devil take (as ne-will) these
transports of enthusiasm! Apropos:-The
whole city of'Paris is betitch'd with the
comic opera; and if it was not for the affair
of the Jesuits, which takes up one half of
our talk, the comic opera would have it
all. It is a tragical nuisance in all companies as it is; and, was it not for some sudden
starts and dashes of Shandeisnm, which now
29*


I


* This letter, though dated from London, was evidently written at Paris.






342                              LETTERS.
and then either break the thread, or entan- have said kingdom, but here every thing
gle it so, that the Devil himself would be is hyperbolized; —and if a woman is but
puzzled in winding it off,-I should die a simply pleased, —'tis Je suis charme;-and
martyr:-.this, by the way, I never will.  if she is charmed,'tis nothing less than that
I send you over some of these comic she is ravi-sh'd;-and when ravish'd (which
operas by the bearer, with the Sallon, a may happen), there is nothing left for her
satire.-The French comedy, I seldom visit but to fly to the other world for a metaphor,
it;-they act scarce any thing but trage- and swear, Qu'elle etoit tout extasie;dies;-and the Clairon is great, and Made- which mode of speaking is, by the bye, here
moiselle Dumesnil, in some places, still creeping into use; and there is scarce a
greater than hler;- yet I cannot bear woman who understands the bon ton, but is
preaching: I fancy I got a surfeit of it in seven times in a day in downright ecstacy;
my younger days.-There is a tragedy to -that is, the Devil's in her,-by a small
be damned to-night; peace be with it, and mistake of one word for the other.-Now.
the gentle brain which made it! I have ten where am I got?
thousand things to tell'you I cannot write.  I have been these two days reading a
I do a thousand things which cut no figure tragedy, given me by a lady of talent tc
but in the doing;-and, as in London, I read; and conjecture if it would do for you:
have the honor of having done and said a -'Tis from the plan of Diderot; and possithousand things I never did or dreamt of,- bly half a translation of it:-The Natural
and yet I dream abundantly.-If the Devil Son, or the Triumph of Virtue, in five acts.
stood behind me in the shape of a courier, -It has too much sentiment in it, (at least
I could not write faster than I do, having for me), the speeches too long, and savor
five letters more to dispatch by the same too much of preaching;-tlis may be a
gentleman; he is going into another sec- second reason it is not to my taste.-'Tis
tion of the globe; and when he has seen all love, love, love, throughout, without
you, he will depart in peace.          much separation in the character; so I fear
The Duke of Orleans has suffered my it would not do for your stage, and perhaps
portrait to be added to the number of some for the very reasons which recommend it to
odd men in his collection; and a gentleman, a French one.-After a vile suspension of
who lives with him, has taken it most ex- three weeks, we are beginning with our
pressively at full length. I purpose-to ob- comedies and operas again:-yours, I hear,
tain an etching of it, and to send it you. never flourished more; - here, the comic
Your prayer for me, of rosy health, is heard. actors were never so low;-the tragedians
If I stay here for three or four months, I hold up their heads, in all senses. I have
shall return more than reinstated.-My known one little man, support the theatrical
love to Mrs. Garrick.                  world, like a- David Atlas, upon his shoulI am, my dear Garrick,          ders; but Preville can't do half as much
Your most humble servant,   here, though Mademoiselle Clairon stands
L. STERNE.  by him, and sets her back to his:-she is
very great, however, and highly improved
since you saw her;-she also supports her
dignity at table, and has her public day
LETTER XXII.               every Thursday, when she gives to eat (as
they say here) to all that are hungry and
TO THE SAME.
dry.
Paris, April 10, 1762.  You are much talked of here, and much
MY DEAR GARRICK,                  expected, as soon as the peace will let you.
I SNATCH the occasion of Mr. Wilcox (the -These two last days you have happened
late Bishop of Rochester's son) leaving this to engross the whole conversation at two
place for England, to write to you: and I great houses where I was at'dinner.-'Tis
inclose it to Hall, who will put it into your the greatest problem in nature, in this melrand, possibly behind the scenes. I hear ridian, that one and the same man should
no news of you or your empire; I would possess such tragic and comic powers, and




LETTERS.


343


m such an equilibrio, as to divide the world
for which of the two Nature intended him.
Crebillion has made a convention with
me, which, if he is not too lazy, will be no
bad persiflage:-As soon as I get to Toulouse, he has agreed to write me an expostulatory letter upon the indecorurs of T.
Shandy;-which is to be answered by recrimination upon the liberties in his own
works:-these are to be printed together,Crebillion against Sterne; —Sterne against
Crebillion:-the copy to be sold, and the
money equally divided.-This is good Swisspolicy.
I am recovered greatly; and if I could
~spend one whole winter at Toulouse, I
should be fortified, in my inner man, beyond all danger of relapsing.-A sad asthma my daughter has been martyr'd with
these three winters (but mostly this last),
makes it, I fear, necessary she should try
the last remedy of a warmer and softer air;
so I am going this week to Versailles, to
wait upon Count Choiseul to solicit passports for them.-If this system takes place,
they join me here;-and, after a month's
stay, we all decamp for the south of France:
-if not, I shall see you in June next. Mr.
Fox and Mr. Macartney having left Paris,
I live altogether in French families.-I
laugh till I cry, and, in the same tender
moments, cry till I laugh. I Shandy it
more than ever; and verily do believe, that
by mere Shandeism, sublimated by a laughter-loving people, I fence as much against
infirmities as I do by the benefit of air and
climate. Adieu, dear Garrick:-present
ten thousand of my best respects and wishes
to and for my friend Mrs. Garrick;-had
she been last night upon the Thuilleries,
she would have annihilated a thousand
French goddesses in one single turn.
I am, most truly,
My dear friend,
L. STERNE.
LETTER XXIII.
TO MRS. STERNE, YORK.
Paris, May 16, 1762.
AMY DEAR,
IT is a thousand to one that this reaches
eou before you have set out;-however, I
take the chance.-You will receive one


wrote last night, the moment you get to
Mr. E. and to wish you joy of your arrival
in town.-To that letter, which you will
find in town, I have nothing to add that I
can think on, for I have almost drain'd my
brains dry upon the subject. For God's
sake, rise early and gallop away in the cool;
-and always see that you have not forgot
your baggage in changing post-chaises.You will find good tea upon the road, from
York to Dover;-only bring a little to carry
you from Calais to Paris.-Give the customhouse officers what I told you;-at Calais
give more, if you have much Scotch. snuff;
-but as tobacco is good here, you had best
bring a Scotch-mill and make it yourself;
that is, order your valet to manufacture it;
-'twill keep him out of mischief.-I would
advise you to take three days in coming up,
for fear of heating yourselves.-See that
they do not give you a bad vehicle, when a
better is in the yard; but you will look
sharp.-Drink small Rhenish, to keep you
cool (that is, if you like it). Live well, and
deny yourselves nothing your hearts wish.
So God in Heaven prosper and go along
with you! —kiss my Lydia, and believe me
both affectionately,


Yours,
L. STERNE.


LETTER XXIV.
TO THE SAME.
Paris, May 31,1762.
MY DEAR,
THERE have no mails arrived here till
this morning, for three posts; so I expected,
with great impatience, a letter from you
and Lydia;-and lo! it is arrived. You
are as busy. as Throp's wife; and by the
time you receive this, you will be busier
still.-I have exhausted all my, ideas about
your journey,-and what is needful for you
to do before and during it;-so I write only
to tell you I am well.-Mr. Colebrooks,
the minister of Swisserland's secretary, I
got this morning to write a letter for you
to the governor of the custom-house office,
at Calais: it shall be sent you next post.-.
You must be cautious about Scotch snuft;
-take half a pound in your pocket, ani




344


LETTERS.


make Lyd do the same.'Tis well I bought necessity of bringing three hundred pounds
you a chaise;-there is no getting one in in your pocket. - If you consider, Lydia
Paris now, but at an enormous price,-for must have two slight negligees:-you will
they are all sent to the army; and such a want a new gown or two.-As for painted
one as yours we have not been able to linens, buy them  in town-they will be
match for forty guineas, for a friend of mine more admired because English than French.
who is going from hence to Italy.-The -Mrs. H. writes me word that I am misweather was never known to have set in so taken about buying silk cheaper at Toulouse
hot as it has done the latter end of this than Paris; that she advises you to buy what
month; so he and his party are to get into you want here,-where they are very beauhis chaise by four in the morning, and tiful and cheap, as well as blonds, gauzes,
travel till nine,-and not stir out again till &c.-These, I say, will all cost you sixty
six;-but I hope this severe heat will abate guineas;-and you must have them;-for
by the time you come here:-however, I in this country nothing must be spared for
beg of you once more to take special care the back:-and if you dine on an onion,
of heating your blood in travelling, and and lie in a garret seven stories high, you
come tout doucement when you find the must not betray it in your clothes: accordheat too much. I shall look impatiently ing to which, you are well or ill look'd
for intelligence from you, and hope to hear on.-WVhen we are got to Toulouse, we
all goes well; that you conquer all difficul- must begin to turn the penny; and we may
ties, that you have received your passport, (if you do not game much) live very cheap.
my picture, &c. Write, and tell me some- -I think that expression will divert you;
thing of every thing. I long to see you -and now, God knows, I have, not a wish
both, you may be assured, my dear wife but for your health, comfort, and safe arriand child, after so long a separation;-and val here.-Write to me every other post,
write me a line directly, that I may have that I may know how you go on.-You
all the notice you can give me,-that I may will be in raptures with your chariot:-Mr.
have apartments ready and fit for you when R. a gentleman of fortune, who is going to
you arrive.-For my own part, I shall con- Italy, and has seen it, has offered me thirty
tinue writing to you a fortnight longer.-  guineas for my bargain. You will wonder
Present my respects to all friends.-You all the way, how I am to find room in it for
have bid Mr. C. get my visitations at P. a third. To ease you of this wonder,'tis
done for me, &c. &c. If any offers are by what the coachmakers here call a Cave;
made about the inclosure at Rascal, they which is a second bottom added to that you
must be inclosed to me;-nothing that is set your feet upon, which lets the person
fairly proposed shall stand still on my score. (who sits over-against you) down with his
Do all for the best, as He who guides all knees to your ancles; and by which you
things will, I hope, do for us!-so Heaven have all more room,-and, what is more,
preserve you both!-believe me         less heat,-because his head does' not interYour affectionate   cept the fore-glass, -little or nothing.L. STERNE. Lyd and I will enjoy this by turns; someLove to my Lydia.-I have bought her times I shall take a bidet (a little post-horse)
a gold watch, to present to her when she and scamper before:-at other times I shall
comes.                                 sit in fresco upon the arm-chair without
doors! and one way or other will do very
well.-I am under infinite obligations to
LETTER XXV.                 Mr. Thornhill, for accommodating me thus;
TO THE SAME.              and so genteelly, for'tis like making a
Paris, June 7, 1762. present of it.-Mr. T  will send you an
MY DEAR,                           order to receive it at Calais:-and now, my
I KEEP my promise, and write to you dear girls, have I forgot any thing?
again.-I am sorry the bureau must be         Adieu! adieu!
ooen'd for the deeds;-but you will see it        Yours, most affectionately,
done.-I imagine you are convinced of the                           L. STERNE.




LETT
A week or ten days wil' enable you tol
see every thing; —and go long you must
stay to rest yoir bones.
LETTER XXV1.
TO THE SAME.




Paris, June 14, 1762.
M-Y DEAREST,
HAVING an opportunity of writing by a
friend who is setting out this morning for
London, I write again, in case the two last
letters I have wrote this week to you,
should be detained by contrary winds at
Calais.-I have wrote to Mr. E —, by the
same hand, to thank him for his kindness
to you, in the handsomest manner I could;
-and have told him, his good heart, and
his wife's, have made them overlook the
trouble of having you at his house; but
that if he takes you apartments near him,
they will have occasion still enough left to
show their friendship to us.-I have begged
him to assist you, and stand by you as if he
was in my place, with regard to the sale
of the Shandys;-and then the copyright.
-Mark to keep these things distinct in
your head: —but Becket, I have ever found
to be a man of probity, and, I dare say,
you will have very little trouble in finishing
matters with him: and I would rather wish
you to treat with him than with another
man;-but whoever buys the fifth and sixth
volumes of the Shandys, must have the
nay-say of the seventh and eighth.*- I
wish, when you come here, in case the
weather is too hot to travel, you could think
it pleasant to go to the Spa for four or six
weeks, where we could live for half the
money we should spend at Paris.:-after
that, we should take the sweetest season of
the vintage to go to the south of France;
but we will put our heads together, and you
sha ll just do as you please in this, and in
every thing which depends on me,-for I
am a being perfectly contented when others
are pleased;-to bear and forbear will ever
be my maxim, - only I fear the heats
through a journey of five hundred miles
for you and my Lydia, more than for my-'ERS.                             345
self. -Do not forget the watch-chains;
bring a couple for a gentleman's watch
likewise: we shall lie under great obligations to the Abbe M., and must make him
such a small acknowledgment:-according
to my way of flourishing,'<twill be a present worth a kingdom to him,-They have
bad pins and vile needles here;-bring
for yourself, and some for presents;-as also
a strong bottle-screw for whatever scrub
we may hire as butler, coachman, &c. to
uncork us our Frontiniac.-You will find
a letter for you at the Lyon d'Argent.Send for your chaise into the court-yard,
and see all is right.-Buy a chain at Calais,
strong enough Inot to be cut off; and let
your portmanteau be tied on the' fore-part
of your chaise, for fear of a dog's trick:so God bless you both, and remember me to
my Lydia.


I am yours affectionately,
L. STERNE
LETTER XXVII.
TO THE SAME.
Paris, June 17, 1762.
MY DEAREST,
PROBABLY you will receive another letter
with this, by the same post;-if so, read
this the last.-It will be the last you can
possibly receive at York; for I hope it
will catch you just as you are upon the
wing:-if that should happen, I suppose, in
course, you have executed the contents of it,
in all things which relate to pecuniary
matters; and when these are settled to
your mind, you will have got through your
last difficulty:-every thing else will be a
step of pleasure; and by the time you have
got half a dozen stages, you will set up
your pipes and sing Te Deum together, as
you whisk it along.-Desire Mr. C-  to
send me a proper letter of attorney by you 
he will receive it back by return of post.
You have done every thing well with regard to our Sutton and Stillington affairs,
and left things in the best channel. -If I
was not sure you must have long since got
my picture, garnets, &c. I would write
and scold Mr. T —    abominably,-he put
them in Becket's hands, to be forwarded by
the stage-coach to you, as soon as he got


* Alluding to the first edition.
2T




316


LETTERS.


to town.-I long to hear from you, and that still.-As I will not have F.'s share of the
all my letters and things are come safe to books, you will inform him so.-Give my
you, and then you will say I have not been love to Mr. Fothergill, and to those true
a bad lad; for you will find I have been friends which envy has spared me;-and
writing continually, as I wished yon to do. for the rest, laissez passer.-You will find
-Bring your silver coffee-pot:'twill serve I speak French tolerably; but I only wish
both to give water, lemonade, and or- to be understood.-You will soon speak
jead;-to say nothing of coffee and choco- better; a month's play with a French De.
late, which, by the bye, is both cheap and moiselle will make Iyd chatter like a maggood at Toulouse, like other things.-I had pie. Mrs. - understood not a word of it
like to have forgot a most necessary thing: when she got here; and writes me word she
-there are no copper tea-kettles to be had begins to prate apace:-you will do the
in France; and we shall find such a thing same in a fortnight.-Dear Bess, I have a
the most comfortable utensil in the house: thousand wishes; but have a hope for every
-buy a good strong one, which will hold one of them;-you shall chant the same
two quarts:-a dish of tea will be of corn- jubilate, my dears: so God bless you! My
fort to us in our journey south.-I have a duty to Lydia, which implies my love too.
bronze tea-pot, which we will carry also: Adieu. Believe me
-as china cannot be brought over from                     Your affectionate
England, we must make up a villanous                                L. STERNE
party-colored tea equipage, to regale our-  Memorandum.-Bring watch-chains, teaselves, and our English friends, whilst we kettle, knives, cookery-book, &c.
are at Toulouse.-I hope you have got your  You will smile at this last article-so
bill from Becket.-There is a good-natured adieu.-At Dover, the Cross Keys; at Calais,
kind of a trader I have just heard of, at Mr. the Lyon d'Argent,-the master, a Turk
Foley's, who they think will be coming off in grain.
from England to France, with horses, the
latter end of June. He happened to come
over with a lady, who is sister to Mr. Foley's partner; and I have got her to write        LETTER XXVIII.
a letter to him in London, this post, to beg
he will seek you out at Mr. E-'s; and,
in case a cartel-ship does not go off before                   Paris, July 9, 1762.
he goes, to take you under his care. He  I WILL not send your Ladyship the trifles
was infinitely friendly, in the same office, you bid me purchase, without a line. I am
last year, to the lady who now writes to him, very well pleased with Paris. Indeed I
and nursed her on shipboard, and defended meet with so many civilities amongst the
her by land with great good-will.-Do not people here, that I must sing' their praises:
say I forget you, or whatever can be con- -the French have a great deal of urbanity
ducive to your ease of mind in this journey. in their composition; and to stay a little
-I wish I was with you, to do these offices time amongst them will be agreeable.-i
myself, and to strew roses on your way; splutter French so as to be understood;but I shall have time and occasion to show but I have had a droll adventure here, in
you I am not wanting. -Now, my dears, which my Latin was of some service to
once more pluck up your spirits,-trust in me;-I had hired a chaise and a horse to
God,-in me,-and in yourselves; -with go about seven miles into the country, but
this, was you put to it, you would encounter Shandean-like, did not take notice that the
all these difficulties ten times told.-Write horse was almost dead when I took him.instantly, and tell me you triumph over all Before I got half-way, the poor animal dropfears; tell me Lydia is better, and a help- ped down dead;-so I was forced to appear
mate to you.-You say she grows like me: before the police, and began to tell my
let her snow me she does so in her con- story in French, which was that the poor
temptof small dangers, and fighting against beast had to do with a worse beast than
tno apprehensions of them, which is better himself, namely, his master, who had driven




LETTERS.


347


him  all the day before (Jehu-lrke)-and to have left it behind us at Paris, we knew
that he had neither had corn or hay, there- not when or how to get it to our friend.fore I was not to pay for the horse;-but I I wish it had been better worth a paragraph.
might as well have whistled as have spoke If there is any thing we can, buy or proFrench; and I believe my Latin was equal cure for you here (intelligence included)
to my uncle Toby's Lillibullero, -being you have a right to command me,-for I
not understood, because of its purity; but am yours, with my wife and girl's, kind
by dint of words I forced my judge to do love to you and Mrs. E.
me justice:-no common thing, by the way,                       L. STERNE.
in France. My wife and daughter are arrived: the latter does nothing but look out 
of the window, and complain of the torment
of being frizzled.-I wish she may ever           LETTER XXX.
remain a child of Nature:-  hate children
of Art.                                       TO J-   H   S-, ESQ.
I hope this will find your Ladyship well;            Toulouse, August 12, 1762.
-and that you will be kind enough to di-  MY DEAR H.
rect to me at Toulouse; which place I shall  BY the time you have got to the end of
set out for very soon.                this long letter, you will perceive that I
I am, with truth and sincerity,  have not been able to answer your last till
Your Ladyship's           now:-I have had the intention of doing it
Most faithful   almost as often as my prayers in my head:
L. STERNE.  -'tis thus we use our best friends.-What




LETTER XXIX.
TO MR. E.
Paris, July 12, 1762.
DEAR SIR,
MY wife and daughter arrived here safe
and sound on Thursday, and are in high
raptures with the speed and pleasantness
of their journey; and, particularly, of all
they see and meet with here. But in their
journey from York to Paris, nothing has
given them a more sensible and lasting
pleasure than the marks of kindness they
received from  you and -Mrs. E.-The
friendship, good-will, and politeness of my
two fiiends, I never doubted to me or mine;
and I return you both all a grateful man is
capable of, which is merely my thanks.-I
have taken, however, the liberty of sending
an Indian taffety, which Mrs. E. must do
me the honor to wear for my wife's sake;
who would have got it made up, but that
Mr. Stanhope, the Consul of Algiers, who
sets off to-morrow morning for London,
has been so kind (I mean his lady) as to
take charge of it; and we had but just time
to procure it: and had we missed that opportunity, as we should have been obliged


an infamous story is tiat you have told me!
-After some little remarks on it, the rest
of my letter will go on like silk. ****-is a
good-natured old easy fool, and ihas been
deceived by the most artful of her sex; and
she must have abundance of impudence and
charlatanry, to have carried on such a farce.
I pity the old man for being taken in for so
much money;-a man of sense I should
have laughed at.-My wife saw her when
in town, and she had not the appearance of
poverty; but when she wants to melt ****'s
heart, she puts her gold-watch and diamond
rings in her drawer.-But he might have
been aware of her.-I could not have been
mistaken in her character;-and'tis odd
she should talk of her wealth to one, and
tell another the reverse;-so good-night to
her.-About a week or ten days before my
wife arrived at Paris, I had the same accident I had at Cambridge, of breaking a
vessel in my lungs. It happened in the
night,-and I bled the bed full; and finding
in the morning 1 was likely to bleed to
death, I sent immediately for a surgeon to
bleed me at both arms:-this saved me,
and with lying speechless three days, I recovered upon my back in bed; the breacL
healed,'and, in a week after, I got out.This, with my weakness and hurrying
about, made me think it high time to haste




348


LETTERS.


to Toulouse. We have had four months of Well, write on, my dear cousin, and be
such heats, that the oldest Frenchman guided by thy own fancy.-Oh! how I envy
never remembers the like:-'twas as hot you all at Crazy Castle!-I could like to
as Nebuchadnezzar's oven, and never has spend a month with you; and should return
relaxed one -hour:-in the height of this, back again for the vintage. —I honor the'twas our destiny (or rather destruction) man that has given the world an idea of our
to set out by way of Lyons, Montpellier, parental seat;'tis well done.-I look at it
&c. to shorten, I trow, our sufferings. — ten times a day with a quando te aspiciam?
Good God!-but'tis over;-and here I am -Now   farewell! -remember me to my
in my own house, quite settled by M-'s beloved Colonel;-greet Panty most lovaid and good-natured offices; for which I ingly on my behalf; and, if Mrs. C  and
owe him more than I can express, or know Miss C —, &c. are at G-, greet them
how to pay at present.'Tis in the pretti- likewise with a holy kiss; —so God bless
est situation in Toulouse, with near two you!
acres of garden;-the house too good by                                  L. S.
half for us,-well furnished; for which I
pay thirty pounds a year.-I have got a
good cook,-my wife a decent femme de
chambre,- and a good-looking laquais.             LETTER XXXI.
The Abbe has planned our expenses, and
TO MR. FOLEY, AT PARIS.
set us in such a train, we cannot easily go
wrong;-though, by the bye, the D-1 is                     Toulouse, Aug. 14,1762.
seldom found sleeping under a hedge. Mr.   MY DEAR FOLEY,
Trotter dined with me the day before I   AFTER many turnings (alias digressions)
left Paris.-I took care to see all executed to say nothing of downright overthrows,
according to your directions; but Trotter, I stops, and delays, we have arrived in three
dare say, by this, has wrote to you. I made weeks at Toulouse, and are now settled in
him happy beyond expression with your our house with servants, &c. about us, and
Crazy Tales; and more so with its' frontis- look as composed as if we had been here
piece. -I am in spirits, writing a crazy seven years.- In our journey we suffered
chapter, with my face turned towards thy so much from the heats, it gives me pain to
turret.-'Tis now I wish all warmer cli- remember it:-I never saw a cloud from
mates, countries, and every thing else, at Paris to Nismes half as broad as a twenty-, that separates me from our, paternal four sols piece.- Good God! we were
seat;-ce sera la oif reposera ma cendre,- toasted, roasted, grill'd, stew'd, and carbonet ce sera ld oft mon cousin viendra repon- aded on one side or other all the way;dre les pleurs dues a notre amitid.-I am and being all done enough (assez cults) in
taking asses' milk three times a day, and the day, we were eat up at night by bugs,
cows' milk as often. I long to see thy face and other unswept-out vermin; the legal
again once more.-Greet the Colonel kindly inhabitants (if length of possession gives
in my name; and thank him cordially from right) of every inn we lay at.-Can you
me, for his many civilities to Madame and conceive a worse accident than that in such
Mademoiselle Shandy at York, who send a journey, in the hottest day and hour of it,
all due acknowledgments. The humor -is four miles fiom either tree or shrub which
over for France and Frenchmen; but that could cast a shade of the size of one of Eve's
is not enough for your affectionate cousin, fig-leaves, —that we should break a hindL. s. wheel into ten thousand pieces, and be
(A year will tire us all out, I trow) but, obliged in consequence to sit five hours on
thank Heaven, the post brings me a letter a gravelly road, without one drop of water,
from my Anthony.-I felicitate'you upon or possibility of getting any!-To mend the
what Messrs. the Reviewers allow you; matter, my two postilions were two doughthey have too much judgment themselves hearted fools, and fell a-crying.-Nothing
not to allow you what you are actually was to be done! By Heaven, quoth I, pullpossessed of,'" talents. wit, and humor."- ing off my coat and waistcoat, something




LETTERS.


384


shall be done, for I'll thrash you both within friend, and believe that I love you as much
an inch of your lives,-and then make you from inclination as reason, fbr
take each of you a horse, and ride like two        I am most truly yours,
devils to the next post for a cart to carry                       L. STERNE.
my baggage, and a wheel to carry our-    My wife and girl join in compliments to
selves,!-Our luggage weighed ten quin- you.-My best respects to my worthy Baron
tals.-'Twas the fair of Baucaire:-all the d'Holbach, and all that society.-Remember
world was going or returning:-we were me to my friend Mr. Panchaud.
ask'd by every soul who pass'd by us, If we
were going to the fair of Baucaire — No
wonder, quoth I, we have goods enough!
Vous avez raison, mes amis.                      LETTER XXXII.
Well, here we are, after all, my dear
friend,-and most deliciously placed at the   TO J     H-     S —, ESQ.
extremity of the town, in an excellent                     Toulouse, Oct. 19, 1762.
house, well furnish'd, and elegant beyond  MY DEAR H-,
any thing I look'd for.-'Tis built in the  I RECEIVED your letter yesterday;-so
form of a hotel, with a pretty court towards has been travelling from Crazy Castle to
the town;-and behind, the best garden in Toulouse full eighteen days:-if I had noToulouse, laid out in serpentine walks; and thing to stop me, I would engage to set out
so large, that the company in our quarter this morning, and knock at Crazy Castle
usually come to walk there in the evening, gates in three days less time;-by which
for which they have my consent:-" the time, I should find you and the Colonel,
"more the merrier."  The house consists Panty, &c. all alone;-the season I most
of a good salle a manger above stairs, join- wish and like to be with you.-I rejoice
ing to the very great salle, d compagnie as from my heart, down to my reins, that' you
large as the Baron d'Holbach's; three hand- have snatch'd so many happy and sunshiny
some bed-chambers, with dressing-rooms to days out'of the hands of the blue devils.them;-below stairs, two very good rooms If we live to meet and join our forces as
for myself; one to study in, the other to heretofore, we will give these gentry a
see company.-I have moreover cellars drubbing, and turn them for ever out of their
round the court, and all other offices.-Of usurped citadel:- some legions of them
the same landlord, I have bargained to have have been put to flight, already by your
the use of a country-house, which he has operations this last campaign, and I hope to
two miles out of town; so that myself and have a hand in dispersing the remainder,
all my family have nothing more to do than the first time my dear cousin sets up his
to take our hats and remove from the one banners again under the square tower.to the other.-My landlord is moreover to But what art thou meditating with axes and
keep the gardens in order:-and what do hammers?-"I know the pride and the
you think I am to pay for all this? Neither "naughtiness of thy heart," and thou lovest
more nor less than thirty pounds a year! the sweet visions of architraves, friezes, and
All things are cheap in proportion:-so pediments with their tympanums; and thou
we shall live for very little.-I dined yes- hast found out a pretence a raison de cinq
terday with Mr. H  -  he is most pleas- cent livres sterling, to be laid out in four
antly situated; and they are all well. —As years, &c. &c. (so as not to be felt, which
for the books you have received for D —, is always added -by the D —1 as a bait) to
the bookseller was a fool not to send the justify thyself unto thyself. —It may bevery
bill along with them,-I will write to him wise to do this;-but it is wiser to keep
about it.-I wish you was with me for two one's money in one's pocket; whilst there
months; it would cure you of all evils, are wars without, and rumors of wars
ghostly and bodily: but this, like many other within. St.,-   advises his disciples to sell
wishes both for you and myself, must have both coat and waistcoat,- and go rathex
its completion elsewhere.-Adieu, my kind without shirt or sword, than leave no ma,
30




350


LETTERS.


ney in their scrip to go to Jerusalem with. though it will not be as sour as lemon, yet
-Now those quatre ans consecutifs, my'twill not be as sweet as sugar-candy.-I
dear Anthony, are the most precious mor- wish T- would lead Sir Charles to Tousels of thy life to come (in this world;) and louse;'tis as good as any town in the south
thou wilt do well to enjoy that morsel with- of France.-For my own part,-'tis not to
out cares, calculations, and curses, and my taste;-but I believe, the groundwork
damns, and debts;-for as sure as stone is of my ennui is more to the eternal platitude
stone, and mortar is mortar, &c.'twill be of the French character:-little variety,
one of the many works of thy repentance. no originality in it at all,-than to any other
-But after all,'' if the Fates have decreed cause, for they are very civil; but civility
" it," as you and I have sometimes supposed itself, in that uniform, wearies and bothers
it,-on account of your generosity, "that one to death.-If I don't mind, I shall grow
"you are never to be a moneyed man," the most stupid and sententious.-Miss Shandy
decree will be fulfilled whether you adorn is hard at it with music, dancing, and French
your castle, and line it with cedar, and paint speaking; in the last of which she does d
it withinside and withoutside with vermil- merveille, and speaks it with an excellent
ion, or not,-et cele etant (having a bottle accent, considering she practises within
of Frontiniac and glass at my right hand) sight of the Pyrenean Mountains.-If the
I drink, dear Anthony, to, thy health and snows will suffer me, I propose to spend twc
happiness, and to the final accomplishments or three months at Barege, or Bagnieres,
of all thy lunary and sublunary projects. but my dear wife is against all schemes ot
For six weeks together, after I wrote my additional expenses; which wicked propenlast letter to you, my projects were many sity (though not of despotic power) yet I
stories higher; for I was all that time, as I cannot suffer,-though, by the bye, laudathought, journeying on to the other world. ble enough.-But she may talk;-I will d6
-I fell ill of an epidemic vile fever, which my own way; and she will acquiesce without
killed hundreds about me.-The physicians a word of debate on the subject.-Who can
here are the errantest charlatans in Europe, say so much in praise of his wife? Few, I
or the most ignorant of all pretending fools. trow.-M — is out of town, vintaging;-I withdrew what was left of me out of so write me, Monsieur Sterne, gentilhomme
their hands, and recommended my affair en- Anglois:-'twill find me.-CWe are as much
tirely to Dame Nature: she (dear goddess) out of the road of all intelligence here, as
has saved me in fifty different pinching at the Cape of Good Hope;-so write a long
bouts; and I begin to have a kind of enthu- nonsensical letter like this, now and then,
siasm now in her favor, and in my own, that to me;-in which, say nothing but what
one or two more escapes will make me be- may be shown (though I love every paralieve I shall leave you all at last by transla- graph and spirited stroke of your pen, others
tion, and not by fair death. I am now stout might not); for you must know, a letter no
and foolish again as a happy man can wish' sooner arrives from England, but Curiosity
to be;'and am busy playing the fool with is upon her knees to know the contents.my uncle Toby, whom I have got soused Adieu, dear H. believe me
over head and ears in love -I have many                   Your affectionate
hints and projects for other works: all will                       L. STERNE.
go on I trust as I wish in this matter.-  We have had bitter cold weather here
When I have reaped the benefit of this win- these fourteen days,-which has obliged us
ter at Toulouse, I cannot see I have any to sit with whole pagells of wood lighted up
thing more to do with it; therefore, after to our noses; —'tis a dear article;-but every
having gone with my wife and girl to Bag- thing else being extreme cheap, Madame
nieres, I shall return from whence I came. keeps an excellent good house, with soupe,
-Now my wife wants to stay another year bouilli, roti,-&c. &c. for two hundred and
To save m ney; and tnis opposition of wishes, fifty pounds a year.




LETTERS.


351


LETTER XXXII.
TO MR. FOLEY, AT PARIS.
Toulouse, Nov. 9, 1762.
MY DEAR FOLEY,
I HAVE this week your letter on my table,
and hope you will forgive my not answering it sooner;-and even to-day I can but
write you ten lines, being engaged at Mrs.
M-'s. I would not omit one post more
acknowledging the favor.-In a few posts I
will write you a long one gratis; that isi for
love.-Thank you for having done what I
desired you;-and for the future direct to
mne under cover at Monsieur Brousse's:-I
receive all letters through him, more punctual and sooner than when left at the posthouse.



practising a play we are to act here this
Christmas holidays;-all the dranmatis persone are of the English, of which we have
a happy society, living together like brothers
and sisters.-Your banker here has-just sent
me word, the tea Mr. H - wrote for, is to
be delivered into my hands;-'tis all one
into whose hands the treasure falls; we shall
pay Brousse for it the day we get it.-We
join in our most friendly respects, and believe me, dear Foley, truly yours,
L. STERNE.
LETTER XXXV.
TO THE SAME.


I




H —'s family greet you with mine;-                      Toulouse, Dec. 17,1762.
we are much together, and never forget    MY DEAR FOLEY,
you.-Forget me not to the Baron, and all  THE post after I wrote last, I received
the circle;-nor to your domestic circle.  yours, with the inclosed draught upon ti e
I am got pretty well, and sport much receiver; for which'I return you all thanks.
with my uncle Toby in the volume 1 am I have received this day likewise the box
now fabricating for the laughing part of the and tea, all safe and sound; —so we shall
world; for the melancholy part of it, I have all of us be in our cups this Christmas, and
nothing but my prayers; so God help them. drink without fear or stint. —We begin to
I shall hear from you in a post or two at live extremely happy, and are all together
least after you receive this. In the mean every night,-fiddling, laughing, and sin'gtime, dear Foley, adieu, and believe no man ing, and cracking jokes. You will scarce
wishes or esteems you more than your  believe the news I tell you. There is a
L. STERNE.  company of English strollers arrived here,
who are to act comedies all the Christmas;
and are now busy in making dresses, and
preparing some of our best comedies.-Your
LETTER XXXIV.               wonder will cease, when I inform you these
TO THIE SAME.            ystrollers are your friends with the rest of
our society, to whom I proposed this scheme
Toulouse, Wednesday, Dec. 3,1762. soulagement; — and I assure you we do
DEAR FOLEY,                       well.-The next week, with a grand orchesI HAVE for this last fortnight, every post- tra, we play the Busy Body,-and the Jourday, gone to Messrs. B-   and Sons, in ex- -ney to London the week after; but I have
pectation of the pleasure of a letter from some thoughts of adapting it to our situation
you, with the remittance I desired you to and making it the Journey to Toulouse,
send me here.-When a man has no more which, with the change of half a dozen
than half a dozen guineas in his pocket, and scenes, may be easily done.-Thus, my dear
a thousand miles from home,-and in a F-, for want of something better, we have
country where he can as soon raise the recourse toourselves, and strike out the best
D —1 as a six-livre piece to go to market amusements we can from such materials.wvith, in case he has changed his last guinea, My kind love and friendship to all my true
— you will not envy' my situation. God friends; my service to the rest. H —'b
oJess you, remit me the balance due upon family have just left me, having been this
the receipt of this. —We are all at H-'s, last week with us;-they will be with me




352


LETTERS.


all the holidays.-In summer we shall visit
them, and so balance hospitalities. Adieu.
Yours most truly,
L. STERNE.
LETTER XXXVI.
TO THE SAME.
Toulouse, March 29, 1763
DEAR FOLEY,
THOUGH that's a mistake (I mean the
date of the place); for I write at Mr.
L —'s in the country, and have been
there with my people all the week.-" How
" does Tristram do?" you say in yours to him;
-faith, but so so. -The worst of human
maladies is poverty; — though that's a
second lie; for poverty of spirit is worse
than poverty of purse by ten thousand per
cent.-I inclose you a remedy for the one,
a draught of a hundred and thirty pounds,
for which I insist upon a rescription by the
very, return, or I will send you and all your
commissaries to the D —1. —I do not hear
they have tasted ofone fleshy banquet all
this lent. You will make an excellentgrille.
P —, they can make nothing of him but
bouillon.-I mean my other two friends no
ill; so shall send them a reprieve, as they
acted out of necessity,-not choice. My
kind respects to Baron d'Holbach, and all
his household. Say all that's kind for me to
my other friends. You know how much,
dear Foley, I am yours,
-L. STERNE.
I have not five Louis to vapor with in
this land of coxcombs. My wife's compliments.
LETTER XXXVII.


bled waters; at least I wish you all a reasonable man can wish for himself, which is wishing enough for you: all the rest is in the
brain. Mr. Woodhouse (whom you know)
is also here; he is a most amiable worthy
man; and I have, the pleasure of having
him much with me. In a short time he proceeds to Italy. The first week in June I decamp like a patriarch with my whole household, to pitch our tents for three months at
the foot of the Pyrenean Hills at Bangieres,
where I expect much health and much amusement from the concourse of adventurers from
all corners of the earth. Mrs. M-  sets
out, at the same time, for another part of the
Pyrenean Hills, at Courtray: from whence
to Italy. This is the general plan of operation here, except that I have some thoughts
of spending the winter at Florence, and
crossing over with my family to Leghorn
by water; and in April of returning, by
way of Paris, hore. -But this is a sketch
only; for in all things I am governed by
circumstances; so that what is fit to be
done on Monday may be very unwise on
Saturday. On all days of the week believe


me yours,
P. S.
friends.


I


XWith unfeigned truth,


L. STERNE.
All compliments to my Parisian
LETTER XXXVIII.
TO THE SAME.
Toulouse, April 29, 1763.


TO'


FHE SAME.
Toulouse. Anril 18. 1763.


DEAR FOLEY,
I THANK you for your punctuality in
sending me the rescription, and for your
box by the courier, which came safe by last
post. I was. not surprised much with your
-.ccount of Lord ***** being obliged to give
way;-and for the rest, all follows in course.
I suppose you will endeavor to fish and
e.ntr something tbr yourself in these trou

MY DEAR FOLEY.
LAST post my agent wrote me word, he
would send up fiom York a bill for fourscore
guineas, with orders to be paid into Mr.
Selwin's hands for me. This, he said, he
would expedite immediately; so'tis possible you may have had advice of it;-and'tis possible also the money may not be paid
this fortnight; therefore, as I set out for
Bagnieres in that time, be so good as to
give me credit for the money for a few posts
or so, ai d send me either a rescription for
the money, or a draught for it;-at the receipt of which, we shall decamp for ten or
twelve weeks.-You will receive twenty
pounds more on my account; whith ser




LETTERS.


353


also:-so much for that. As for pleasure,
you have it all amongst you at Paris: we
have nothing here which deserves the name.
-I shall scarce be tempted to sojourn another winter in Toulouse; for I cannot say
it suits my health as I hoped:'tis too moist,
-and I cannot keep clear of agues here;
-so that, if I stay the next winter on this
side of the water,'twill be either at Nice
or Florence;-and I shall return to England
in April. - Wherever I am, believe me,
dear Foley, that I am
Yours faithfully,
L. STERNE.
Madame and Mademoiselle present their
best compliments. Remember me to all I
regard, particularly Messrs. Panchaud, and
the rest of your household.
LETTER XXXIX.
TO THE SAME.
Toulouse, May 21, 1763.
I TOOK the liberty, three weeks ago, to desire you would be so kind as to send me
fourscore pounds, having received a letter
the same post from my agent, that he would
order the money to be paid to your correspondent in London in a fortnight.-It is
some disappointment to me that you have
taken no notice of my letter, especially as I
told you we waited for the money before
we set out for Bagnieres;-and so little
distrust had I that such a civility would be
refused me, that we have actually had all
our things packed up these eight days, in
hourly expectation of receiving a letter.Perhaps my good' friend has waited till he
heard the money was paid in London-;-but
you might have trusted to my honor, that
all the cash in your iron-box (and al] the
bankers in Europe put together) could not
have tempted me to say the thing'that is
not. —I hope, before this, you Will have received an account of the money being paid
In London. But it would have been taken
kindly, if you had wrote me word you would
transmit me the money when you had received it; but no sooner; for Mr. R, of
Montpellier, though I know him not, yet
2 U


knows enough of me to have given me
credit for a fortnight for ten times the sum
I am, dear F —, your friend
and hearty well-wisher,
L. STERNE
I saw the family of the H   yesterday,
and asked them if you was in the land of
the living.-They said, Yea; for they had
just received a letter from you.-After all,
I heartily forgive you; for you have done
me a signal service in mortifying me, and
it is this:-I am determined to grow rich
upon it.
Adieu, and God send you wealth and
happiness. All compliments to -     Before April next, I am obliged to revisit your
metropolis, in my way to England.
LETTER XL.
TO THE SAME.
Toulouse, June 9, 1763.
MY DEAR FOLEY,
I THIS moment received yours; consequently, the moment I got it, I sat down to
answer it.-So much for a logical inference.
Now, believe me, I had never wrote'you
so testy a letter, had I not both loved and
esteemed you;-and it was merely in vindication of the rights of friendship that I
wrote in a way as if I was hurt;-for neglect me in your heart, I knew you could
not, without cause; which my heart told
me I never had-nor will ever give you.I was the best friend with you that ever
I was in my life, before my letter had got a
league, and pleaded the true excuse for my
friend, "That he was oppressed with a
"multitude of business." Go on, my dear
F-, and have'but that excuse (so much
do I regard your interest) that I would be
content to suffer a real evil without future
murmuring:-but, in truth, my disappointment was partly chimerical at the bottom.
having a letter of credit for two hundred
pounds from a person I never saw, by me,
-but which, out of a nicety of temper, 1
would not make any use of.-I set out i 
two days for Bagnieres; but direct to ms;
to Brousse, who will forward all my letters.
-Dear F —, adieu. Believe me
Yours affectionately,
L. STERN g
30*




:354


LETTERS.


LETTER XLI
TO THE SAME.
Toulouse. June 12, 1763.
DEAR FOLEY,
LUCKILY, just before I was stepping into
my chaise for Bagnieres, has a strayed fifty
pound bill found its way to me; so I have
sent it to its lawful owner inclosed.-My
noodle of an agent, instead of getting Mr.
Selwin to advise you he had received the
money (which would have been enough)
has got a bill for it, and sent-it rambling to
the farthest part of France after me: and,
if it had not caught me just now, it might
have followed me into Spain; for I shall
cross the Pyreneans, and spend a week in
that kingdom, which is enough for a fertile
brain to write a volume upon.-When I
write the history of my travels,-Memorandum! I am not to forget how honest a
man I have for a banker at Paris.-But,
my dear friend, when you say you dare
trust me for what little occasions I may
have, you have as much faith as honesty,and more of both than of good policy.-I
thank you however ten thousand times;
and, except such liberty as I have lately
taken with you,-and that too at a pinch,I say, beyond that I will not trespass upon
your good-nature or friendliness to serve
me.-God bless you, dear F —.
I am yours whilst
L. STERNE.
LETTER XLII.
TO THE SAME.
Montpellier, Oct. 5, 1763.
DEAR FOLEY,
I AM ashamed I have not taken an opportunity of thanking you before now, for your
friendly act of civility, in ordering Brousse,
vour correspondent at Toulouse, in case I
should have occasion, to pay me fifteen
nundred livres;-which, as I knew the offer
came from your heart, I made no difficulty
of accepting.-In my way through Toulouse to Marseilles, where we have been,but neither liking the place nor Aix (par

ticularly the latter, it being a parliament
town, of which Toulouse has given me a'surfeit) we have returned here, where we
shall reside the winter. -My wife and
daughter purpose to stay a year at least behind me, and, when winter is over, to return to Toulouse, or go to Montauban,
where they will stay till they return, or I
fetch them.-For myself, I shall set out in
February for England, where my heart has
been fled these six mrnths:-but I shall
stay a fortnight with my friends at Paris;
though I verily believe, if it was not for
the pleasure of seeing and chattering with
you, I should pass on directly to Brussels,
and so on to Rotterdam, for the sake of
seeing Holland, and embark from thence to
London. - But I must stay a little with
those I love and have so many reasons to
regard: —you cannot place too much of
this to your own score.-I have had an offer
of going to Italy a fortnight ago; —but I
must like my subject as-well as the terms;
neither of which were to my mind.-Pray
what English have you at.Paris?-where
is my young friend Mr. F —   1 We hear
of three or four English families coming to
us here.-If I can be serviceable to any
you would serve, you have but to write.Mr. H —      has sent my friend W —'s
picture.-You have seen the original, or I
would have sent it you.-I believe I shall
beg leave to get a copy of my own from
yours, when I come in propria persona;
-till when, God bless you, my dear friend,
and believe me
Most faithfully yours,
L. STERNE.
LETTER XLIII.
TO THE SAME.
Montpellier, Jan. 5,1764.
MY DEAR FRIEND,
You see I cannot pass over the fifth of
the month without thinking of you, and
writing to you.-The last is a periodical
habit;-the first is from my heart; and I
do it oftener than I remember:-however,
from both motives together, I maintain 1
have a right to the pleasure of a single




LETTERS.


355


line,-be it only to tell me how your watch
goes.- You know how much happier it
would make me to know that all things belonging to you went on well.-You are going to have them all to yourself, I hear; and
that Mr. S-   is true to his first intention
of leaving business.-I hope this will enable
you to accomplish yours in a shorter time,
that you may get to your long-wished-for
retreat of tranquillity and silence.-When
you have got to your fire-side, and into
your arm-chair, (and, by the bye, have another to spare for a friend) and are so much
a sovereign as to sit in your furred cap, if
you like it, though I should not (for a man's
ideas are at least the cleaner for being
dressed decently) why then it will be a
miracle if I do not glide in like a ghost
upon you, -and, in a very unghostlike
fashion, help you off with a bottle of your
best wine.
January 15.-It does not happen every
day that a letter begun in the most perfect
health, should be concluded in the greatest
weakness.-I wish the vulgar, high and low,
do not say it was a judgment upon me, for
taking all this liberty with ghosts.-Be it
as it may, I took a ride, when the first part
of this was wrote, towards Perenas, - and
returned home in a shivering fit, though I
ought to have been in a fever, for I had
tired my beast; and he was as unmovable
as Don Quixote's wooden horse; and my
arm was half dislocated in whipping him.
-This, quoth I, is inhuman.-No, says a
peasant on foot behind me, I'll drive him
home; so he laid on his posteriors; but'twas needless: as his face was turn'd towards Montpellier, he began to trot. But
to return.-This fever has confined me ten
days in my bed; — I have suffered in this
scuffle with death terribly,;-but unless the
spirit of prophecy deceive me,-I shall not
die but live.-In the mean time, dear F., let
us live as merrily, but as innocently as we
can.-It has ever been as good, if not better,
than a bishopric to me;-and I desire no
other.-Adieu, my dear friend, and believe
me yours,
L. STERNE.
Please to give the inclosed to Mr. T., and
tell him I thank him cordially from my heart
for his great good-will.


LETTER XLIV.
TO THE SAME
Montpellier, Jan. 20, 1764
MY DEAR FRIEND,
HEARING by Lord Rochford (who in passing through here in his way to Madrid has
given me a call) that my worthy friend Mr.
Fox was now at Paris,-I have inclosed a
letter to him, which you will present in
course, or direct to him. I suppose you are
full of English;-but in short, we are here
as if in another world, where,' unless some
strayed soul arrives, we know nothing of
what is going on in yours.-Lord G-r,
I suppose, is gone from Paris, or I had wrote
also to him. I know you are as busy as a
bee, and have few moments to yourself;
-nevertheless bestow one of them upon
an old fiiend, and write me a line;-and if
Mr. F. is too idle, and has aught to say to
me, pray write a second line for him.-We
had a letter from Miss P-   this week,
who it seems has decamped for ever from
Paris.-All is for the best;-which is my
general reflection upon many things in this
world. Well, I shall shortly come and
shake yout by the hand in St. Sauveur, if
still you are there. My wife returns to
Toulouse, and purposes to spend the summer
at Bagnieres;-I, on the contrary, go and
visit my wife, the church, in Yorkshire.We all live the longer,-at least the happier, for having things our own way.-This
is my conjugal maxim:-I own'tis not the
best of maxims;- but I maintain'tis not
the worst. Adieu, dear F., and believe me
Yours with truth,
L. STERNE
LETTER XLV.
TO MRS. F.
Montpellier, Feb. 1, 1764
I AM preparing, my dear Mrs. F., to leave
France, for I am heartily tired of it.-That
insipidity there is in French characters has
disgusted your friend Yorick.-I have been
dangerously ill, and cannot think that the
sharp air of Montpellier has been of servico




356


LETTERS.


to me; and so my physicians told me when but I must tell you both (that unless your
they had me under their hands for above a health had not been a plea made use of) I
month:-" If you stay any longer here, Sir, should have wished you both to return with
" it will be fatal to you."-And why, good me,-I have sent you the Spectators, and
people, were you not kind enough to tell other books, particularly Metastasio; but I
me this sooner'-After having discharged beg my girl to read the former, and only
them, I told Mrs. Sterne that I should set make the latter her amusement.-I hope
out for England very soon;-but as she you have not forgot my last request, to
chooses to remain in France for two or make no friendships with the French wothree years, I have no objection, exceptthat men;-not that I think ill of them all; but
I wish my girl in England.-The States of sometimes women of the best principles are
Languedoc are met;-'tis a fine raree-show, the most insinuating.;-nay, I am so jealwith the usual accompaniments of fiddles, ous of you, that I should be miserable to see
bears, and puppet-shows. I believe I shall you had the least grain of coquetry in your
step into my post-chaise with more alacrity composition.-You have enough to do;to fly from these sights, than a Frenchman for I have also sent you a guitar;-and as
would to fly to them;;-and, except a tear you have no genius for drawing (though you
at parting with my little slut, I shall be in never could be made to believe it), pray
high spirits; and every step I take that waste not your time about it.-Remember
brings me nearer England, will, I think, to write to me as to a friend: —in short,
help to set this poor frame to rights. Now whatever comes into your little head; and
pray write to me, directed to Mr. F. at Paris, then it will be natural. If your mother's
and tell me what I am to bring you over. rheumatism continues, and she chooses to
How do I long to greet all my friends! few go to Bagnieres, tell her not to be stopped
do I value more than yourself.-My wife for want of'money, for my purse shall be
chooses to go, to Montauban, rather than as open as my heart. I have preached at
stay here; in which: I am truly passive.L the Ambassador's chapel. - Hezekiah.*If this should not find you at Bath, I hope (An odd subject, your mother will say.)
it will be forwarded to you, as I wish to There was a concourse of all nations, and
fulfil your commissions;-'and so adieu.-  religions too.-I shall leave Paris in a few
Accept every warm wish for your health, days. I am lodged in the same hotel with
and believe me ever yours,             Mr. T-: they are good and generous
L. STERNE. souls.-Tell your mother that I hope she
P. S. My physicians have almost poisoned will write to me; and that when she does
me with what they call bouillons refraichis- so, I may also receive a letter from  my
sants:-'tis a cock flayed alive, and boiled Lydia.
with poppy-seeds, then pounded in a mortar,  Kiss your mother from me, and believe
afterwards'passed through a sieve.-There me
is to be one craw-fish in it; and I was            Your affectionate
gravely told it must be a male one,-a fe-                           STERNF,
male would do me more hurt than good!
LETTER XLVII.
LETTER XLVI.
TO MR. FOLEY.
TO MISS STERNE.
York, August 6, 1764
Paris, May 15,1764.  MY DEAR FOLEY,
MY DEAR LYDIA,                       THERE is a young lady with whom I
By this time I suppose your mother and have sent a letter to you, who will arrive
self are fixed at Montauban, and I therefore at Paris, in her way to Italy;-her name is
direct to your banker, to be delivered to you. Miss Tuting: a lady known and loved by
— I acquiesced in your staying in France:
lilewise it was your mother's wish:-            * See Sermon XV I.




LETTERS.


357


the whole kingdom:-if you can be of any
aid to her in your advice, &c. as to her
journey, &c. your good-nature and politeness I am sure need no spur from me to do
it. I was sorry we were like the two buckets of a well, whilst in London, for we were
never able to be both resident together the
month I continued in and about the environs. If I get a cough this winter which
holds me three days, you will certainly see
me at Paris the week following; for now I
abandon every thing in this world to health
and to my friends;-for the last sermon
that I shall ever preach, was preached at
Paris;-so I am altogether an idle man, or
rather a free one, which is better. I sent,
last post, twenty pounds to Mrs. Sterne;
which makes a hundred pounds remitted
since I got here. You must pay yourself
what I owe you out of it,-and place the rest
to account. Betwixt this and Lady-day next,
Mrs. Sterne will draw, from time to time,
upon you to about the amount of a hundred
Louis,-but not more,-(I think) I having
left her a hundred in her pocket. - But you
shall always have money beforehand of
mine;-and she purposes to spend no farther
than five thousand livres in the year;-but
twenty pounds this way or that, makes no
difference between us.-Give my kindest
compliments to Mr. P —. I have a thousand things to say to you; and would go
half-way to Paris to tell them you in your
ear. The Messrs. T —, H —, &c. and
many more of your friends with whom I
now am, send their services.-Mine to all
friends.-Yours, dear F., most truly,
L. STERNE.


do worse things, the English of all which
is this,-That I am going to leave a few
poor sheep here in the wilderness for fourteen days;-and, from pride and naughtiness of heart, to go and see what is doing
at Scarborough,-stedfastly meaning afterwards to lead a new life and strengthen my
faith.-Now some folk say there is much
company there; and some say not; and I
believe there is neither the one nor the
other -but will be both, if the world will
have but a month's patience or so.-No, my
dear H-, I did not delay sending your
letter directly to the post.-As there are
critical times, or rather turns and revolutions in *** humors, I knew not what the
delay of an hour might hazard.-I will answer for him he has seventy times seven
forgiven you, —and as often wish'd you at
the D —. After many oscillations, the
pendulum will rest as firm as ever.
I send all compliments to Sir C. D- and
G-s. I love them from my soul.-If G-t
is with you, him also.-I go on, not rapidly,
but well enough, with my uncle Toby's
amours. There is no sitting and cudgelling one's brains whilst the sun shines
bright;-'twill be all over in six or seven
weeks; and there are dismal months enow
after, to endure suffocation by a brimstone
fireside.-If you can get to Scarborough,
do.-A man who makes six tons of alum a
week, may do any thing.- Lord Granby is
to be there.-What a temptation!
Yours, affectionately,
L. STERNE.
LETTER'XLIX.


TO THE SAME.


LETTER XLVIII.
TO J    H — S-, ESQ.




Coxwould, Thursday, Sept. 1764,6


September 4. 1764.
Now, my dear, dear Anthony, I do not
think a week or ten days playing the good
fellow (at this very time) at Scarborough so
abominable a thing; but if a man could get
there cleverly, and every soul in his house
in the mind to try what could be done in
furtherance thereof, I have no one to consult in this affair:-therefore, as a man may


MY DEAR COUSIN,
I AM but this, moment returned from
Scarborough, where I have been drinking
the waters ever since the races; and have
received marvellous strength, had I not debilitated it as fast as I got it, by playing the
good fellow with Lord Granby and Co. too
much. I rejoice you have been encamp'd
at Harrowgate; from which, by now, I suppose you are decamp'd;-otherwise, as idlf
a beast as I have been, I would have sacri.




358


LETTERS.


ficed a few days to the God of Laughter
with you and your jolly set. —I have done
nothing good that I know of, since I left
you, except paying off your guinea and a
half to K —, in my way through York
hither.-I must try now and do better. Go
on and prosper for a month.
Your affectionate,
L. STERNE.
LETTER L.
TO MR. FOLEY, AT PARIS.
York, Sept. 29, 1764.
MY DEAR FRIEND,
I HAVING just had the honor of a letter
from Miss Tuting, full of the acknowledgments of your attention and kind services
to her,-I will not believe these arose from
the D. of A's letters, nor mine.
Surely, she needed no recommendation;the truest and most honest compliment I
can pay you, is to say they came from your
own good heart, only you was introduced to
the object;-for the rest follow'd in course.
-However, let me cast in my mite of thanks
to the treasury which belongs to goodnatured actions. I have been with Lord
G-y these three weeks at Scarborough;the pleasures of which I found somewhat
more exalted than those of Bagnieres last
year.-I am now returned to my Philosophical Hut to finish Tristram, which I calculate will be ready for the world about Christmas; at which time I decamp from hence,
and fix my head-quarters at London for the
winter,-unless my cough pushes me forwards to your metropolis,-or that I can
persuade some gros my Lord to take a trip
to you. —I'll try if I can make him relish the
joys ofthe Thuilleries, Opera Comique, fc.
I had this week a letter from Mrs. Sterne,
from Montauban; in which she tells me she
has occasion for fifty pounds immediately.Will you send an order to your correspondent at Montauban to pay her so much cash?
-and I will, in three weeks, send as much
to Becket. -But as her purse is low, for
God's sake write directly.- Now you must
do something equally essential,-to rectify
a mistake in the mind of your correspondent
there, who it seems gave her a hint, not


long ago, that she was separated from me
for life. Now as this is not true i~ the first
place, and may give a disadvantageous impression of her to those she lives amongst,
-'twould be unmerciful to let her, or my
daughter. suffer by it;-so do be so good as
to undeceive him;-for, in a year or two
she proposes (and indeed I expect it with
impatience from her) to rejoin me;-and
tell them I have all the confidence in the
world she will not spend more than I can
afford; ard I only mentioned two hundred
guineas a year, -because'twas right to
name some certain sum; for which I begged
you to give her credit.-I write'to you of
all my most intimate concerns, as to a
brother; so excuse me, dear Foley. God
bless you!-Believe me
Yours affectionately,
L. STERNE.
Compliments to Mr. Panchaud, d'Holbach, &c.
LETTER LI.
TO THE SAME.
York, November 11, 1774
MY DEAR FRIEND,
I SENT, ten days ago, a bank-bill of thirty
pounds to Mr. Becket; and, this post, one
of sixty.-When I get to London, which
will be in five weeks, you will receive what
shall always keep you in bank for Mrs.
Sterne; in the mean time I have desired
Becket to send you fourscore pounds; and
if my wife, before I get to London, should
have occasion for fifty Louis, let her not wait
a minute; and if I have not paid it, a week
or a fortnight, I know, will break no squares
with a good and worthy friend. I will contrive
to send you these two new volumes of Tristram, as soon as ever I get them from the
press.-.You will read as odd a tour through
France as ever was projected or executed
by traveller, or travel-writer, since the
world began. —'Tis a laughing, good-tempered satire against travelling (as puppies
travel); Panchaud will enjoy it.-I am quite
civil to your Parisians,-et pour cause, you
know:-'tis likely I may see them in spring.
-Is it possible for you to get me over a
copy of my picture any how 1 If so, I would




LETTERS.


359


write to Mademoiselle N   - to make as
good a copy from it as she possibly could,with a view to do her service here;-and I
would remit her the price.-I really believe
it would be the parent of a dozen portraits to
her, if she executes it with the spirit of the
original in your hands,-for it will be seen
by many;-and as my phiz is as remarkable
as myself, if she preserves the true character of both, it will do her honor and service
too.-Write me a line about this, and tell
me you are well and happy.-Will you present, my kind respects to the worthy Baron?
-I shall send him one of the best impressions of my picture from Mr. Reynolds's;another to Monsieur PMy love to Mr. S —n and P —d.
I am most truly yours,
L. STERNE.
LETTER LII.
TO — H-      S-, ESQ.
Nov. 13, 1764.
DEAR DEAR COUSIN,'TIS a church militant week with me,
full of marches and counter-marches,-and
treaties about Stillington common, which
we are going to inclose,-otherwise I would
have obeyed your summons; —and yet I
could not well have done it this week neither, having received a letter from C-,
who has been very ill; and is coming down
to stay a week or ten days with me.-Now
I know he is ambitious of being better acquainted with you; and longs from his soul
for a sight of you in your own castle.-I cannot do otherwise than bring him with me;
-nor can I gallop away and leave him in
an empty house to pay a visit to from London, as he comes half express to see me.I thank you for the care of my northern
vintage.-I fear, after all, I must give it a
fermentation on the other side of the Alps,
which is better than being on the lees with
it; but nous verrons:-yet I fear- as it has
got such hold of my brain, and comes upon
it like an armed man at nights,-I must
give way, for quietness sake, or be hagridden with the conceit of it all my life long.
-I have been Miss-ridden this last week
by a couple of romping girls (bien mises et


comme il faut) who might as well have
been in the house with me (though perhaps
not, my retreat here is too quiet for them)
but they have taken up all my time, and have
given my judgment and fancy more airings
than they wanted.-These things accord not
well with sermon-making:-but'tis my vile
errantry, as Sancho says, and that is all
that can be made of it.-I trust all goes
swimmingly on with your alum; that the
works amuse you, and call you twice out
(at least) a day.-I shall see them, I trust,
in ten days, or thereabouts.-If it was any
way possible, I would set out this moment,
though I have no cavalry (except a she-ass.)
Give all friendly respects to Mrs. C. and to
Col. H-s and the garrison, both of Guisbro
and Skelton. I am, dear Anthony,
Affectionately yours,
L. STERNE.
LETTER LIII.
TO MR. FOLEY, AT PARIS.
York, Nov. 16, 1764.
MY DEAR FRIEND,
THREE posts before I had the favor of
yours (which is come to hand this moment)
I had wrote to set Mrs. Sterne right in hei
mistake,-that you had any money of mine
in your hands;-being very sensible that
the hundred pounds I had sent you, through
Becket's hands, was but about what would
balance with you. The reason of her error
was owing to my writing her word I would
send you a bill, in a post or two, for fifty
pounds; which, my finances falling short
just then, I deferred; so that I had paid nothing to any one,-but was, however, come
to York this day; and I have sent you a
draught for a hundred pounds. In honest
truth, a fortnight ago I had not the cash;but I am as honest as the king (as Sancho
Panqa says,) only not so rich.
Therefore, if Mrs. Sterne should want
thirty Louis more, let her have them; and
I will balance all (which will not be much)
with honor at Christmas, when I shall be
in London, having now just finished my
two volumes of Tristram. -I have some
thoughts of going to Italy this year; at
least I shall not defer it above another,-l




360


LETTERS.


nave been with Lord Granby, and with
Lord Shelburne; but am now sat down till
December in my sweet retirement. I wish
you was sat down as happily, and as free
of all worldly cares.-In a few years, my
dear —F., I hope to see you a real country
gentleman, though not altogether:exiled
from your friends in London: there I shall
spend every winter of my life, in the same
lap of contentment where I enjoy myself
now, and wherever I go,-we must bring
three parts in four of the treat along with
us. In short, we must be happy within,
and then few things without us make
much difference. This is my Shandean
philosophy.-You will read a comic account of my journey from Calais, through
Paris, to the Garonne, in these volumes:
my friends tell me they are done with spirit:-it must speak for itself. Give my kind
respects to Mr. Selwin and my friend
Panchaud.-When you see Baron d'l-olbach, present him my respects, and believe
me, dear F.,
Yours cordially,
L. STERNE.


me.-This was but justice to you, as'
walked in as a Wit; but with regard to
myself, I balanced the account thus:-I am
sometimes in my friend --'s house; but
he is always in Tristram Shandy's; where
my friends say he will continue (and, I
hope, the prophecy is true for my own immortality) even when he himself is no more.
I have had a lucrative winter's campaign
here.-Shandy sells well.-I am taxing the
public with two more volumes of Sermons,
which will more than double the gains of
Shandy.-It goes into the world with a
prancing list de toute la noblesse; which
will bring me in three hundred pounds, exclusive of the sale of the copy; —so that,
with all the contempt of money which ma
facon de penser has ever impressed on me,
I shall be rich in spite of myself; but I
scorn, you must know, in the high ton I
take at present, to pocket all this trash.-I
set out to lay a portion of it out in the service of the world, in a tour round Italy;
where I shall spring game, or the deuce is
in the dice!-In the beginning of September I quit England, that I may avail myself
of the time of vintage, when all Nature is
joyous; and so saunter, philosophically, for
a year or so, on the other side the Alps.-1
hope your pilgrimages have brought Mrs.
Garrick and yourself back d la fleur de
jeunesse. -May you both long feel the
sweets of it, and your friends with you!Do, dear friend, make my kindest wishes
and compliments acceptable.to the best and
wisest of the daughters of Eve!-You
shall ever believe, and ever find me affectionately yours,
L. STERNE.
LETTER LV.
TO THE SAME.
Bath, April 6, 1775.
I SCALP you! my dear Garrick! my dear
friend! —Foul befall the man who hurts a
hair of your head!-and so full was I of
that very sentiment, that my letter had not
been put into the post-office ten minutes,
before my heart smote me; and I sent to
recall it, —but failed.-You are sadly to
blame, Shandy, for this, quoth I, leaning


LETTER LIV.
TO DAVID GARRICK, ESQ.
London, March 16, 1765.
DEAR GARRICK,
I THREATENED you with a letter in one I
wrote a few-weeks ago to Foley; but (to
my shame be it spoken) I lead such a life
of dissipation, I have never had a moment
to myself which has not been broke in
upon, by one engagement or impertinence
or another; and as plots thicken towards
the latter end of a piece, I find, unless I
take pen and ink just now, I shall not be
aole to do it till either I am got into the
country, or you'to the city. You are teased
and tormented too much by your correspondents, to return to us; and with accounts
how much your friends, and how much
your theatre, wants you;-so that I will not
magnify either our loss or yours, but hope
cordially to see you soon.-Since I wrote.ast, I have frequently stepped into your
nouse; that is as frequently as I could take
tJie whole party, where I dined, along with




LETTERS.


361


with my head on my hand as I recriminated
upon my false delicacy in the affair:-Garrick's nerves (if he has any left) are as fine
and as delicately spun as thy own!-his
sentiments as honest and friendly!-Thou
knowest, Shandy, that he loves thee,-why
wilt thou hazard him a moment's pain?
Puppy, fool, coxcomb, jack-ass, &c. &c.and so I balanced the account to your favor,
before I received it drawn up in your way.
-I say your way, for it is rot stated so
much to your honor and credit as I had
passed the account before;-for it was a
most lamented truth, that I never received
one of the letters your friendship meant
me, except whilst in Paris.-Oh! how I congratulate you for the anxiety the world has,
and continues to be under, for your return!
-Return, return to the few who love you,
and the thousands who admire you i-The
moment you set your foot upon your stage,
-mark, I tell it.you,-by some magic irresisted power, every fibre about your heart
will vibrate afresh, and as strong and as
feelingly as ever;-Nature, with Glory at
her back, will light up the torch within
you; and there is enough of it left to heat
and enlighten the world these many, many
years!
Heaven be praised! (I utter it from my
soul) that your Lady, and my Minerva, is
in a condition to walk to Windsor!-full
rapturously will I lead the graceful pilgrim
to the temple; where I will sacrifice with
the purest incense to her;-but you may
worship with me or not,-'twill make no
difference either in the truth or warmth
of my devotion; —still (after: all I have
seen) I still maintain her peerless!
Powell, good Heaven!-give me some
one with less smoke and more fire!-There
are who, like the Pharisees, still think they
shall be heard for much speaking. Come,
come away, my dear Garrick, and teach us
another lesson.
Adie'u!-I love you dearly, and your
Lady better;-not hobby-horsically, -but
most sentimentally and affectionately; —for
I am yours (that is, if you never say another word about   ) with all the sentiments of love and friendship you deserve
from me,
L. STERNE.
2V


LETTER LVI.
TO MR. FOLEY.
Bath, April 15, 1765.
MY DEAR FOLEY,
MY wife tells me she has drawn for one
hundred pounds; - and'tis fit that you
should be paid it that minute:-t.he money
is now in Becket's hands. Send me, my
dear Foley, my account, that I may discharge the balance to this time, and know
what to leave hi your hands.-I have made
a good campaign of it this year in the field
of the literati;-my two volumes of Tristram, and two of Sermons, which I shall
print very soon, will bring me a considerable sum. Almost all the nobility in England honor me with their names; and'tis
thought it will be the largest and most
splendid list which ever pranced before a
book since subscriptions came into fashion.
— Pray present my most sincere compliments to Lady H-; whose name I hope
to insert with many others. As so many
men of genius favor me with their names
also, I will quarrel with Mr. Hume, and
call him Deist, and what not, unless I have
his name too.-My love to Lord WYour name, Foley, I have put in as a free.
will offering of my labors. Your list of subscribers you will send:-''tis but a crown for
sixteen sermons.-Dog-cheap! but I am in
quest of honor, not money.-Adieu, adieu!
Believe me, dear Foley,,
Yours truly,
L. STERNE.
LETTER LVII.
TO MR. W.
Coxwould, May 23, 1765.
AT this moment I am sitting in my summer-house with my head and heart full, not
of my uncle Toby's amours with the Widow
Wadman, but my sermons;. and your letter
has drawn me out of a pensive mood:-the
spirit of it pleaseth me;-but, in this solitude, what can I tell or write to you but
about myself?-1 am glad that you are in
love;-'twill cure the spleen, at least,
which has a bad effect on both man and
woman. —I myself must ever have some
31




362


LETTERS.


Dulcinea in my head; it harmonizes the
soul;-and in those cases 1 first endeavor
to make the lady believe so; or rather, I
begin first to make myself believe that I
am in love:- but I carry on my affairs
quite in the French way, sentimentally, —
L'amour (say they) n'est rien sans sentiment.-Now, notwithstanding they make
such-a pother about the word, they have
no precise idea annex'd to it: —and so much
for that same subject called Love.-I must
tell you how I have just treated a French
gentleman of fortune in France, who took
a liking to my daughter: - Without any
ceremony (having got my direction from
my wife's banker) he wrote me word that
he was in love with my daughter; and desired to know what fortune I would give
her at present, and how much at my death:
-by the bye, I think there was very little
sentiment on his side. -My answer was,
"Sir, I shall give her ten thousand pounds
the day of marriage. My calculation is as
follows:-She is not eighteen, you are sixtytwo;-there goes five thousand pounds:tnen, Sir, you at least think her not ugly; she
has many accomplishments,-speaks Italian,
French, plays upon the guitar; and as I fear
you play upon no instrument whatever, I
think you will be happy to take her at my
terms; for here finishes the account of the
ten thousand pounds."-I do not suppose
nut he will take this as I mean; that is, a
flat refisal.-I have had a parsonage-house
burnt down by the carelessness of my
curate's wife.-As soon as I can, I must rebuild it, I trow;-but I lack the means at
present; yet I am never happier than when
I have not a shilling in my pocket: for
when I have, I can never call it my own.Adieu, my dear friend:-'may you enjoy
better health than me, though not better
spirits, for that is impossible.
Yours sincerely,
L. STERNE.
My compliments to the Colonel.
LETTER LVIII.
TO MR. FOLEY, AT PARIS.
York, July 13, 1775.
MY DEAR SIR,
I WROTE some time in spring, to beg you
would favor me with my account. I believe




you was set out from Paris, and that M.
Garrick brought the letter with him; which,
possibly, he gave you. In the hurry of your
business you might forget the contents of
it; and in the hurry of mine in town (though
I called once) I could not get to see you. I
decamp for Italy in September; and shall
see your face at Paris, you may be sure:
but I shall see it with more pleasure when
I am out of debt;-which is your own fault,
for Becket has had money left in his hands
for that purpose.-Do send Mrs. Sterne her
two last volumes of Tristram; they arrived
with yours in spring, and she complains she
has not got them.-My best services to Mr.
Panchaud.-I am busy composing two volumes of Sermons; they will be printed in
September, though I fear not time enough
to bring them  with me. Your name is
amongst the list of a few of my honorary
subscribers, who subscribe for love.-If you
see Baron d'Holbach and Diderot, present
my respects to them.-If the Baron wants
any English books, he will let me know,
and I will bring them with me.-Adieu.
I am truly yours,
L. STERNE.
LETTER LIX.
TO THE SAME.
London, October 7, 1765.
DEAR SIR,
IT is a terrible thing to be in Paris without a periwig on a man's head! In seven
days from the date of this, I should be in
that case, unless you tell your neighbor,
Madame Requiere, to get her bon mari de
me faire un peruque d bourse, au mieux —
c'est-d-dire-une la plus extraordinairela plus jolie-la plus gentille-et la plusMais qu'importe? j'ai I'honneur d'etre
grand critique-et bien difficile encore dans
les affaires de peruques;-and, in one
word, that he gets it done in five days after
notice.I beg pardon for this liberty, my dear
friend, and for the trouble of forwarding
this by the very next post. If my friend
Mr. F. is in Paris, my kind love to him
and respects to all others.-In sad haste.Yours, truly,
L SIERNE.




LETTERS.


363

I have paid into Mr. Becket's hands six
lundred pounds; which you may draw upon
at sight; according as either Mrs. Sterne or
myself make it expedient.
LETTER LX.
TO MR. PANCHAUD, AT PARIS






houses already.-To-morrow I am to be
presented to the King; and when that
ceremony is over, I shall have my hands
full of engagements.-No English here, but
Sir James Macdonald, who meets with
much respect, and Mr. Ogilby.-We are
all together, and shall depart in peace together.- My kind services to all. Pray
forward the inclosed.
Yours, most truly,
L. STERNE,
LETTER LXII.
TO TIlE SAME.


Beau Point Voisin, Nov. 7, 1765.


DEAR SIR,
I FORGOT to desire you to forward whatever letters came to your hand, to your
banker at Rome, to wait for me against I
get there, as it is uncertain how long I may
stay at Turin, &c. &c.: at present, I am
held a prisoner ill this town by the sudden
swelling of two pitiful rivulets, from the
snows melting on the Alps; so that we
cannot either advance to them, nor retire
back again to Lyons:-for how long the
gentlemen, who are my fellow-travellers,
and myself, shall languish in this state of
vexatious captivity, Heaven and Earth
surely know; for it rains as if they were
coming together to settle the matter;-I
had an agreeable journey to Lyons; and a
joyous time there,-dining and supping
every day at the Commandant's. - Lord
F. W. I left there, and about a dozen English.-If you see Lord Ossory, Lord William Gordon, and my friend Mr. Crawford,
remember me to them. If Wilkes is at
Paris yet, I send him all kind wishes.Present my compliments, as well as thanks,
to my good friend Miss P-; and believe
me, dear Sir, with all truth, yours,
L. STERNE.
LETTER LXI.
TO THE SAME.
Turin, Nov. 28, 1765.








Turin, Nov. 28, 17(5.


DEAR SIR,


I AM just leaving this place with Sir
James Macdonald for Milan, &c. -We
have spent a joyous fortnight here, and met
with all kinds of honors; and with regret
do we both bid adieu:-but health on my
side,-and good sense on his,-say'tis better to be at Rome;-you say, at Paris;but you put variety out of the question.-]
entreat you to forward the inclosed to Mrs.
Sterne. - My compliments to all friends;
more particularly to those I most value (that
includes Mr. F., if he is in Paris.)
I am yours, most truly,
L. STERNE.
LETTER LXIII.
TO THE SAME.
Florence, Dec. 18, 176t.
DEAR SIR,
I HAVE been a month passing the plains
of Lombardy, stopping in my way at Milan, Parma, Placenza, and Bologna,-with
weather as delicious as a kindly April in
England;-and have been three days in
crossing a part of the Apennines, covered
with thick snow. — Sad transition! - ]
stay here three days to dine with our
Plenipo Lords T-   d and C —   r; and
in five days shall tread the Vatican, and
be introduced to all the Saints in the
Pantheon.-I stay but fourteen days to pay
these civilities, and then decamp for Na



DEAR SIR,
AFTER many difficulties I have got here
safe and sound,-though eight days in passing the mountains of Savoy.-I am stopped,
here for ten days, by the whole country
betwixt here and Milan being laid under
water by continual rains;;-but I am very
haouy, and have found my way into a dozen






364                              LETTERS.
ples. —Pray send the inclosed to my wife, which I shall give you when we meet, as
and Becket's letter to London.         proofs of affection from
Yours, truly,                        Your fond father,
L. STERNE.                             L. STERNE
LETTER LXIV.                           LETTER LXV.
TO MISS STERNE.                   TO J     H-    S —-, ESQ.
Naples, February 3, 1766.              Naples, February 5,1767.
MY DEAR GIRL,                          M[Y DEAR H.,
YOUR letter, my Lydia, has made me'Tis an age since I have heard from you;
both laugh and cry. Sorry am I that you — but as I read the London Chronicle, and
are both so afflicted with the ague; and by find no tidings of your death, or that you
all means I wish you both to fly from Tours; are even at the point of it, I take it as I wish
because, I remember, it is situated between it, that you have got over thusn much of the
two rivers, la Loire and le Cher, which winter, free from the damps both of climate
must occasion fogs, and damp unwholesome and spirits: —and here I am, as happy as a king
weather; therefore, for the same reason, go after all, growing fat, sleek, and well liking;
not to Bourges en Bresse;'tis as vile a not improving in stature, but in breadth.place for agues.-I find myself infinitely We have a jolly carnival of it; nothing but
better than' I was, and hope to have added operas, punchinelloes, festinoes, and masat least ten years to my life, by this journey querades. We (that is, nous autres) are
to Italy; the climate is heavenly, and I find all dressing out for one this night at the
new principles of health in me, which I Princess Francavivalla's, which is to be suhave been long a stranger to; but trust me, perb. The English dine with her (exclumy Lydia, I will find you out, wherever sively): and so much for small chat,-exyou are, in May. Therefore, I beg you to cept that I saw a little comedy last week,
direct to me at Belloni's at Rome, that I with more expression and spirit, and true
may have some idea where you will be' character, than I shall see one hastily again.
then.-The account you give me of Mrs. -I stay here till the Holy Week, which I
C-    is truly amiable; I shall ever honor shall pass at Rome, where I occupy myself
her.-Mr. C. is a diverting companion:-  a month:-my plan was to have gone from
what he said of your little French admirer, thence for a fortnight to Florence, and then
was truly droll. The Marquis de        by Leghorn to Marseilles directly home;
is an impostor, and not worthy of your ac- but am diverted from this by the repeated
quaintance; he only pretended to know me, proposals of accompanying a gentleman who
to get introduced to your mother. — I de- is returning by Venice, Vienna, Saxony,
sire you will get your mother to write to Berlin, and so by the Spa, and thence
Mr. C., that I may discharge every debt; through Holland to England: -'tis with
and then, my Lydia, if I live, the produce Mr. E. I have known him these three
of my pen shall be yours: if Fate reserves years, and have been with him ever since
me not that, the humane and good (part for I reached Rome: and as I know him to be
thy rather's sake, part for thy own) will a good-hearted young gentleman, I have no
never abandon thee!-If your mother's doubt of making it answer both his views
healtk will permit her to return with me and mine; at least I am persuaded we shall
to England, your summers I will render as return home together (as we set out) with
agreeable as I can at Coxwould; your win- friendship and good-will.-Write your next
ters at York.-You know my publications letter to me at Rome, and do me the following
call me to London.-If Mr. and Mrs. C-  favor, if it lies in your way, which I think
are still at Tours, thank them from me for it does, to get me a letter of recommendation
tneir cordiality to my wife and daughter. to our Ambassador (Lord Stormont) at Vinave purchased you some little trifles, enna. I have not the honor to be known to




LETTERS.


365


his Lordship; but Lords P —, or H-,
or twenty you better know, would write a
certificate for me; importing, that I am not
fallen out of the clouds. If this will cost my
cousin little trouble, do inclose it in your
next letter to me at Belloni's.-You have
left Skelton I trow a month, and I fear have
had a most sharp winter, if one may judge
of it from the severity of the weather here,
and all over Italy, which exceeded any thing
known, till within these three weeks, that
the sun has been as hot as we could bear it.
Give my kind services to my friends; especially to the household of faith: —my dear
Garland,-to Gilbert,-to the worthy Colonel,-to Cardinal S      -,-to my fellowlaborer Pantagruel.-Dear cousin Anthony,
receive my kindest love and wishes.
Yours affectionately,
L. STERNE.
P. S. Upon second thoughts, direct your
next to me at Mr. W.'s, banker at Venice.
LETTER LXVI.
TO MR. FOLEY, AT PARIS.
Naples, February 8, 1766.
DEAR SIR,
I DESIRE Mrs. Sterne may have what cash
she wants,-if she has not received it before
now: she sends me word she has been in
want of cash these three weeks: be so kind
as to prevent this uneasiness to her; which
is doubly so to me. I have made very little
use of your letters of credit, having, since I
left Paris, taken up no more money than about
fifty Louis at Turin, as much at Rome, and
a few ducats here; and as I now travel from
hence to Rome, Venice, through Vienna to
Berlin, &c. with a gentleman of fortune, I
shall draw for little, more till my return; so
you will have always enough to spare for
my wife. The beginning of March be so
kind as to let her have a hundred pounds to
begin her year with.
There are a good many English here,
very few in Rome, or other parts of Italy.
The air of Naples agrees very well with
me;-I shall return fat.-My friendship to
all who honor me with theirs.-Adieu, my
dear friend:-I am ever yours,
L. STERNE.


LETTER LXVII.
TO MR. PANCHAUD, AT PARIS.
Naples, February 14, 1766.
DEAR SIR,
I WROTE last week to you, to desire you
would let Mrs. Sterne have what money
she wanted.-It may happen, as that letter
went inclosed in one to her at Tours, that
you will receive this first. I have made
little use of your letters of credit, as yyi
will see by that letter: nor shall I waAt
much (if any) till you see me, as I travel
now in company with a gentleman:.-however, as we return by Venice, Vienna, Berlin, &c. to the Spa, I should be glad if you
will draw me a letter of credit upon some
one at Venice, to the extent of fifty Louis;
-but I am persuaded I shall not want half
of them: however, in case of sickness or accidents, one would not go so long a route
without money in one's pocket.-The bankers here are not so conscientious as my
friend P.; they would make me pay twelve
per cent. if I was to get a letter here. I beg
your letters, &c. may be inclosed to Mr.
Watson at Venice,-where we shall be in
the Ascension. I have received much benefit from the air of Naples;-but quit it tobe
at Romnebefore the Holy Week. There are
about five-and-twenty English here;-but
most of them will be decamped in two
months: there are scarce a third of the
number at Rome; I suppose, therefore, that
Paris is full.-My warmest wishes attend
you,-with my love to Mr. F., and compliments to all.-I am, dear Sir, very faithfully,
yours,
L. STERNE.
Sir James Macdonald is in the house with
me, and is just recovering from a long and
most cruel fit of the rheumatism.
LETTER LXVIII.
TO J-    H —- S —-, ESQ.


M
T)o A T,   A x,rxTOTIr


ay 25, near Dijon, [1T'66.j


IX  desire of seeing both my wife and
girl, has turned me out of my road towards
31'




366


LETTERS.


a. delicious chateau of the Countess of M-,
where I have been patriarching it these
seven days with her Ladyship, and half
a dozen of very handsome and agreeable
ladies.-Her Ladyship has the best of
hearts:-a valuable present, not given to
every one. To-morrow, with regret, I shall
quit this agreeable circle, and post it night
and day to Paris, where I shall -arrive in
two days, and just wind myself up, when I
am there, enough to roll on to Calais;-so
I hope to sup with you the King's birth-day,
according to a plan of sixteen days' standing.
Never~man has been such a wildgoose chase
after a wife as I have been.-After having
sought her in five or six different towns, I
found her at last in Franche Compte.-Poor
woman! she was very cordial, &c. and begs
to stay another year or two.-My Lydia
pleases me much.-I found her greatly improved in every thing I wished her.-I am
most unaccountably well, and most unaccountably nonsensical;-'tis at least a proof
of good spirits; which is a sign and token
given mein these latter days, that I must
take up again the pen. In faith, I think I
shall die with it in my hand; but I shall live
these ten years, my Anthony, notwithstanding the fears of my wife, whom I left most
melancholy on that account. This is a delicious part of the world; most celestial
weather, and we lie all day, without damps,
upon the grass,-and that is the whole of
it, except the inner man (for her Ladyship
is not stingy of her wine) is inspired twice
a day with the best Burgundy that grows
upon the mountains which terminate our
lands here. Surely, you will not have decamped to Crazy Castle before I reach-town.
The summer here is set in in good earnest:
-'tis more than we can say for Yorkshire.
I hope to hear a good tale of your alumworks. Have you no other works in hand?
I do not expect to hear from you; so God
prosper you, and all your undertakings.-I
am, my dear cousin,
Most affectionately yours,
L. STERNE.
Remember me to Mr. G —, Cardinal
S —, the Colonel, &c.


LETTER LXIX.
TO MR. PANCHAUD, AT PARIS.
York, June 28, 1766
DEAR SIR,
I WROTE last week to Mr. Becket to dis
charge the balance due to you;-and I have
received a letter from him, telling me, that
if you willdraw upon him for one hundred
and sixty pounds, he will punctually pay it
to your-order;-so send the draughts when
you please.-Mrs. Sterne writes me word,
she wants fifty pounds; which I desire you
will let her have: I will take care to remit
it to your correspondent. I have such an
entire confidence in my wife, that she
spends as little as she can, though she is
confined to no particular sum: -her expenses will not exceed three hundred
pounds a year, unless by ill-health or a journey,-and I am very willing she should
have it;-and you may rely, in case it ever
happens that she should draw for fifty or a
hundred pounds extraordinary, that it and
every demand shall be punctually paid,and with proper thanks; and for this the
whole Shandean family are ready to stand
security.'Tis impossible to tell you how
sorry I was that my affairs hurried me so
quick through Paris, as to deprive me of
seeing my old friend Mr. Foley, and of the
pleasure I proposed in being made known
to his better half;-but I have a probability
of seeing him this winter. Adieu, dear
Sir, and believe me


Most cordially yours,
L. STERNE.


LETTER LXX.
TO MR. 5.


Coxwould, July 23, 1766.
DEAR SIR,
ONE might be led to think that there is a
fatality regarding us:-we make appointments to meet; and- for these two years
have not seen each other's face but twice;
-we must try and do better for the future.
Having sought you with more zeal than




LETTERS.'


367


C — sought the Lord, in order to deliver
you the books you bade me purchase for
you at Paris,-I was forced to pay carriage
for them from London down to York;-but
as I shall neither charge you the books nor
the carriage,-'tis not worth talking about.
Never man, my dear Sir, has had a more
agreeable tour than your Yorick;-and at
present I am in my peaceful retreat, writing
the ninth volume* of Tristram. I shall
publish but one this year; and the next I
shall begin-a new work of four volumes,
which when finished, I shall continue Tris+ram with fresh spirit. What a difference
of scene here! But, with a disposition to
be happy,'tis neither this place nor t'other
that renders us the reverse. In short, each
man's happiness depends upon himself:he is a fool if he does not enjoy it.
What are you about, dear S —i  Give
me some account of your pleasures.-You
had better come to me for a fortnight, and
I will show, or give you (if needful) a
practical dose of my philosophy; but I hope
you do not want it;-if you did,'twould
be the office of a friend to give it. Will
not even our races tempt you T  You see I
use all arguments.-Believe me yours most
truly,
L. STERNE.
LETTER LXXI.
TO MR. PANCHAUD, AT PARIS.
Coxwould, Sept. 21,1766.
MY DEAR FRIEND,
IF Mrs: Sterne, should draw upon you for
fifty Louis d'ors, be so kind as to remit her
the money;-and pray be so good as not
to draw upon Mr. Becket for it (as he owes
me nothing) but favor me with the draught,
which I will pay to Mr. Selwin. A young
nobleman is now negotiating a jaunt with
me for six weeks, about Christmas, to the
Fauxbourg de St. Germain.-I should like
much to be with you for so long; and if my
wife should grow worse (having had a very
poor account of her in my daughter's last)
I cannot think of her being without me:and however expensive the journey would


be, I would fly to Avignin to administer
consolation to both her and my poor girl.Wherever I am, believe me, dear Sir,
Yours,
L. STERNE.
My kind compliments to Mr. Foley.
Though I have not the honor of knowing
his rib, I see no reason why I may not present all due respects to the better half of sc
old a friend, which I do by these presents
-with my friendliest wishes to Miss P.
LETTER LXXII.
TO MR. FOLEY, AT PARIS.
Coxwould, Oct. 25, 1766.
MY DEAR FOLEY,
I DESIRED yOU would be so good as to
remit to-Mrs. Sterne fifty Louis, a month
ago.-I dare say you have done it;-but
her illness must have cost her a good deal:
-therefore, having paid the last fifty pounds
into Mr. Selwin's hands, I beg you to send
her thirty guineas more,-for which I send
a bank-bill to Mr. Becket by this post;but surely, had I not done so, you wo ild no
stick at it;-for be assured, my dear Foley
that the First Lord of the Treasury is neither more able nor more willing (nor perhaps half so punctual) in repaying with
honor all I ever can be in your books.-My
daughter says her mother is very ill,-and
I fear, going fast down, by all accounts:-'tis melancholy in her situation to want my
aid that is in my power to give.-Do w rite
to her;-and believe me, with all compliments to your Iotel,
Yours very truly,
L. STERNIS.
LETTER LXXIII.
TO MR. PANCHAUD.
York, November 25, 1766.
DEAR SIR,
I JUST received yours; and am glad tha'.
the balance of accounts is now paid to you.
-Thus far all goes welL.-I have received
a letter from my daughter with the pleasing
tidings that she "'l inks her mother out of


* Alluding to the first edition.




368


LETTERS.


danger,-and that the air of the country is the character of your amiable uncle Toby.
delightful (excepting the winds); but the -I declare I would walk ten miles in the
description of the chateau my wife has dog-days, to shake hands with the honest
hired is really pretty:-on the side of the Corporal.-Your sermons have touched me
Fountain of Vaucluse,-with seven rooms to the heart, and, I hope, have amended it;
of a floor, half furnished with tapestry, which brings me to the point.-In your
half with blue taffety, the permission to fish, tenth discourse, is this very affecting pasand to have game; so many partridges a sage:-" Consider how great a part of our
week, &c.; and the price — guess! Six- "species, in all ages down to this, have been
teen guineas a year!-there's for you, P. "trod under the feet of cruel and capricious
About the latter end of next month, my wife "tyrants, who would neither hear their
will have occasion for a hundred guineas; " cries, nor pity their distresses!-Consider
-and pray be so good, my dear Sir, as to "slavery,-whatitis,-how bitteradraught,
give orders that she may not be disappoint- "and how many millions are made to drink
ed:-she is going to spend the Carnival at "of it! —Of all my favorite authors, not
Marseilles at Christmas;-I shall be in Lon- one has'drawn a tear in favor of my miserdon by Christmas-week, and then shall able black brethren, -excepting yourself,
balance this remittance to Mrs. S. with Mr. and the humane author of Sir Geo. Ellison.
S —. I am going to lie-in of another child -I think you will forgive me,-I am sure
of the Shandaic procreation, in town.-I you will applaud me,-for beseeching you
hope you wish me a safe delivery. -I fear to give one half-hour's attention to slavery,
my friend Mr. F. will have left town before as it is this day practised in our West InI get there.-Adieu, dear Sir.-I wish you dies.-That subject handled in your striking
every thing in this world which will do you manner, would ease the yoke (perhaps of
good, for I am, with unfeigned truth,  many;) but if only of one,-gracious God!
Yours,        what a feast to a benevolent heart! and
L. STERNE. sure I am, you are an Epicurean in acts of
Make my compliments acceptable to the charity. -You, who are universally read,
good and worthy Baron d'Holbach, -Miss and as universally admired,-you could not
P. &c. &c.                            fail.-Dear Sir, think in me you behold the
uplifted hands of thousands of my brothel
Moors. Grief (you pathetically observe) is
LETT ER LXXIV.             eloquent: figure to yourself their attitudes.
LETTERI LXXIV.                                your
hear their supplicating addresses!-alas!
FROM IGNATIUS SANCHO           you cannot refuse. Humanity must comply;
TO MR. STERNE.             -in which hope, I beg permission to sub.
[1766.] scribe myself,
REVEREND SIR,                                  Reverend Sir, &c.


IT would be an insult on your humanity
(or, perhaps, look like it) to apologize for the
liberty I am taking.-I am one of those
people whom the vulgar and illiberal call
Negroes.-The first part of my life was
rather unlucky, as I was placed in a family
who judged ignorance the best and only se-urity for obedience. A little reading and
writing I got by unwearied application.The latter part of my life has been, through
God's blessing, truly fortunate,- having
spent it in the service of one of the best
and greatest families in the kingdom.-My
chief pleasure has been books: —Philant.ilropy I adore —How very much, good Sir,
am I (amongst millions) indebted to you for


I. S


LETTER LXXV.
FROM MR. STERNE
TO IGNATIUS SANCHO.
Coxwould, July 27, 1766,
THERE is a strange coincidence, Sancho,
in the little events (as well as in the great
ones) of this world; for I had been writing
a tender tale of the sorrows of a friendless
poor negro girl; and my eyes had scarce
done smarting with it, when your letter of
recommendation, in behalf of so many of




LETTERS.


369


ner brethren and sisters, came to me;but why her brethren?-or yours, Sancho,
-any more than mine   It is bythe finest
tints and most insensible gradations that
Nature descends from the fairest face about
St. James's to the sootiest complexion in
Africa.-At which tint of these is it, that
the ties of blood are to cease  and how
many shades must we descend lower still
in the scale, ere mercy is to vanish with
thenm  But'tis no uncommon thing, my
good Sancho, for one half of the world to
use the other half of it like brutes, and then
endeavor to make them so. For my own
part, I never look westward (when I am in a
pensive mood at least) but I think of the
burdens which our brothers and sisters are
there carrying;, and, could I ease their
shoulders from one ounce of them, I declare
I would set out this hour upon a pilgrimage
to Mecca for their sakes;-which, by the
bye, Sancho, exceeds your walk of ten miles
in about the same proportion that a visit of
humanity should one of mere form.-However, if you meant my uncle Toby more, he
is your debtor.-If I can weave the tale I
have wrote into the work I am about,-'tis
at the service of the afflicted,-and a much
greater matter: for, in serious truth, it casts
a sad shade upon the world, that so great a
part of it are, and have been so long, bound
in chains of darkness, and in chains of
misery; and I cannot but both respect and
felicitate you, that, by so much laudable
diligence, you have broke the one;-and
that, by falling into the hands of so good
and merciful a family, Providence has rescued you from the other.
And so, good-hearted Sancho, adieu! and,
believe me, I will not forget your letter.
Yours,
L. STERNE.
LETTER LXXVI.
TO MR. W.
Coxwould, Dec. 23, 1766.
THANKS, my dear W —, for your letter.
I am just preparing to come and greet you
und many other friends in town.-I have
2W


drained my inkstandish to the bottom; and,
after I have published, shall set my face,
not towards Jerusalem, but towards the
Alps.-I find I must once more fly from
death whilst I have strength.-I shall go to
Naples, and see whether the air of that
place will not set this poor frame to rights.
-As to the project of getting a bear to
lead, I think I have enough to do to govern myself; -and however profitable it
might be (according to your opinion) I am
sure it would be unpleasurable.-Few are
the minutes of life; and I do not think that
I have ally to throw away on any one being.
-I shall spend nine or ten months in Italy,
and call upon my wife and daughter in
France, at my return;-so shall be back by
the King's birth-day.-What a project!and now, my dear friend, am I going to
York; not for the sake of society, nor to
walk by the side of the muddy Ouse, but
to recruit myself of the most violent spitting
of blood that ever mortal man experienced;
because I had rather (in case it is ordained
so) die there than in a post-chaise on the
road.-If the amour of my uncle Toby do
not please you, I am mistaken; and so with
a droll story I will finish this letter.
A sensible friend of mine, with whom,
not long ago, I spent some hours in conversation, met an apothecary (an acquaintance
of ours).-The latter asked him how he
did?-" Why ill, very ill: I have been with
( Sterne, who has given me such a dose of
"Attic Salt, that I am in a fever."-' Attic'salt, Sir! Attic salt! I have Glauber salt,'I have Epsom Salt in my shop, &c.-Oh!'I suppose'tis some French salt.-I wonder' you would trust his report of the medicine'he cares not what he takes himself.'-1
fancy I see you smile.-I long to be able to
be in London, and embrace my friends
there;-and shall enjoy myself a week or
ten days at Paris with my friends, particularly the Baron d'Holbach, and the'rest ot
the joyous set.-Asto the females;-no, I
will not say a word about them;-only I
hate borrowed characters, taken up as a
woman does her shift, for the purpose sni.a
intends to effectuate. Adieu, adieu.-I anm
yours, whilst
L. STERNE.




370


LETTERS.


LETTER LXXVII.
TO MR. PANCHAUD, AT PARIS.
~ondon, Feb. 13, 1767.
DEAR P-,
1 PAID yesterday (by Mr. Becket) a hundred guineas, or pounds, I forget which, to
Mr. Selwin:-hbut you must remit to Mrs.
Sterne, at Marseilles, a hundred Louis before she leaves that place, which will be in
less than three weeks. Have you got the
ninth volume of Shandy?*-it is liked the
best of all here.-I am going to publish a
Sentimental Journey through France and
Italy.-The undertaking is protected and
highly encouraged by all our noblesse;-'tis
subscribed fbr at a great rate; —'twill be an
original, in large' quarto; the subscription
half a guinea.-If you can procure me the
honor of a few names of men of science or
fashion, I shall thank you;-they will appear in good company, as' all the nobility
here almost have honored me with their
names.-My kindest remembrance to Mr.
Foleyv.-Respects to Baron d'Holbach, and
believe me ever, ever yours,
L. STERNE.
LETTER LXXVIII.
TO MISS STERNE.
Old Bond Street, Feb. 28, 1767.
AND so, my Lydia, thy mother and thyself are returning back again from Marseilles to the banks of the Sorgue,-and
there thou wilt sit and fish for trouts.-I
envy you the sweet situation. —Petrarch's
tomlb I should like to pay a sentimental visit
to.-The Fountain of Vaucluse, by thy description, must be delightful. —I am' also
much pleased with the account you give
me of the Abb6 de Sade;-you find great
comfort in such a neighbor.-I am glad he
is se good as to- correct thy translation of
fny Sermons.-Dear girl, go on, and make
me a present of thy work:-but why not
the House of Mourning 3'tis one of the best.
-I long to receive the Life of Petrarch and
his Laura, by your Abb6; but I am out of


all patience witli the answer the M a"rquis
made the Abb6; %Nvias truly coarse, abd
I wonder he bore it with any Christian
patience.-Butito the subject of your letter.
-I. do not wish to know who was -the, busy
fool who made your mother uneasy about
Mrs. :'tis true, I have a friendship for
her, butnot to inflatuation.-I believe I have
judgment enough to discern hers, and every
woman's faults. I honor thy mother for
her answer.-That she wished not tobe
inf6rmed; and begged -him to drop the
subject.-Wby do you say that your mother
wants money 1 WI-filst I have a shilling,
shall you not have ninepence out of it?-I.
think, if I have my enjo    I ought not
to grudge you yours.-I shall not begin my,
Sentimental Journey till I get to Coxwould.
I have laid a plan for something new,
quite out of the beaten track. I wish I had
you with me, and I would -introduce you to
one of the most amiable and ge ntlest- of
beings, whom I have just been witb;-not
Mrs.      but a Mrs.'J —-, the'wife -of as
worthy a man as I eve r met with; I esteem
them both. He possesses every manly Virtue;-honor and bravery are his characteristics, which have distinguished him nobly
in several instances. -1 shall make you
better acquainted - with his character, by
sending Orme's History, with the books
you desired,-, and it is well worth your
reading.; for Orme is,, an elegant writer,
and- a just one; he pays no. man, a compliMent at the expense of truth.-Mrs. J
is kind and friendly; of a, sentimental turn
of mind, and so sweet a dis osition, that she
is too good for the world she lives in.-Just
God! if all were like her, What a life would
this be!-Heaven, my Lydia, fbr some Wise
purpose, has created different beings.-I
wish my dear c1hild knew her;, thou art
worthy of her friendship, and she already
loves thee; for I sometimes tell her what
I feel for tbee.-Tbis is a, long letter.Write soon, and never let your letters be
studied ones; write naturally, and then
you will write well.-I hope your motheT
has got quite well of her ague.-I have
sent her, some of Huxham's tincture of the
bark.-I will order you a guitar, since the
other is broke.-'Be'lieve me,,my Lydia,


all patience with the answer the Marquis
made the Abb6;'twas truly coarse, ahd
I wonder he bore it with any Christian
patience.-But to the subject of your letter.
— I do not wish to know who was the busy
fool who made your mother uneasy about
Mrs. -:'tis true, I have a friendship for
her, butnot to infatuation.-I believe I have
judgment enough to discern hers, and every
woman's faults. I honor thy mother for
her answer.-That she wished not to be
informed; and begged him to drop the
subject.-Why do-you say that your mother
wants money 7 WVh-ilst I have a shilling,
shall you not have ninepence out of it? —I
think, if I have my enjoyments, I ought not
to grudge you yours.-I shall not begin my,
Sentimental Journey till I get to Coxwould.
-I have laid a plan for something new,
quite out of the beaten track. I wish I had
you with me, and I would introduce you to
one of the most amiable and gentlest of
beings, whom I have just been with; —not
Mrs. -, but a Mrs.'J-, the wife of as
worthy a man as I ever met with; I esteem
them both. He possesses every manly virtue;-honor and bravery are his characteristics, which have distinguished him nobly
in several instances. -I shall make you
b,etter acquainted- with his character, by
sending Orme's History, with the books
you desired, — and it is well worth your
reading; for Orme is, an elegant writer,
and a just one; he pays no man. a compliment at the expense of truth,-Mrs. Jis kind and friendly; of a sentimental turn
of mind, and so sweet a disposition, that she
is too good for the world she lives in.-Just
God! if all were like her, what a life would
this be!-Heaven, my Lydia, for some wise
purpose, has created different beings.-I
wish my dear child knew her; thou art
worthy of her friendship, and she already
loves thee; for I sometimes tell her what
I feel for thee.-This is a long letter.Write soon, and never let your letters be
studied ones; write naturally, and then
you will write well.-I hope your mother
has got quite well of her ague.-I have
sent her some of Huxham's tincture of the
bark.-I will order you a guitar, since the
other is broke.-'Believe me, my Lydia,
that I am yours affectionately,
L. ETERNE


-


* Alluding to the first edition.




LETTERS.


371


LETTER LXXIX.
TO MR. PANCHAUD, AT PARIS.
London, Feb. 27, 1767.
DEAR SIR,
MY daughter begs a present of me, and
you must know I can deny her nothing.It must be strung with cat-gut and of five
chords, si chiama in Italiano la chitera di
cinque corde. She cannot get such a thing
at Marseilles; at Paris one may have every
thing.  Will you be so good to my girl as
to make her happy in this affair, by getting
some musical body to buy one, and send it
her to Avignon, directed to Monsieur
Tester-I wrote last week to desire you
would remit Mrs. S       a hundred Louis:'twill be all, except the guitar, I shall owe
you. Send me your account, and I will
pay Mr. Selwin.- Direct to me at Mr.
Becket's. All kind respects to my friend
Mr. F. and your sister.
Yours cordially,
L. STERNE.
LETTER LXXX.*
TO ELIZA.t
ELIZA will receive my books with this.
The sermons came all hot from the heart.
I wish that I could give them any title to
* This and the nine following Letters have no dates
to them, but were evidently written in the months of
March and April, 1767. They are therefore here placed
together.
t The Editor of the first publication of Mr. Sterne's
Letters to Eliza, gives the following account of this
Lady;-" Mrs. Elizabeth Draper, wife of Daniel Dia"per, Esq. Counsellor at Bombay, and at present (i. e.
"in 1775,) chief of the factory at Surat, a gentlemana
"very much respected in that quarter of the globe."She is by birth an East Indian; but the circumstance
"of being born in the country, not proving sufficient
"to defend her delicate frame against the heats of
"that burning climate, she came to England for the
"recovery of her health, when, by accident, she be"came acquainted with Mr. Sterne. He immediately
"discovered in her, a mind so congenial with his own,
"so enlightened, so refined, and so tender, that their'mutual attraction presently joined them in the'closest union that purity could possibly admit of:
"he loved her as his friend, and prided in her as his'pupil: all her concerns became presently his; her'health, her circumstances, her reputation, her chil-'dien, were his; his fortune, his time, his country,'were at her disposal, so far as the sacrifice of all or


be offered to yours. The others came from
the head: I am more indifferent about their
reception.
I know not how it comes about, but I am
half in love with you; I ought to be wholly
so; for I never valued (or saw more good
qualities to value) or thought more of one
of your sex than of you; so adieu.
Yours faithfully,
If not affectionately,
L. STERNE.
LETTER LXXXI.
TO THE SAME.
I CANNOT rest, Eliza, though I shall call
on you at half past twelve, till I know how
you do.-May thy dear face smile, as thou
risest like the sun of this morning. I was
much grieved to hear of your alarming indisposition yesterday; and disappointed too,
at not being let in.-Remember, my dear,
that a friend has the same right as a physician. The etiquettes of this town (you'll
say) say otherwise.-No matter. Delicacy
and propriety do not always consist in observing their rigid doctrines.
I am going out to breakfast, but shall be
at my lodgings by eleven: when I hope to
read a single line under thy own hand, that
thou art better, and wilt be glad to see thy
Bramin.
9 o'clock.
"any of these might, in his opinion, contribute to her
"real happiness. If it is asked, whether the glowing
"heat of Mr. Sterne's affection never transported him
"to a flight beyond the limits of pure Platonism? the
"publisher will not take upon him absolutely to deny
"it: but this, he thinks, so far from leaving any stain
"upon that gentleman's memory, that it, perhaps, in
"eludes his fairest encomium; since to cherish the
"seeds of piety and chastity in a heart which the pas"sions are interested to corrupt, must be allowed to
"be the noblest effort of a soul fraught and fortified
"with the justest sentiments of religion and virtue,"
After reading these letters, the curiosity of the plhb
lic will be naturally excited to inquire concerning
the fate of the Lady to whom they are addressed. To
this question, it will be sufficient to answer, that she
has been dead some years, and that it might give pai a
to many Worthy persons, if the circumstances which
attended the latter part of her life were disclosed aa
they are generally said to have reflected no credi
either on her prudence or discretion.




3YS? LETTERS.
LETTER LXXXII.               am not ashamed to acknowledge, I greatly
miss thee.- Best of all girls! the sufferTO THE SAME.
TO THE SAME.      ~ings I have sustained the whole night on
1 GOT thy letter last night, Eliza, on my account of thine, Eliza, are beyond my
return from Lord Bathurst's, where I dined, power of words. -Assuredly does Heaven
and where I was heard (as I talked of thee give strength proportioned to the weight
an hour without intermission) with so much he lays upon us! Thou hast been bowed
pleasure and attention, that the good old down, my child, with every burden that
Lord toasted your health three different sorrow of heart and pain of body could
times; and now he is in his eighty-fifth inflict upon a poor being; and still thou
year, says he hopes to live long enough to tellest me, thou art beginning to get ease;
be introduced, as a friend, to my fair Indian -thy fever gone, thy sickness, the pain in
disciple, and to see her eclipse all other thy side vanishing also.-May every evil so
Nabobesses as much in wealth as she does vanish that thwarts Eliza's happiness, or
already in exterior and (what is far better) but awakens thy fears for a moment!-Fear
in interior merit. I hope so too. This no- nothing, my dear!- hope every thing;bleman is an old friend of mine.- You and the balm of this passion will shed its
know he was always the protector of men influence on thy health, and make thee enof wit and genius; and has had those of joy a spring of youth and cheerfulness more
the last century, Addison, Steele, Pope, than thou hast hardly yet tasted!'Swift, Prior, &c. &c. always at his table.  And so thou hast fixed thy Bramin's por-The manner in which his notice began trait over thy writing-desk; and wilt conof me, was as' singular as it was polite.- sult it in all. donbts and difficulties.-GrateHe came up to me, one day, as I was at the ful and good girl! Yorick smiles contentedly
Princess of Wales's court. "I want to over all thou dost: his picture does not do
know you, Mr. Sterne; but it is fit you justice to his own complacency!
should know also, who it is that wishes  Thy sweet little plan and distribution of
this pleasure. You have heard, continued thy time, -how worthy of thee! Indeed,
he, of an old Lord Bathurst, of whom your Eliza, thou leavest me nothing to direct thee
Popes and Swifts have sung and spoken so in! thou leavest me nothing to require,much. I have lived my life with geniuses nothing to ask,-but a continuation of that
of that cast; but have survived them; and conduct which won my esteem, and has
despairing ever to find their equals, it is made me thy friend for ever!
some years since I have closed my accounts,  May the roses come quick back to thy
and shut up my books, with thoughts of cheeks, and the rubies to thy lips! But
neveropening them again; but you have trust my declaration, Eliza, that thy huskindled a desire in me of opening them band (if he is the good feeling man I wish
once more before. ale; which I now do; him) will press thee to him with more honest
so go home and dine with me."-This no- warmth and affection, and kiss thy pale, poor
bleman, I say, is a prodigy; for at eighty- dejected face with more transport than he
five he has all' the wit and promptness of a would be able to do in the best bloom of all
man of thirty,-a disposition to be pleased, thy beauty!-and so he ought, or I pity
and a power to please others beyond what-' him. He must have strange feelings if he
ever I knew: added to which, a man of knows not the value of such a creature as
learning, courtesy, and feeling.      thou art!
te. heard me talk ofthee, Eliza, withun-  I am glad Miss Light* goes with you.
common satisfaction;-for there was only She may relieve you from many anxious
a third person, and of sensibility, with us: moments.-I am glad your ship-mates are
-and a most sentimental afternoon, till friendly beings. You could least dispense
nine o'clock,) have we passed. But thou, with what is contrary to your own nature,
Eliza, wert the star that conducted and en- -which is soft and gentle, Eliza.-It would!iven'd the discourse:-and when I talked    -
* Miss Light afterwards married George Stratton,
rlot of thee, still didst thou fill my mindEsq. late in the service of the East India Company
and warmed every thought I uttered; for I at Madras, She is since dead.




LETTERS.


373


civilize savages!-though pity were it thou
should'st be tainted With the office! How
canst thou make apologies for thy last letter?'tis most delicious to me, for the very reason
you excuse it. Write to me, my child, only
such. Let them speak the easy carelessness
ofa heart that opens itself any how, and
every how, to a man you ought to esteem
and trust. Such, Eliza, I write to thee;and so I should ever live with thee, most
artlessly, most affectionately, if Providence
permitted thy residence in the same section
of the globe:-for I am, all that honor and
affection can make me,


lH Y BIJAVIlN.


LETTER LXXXIII.
TO THE SAME.






tions that say so 3 or their zeal for those attachments, which do thee honor, and make
thee happy 1 or their tenderness for thy
fame? No; but they weep, and say tender
things.-Adieu to all such for ever. Mrs.
James's honest heart revolts against the
idea of ever returning them one visit. —I
honor her, and I honor thee, for almost
every act of thy life, but this blind partiality for an unworthy being.
Forgive my zeal, dear girl, and allow me
a right which arises only out of that fund
of affection I have, and shall preserve for
thee to the hour of my death! Reflect,
Eliza, what are my motives for perpetually
advising thee.? think whether I can haves
any, but what proceed from the cause I
have mentioned! I think you are a very
deserving woman; and that you want nothing but firmness and a better opinion of
yourself, to be the best female character J
know. I wish I could inspire you with a'
share of that vanity your enemies lay to
your charge (though to me it has never
been visible) because I think, in a well,
turned mind it will produce good effects.
I probably shall never see you more: yet
I flatter myself, you'll sometimes think of
me with pleasure! because you must be
convinced I love you, and so interest myself
in your rectitude, that I had rather hear of
any evil befalling you, than your want of
reverence for yourself. I had not power to
keep this remonstrance in my breast.-It's
now out; so adieu. Heaven watch over my


I WRITE this, Eliza, at Mr. James's whilst
ne is dressing, and the dear girl, his wife,
is writing beside me, to thee.-I got your
melancholy billet before we sat down to
dinner.'Tis melancholy indeed, my dear,
to hear so piteous an account of thy sickness! Thou art encountered with evils
enow, without that additional weight! I
fear it will sink thy poor soul, and body
with it, past recovery: -Heaven supply
thee with fortitude! We have talked of
nothing but thee, Eliza, and of thy sweet
virtues and endearing conduct, all the afternoon. Mrs. James and thy Bramin have
mixed their tears a hundred times, in speaking of thy hardships, thy goodness, and thy
graces.-The ****s, by hea-vens, are worthless! I have heard enough to tremble at
the articulation of the name! How could
you, Eliza, leave them, (or suffer them to
leave you rather) with impressions the least
favorable? I have told thee enough to plant
disgust against their treachery to thee, to
the last hour of thy life! Yet still thou
toldest Mrs. James at last, that thou believest they affectionately love thee.-Her delicacy to my Eliza, and true regard to her
ease of mind, have saved thee from hearing
more glaring proofs of their baseness. For
God's sake, write not to them; nor foul thy
fair character with such polluted hearts:They love thee! what proof? Is it their ac

I




Eliza!


Thine,


YORICK.


LETTER LXXXIV.
TO THE SAME.
To whom should Eliza apply in her ais
tress, but to her friend who loves her? why
then, my dear, do you apologize for employing me   Yorick would be offended, and
with reason, if you ever sent commissions
to another which hecould execute. I have
been with Zumps; and your piano-forte
must be tuned from the brass middle stLng~
of your guitar, which is C.-1 have got.
32




374


LETTERS.


you a hammer too, and pair of pliers to
twist your wire with; and may every one
of them, my dear, vibrate sweet comfort to
my hopes! I have bought you ten handsome
brass screws, to hang your necessaries upon:
I purchased twelve; but stole a couple from
you to put up in my own cabin, at Coxwould: I shall never hang, nor take my hat
off one of them, but I shall think of you. I
have bought thee, moreover, a couple of
iron screws, which are more to be depended
on than brass, for the globes.
I have written also to Mr. Abraham
Walker, pilot at Deal, that I had dispatched,
these in a packet directed to his care; which
I desired he would seek after the moment
the Deal machine arrived. I have, moreover, given him directions what sort of an
arm-chair you would want, and have directed him to purchase the best that Deal
could afford; and take it, with the parcel,
in the first boat that went off. Would I
could, Eliza, so supply all thy wants, and all
thy wishes!-it would be a state of happiness to me.-The journal is as it should be,
all but its contents. Poor, dear, patient being! I do more than pity you; for I think
I lose both firmness and philosophy-as I
figure to myself your distresses. Do not
think I; spoke last night with too much asperity of ****; there was cause; and besides, a-good heart ought not to love a bad
one; and, indeed, cannot. But, adieu to the
ungrateful subject.
I have been this morning to see Mrs.
James: she loves thee tenderly and unfeignedly. She is alarmed for thee:-she'says thou looked'st most ill and melancholy
on going away. She pities thee. I shall
visit her every Sunday while I am in town.
-As this may be my last letter, I earnestly
bid thee farewell. May the God of kindness
be kind to thee, and approve himself thy
protector, now thou art defenceless! And,
for thy daily comfort, bear in thy mind this
truth, That whatever measure of sorrow
and distress is thy portion, it will be repaid
to thee in a full measure of happiness, by
the Being thou hast wisely chosen for thy
eternal friend.
Farewell, farewell, Eliza! Whilst I live,
sount upon me as the most warm and disinterested of earthly friends.
YORICK.


LETTER LXXXV.
TO THE SAME.
MY DEAREST ELIZA,
I BEGAN a new journal this morning; you
shall' see it; for if I live not till your return to England, I will leave it you as a
legacy.'Tis a sorrowful page; but I will
write cheerful ones; and could I write letters to thee, they should be cheerful ones
too: but few, I fear, will reach thee! However, depend upon receiving something of
the' kind by every post; till then, thou
wavest thy hand, and bid'st me write no
more.
Tell me how you are; and what sort of
fortitude Heaven inspires you with. How
are you accommodated, my dear?-is all
right? -Scribble away, any thing and every
thing to me. Depend upon seeing me at
Deal, with the Jameses, should you be detained there by contrary winds.-Indeed,
Eliza, I should with pleasure fly to you,
could I be the means of rendering you any
service, or doing you kindness. Gracious
and merciful God! consider the anguish of
a poor girl!-Strengthen and preserve her
in all the shocks her frame must be exposed
to! She is now without a protector, but
thee! Save her from all accidents of a dangerous element,- and give her comfort at
the last!
My prayer, Eliza, I hope, is heard! for
the sky seems to smile upon me, as I look
up to it. I am just returned from our dear
Mrs. James's, where I have been talking
of thee for three hours.-She has got your
picture, and likes it: but Marriot, and some
other judges, agree that mine is the better,
and expressive of a-sweeter character.But what is that to the original? yet I acknowledge that hers is a picture for the
world, and mine is calculated only to please
a very sincere friend, or sentimental philosopher. In the one, you are dressed in
smiles, and with all the advantages of silks,
pearls, and ermine;-in the other, simple
as a vestal,-appearing the good girl Nature made you;-which, to me, conveys an
idea of more unaffected sweetness than
Mrs. Draper, habited for conquest in a
birth-day suit, with her countenance animated, and her dimples visible. If I re



LETTERS.                                375
member right, Eliza, you endeavored to I beheld in all my travels, are manifestly
collect every charm of your person into injured by the affected leer of the one, and
your face, with more than common care, strange appearance of the other; owing to
the day you sat for Mrs. James.- Your the attitude of the head, which is a proof
color, too, brightened; and your eyes shone of the aortist's or your friend's false taste.
with more than usual brilliancy. I then The ****s, who verify the character I once
irequested you to come simple and una- gave of teasing, or sticking like pitch or
corned when you sat for me;-knowing bird-lime, sent a card that they would wait
(as I see with unprejudiced eyes) that you on Mrs. **** on Friday. - She sent back
could receive no addition from  the silk- she was engaged.-Then to meet at Raneworm's aid, or jeweller's polish. Let me lagh to-night.-She answered, she did not
now tell you a truth, which I believe I have go.-She says, if she allows the least footuttered before.-When I first saw you, I ing, she never shall get rid of the acquaintbeheld you as an object of compassion, and ance; which she is resolved to drop at
as a very plain woman. The mode of your once. She knows them:-she knows they'ress (though fashionable) disfigured you. are not her friends, nor yours;-and the
-But nothing now could render you such, first use they would make of being with
but the being solicitous to make yourself her, would be to sacrifice you to her, if
admired as a handsome one.-You are not they could, a second time. Let her not
handsome, Eliza, nor is yours a face that then; let her not, my dear, be a greater
will please the tenth part of your behold- friend to thee than thou art to thyself. She
ers,-but are something more; for I scruple begs I will reiterate my request to you,
not to tell you, I never saw so intelligent, that you will not write to them. It will
so animated, so good a countehance; nor give her, and thy Bramin, inexpressible
ever was there, nor ever will be, that man pain. Be assured, all this is not without
of sense, tenderness, and feeling, in your reason on her side. I have my reasons too;
company three hours, that was not, or will the first of which is, that I should grieve
not be, your admirer or friend, in conse- to excess, if Eliza wanted that fortitude her
quence of it; that is, if you assume, or as- Yorick has built so high upon. I said I
sumed, no character foreign to your own, never more' would mention the name to
but appeared the artless being Nature de- thee; and had I not received it as a kind of
signed you for. A something in your eyes charge from a dear woman that loves you,
and voice, you possess in a degree more I should not have broke my word. I will
persuasive than any woman I ever hsaw, write again to-morrow to thee, thou best
read, or heard of. But it is that bewitching and most endearing of girls! A peaceful
sort of nameless excellence, that men of night to thee.-My spirit will be with thee
nice sensibility alone can be touched with. through every watch of it.-Adieu.
Were your husband in England, I would
freely give him five hundred pounds, if
money could purchase the acquisition, to
let you only sit by me two hours in a day,
LETTER LXXXVI.
while I wrote my Sentimental Journey. ILETTER LXXXV
am sure the work would sell so much the             TO THE SAME.
better for it, that I should be reimbursed
the sum more than seven times told. -I   I THINK you could act no otherwise than
would not give nine-pence for the picture you did with the young soldier. There
ofyou the Newnhams have got executed: was no shutting the door against him.
-it is the resemblance of a conceited, either in politeness or humanity. Tholl
made-up coquette.  Your eyes, and the tellest me he seems susceptible of tender
shape of your face (the latter the most per- impressions; and that before Miss Light
feet oval I ever saw) which are perfections has sailed a fortnight, he will be in love
that must strike the most indifferent judge, with her.-Now I think it a thousand times
oecause they are equal to any of God's more likely that he attaches himself to thee
works in a similar way, and finer than any Eliza; because thou art a thousand t'meas




376'                             LET]
more amiable., Five months with Eliza,and in the same room,-and an amorous
son of Mars besides'!-" It can no be, AMas" ser."-The sun, if he could avoid it, would
not shine upon a dunghill; but his rays are
so pure, Eliza, and celestial,-I never heard
that they were polluted by it.-Just such
will thine be, dearest child, in this, and
every stch situation you will be exposed
to, till thou art fixed for life.-But thy discretion, thy wisdom, thy honor, the spirit
of thy Yorick, and thy own spirit, which is
equal to it, will be thy ablest counsellors.
Surely, by this time, something is doing
for thy accommodation.-But why may not
clean washing and rubbing do instead of
painting your cabin, as it is to be hung?
Paint is so pernicious, both to your nerves
and lungs, and will keep you so much
longer, too, out of your apartment; where,
I hope, you will pass some of your happiest
hours.
I fear the best of your ship-mates are
only genteel by comparison with the contrasted crew, with which thou must behold
them. So was-you know who!-from the
same fallacy that was put upon the judgment, when-but I will not mortify you.
If they are decent and distant, it is enough;
and as; much as is to be expected. If any
of them  are' more, I rejoice;-thou wilt
want every aid; and'tis thy due to have
them. Be cautious only, my dear, of intimacies. Good hearts are open, and fall
naturally into them. Heaven inspire thine
with fortitude in this, and every deadly trial.
Best of God's works, farewell! Love me,
I beseech thee; and remember me for ever!
I am, my Eliza, and will ever be, in the
most comprehensive sense,
Thy friend,
YORICK.
P. S. Probably you will have an opportunity of writing'to me by some Dutch or
French ship, or from the Cape de Verd
Islands.-It will reach'me somehow.
LETTER LXXXVII.
TO THE SAME.
MY DEAR ELIZA,
OH! I grieve for your cabin:-and the
resh nainting will be enough to destroy


7ERS.
every nerve about thee. Nothing so pernicious as white lead. Take care of yourself, dear girl; and sleep not in it too soon:
it will be enough'to give you a stroke of an
epilepsy. I hope you will have left the
ship; and that my letters may meet and
greet you, as you getpout of your post-chaise,
at Deal. When you have got them all, put
them, my dear, into sombe order.-The first
eight or nine are numbered; but I wrote
the rest without that direction to thee; but
thou wilt find them out by the day or hour,
which, I hope, I have generally prefixed to
them. When they are got together, in
chronological order, sew them together under a cover. I trust they will be a perpetual refuge to thee, from time to time;
and that thou wilt (when weary of fools and
uninteresting discourse) retire and converse
an hour with them and me.
I have not had power, or the heart, to
aim at enlivening any one of them with a
single stroke of wit or humor; but they contain'something better: and what you will feel
more suited to your situation;-a long detail of much advice, truth, and knowledge.
I hope, too, you will perceive loose touches
of an honest heart in every one of them;
which speaks more than the most studied
periods; and will give thee more ground
of trust and reliance upon Yorick, than all
that labored eloquence could supply. Lean
then thy whole weight, Eliza, upon them
and upon me. "May poverty, distress, an"guish, and shame, be my portion, if ever
"I give thee reason to, repent the know
"]edge of me!"-With this asseveration,
made in the presence of a just God, I pray
to him, that so it may speed with me, as 1
deal candidly and honorably with thee! I
would not mislead thee, Eliza: I would not
injure thee, in the opinion of a single individual, for the richest crown the proudest
monarch wears.
Remember, that while' I have life and
power, whatever is mine, you may style
and think yours, —though sorry should I
be, if'ever my friendship was put to the
test thus, for your own delicacy's sake.Money and counters are of equal use, in
my opinion,; they both serve to set up with.
I hope you will answer me this letter.
but if thou art debarred by the elements,
which hurry thee away, I will write one




LETTERS.


377


for thee; and knowing it is such a one as
thou would'st have written, I will regard it
as my Eliza's.
Honor, and happiness, and health, and
comforts of every kind, sail along with thee.
thou miost worthy of girls! I will live for
thee, and my Lydia;-be rich for the dear
children of my heart;-gain wisdom, gain
fame, and happiness, to share with them,with thee,-and her, in my old age.-Once
for all, adieu.-Preserve thy life; steadily
pursue the ends we proposed; and let nothing rob thee of those powers Heaven has
given thee for thy well-being.
What can I add more, in the agitation of
mind I am in, and within five minutes of
the last postman's bell, but recommend thee
to Heaven, and recommend myself to Heaven with thee, in the same fervent ejaculation, "That we may be happy, and meet
"again; if not in this world, in the next."
-Adieu.-I am thine, Eliza, affectionately
and everlastingly,
YORICK.
LETTER LXXXVIII.
TO THE SAME.
I WISH to God, Eliza, it was possible to
postpone the voyage to India for another
year; —for I am firmly persuaded within
my own heart, that thy husband could never
limit thee with regard to time.
I fear that Mr. B —  has exaggerated
matters.-I like not his countenance. It is
absolutely killing.-Should evil befall thee,
what will he not have to answer for? I
know not the being that will be deserving
of so much pity, or that I shall hate more.
Ite will be an outcast, alien,-ini which
case I will be a father to thy children, my
good girl!-therefore take no thought about
them.
But, Eliza, if thou art so very ill, still put
off all thoughts of returning to India this
year.-Write to your husband:-tell him
the truth of your case.-If he is the generous, humane man you describe him to be,
ne cannot but applaud your conduct. —I am
credibly informed, that his repugnance to
your living in England arises only from the
2 X


dread,. which has entered his brain, that
thou mayest run him in debt beyond thy
appointments, and that he must discharge
them.-That such a creature should be sacrificed for the paltry consideration of a few
hundreds, is too, too hard! Oh!'my child!
that I could, with propriety, indemnify him
for every charge, even to the last mite, that
thou hast been of to him! With joy would
I give him my whole subsistence;-nay,
sequester my livings, and trust the treasures
Heaven has furnished my head with, for a
future subsistence.
You owe much, I allow, to your husband,
-you owe'something to appearances, and
the opinion of the world; but, trust me, my
dear, you owe much likewise to yourself.-Return therefore from Deal, if you continue ill.-I will prescribe for you, gratis.
-You are not the first woman, by many, I
have done so for, with success.-I will send
for my wife and daughter, and they shall
carry you in pursuit of health, to Montpellier, the wells of Bancois, the Spa, or
whither thou wilt. Thou shalt-direct them,
and make parties of pleasure in what corner of the world fancy points out to thee.We shall fish upon the banks of Arno, and
lose ourselves in the sweet labyrinths of its
valleys.-Ald then thou should'st warble to
us, as I have once or twice heard thee,"I'm lost, I'm lost! "-but we should find
thee again, my Eliza.-Of a similar nature
to this was you physician's prescription:"Use gentle exercise, the pure southern air
"of France, or milder Naples, with the society of friendly, gentle beings."  Sensible man! He certainly entered into your
feelings. He knew the fallacy of medicine
to a creature whose illness has arisen from
the affliction of her mind. Time only, my
dear, I fear you must trust to, and have your
reliance on; may it give you the health so
enthusiastic a votary to the charming goddess deserves!
I honor you, Eliza, for keeping secret
some things, which, if explained, had been
a panegyric on yourself. There is a dignity
in venerable affliction which will not allow
it to appeal to the world, for pity or redress
Well have you supported that character.
my amiable, philosophic friend! And, in.
deed, I begin to think you have as many
virtues as my uncle Toby's Widow. -- 
32*




378


LETTERS.


don't mean to insinuate, hussy, that my with tidings of my fate; and that you were
opinion is no better founded than his was come to administer what consolation filial
of Mrs. Wadman; nor do I conceive it possi- affection could bestow, and to receive my
ble for any Trim to convince me it is equally partino breath and blessing.- -With that
fallacious.-I am sure, while I have my rea- you folded the shawl about my waist, and,
son, it is not.-Talking of widows:-Pray, kneeling, supplicated my attention. I awoke;
Eliza, if ever you are such, do not think of but in what a frame! Oh! my God! " But
giving yourself to some wealthy nabob,- "thou wilt number my tears, and put them
because I design to marry you myself.-My "all into thy bottle."- Dear girl!. I see
wife cannot live long,-she has sold all the thee; -thou art for ever present to my
provinces in France already;-and I know fancy, -embracing my feeble knees, and
not the woman I should like so well for her raising thy fine eyes to bid me be of comsubstitute as yourself.-'Tis true, I am fort: and, when I talk to Lydia, the words
ninety-five in constitution, and you but of Esau, as uttered by thee, perpetually
twenty-five;-rather too great a disparity ring in my ears -"Bless me even also,
this!-but what I want in youth, I will "my father "-Blessings attend thee, thou
make up in wit and good-humor.- Not child of my heart!
Swift so loved his Stella, Scarron his Main-  My bleeding is quite stopped, and I feel
tenon, or Waller his Sacharissa, as I will the principle of life strong within me; so
love and sing thee, my wife elect! All those be not alarmed, Eliza;-I know I shall do
names, eminent as they were, shall give well. I have eat my breakfast with hunger;
place to thine, Eliza. Tell me, in answer and I write to thee with a pleasure arising
to this, that you approve and honor the pro- from that prophetic impression in my imaposal, and that you would (like the Specta- gination, that "all will terminate to our
tor's mistress) have more joy in putting on "hearts' contents." Comfort thyself eteran old man's slipper, than associating with nally with this persuasion,-" That the best
the gay, the voluptuous, and the young.-  "of Beings (as thou hast sweetly expressed
-Adieu, my Simplicia!                 it) "could not, by a combination of acciYours,             "dents, produce such a chain of events,
RITRISTRAM.  "merely to be the source of misery to the
"leading person engaged'in them."-The
observation was very applicable, very good,
and very elegantly expressed. I wish my
LETTER IJXXXIX.              memory did justice to the wording of it.TO THE SAME.              Who taught you the art of writing so'sweetly, Eliza - You have absolutely exMY DEAR ELIZA,                    alted it to a science.-When I am in want


I HAVE been within the verge of the gates
of death.-I was ill the last time I wrote to
you, and apprehensive of what would be the
consequence.-My fears were but too well
founded; for, in ten minutes after I dispatched my letter, this poor, fine-spun frame
of Yorick's gave way, and I broke a vessel
in my breast, and could not stop the loss of
blood till four this morning. I have filled
all thy India handkerchiefs with it. -It
came, I think, from my heart; I fell asleep
through weakness. At six I awoke, with
the bosom of my shirt steeped ir tears. I
dreamt I was sitting under the canopy of
Indolence, and that thou camest into the
-oom with a shawl in thy hand, and told me,
my spirit had flown to thee in the Downs,


of ready cash, and ill-health will not permit my genius to exert itself, I shall print
your letters, as finished essays, "by an un"fortunate Indian Lady." The style is new;
and would almost be a sufficient recommendation for their selling well, without
merit;-but their sense, natural ease, and
spirit, is not to be equalled, I believe, in
this section of the globe; nor, I will answer for it, by any of your countrywomen
in yours.-I have shown your letter to Mrs.
B —-, and to half the literati in town.You shall not be angry with me for it, be
cause I meant to do you honor by it.-You
cannot imagine how many admirers your
epistolary productions have gained you, that
never viewed your external merits. I only




LETTERS.


379


wonder where thou could'st acquire thy thou wilt perceive no entertaining strokes
graces, thy goodness, thy accomplishments, of humor in it.-I cannot be cheerful when
-so connected! so educated! Nature has a thousand melancholy ideas surround me..
surely studied to make thee her peculiar -I have met with a loss of near fifty
care;-for thou art (and not in my eyes pounds, which I was taken in for, in an
alone) the best and fairest of all her works. extraordinary manner:- but what is that
And so this is the last letter thou art to loss in comparison of one I may experience'
receive from me; because the Earl of Chat- -Friendship is the balm and cordial of life.
ham* (I read in the papers) is got to the and, without it,'tis a heavy load not worth
Downs; an'd the wind, I find, is fair. If so, sustaining. —I am  unhappy,-thy mother
-blessed woman! take my last, last fare- and thyself at a distance from me; and what
well! —Cherish the remembrance of me; can compensate for such destitution?-For
think how I esteem, nay, how affectionately God's sake, persuade her to come and fix
I love thee, and what a price I set upon in England, for life is too short to waste in
thee! Adieu, adieu! and with my adieu, separation; and, whilst she lives in one
let me give thee one straight rule of con- country, and I in another, many people will
duct, that thou hast heard from my lips in suppose it proceeds from choice;-besides,
a thousand forms, -but I concentre it in I want thee near me, thou child and darling
one word,                              of my heart!-I am in a melancholy mood,
and my Lydia's eyes will smart with weepREVERENCE THYSELF..
ing, when I tell her the cause that now
Adieu once more, Eliza! May no an- affects me.-I am apprehensive the dear
guish of heart plant a wrinkle upon thy friend I mentioned in my last letter is going
face, till' I behold it again! May no doubt into a decline.-I was with her a few days
or misgivings disturb the serenity of thy ago, and I never beheld,a being so altered;
mind, or awaken a painful thought about -she has a- tender frame, and looks like a
thy children;-for they are Yorick's,-and drooping lily, for the roses are fled from her
Yorick is thy friend for ever!-Adieu, cheeks. -I can never see or talk to this
adieu, adieu!                           incomparable woman without bursting into
P. S. Remember,that Hope shortens all tears.-I have a thousand obligations to her,
journeys, by sweetening them;-so sing my and I owe her more than her whole sex, if
little stanza on the subject, with the devo- not all the world put together.-She has a
tion of an hymn, every morning when thou delicacy in her way of thinking that few
arisest, and thou wilt eat thy breakfast with possess. -Our conversations are of the most
more comfort for it.                   interesting nature; and she talks to me of
Blessings rest, and Hygeia go with thee! quitting this world with more composure
— AMay'st thou soon return, in peace and than others think of living in it.-I have'
affluence, to illume my night! I am, and wrote an — epitaph, of which I send thee a
shall be, the last to deplore thy loss, and copy;-'tis expressive of her modest worth;
will be the first to congratulate and hail -but may Heaven restore her;-and may
thy return.                            she live to write mine!
Fare thee well.
Columns and labor'd urns but vainly show
An idle scene of decorated woe.
The sweet companion, and the friend sincere,
LETTER XC.                   Need no mechanic help to force the tear.
In heartfelt numbers, never meant to shine,'Twill flow eternal o'er a hearse like thine
TO MISSSfTENE. *'Twill flow whilst gentle goodness has one friend,
Boind-street, April 9, 176i7.  Or kindred tempers have a tear to lend.
Tins ietter, my dear Lydia, will distress  Say all that is kind of me to thy mother,
thy good heart; for, from' the beginning, and believe me, my Lydia, that I love thee. —- -. -.. __________'. _______  most truly.-So adieu.-I am what 1 ever
* By the newspapers of the times, it appears that was and hope ever shall be,
the Earl of Chatham East Indiaman sailed from Deal  Thy affectionate Father,
April 3, 1767.                                                     L. STERNEt




380


LETTERS.


As te Mr. M —, by your description he Christian hero, ready to take hbe field
is a fat fool. I beg you will not give up against the world, the flesh, and tne Devil;
your'time to such a being.-Send me some not doubting but I should finally trample
batons pour les dents;-there are none good them all down under my feet;-and now I
here.                                  am got so near you,-within this vile stone's
cast of your house,-I feel myself drawn
into a vortex, that has turned my brain upside downwards; and, though I had purLETTER XCI.                chased a box-ticket to carry me to Miss
TO LADY P.             *******'s benefit, yet I know very well, that
was a single line directed to me to let me
Mount Coffee-house, Tuesday, 3 o'clock. know Lady-  would be alone at seven,
THERE is a strange mechanical effect and suffer me to spend the evening with her,
produced in writing a billet-doux within a she would infallibly see every thing verified
stone-cast of the Lady who engrosses the I have told her.-I dine at Mr. C-  r's,
heart and soul of an enamorato;-for this in Wigmore-street, in this neighborhood,
cause (but mostly because I am to dine in where I shall stay till seven, in hopes you
this neighborhood) have I, Tristram Shan- purpose to put me to this proof. If I hear
dy, come forth from my lodgings to a coffee- nothing by that time, shall conclude you
house, the nearest I could find to my dear are better disposed of, -and shall take a
Lady -'s house, and have called for a sorry hack, and sorrily jog on to the play.
sheet of gilt paper, to try the truth of this - Curse on the world! I know nothing
article of my creed.-Now for it.       but sorrow, except this one thing, that I
0 my dear Lady, what a dish-clout of a love you (perhaps foolishly, but)
soul hast thou made of me!-I think, by                  Most sincerely,
the bye, this is a little too familiar an in-                     L. STERNE.
troduction for so unfamiliar a situation as I
stand in with yon,-where, Heaven knows,
I am kept at a distance,-and despair of
getting one inch nearer you, with all the         LETTER XCI.
steps and windihgs I can think of to recomTO MR. AND MRS. J-.
mend myself to you. —-Would not any man 
in his senses run diametrically from you,-            Old Bond-street, April 21, 1767.
and as far as his legs would carry him, ra-  I AM sincerely affected, my dear Mr. and
ther than thus causelessly, foolishly, and Mrs. J-, by your friendly inquiry, and
fool-hardily expose himself afresh, -and the interest you are so good to take in my
afresh, where his heart and his reason-tell health. God knows I am not able to give
him h e shall be sure to come off loser, if a good account myself, having passed a bad
not totally undone.-Why should you tell night in much feverish agitation.-My phyme you would be glad to see me?-Does it sician ordered me to bed, and to keep theregive you pleasure to make me more un- in till some favorable change.-I fell ill
happy — or does it add to your triumph, the moment I got to my lodgings:-he says
that your eyes and lips have turned a man it is owing to my taking James's Powder,
into a fool, whom the rest of the town is and venturing out on so cold a day as Suncourting as a wit -I am a fool,,-the day;-but he is mistaken, for I am certain
weakest, the most ductile, the most tender whatever bears the name must have efficacy
fool,-that ever woman tried the weakness with me.-I was bled yesterday, and again
of;-and the most unsettled in my purposes to-day, and have been almost dead; but this
and resolutions of recovering my right friendly inquiry from Gerrard-street has
mind.-It is but an hour ago that I kneeled poured balm into what blood I have left.down and swore I never would come near I hope still, and (next to the sense of what
you;-and, after saying my Lord's Prayer I owe my friends) it shall be the last pleafor the sake of the close, of not being led surable sensation I will part with; —if I?nto temptation, -'out I sallied like any continue mending, it will yet be some timo




LETTERS.


381


before I shall have strength enough to get
out in a carriage.-My first visit will be a
visit of true gratitude.-I leave my kind
friends to guess where.-A thousand blessings go along with.this; and may Heaven
preserve you both!-Adieu, my dear Sir,
and dear Lady.
I am your ever obliged, 
L. STERNE.


LETTER XCIII.
TO IGNATIUS SANCHO.
Bond-street, Saturday, [April 25, 1767.]
I WAS very sorry, my good Sancho, that
1 Was not at home, to return my complinlnts by you for the great courtesy of the
Duitke of M —g-'s family to me, in honoring lily list of subscribers with their names;
-for which I bear them all thanks.-But
you have something to add, Sancho, to
what I owe your good-will also on this account, and' that is to send me the subscription-money, which I find a necessity of dunning my best friends for before I leave
town,-to avoid the perplexities of both
keeping pecuniary accounts (for which I
have very slender talents). and collecting
them (for which I have neither strength of
body or mind;) and so, good Sancho, dun
the Duke of M-, the Duchess of M-,
and Lord M-, for their subscriptions;
and lay the sin, and money with it too, at
my door.-I wish so good a family every
blessing they merit, along with my humblest
compliments. You know, Sancho, that I
am your friend and well-wisher,
L. STERNE.
P. S. I leave town on Friday morning,
-and should on Thursday, but that I stay
to dine with Lord and Lady S.
LETTER XCIV.
TO THE EARL OF S-.
Old Bond-street. May 1, 1767.
MY LORD,
I WAS yesterday taking leave of all the
town, with an intention of leaving it this
day: but I am detained by the kindness of
Lord and Lady S —, who have made a
party to dine and sup, on my account.-I


am impatient to set out for my solitude, for
there the mind gains strength, and learns
to lean upon herself.-In the world it seeks
or accepts of a few treacherous supports;
-the feigned compassion of one,-the flattery of a second,-the civilities of a third,
— the friendship of a fourth,-they all deceive, and bring the mind back to where
mine is retreating, to retirement, reflection,
and books. My departure is fixed for tomorrow morning; but I could not think /?f
quitting a place where I have received sult:h
numberless and unmerited civilities froin
your Lordship, without returning my most
grateful thanks, as well as my hearty acknowledgments for your friendly inquiry
fiom Bath. Illness, my Lord, has occasioned
my silence. -Death knocked at my door,
but I would not admit him;-the call was
both unexpected and unpleasant;-and I am
seriously worn down to a shadow,   and
still very weak:-but, weak as I am, I have
as whimsical a story to tell you as ever
befell one of my family; — Shandy's nose,
his name, his sash-window, are fools to it;
— it will serve at least to amuse you.-The
injury I did myself last month in catching
cold upon James's powder,-fell, you must
know, upon the worst part it could,-the
most painful and most dangerous of any in
the human body. It was on this crisis I
called in an able surgeon, and with him an
able physician (both my friends) to inspect
my disaster. -'Tis a venereal case, cried
my two scientific friends.-'Tis impossible,
however, to be that, replied I;-for I have
had no commerce whatever with the sex,not even with my wife, added I, these fifteen years.-You are, however, my good
friend, said the surgeon, or there is no such
case in the world.-What the Devil, said Iy
without knowing woman? - We will not
reason about it, said the physician, but you
must undergo a course of mercury.-I will
lose my life first, said I: and trust to nature,
to time, or, at the worst, to death.-So I
put an end, with some' indignation, to the
conference,-and determined to bear all the
torments I underwent, and ten times more,
rather than submit to'be treated like a
sinner, in a point where I had acted like a
saint.-Now as the father of mischief would
have it, who has no pleasure like that of
dishonoring the righteous, it so fell out that




382                              LET1
from the moment I dismissed my doctors,
my pains began to rage with a violence not
to be expressed, or supported. Every hour
became more intolerable.-I was got to bed,
cried out, and raved the whole night, and
was got up so near dead, that my friends
insisted upon my sending again for my physician and surgeon. I told them, upon the
word of a man of honor, they were both
mistaken as to my case;-but, though they
had reasoned wrong, they might act right:
but that, sharp as my sufferings were, I felt
them not so sharp as the imputation which
a venereal treatment of my case laid me
under.-They answered, that these taints
of the blood lie dormant twenty years; but
they would not reason with me in a point
wherein I was so delicate, but would do all
the offices for which they were called in,
namely to put an end to my torment, which
otherwise would put an end to me; —and so
I have been compelled to surrender myself:
-and thus, my dear Lord, has your poor
friend, with all his sensibilities, been suffering the chastisement of the grossest sensualist!-Was it not as ridiculous an embarrassment as ever Yorick's spirit was involved in — Nothing but the purest-conscience of innocence could have tempted
me to write this story to my wife, which,
by the bye, would make no bad anecdote in
Tristram Shandy's Life.-I have mentioned
it in my journal to Mrs. —. In some respects, there is no difference between my
wife and herself:-when they fare alike,
neither can reasonably complain.-I have
just received letters from France, with some
hints that Mrs. Sterne and my Lydia are
coming to England, to pay me a visit.-If
your time is not better employed, Yorick
flatters himself he shall receive a letter
from your Lordship, en attendant.-I am,
with the greatest regard, my Lord,
Your Lordship's
Most faithful humble servant,
L. STERNE.
LETTER XCV.
TO J- D-N, ESQ.
Old Bond-street, Friday morning.
I WAS foing, my dear D-n, to bed before I received yo ir kind inquiry; and now


[ERS.


my chaise stands at my door, to take and
convey this poor body to its legal settlement.
-I am ill, very ill;-I languish most affectingly. -I am sick both soul and body.-It
is a cordial to me to hear it is different with
you; -no man interests himself more in
your happiness; and I am glad you are in so
fair a road to it:-enjoy it long, my D  -;
whilst I-no matter what,-but my feelings
are too nice for the world I live in:-things
will mend.-I dined yesterday with Lord
and Lady S-: we talked much of you
and your goings on; for every one knows
why Sunbury Hill is so pleasant a situation 
-You rogue! you' have lock'd up my boots,
-and I go bootless home:- and I fear I
shall go bootless all my life.-Adieu, gentlest and best of souls,-adieu.
I am yours, most affectionately,
L. STERNE.
LETTER XCVI.
TO J   H —-—, ESQ.
Newark, Monday,
Ten o'clock in the morn
MY DEAR CoUSIN,
I HAVE got conveyed thus far, like a bale
of cadaverous goods, consigned to Pluto and
company,-lying in the bottom of my chaise
most of the route, upon a large pillow, which
I had the prevoyance to purchase before I
set out.-I am worn out;-but press on to
Barnby Moor to-night, and, if possible, to
York the next. -I know not what is the
matter'with me, - but some derangement
presses hard upon this machine: -still, I
think, it will not be overset this bout.-My
love to G. We shall all meet from the
east, and from the south, and (as at the last)
be happy together. My kind respects to a
few.-I am, dear H  -,
Truly yours,
L. STERNE.


LETTER XCVII.
TO A. L-E, ESQ.
Coxwould, June 7, 1767.
DEAR L —-,
I HAD not been many days at this peaceful cottage before your letter greeted me
with the seal of friendship: and most cor



LETTERS.


383


dially do I thank you for so kind a proof of dian, and has this post sent a letter of inyour good-will.  I was truly anxious to quiries after Yorick and his Bramin. He
hear of the recovery of my sentimental is a good soul, and interests himself much
friend,-but I would not write to inquire in our fate.-I cannot forgive you, L-e,
after her, unless I could have sent her the for your folly in saying you intend to get
testimony without the tax; even how d'yes introduced to the —.  I despise them;
to invalids, or those that have lately been and I shall hold your understanding much
so, either call to mind what'is past or what cheaper than I now do, if you persist in a
may return; at least I find it so. I am as resolution so unworthy of you.-I suppose
happy as a prince, at Coxwould; and I wish Mrs. 3 - telling you they were sensiblej
you could see inl how princely a manner I is the groundwork you go upon. Bylive:'tis a land of plenty. I sit down alone they are not clever; though what is comto venison, fish, and wild fowl, or a couple monly called wit, may pass for literature on
of fowls or ducks, with curds, and straw- the other side of Temple-Bar.-You say
berries, and cream, and all the simple Mrs. J-      thinks them  amiable: -she
plenty which a rich valley (under Hamil- judges too favorably: but I have put a stop
ton Hills) can produce; with a clean cloth to her intentions of visiting them. They
on my table, and a bottle of wine on my are bitter enemies of mine; and I am even
right hand to drink your health. I have a with them. La Branine assured me they
hundred hens and chickens about my yard, used their endeavors with her to break off
and not a parishioner catches a hare, or a her friendship with me, for reasons I will
rabbit, or a trout, but he brings it as an not write, but tell you.-I said enough of
offering to me. If solitude would cure a them before she left England; and though
love-sick heart, I would give you an invi- she yielded to me in every other point, yet
tation; but absence and time lessen no in this she obstinately persisted.-Strange
attachment which virtue inspires. I am in infatuation!-but I think I have effected
high spirits; care never enters this cottage. my purpose by a falsity, which Yorick's
-1 take the air every day in my post-chaise, friendship to the Bramine can only justify.
with two long-tailed horses,-they turn out -I wrote her word that the most amiable
good ones; and as to myself, I think I am of women reiterated my request, that she
better upon the whole for the medicines would not write to them. I said, too, she
and regimen I submitted to in town. —May had concealed many things for the sake of'
you, dear L —, want neither the one nor her peace of mind, when, in fact, L —,
the other!                             this was merely a child of my own brain,
Yours, truly,         made Mrs. J-'s by adoption, to enforce'     - L. STERNE.   the argument I had before urged so strongly.
-Do not mention this circumstance to Mrs.
-  _  J -;'twould displease her; and I had
no design in it but for the Bramine to be a
friend to herself.-I ought now to be busy
from sun-rise to sun-set, for I have a book
TO THE SAME.              to write,-a wife to receive,-an estate to
sell,-a parish to superintend,-and, what
Coxwoald, Jne 30, 1767.is worst of all, a disquieted heart to reason
I AM in still better health, my dear L-e. with: these are continual calls upon me.than when I wrote last to you, owing I be- I have received half a dozen letters to press
lieve to my riding out every day with my me to join my friends at Scarborough, but
friend H-, whose castle lies near the I am at present deaf to them all. I perhaps
sea; and there is a beach as even as a may pass a few days there something later
mirror, of five miles in length, before it, in the season, not at present;-and so, dear
where we daily run races in our chaises, L-, adieu.
with one wheel in the sea, and the other       I am most cordially yours,
on land. D —    has obtained his fair In-                         L. STERNF.




384


LETTERS.


LETTER XCIX.
TO IGNATIUS SANCHO.
Coxwould, June 30, 1767.
I MUST acknowledge the courtesy of my
good friend Sancho's letter, were I ten
times busier than I am; and must thank
him too for the many expressions of his
good-will and good opinion:-'tis all affectation to say a man is not gratified with
being praised; we only want it to be sincere: and then it will be taken, Sancho, as
kindly as yours. I left town very poorly,
and with an idea I was taking leave of it
for ever; but good air, a quiet retreat, and
quiet reflections along with it, with an ass
to milk, and another to ride upon (if I choose
it), all together do wonders. I shall live
this year. at least, I hope, be it but to give
the world, before I quit it, as good impressions of me, as you have, Sancho. I mWould
only covenant for just so much health and
spirits as are sufficient to carry my pen
through the task I have set it this summer.
But I am. a resigned being, Sancho, and
take health and sickness as I do light and
darkness, or the vicissitudes of seasons;
that is, just as it pleases God to send them,
and accommodate myself to their periodical
returns as well as I can; only taking care,
whatever befalls me in this silly world, not
to lose my temper at it. This Ii believe,
friend Sancho, to be the truest philosophy;
for this we must be indebted to ourselves,
but not to our fortunes. Farewell.-I hope
you will not forget your custom of giving
me a call at my lodgings next Winter. In
the mean time, I am, very cordially,
My honest friend Sancho,
Yours,
L. STERNE.
LETTER C.
TO MR. AND MRS. J3
Coxwould, July 6, 1767.
IT is with as. much true gratitude as ever
heart felt, that I sit down to thank my dear
friends, Mr. and Mrs. J —-, for the continuation of their nattention to me; but for this
last instance of their humanity and polite

ness to me, I must ever be their debtor. X
never can thank you enough, my dear friends,
and yet I thank you from my soul; and for
the single day's happiness your goodness
would have sent me, I wish I could send
you back thousands: —I cannot, but they
will come of themselves; and so God bless
you.-I have had twenty times my pen in
my hand since I came down; to write a letter to you both in Gerrard-street; but I am a
shy kind of a.soul at the bottom, and have a
jealousy about troubling my friends,-especially about myself. I am now got perfectly
well; but was, a month after my arrival. in
the country, in but a poor state: my body
has got the start, and is at present more at
ease than my mind;-but this world is a
school of trials, and so Heaven's will be
done!-I hope that you have enjoyed all
that I have wanted; and to complete your
joy, that your little lady flourishes like a
vine at your table; to which I hope to see
her preferred by next winter.-I am now
beginning to be truly busy at my Sentimental Journey;-the pains and sorrows of
this life having retarded its progress; but-I
shall make up my lee-way, and overtake
every body in a very short time.
What can I send you that Yorkshire produces? Tell me; I want to be of use to
you, for I am, my dear friends, with the
truest value and esteem,
Your ever obliged
L. STERNE.


LETTER CI.
TO MR. PANCHAUD, AT PARIS.
York, July 20, 1767.
MY DEAR PANCHAUD,
BE so kind as to forward what letters are
arrived for Mrs. Sterne, at your office, by
to-day's post, or the next; and she will receive them before she quits Avignon, for
England. She wants to lay out a little
money in an annuity for her daughter:advise her to get her life insured in London,
lest my Lydia should die before her.-If
there are any packets, send them with the
ninth volume* of Shandy; which she has


* Alluding to the first edition.




LETT
failed-of gettingr. She says, she has drawn
for fifty Louis. When she leaves Paris,
send by her my account.-Have you got me
any French subscriptions? or subscriptions
in France — Present my kindest service to
Miss P. I know, her politeness and goodnature will incline her to give Mrs. J. her
advice about what she may venture to bring
over. —I hope every thing goes on well,
though never half so well as I wish.-God
prosper you, my dear friend!-Believe me
most warmly
Yours,
L. STERNE.
The sooner you send me the gold snuffbox, the better:-'tis a present from my
best friend.


ERS.                             385
dear girl are coming to pay me a visit for a
few months:-I wish I may prevail with
them to tarry longer.-You must permit
me, dear Mrs. J., to make my Lydia known
to you, if I can prevail, with my wife to
come and spend a little time in LQndon, as
she returns to France. I expect a small
parcel:- may I truble you, before you
write next, to send to my lodgings to ask if
there is any thing directed to me that you
can inclose under cover.-I have but one
excuse for this freedom, which I am prompted to use, from a persuasion that it is doing
you pleasure to give you an opportunity of
doing an obliging thing;-and, as to myself;
I rest satisfied; for'tis only scoring up another debt of thanks to the millions I owe
you both already.-Receive a thousand and
a thousand thanks! yes, and with them ten
thousand friendly wishes for all you wish
in this world!-May my friend Mr. J. con-.'...  1 -......1.-'.1..  k~4-T- - I  A-c  adz..,.


LETTER CII.


TO MR. AND MRS. J.
TO MR. AND MR'S.              ile.  mu lesseu wliui gouu jeaiui' anu may ils
good Lady get perfectly well! there being
Coxwould, Aug. 2,1767. no woman's health or comfort I so ardently
MY dear friends, Mr. and Mrs. J-, are pray for.-Adieu, my dear friends.-Beinfinitely kind to me, in sending now and lieve me most truly and faithfully yours,
then a letter to inquire after me; and to                          L. STERNE.
acquaint me how they are.-You cannot      P. S. In Eliza's last letter, dated from
conceive, my dear Lady, how truly I bear a St. Jago, she tells me, as she does you,
part in your illness.-I wish Mr. J- would that she is extremely ill.- God protect
carry you to the south of France, in pur- her!- By this time surely she has set
suit of health:-but why need I wish it, foot upon dry land at Madras.-I heartily
when I know. his affection will make him wish her well; and if Yorick was with her,
lo that and ten times as much, to prevent he would tell her so;-but he is cut off from
a return of those symptoms which alarmed this by bodily absence:-I am present with
him so much in the spring?-Your polite- her in spirit, however-but what is that,
ness and humanity are always contriving to you will say.
treat me agreeably; and what you promise
next winter, will be perfectly so:-but you
must get well; and your little dear girl
must be of the party, with her parents and          LETTER CII.
friends, to give it a relish.-I am sure you
show no partiality but what is natural and 
praisew6rthy, in behalf of your daughter;                 Coxwould, August 11. 1767.
but I wonder my friends will not find her   MY DEAR H.
a play-fellow: and I both hope and advise  I AM glad all has passed with so much
them not to venture along, through this amity, inter te et filium  Marcun tuum,
warfare of life, without two strings at least and that Madame has found grace in thy
to their bow.-I had letters from France by sight.-All is well that ends well;-and so
last night's post; by which (by some fatality) much for moralizing upon it. I wish you
I find not one of my letters has reached could or would take up your parable, ana
Mrs. Sterne. This gives me concern, as it prophesy as much good concerning me and
wears the aspect of unkindness, which she my affairs.-Not one of my letters has got
by no means merits from me.-My wife and to Mrs. Sterne since the notification of ne2 Y                                    33




386


LETTERS.


intentions; which has a pitiful air on my
side, though I have wrote her six or seven.
-I imagine she will be here the latter end
of September; though I have no date for it
but her impatience; —which, having suffered by my supposed silence, I am persuaded
will make her fear the worst;-if that is the
case, she will fly to England:-a most natural conclusion.-You did well to discontinue
all commerce with James's powders,-as
you are so well; rejoice, therefore, and let
your heart be merry; mine ought upon the
same score;-for I never have been so well
since I left college; and should be a marvellous happy man, but for'some reflections
which bow down my spirits; but if I live
but even three or four years, I will acquit
myself with honor; and, no matter, we will
talk this over when we meet.-If all ends
as temperately as with you, and that I find
grace, &c. &c., I will come and sing Te
Deum, or drink poculum elevatum, or do
any thing with you in the world.-I should
depend upon G-'s critic upon my head; as
much as Moliere's old woman upon his
comedies. When you do not want her society, let it be carried into your bed-chamher to flay her, or clap it upon her bum, -
to-, and give her my blessing' as you
do it.
My postilion has set me aground for a week,
by one of my pistols bursting in his hand;
which he taking for granted to be quite shot
off,-he instantly fell upon his knees, and
said (Our Father, which art in Heaven, hallowed be thy Name); at which like a good
Christian he stopped, not remembering any
more of it. The affair was not so bad as he
at first thought; for it has only bursten two
of his fingers, he says.-I long to return to
you; but I sit here alone as solitary and sad
as a Tom-cat; which, by the bye, is all the
company I keep: - he follows me from
the parlor to the kitchen, into the garden, and every place.  I wish I had a
dog;-my daughter will bring me one;and so God be about you, and strengthen
your faith.-I am affectionately, dear cousin, yours,
L. STERNE.
My service to the C —s, though they
are from home; and to Panty.


LETTER CIV.
TO MR. AND MRS. J.
Coxwould, Aug. 13. 1767.
MY DEAR FRIENDS,
I BUT copy your great civility to me in
writing you word, that I have this moment
received another letter, wrote eighteen
days after the date of the last, from St.
Jago.-If our poor friend could have wrote
another letter to England, you would, in
course, have had it; but, I fear, from the
circumstances of great hurry and bodily
disorder in which she was when she dispatched this, she might not have time.-In
case it has so fallen out, I send you the contents of what I have received:-and that
is-a melancholy history of herself and sufferings since they left St. Jago;-continual
and most violent rheumatism all the time;
-a fever, brought on with fits, and attended
with delirium, and every terrifying symptom:-the recovery from this left her low
and emaciated to a skeleton.-I give you
the pain of this detail with a bleeding heart,
knowing how much, at the same time, it
will affect yours.-The three or four last,days of our journal leave us with hopes she
will do well at last, for she is more cheerful,-and seems to be getting into better
spirits; and health will follow in course,
They have crossed the Line:-are much
becalmed; by which, with other delays, she
fears they will lose their passage to Madras,-and be some months sooner for it at
Bombay.-Heaven protect her! for she suffers much, and with uncommon fortitude.She writes much to me aboui her dear
friend Mrs. J —, in her last packet.-In
truth, my good Lady, she loves and honors
you from her heart; but, if she did not, I
should not esteem her, or wish her so well
as I do. —Adieu, my dear friends:-you
have few in the world more truly and cordially


You


rs,
L. STERNE.


P. S. I have just received, as a present
from a, man I shallever love, a most elegant
gold snuff-box, fabricated for me at Paris;
-'tis not the first pledge I have received




LETTERS.


387


of his friendship.-May I presume to inclose you a letter of chit-chat which I shall
write to Eliza. I know you will write
yourself; and my letter may have the honor
t0 chaperon yours to India: -they will
neither of them be the worse received for
going together in company; but I fear they
will get late in the year to their destined
port, as they go first to Bengal.
LETTER CV.
TO MISS STERNE.




lively French dog shall have his place on
the other side of my fire;-but if he is as
devilish as-when I last saw him, I must tutor him; for I will not have my cat abused.
-In short, I will have nothing devilish
about me:-a combustion will spoil a sentimental thought.
Another thing I must desire:-do not be
alarmed;-'tis to throw all your rouge-pots
into the Sorgue before you set out.-I will
have no rouge put on in England;-and do
not bewail them as -   -  did her silver
seringue, or glister-equipage, which she
lost in a certain river; but take a wise resolution of doing without rouge. —I have
been three days ago bad again, with a spitbinrI  Uk  UIUUU.*'c t hat b lirifUiil^r1 4  U:1UL.,


ConxwonlldAg.A. 24 1767.


___..,.. —-o.-. -,...  blllg   U1 UJIUUU.-' —riLIU   Llltt   Ull ulig111-   U Ltc
I AM truly surprised, my dear Lydia, ****  came and drew my curtains, and
that mv last letter has not reached thy mo- with a voice like a trumpet, halloo'd in my
ther, and thyself;-it looks most unkind on ear,-" Z —ds, what a fine kettle of fish
my part, after your having wrote me word "have you brought yourself to, Mr. S  -!"
of your mother's intention of coming to In a faint voice, I bade him leave me; for
England, that she has not received my let- comfort sure was never administered in so
- ter to welcome you both; —and though in rough a manner.-Tell your mother, I hope
that I said I wished you would defer your she will purchase what either of you may
journey till March (for before that time I want at Paris,-'tis an occasion not to be
should have published my sentimental work, lost,-so write to me from Paris, that I
and should be in town to receive you)- may come and meet you in my post-chaise,
yet I will show you more real politesses with my long-tailed horses;-and the mothan any you have met with in France, as ment you have both put your feet in it, call
mine will come warm from the heart.-I it hereafter yours. -Adieu, dear Lydia.
am sorry you are not here at the races; Believe me, what I ever shall'be,
but les fetes champetres of the Marquis de      Your affectionate father,
Sade have made you amends.-I know                                L. STERNE.
B-      very well; and he is what in France  I think I shall not write to Avignon any
would-be called Admirable,-that would be more; but you will find one for you at
blut so so here.-You are right;-he studies Paris.-Once more, adieu.
Nature more than any, or rather most of
the French comedians.-If the Empress of 
Russia pays him and his wife a pension of
twenty thousand livres -a year, I think he        LETTER CVI.
is very well off.-The folly of staying till
after twelve for supper,-that you two ex-            TO SIR W.
communicated beings might have meat!-                            Sept. 19, Y6?
"his conscience would not let it be served  MY' DEAR SIR,
"before."  Surely the Marquis thought   You are perhaps the drollest being in
you both, being English, could not be satis- the universe.-Why do you banter me so
fled without it.-I would have given, not about what I wrote to you — Though I
my gown and cassock (for I have but one) told you, every morning I jump'd into Vebut my topaz ring, to harve-seen the petits nus's lap (meaning thereby the sea) was
malztres et mattresses go to mass, after you to infer from that, that I leaped into
having spent the night in dancing.-As to the ladies' beds afterwards 1- The boiv
my pleasures, they are few in compass.-  guides you,-the mind me.-I have wront
My poor cat sits purring beside me. Your the most whimsical letter to a Lady tha





388


LETTERS.


was ever read, and talked of body and soul
too.-I said she had made me vain, by saying she was mine more than ever woman
was; but she is not the Lady of Bond-street;
nor -   square: nor the Lady who supp'd
with me, in Bond-street, on scollop'd oysters, and other such things;-nor did she
ever go tete-d-tete with me to Salt Hill.Enough of such nonsense; the past is over,
and I can justify myself unto myself.-Can
you do as much -No, faith!-" You can
" feel!" Ay, so can my cat, when he hears
a female caterwauling on the house-top;but caterwauling disgusts me. I had rather raise a gentle flame, than have a different one raised in me. Now, I take Heaven to witness, after all this badinage, my
heart is innocent;-and the sporting of my
pen is equal, just equal, to what I did in
boyish days, when I got astride of a stick,
and gallop'd away.-The truth is this,That my pen governs me;-not me my
pen.-You are much to blame if you dig
for marl, unless you are sure of it. I was
once such a puppy myself, as to pare, and
burn, and had my labor for my pains, and
two hundred pounds out of my pocket.
Curse on farming (said I) I will try if the
pen will not succeed better than the spade.
The following up of that affair (I mean
farming) made me lose my temper: and a
cart-load of turnips was (I thought) very
dear at two hundred pounds.
In all your operations, may your own
good sense guide you! Bought experience
s the Devil.-Adieu, adieu.-Believe me
Yours, most truly,
L. STERNE.
LETTER CVII.
TO THE SAME.
Coxwould, Sept. 27, 1767.
DEAR SIR,
You are arrived at Scarborough when all
tle world has left it; but you are an unaccountable being; and so there is nothing
more to he said on the matter.-You wish
me to come to Scarborough, and join you
to read a work that is not yet finished; besides, I have other things in my head.-My
Uwite will be here in three or four days, and


I must not be found straying in the wilderness; but I have been there. As for meeting you at Bluit's, with all my heart.-I
will laugh and drink my barley-water with
you. As soon as I have; greeted my wife
and daughter, and hired them a house at
York, I shall go to London; where you
generally are in spring: -and then my
Sentimental Journey will, I dare say, convince you that my feelings are from the
heart; and that that heart is not of the
worst of'moulds.-Praised be God for my
sensibility! Though it has often made me
wretched, yet I would not exchange it for
all the pleasures the grossest sensualist
ever felt. Write to me the day you will
be at York;-'tis ten to one but I may introduce you to my wife and daughter. Believe me, my good Sir,
Ever yours,
L. STERNE.


LETTER CVIII.
TO MR. PANCHAUD, AT PARIS.
York, Oct. 1, 1767
DEAR SIR,
I HAVE ordered my friend Becket to advance, for two months, your account, which
my wife this day delivered: she is in raptures with all your civilities.-This is to
give you notice to draw upon your correspondent;-afid. Becket will deduct out of
my publication. To morrow morning I repair with her to Coxwould; and my Lydia
seems transported with the sight of me.Nature, dear P-, breathes in all her
composition; and, except a little vivacity,
which is a fault in the world we live in, I
am fully content with her mother's care of
her.-Pardon this digression from business;
-but'tis natural. to speak of those we love.
As to the subscriptions which your friendship has procured me, I must have them to
incorporate with my lists, which are to be
prefix'd to the first volume.-My wife and
daughter join in millions of thanks:-they
will leave me the, first of, December.Adieu, adieu.-Believe me
Yours, most truly,
L. STERNE




LETTERS.


389


LETTER CIX.
TO MR. AND MRS. J.
Coxwould, Oct. 3, 1767.
I HAVE suffered under a strong desire, for
above this fortnight, to send a letter of inquiries after the health and the well-being of
my dear friends, Mr. and Mrs. J-; and
I do assure you both,'twas merely owing to
a little modesty in my temper, not to make
my good-will troublesome, where I have so
much, and to those I never think of but
with ideas of sensibility and obligation,
that I have refrain'd.-Good God i to think
I could be in town, and not go, the first
step I made, to Gerrard-street — My mind
and body must be at sad variance with' each
other, should it ever fall out that it is not
both the first and last place also whereIl shall
betake myself, were it only to say, " God
"bless you!"-May you have every blessing he can send you!'tis.a part of my
litany; where you will always have a place
whilst I have a tongue to repeat it. And
so you heard I had left Scarborough; which
you would no more credit, than the reasons
assign'd for it:-I thank you for it kindly:
though you have not told me what they
were; being a shrewd divine, I think I can'guess.-I was ten days at Scarborough, in
September; and was hospitably entertained
by one of the best of our bishops; who, as
he kept house there, press'd me to be with
him; and his household consisted of a gentleman and two ladies;-which, with the
good bishop and myself, made so good a
party, that we kept much to'ourselves. —I
made in this time a connexion of great
friendship with my mitred host; who would
gladly have taken me with him back to
Ireland.-However, we all left Scarborough
together, and lay fifteen miles off, where
we kindly parted.-Nodw it was supposed
(and I have since heard) that I e'en went
on with the party to London; and tll;s I
suppose, was the reason assign'd for my
being there.-I dare say, Charity, would
add a little to the account, and give out
that'twas on the score of one, and perhaps
both of the ladies, -and I will excuse
Charity on that head, for a heart disengaged,
could not well have done better.-I' have


been hard writing ever since;-and hope,
by Christmas, I shall be able to give a
gentle rap at your door,-and tell ou how
M y
happy I am to see my two good friends. —-
assure you I spur.on my Pegasus more violently upon that account, and am now determined not to draw bit till I have finished
this Sentimental Journey; whichI hope
to lay at your feet, as a small (but very
honest)- testimony of the constant truth with
which I am,
My dear friends,
Your ever obliged
And grateful
L. STERNE.
P. S. My wife and daughter arrived here'
last night from France.-My girl has, return'd an elegant, accomplished little slut.
-My wife,-but I hate to praise my- wife
-_'tis'as much as decency Will allow, to
raise my daughter. I suppose they win
P
return next summer to Prance. -They
leave.) me in' a month, to reside at York for
the winter;-and I stay at Coxwould till
the first of January.
LETTER CX.
TO MRS. F-.
Coxwould, Friday
DEAR MADAM,
I RE, TURN you a thousand thanks for your
obliging. inquiry after, me. —I got downo last
summer, very much worn out'-and much
-worse at the end of''my' journey.-I wagforced to call at his - Grace's house (the
Arc'hbisho'of York) to refresh myself a
couple of days upon the road near Doncaster.-Since I'got home to quietness, and
temperance, and good books, and good hours,
I have mended; and am -now very stout;
and, in a fortnight's time, shall perhaps be
as well as you yourself could Wish me. I
have the pleasure to acquaint you that my
wife'and daughter are arrived from France.
-1 shall be in town to greet my friends by
the first of January.-Adieu, dear,, Madam.
-Believe me
Yours, sincerely,
L. STERN14,'


been hard writing ever since;-and hope,
by Christmas, I shall be able to give a
gentle rap at your door,-and tell you how
happy I am to see my two good friends. —~
assure you I spur on my Pegasus more violently upon that account, and am now determined not to draw bit till I have finished
this Sentimental Journey;-which.I hope
to lay at your feet, as a small (but very
honest)- testimony of the constant truth with
which I am,
My dear friends,
Your ever obliged
And grateful
L. STERNE.
P. S. My wife and daughter arrived here
last night from France.-My girl has' return'd an elegant, accomplished little slut.
-My wife,-but I hate to praise my wife:
—'tis as much as decency will allow, to
praise my daughter. I suppose they win
return next summer to France. -They
leave) me in a month, to reside at York for
the winter;-and I stay at Coxwould till
the first of January.
LETTER CX.
TO MRS. F-.
Coxwould, Friday
DEAR MADAM,
I RETURN you a thousand thanks for your
obliging inquiry after me. —I got down last
summer, very much worn out,-and much
worse at the end of my journey.-I was'
forced to call at his -Grace's house (the
Archbishop' of York) to refresh myself a
couple of days upon the road near Doncaster.-Since I'got home to quietness, and
temperance, and good books, and good hours,
I have mended; and am now very stout;and, in a fortnight's time, shall perhaps be
as well as you yourself could wish me.-I
have the pleasure to acquaint you that my
wife and daughter are arrived from France.
-I shall be in town to greet my friends by
the first of January.-Adieu, dear, Madam.
-Believe me
Yours, sincerely,
L. STERN1I




33*




39.0                              LETTERS.
LETTER CXI.                 creature,- affectionate, and most elegant
in body and mind;-she is all Heaven could
TO MRS. H.               give me in a daughter;-but, like other
Coxuld October   blessings, not given,'but lent; for her
Coxwould, October 12, 1767.
mother loves France;-and this dear part
EVER since my dear H. wrote me word of,me must be torn from my arms to follow
she was mine more than ever woman was, her mother, who seems inclined to establish
I have been racking my memory to inform her in France, where she has had many
me where it was that you,and I had that af- advantageous offers.-Do not smile at my
fair together.-People think that I have had weakness, when I say I don't wonder at it,
many (some in body, some in mind); but as for she is as accomplished. a slut as France
I told you before, you have had me more can produce.-You shall excuse all this;than any woman; therefore, you must have if you won't, I desire Mr. J-   to be my
had me, H —, both in mind and in body.-  advocate;-but I know I don't want one.Now I cannot recollect where it was, nor With what pleasure shall I embrace your
exactly when:-it could not be the Lady in dear little pledge, -whom I hope to see
Bond-street, or Grosvenor-street, or --- every hour increasing in stature, and in
Square, or Pall-mall.-We shall make it favor, both with God and man!-I kiss 11l
out, H-, when we meet; I emphatically your hands with a most devout and friendly
long for it;'tis no matter; I cannot now heart.-No man can wish you more good
stand writing to you to-day:-I will make than your meagre friend does; few  so
it up next post,-for dinner is upon table; much;-for I am, with infinite cordiality,
and if I make Lord F —  stay, he will not gratitude, and honest affection,
frank this.-How do you do? Which parts               My dear Mrs. J ——,
of Tristram do you like best?-God bless                  Your ever faithful
you. -                                                               L. STERNE.
Yours                       P. S. My Sentimental Journey will
L. STERNE.
please Mrs. S-    and my Lydia.-I can
answer for those two. It is a subject which
works well, and suits the frame of mind I
have been in for some time past.-I told
LETTER CXII.        yyou my design in it was to teach us to loveTO MR AND MRS         the world and'our fellow-creatures better
TO MR. AND MRS. J.
than we do:- so it runs most upon those
Coxwould, November 12,1767. gentler passions and affections, which aid
FORGIVE me, dear Mrs. J-, if I am so much to it. Adieu; and. may you and
troublesome in writing something betwixt my worthy friend Mr. J    continue exa letter and a card, to inquire after you and amples of the doctrine I teach!
my good friend Mr. J-, whom'tis an
age since I have heard a syllable of.-I
think so, however; and never more felt the
want of a house I esteem so much, as I do
now, when I can hear tidings of it so sel-         LETTER CXIII.
dom;-and have nothing to recompense my                TO MRS H
desire of seeing its kind possessors, but the
hopes before me of doing' it by Christmas.                  Coxwould, Nov. 15,1767.
— I long sadly to see you,-and my friend  Now be a good dear woman, my H-,
Mr. J —. I am still at Coxwould;-my and execute these commissions well;-and
wife and girl * here.-She is a dear good when I see you, I will give you a kiss:there's for you!-But I have something else
for you, which I am fabricating at a great
Mrs. Medalle thinks an apology may be necessary rate, and that'is my Sentimental Journey,
for publishing this letter; —the best she can offer is,- which shall makeyou cry as much as it has
That it was written by a fond parent (whose com,
0mendation she is proud of) to a very sincere friend. affected me,-or I will give up the business




LETTERS.


of sentimental writing,-and write to the
body;-that is, H —, what I am doing in
writing to you:-but you are a good body,
which is worth half a score mean souls.
I am yours, &c.
L. SHANDY.
LETTER CXIV.
TO A. L —E, ESQ.
Coxwould, Nov. 19, 1767.
You make yourself unhappy, dear L-,
by imaginary ills,-which you might shun,
instead of putting yourself in the way of.
-Would not any man in his senses fly from
the object he adores, and not waste his
time and his health in increasing his misery
by so vain a pursuit - The idol of your
heart is one of ten thousand. — The Duke
of -   has long sighed in vain:-and can
you suppose a woman will listen to you,
that is proof against titles, stars, and red
ribands'?-Her heart (believe me, L-  e)
will not be taken by fine men, or fine
speeches;-if it should ever feel a preference, it will choose an object for itself; and
it must be a singular character that can
make an impression on such a being:-she
has a Platonic way of thinking, and knows
love only by name.-The natural reserve
of her character, which you complain of,
proceeds not from pride, but from a superiority of understanding which makes her despise every man that turns himselfinto. a fool.
-Take my advice, and pay your addresses
to Miss: she esteems you; and time
will wear off an attachment which has
taken so deep a root in your heart.-I pity
you from my soul;-but we are all born
with passions which ebb and flow (else they
would play the Devil with us) to different
objects;-and the best advice I can give
you, L —  e, is to turn the tide of yours
another way.-I know not whether I shall
write again while I stay at Coxwould.-I
am in earnest at my sentimental work,and intend being in town soon after Christmas. In the mean time, adieu. -Let me
hear from you, and believe me, dear L.,
Yours, &c.
L. STERNE.




391
LETTER CXV.
TO THE EARL OF -.
Coxwould, November 28, 176'


MY LORD,'TIS with the greatest pleasure I take
my pen to thank your Lordship for your
letter of inquiry about Yorick;-he has
worn out both his spirits and body with the
Sentimental Journey:-'tis true that an
authdr must feel himself, or his'reader will
not;-but I have torn my Whole frame into
pieces by my feelings.-T believe the brain
stands as much in need of recruiting as the
body,-therefore I shall set out for town the
20th of next month, after having'recruited
myself a week at York. I might indeed
solace myself with my wife (who is come
from France) but in fact I have long been
a sentimental being,-whatever your Lordship may think to the contrary. The world
has imagined, because I wrote Tristram
Shandy, that I was myself more Shandean
than I really ever was.-'Tis a good-natured world we live in; and we are often
painted in divers colors, according to the
ideas each one frames in his head.-A very
agreeable lady arrived three years ago at
York, in her road to Scarborough.-I had
the honor of being acquainted with her, and
was her chaperon.-All the females were
very inquisitive to know who she was."Do not tell, ladies;'tis a mistress my' wife has recommended to me!-nay,
"moreover, has sent her from France!"
I hope my book will please you, my Lord,
and then my labor will not be totally in
vain. If it is not thought a chaste book,
mercy on them that read it, for they must
have warm imaginations indeed!-Can your
Lordship forgive my not making, this a
longer epistle — In short, I can but add this,
which you already know, that I am, with
gratitude and friendship,
My Lord,
Your obedient, faithful
L. STERNE.
If your Lordship is in town in Spiing, 1
should be happy if you became acquainted
with my friends in Gerrard-street;-you
would esteem the husband, and honor the
wife;-she is the reverse of most of her




392


LETTERS.


sex;-they have various pursuits,-she but          LETTER CXVII
one,-that of pleasing her husband.
TO A. L-E, ESQ.
Coxwould, Dec. 7,1767
LETTER CXVI.                    DEAR L.,
I SAID I would not perhaps write any
TO HIS EXCELLENCY SIR G. M.       more; but it would be unkind not to reply
Coxwould, Dec. 3, 1767. to so interesting a letter as yours.-I am
MY DEAR FRIEND,                    certain you may depend upon Lord's
FOR though you are His Excellency, and promises;-he will take care of you in the
I still but Parson Yorick,-I still must call best manner he can; and your knowledge
you so;-and were you to be next Emperor of the world, and of languages in particular,
of-Russia, I could not write to you, or speak will make you useful in any department.of you, under any other relation.-I felici- If his Lordship's scheme does not succeed,
tate you,-I don't say how much, because I leave the kingdom;-go to the east, or the
can't.-I always had something like a kind west, for travelling would be of infinite
of revelation within me, which pointed out service to both your body and mind.-But
this track for you, in which you are so hap- more of this when we meet:-now to my
pily advanced:-it was not only my wishes own affairs. -I have had an offer of exfor you, which were ever ardent enough to changing two pieces otf preferment I hold
impose upon a visionary brain, but I thought here, for a living of three hundred and fifty
I actually saw you just where you now are; pounds a year in Surrey, about thirty miles
-and that is just, my dear Macartney, from London, and retaining Coxwould, and
where you should be.-I should long, long my prebendaryship; - the country also is
ago, have acknowledged the kindness of a sweet;-,but I will not, cannot come to any
letter of yours from Petersburgh; but hear- determination, till I have consulted with
ing daily accounts you was leaving it,-this you, and my other friends.-I have great
is the first time I knew well where my offers too in Ireland;-the Bishops of Cthanks would find you:-how they will find and R-  are both my friends;-but I have
you, I know well;-that is, the same I ever rejected every proposal, unless Mrs. Sknew you. In three weeks I shall kiss your and my Lydia could accompany me thither.
hand;-and sooner, if I can finish my Sen- -I live for the sake of my girl, and with
timental Journey.-The deuce take all sen- her sweet light burthen in my arms, I could
timents!-I wish there was not one in the get fast up the hill of preferment, if I chose
world!-My wife is come to pay me a sen- it;-but without my Lydia, if a mitre was
timental visit as far as from Avignon;-and offered me, it would sit uneasy upon my
the politesse arising from such a proof of brow.-Mrs. S-'s health is insupportable
her urbanity, has robbed me of a month's in England. —She must return to France;
writing, or I had been in town now. —-I am and justice and humanity forbid me to opgoing to lie-in, being at Christmas at my pose it. -I will allow her enough to live
full reckoning; - and unless what I shall comfortably,- until she can rejoin me.-My
brin, forth is not press'd to death by-these heart bleeds, L-, when I think of partdevils of printers, I shall have the honor of ing with my child;-'twill be like the seppresenting to you a couple of as clean brats aration of soul and body, —-and equal to noas ever chaste brain conceived;-they are thing but what passes at that tremendous
frolicksome too, mais cela n'empeche pas. moment; and like it in one respect, for she
-I put your name down with many wrong will be in one kingdom, whilst I am in anand right Ihonorables, knowing you would other.-You will laugh at my weakness,take it not well if I did not make myself but I cannot help it;-for she is a dear dis-happy with it. Adieu, my dear friend.,  interested girl.-As a proof of it,-when
Believe me yours, &c.      she left Coxwould, and I bade her, adieu, I
L. STERNE.  pulled out my purse and offered her ten
P. S. If you see Mr. Crawford, tell him guineas for her private pleasures:-her angreet him kindly.                     swer was pretty, and affected me too much'




LETTERS.


393


-' No, my dear papa, our expenses of com-'ing from  France may have straitened'you; — I would rather put an hundred'guineas into your pocket than take ten'out of it.'-I burst into tears:-but why
lo I practise on your feelings,-by dwelling
on a subject that will touch your heart?It is too much melted already by its own
sufferings, L-, for me to add a pang,
or cause a single sigh.-God bless you!-I
shall hope to greet you by New-year's-day
in perfect health.-Adieu, my dear friend.
— I am most truly and cordially yours,
L. STERNE.
LETTER CXVIII.
TO J-    H  S, ESQ.
December, 1767.
Literas vestras lepidissimas, mi consobrine, consobrinis meis, omnibus carior,
accepi die Veneris; sed posta non rediebat
versus Aquilonem eo die, aliter scripsissem
prout desiderabas. Nescio quid est materia
cum me, sed sum fatigatus 6 acegrotus de
med uxore plus quam unquam,-(- sum
possessus cum diabolo qui pellet me in urbem,-Sf tu es possessus cum eodem malo
spiritu qui te tenet in deserto esse tentatum
ancillis tuis, et perturbatum uxore tud,crede mihi, mi Antoni, quod isthcec non
est via ad salutem  sive hodiernam, sive
eternam; num tu incipis cogitare de pecunid, quec, ut ait Sanctus Paulus, est radix
omnium malorum, 4 non satis dicis in
corde tuo, ego Antonius de Castello Infirmo,
sum jam quadraginta c4 plus annos natus,
4 explevi octavum meum lustrum, et tempus est me curare, 4 meipsum Antonium
facere hominem   felicem  f liberum, et
mihimet ipsi benefacere, ut exhortatur
Solomon, qui dicit quod nihil est melius in
hic vitoa, qudm quod homo,vivat festive 4
quod edat et bibat, df bono fruatur, quite
hoc est sua portio 4' dos in hoc mundo.
Nunc te scire vellemus, quod non debeo
esse reprehendi pro festinando eundo ad
Londinum, quia Deus esf testis, quod non
propero prce gloria, 4' pro me ostendere;
nam diabolus iste qui me intravit, non est
diabolus vanus, aut consobrinus suus Lucifer,-sed est diabolus amabundus, qui non
2 Z


vult sinere me esse solum; nam cum non'
cumbendo cum uxore med, sum mentulatior qudm par est, —.S sum mortaliter in
amore, —4 sum fatuus;-ergo tu me, mi
care Antoni, excusabis, quoniam tu fuisti
in amore,. 4  per mare    S per terras
ivisti 4' festindsti sicut diabolus eodem te
propellente, diabolo. Habeo multa ad te
scribere, -sed scribo hanc epistolam in
domo cofeataria 4c plena sociorum strepitosorum, qui non permittent me cogitare
unam cogitationem.
Saluta amicum Panty meum, cujus literis respondebo,-saluta amicos in domo
Gisbrosensi, 4' oro, credas me vinculo consobrinitatis 4' amoris ad te, mi Antoni,
devinctissimnum,


L. STERNE.


LETTER CXIX.
TO MR. AND MRS. J-.
York, December 23, 1767.
I WAS afraid that either Mr. or Mrs. J-,
or their little blossom, was drooping, or
that some of you were ill, by not having
the pleasure of a line from you; and was
thinking of writing again to inquire after
you all, — hen I was cast down myself
with a fever, and bleeding at my lungs,
which had confined me to my room near
three weeks; when I had the favor of yours,
which till to-day I have not been able to
thank you both kindly for, as I most cor
dially now do, as well as for all your professions and proofs of good-will to me. 1
will not say I have not balanced accounts
with you in this; all I know is, that I honor
and value you more than I do any good
creatures upon earth; and that I could not
wish your happiness, and the success of
whatever conduces to it, more than I do,
was I your brother:-but, good God! are
we not all brothers and sisters, who are
friendly, virtuous, and good? Surely, my
dear friends, my illness has been a sort
of sympathy for your afflictions, upon the
score of your dear little one.-I am worn
down to a shadow; but, as my fever has
left me, I set off the latter end of next week
with my friend Mr. Hall for town. —I need
not tell my friends in Gerrard-str  L t.'




394                              LET1
shall do myself the honor to visit them, before either Lord --  or Lord, &c.I thank you, my dear friend, for what you
say so kindly about my daughter: it shows
your good heart; for as she is a stranger,'tis a free gift in you; but when she is
known to you, she shall win it fairly: but,
alas! when this event is to happen, is in
the clouds.-Mrs. S — has hired a house
ready furnished at York, till she returns to
France; and my Lydia must not leave her.
What a sad scratch of a letter!-but I
am weak, my dear friends, both in body and
mind; so God bless you! you will see-me
enter like a ghost; so I tell you beforehand
not to be frightened.-I am, my dear friends,
with the truest attachment and esteem,
ever yours,
L. STERNE.


LETTER CXX.
TO THE SAME.
Old Bond-street, Jan. ], 1768.
NOT knowing whether the moisture of
the weather will permit me to give my
kihd friends in Gerrard-street a call this
morning for five minutes,-I beg leave to
send them all the good wishes, compliments,
and respects I owe- them. I continue to
mend; and doubt not but this, with all other
evils and,uncertainties, of life, will end for
the best. I send all compliments to your
firesides this Sunday night:-Miss Ascough
the wise, Miss Pigot the witty, your daughter the pretty, and so on.-If Lord  --
is with you, I beg my dear Mrs. J — will
present the inclosed to him;-'twill add to
the millions of obligations I already owe
you.-I am sorry that I am no subscriber
to Soho this season; it deprives me of a
pleasure worth twice the subscription; but
I am just going to send about this quarter
of the town, to see if it is not too late to
procure a ticket, undisposed of, from some
of my Soho friends; and if I can succeed,
I will either send or wait upon you with it
by half an hour after three to-morrow: if
not, my friend will do me the justice to believe me truly miserable.-I am half engaged, or more, for dinner on Sunday next;


rERS.
but will try to get disengaged, in order to
be with my friends. If I cannot, I will glide
like a shadow uninvited to Gerrard-street
some day this week, that we may eat our
bread and meat in love and peace together.
-God bless you both! I am, with the most
sincere regard,Your ever obliged,
L. STERNE.
LETTER CXXI.
TO THE SAME.
Old Bond-street, Monday.
MY DEAR FRIENDS,
I rAVE never been a moment at rest since
I wrote yesterday about this Soho ticket.I have been at the Secretary of State to
get one;-have been upon one knee tc
my friends Sir G —.  M, Mr. Lascelles, and Mr. Fitzmaurice; - without
mentioning five more.-I believe I could as
soon get you a place at court, for every
body is going: but I will go out and try a
new circle; and if you do not hear from
me by a quarter after three, you may con
elude I- have been unfortunate in my supplications.-I send you this state of the affair, lest my silence should make you think
I had neglected what I promised;-but no;
-Mrs. J-    knows me better, and would
never suppose it would be out of the head
of one who is with so much truth
Her faithful friend,
L. STERNE.
LETTER CXXII.
TO THE SAME.
Thursday, Old Bond-street.
A THOUSAND thanks, and as many ex-,
cuses, my dear friends, for the trouble my
blunder has given you. By a second note,
I am astonished I could read Saturday for
Sunday, or make any mistake in a card
wrote by Mrs. J —s, in which my friend
is as unrivalled as in a hundred greater
excellencies.
I am now tied down neck and heels
(twice over) by engagements every day




LETTERS.


395


this week, or most joyfully would have trod
the old pleasing road from Bond to Gerrardstreet.-My books will be to be had on
Thursday, but possibly on Wednesday in
the afternoon.-I am quite well, but exhausted with a room full of company every
morning till dinner.-How do I lament I
cannot eat my morsel (which is always
sweet) with such kind friends. The Sunday following I will assuredly wait upon
you both, and will come a quarter before
four, that I may have both a little time and
a- little daylight, to see Mrs. J-'s picture..1 beg leave to assure my friends of my
gratitude for all their favors, with my sentimental thanks for every token of their
good-will.-Adieu, my dear friends.
I am truly yours,
L. STERNE.


too. A few hypocrites and Tartuffes, whose
approbation could do it nothing but dishonor, remain unconverted.
I am very proud, Sir, to have had a man
like you on my side from the beginning;
but it is not in the power of every one to
taste humor, however he may wish it; it is
the gift of God; and, besides, a true feeler
always brings half the entertainment along
with him; his own ideas are only called forth
by what he reads; and the vibrations within
him entirely correspond with those excited
-'Tis like reading himself; and not the
book.
In a week's time I shall be delivered of
two volumes of the Sentimental Travels of
Mr. Yorick through France and Italy; but
alas! the ship sails three days too soon, and
I have but to lament it deprives me of the
pleasure of presenting them to you.
Believe me, dear Sir, with great thanks
for the honor you have done me, with true
esteem,'Your obliged humble servant,
L. STERNE.


LETTER CXXIII.
TO DR. EUSTACE, IN AMERICA.
T.anrlrn, I  ah,O   IRQ.


SIR,
I THIS moment received your obliging
letter, and Shandean piece of sculpture         LETTER CXXIV.
along with it: of both which testimonies
of your regard I have the justest sense, and     TO L. S-N  ESQ.
return -you, dear Sir, my best thanks and             Old Bond-street, Wednesday.
acknowledgment. Your walking-stick is     DEAR SIR,
in no sense more Shandaic than in that of  YOUR commendations are very flattering;
its having more handles than one; the par- I know no one whose judgment I think
allel breaks only in this, that in using the more highly of; but you'ipartiaiity for me
stick, every one will take the handle which is the only instance in which I can call it
suits his convenience. In Tristram Shandy, in question.-Thanks, my good Sir, for the
the handle is taken which suits the passions, prints;-I am much your debtor for them.
their ignorance, or their sensibility. There -If I recover from my ill state of health
is so little true feeling in the herd of the and live to revisit Coxwould this summer,
world, that I wish I could have got an act I will decorate my study with them, along
of parliament, when the books first appeared, with six beautiful pictures I have already
that none but wise men should look into of the sculptureson poor Ovid's tomb, which
them. It is too much to write books, and were executed on marble at Rome.- It
find heads to understand them: the world, grieves one to think such a man should
however, seems to come into a better term- have died in exile, who wrote so well on
per about them, the people of genius here the art of love.-Do not think me encroach
being to a man on its side; and the recep- ing if I solicit a favor;-'tis either to bor
tion it has met with in France,.Italy, and row, or beg (to beg, if you please) some ol
Germany, has engaged one part of the those touched with chalk which you broughl
world to give it a second reading. The from Italy.-I believe you have three sets
other, in order to be on the strongest side,; and if you can spare the imperfect one ol
has at length agreed to speak well of it cattle on colored paper,'twill answer mn




396


LETTERS..


purpose, which is namely this, to give a'twill not be for a long period, my child,friend of ours.-You may be ignorant she unless a quiet retreat and peace of mind
has a genius for drawing; and whatever can restore me.-The subject of thy letter
she excels-in she conceals; and her'humility has astonished me.-She could but know
adds lustre to her accomplishments.-I pre- little of my feelings, to tell thee that, under
sented her last year with colors, and an the supposition I should survive thy mother,
apparatus for painting, and gave her several I should bequeath thee as a legacy to!
lessons before I left town.-I wish her to No, my Lydia!'tis a Lady, whose virtues
tillow this art, to be a complete mistress of I wish thee to imitate, that I shall intrust
it; and it is singular enough, but not more my girl to; I mean that friend whom  I
singular than true, that she does not know have so often talked and wrote about.


how to make a cow or a sheep, though she
draws figures and landscapes perfectly
well; which makes me-wish her to copy
from good prints.-If you come to town
next week, and dine where I am engaged
next Sunday, call upon me and take me
with you.-I breakfast with Mr. Beauclerc,
and am engaged for an hour afterwards
with Lord O —; so let our meeting be
either at your house or my lodgings:-do not
be late, for we will go half an hour before
dinner, to see a picture executed by West,
most admirably;-he has caught the character of our friend: -such goodness is
painted in that face, that when one looks
at it, let the soul be ever so much unharmonized, it is impossible it should remain
so.-I will send you a set of my books;they will take with the generality:-the
women will read this book in the parlor,
and Tristram in the bed-chamber. -Goodnight, dear Sir;-I am going to take my
whey, and then to bed. Believe me
Yours most truly,
L. STERNE.
LETTER CXXV.
TO MISS STERNE.
Feb. 20, Old Bond street.
MY DEAREST LYDIA,
MY Sentimental Journey, you say, is admired in York by every one:-and'tis not
vanity in me to tell you that it is no less
admired here:-but what is the gratification
of my feelings on this occasion?-The want
of health bows me down, and vanity harbors
not in thy father's breast.-This vile influenza!-be not alarmed! I think I shall
get the better of it;-and I-shall be with
you both the first of May; and, if I escape,


From her you will learn to be an affectionate wife, a tender mother, and a sincere
friend;-and you cannot be intimate with
her without her pouring some part of the
milk of human kindness into your breast,
which will serve to check the heat of
your own temper, which you partake in
a small degree of.-Nor will that amiable
woman put my Lydia under the painful necessity to fly to India for protection whilst it


is in her power to grant her a more powerful
one in England.-But I think, my Lydia,
that thy mother will survive me. Do not
deject her spirits with thy apprehensions on
my account. I have sent you a necklace,
buckles, and the same to your mother.My girl cannot form a wish that is in the
power of her father, that he will not gratify
her in;-and I cannot, in justice, be less
to thy mother.-I am never alone.-The
kindness of my friends is ever the same.I wish, though, I had thee to nurse me;
but I am denied that.-Write to me twice
a week, at least. -God. bless thee, my child,
and believe me ever, ever, thy
Affectionate father,
L. STERNE.
LETTER CXXVI.


TO MRS. J.


Tuesday.


YOUR poor friend is scarce able to write;
he has been at Death's door this week with
a pleurisy.-I was bled three times on
Thursday, and blistered on Friday.-The
physician says I am better.-God knows,
for I feel myself sadly wrong, and shall,
if I recover, be a long while of gaining
strength.  Before I have gone through
half this letter, I must stop to rest my weak
hand above a dozen times. -Mr. J-    was




LETTERS.


397


so good as to call upon me yesterday. I
felt emotions not to be described at the
sight of him: and he overjoyed me by talking a great deal of you.-Do, dear Mrs.
J-, entreat him to come to-morrow, or
next day, for perhaps I have not many days
or hours to live.-I want to ask a favor of
him, if I find myself worse,-that I shall
beg of you, if in this wrestling I come off
conqueror.-My spirits are fled;-'tis a bad
omen.-Do not weep, my dear Lady;your tears are too precious to shed for
me;-bottle them up, and may the cork
never be drawn — Dearest, kindest, gentlest, and best of women! may health,
peace, and happiness, prove your handmaids!-If I die, cherish the remembrance
of me, and forget the follies which you so
often condemned,- which my heart, not
my head, betrayed me into. Should my
child, my Lydia, want a mother, may I hope
you will (if she is left parentless).take her
to your bosom — You are the only woman
on earth I can depend upon for such a benevolent action.-I wrote to her a fortnight
ago,* and told her what, I trust, she will
find in you.-Mr. J- will be a father to
her;-he will protect her from every insult;
for he wears a sword which he has served
his country with, and which he would know
how to draw out of the scabbard in defence
of innocence. Commend me to him, as I
now commend you to that Being who takes
under his care the good and kind part of
the world.-Adieu.-All grateful thanks to
you and Mr. J —
Your poor affectionate friend,
L. STERNE.
LETTER CXXVII.
TO **********.
- I BEHELD her tender look; —her pathetic eye petrified my fluids;-the liquid
dissolution drowned those once-bright orbs;
the late sympathetic features, so pleasing in
their harmony, are now blasted, withered,
and are dead;-her charms are dwindled


into a melancholy which demands my pity.
-Yes, my friend, our once sprightly and
vivacious Harriot is that very object that
must thrill your spul.-Ilow abandoned is
that heart which bulges the teat of innocence, and is the cause,-the fatal cause of
overwhelming the spotless soul, and plunging the yet untainted mind into a sea of
sorrow and repentance!Though born to
protect the fair, does not man act the part of
a demon?-first alluring by his temptation,;
and then triumphing in his victory. —VWhn
villany gets the ascendency, it seldom leavet
the wretch till it has thoroughly polluted
him.-T*******, once the joyous companion
of our juvenile extravagancies, by a deeplaid scheme, so far ingratiated himself into
the good graces of the old man, —that even
he, with all his penetration and experience
(of which old folks generally pique themselves) could not perceive his drift, and,
like the goodness of his own heart, believed
him honorable-!-Had I known his pretensions,-I would have flown on the wings of
friendship,-of regard,-of affection,-and
rescued the lovely innocent from the hands
of the spoiler.-Be not alarmed at my declaration:-I have been long bound to her
in the reciprocal bonds of affection; but it
is of a more delicate stamp than the gross
materials Nature has planted in us for procreation.-I hope ever to retain the idea of
innocence, and love her still.-I would love
the whole sex, were they equally deserving.
-   - taking her by the hand,-the
other thrown round her waist,-after an intimacy allowing such freedoms,  with a
look deceitfully pleasing, the villain poured
out a torrent of protestations,-and, though
oaths are sacred,-swore with all the fortitude of a conscientious man-the depth of
his love,-the height of his esteem,-the
strength of his attachment.-By these, and
other artful means to answer his abandoned
purpose (for which, you know, he is but too
well qualified)-gained on the open inexperienced heart of the generous Harriot, and
robbed her of her brightest jewel. -Oh,
England! where are your senators?-where
are your laws?-Ye Heavens! where rests
your deadly thunder — why are your bolts
restrained from overwhelming'with vengeance this vile seducer?-I, my friend, I
was the minister sent by justice to revenger
34


* From this circumstance it may be conjectured,
that this letter was written on Tuesday, the eighth
ot March, 17ti8, ten days before Mr. Sterne died.




398


LETTERS.


her wrongs.-Revenge!-I disclaim it:to redress her wrongs.-The news of affliction flies;-I heard it, and posted to ****,
where, forgetting my character, - this is
the style of the enthusiast,-it most became
my character,-I saw him in his retreat;I flew out of the chaise, caught him by the
collar, and, in a tumult of passion, demanded,
-sure, if anger is excusable, it must be
when it is excited by a detestation of vice,
-I demanded him to restore,-alas! what
was not in his power to return. —Vengeance!
and shall these vermin, these spoilers of the
fair, these murderers of the mind, lurk and
creep about in dens, secure to themselves,
and pillage all around them?-Distracted
with my rage, —I charged him with his
crime,-exploded his baseness, —condemned
his villany;-while coward-guilt sat on his
sullen brow, and, like a criminal conscious
of his deed, tremblingly pronounced his fear.
-He hoped means might be found for a
sufficient atonement,-offered a tender of
his hand as a satisfaction, and a life devoted
to her service, as a recompense for his
error. a His humiliation struck me;-'twas
the only means he could have contrived to
assuage my anger.-I hesitated, paused,
thought, and still must think on so important a concern.-Assist me;-I am half
afraid of trusting my Harriot in the hands
of a man, whose character I too well know
to be the antipodes of Harriot.-He is all
fire and dissipation-;-she all meekness and
sentiment!-nor can I think there is any
hopes of reformation:-the offer proceeds
more from surprise or fear, than justice and
sincerity.-The world, the world will exclaim, and my Harriot be a cast-off from
society!-Let her;-I had rather see her
thus, than miserably linked for life to a
lump of vice.-She shall retire to some
corner of the world, and there weep out the
remainder of her days in sorrow,-forgetting the wretch who has abused her confidence, but ever remembering the friend who
consoles her in retirement.-You, my dear
Charles, shall bear a part with me in the
delightful task of whispering "peace to'those who are in trouble, and healing the'broken in spirit."
Adieu..
L. STERNE.


LETTER, CXXVIII.
TO THE SAME.
SIR,
I FEEL the weight of obligation which
your friendship has laid upon me; and if it
should never be in my power to make you a
recompense, I hope you will be recompensed
at the " resurrection of the just."-I hope,
Sir, we shall both be found in that catalogue; and we are encouraged to hope,
by the example of Abraham's faith, even
"against hope."-I think there is, at least,
as much probability of our reaching, and
rejoicing in the " haven where we would
"be," as there was of the old patriarch's
having a child by his old wife.-There is
not any person, living or dead, whom I have
so strong a desire to see and converse with
as yourself:-indeed, I have no inclination
to visit, or say a syllable to, but a few persons in this lower vale of vanity and tears,
beside.you;-but I often derive a peculiar
satisfaction in conversing with the ancient
and modern dead, who yet live and speak
excellently in their works.-My neighbors
think me often alone;-and yet, at such
times, I am in company with more than five
hundred mutes,-each of whom, at my
pleasure, communicates his ideas to me by
dumb signs,-quite as intelligibly as any person living can do by uttering of words. —They
always keep the distance from me which I
direct;-and, with a motion of my hand, I
can bring them as near to me as I please.I lay hands on fifty of them' sometimes in
an'evening, and handle them as I like:they never complain of ill-usage,-and,
when dismissed from my presence,-though
ever so abruptly,-take no offence.-Such
convenience is not to be enjoyed,-nor such
liberty to be taken,-with the living:-we
are bound, in point of good manners, to admit
all our pretended friends when they knock
for an entrance; and dispense with all the
nonsense or impertinence which they bi oach,
till they think proper to withdraw: nmr can
we take the liberty of humbly and decently
opposing their sentiments, without exciting
their disgust, and being in danger of their
splenetic representation after they have
left us.




I am weary of talking to the
who, though quick of hearing,-are
"of heart to believe"-propositio
are next to self-evident.-You ar
not cast in one mould,-corporeal
ron will attest it;-and yet we
imed so much alike, that we ma'
twins:-were it possible to take E
tory of all our sentiments and feelir
and unjust,-holy and impure,-the
appear as little difference betweer
there is between instinct and rewit and madness. The barriers wl
rate these,-like the real essence
-escape the piercing eye of me,
and cannot be pointed out more cle
geometricians define a straight lii
is said to have length without bre
ye learned anatomical aggregate
candid as the sage whom ye p
revere;-and tell them that all
is, that you know nothing!
— I have a mort to communicm
on different subjects;  my mou
be in labor till I see you,-and the
then - why. you must expect to se
forth-a mouse!-I therefore beE
to have a watchful eye to the cat
is said that mice were designed tc
by cats, -cats to be worried by 
&c.-This may be true;-and I tI
made to be killed by my cough, v
perpetual plague to me. What in
of sound lungs, has my cough t(
you, or you with my cough 
I am, Sir, with the most perfect
and esteem,
Your humble serva:
L.'
LETTER CXXIX.
TO * * * 
DEAR SIR,
I HAVE received your kind lett<
cal, and I will add, of parental advi
contrary to my natural humor, se
looking gravely for half a day
sometimes I concluded you had
out, but had stronger grounds for


LETTERS.                                399
many,-   and cautions than what your good-nature
so "slow knew how to tell me, especially with rens which gard to prudence, as a divine; and that you
id 1 were thought, in your heart, the vein of humor
compari- too free for the solemn color of my coat. A
are fash- meditation upon Death had been a more
y pass for suitable trimming to it, I own; but then it
an inven- could not have been set on by me. Mr.
igs,-just F —, whom I regard in the class I do you,
ere would as my best of critics and well-wishers,
a them as preaches daily to me on the same text'
Lson,-or, " Get your preferment first, Lory," he says
hich sepa- "and then write and welcome." But supof bodies, pose preferment is long a-coming,-and, fc?
taphysics, aught I know, I may not be preferred till
aarly than the resurrection of the just;-and all that
ne, which time in labor, how must I bear my pains?
Eadth.-O Like pious divines? or, rather, like able
es! be as philosophers, knowing that one passion is
retend to only to be combated with another? But to
you know be serious (if I can) I will use all reasonable caution,-only with this caution along
ate to you with it, not to spoil my book; that is, the
ntain will air and originality of it, which must reDn,-what sernble the author; and I fear it is the?e it bring number of these slighter touches which
seech you make the resemblance, and identify it from
s!-but it all others of the same stamp, which this
be killed understrapping virtue of Prudence would
dogs, &c. oblige me to strike out.-A very able critic,
hink I am and one of my color too, who has read ovei
vhich is a Tristram, made answer, upon my saying 1
the name would consider the color of my coat as I coro do with rected it,-that that idea in my head would
render my book not worth a groat.-Still I
t affection promise to be cautious; but deny I have
gone as far as Swift: he keeps a due disnt,      tance from Rabelais; I keep a due distance
STERNE. from him. Swift has said a hundred things
I durst not say, unless I was Dean of St.
Patrick's.
I like your caution, ambitiosa recides ornamenta. As I revise my book, I will shrive
my conscience upon that sin; and whatever
ornaments are of that kind, shall be defaced
without mercy. Ovid is justly censured for
being ingenii sui amator; and it is a reason3r of criti- able hint to me, as I am not sure I am clear
ce, which, of it. To sport too much with your wit, or
t me upon the game that Wit has pointed out, is surtogether: feitiAg; like toying with a man's mistress,
not spoke it may be very delightful solacement to
your hints the enamoratc, but little to the bystander






J400                             LETTERS.
Though I plead guilty to part of the charge, scribing silly and trifling events with ttu
yet it would greatly alleviate the crime, if circumstantial pomp of great ones. Perhaps
my readers knew how much I have sup- this is overloaded, and I' can ease it. --
pressed of this device. I have burnt more have a project of getting Tristram put into
wit than I have published, on that very ac- the hands of the Archbishop, if he comes
count, since I began to avoid the fault I fear down this autumn; which will ease my
I may yet have given proofs of. —I will re- mind of all trouble upon the topic of disconsider Slop's fall, and my too minute de- cretion.
sciiption of it; but, in general, I am per-             I am, &c.
suaded that the happiness of the Cervantic                        L. STERNE
minor arises from this very thing:-of de



AN IMPROMPTU.
TO MR. B.


Exeter, July, 1775.
SIR,
THIS was quite an impromptu of Yorick's
after he had been thoroughly soused.-He
drew it up in a few moments, without stopping his pen. I should be glad to see it in
your intended collection of Mr. Sterne's
Memoirs, &c. If you should have a copy of
it, you will be able to rectify a misapplication of a term that Mr. Sterne could never
be guilty of; as one great excellence of his
writing lies in the most happy choice of
metaphors and allusions,-such as showed
his philosophic judgment, at the same time
that they display his wit and genius;-but
it is not for me to comment on, or correct
so great an original. I should have sent
this fragment as soon as I saw Mrs. Medalle's advertisement, had I not been at a
distance from my papers. I expect much
entertainment from this posthumous work
of a man to whom no one is more indebted
for amusement and instruction than,
Sir,
Your humble servant,
S. P.
AN IMPROMPTU.
No;-not one farthing would I give for
such a coat, in wet weather or dry.-If the
sun shines, you are sure of being melted
because it closes so tight about one;-if it
rains, it is no more a defence than a cobweb;-a very sieve, o' my conscience, that
lets through every drop! and, like many
other things that are put on only for a
cover, mortifies you with disappointment,
3 A


and makes you curse the imposture, when
it is too late to avail one's-self of the discovery. Had I been wise, I should have examined the claim the coat had to the title
of "Defender of the Body,"-before I had
trusted my body is it.-I should have held
it up to the light, like other suspicious matters, to have seen how much it was likely
to admit of that which I wanted to keep
out:-whether it was no more than such a
frail, flimsy contexture of flesh and blood,
as I am fated to carry about with me through
every tract of this dirty world, could have
comfortably and safely dispensed with in so
short a journey,-taking into my account
the chance of spreading trees,-thick hedges
o'erhanging the road,-with twenty other
coverts that a man may thrust his head
under, if he is not violently pushed on by
that d-d stimulus, —you know where,that will not let a man sit still in one place
for half a minute together;-but, like a
young nettlesome tit, is eternally on the
fret, and is for pushing on still farther:or, if the poor scared devil is not haunted
tantivy by a hue and cry, with gyves and
a halter dangling before his eyes.-Now,
in either case, he has not a minute to throw
away in standing still, but, like King Lear,
must brave "the peltings of a pitiless
"storm," and give Heaven leave to "rumble
"its belly-full,-spit fire,-or spout rain,"
-as spitefully as it pleaseth, without finding the inclination or the resolution to
slacken his pace, lest something should be
lost that might have been gained; or more
gotten than he well knows how to get rid
of.-Now had I acted with as much prudence as some other good folks, —I could
name many of them who have been made
B-ps within my remembrance, for having




402'


AN IMPROMPTU.


been hooded and muffled up in a larger
quantity of this dark drab of mental manufacture than ever fell to my share,-and absolutely for nothing else; as will be seen
when they are undressed another day.Had I but as much as might have been
taken out of their cloth, without lessening
much of the size, or injuring in the least
the shape, or contracting aught of the
doublings and foldings, or confining to a
less circumference the superb sweep of any
one cloak that any one B- ever wvrapt himself up in,-I should never have given this
coat a place upon my shoulders. I should
have seen by the light, at one glance, how
little it would keep out of rain, by how
little it would keep in of darkness.-This
a coat for a rainy day! Do pray, Madam,
hold it up to that window.-Did you ever
see such an illustrious coat since the day
you could distinguish between a coat and a
pair of breeches — My Lady did not understand derivatives, and so she could not see
quite through my splendid pun. Pope Sixtus
would have blinded her with the same
"darkness of excessive light." What a flood
of it breaks in through this rent! -what
an irradiation beams through that! - what


twinklings!-what sparklings as you wave
it before your eyes in the broad face of the
sun!-Make a fan out of it for the Ladies,
to look at their gallants with at church.It has not served me for one purpose; —it
will serve them   for two. This is coarse
stuff,-of worse manufacture than the cloth;
-put it to its proper use, for I love when
things sort and-join well:-make a philtre*
of it while there is a drop to be extracted.
-I know but one thing in the world that
will draw, drain, or suck like it; and that
is, neither wool nor flax;-make, make any
thing of it but a vile, hypocritical coat for
me;-for I never can say sub Jove (whatever Juno might) that "it is a pleasure to
"be wet."
L. STERNE.
* This allusion is improper. A philtre originally
signifies a love-potion;-and as it is used as a noun
from the verb philtrate, it must signify a strainer, nut
a sucker.-Cloth is sometimes used for the purpose of
draining, by means of its pores or capillary tubes; but
its action is contrary to philtration. His meaning is
obvious enough; but as he drew up this fragment
without stopping his pen, as I was informed, it is no
wonder he erred in the application of some of his
terms.




THE FRAGMENT.
CHAP.~ I.         we have done —Believe me, dear souls,
this is half in half-and if some skilful
iShowing two Things; first, what a Rabe- body would but put us in a way to do this to
laic Fellow LONGINUS RABELAICUS is: some tune-Thou would'st not have them
and, secondly, how cavalierly he begins chanted surely? quoth TRIBOULET, laughhis Book.                          ing.-No, nor canted neither! quoth GYMNAST, crying-But what I mean, my friends,
MY dear and thrice-reverend brethren, as says LONGINUS RABELAICUS (who is cerwell Archbishops and Bishops, as the rest tainly one of the greatest critics in the
of the inferior clergy! would it not be a western world, and as Rabelaic a fellow as
glorious thing, if any man of genius and ever existed)-what I mean, says he, incapacity amongst us for such a work, was terrupting them both, and resuming his disfully bent within himself to sit down imme- course, is this, that if all the scatter'd rules
diately and compose a thorough-stitched of the KERUKOPAEDIA could be but once
system of the KERUKOPAEDIA, fairly setting carefully collected into one code, as thick
forth to the best of'his wit and memory, as PANURGE'S head, and the whole cleanly
and collecting for that purpose all that is digested-(pooh, says P.NURGE, who felt
needful to be known and understood of that himself aggrieved) -and bound up, conart — Of what art? cried PANURGE.- tinued LONGINUs, by way of a regular inGood God! answered LONGINUS (making stitute, and then put into the hands of every
an exclamation, but taking care at the licensed preacher in Great Britain and Iresame time to moderate his voice,) why, of land, just before he began to compose, I
the art of making all kinds of your theo- maintain it-I deny it flatly, quoth PANURGE.
logical, hebdodomical, rostrummical, hum- -What-? answered LONGINUS RABELAICUS
drummical what-d'ye-call-ems-I will be with all the temper in the world.
shot, quoth EPISTEMON, if all this story of
thine of a roasted horse, is simply no more 
than S —     Sausages! quoth PANURGE.
Thou hast fallen twelve feet and about five        CHAP. II.
inches below the mark, answered EPISTEMON, for I hold them to be Sermons- Inwhich the Reader will begin to form a
which said word (as I take the matter)  JudgmentofwhatanHistorical,Dramabeing but a word of low degree, for a book  tical, Anecdotical, Allegorical, and Comof high rhetoric-LONGINUS RABELAICUS   ical Kind of a Work he has got hold of
was fore-minded to usher and lead in his  HOMENAS, who had to preach next Sundissertation, with as mucb pomp and parade day (before God knows whom,) knowing
as he could afford;-and for my own part, nothing at all of the matter-was all this
either I know no more of Latin than my while at it as hard as he could drive in the
horse, or the KERUKOPAEDIA is nothing but very next room:-for, having fouled two
the art of making of'em.-And why not, clean sheets of his own, and being quite
quoth GYMNAST, of preaching them when stuck fast in the entrance upon his chit]




404                          THE FRAGMENT.
general division, and finding himself unable and almost twenty-five seconds, had a mar
to get either forwards or -backwards with vellous effect upon his discourse; for the
any grace-" Curse it," says he (thereby aforesaid tears, do you mind, did so temper
xcommunicating every mother's son who the wind that was rising upon the aforesaid
should think differently,) " why, may not a discourse, but falling for the most part per" man lawfully call in for help in this, as pendicularly, and hitting the spirits at right
"well as any other human emergency."- angles, which were mounting horizontally
So without any more argumentation, ex- all over the surface of his harangue, they
cept starting up and nimming down from not only played the devil and all with the
the top shelf but one, the second volume of sublimity-but moreover the said tears, by
CLARK-though without any felonious in- their nitrous quality, did so refrigerate,
tention in so doing, he had begun to, clap precipitate, and hurry down to the bottom
me in (making a joint first) five whole of his soul, all the unsavory particles
pages, nine round paragraphs, and a dozen which lay fermenting (as you saw) in the
and a half of good thoughts, all of a row; middle of his conception, that he went on
and because there was a confounded high in the coolest and chastest style (for a
gallery-was transcribing it away like a soliloquy, I think) that ever mortal man
little devil. -Now -quoth HOMENAS to uttered.
himself, "though I hold all this to be fair  "This is really and truly a very hard
"and square, yet, if I am found out, there " case," continued HOMENAS to himself."will be the deuce and all to pay."- Why PANURGE, by the bye, and all the company
are the bells ringing backwards, you lad? in the next room, hearing all along every
what is all that crowd about, honest man? syllable he spoke: for you must know, that
HOMENAS was got upon DOCTOR CLARK'S notwithstanding PANURGE had opened his
back, Sir.-And what of that, my lad? mouth as wide as he could for his blood, in
Why, an' please you, he has broke his order to give a round answer to LONGINUS
neck, and fractured his skull, and befouled RABELAICUS'S interrogation, which conhimself into the bargain, by afall from the cluded the last chapter-yet HOMENAS'S
pulpit two stories high. Alas! poor Ho- rhetoric had poured in so like a torrent,
MENAS! HOMENAS has done his business!- slapdash through the wainscot amongst
HOMENAS will never preach more while them, and happening at that uncritical
breath is in his body.-No, faith, I shall crisis when PANURGE had just put his ugly
never again be able to tickle it off as I have face into the above-said posture of defence
done. I may sit up whole winter nights -that he stopt short-he did indeed, and,
baking my blood with hectic watchings, though his head was full of matter, and he
and write as solid as a FATHER of the church had screwed up every nerve and muscle
-or I may sit down whole summer days, belonging to it, till all cried crack again,
evaporating my spirits into the finest in order to give a due projectile force to
thoughts, and write as florid as a MOTHER what he was going to let fly full in LONof it.-In a word, I may compose myself GINUS RABELAICUS'S teeth, who sat overoff my legs, and preach till I burst-and against him-Yet for all that, he had the
when I have done, it will be worse than if continence to contain himself, for he stopt
not done at all.-Pray Mr. Such-a-one, who short, I say, without uttering one word exeld forth last Sunday? Doctor CLARK, cept Z    ds.-Many reasons may be asItrow, says one. Pray what Doctor CLARK? signed for this, but the most true, the most
says a second. Why, HOMENAS'S Doctor strong, the most hydrostatical, and the'most
CLARK, quoth a third. 0 rare HOMENAS! pnfosophical reason, why PANURGE did not
cries a fourth; your servant, Mr. HOMENASs, go on, was-that the fore-mentioned torrent
quoth a fifth.-'Twill be all over with me, did so drown his voice that he had none
by Heaven-I may as well put the book left to go on with.-God help him, poor felfrom whence I took it.-Here HOMENAS low! so he stopt short (as I have told you.urst into a flood of tears, which falling before,) and all the time HOMENAS was
down helter-skelter, ding dong, without speakipg, he said not another word, good
erry kind of, intermission for six minutes or bad, but stood gaping and staring, like




THE FRAGMENT.


405


what you please-so that the break, marked
thus-which Homenas's grief had made in
the middle of his discourse, which he could
no more help than he could fly-produced
no other change in the room where LONGTNUS RABELAICUS, EPISTEMION, GYMNAST,.
TrRIBOULET, aad nine or ten more honest
blades, had got Kerukopaedizing together,
but that it gave time to GYMNAST' to give
PANURGE a good squashing chuck under


his double chin; which PANURGE taking in
good part, and just as it was meant by
GYMNAST, he forthwith shut his mouthand gently sitting down upon a stool, though
somewhat eccentrically and out of neighbor's row, but listening as all the rest did
with might and main, they plainly and distinctly heard every syllable of what you
will find recorded in the very next chapter




INTRODUCTION TO THE HISTORY
OF
A GOOD WARM WATCH-COAT.
AS the following piece was suppressed can be no impropriety in giving one of the
during the lifetime of Mr. Sterne, and as earliest of Mr. Sterne's bagatelles a place
there are some grounds to believe that it among his more important performances.
was not intended by him for publication, an The slightest sketches of a genius are too
apology may be deemed necessary for in- valuable to be neglected; and the present
serting it in the present edition of his works. edition would be incomplete, if this compoIt must be acknowledged, that a mere jeu sition, written immediately before Tristram
d'esprit relating to a private dispute, which Shandy, and which may be considered as
could, interest only a few, and which was the precursor of it, was omitted. As the
intended to divert a small circle of friends, whole of it alludes to facts and circumstanwas, with great propriety, concealed while ces confined to the city of York, it will be
it might tend to revive departed animosities, necessary to observe, that it was occasioned
or give pain to any of the persons who were by a controversy between Dr. Fountayne
concerned in so trifling a contest. And and Dr. Topham, in the year 1758, on a
these considerations seem  to have had charge made by the latter against the former,
weight with those to whom the MS. was of a breach of promise, in withholding from
intrusted, it not having been made public him some preferment, which he had reason
until many years after it was written, nor to expect. For the better, illustration of
until most of the gentlemen mentioned in this little satire, a few notes are added, from
it were dead. After the lapse of more than the pamphlets which appeared while this
twenty years, it may be presumed that there insignificant difference was agitating.


THE HISTORY
OF
a nooi Warm  WatatdU^ ~oat


SIR,
IN my last, for want of something better
to write about, I told you what a world of
fending and proving we have had of late in
this village* of ours, about an old cast pair
of black plush breeches,+ which John,t our
parish-clerk, about ten years ago, it seems,
had made a promise of to one Trim,d who
is our sexton and dog-whipper.-To this


you write me word, that you have had more
than either one or two occasions to know a
great deal of the shifty behavior of the said
master Trim,-and that you are astonished,
nor can you for your soul conceive, how so
worthless a fellow, and so worthless a thing
into the bargain, could become the occasion
of so much racket as I have represented.
Now, though you do not say expressly
you could wish to hear any more about it,
yet I see plainly enough I have raised your
curiosity; and therefore, from the same motive that I slightly mentioned it at all in
my last letter, I will in this give you a full


* York.
t The Commissaryship of Pickering and Pockling.
ton.
t Dr. John Fountayne, Dean of York.
g Dr. TopIam.




THE HISTORY OF A WATCH-COAT.


4C7


and very circumstantial account of the 1
whole affair.
But, before I begin, I must first set you
right in one very material point, in which
I have misled you, as to the true cause of all
this uproar amongst us, —which does not
take its rise, as I then told you, from the
affair of the breeches; but, on the contrary,
the whole affair of the breeches has taken
its rise from it.-To understand which,
you must know, that the first beginning
of the squabble was not betwixt John
the parish-clerk and Trim the sexton, but
betwixt the parson* of the parish and the
said master Trim, about an old watch-coat,
that had hung up many years in the church,
which Trim had set his heart upon; and


coat out of it, and you to a jerkin, was the
thing as good again as you represent it.
It is necessary to inform you, Sir, in this
place, that the parson was earnestly bent
to serve Trim in this affair, not only from
the motive of generosity, which I have just
ascribed to him, but likewise from another


nothing would serve Trim but he must take
it home, in order to have it converted into
a warm under-petticoat for his wife, and a
jerkin for himself against winter; which,
in a plaintive tone, he most humbly begged
his Reverence would consent to.
I need not tell you, Sir, who have so often
felt it, that a principle of strong compassion
transports a generous mind sometimes beyond what is strictly right;-the parson
was within an ace of being an honorable
example of this very crime; for no sooner
did the distinct words-petticoat,-poor,life,-warm,-winter, strike upon his ear,
but his heart warmed; and, before Trim had
well got to the end of his petition (being a
gentleman of a frank open temper) he told
him he was welcome to it with all his heart
and soul. But Trim, says he, as you see I
am but just got down to my living, and
am an utter stranger to all parish-matters,
knowing nothing about this old watch-coat
you beg of me, having never seen it in
my life, and, therefore, cannot be a judge
whether'tis fit for such a purpose; or, if
it is, in truth, know not whether'tis mine
to bestow upon you or not,-you must have
a week or ten days' patience, till I can make
some inquiries about it;-and if I find it is
in my power, I tell you again, man, your
wife is heartily welcome to an under-petti* Dr. Hutton, Archbishop of York.
t A patent place in the gift of the Archbishop,
which had been given to Dr. Topham for his life, and
which: in 1758, he solicited to have granted to one of
his family after his death.


motive, and that was by making some sort
of recompense for a multitude of small services which Trim had occasionally done,
and indeed was continually doing (as he
was much about the house) when his own
man was out of the way.-For all these
reasons together, I say, the parson of the
parish intended to serve Trim in this matter
to the utmost of his power. All that was
wanting, was, previously to inquire if any
one had a claim to it; or whether, as it had
time immemorial hung up in the church,
the taking it down might not raise a clamor
in the parish.  These inquiries were the
things that Trim dreaded in his heart: he
knew very well. that, if the parson should
but say one word to the churchwardens
about it, there would be an end of the
whole affair. For this, and some other reasons not necessary to be told you at present,
Trim was for allowing no time in this matter,-but on the contrary, doubled his diligence and importunity at the vicaragehouse,-plagued the whole family to death,
-prest his suit morning, noon, and night;
and, to shorten my story, teased the poor
gentleman, who was but in an ill state of
health, almost out of his life about it.
You will not wonder when I tell you,
that all this hurry and precipitation on the
side of master Trim, produced its natural
effect on the side of the parson; and that
was, a suspicion that all was not right at
the bottom.
He was one evening sitting alone in his
study, weighing and turning this doubt
every way in his mind, and, after an hour
and a half's serious deliberation upon the
affair, and running over Trim's behavior
throughout, he was just saying to himself
-it must be so,-when a sudden rap at the
door put an end to his soliloquy, and, in a
few minutes, to his doubts too, for a laborer
in the town, who deemed himself past his
fifty-second year, had been returned by tne
constables in the militia-list, and he had




408


THE HISTORY OF


come with a groat in his hand to search the
parish-register for his age. The parson bid
the poor fellow put the groat into his pocket,
and go into the kitchen,-then shutting the
study-door, and taking down the parish-register,-who knows, says he, but I may fizd
something here about this self-same watchcoat?  He had scarce unclasped the book
in saying this, when he popped on the very
thing he wanted, fairly wrote in the first
page, pasted to the inside of one of the covers, whereon was a memorandum about the
very thing in question, in these express
words-" Memorandum: The great watch"coat was^purchased and given, above two
"hundred years ago, by the lord of the manor,
"to this parish-church, to the sole use and be"hoof of the poor sextons thereof, and their
"successors for ever, to be worn by them-re"spectively in winterly cold nights in ring"ing complines, passing-bells, c4c. which
"the said lord of the manor had done in
"piety, to keep the poor wretches warm,
"and for the good of his own soul, for which
"they were directed to pray," &c.-Just
Heaven! said the parson to himself, looking
upwards, what an escape have I had! Give
this for an under-petticoat to Trim's wife!
I would not have consented to such a desecration to be primate of all England;nay, I would not have disturbed a single
button of itfor all my tythes.
Scarce were the words out of his mouth,
when in pops Trim with the whole subject
of the exclamation under both his arms,-I
say under both his arms, for he had actually
got it ript and cut out ready (his own jerkin
under one arm, and the petticoat under the
other) in order to carry to the taylor to be
made up; and had just stepped in, in high
spirits, to show the parson how cleverly it
had held out.
There are many good similies subsisting in the world, but which I have time
neither to recollect nor look for, which
would give you a strong conception of the
astonishment and honest indignation which
this unexpected stroke of Trim's impudence
impressed upon the parson's looks;-let it
suffice to say, that it exceeded all fair description, —as well as all power of proper
resentment, - except this, that Trim was
ordered,.1 la stern voice, to lay the bundles
dlown upon the table,-to go about his busi

ness, and wait upon him, at his peril, the
next morning, at eleven precisely.-Against
this hour, like a wise man, the parson had
sent to desire John the parish-clerk, who
bore an exceeding good character, as a man
of truth, and who having, moreover, a pretty
freehold of about eighteen pounds a year
in the township,- was a leading man in it;
and, upon the whole, was such a one, of
whom it might be said, that he rather did
honor to his office than that his office did
honor to him;-him he sends for, with the
churchwardens, and one of the sidesmen, a
grave knowing old man, to be present;for, as Trim had withheld the whole truth
from the parson touching the watch-coat, he
thought it probable he would as certainly do
the same thing to others. Though this, I
said, was wise, the trouble of the precaution might have been spared,-because the
parson's character was unblemished,-and
he had ever been held by the world in the
estimation of a man of honor and integrity.
-Trim's character, on the contrary, was as
well known, if not in the world, at least in
all the parish, to be that of a little dirty,
pimping, pettifogging, ambidextrous fellow,
-who neither cared what he did or said of
any, provided he could get a penny by it.
This might, I said, have made any precaution needless;-but you must know, as the
parson had in a manner but just got down to
his living, he dreaded the consequences of
the least ill-impression on his first entrance
among his parishioners, which would have
disabled him from doing them the good he
wished:-so that, out of regard to his flock,
more than the necessary care due to himself,-he was resolved not to lie at the mercy
of what resentment might vent, or malice
lend an ear to.
Accordingly the whole matter was rehearsed, from first to last, by the parson, in
the manner I've told you, in the hearing cf
John, the parish-clerk, and in the presence
of Trim.
Trim had little to sav for himself, except
"that the parson had absolutely promised
to befriend- him and his wife in the affair,
to the utmost of his power; that the watce
coat was certainly in' his power, and that
he might still give it him, if he pleased."
To this the parson's reply was short, but
stronr: "That nothino' was in his rower to




A WATCH IICO AT.


409


do, but what he could do honestly;-that, was good to staunch blood; and actually rein giving the coat to him and his wife, he turned with a cobweb in his breeches' pocket.
should do a manifest wrong to the next Nay, says Trim, it was not a fortnight ago,
sexton, the great watch-coat being the most when your Reverence took that strong
comfortable part of the, place; - that he purge, that I went to the far end of the
should, moreover, injure the right of his whole town to borrow you a close-stool, and
own successor, who would be just so came back, as the neighbors who flouted
much a worse patron as the worth of the me will all bear witness, with-the pan upon
coat amounted to; and, in a word, he de- my head, and never thought it too much."
ldared, that his whole intent in promising Trim concluded this pathetic remonstrance
that coat, was charity to Trim, but wrong with saying, "he hoped his Reverence's
to no man; —that was a reserve, he said, heart would not suffer him to requite so
made in all cases of this kind: and he de- many faithful services by so unkind a return:
dared solemnly, in verbo sacerdotis, that that if it was so, as he was the first, so he
this was his meaning, and was so under- hoped he should be the last example of a
stood by Trim himself."                 man of hris condition so treated."-This
With the weight of this truth, and the plan of Trim's defence, which Trim had
great good sense and strong reason which put himself upon, could admit of no other
accompanied all the parson said on the sub- reply than a general smile.- Upon the
iect,-poor Trim was driven to his last shift, whole, let me inform you, that all that could
and begged he might be suffered to plead be said pro and con, on both sides, being
his right and title to the watch-coat, if not fairly heard, it was plain that Trim in every
by promise, at least by servitude;-it was part of this affair had behaved very ill;well known how much he was entitled to and one thing, which was never expected to
it upon these scores: That he had blacked be known of him, happened, in the course of
the parson's shoes without count, and greas- this debate, to come out against him, namely,
ed his boots above fifty times: that he had that he had gone and told the parson, before
run for eggs in the town upon all occasions, he had ever set foot in his parish,* that John,
-whetted the knives at all hours, catched his parish-clerk, his churchwardens. and
his horse, and rubbed him down:-that, for some of the heads of the parish, were a
his wife, she had been ready upon all occa- parcel of scoundrels. -Upon the Upshot,
sions to char for them; and neither he nor Trim was kick'd out of doors, and told, at
she, to the best of his remembrance, ever his peril, never to come there again.
took a farthing, or any thing beyond a mug  At first, Trim huff'd and bounced most
of ale. - To this account of his services, terribly,-swore he would get a warrant,he begged leave to add those of his wishes, that nothing would serve him but he would
which, he said, had been equally great.-  call a by-law, and tell the whole parish
-He affirmed, and was ready, he said, to make how the parson had misused him; but coolit appear, by a number of witnesses, "he ing of that, as fearing the parson might
had drunk his Reverence's health a thou- possibly bind him over to his good behavior,
sand times (by the bye, he did not add out and. for aught he knew, might send him to
of the parson's own ale)-that he had not the house of correction, he lets the parson
only drunk his own health, but wished it, alone, and, to revenge himself, falls foul upon
and never camne to the house but asked his the clerk, who has no more to do in the
man kindly how he did; that, in particular, quarrel than you or I,-rips up the promise
about half a year ago, when his Reverence of the old - cast pair of black - plush -
cut his finger in paring an apple, he went breeches; and raises an uproar in the town
half a mile* to ask a cunning woman what about it, notwithstanding it had slept ten
* "'Long before any thing of my patent was thought  * In Dr. Fountayne's pamphlet, p. 18 and 19, D,
"of. I not only most sincerely lamented ihe Arch- Tophlam ib charged with having assured Archbishou
" bishop's illness, but made it my business lo inquire  Hulttotn, ltefor  he came into the diocese, that the Deat
"after every place and remedy that might help his and Chapter of York were a set of straunge peoplt;' Grace in his complaints." Extract of a Letter from and thima he would find it very difficult, i ot ifnpossilte.
D). Topham, p. 26 of Dr. Foutlay7ls's Answer.  to live upon good terms with them.
3 B;5




410


THE HISTORY OF


years; -but all this, you must know, is "down as it should be."-John made no
looked upon in no other light but as an artful other reply, but " that the desk was not of
stroke of generalship in Trim to raise a dust, "his raising; — that'twas not one hairand cover himself under the disgraceful "breadth higher than he found it;-and
chastisement he has undergone.         "that as he found it, so he would leave it.
If your curiosity is not yet satisfied,-I "In short, he would neither make an enwill now proceed to relate the Battle of the "croachment, neither would he suffer one."
Breeches, in the same exact manner I have — The late parson might have his virtues,
done that of the Watch-Coat.           but the leading part of his character was
Be it known then, that about ten years not humility;-so that John's stiffness in
ago, when John was appointed parish-clerk this point was not likely to reconcile matof this church, this said Trim took no small ters.- This was Trim's harvest.
pains to get into John's good graces, in  After a friendly hint to John to stand his
order, as it afterwards appeared, to coax a ground, away hies Trim to make his marpromise out of him of a pair of breeches, ket at the vicarage.-What passed there
which John had then by him, of black plush, I will not say, intending not to be uncharinot much the worse for wearing. — Trim table; so shall content myself with only
only begged fbr God's sake to have them guessing at it from the sudden change that
bestowed upon him when John should think appeared in Trim's dress for the better;fit to cast them.                      for he had left his old ragged coat, hat, and
Trim was one of those kind of men who wig, in the stable, and was come forth
loved a bit of finery in his heart; and would strutting across the churchyard, yclad in a
rather have a tatter'd rag of a better body's, good charitable cast coat, large hat, and
than the best plain whole thing his wife wig, which the parson had just given him.
could spin him.                        -   " Ho! ho! hollo! John," cries Trim,
John, who was naturally unsuspicious, in an insolent bravo, as loud as ever he
made no more difficulty of promising the could bawl,-"see here, my lad, how fine
breeches than the parson had done in prom- "I am!"-The more shame for you, anising the great coat; and indeed with some- swered John, seriously.-D)o you think,
thing less reserve,-because the breeches Trim, savs he, such finery, gained by such
were John's own; and he could give them, services, becomes you, or can wear well 
without wrong, to whom he thought fit.  -Fy upon it, Trim, I could not have exIt happened, I was going to say unluckily, pocted this from  you, considering what
but I should rather say most luckily for friendship you pretended, and how kind I
Trim, for he was the only gainer by it, that have ever been to you; how many shillings
a quarrel, about some six or eight weeks and sixpences I have generously lent you
after this, broke out betwixt the* late par- in your distresses.-Nay, it was but the
son of the parish and John the clerk. Some- other day that I promised you these black
body (and it was thought to be nobody but plush breeches I have on. -   Rot your
Trim) had put it into the parson's head, breeches, quoth Trim (for Trim's brain was
"that John's t desk, in the church, was at half-turned with his new finery), rot your
"the least four inches higher than it should breeches, says he,-I would not take them
" be;-that the-thing gave offence, and was up were they laid at my door;-give them,
" indecorous, inasmuch as it approached too and be d  d to you, to whom you like:" near upon a level with the parson's desk I would have you to know, I can have a
"itself."-This hardship the parson cor- better pair of the parson's any day in the
plained of loudly; and told John one day week.-    John told him plainly, as his
after prayers, "he could bear it no longer; word had once passed him, he had a.spirit
"and would have it altered, and brought above taking advantage of his insolence, in
giving them away to another;-but to tell
him his mind freely, he thought he had gol
* Archbishop Herring
so many favors of that kind, and was bu
r Phis alludes to the right of appointing preachers likely to get many more for the same se
tot tre vacant stalls, which Dr. Fountayne. as Dean
of York, claimed against the Archbishop.  vices, of the parson, that he had better give




A WVATC H-CO AT.'


411


up the oreeches, with good-nature, to some &c. were taken down, they were imme
one who would be more thankful for them. diately given (John having a great say in
Here John mentioned Mark* Slender it) to William Doe,* who understood very
(who it seems the day before had asked well what use to make of them.
John for them) not knowing they were      As for the old breeches, poor Mark lived
under promise to Trim. —" Come, Trim, to wear them but a short time; and they
says he, let poor Mark have them,-you got into the possession of Lorry Slim,t an
know he has not a pair to his a-; besides, unlucky wight, by whom  they are still
you see he is just of my size, and they will worn:-in truth, as you will guess, they
fit to a T: whereas, if I give'em to you, are very thin by this time.
look ye, they are not worth much; and,    But Lorry has a light heart; and what
besides, you could not get your backside recommends them to him is this,-That, as
into them, if you had them, without tearing thin as they are, he knows that Trim, let
them all to pieces."-Every tittle of this him say what he will to the contrary, still
was most undoubtedly true; for Trim, you envies the possessor of them; and, with all
must know, by foul-feeding, and playing his pride, would be very glad to wear them
the good-fellow at the parson's, was grown after him.
somewhat gross about the lower parts, if  Upon this footing have these affairs slept
not higher; so that, as all John said upon quietly for near ten years; - and would
the occasion was fact, Trim, with much have slept for ever, but for the unlucky
ado, and after a hundred hums and hahs, kick-bout, which, as I said, has ripp'd this
at last, out of mere compassion to Mark, squabble up afresh; so that it was no longer
signs,+ seals, and delivers up ALL RIGHT, ago than last week, that Trim met and ininterest, and pretensions whatsoever, in sulted John in the public town-way, before
and to the said Breeches, thereby bind- a hundred people;- tax'd him with the
ing his heirs, executors, administrators, promise of the old cast pair of black breeches,
and assigns, never more to cal1 the said notwithstanding Trim's solemn renunciaclaim in QUESTION.-All this renunciation tion;-twitted, him with the pulpit-cloth
was set forth in an ample manner, to be in and velvet cushion;-as good as told him
pure pity to Mark's nakedness;-but the he was ignorant of the common duties of
secret was, Trim had an eye to, and firmly his clerkship; adding, very insolently, that
expected in his own mind,' the great green he knew not so much as to give out a compulpit-cloth,$ and old velvet cushion, which mon psalm in tune.
were that year to be taken down;-which,  John contented himself by giving a plain
by the bye, could he have wheedled John a answer to every article that Trim had laid
second time, as he had hoped, would have to his charge, and appealed to his neigh
made up the loss of the breeches sevenfold. bors, who remembered the whole affair;Now you must know, this pulpit-cloth and, as he knew there was never any thing
and cushion were not in John's gift, but in to be got by wrestling with a chimneythe churchwardens',~ &c. However, as I sweeper, he was going to take his leave of'
said above, that John was a leading man" in Trim for ever. But hold,-the mob by this
the parish, Trim knew he could help him time had got round them, and their high
to'em if he would;-but John had got a mightinesses insisted upon having Trim
surfeit of him,-so when the pulpit-cloth, tried upon the spot.
----— * Dr. nraithwaite.'Trim was accordingly tried; and after a
t Extract of a letter from Dr. Topham to Dt Foun-fill hearing was convicted a second time,
tayne:-" As Dr. Ward has proposed to resign the and handled more roughly by one or more
"jurisdiction of Pickering and Pocklington to Dr. of them than even at the parson's.
"' Braithwaite, if you have not any other objection, I
"shall very readily give utip what interest arises to
"me in these jurisdictions from your friendship and* Mr. Stables.
"regard."-P. 5. of Dr. Fountayne's.nswer to Dr.  t Mr. Sterne himself.
Topham.                                t At the Sessions-dinner, where Dr. Topham charged' The Commissaryship of the Dean of York. and the Dr. Fountayne with the breach of his promise. 1n',oinmissaryslhip of the Dean and Chapter of York.  giving the Commnissaryship of Pocklington and Pie.l.
6 The members of the Chapter.         ering to another person.




412


THE HISTORY OF


-Trim, says one, are you not ashamed
of yourself, to make all this rout and disturbance in the town, and set neighbors
together by the ears, about an old,-wornout,-pair of cast-breeches, not worth half
a crown   Is there a cast coat, or a place
in the whole town, that will bring you in
a shilling, but what you have snapped up
liBe a greedy hound as you are!
In the first place, are you not sexton and
dog-whipper,* worth three pounds a year?
Then you begged the churchwardens to let
your wife have the washing and darning
of the church-linen, which brings you in
thirteen shillings and four-pence:-then
you have six shillings and eight-pence for
oiling and winding up the clock; both paid
you at Easter:-the pounder's place, which
is worth forty shillings a year, you have got
that too:-you are the bailiff, which the
late parson got you, which brings you in
forty shillings more.
Besides all this, you have six pounds a
year paid you quarterly, for being molecatcher to the parish.-Ay, says the luckless wight above-mentioned (who was standing close by him with the plush breeches
on), "you are not only mole-catcher, Trim,
"butyou catch STRAY CONIES too in the dark,
and you pretend a license for it; which,
"I trow, will be looked into at the next
"quarter-sessions.'"-I maintain it, I have
a license, says Trim, blushing as red as
scarlet,-I have a license; and, as I farm
a warren in the next parish, I will catch
conies every hour in the night.- You catch
conies! says a toothless old woman just
passing by.
This set the mob a-laughing, and sent
every man home in perfect good-humor,
except Trim, wno waddled very slowly off,
with that kind of inflexible gravity only to


be equalled by one animal in the creation
and surpassed by none.
I am, Sir,
Yours, &c. &c.


POSTSCRIPT.


I IIAViE broke open my letter to inform
you, that I missed the opportunity of sending' it by the messenger, who, I expected,
would have called upon me in his return
through this village to York; so it has lain
a week or ten days by me.-I am not sorry
for the disappointment, because something
has since happened, in continuation of this
affair, which I am thereby enabled to transmit to you, all under one trouble.
When I finished the above account, I
thought (as did every soul in the parish)
Trim had met with so thorough a rebuff
from John the parish-clerk, and the town'sfolks, who all took against him, that Trim
would be glad to be quiet, and let the matter rest.
But it seems it is not half an hour ago
since Trim* sallied forth again; and, having
borrowed a sow-gelder's horn-with hard
blowing he got the whole town round him,
and endeavored to raise a disturbance, and
fight the whole battle over again;-alleged,
That he had been used in the last fray
worse than the dog; not- by John the parish-clerk, for I should not, quoth Trim,
have valued him arush single hands;-but
all the town sided with him; and twelve
men in buckramt set upon me, all at once,
and kept me in play at sword's-point for
three hours together.
Besides, quoth Trim, there were two
misbegotten knaves in Kendal-green, who
lay all the while in ambush in John's owrhouse; and they, all sixteen, came upon
my back, and let drive at me all together:
-a plague, says Trim, of all cowards.
Trim repeated his story above a dozen
times, which made some of the neighbors
pity him, thinking the poor fellow crack

* " In the first place, would any one imagine that
" Dr. Topham, who was now Master of the Faculties,
— Commissary to the Archbishop of York,-Official
"to the Archdeacon of York,-Official to the Arch-' deacon of the East Riding,-Official to the Archfip.ac.on of Cleveland.-Official to the oeculiar iuris

"diction of Howdenshire,-Official to the Precentor."Official to the Chancellor of the C.urch of York,-  * Alluding to Dr. Topham's Reply to Dr. Fountayne's' and Official to several of the Prebendaries thereof, Answer.
"could accept of so noor an addition as a Commlissary-  t Il Dr. Topham's Reply, he asserts, that Dr. Foun
"ship of five guineas per annum?"-P. S. of Dr tayne's Answer was the child and offspring of many
Fauntaye's Anlswter to Dr. Tophamt.            parents, p. 1.




A WATCH-COAT.


413


brain'd, and that he actually believed what
he said.
After this Trim dropped the affair of the
breeches, and began a fresh dispute about
the reading-desk; which I told you had occasioned some small dispute between the
late parson and John some years ago.This reading-desk, as you will observe,
was but an episode wove into the main
story by the bye; for the main affair was
the battle of the breeches and the great
coat.
However, Trim being at last driven out
of these two citadels,-he has seized hold,
in his retreat, of this reading-desk, with a
view, as it seems, to take shelter behind it.
I cannot say but the man has fought it
out obstinately enough; and, had his cause
been good, I should have really pitied him.
For, when he was driven out of the great
watch-coat, you see he did not run away.
No; —he retreated behind the breeches;
and when he could make nothing of it behind the breeches, he got behind the reading-desk. To what other hold Trim will
next retreat, the politicians of this village
are not agreed. Some think his next move
will be towards the rear of the parson's
boot: but as it is thought he cannot make a
long stand there, others are of opinion,
That Trim will once more in his life get
hold of the parson's horse, and charge upon
him, or perhaps behind him; but as the
horse is not easy to be caught, the more
general opinion is, That, when he is driven
out of the reading-desk, he will make his
last retreat in such a manner, as, if possible,
to gain the close-stool, and defend himself
behind it to the very last drop.
If Trim should make this movement, by
my advice, he should be left, besides his
citadel, in full possession of the field of battle, where'tis certain he will keep every
body a league off, and may hop by himself
till he is weary. Besides, as Trim seems
bent upon purging himself, and may have
abundance of foul humors to work off, I,hink he cannot be better placed.
But this is all matter of speculation.i et me carry you back to matter-of-fact,


and tell you what kind of stand Trim has
actually made behind the said desk:"Neighbors and townsmen all, I will be sworn
before my Lord Mayor, that John and his
nineteen men in buckram have abused me
worse than a dog, for they told you that I
play'd. fast-and-go-loose with the late parson
and him in that old dispute of theirs about
the reading-desk; and that I made matters
worse between them, and not better."
Of this charge, Trim declared he was as
innocent as the child that was unborn; —
than he would be book-sworn, he had f1o
hand in it.
He produced a strong witness, and moreover insinuated, that John himself, instead
of being angry for what he had done in it,
had actually thanked hinl.-Ay, Trim, says
the wight in the plush breeches, but that
was, Trim, the day before John found thee
out. Besides, Trim, there is nothing in
that; for the very year that yoi was made
town's pounder, thou knowest well that
I both thanked thee myself, and moreover
gave thee a good warm supper for turning
John Lund's cows and horses out of my
hard corn-close, which if thou hadst not
done (as thou told'st me) I should have lost
my whole crop; whereas John Lund and
Thomas Patt, who are both here to testify,
and are both willing to take their oaths
on't, that thou thyself wast the very first
man who set the gate open;-and after all
it was not thee, Trim,'twas the blacksmith's poor lad who turned them out;-so
that a man may be thanked and rewarded
too for a good turn which he never did, nor
ever did intend.
Trim could not sustain this unexpected
stroke-so Trim marched off the field without colors flying, or his horn sounding, or
any other ensigns of honor whatever.Whether, after this, Trim intends to rally
a second time,-or whether he may not
take it into his head to claim the victory,none but Trim himself can inform you.
However, the general opinion upon the
whole is this, That, in three several pitch'd
battles, Trim has been so trimm'd, as never
disastrous hero was trimm'd before.


TIHE END OF STERNE'S WORKS.








CONTENTS
oSTERNE'S WORKS
STERNE'S WORKS.


-Page
LIFE OF STERNE..............  iii.
TRISTRAM SHANDY............ 7
SENTIMENTAL JOURNEY........273
LETTERS:I. To Miss L............... 327
II. To the Same............  ib.
III. To the Same........... 328
IV. To the Same........... 329
V. To Mrs. F............ 330
VI. To Dr. ******...........  ib.
VII. To David Garrick, Esq..... 332
VIII. To S- C-, Esq......... 333
IX. To the same......... ib.
X. To Dr. Warburton, Bishop of
Gloucester......... 334
XI. To my Witty Widow, Mrs. F- ib.
XII To S- C-, Esq.....  335
XIII. To the Same............ 336
XIV. To the Same............  ib.
XV. To the Same............337
XVI. To J- H- S-, Esq........ 338
XVII. To the Same............  ib.
XVIII. To Lady........... 339
XIX. To David Garrick, Esq...... 340
XX. To Lady D-.......... 341
XXI. To David Garrick, Esq...... ib.
XXII. To the Same............ 342
XXIII. To Mrs. Sterne, York...... 343
XXIV. To the Same............  ib.
XXV. To the Same............344
XXVI. To the Same............345
XXVII. To the Same............ ib.
XXVIII. To Lady D.......... 346
XXIX. To Mr. E...............347
XXX. To J- H- S-, Esq........ ib.
XXXI. To Mr. Foley, at Paris...... 348
XXXII. To J- H- S-, Esq...... 349
XXXIII. To Mr. Foley, at Paris...... 351
XXXIV. To the Same............  ib.
XXXV. To the Same............  ib.
XXXVI. To the Same............352
XXXVII. To the Same............ ib.
KXXVIII. To the Same............  ib.
XXXIX. To the Same............353
XL. To the Same............ ib.
XLI. To the Same............354
XLII. To the Same............  ib.


Page
XLIII. To the Same........354
XLIV. To the Same.......... 355
XLV. To Mrs. F-.......... i
XLVI. To Miss Sterne.....   356
XLVII. To Mr. Foley.......  ib.
XLVIII. To J- H- S-, Esq...  357
XLIX. To the Same...l..    ib.
L. To Mr. Foley, at Paris.... 358
LI. To the Same........  ib.
LII. To J- H- S-, Esq....... 359
LIII. To Mr. Foley, at Paris...... ib.
LIV. To David Garrick, Esq..... 3)0
LV. To the Same............  ib.
LVI. To Mr. Foley.......... 361
LVII. To Mr. W............ ib.
LVIII. To Mr. Foley, at Paris...... 362
LIX. To the Same............  ib.
LX. To Mr. Panchaud, at Paris... 363
LXI. To the Same............ ib.
LXII. To the Same............ ib.
LXIII. To the Same............  ib.
LXIV. To Miss Sterne.......... 364
LXV. To J- H- S-, Esq........ ib.
LXVI. To Mr. Foley, at Paris...... 365
LXVII. To Mr. Panchaud, at Paris.... ib.
LXVIII. To J- H- S-, Esq....... ib.
LXIX. To Mr. Panchaud, at Paris... 366
LXX. To Mr. S.............  ib.
LXXI. To Mr. Panchaud, at Paris... 367
LXXII. To Mr. Foley, at Paris...... ib.
LXXIII. To Mr. Panchaud......... ib.
LXXIV. From Ignatius Sancho to Mr.
Sterne............. 368
LXXV. From Mr. Sterne to Ignatius
Sancho.............. ib.
LXXVI. To Mr. W-........369
LXXVII. To Mr. Panchaud, at Paris.. 370
LXXVIII. To Miss Sterne.......... ib
LXXIX. To Mr. Panchaud, at Paris... 371
LXXX. To Eliza..............  ib
LXXXI. To the Same........... ib
LXXXII. To the Same............ 372
LXXXIII. To the Same........  373
LXXXIV. To the Same........... ib.
LXXXV. To the Same........... 374
LXXXVI. To the Same.....'....... 375
LXXXVII. To the Same.......... 376




416


CONTENTS.


Page
LXXXVIII. To the Same........... 377
LXXXIX. To the Same........... 278
XC. To Miss Sterne.......... 379
XCI. To Lady P-:........ 380
XCII. To Mr. and Mrs. J....... ib.
XCIII. To Ignatius Sancho....... 381
XCIV. To the Earl of S-....... ib.
XCV. To J- D  n, Esq........ 382
XCVI. To J- H- S-, Esq...... ib.
XCVII. To A. L  e, Esq......... ib.
KCVIII. To the Same............ 383
XCIX. To Ignatius Sancho....... 384
C. To Mr. and Mrs. J....... ib.
CI. To Mr. Panchaud, at Paris... ib.
CII. To Mr. and Mrs. J-....... 385
CIII. To J- H- S-, Esq...... ib.
CIV. To Mr. and Mrs. J....... 386
CV. To Miss Sterne.......... 387
CVI. To Sir W -............  ib.
CVII. To the Same............ 388
CVIII. To Mr. Panchaud, at Paris... ib.
CIX. To Mr. and Mrs. J -....... 389
CX. To Mrs. F-     ~........ ib.


lage
CXI. To Mrs. H............ 390
CXII. To Mr. and Mrs. J-....... ib.
CXIII. To Mrs. H-.............   ib
XIV. To A. L-e, Esq........ 391
CXV. To the Earl of -........ ib
CXVI. To his Excellency Sir G. M.... 392
CXVII. To A. L —-e, Esq......... ib.
CXVIII. To J- I — S-, Esq........ 393
CXIX. To Mr. and Mrs J-...... ib.
CXX. To the Same............ 394
CXXI. To the Same............ ib,
CXXII. To the Same...........  ib.
CXXIII. To Dr. Eustace, in America.. 395
CXXIV. To L. S-n, Esq....... in.
CXXV. To Miss Sterne.......... 36
CXXVI. To Mrs. J-...........  ib.
CXXVII. To ******.......... 397
CXXVIII. To the Same............ 398
CXXIX. To ****............  399
IMPROMPTU.............      401
FRAGMENT..........           03
WATCH-COAT........ 40r




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