LI B RARY
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UNIVERSITY
or ILLINOIS
823
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1898
V. 1
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University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign
http://www.archive.org/details/lifeopinionsoftr01ster
THE WORKS OF LAURENCE STERNE
EDITED BY
GEORGE SAINTSBURY
IN SIX VOLUMES
VOL. I.
TRISTRAM SHANDY
VOL. I.
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ONS of
TRISTRAM SHANDY
Gentleman. '^ % % % % By
LAURENCE STERNE
Edited by GEORGE SAINTSBURY
with
Illustrations by E. J. WHEELER
In three Volumes.
Volume the first.
London (^ J. M. DENT & Co.
Aldine House, Great Eastern Street
Philadelphia J. B. LIPPINCOTT
COMPANY MDcccxcviii.
■i
i
1
i!
^23
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.
Dr. Slop, with a wry face, though without
ANY SUSPICION, READ ALOUD . . Frontispiece
My Uncle Toby .... Page 80
Corporal Trim . , . . ,,142
INTRODUCTION.
IT can hardly be said that Sterne was an unfortunate
person during his lifetime, though he seems to
have thought himself so. His childhood was
indeed a little necessitous, and he died early, and in
debt, after some years of very bad health. But from the
time when he went to Cambridge, things went on the
whole very fairly well with him in respect of fortune ;
his ill-health does not seem to have caused him much
disquiet ; his last ten years gave him fame, flirting,
wandering, and other pleasui'es and diversions to his
heart's content ; and his debts only troubled those he
left behind him. He delighted in his daughter ; he
was able to get rid of his wife, when he was more than
usually fatigafus et aegrotus of her, v/ith singular ease.
During the unknown, or almost unknown, middle of
his life he had friends of the kind most congenial to
him ; and both in his time of preparation and his time
of production in literature, he was able to indulge his
genius in a way by no means common with men of
letters. If his wish to die in a certain manner and
circumstance was only bravado — and borrowed bravado
— still it was granted ; and it is quite certain that to
I. ^'" b
Vlil INTRODUCTION.
him an old age of real illness would have been un-
mitigated torture. Even if we admit the ghastly stories
of the fate of his remains, there was very little reason why
any one should not have anticipated Mr Swinburne's
words on the morrow of Sterne's death and said, " Oh !
brother, the gods were good to you," though even then
he might have said it with a sort of mental reservation
on the question whether Sterne had been very good to
the gods.
Nemesis, for the purpose of adjusting things, played
him the exceptionally savage trick of using the inter-
vention of his idolised daughter. Little or nothing
seems to be known of " Lydia Sterne de Medalle," as
she was pleased to sign herself; "Mrs Medalle," as
her bluff British contemporaries call her. But that
she must have been either a very silly, a very stupid,
or an excessively callous person, appears certain. It
would seem, indeed, to require a combination of the
flightiness and lack of taste which her father too often
displayed, with the stolidity which (from rather unfair
inference through Mrs Shandy) Is sometimes supposed
to have characterised her mother, to prompt or permit a
daughter to publish such a collection of letters as those
which were first given to the world in 1775. Charity,
not unsupported by probability, has trusted that Madame
de Medalle could not read Latin, but she certainly
could read English ; and only an utterly corrupted heart,
or an incurably dense or feather-brained head, could
hide from her the fact that not a few of the English
letters she published were damaging to her father's
character. Her alleged excuse — that her mother, who
was then dead, had desired her, if any letters should be
INTRODUCTION. IX
published under her father's name, to publish these, and
that the " Yorick and Eliza " correspondence had
appeared — is utterly insufficient. For Mrs Sterne, of
whose conduct we know nothing unfavoui'able, and one
or two things decidedly to her credit, could only have
meant "such of these as will put your father in a
favourable light," else she would have published them
herself. Yet though Lydia could, while taking no
editorial trouble whatever, go out of her way to make
a silly missish apology for publishing a passage in which
her charms and merits are celebrated, she seems never
to have given a thought to what she was doing in other
ways. Nor were Sterne's misfortunes in this way over
with the publication of these things ; for the subse-
quently discovered Fourmentelle correspondence sunk
him, with precise judges, a little deeper. No doubt'
Tristram S handy ^ the Sentimental Journey , and the curious
stories or traditions about their author, were not exactly «
calculated to give Sterne a very high reputation with i
grave authorities. But it is these unlucky letters,'
which put him almost hopelessly out of court. Even
the slight relenting of fortune which gave him at last, in
Mr Percy Fitzgerald, a biographer very good-natured,
very indefatigable, and with a natural genius for detect-
ing undiscovered facts and documents, only made matters
worse in some ways. And the consequence is, that it
has become a commonplace and almost a necessity to
make up for praising Sterne's genius by damning his
character. Johnson, while declining to deny him ability,
seems to have been too much disgusted to talk freely
about him ; Scott's natural kindliness, warm admiration
for my Uncle Toby, and total freedom from squeamish
X INTRODUCTION,
prudery, seem yet to have left him ill at case and
tongue-tied in discussing Sterne ; Thackeray, as is
well known, exceeded all measure in denouncing him ;
and his chief recent critical biographer, Mr Traill,
who is probably as free from cant, Britannic or other,
as any man who ever wrote in English, speaks his mind
in the most unsparing fashion.
For my own part, I do not hesitate to say that I do
not think letters of this kind ought to be published at
all ; and though it may seem paradoxical or foolish, I
am by no means sure that, if they are published, they
ought to be admitted as evidence. That which is not
written for the public, is no business of the public's ; and
I never read letters of this kind, published for the first
time, without feeling like an eavesdropper.* Un-
luckily, the evidence furnished by the letters fits in
only too well with that furnished by the published
works, by his favourite cronies and companions, and by
his general reputation, so that " what the prisoner says "
must, no doubt, " be used against him."
It may be doubted whether it was accident or his
usual deliberate fantasticality that made Sterne, in the
well-known summary of his life which (very late in it)
he drew up for his daughter, and which will be found
in the last volume but one of this edition, devote almost
the whole space to his childhood. Perhaps it may be
accounted for, reasonably enough, by supposing that of
his later years he thought his daughter knew quite as
* It is perhaps barely necessary to observe that the parallel
does not extend to a further parallel between republication and
tale-bearing. Once published, the thing is public.
INTRODUCTION. XI
much as he wished her to know, while of the middle
period he had little or nothing to tell. In fact, of the
two earlier divisions we still know very little but what
he has chosen to tell us in one of the most character-
istic and not the least charming excursions of his pen.
Laurence Sterne was, with two sisters, the only " per-
manent child" (to borrow a pleasant phrase of Mr
Traill's) out of a very plentiful but most impermanent
family, borne in the most inconvenient circumstances
possible by Agnes Nuttle or Herbert or Sterne, a widow,
and daughter or stepdaughter of a sutler of our army
in Flanders, to Roger, second son of Simon Sterne of
Elvington, in Yorkshire, who was the third son of Dr
Richard Sterne, Archbishop of York. The Sternes
were of a gentle if not very distinguished family, which,
after being seated in Suffolk, migrated to Notting-
hamshire. After the promotion of the archbishop
(who had been a stout cavalier, as Master of Jesus at
Cambridge, in the bad times), they obtained, as was
fitting, divers establishments by marriage or benefice in
Yorkshire itself. Very little endowment of any kind,
however, fell to the lot of Roger Sterne, who was an
ensign in what ranked later as the 34th regiment.
Laurence, his eldest son, was born at Clonmel, in
L-eland, where his mother's relations lived, and just after
his father's regiment had been disbanded. It was shortly
re-established, however, and became the most *' march-
ing " of all marching corps ; for though its headquarters
were generally in Ireland, it was constantly being ordered
elsewhere, and Roger Sterne saw active service both at
Vigo and Gibraltar. In this latter station he fought a
duel of an extremely Shandean character " about a goose."
XU INTRODUCTION.
He was run through the body and pinned to the wall ;
whereupon, it is said, he requested his antagonist to be so
kind as to wipe the plaster off the sword before pulling
it out of his body. In despite of this thoughtfulness,
however, and of an immediate recovery, the wound
so weakened him that, being ordered to Jamaica, he
took fever and died there in March 1 73 1. As Lawrence
had been born on November 24, 17 13, he was nearly
eighteen ; and the family had meanwhile been increased
by four other children who all died, and a youngest
daughter, Catherine, who, like the eldest, Mary, lived.
Till he was about nine or ten the boy followed the
exceedingly fluctuating fortunes of his family, which he
diversified further on by falling through, not a millrace,
but a going mill. Then he was sent to school at
Halifax, in Yorkshire, and soon after practically adopted
by his cousin Sterne of Elvington, who, when the time
came, sent him to Jesus College at Cambridge, the
family connection with which had begun with his great-
grandfather. He was admitted there on July 6, 1733,
being then nearly twenty, and took his degree of B.A.
in 1736, and that of M.A. in 174O. The only
tradition of his school career is his own story that,
having written his name on the school ceiling, he was
whipped by the usher, but complimented as a " boy of
genius" by the master, who said the name should never
be effaced. This anecdote, as might be expected, has
not escaped the aquafortis of criticism.
We know practically nothing of Sterne's Cambridge
career except the dates above mentioned, the fact of
his being elected first to a sizarship and then as
founder's kin to a scholarship endowed by Archbishop
INTRODUCTION. XUl
Sterne, and the Incident told by himself that he there
contracted his lifelong friendship with a distant relative
and fellow Jesus man, John Hall, or John Hall Steven-
son, of whom more presently. But Sterne had further
reason to acknowledge that his family stood together.
He had no sooner taken his degree, than he was taken
up by a brother of his father's, Jaques Sterne, a great
pluralist in the diocese of York, a very busy and masterful
person, and a strong Whig and Hanoverian. Under his
care, Sterne took deacon's orders In March 1736 at the
hands of the Bishop of Lincoln; and as soon as, two
years later, he had been ordained priest, he was ap-
pointed to the living of Sutton-on-the-Forest, eight
miles from York. The uncle and nephew some years
later quarrelled bitterly — according to the latter's ac-
count, because he would not write *' dirty paragraphs in
the newspapers," being " no party man." That Sterne •
would have been particularly squeamish about what he \
wrote may be doubted ; but it is certain that he shows ■
no partisan spirit anywhere, and very little interest In
politics as such.,' However, for some years his uncle
was certainly his active patron, and obtained for him
two prebends and some other special preferments in
connection with the diocese and chapter of York, so
that he became, as Tristram shows, intimately ac-
quainted with cathedral society there.
It has been a steady rule in the Anglican Church (if
not, as in the Greek, a sine qua non) that when a man
has been provided with a living, he should, if he has
not done so before, provide himself with a wife ; and
Sterne was a very unlikely man to break good custom
in this respect. Very soon at least after his ordination
XIV INTRODUCTION.
he fell In love with Elizabeth Lumley, a young lady of
a good Yorkshire family, and of some little fortune,
which, however, for a time she thought " not enough "
to share with him, but which, as she told him during
a fit of illness, she left to him In her will. On the
strength of two quite unauthenticated and, I believe, not
now traceable portraits seen by this or that person In
printshops or elsewhere, she Is said to have been plain.
Certain expressions in Sterne's letters seem to Imply
that she had a rather exasperatlngly steady and not too
Intelligent will of her own ; and some twenty or five
and twenty years after the marriage, M. Tollot, a
gossiping Frenchman, with French Ideas on the duty
of husbands and wives going separate ways, said that
she wished to have a finger In every pie, and pestered
" the good and agreeable Tristram " with her presence.
But Sterne, despite his reckless confessions of conjugal
indifference, and worse, says nothing serious or even
ill-natured of her ; and one or two traits and sayings of
hers, especially her refusal to listen to a meddlesome
person who wished to tell her tales about " Eliza,"
seem to argue sense and dignity. That In the latter
years she cared little to be with a husband who had
long been " tired and sick " of her is not to her dis-
credit. Their daughter, with the almost Invariable Ill-
luck or Ill-judgment which seems to have attended her,
printed certain letters of this courtship time, though
she gave nothing for many years afterwards. The use
made of these Strephon or Damon blandishments. In
contrast with the expressions used by the writer of his
wife, and of other women, long afterwards, is nerhaps a
little unfair ; but It must be admitted that phough far
y^.^ INTRODUCTION. XV
.^.r
too characteristic and amusing to be omitted, they are
anything but brilliant specimens of their kind. In
particular, Thackeray's bitter fun on the ineffably
lackadaisical passage, " My L. has seen a^.polyanthus
blow in December," is pretty fully justified.'^
If, however, the marriage, which, difficulties being
removed, took place on Easter Monday, March 30,
1 741, did not bring lasting happiness to Sterne, it pro-
bably brought him some at the time, and it certainly
brought him an accession of fortune ; for in addition
to what little money Miss Lumley had, a friend of
hers bestowed the additional living of Stillington on
her husband. These various sources of income must
have made a tolerable revenue, which, after the pub-
lication of Tristram, was further supplemented by
yet another benefice given him by Lord Falcon-
bridge at Coxwold, a living of no great value, but a
pleasant place of residence. Add to this the profits
of his books in the last eight years of his life, which
were for that day considerable, and it will be seen that,
as has been said above, Sterne might have been much
worse off in this world's goods than he was. He
seems, like other people, to have made some rather
costly experiments in farming ; and his way of life
latterly, what with his own journeys and sojourns in
London, and the long separate residence of his wife
and daughter in France, was expensive. But he com-
plains little of poverty ; and though he died in debt,
much of that debt was due to no fault of his, but to the
burning of the parsonage of Sutton.
It is all the more remarkable in one way, though
the absence of any pressure of want may explain it in
XVI INTRODUCTION.
another, that Sterne's great literary gifts should have
remained so long without finding any kind of literary
expression, unless it was in the newspaper way, in
respect to which he first obliged and afterwards dis-
obliged his uncle. There is, I believe, no dispute about
the fact that he distances, and that by many years,
every other man of letters of anything like his rank —
except Cowper, whose affliction puts him out of
comparison — in the lateness of his fruiting time. All
but a quarter of a century had passed since he took his
degree when Tristram Shandy appeared ; and, putting
sermons aside, the very earliest thing of his known,
The History of a Good Watch Coat (see last volume
of this edition), only antedated Tristram by two years
or rather less. He was no doubt "making himself
all this time ; " but the making must have been an un-
commonly slow process. Nor did he, like a good
many writers, occupy the time in preparing what he
was afterwards to publish, unless in the case of a few
of his sermons. It is positively known uhat Tristram
was written merely as it was published, and the Journey
likewise. Nor is even the first by any means a long
book. It is as nearly as possible the same length as
Fielding's Amelia when printed straight on ; and even
then more allowance has to be made, not merely for
its free and audacious plagiarisms, but for its constantly
broken paragraphs, starsj dashes, and other trickeries.
If it were possible to squeeze it up, as one squeezes
a sponge, into the solid texture of an ordinary book,
I doubt whether it would be very much longer than
Joseph Andrenvs.
It will probably be admitted, however, that the
INTRODUCTION. XVll
idiosyncrasy of the writings of Sterne's last and in-
complete decade, even if it be in part only an idiosyn-
crasy of mannerism, is almost great enough to justify
the nearly three decades of Lehrjahre (starting from
his entrance at Cambridge) which preceded it. It is
true that of the actual occupations of these years we
know extremely little — indeed, what we know as dis-
tinguished from what is guesswork and inference is
mostly summed up by Sterne's own current and cur-
vetting pen thus : " I remained near twenty years at
Sutton, doing duty at both places [i.^., Sutton and
Stillington]. I had then very good health. Books,
painting, fiddling, and shooting were my amusements ; "
to which he adds only that he and the squire of Sutton
were not very good friends, but that at Stillington the
Croft family were extremely kind and amiable. From
other sources, including, it is true, his own letters —
though the dates and allusions of these are so uncertain
that they are very doubtful guides — we find that his
chief crony during this period, as during his life, was
the already-mentioned John Hall, who had taken to
the name of Stevenson, and was master of Skelton
Castle, a very old and curious house on the border of
the Cleveland moors, not far from the town of Guis-
borough. The master of "Crazy" Castle — he liked
to give his house this name, which he afterwards used
in entitling his book of Cra%y Tales — his ways and his
library, have usually been charged with debauching
Sterne's innocent mind, which I should imagine lent
itself tqr that process in a most docile and morigerant
fashion^ but whether this was the case or not, it is
clear that Stevenson bore no very good reputation.
Xvm INTRODUCTION.
It is not certain, but was asserted, that he had been
a monk of Medmenham. He gathered about him at
Skelton a society which, though no such imputations
were made on it as on that of Wilkes and Dashwood,
was of a pretty loose kind ; he was a humourist, both in
the old and the modern sense ; and his Crazy Tales were,
if not very mad, rather sad and bad exercises of the
imagination.
Amid all this dream- and guess- work, almost the
only solid facts in Sterne's life are the births of two
daughters, one in 1745, and the other two years later.
Both were christened Lydia ; the first died soon after
she was born, the second lived to be the darling of both
her parents, the object of the most respectable emotions
of Sterne's life, the wife of an unknown Frenchman,
M. de Medalle, and, as has been said, the probably
unwitting destroyer of her father's last chance of repu-
tation.
Our exuberant nescience in matters Sternian extends
up to the very publication of Tristram^ as far as the de-
termining causes of its production are concerned. It is
true that in passages of the letters Sterne seems to say
that his experiment with the pen was prompted by a
desire to make good some losses in farming, and else-
where that he was tired of employing his brains for
other people's advantage, as he had done for some years
for an ungrateful person, that is to say, his uncle. This
last passage was written just before Tristram came out ;
but at no time was Sterne a very trustworthy reporter
of his own motives, and it would seem that the quarrel
with his uncle must have been a good deal earlier. At
any rate, the year 1759 seems to have been spent in
INTRODUCTION. XIX
writing the first two volumes of the book, and The Life
and Opinions of Tristram Shandy, Gent., pubHshed by-
John Hinxham, Stonegate, York, but obtainable also
from divers London booksellers, appeared on the ist of
January 1 760. I wish Sterne had thought of keeping
it till the 1st of April, which he would probably then
have done.
The comparatively short last scenes of his life were
as busy and varied as his long middle course had
been outwardly monotonous. Although his book was
nominally published at York, he had gone up to London
to superintend arrangements for its sale there, perhaps
not without a hope of triumph. If so, Fortune chose
not to play him her usual tricks. In York, the ex-
treme personaHty of the book excited interest of a two-
fold and dubious kind ; but, to play on some words of
Dryden's, "London liked grossly" and swallowed
Tristram Shandy whole with singular avidity. Its
author came to town just in time to enjoy the results of
this, and was one of the chief lions of the season of
1760, a position which he enjoyed with a childish
frankness that is not the least pleasant thing in his
history. One, probably of the least important, though
by accident one of the best known of his innumerable
flirtations, with a Miss Fourmentelle, was apparently
quenched by this distraction when it was on the point
of going such lengths that the lady had actually come
up alone to London to meet Sterne there. He was
introduced to persons as different as Garrick and War-
burton, from the latter of whom he received, in rather
mysterious circumstances, a present of money. He
haunted Ministers and Knights of the Garter ; he was
XX INTRODUCTION.
overwhelmed with invitations and callers ; and, as has
been said, he received one very solid present in the
shape of the living of Coxwold. Tristram went into
a second edition rapidly ; its author was enabled to
announce a collection of " Sermons by Mr Yorick" in
April ; and he went to his new living in the early
summer, determined to set to work vigorously on more
of the work that had been so fortunate. By the end
of the year he was ready with two more volumes, again
came up to town, and again, v/hen vols. Hi. and iv.
had appeared, at the end of January 1761, was besieged
by admirers. For these two he received ,^380 from
Dodsley, who had fought shy of the book earlier.
They were quite as successful as the first pair ; and
again Sterne stayed all the spring and earlier summer in
London, returning to Yorkshire to make more Shandy ^
in the autumn. He was still quicker over the third j
batch, and it was pubHshed in December 1761, when/
he was again in town, but he now meditated a longer!
flight. His health had been really declining, and he
obtained leave from the archbishop for a year certain,
and perhaps two, that he might go to the south of
France. He was warmly received in Paris, where his
work had obtained a popularity which it has never
wholly lost, and the framework of fact (including the
passport difficulties) for the Sentimental Journey ^ as well
as for the seventh volume of Tristram, was laid during
the spring. His plans were now changed, it being de-
termined that his wife and daughter (who had inherited
his constitution) should join him. They did so after
some difficulties, and the consumptive novelist, having
spent all the winter in one of the worst climates in
INTRODUCTION. XXI
Europe, that of the French capital, started with his
family in the torrid heats of July for Toulouse, where
at last they were established about the middle of
August.
Toulouse became Sterne's abode for nearly a year,
his headquarters for a somewhat longer period, and the
home of his wife and daughter, with migrations to Bag-
neres, Montpellier, and a great many other places in
France, for about five years. He himself — he had
been ill at Toulouse, and worse at Montpellier — reached
England again (after a short stay in Paris) during the
early summer of T764. Nor was it tiil January 1765 I
that the seventh and eighth volumes of Tristram ap-
peared. As usual Sterne went to town to receive the j
congratulations of the public, which seem to have been
fairly hearty ; for though the instalment immediately
preceding had not been an entire success, the longer
interval had now had its effect not merely on the art
and materials of the caterer, but on the appetite of his
guests. He followed this up with two more volumes
of Sermons, of a much more characteristic kind than his
earlier venture in this way, and published partly by sub-
scription. These, however, were not actually issued
till 1766. Meanwhile, in October 1765, Sterne had
set out for his second attempt in travel on the Continent,
which was to supply the remaining material for the
Sentimental Journey^ and to be prolonged as far as
Naples. Little is known of his winter stay at that
city and in Rome. On his way homeward he met
his wife and daughter in Franche-Comte, but at Mrs
Sterne's request left them there, and went on alone to
Coxwold.
XXll INTRODUCTION.
He reached England in extremely bad health, and
never left it again ; but he had still nearly two years of
fairly well filled life to run. The ninth, or last volume
o£ Tristram occupied him during the autumn of 1766,
and was produced with the invariable accompaniment
of its author's appearance in London during January
1767. This visit, which lasted till May, saw the
flirtation with " Eliza '' Draper, the young wife of an
Indian official, who was at home for her health, an
affair which exalted Sterne in the eyes of eighteenth-
century sensibility, especially in France, about as much
as it has depressed him in the eyes, not merely of the
propriety, not merely of the common sense, but of the
romance of later times. He was very ill when he
got back to Coxwold, but recovered, and in October
was joined by his wife and daughter. Even then,
however, the community was a very temporary and
divided one, for he took a house for them at York,
and they were not to stay in England beyond the
spring. He himself finished what we have of the
Sentimental Journey^ and went to London with it, where
it was published rather later than usual, on the 27th
February 1768. Three weeks later its author, at his
; lodgings at 41 New Bond Street, in the presence only of
1 a hired nurse and a footman, who had been sent by some
of his friends to inquire after him, took a journey other
than sentimental, and so far unreported. Some odd
but not very well authenticated stories gathered round
his death, which occurred on Friday the 1 8th March.
It was said, and it is probable enough, that his gold
sleeve-links were stolen by his landlady. After his
flmeral, scantily attended, at the burying-ground of St
INTRODUCTION. XXIU
George's, Hanover Square, opposite Hyde Park (which
used to be known by the squalid brown of its unre-
stored, and is now made more hideous by the new
bedizened red of its restored chapel), his body is said
to have been snatched by resurrection men. And the
myth is rounded off by the addition that the remains,
having been sold to the professor of anatomy at
Cambridge, were dissected there in public, one of the
spectators, a friend of Sterne's, recognising the face
too late, and fainting.
His affairs, which had never been managed in a very
business-Hke manner, were in considerable disorder.
Some years before, the carelessness of his curate had
caused or allowed the parsonage at Sutton to be burnt
to the ground ; and Sterne, besides losing valuable effects
of his own, was of course liable for the rebuilding.
He managed to put this off till his death, after which
his widow and administratrix was sued for dilapida-
tions. These, as she was in very poor circumstances,
had to be compounded for sixty pounds only, but
they probably ranked for a much larger sum in the
^"'iicx) at which Sterne's indebtedness was reckoned.
His widow had a little money of her own : ^800 was
collected for her and her daughter at York races ;
there must have been profits from the copyrights ; and a
fresh collection of Sermons was issued by subscription.
But though very little is known about the pair, they are
said to have been ill off. They applied first to Wilkes
and then to Stevenson to write a life of Sterne to prefix
to his Works, but neither complied. Mr Fitzgerald,
who seldom deserves the curse laid on those who
use harsh judgment, is very severe on both for this.
XXIV INTRODUCTION.
Yet surely each, considering his own reputation, must
have felt that he was the last person to set Sterne right
with the stricter part of society, and that to write a
" Crazy " or " Shandean " life of him would be a
cruel crime. It is not known exactly when Lydia
married, or when either she or her mother died. Mrs
Sterne must have been dead by 1775, the date of the
publication of the letters ; Lydia is said to have perished
in the French Revolution.
jTlBeginning authorship very late in life, having schooled
himself to an intensely artificial method, both in style
and in construction, and not allowed by Fate more
than a few years in which to write at all, Sterne, as_is
natural, displays a great uniformity throughout his worLf
Indeed, it might be said that he has written but one
book, Tristram Shandy. The Sentimental Journey (as to
the relative merits of which, compared with the earlier
and larger work, there is a polemos aspondos between the
Big-endians and the Little-endians of Sternism) is
after all only an expansion of the seventh book of
Tristram, with fiorlture, variations, and new divertise-
ments. The sermon which occurs so early is an actual
sermon of " Yorick's," and a sufficient specimen of his
more serious concionatory vein ; many, if not most of his
letters, might have been twined into Tristram without
being in the least degree more out of place than most of
its actual contents!; And so there is more propriety than
depends upon the mere fact that Tristram Shandy is
the earliest and the largest part of its author's work,
not merely in making an introduction to it serve as an
introduction to the whole of that work, but in making
no extremely scholastic distinction between the specially
INTRODUCTION, XXV
Shandean and the generally Sternian characteristics.
For, indeed, all Sterne is in it more or less eminently ;
and the points about him that are more eminent else-
where, can be conveniently retouched in the special
introductions to the Journey, and to a selection of
Miscellanies, which will give what is most interesting
in the rest.
No less a critic than M. Scherer has given his
sanction to the idea that in Sterne we have a special,
if not even the special, type of the humourist ; and
probably few people who have given no particular
thought or attention to the matter, would refuse to
agree with him. I am myself inclined rather to a
demur, or, at any rate, to a distinction, though few
better things have been written about humour itself
than a passage in M. Scherer's essay on our author.
Sterne has no doubt in a very eminent degree the sense
of contrast, which all the best critics admit to be the
root of humour — the note of the humourist. But he
has it partially, occasionally, and, I should even go so far
as to say, not greatly. The great English humourists, I
take it, are Shakespeare, Swift, Fielding, Thackeray, and
Carlyle. All these — even Fielding, whose eighteenth-
century manner, the contemporary and counterpart of !
Sterne's, cannot hide the truth — apply the humourist :
contrast, the humourist sense of the irony of existence, {
to the great things, the prima et novissima. They see,
and feel, and show the simultaneous sense of Death and
Life, of Love and Loss, of the Finite and the Infinite.
Sterne stops a long way short of this ; les grands sujets
lui sont defendus in another sense than La Bruyere's.
It is scarcely too much to say that his ostentatious pre-
XXVI INTRODUCTION.
ference for the bagatelle was a real, and not in the least
/ affected fact. Nowhere, not in the true pathos of the
famous deathbed letter to Mrs James, not in the, as
it seems to me, by no means wholly true pathos of the
Le Fever episode, does he pierce to "the accepted
hells beneath." He has an unmatched command of
the lesser and lower varieties of the humorous contrast
— over the odd, the petty, the queer, above all, over
what the French untranslatably call the saugrenu. His
forte is the foible ; his cheval de lataille, the hobby-
; horse. If you want to soar into the heights, or plunge
\into the depths of humour, Sterne is not for you. But
if you want what his own generation called a frisk on
middle, itery middle-earth, a hunt in curiosity- shops
(especially of the technically " curious " description), a
peep into all manner of coulisses and behind-scenes of
human nature, a ride on a sort of intellectual switchback,
a view of moral, mental, religious, sentimental dancing
of all the kinds that have delighted man, from the rope
to the skirt, then have with Sterne in any direction he
pleases. He may sometimes a very little disgust you,
but you will seldom have just cause to complain that he
disappoints and deceives.
The Life and Opinions of Tristram Shandy^ Gent,
(which, as it has been excellently observed, is in reality
based on the life of the gent's uncle, and the opinions
of the gent's father), is the largest and in every way the
chief field for these diversions. The apparatus, and, so
far as there can be said to have been one, the object
with which Sterne marked it out and filled it up, are
clear, and even the former must have been clear enough
to anybody of some reading and some intelligence long
INTRODUCTION. XXVll
beforefthe excellent Dr Ferriar, in the spirit of a reverent
iconoclast, set himself to work to point out Sterne's
exact indebtedness to Rabelais, Burton, Beroalde (if
B^eroalde wrote the Moyen de Parvenir), Bruscambille,
and the rest. Of this particular part of the matter I
do not think it necessary to say much. The charge
of plagiarism is usually an excessively idle one ; for
when a man of genius steals, he always makes the thefts
his own ; and when a man steals without genius, the
thefts are mere fairy gold which turns to leaves and
pebbles under his hand. No doubt Sterne " lifted " in
Tristram, and still more in the Sermons, with rather
more freedom and audacity than most men of genius ;
but when we remember that he took Burton's denun-
ciation of the practice and reproduced it (all but in
Burton's very words) as his own, it must be clear to any
one who is not very dull indeed that he was playing
an audacious practical joke. Where he is best, he does
not steal at all, and that is the only point of real im-
portance.
It is somewhat more, I think, the business of the
critic (who is here more especially bound not to look
only at the stop-watch) to note the far more striking
way in which Sterne borrowed, not actual passages
and words, but manner and style. Here, perhaps, we
shall find him accountant for a greater debt ; and here
also we may think that though his genius is indisputable,
he gives more reason to those who should deny him
the highest kind of genius. Beyond doubt not merely
his reading, but his temper and his characteristics of
all kinds, inclined him to the style to which the French
fifteenth and sixteenth centuries gave the name of
XXVUl INTRODUCTION.
fatras'ie^ or pillar-to-post divagation, with more or less
of a covert satiric aim. But if we compare the dealing
of Swift with Cyrano de Bergerac, the dealing of
Fielding with the romance and novel as it existed
before his time, nay, the dealing of Shakespeare with
the Marlowe drama, we ^all note a marked difference
in Sterne's procedure. ^^^ Nobody, even in his own day,
who knew Rabelais at all could fail to detect the almost
servile following of manner in great things and in small
which Tristram displays. No one — a much smaller
designation — who knows the strange, unedifying, but
very far from commonplace book of which, as I have
hinted, I never can quite believe that Beroalde de
Verviile was the author, can fail to detect an even
closer, though a somewhat less obvious and, so to speak,
less verifiable following here.
In another region — the purgatory of all Sterne's com-
mentators— we can trace this corrupt following as dis-
tinctly at least, though it has, I think, been less often
I definitely attributed. Sterne's too celebrated indecency,
lis, with one exception, su'i generis.. No doubt much
Inonsense has been and is talked about " indecency " in
general literature. When it is indulged, as it has been,
for instance, in French of late, it becomes a nuisance of
the most loathsome kind. It is always perhaps better
left alone. But if it be a sin to laugh now and then
frankly at what were once called " gentlemen's stories,"
then not merely many a gallant, noble, and not unwise
gentleman, but I fear not a few ladies, both fair and fine,
are damned, with Shakespeare and Scott and Southey,
with Margaret of Navarre and Marie de Sevigne, to
keep them in countenance, ^^et to merit indulgence,
INTRODUCTION. XXIX
this questionable quality, in addition to being treated as
genius treats, must have certain sub- qualities, or freedoms
from quality, of its ownT^ It must not be brutal and
inhuman, since the quality of humanity is the main
thing that saves it. ^t must not be underhand and
sniggering. It must be frank and jovial, or frank and
passionate^ Perhaps, In some cases, it may be saved,
as Swift's is to a great extent, by the overmastering
pessimism of despair, which enforces its contempt of
man and man's fate_J)y bringing forward these evidences
of his weakness. jJBut Sterne can plead none of these
exemptions. He has neither the frank laughter of
Aristophanes and Rabelais, nor the frank passion of
Catullus and Donne. \ He was incapable of feeling any
sava indignatio whatever. ; The attraction of the thing
for him was, I fear, merefy the attraction of the im-
proper, because it is improper ; because it shocks people,
or makes them blusfi^ or gives them an unholy little
quiver of sordid shaniefaced delectation. (^ His famous
apology of the child playing on the floor and showing
in innocence what is not usually shown, was desperately
unlucky. For his displays are those of educated and
economic un-innocency. And he took this manner,
I am nearly sure, wholly and directly from Voltaire,
who enjoys the unenviable copyright and patent oftt. J
The third characteristic which Sterne took from
others, which dyed his work deeply, and which injured
more than it helped it, was his famous, his unrivalled.
Sensibility or Sentimentallsm. A great deal has been
written about this admired eighteenth-century device,
and there is no space here for discussing it. Suffice it
to say, that although Sterne certainly did not invent it — ■
XXX INTRODUCTION.
it had been Inculcated by two whole generations of
French novelists before him, and had been familiar in
England for half a century — he has the glory, such
as it is, of carrying it to the farthest possible. The
dead donkey and the live donkey, the latter (as I
humbly but proudly join myself to Mr Thackeray and
Mr Traill in thinking) far the finer animal ; Le Fever
and La Fleur ; Maria and EHza ; Uncle Toby's fly,
and poor Mrs Sterne's ante-nuptial polyanthus ; the
stoics that Mr Sterne (with a generous sense that he
was in no danger of that lash) wished to be whipped,
and the critics from whom he would have fled from
Dan to Beersheba to be delivered ; — all the celebrated
persons and passages of his works, all the decorations
and fireworks thereof, are directed mainly to the exhibi-
tion of " Sensibility," once so charming, now, alas !
hooted and contemned of the people !
And now it will be possible to have done with
his foibles, all the rest in Sterne being for praise, with
hardly any mixture of blame. We have seen what he
borrowed from others, mostly to his hurt ; let us now
see what he contributed of his own, almost wholly to
his credit and advantage. He liad, in the first place,
what most writers when they begin almost invariably
and almost inevitably lack, a long and carefully amassed
store, not merely of reading, but of observation of man-
kind. Although his nearly fifty years of life had been
in the ordinary sense uneventful, they had given him
opportunities which he had amply taken. A "son
of the regiment," he had evidently studied with the
greatest and most loving care the ways of an army
which still included a large proportion of Marlborough's
INTRODUCTION. XXXI
veterans ; and it has been constantly and reasonably
held that his chief study had been his father, whom
he evidently adored in a way. Roger Sterne is the
admitted model of my Uncle Toby ; and I at least
have no doubt that he was the original of Mr Shandy
also, for some of the qualities which appear in his son's
character of him are Walter's, not Toby's. It would
have required, perhaps, even greater genius than Sterne
possessed, and an environment less saturated with the
delusive theory of the " ruling passion," to have given
us the mixed and blended temperament instead of
separating it into two gentlemen at once, and making
Walter Shandy all wayward intellect, and Tobias all
gentle goodness. But if it had been done — as Shake-
speare perhaps alone could have done it — we should have
had a greater and more human figure than either. Mr
Shandy would then never have come near, as he does
sometimes, to being a bore ; and my Uncle Toby (if
I may say so without taking the wings of the morning
to flee from the wrath of the extreme Tobyolaters)
would have been saved from the occasional appearance
of being something like a fool.
Still, these two are delightful even in their present
dichotomy ; and Sterne was amply provided by his
genius, working on his experience, with company for
them. His fancy portrait of himself as "Yorick" (his
unfeigned Shakespearianism is one of his best traits)
is a little vague and fantastic ; and that of Eugenius,
which is supposed to represent John Hall Stevenson,
is almost as slight as it is flattering. But Dr Slop,
who is known to have been drawn (with somewhat
unmerciful fidelity in externals, but not at all unkindly
XXXU INTRODUCTION.
when we look deeper) from Dr Burton, a well-known
Jacobite practitioner who had suffered from the
Hanoverian zeal of Yorick's uncle Jaques in the '45,
is a masterpiece. The York dignitaries are veritable
etchings in outline, more Instinct with life and Indivi-
duality than a thousand elaborately painted pictures ; all
the servants, Obadlah, Susannah, Bridget, and the rest,
are the equals of Fielding's, or of Thackeray's domestics ;
and though Tristram himself Is the shadow of a shade,
I confess that I seem to see a vivid portrait in the
three or four strokes which alone give us " my dear,
dear Jenny." Mr Fitzgerald, succumbing to a not un-
natural temptation, considering the close juxtaposition
in time, approximates this to the " dear, dear Kitty "
of the letters to Miss Catherine de Fourmentelle. But
this, taking all things together, would be a rather
serious scandalum damigellarum ; and I do not think it
necessary to Identify, though the traits seem to me to
suit not 111 with the few genuine ones In the letters
about Mrs Sterne herself. That the ''dear, dear"
should be ironical more or less Is quite Shandean.
All these. If not drawn directly from individuals (the
lower exercise), are first generalised and then pre-
cipitated Into individuality from a large observation
(which Is the Infinitely higher and better). I fear I
must except Widow Wadman, save in the sentry-
box scene, from this encomium. But then Widow
Wadman Is not really a real person. She Is partly an
instrument to put my Uncle Toby through some new
motions, and partly a cue to enable Sterne to Indulge
in his worst foible. As for Trim, quis 'vituperavit
Trim ? The lover of the " popish clergywoman " is
INTRODUCTION. XXXlll
simply perfect, with a not much less good heart and a
much better head than his master's, and in his own
degree hardly less of a gentleman.
The manner in which these delightful persons (I
observe with shame that I had omitted the modest
worth of Mrs Shandy, nearly the most delightful of
them all) are introduced to the reader, may have
suffered a little from that corrupt following of which
enough has been said. I can only say, that I would
compound for a good deal more corruption of the same
kind, allied with a good deal less genius. It can
scarcely be doubted that there was a real pre-estab-
lished harmony between Sterne's gifts and the fafrasie
manner ; certainly this manner, if it sometimes ex-
hibited his weaknesses, gave rare opportunities to his
strength. And the same may be said of' his style.
He might certainly have given us less of the typo-
graphical tricks with which he chose to bedizen and
bedaub it, and sometimes in his ultra- Rabelaisian
moods — I do not mean of gauloiserie but of sheer
fooling — we feel the falsetto rather disastrously. It is
constantly forgotten by unfavourable critics of Rabelais
that his extravagances were to a great extent, at any
rate, quite natural outbursts of animal spiritsJi The
Middle Ages, though it has become the fashiDn with
those who know nothing about them to represent them
as ages of gloom, were probably the merriest time of
this world's history ; and the Reformation and the
Renaissance, with their pedantry and their puritanism,
and worst of all their physical science, had not quite
killed the merriment when Rabelais wrote. But
^'IHiough animal spirits still sui'vived in Sterne's day, it
KXXIV INTRODUCTION.
cannot be said that in England, any more than else-
where, there was much genuine merriment of the
honest, childish, mediasval kind, and thus his manner
perpetually jars. Still the style, independently of the
tricks, was excellently suited for the work. It is a
moot point how far the extremely loose and ungirt
character of this style, which sometimes, and indeed
often, reaches sheer slovenliness and solecism, was in-
tentional. I think myself that it was nearly as de-
liberate as the asterisks, and the black and marbled
pages. We know from the Sermons that Sterne could
write carefully enough when he chose, and we know
from the MS. of the Journey that he corrected sedu-
lously. Nor is it likely that he had the excuse of
hurry. The shortest time that he ever took over one
of his two-volume batches was more than six months ;
and looking at the practice, not of miracles of industry
and facility like Scott, but of rather dilatory writers
like Thackeray, one would think that the quantity
(which is not more than a couple of hundred pages of
one of these present volumes) might be written in little
more than six weeks. At any rate, the style, conversa-
tional, unpretentious, too easy to be jerky, and yet too
broken to be sustained, suits subject and scheme as
few others could.
But there is perhaps little need to say more about a
book which, though some say that few read it through
nowadays, is thoroughly well known in outline and in
its salient passages, and which will pretty certainly lay
hold of all fit readers as soon as they take to it. Of
its writer a very little more may perhaps be said, all the
INTRODUCTION. XXXV
more so because those who, not understanding critical ad-
miration, think that biographers and editors ought not
only to be just and a little kind, but extravagantly-
partial to their subjects, may conceive that I have been
a little unjust, or, at any rate, a little unkind to Sterne.
If so, they have not read his own extremely ingenious,
and in general, if not in particular, very sound attack on
the adage de mortuis. But if not nil n'tst, there is yet
very much bonum to be said of Sterne. He was not
merely endowed with a singular and essential genius ;
he was not merely the representative and mouthpiece, in
a way hardly surpassed by any one, of a certain way of
thought and feeling more or less peculiar to his time.
These were his merits, his very great merits as a
writer. But he had others, and great, if not very
great ones, as a man. Though never rich, he seems
to have been free from the fault of parsimony ; and
albeit he died in debt, not deeply tainted with that of
extravagance in money matters. For most of his later
expenditure was on others, and he might justly calcu-
late on his pen paying, and more than paying, his shot.
Little love as there was lost between him and his wife,
he always took the greatest care to provide for her
wants in the rather costly severance of their establish-
ments, and never even in his most indiscreet moments
hints a grumble at her expenditure, a vice of which some
people of much higher general reputation have been
known to be guilty. Though he was certainly pleased
at the attentions of" the great," I do not know that there
is any just cause for accusing him of truckling to, or
fawning on them beyond the custom and courtesy of
the time. For all his reckless humour, there was no
XXXVl INTRODUCTION.
ill-nature in him. His worst enemies have admitted
that his affection for his daughter was very pretty and
quite unaffected ; and his letters to and of Mrs James
show that he could think of a woman nobly and whole-
somely as a friend, for all his ignoble and unwholesome
ways of thought in regard to the sex. If it had not
been for the cruel indiscretion of his Lydia (which,
however, has something of the old virtue of conveying
the balm as well as the sting), he would probably have
been much better thought of than he is. And consider-
ing the delightful books here once more presented, I
think we may consent to forgive the faults which, after
all, were mainly his own business, for the merits by
which we so largely benefit, and for which he reaped
no over-bounteous guerdon.
r *
*
The text ivhicb has leen here adopted is that of
the ten-volume edition^ Jirst printed in 1781, and re-
printed several times before the end of the century, tuhich is
as near as anything to the " standard^' Sterne. It seems,
hrmtever, to have had no competent editing ; and the re-
numbering of the chapters to suit the four volumes, in
nvhich Tristram ivas printed, completely upsets the
original and important division into nine volumes, or
boohs, tuhich has here, as in some other editions, been
restored. Another piece of thoughtlessness nvas that
of sticking the Dedication, which originally came between
the eighth and ninth volumes, or books, at the beginning
of the fourth volume as reprinted, thereby making
nonsense or puzzle of Sterne's joke about a priori. //
should be observed that the Dedication to Pitt, which
here leads off, was not prefixed till the second edition
of the original, and that sometimes in the last-century
editions it appears displaced at a later spot. No attempt
has been made to correct any oddities of spelling that
are not clearly mere misprints ; and the black and marbled
pages, isfc, which diversify the original, have been care-
fully retained.
THE
LIFE AND OPINIONS
OF
TRISTRAM SHANDY,
GENTLEMAN.
TapdffaeL rois 'AyOpdjirovs ov to, UpdyfiaTaf
'AXXd TO. irepl tCjv UpayfidTUv Aoy/iara.
TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE
Mr PITT.
SIR,
NEVER poor Wight of a Dedicator had less hopes
from his Dedication, than I have from this of
mine ; for it is written in a bye corner of the king-
dom, and in a retir'd thatch' d house, where I Hve in
a constant endeavour to fence against the infirmities
of ill health, and other evils of life, by mirth ; being
firmly persuaded that every time a man smiles, but
much more so, when he laughs, it adds something to
this Fragment of Life.
I humbly beg. Sir, that you will honour this book,
by taking it (not under your Protection, it
must protect itself, but) into the country with
you ; where, if I am ever told, it has made you smile ;
3
4 DEDICATION.
or can conceive it has beguiled you of one moment's
pain 1 shall think myself as happy as a minister of
state ; perhaps much happier than any one (one
only excepted) that I have read or heard of.
I am, GREAT SIR,
(and what is more to your Honour)
I am, GOOD SIR,
Your Well-wisher, and
most humble Fellow-subject,
THE AUTHOR.
THE
LIFE AND OPINIONS
OF
TRISTRAM SHANDY, Gent.
BOOK I.
Copter t.
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 consider'd 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 humours and dispositions which
were then uppermost; Had they duly weighed and
considered all this, and proceeded accordingly, 1
6 THE LIFE AND OPINIONS
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. — BeHeve 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 tracts and trains you put them into, so that
when they are once set a-going, whether right or
wrong, 'tis not a half-penny matter, — away they go
cluttering like hey-go 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 some-
times shall not be able to drive them off it.
Pray, my Dear, quoth my mother, hai^e you not
forgot to ivind up the clock P Good G — / cried
my father, making an exclamation, but taking care
to moderate his voice at the same time, Did ever
nvoman^ since the creation of the luorld^ interrupt a man
ivith such a silly question ? Pray, what was your father
saying ? Nothing.
Chapter iu
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 ques-
tion at least, — because it scattered and dispersed the
OF TRISTRAM SHANDY. 7
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 scien-
tifick research, he stands confess'd — a Being guarded
and circumscribed with rights. The minutest phi-
losophers, who, by the bye, have the most enlarged
understandings, (their souls being inversely as their
enquiries) shew us incontestably, that the Homunculus
is created by the same hand, — engender'd in the same
course of nature, — endow'd with the same loco-motive
powers and faculties with us : — That he consists as we
do, of skin, hair, fat, flesh, veins, arteries, ligaments,
nerves, cartilages, bones, marrow, brains, glands, geni-
tals, humours, 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, — he may obtain redress ; — in a word,
he has all the claims and rights of humanity, which
Tully, Puff'endorf, or the best ethick writers allow to
arise out of that state 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 mus-
cular strength and virility worn down to a thread ; —
his own animal spirits ruffled beyond 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 to-
gether.— I tremble to think what a foundation had
been laid for a thousand weaknesses both of body
8 THE LIFE AND OPINIONS
and mind, which no skill of the physician or the
philosopher could ever afterwards have set thoroughly
to lights.
(JD^aptcr iiU
TO my uncle Mr Tol^y Shandy do I stand in-
debted for the preceding anecdote, to whom
my father, who was an excellent natural philo-
sopher, 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 remember'd, upon his observing a most un-
accountable obliquity, (as he call'd 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 :-^
Bui alas ! continued he, shaking his head a second
time, and wiping away a tear which was trickling
down his cheeks. My Tristram s misfortunes began nine
months before ever he came into the nvorld.
— My mother, who was sitting by, look'd up, — but
she knew no more than her backside what my father
meant, — but my uncle, Mr Toby Shandy, who had
been often informed of the affair, — understood him
very well.
OF TRISTRAM SHANDY.
Cj^apter tb.
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 humour 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 — and in the end, prove the very thing
which Montaigne dreaded his Essays should turn
out, that is, a book for a parlour- 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 my-
self 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, docs not recommend this fashion
altogether : But that gentleman is speaking only of an
epic poem or a tragedy; — (I forget which,) — besides,
if it was not so, I should beg Mr Horace's pardon ; —
for 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
lO THE LIFE AND OriNIONS
chapter ; for I declare before-hand, '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 publick
for the better clearing up this point.
My father, you must know, who v/as originally a
Turkey merchant, but had left off business for some
years, in order to retire to, and die upon, his paternal
estate in the county of , was, I believe, one of
the most regular men in everything he did, whether 'twas
matter of business, or matter of amusement, that ever
lived. As a small specimen of this extreme exactness
of his, to which he was in truth a slave, — he had made
it a rule for many years of his life, — on the first Sunday-
night of every month throughout the whole year, — as
certain as ever the Sunday-night came, to wind up
a large house-clock, which we had standing on the back-
stairs head, with his own hands : — And being some-
where between fifty and sixty years of age at the time
I have been speaking of, — he had likewise gradually
brought some other little family concernments to the
same period, in order, as he would often say to my
uncle Toby, to get them all out of the way at one time,
and be no more plagued and pestered with them the
rest of the month.
It was attended but with one misfortune, which, in
a great measure, fell upon myself, and the effects of
which I fear I shall carry with me to my grave ; namely,
that from an unhappy association of ideas, which have
no connection in nature, it so fell out at length, that my
OF TRISTRAM SHANDY. I I
poor mother could never hear the said clock wound up,
but the thoughts of some other things unavoidably
popped into her head — ^ vice versa : Which
strange combination of ideas, the sagacious Loclie, who
certainly understood the nature of these things better
than most men, affirms to have produced more wry
actions than all other sources of prejudice whatso-
ever. ._^
But this by the bye.
Now it appears by a memorandum in my father's
pocket-book, which now lies upon the table, " That on
Lady-day, which was on the 25th of the same month
in which I date my geniture, my father set out upon
his journey to London, with my eldest brother Bobby,
to fix him at JVestm'inster school ; " and, as it appears
from the same authority, " That he did not get down
to his wife and family till the second week in May follov/-
ing," — it brings the thing almost to a certainty. How-
ever, what follows in the beginning of the next chapter,
puts it beyond all possibility of doubt.
But pray. Sir, What was your father doing
all December, January, and February ? Why,
Madam, — he was all that time afflicted with a Sciatica.
ON the fifth day ol November, 1718, which to the
asra fixed on, was as near nine kalendar months
as any husband could in reason have expected,
— was I Tristram Shandy, Gentleman, brought forth
into this scurvy and disasterous world of ours. 1
wish I had been born in the Moon, or in any of the
12 THE LIFE AND OPINIONS
planets, (except Jupiter or Saturn^ because I never
could bear cold weather) for it could not well have
fared worse with me in any of them (though I will not
answer for Venus) than it has in this vile, dirty planet
of ours, — which, o' my conscience, with reverence be
it spoken, I take to be made up of the shreds and
clippings of the rest ; not but the planet is well
enough, provided a man could be born in it to a great
title or to a great estate ; or could any how contrive
to be called up to publick charges, and employments of
dignity or power ; but that is not my case ; ^and
therefore every man will speak of the fair as his own
market has gone in it ; for which cause I affirm
it over again to be one of the vilest worlds that ever
was made ; — for I can truly say, that from the first hour
I drew my breath in it, to this, that I can now scarce
draw it at all, for an asthma I got in seating against the
wind in Flanders ; — I have been the continual sport of
what the world calls Fortune ; and though I will not
wrong her by saying, She has ever made me feel the
weight of any great or signal evil ; --yet with all the
good temper in the world, I affirm it of her, that in
every stage of my life, and at every turn and corner
where she could get fairly at me, the ungracious duchess
has pelted me with a set of as pitiful misadventures and
cross accidents as ever small Hero sustained.
IN the beginning of the last chapter, I informed you
exactly ivhen I was born ; but I did not inform
you honv. 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
OF TRISTRAM SHANDY. , 1 3
not have been proper to have let you Into too many cir-
cumstances 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. — 0 diem praclarum I — 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 out — bear 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.
IN the same village where my father and my mother
dwelt, dwelt also a thin, upright, motherly, 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 darrie
Nature, — had acquired, in her way, no small degree
of reputation in the world : by which word ivorld^
14 THE LIFE AND OPINIONS
need I in this place inform your worship, 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 sup-
posed 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 deport-
ment,— 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
never 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 in-
structed 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 under-
took it ; and having great influence over the female
part of the parish, she found no difliculty in effecting
it to the utmost of her wishes. In truth, the parson
join'd 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 chear fully paid the
OF TRISTRAM SHANDY. 1 5
fees for the ordinary's licence himself, amounting in
the whole, to the sum of eighteen shillings and four
pence ; so that betwixt them both, the good woman
was fully invested in the real and corporal possession
of her office, together with all its rights, members, and
appurtenances ivhatsoever.
These last words, you must know, were not according
to the old form in which such licences, faculties, and
powers usually ran, which in like cases had heretofore
been granted to the sisterhood. But it was according
to a neat Formula oi D'ldius his own devising, who having
a particular turn for taking to pieces, and new framing
over again, all kind of instruments in that way, not only
hit upon this dainty amendment, but coaxed many of the
old licensed matrons in the neighbourhood, to open their
faculties afresh, in order to have this wham- wham of his
inserted.
I own I never could envy D'ldius in these kinds of
fancies of his : — But every man to his own taste. — Did
not Dr Kunastroh'ius, 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 had 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 or me to get up
behind him, — piay, Sir, what have either you or I to
do with it ?
1 6 THE LIFE AND OPINIONS
CHpt^t: iJtii.
— De gustihus non est disputandum ; — that is, there is
no disputing against Hobby-Horses ; 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
fidler and painter, according as the fly stings : — Be it
known to you, that I keep a couple of pads myself, upon
which, in their turns, (nor do I care who knows it) I
frequently ride out and take the air; — though some-
times, to my shame be it spoken, I take somewhat longer
journies 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 I 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, O, P, Q,
and so on, all of a row, mounted upon their several
horses ; — some with large stirrups, getting on in a more
grave and sober pace ; others on the contrary, tucked
up to their very chins, with whips across their mouths,
scouring and scampering it away like so many little
party-coloured 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 without 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.
OF TRISTRAM SHANDY. 1 7
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
T see one born for great actions, and what is still more
for his honour, whose nature ever inclines him to good
ones ; — when I behold such a one, my Lord, like your-
self, 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 pre-
scribed 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 his 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 there is
occasion for it, and I will add, to the best purposes too.
I have the honour to be,
« My Lord,
Tour Lordship's most obedienty
and most devoted,
and most humble servant,
Tristram Shandy."
1 8 THE LIFE AND OPINIONS
1 SOLEMNLY declare to all mankind, that the above
dedication was made for no one Prince, Prelate,
Pope, or Potentate, — Duke, Marquis, Earl, Vis-
count, or Baron, of this, or an}'- other Realm in Chris-
tendom ; 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 labour 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 bringing 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, and
whom the above will suit, (for by the 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 colouring
transparent, — the drawing not amiss ; — or to speak more
OF TRISTRAM SHANDY. 1 9
like a man of science, — and measure my piece in the
painter's scale, divided into 20, — I believe, my Lord,
the outlines will turn out as 1 2, — the composition as 9, —
the colouring as 6, — the expression 13 and a half, — and
the design, — if I may be allowed, my Lord, to under-
stand 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 gustlbus non est disputandum, and what-
ever else in this book relates to Hobby-Horses, 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 CANom and Miss
Cunegund's afl^airs, — take Tristram Shandfs under thy
protection also.
20 THE LIFE AND OPINIONS
CHpter p.
WHATEVER degree of small merit the act of
benignity in favour 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 gentle-
woman, 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 to some share
of it, — if not to a full half of whatever honour was
due to it.
The world at that time was pleased to determine
the matter otherwise.
Lay down the book, and I will allow you half a
day to give a probable guess at the grounds of this
procedure.
Be it known then, that, for about five years before
the date of the midwife's licence, of which you have
had so circumstantial an account, — the parson we have
to do with had made himself a country-talk by a breach
of all decorum, which he had committed against him-
self, his station, and his office ; — and that was in never
appearing better, or otherwise mounted, than upon a lean,
sorry, jack-ass of a horse, value about one pound fifteen
shillings ; who, to shorten all description of him, was
full brother to Ros'inante, as far as similitude congenial
could make him ; for he answered his description
to a hair-breadth in every thing, — except that I do
not remember 'tis any where said, that Rosinante was
broken-winded ; and that, moreover, Ros'inante^ as is
OF TRISTRAM SHANDY. 21
the happiness of most Spanish horses, fat or lean, —
was undoubtedly a horse at all points.
I know very well that the Hero's horse was a horse
of chaste deportment, which may have given grounds
for the contrary opinion : But it is as certain at the
same time, that Ros'inante s continency (as may be de-
monstrated from the adventure of theTanguesian carriers)
proceeded from no bodily defect or cause whatsoever,
but from the temperance and orderly current of his
blood. — And let me tell you. Madam, there is a great
deal of very good chastity in the world, in behalf of
which you could not say more for your life.
Let that be as it may, as my purpose is to do exact
justice to every creature brought upon the stage of this
dramatic work, — I could not stifle this distinction in
favour of Don Quixote s horse ; in all other points,
the parson's horse, I say, was just such another, — for
he was as lean, and as lank, and as sorry a jade, as
Humility herself could have bestrided.
In the estimation of here and there a man of weak
judgment, it was greatly in the parson's power to have
helped the figure of this horse of his, — for he was
master of a very handsome demi-peak'd saddle, quilted
on the seat with green plush, garnished with a double
row of silver-headed studs, and a noble pair of shining
brass stirrups, with a housing altogether suitable, of
grey superfine cloth, with an edging of black lace,
terminating in a deep, black, silk fringe, poudre d^or, —
all which he had purchased in the pride and prime of
his life, together with a grand embossed bridle, orna-
mented at all points as it should be. But not caring
to banter his beast, he had hung all these up behind
his study door : — and, in lieu of them, had seriously
befitted him with just such a bridle and such a saddle,
as the figure and value of such a steed might well and
truly deserve. x
2 2 THE LIFE AND OPINIONS
In the several sallies about his parish, and in the
neighbouring visits to the gentry who lived around
him, — you will easily comprehend, that the parson, so
appointed, would both hear and see enough to keep his
philosophy from rusting. To speak the truth, he never
could enter a village, but he caught the attention of both
old and young. Labour stood still as he pass'd
the bucket hung suspended in the middle of the well,
the spinning-wheel forgot its round, even
chuck-farthing and shuffle-cap themselves stood gaping
till he had got out of sight ; and as his movement was
not of the quickest, he had generally time enough upon
his hands to make his observations, — to hear the groans
of the serious, — and the laughter of the light-hearted ;
— all which he bore with excellent tranquillity. — His
character was, — he loved a jest in his heart — and as he
saw hihiself in the true point of ridicule, he would say
he could not be angry with others for seeing him in a
light, in which he so strongly saw himself: So that to
his friends, who knew his foible was not the love of
money, and who therefore made the less scruple in
bantering the extravagance of his humour, — instead of
giving the true cause, — he chose rather to join in the
laugh against himself ; and as he never carried one single
ounce of flesh upon his own bones, being altogether as
spare a figure as his beast, — he would sometimes insist
upon it, that the horse was as good as the rider deserved ;
— that they were, centaur-Uke, — ^both of a piece. At
other times, and in other moods, when his spirits were
above the temptation of false wit, — he would 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.
OF TRISTRAM SHANDY. 23
At different times he would give fifty humorous and
apposite reasons for riding a meek- spirited jade of a
broken-winded horse, preferably to one of mettle ; —
for on such a one he could sit mechanically, and meditate
as delightfully de vanltate mundi et fug a saculi^ as with
the advantage of a death's-head before him ; — that, in
all other 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 breeches, as steadily on the one as in the
other ; — that brisk trotting and slow argumentation, 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 shore, the parson upon such encounters would assign
any cause but the true cause, — and he with-held the
true one, only out of a nicety of temper, because he
thought it did honour 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 county 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 vile 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
he loved his beast, he had never a heart to refuse him ;
24 THE LIFE AND OPINIONS
the upshot of which was generally this, that his horse
was either clapp'd, or spavin'd, or greaz'd ; — or he was
twitter-bon'd, or broken- winded, 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,
communihus ann'ts, I would leave to a special jury of
sufferers in the same traffick, to determine ; — but let
it be what it would, the honest gentleman bore it for
many years without a murmur, till at length, by re-
peated 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 ex-
pences, 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 com-
fortless scenes he was hourly called forth to visit,
where poverty, and sickness, and affliction dwelt to-
gether.
For these reasons he resolved to discontinue the
expence ; 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 con-
tent to ride the last poor devil, such as they had made
OF TRISTRAM SHANDY. 25
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 chearfully 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, he had a
spirit above it ; choosing rather to bear the contempt
of his enemies, and the laughter of his friends, than
undergo the pain of telling a story, which might seem
a panegyrick 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
Manchdy 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 shew 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 it out, — 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 expences of the ordinary's
licence 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 destruc-
tion, were known and distinctly remembered. — The
story ran like wild-fire — " 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 expence of the licence, ten times told,, the
very first year : — So that every body was left to judge
what were his views in this act of charity."
26 THE LIFE AND OPINIONS
What were his views in this, and in every other
action of his Hfe, — 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 same 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 thro' 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 with-
out 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 will go on
with the midwife.
Chapter vu
YORICK 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
OF TRISTRAM SHANDY. 2^
been exactly so spelt for near, 1 was within an
ace of saying nine hundred years ; but I would not
shake my credit in telling an improbable truth, how-
ever indisputable in itself; and therefore I shall
content myself with only saying It had been
exactly so spelt, without the least variation or transpo-
sition of a single letter, tor I do not know how long ;
which is more than I would venture to say of one 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 temptation has
wrought. But a villainous affair it is, and will one day
so blend and confound us altogether, 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 Torick^s 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 reign of Hor'wendillus, king of Denmark,
in whose court, it seems, an ancestor of this Mr
Tor'icli s, and from whom he was lineally descended, held
a considerable post to the day of his death. Of what
nature this considerable post was, this record saith not ;
— It only adds. That, for near two centuries, it had
been totally abolished, as altogether unnecessary, not
only in that court, but in every other court of the
Christian world.
It has often come Into my head, that this post could
be no other than that of the king's chief Jester ; — and
that Hamlet' s Toricky in our Shakespeare, many of whose
28 THE LIFE AND OPINIONS
plays, you know, are founded upon authenticated facts,
was certainly the very man.
I have not the time to look Into Saxo-Grammaticus' s
Danish history, to know the certainty of this ; — but if
you have leisure, and can easily get at the book, you
may do it full as well yourself.
I had just time, in my travels through Denmark
with Mr Noddy s eldest son, whom, in the year 174I,
I accompanied as governor, riding along with him at a
prodigious rate thro' most parts of Europe, and of which
original journey performed by us two, a most delect-
able narrative will be given In the progress of this work ;
I had just time, I say, and that was all, to prove the
truth of an observation made by a long sojourner In
that country ; namely, *' That nature was neither
very lavish, nor was she very stingy in her gifts of
genius and capacity to its Inhabitants ; — but, like a dis-
creet parent, was moderately kind to them all ; observ-
ing such an equal tenor in the distribution of her
favours, as to bring them, in those points, pretty near
to a level with each other ; so that you will meet with
few instances In that kingdom of refined parts ; but a
great deal of good plain houshold understanding amongst
all ranks of people, of which every body has a share ; "
which is, I think, very right.
With us, you see, the case Is quite different : — we
are all ups and downs In this matter ; — you are a great
genius ; — or 'tis fifty to one, Sir, you are a great dunce
and a blockhead ; — not that there is a total want of
intermediate steps, — no, — we are not so irregular as
that comes to ; — but the two extremes are more common,
and in a greater degree in this unsettled island, where
nature, in her gifts and dispositions of this kind. Is
most whimsical and capricious ; fortune herself not
being more so in the bequest of her goods and chattels
than she.
OF TRISTRAM SHANDY. 29
This is all that ever staggered my faith in regard to
I'oricFs extraction, who, by what I can remember of
him, and by all the accounts I could ever get of him,
seemed not to have had one single drop of Danish blood
in his whole crasis ; in nine hundred years, it might
possibly have all run out : 1 will not philosophize
one moment with you about it ; for happen how it would,
the fact was this : — That instead of that cold phlegm
and exact regularity of sense and humours, you would
have looked for, in one so extracted ; — he was, on
the contrary, as mercurial and sublimated a composition,
— as heteroclite a creature in all his declensions ; — with
as much life and whim, and gaite de cceur about him,
as the kindliest cHmate could have engendered and put
together. With all this sail, poor Torick carried not
one ounce of ballast ; he was utterly unpractised in
the world ; and, at the age of twenty- six, knew just
about as well how to steer his course in it, as a romp-
ing, unsuspicious girl of thirteen : So that upon his first
setting out, the brisk gale of his spirits, as you will
imagine, ran him foul ten times in a day of somebody's
tackling ; and as the grave and more slow-paced were
oftenest in his way, you may likewise imagine,
'twas with such he had generally the ill luck to get the
most entangled. For aught I know there might be
some mixture of unlucky wit at the bottom of such
Fracas : For, to speak the truth, Yor'ick had an in-
vincible dislike and opposition in his nature to gravity ;
— not to gravity as such ; — for where gravity was
wanted, he would be the most grave or serious of
mortal men for days and weeks together ; — but he was
an enemy to the affectation of it, and declared open
war against it, only as it appeared a cloak for ignorance,
or for folly : and then, whenever it fell in his way, how-
ever sheltered and protected, he seldom gave it much
quarter.
30 THE LIFE AND OPINIONS
Sometimes, in his wild way of talking, he would say,
that Gravity was an errant scoundrel, and he would add,
— of the most dangerous kind too, — because a sly one ;
and that he verily believed, more honest, well-meaning
people were bubbled out of their goods and money by
it in one twelve-month, than by pocket-picking and
shop-lifting in seven. In the naked temper which a
merry heart discovered, he would say, there was no
danger, — but to itself: — whereas the very essence of
gravity was design, and consequently deceit ; — 'twas a
taught trick to gain credit of the world for more sense
and knowledge than a man was worth ; and that, with
all its pretensions, — it was no better, but often worse,
than what a French wit had long ago defined it, — w'z.
A mysterious carriage of the body to cover the defects of
the mind ; — which definition of gravity, Torick, with
great imprudence, would say, deserved to be wrote in
letters of gold.
But, in plain truth, he was a man unhackneyed and
unpractised in the world, and was altogether as indis-
creet and foolish on every other subject of discourse
where policy is wont to impress restraint. Torick had
no impression but one, and that was what arose from
the nature of the deed spoken of; which impression he
would usually translate into plain English without any
periphrasis ; — and too oft without much distinction
of either person, time, or place ; — so that when men-
tion was made of a pitiful or an ungenerous proceeding
he never gave himself a moment's time to reflect
who was the hero of the piece, what his station,
or how far he had power to hurt him hereafter ;
but if it was a dirty action, — without more ado, —
The man was a dirty fellow, — and so on. — And as his
comments had usually the ill fate to be terminated
either in a hon mot, or to be enlivened throughout with
some drollery or humour of expression, it gave wings
OF TRISTRAM SHANDY. 3 1
to YoricVs indiscretion. In a word, the' he never
sought, yet, at the same time, as he seldom shunned
occasions of saying what came uppermost, and without
much ceremony ; he had but too many temptations
in hfe, of scattering his wit and his humour, — his gibes
and his jests about him. They were not lost for
want of gathering.
What were the consequences, and what was Tor'ich 'j
catastrophe thereupon, you will read in the next
chapter.
Chapter i\u
THE Mortgager and Mortgagee differ the one
from the other, not more in length of purse,
than the Jester and Jestee do, in that of
memory. But in this the comparison between them
runs, as the scholiasts call it, upon all-four ; which, by
the bye, is upon one or two legs more than some of
the best o^ Homer s can pretend to ; — namely. That the
one raises a sum, and the other a laugh at your expence,
and thinks no more about it. Interest, however, still
runs on in both cases; — the periodical or accidental
payments of it, just serving to keep the memory of the
affair alive ; till, at length, in some evil hour, — pop
comes the creditor upon each, and by demanding
principal upon the spot, together with full interest to
the very day, makes them both feel the full extent of
their obligations.
As the reader (for I hate your ifs) has a thorough
knowledge of human nature, I need not say more to
satisfy him, that my Hero could not go on at this rate
without some slight experience of these incidental
mementos. To speak the truth, he had wantonly
32 THE LIFE AND OPINIONS
involved himself in a multitude of small book-debts of
this stamp, which, notwithstanding Eugentus' s frequent
advice, he too much disregarded ; thinking, that as not
one of them was contracted thro' any malignancy ; —
but, on the contrary, from an honesty of mind, and
a mere jocundity of humour, they would all of them be
cross'd out in course.
Eugenius would never admit this ; and would often
tell him, that one day or other he would certainly be
reckoned with ; and he would often add, in an accent
of sorrowful apprehension, — to the uttermost mite.
To which Toricky with his usual carelessness of heart,
would as often answer with a pshaw ! — and if the sub-
ject was started in the fields, — with a hop, skip, and a
jump at the end of it; but if close pent up in the
social chimney-corner, where the culprit was barri-
cado'd in, with a table and a couple of arm-chairs, and
could not so readily fly off in a tangent, — Eugenius
would then go on with his lecture upon discretion in
words to this purpose, though somewhat better put
together.
Trust me, dear Torlck, this unwary 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 reckons up his friends, his family, his
kindred and allies, and musters up with them the
many recruits which will list under him from a sense
of common danger ; 'tis no extravagant arithmetick
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.
OF TRISTRAM SHANDY. 3^
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 1 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 thou knowest not what it is, either to
provoke the one, or to make merry with the other:
whenever they associate for mutual defence, de-
pend 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 dishonour 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 trampled on. To wind up the last scene
of thy tragedy. Cruelty and Cowardice, twin ruffians,
hired and set on by Malice in the dark, shall strike
together at all thy infirmities and mistakes : The
best of us, my dear lad. He open there, and trust
me, trust me, Torici, ivhen to gratify a private
appetite, it is once resol'ued upon, that an innocent and an
helpless creature shall he sacrificed, Uis an easy matter to
pick up sticks enough from any thicket ivhere it has
strayed, to make afire to offer it up ivith.
Torick scarce ever heard this sad vaticination of his
destiny read over to him, but 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 confede-
racy, with ***** and ***** at the head of it, was
formed before the first prediction of it. — The whole
plan of the attack, just as Eugenius had foreboded, was
put in execution all at once, — with so little mercy on
34 THE LIFE AND OPINIONS
the side of the allies, — and so little suspicion in
Torkkf of what was carrying on against him, — that
when he thought, good easy man ! full surely prefer-
ment was o' ripening, — they had smote his root, and
then he fell, as many a worthy man had fallen before
him.
Tor'tck, 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 Torick breathed his last,
Eugenius stept in with an intent to take his last sight
and last farewell of him. Upon his drawing Torick* s
curtain, and asking how he felt himself, Torick looking
up in his face took hold of his hand, — and after thank-
ing him for the many tokens of his friendship to him,
for which, he said, if it was their fate to meet hereafter,
— 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, Torick, said he.
Torick 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, Torick,
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 wants them ; who knows
xvhat resources are in store, and what the power of
OF TRISTRAM SHANDY. 35
God may yet do for thee ? Tor'ick laid his hand
upon his heart, and gently shook his head ; — For my
part, continued Eugenius, crying bitterly as he uttered
the words, — I declare I know not, Tor'ick, how to
part with thee, and would gladly flatter my hopes,
added Eugenius, chearing up his voice, that there is still
enough left of thee to make a bishop, and that I may
live to see it. 1 beseech thee, Eugenius, quoth
Tor'ickj taking off his night-cap as well as he could
with his left hand, his right being still grasped
close in that of Eugenius, 1 beseech thee to take
a view of my head. — I see nothing that ails it, replied
Eugen'ius. Then, alas ! my friend, said Torich, let me
tell you, that 'tis so bruised and mis-shapened with the
blows which ***** and *****j and some others have
so unhandsomely 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,"
7'orick's last breath was hanging upon his trem-
bling lips ready to depart as he uttered this : yet
still it was uttered wirh something of a Cervantick
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 Shakespeare said of his 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. Tor'ick followed Eugen'ius with his eyes to
the door, — he then closed them, — and never opened
them more.
He lies buried in the corner of his church-yard, in
the parish of , under a plain marble slab, which
his friend Eugenius, by leave of his executors, laid
36 THE LIFE AND OPINIONS
upon his grave, with no more than these three words
ot inscription, serving both for his epitaph and elegy.
Alas, poor YO RICK!
Ten times a day has ToricJi s ghost 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 foot- way crossing the
church-yard close by the side of his grave, — not a
passenger goes by without stopping to cast a look
upon it, — and sighing as he walks on,
Alas, poor YORICK!
OF TRISTRAM SHANDY.
37
38 THE LIFE AND OPINIONS
IT is so long since the reader of this rhapsodical
work has been parted from the midwife, that it is
high time to mention her again to him, merely to
put him in mind that there is such a body still in the
world, and whom, upon the best judgment I can form
upon my own plan at present, — I am going to intro-
duce to him for good and all : But as fresh matter may
be started, and 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 lost in the meantime ;
— because when she is wanted, we can no way do
without her.
I think I told you that this good woman was a
person of no small note and consequence throughout
our whole village and township ; — that her fame had
spread itself to the very out-edge and circumference of
that circle of importance, of which kind every soul
living, whether he has a shirt to his back or no,
has one surrounding him ; — which said circle, by the
way, whenever 'tis said that such a one is of great
weight and importance In the tuorU, 1 desire may
be enlarged or contracted in your worship's fancy, in
a compound ratio of the station, profession, knowledge,
abilities, height and depth (measuring both ways) of
the personage brought before you.
In the present case, if I remember, I fixed it about
four or five miles, which not only comprehended the
whole parish, but extended itself to two or three of
the adjacent hamlets in the skirts of the next parish ;
which made a considerable thing of it. I must add.
That she was, moreover, very well looked on at one
large grange-house, and some other odd houses and
OF TRISTRAM SHANDY. 39
farms within two or three miles, as I said, from the
smoke of her own chimney : But I must here,
once for all, inform you, that all this will be more
exactly delineated and explain'd in a map, now in the
hands of the engraver, which, with many other pieces
and developements of this work, will be added to the
end of the twentieth volume, — not to swell the work,
— I detest the thought of such a thing ; — but by way
of commentary, scholium, illustration, and key to such
passages, incidents, or innuendos as shall be thought to
be either of private interpretation, or of dark or doubt-
ful meaning, after my life and my opinions shall have
been read over (now don't forget the meaning of the
word ) by all the <world ; which, betwixt you and
me, and in spite of all the gentlemen-reviewers in
Great Britain^ and of all that their worships shall
undertake to write or say to the contrary, — I am
determined shall be the case. — I need not tell your
worship, that all this is spoke in confidence.
UPON looking into my mother's marriage-settle-
ment, in order to satisfy myself and reader in
a point necessary to be cleared up, before we
could proceed any farther in this history ; — I had the
good fortune to pop upon the very thing I wanted
before I had read a day and a half straight forwards,
— it might have taken me up a month ; — which shews
plainly, that when a man sits down to write a history,
— tho' it be but the history of Jack Hkhathrift or Tom
Thumbs he knows no more than his heels what lets and
confounded hindrances he is to meet with in his way,
— or what a dance he may be led, by one excursion or
40 THE LIFE AND OPINIONS
another, before all is over. Could a historiographer
drive on his history, as a muleteer drives on his mule,
— straight forward; for instance, from Rome all
the way to Loretto, without ever once turning his head
aside either to the right hand or to the left, he
might venture to foretell you to an hour when he
should get to his journey's end ; but the thing is,
morally speaking, impossible : For, if he is a man of
the least spirit, he will have fifty deviations from a
straight line to make with this or that party as he goes
along, which he can no ways avoid. He will have
views and prospects to himself perpetually soliciting
his eye, which he can no more help standing still to
look at than he can fly ; he will moreover have various
Accounts to reconcile :
Anecdotes to pick up :
Inscriptions to make out :
Stories to weave in ;
Traditions to sift :
Personages to call upon :
Panegyricks to paste up at this door ;
Pasquinades at that; All which both the man
and his mule are quite exempt from. To sum up all ;
there are archives at every stage to be look'd into, and
rolls, records, documents, 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
all the speed I possibly could, — and am not yet born :
— I have just been able, and that's all, to tell you when
it happen'd, but not hoiv ; — 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 t]:»an diminish as I
advance, — have struck out a hint which I am resolved
OF TRISTRAM SHAXDY. 4 1
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.
€I)aptev v^,
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 him, — is so much more
fully express'd 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.
"^nH tUs ^n^tntvLvt further tottocsfietl). That the
said Walter Shandy^ merchant, in consideration of the
said intended marriage to be had, and, by God's
blessing, to be well and truly solemnized and consum-
mated between the said Walter Shandy and Ert%aleth
Moll'ineux aforesaid, and divers other good and valu-
able causes and considerations him thereunto specially
moving, — doth grant, covenant, condescend, consent,
conclude, bargain, and fully agree to and v/iih John
Dixon, and James Turner, Esqrs. the above-named
Trustees, Is'c ZS'c. — tO iDtt, — 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 before the time or times, thai the
said Elizabeth Moll'ineux shall, according to the course
of nature, or otherwise, have left off bearing and bring-
ing forth children ; — and that, in consequence of the said
Walter Shandy having so left off business, he shall in
despightj and against the free-will, consent, and good-
42 THE LIFE AND OFINrONS
liking of the said Elizabeth MoUineux, — make a de-
parture 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 grainge-house, now
purchased, or hereafter to be purchased, or upon any
part or parcel thereof: — That then, and as often as
the said Elizabeth Mollineux shall happen to be enceint
with child or children severally and lawfully begot,
or to be begotten, upon the body of the said Elizabeth
Mollineux, during her said coverture, — he the said
Walter Shandy shall, at his own proper cost and
charges, and out of his own proper monies, 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
hundred and twenty pounds of good and lawful money,
to John Dixon, and James Turner, Esqrs. or assigns, —
upon TRUST and confidence, and for and unto the use
and uses, intent, end, and purpose following : — %l^^t iS
to JSaP, — 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 sufficient horses, to carry and convey the
body of the said Elizabeth Mollineux, and the child or
children which she shall be then and there enceint
and pregnant with, — unto the city of London ; and for
the further paying and defraying of all other incidental
costs, charges, and expences whatsoever, — in and about,
and for, and relating to, her said intended dehvery and
lying-in, in the said city or suburbs thereof. And that
the said Elizabeth Mollineux shall and may, from time
to time, and at all such time and times as are here
covenanted and agreed upon, — peaceably and quietly
OF TRISTRAM SHANDY. 43
hire the said coach and horses, and have free ingress,
egress, and regress throughout her journey, in and from
the said coach, according to the tenor, true intent, and
meaning of these presents, without any let, suit, trouble,
disturbance, molestation, discharge, hindrance, forfeiture,
eviction, vexation, interruption, or incumbrance what-
soever.— And that it shall moreover be lawful to and
for the said Elizabeth Mollineux, from time to time, and
as oft or often as she shall well and truly be advanced
in her said pregnancy, to the time heretofore stipulated
and agreed upon, — to live and reside in such place or
places, and in such family or families, and with such
relations, friends, and other persons within the said city
of London., as she at her own will and pleasure, not-
withstanding her present coverture, and as if she was
difemme sole and unmarried, — shall think fit. — Stnll t)^\^
S'nUenture furtj^er toitiusset^. That for the more
effectually carrying of the said covenant into execution,
the said Walter Shandy^ merchant, doth hereby grant,
bargain, sell, release, and confirm unto the said John
Dixon, and James Turner, Esqrs. their heirs, executors,
and assigns, in their actual possession now being, by
virtue of an indenture of bargain and sale for a year to
them the said John Dickson, and James Turner, Esqrs.
by him the said Walter Shandy, merchant, thereof
made ; which said bargain and sale for a year, bears
date the day next before the date of these presents,
and by force and virtue of the statute for transferring of
uses into possession, — SU that the manor and lordship
of Shandy, in the county of , with all the rights,
members, and appurtenances thereof; and all and every
the messuages, houses, buildings, barns, stables, orchards,
gardens, backsides, tofts, crofts, garths, cottages, lands,
meadows, feedings, pastures, marshes, commons, woods,
underwoods, drains, fisheries, waters, and water-courses ;
— together with all rents, reversions, services, annuities,
44 THE LIFE AND OPINIONS
fee-farms, knights fees, views of frankpledge, escheats,
reHefs, mines, quarries, goods and chattels of felons
and fugitives, felons of themselves, and put in exigent,
deodands, free warrens, and all other royalties and
seigniories, rights and jurisdictions, privileges and
hereditaments whatsoever. ^xiH alSO the advow-
son, donation, presentation, and free disposition of the
rectory or parsonage of Shandy aforesaid, and all and
every the tenths, tythes, glebe-lands." In three
words, "My mother was to lay in, (if she chose
it) in London^
But in order to put a stop to the practice of any unfair
play on the part of my mother, which a marriage-article
of this nature too manifestly opened a door to, and which
indeed had never been thought of at all, but for my uncle
Tohy Shandy ; — a clause was added in security of my
father, which was this : — " That in case my mother here-
after should, at any time, put my father to the trouble
and expence of a London journey, upon false cries and
tokens ; that for every such instance, she should for-
feit all the right and title which the covenant gave her
to the next turn ; but to no more, — and so on, toties
quoties^ in as effectual a manner, as if such a covenant
betwixt them had not been made." — This, by the way,
was no more than what was reasonable ; — and yet, as
reasonable as it was, I have ever thought it hard that the
whole weight of the article should have fallen entirely,
as it did, upon myself.
But I was begot and born to misfortunes : — for my
poor mother, whether it was wind or water — or a com-
pound of both, — or neither ; — or whether it was simply
the mere swell of imagination and fancy in her ; — or how
far a strong wish and desire to have it so, might mislead
her judgment ; — in short, whether she was deceived or
deceiving in this matter, it no way becomes me to decide.
The fact was this, That in the latter end of September
OF TRISTRAM SHAXDY.
45
1717, which was the year before I was born, my mother
having carried my father up to town much against the
grain, — he peremptorily insisted upon the clause ; — so
that I was doom'd, by marriage-articles, to have my nose
squeez'd as flat to my face, as if the destinies had actually
spun me without one.
How this event came about, — and what a train of
vexatious disappointments, in one stage or other of my
life, have pursued me from the mere loss, or rather
compression, of this one single member, — shall be laid
before the reader all in due time.
CI)apter x^i*
MY father, as any body may naturally imagine, came
down with my mother into the country, in but
a pettish kind of a humour. The first twenty
or five-and-twenty miles he did nothing in the world but
fret and teaze himself, and indeed my mother too, about
the cursed expence, which he said might every shilling
of it have been saved ; — then what vexed him more than
every thing else was, the provoking time of the year, —
which, as I told you, was towards the end of Septemhery
when his wall-fruit and green gages especially, in which
he was very curious, were just ready for pulling :
** Had he been whistled up to London^ upon a Tom Fool's
errand, in any other month of the whole year, he should
not have said three words about it."
For the next two whole stages, no subject would go
down, but the heavy blow he had sustain'd from the loss
of a son, whom it seems he had fully reckon'd upon in
his mind, and register'd down in his pocket-book, as a
second staff for his old age, in case Bobby should fail
him. The disappointment of this, he said, was ten
46 THE LIFE AND OPINIONS
times more to a wise man, than all the money which the
journey, &c., had cost him, put together, — rot the hun-
dred and twenty pounds, he did not mind it a rush.
From Stilton, all the way to Grantham, nothing in the
whole affair provoked him so much as the condolences
of his friends, and the foolish figure they should both
make at church, the first Sunday ; of which, in the
satirical vehemence of his wit, now sharpen'd a little by
vexation, he would give so many humorous and pro-
voking descriptions, — and place his rib and self in so
many tormenting lights and attitudes in the face of the
whole congregation ; — that my mother declared, these
two stages were so truly tragi-comical, that she did
nothing but laugh and cry in a breath, from one end to
the other of them all the way.
From Grantham, till they had cross'd the Trent, my
father was out of all kind of patience 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 could not be
deceived herself if she could, what weakness ! "
— tormenting word ! — which led his imagination a
thorny dance, and, before all was over, play'd the duce
and all with him ; for sure as ever the word •weak-
ness was uttered, and struck full upon his brain — so sure
it set him upon running divisions upon how many kinds
of weaknesses there were ; that there was such a
thing as weakness of the body, as well as weak-
ness of the mind, — and then he would do nothing but
syllogize within himself for a stage or two together,
How far the cause of all these vexations might, or might
not, have arisen out of himself.
In short, he had so many little subjects of disquietude
springing out of this one affair, all fretting successively
in his mind as they rose up in it, that my mother, what-
ever was her journey up, had but an uneasy journey of
OF TRISTRAM SHANDY. 47
it down. In a word, as she complained to my uncle
Tohyy he would have tired out the patience of any flesh
alive.
THOUGH my father travelled homewards, as I
told you, in none of the best of moods, — pshaw-
ing and pishing all the way down, — yet he had
the complaisance to keep the worst part of the story
still to himself; — which was the resolution he had
taken of doing himself the justice, which my uncle
Tohy s clause in the marriage-settlement empowered
him ; nor was it till the very night in which I was
begot, which was thirteen months after, that she had
the least intimation of his design : when my father,
happening, as you remember, to be a little chagrin'd
and out of temper, took occasion as they lay chatt-
ing gravely in bed afterwards, talking over what was
to come, to let her know that she must accom-
modate herself as well as she could to the bargain
made between them in their marriage-deeds ; which
was to lye-in of her next child in the country, to
balance the last year's journey.
My father was a gentleman of many virtues, — but
he had a strong spice of that in his temper, which
might, or might not, 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.
48 THE LIFE AND OPINIONS
AS the point was that night agreed, or rather deter-
J-^ mined, that my mother should lye-in of me in
the country, she took her measures accordingly ;
for which purpose, when she was three days, or there-
abouts, 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 Manning/jam 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 shillings book upon the sub-
ject of midwifery, in which he had exposed, not only
the blunders of the sisterhood itself, but had like-
wise super-added 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 de-
scription ; — it is no 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 9, 1759,
that my dear, dear Jenny, observing 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 honour of it,
OF TRISTRAM SHANDY.
49
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, tho' they had their weight, yet did not
altogether satisfy some few scruples and uneasinesses
which hung upon my father'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 love, 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 manner, 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 lye-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 to have complied with, the lady
and her babe might both of them have been alive at
this hour."
This exclamation, my father knew, was unanswer-
able ; — and yet, it was not merely to shelter himself, —
nor was it altogether for the care of his offspring and
wife that he seemed so extremely anxious about this
point ; — my father had extensive views of things,
I. D
50 THE LIFE AND OPINIONS
and stood moreover, as he thought, deeply concerned
in it for the public k good, from the dread he entertained
of the bad uses an ill-fated instance might be put to.
He was very sensible that all political writers upon
the subject had unanimously agreed and lamented, from
the beginning of Queen Elizabeth 's reign down to his
own time, that the current of men and money towards
the metropolis, upon one frivolous errand or another, —
set in so strong, — as to become dangerous to our civil
rights, — though, by the bye, a current was not the
image he took most delight in, — a distemper was here
his favourite metaphor, and he would run it down into
a perfect allegory, by maintaining it was identically the
same in the body national as in the body natural, where
the blood and spirits were driven up into the head faster
than they could find their ways down ; a stoppage of
circulation must ensue, which was death in both cases.
There was little danger, he would say, of losing our
liberties by French politicks or French invasions ;
nor was he so much in pain of a consumption from
the mass of corrupted matter and ulcerated humours in
our constitution, which he hoped was not so bad as it
was imagined ; — but he verily feared, that in some
violent push, we should go off, all at once, in a state-
apoplexy ; — and then he would say, The Lord have
mercy upon us all.
My father was never able to give the history of this
distemper, — without the remedy along with it.
" Was I an absolute prince," he would say, pulling
up his breeches with both his hands, as he rose from
his arm-chair, " I would appoint able judges, at every
avenue of my metropolis, who should take cognizance
of every fool's business who came there ; — and if, upon
a fair and candid hearing, it appeared not of weight
sufficient to leave his own home, and come up, bag and
baggage, with his wife and children, farmer's sons, &c.
OF TRISTRAM SHANDY. 5 1
&c., at his backside, they should be all sent back, from
constable to constable, like vagrants as they were, to the
place of their legal settlements. By this means I shall
take care, that my metropolis totter'd not thro' its
own weight ; — that the head be no longer too big for
the body ; — that the extremes, now wasted and pinn'd
in, be restored to their due share of nourishment, and
regain with it their natural strength and beauty : — I
would effectually provide. That the meadows and corn-
fields of my dominions, should laugh and sing ; — that
good chear and hospitality flourish once more ; — and
that such weight and influence be put thereby into
the hands of the Squirality of my kingdom, as should
counterpoise what I perceive my Nobility are now taking
from them.
" Why are there so few palaces and gentlemen's
seats," he would ask, with some emotion, as he walked
across the room, " throughout so many delicious pro-
vinces in France ? Whence is it that the few remain-
ing Chateaus amongst them are so dismantled, — so
unfurnished, and in so ruinous and desolate a condition \
Because, Sir," (he would say) "in that kingdom
no man has any country-interest to support ; — the Httle
interest of any kind which any man has anywhere in
it, is concentrated in the court, and the looks of the
Grand Monarch : by the sunshine of whose counte-
nance, or the clouds which pass across it, every French
man lives or dies."
Another political reason which prompted my father
so strongly to guard against the least evil accident in
my mother's lying-in in the country, was. That
any such instance would infallibly throw a balance of
power, too great already, into the weaker vessels of the
gentry, in his own, or higher stations ; which, with
the many other usurped rights which that part of the
constitution was hourly establishing, — would, in the
*-c<
52 THE LIFE AND OPINIONS
end, prove fatal to the monarchical system of domestick
government established in the first creation of things
by God.
In this point he was entirely of Sir Robert Filmer^s
opinion, That the plans and institutions of the greatest
monarchies in the eastern parts of the world, were,
originally, all stolen from that admirable pattern and
prototype of this houshold and paternal power; —
which, for a century, he said, and more, had gradually
been degenerating away into a mix'd government ;
the form of which, however desirable in great com-
binations of the species, was very troublesome in
small ones, — and seldom produced any thing, that he
saw, but sorrow and confusion.
For all these reasons, private and publick, put to-
gether,— my father was for having the man-midwife
by all means, — my mother by no means. My father
begg'd and intreated, she would for once recede from
her prerogative in this matter, and suffer him to choose
for her ; — my mother, on the contrary, insisted upon
her privilege in this matter, to choose for herself, — and
have no mortal's help but the old woman's. — What
could my father do ? He was almost at his wit's end ;
talked it over with her in all moods ; — placed his
arguments in all lights ; — argued the matter with her
like a christian, — like a heathen, — like a husband, —
like a father, — like a patriot, — like a man : — My
mother answered every thing only like a wom_an ; which
was a little hard upon her ; — for as she could not
assume and fight it out behind such a variety of char-
acters,— 'twas no fair match : — 'twas seven to one. —
What could my mother do ? She had the advantage
(otherwise she had been certainly overpowered) of a
small reinforcement of chagrin personal at the bottom,
which bore her up, and enabled her to dispute the affair
with my father with so equal an advantage, that
OF TRISTRAM SHANDY. 53
both sides sung Te Deum. In a word, my mother
was to have the old woman, — and the operator was to
have licence to di-ink a bottle of wine with my father
and my uncle Toby Shandy in the back parlour, — for
which he was to be paid five guineas.
I must beg leave, before I finish this chapter, to
enter a caveat in the breast of my fair reader ; — and it
is this, Not to take it absolutely for granted, from
an unguarded word or two which I have dropp'd in it,
" That I am a married man." — I own, the tender
appellation of my dear, dear Jenny^ — with some other
strokes of conjugal knowledge, interspersed here and
there, might, naturally enough, have misled the most
candid judge in the world into such a determination
against me. — All I plead for, in this case, Madam, is
strict justice, and that you do so much of it, to me as
well as to yourself, — as not to prejudge, or receive such
an impression of me, till you have better evidence, than,
I am positive, at present can be produced against me. —
Not that I can be so vain or unreasonable. Madam,
as to desire you should therefore think, that my dear,
dear Jenny is my kept mistress; — no, — that would
be flattering my character in the other extreme, and
giving it an air of freedom, which, perhaps, it has no
kind of right to. All I contend for, is the utter impossi-
bility, for some volumes, that you, or the most pene-
trating spirit upon earth, should know how this matter
really stands. — It is not impossible, but that my dear,
dear Jenny ! tender as the appellation is, may be my
child. Consider, — I was born in the year eighteen.
— Nor is there anything unnatural or extravagant in
the supposition, that my dear Jenny may be my friend.
— Friend ! — My friend. — Surely, Madam, a friendship
between the two sexes may subsist, and be supported
without Fy ! Mr Shandy : — Without any thing,
Madam, but that tender and delicious sentiment, which
54 THE LIFE AND OPINIONS
ever mixes in friendship, where there is a difference of
sex. Let me intreat you to study the pure and senti-
mental parts of the best French Romances; — it will
really, Madam, astonish you to see with what a variety
of chaste expressions this delicious sentiment, which I
have the honour to speak of, is dress'd out.
I
WOULD sooner undertake to explain the hardest
problem in geometry, than pretend to account for
it, that a gentleman of my father's great good sense,
-knowing, as the reader must have observed him, and
curious too in philosophy, — wise also in political reason-
ing,— and in polemical (as he will find) no way ignorant,
— could be capable of entertaining a notion in his head,
so out of the common track, — that I fear the reader,
when I come to mention it to him, if he is the least of
a cholerick temper, will immediately throw the book by;
if mercurial, he will laugh most heartily at it; — and if he
is of a grave and saturnine cast, he will, at first sight,
absolutely condemn as fanciful and extravagant; and that
was in respect to the choice and imposition of christian
names, on which he thought a great deal more depended
than what superficial minds were capable of conceiving.
His opinion, in this matter, was. That there was a
strange kind of magick bias, which good or bad names,
as he called them, irresistibly impressed upon our char-
acters and conduct.
The hero of Cervantes argued not the point with
more seriousness, nor had he more faith, or
more to say on the powers of necromancy in dishonour-
ing his deeds, — or on Dulcinea's name, in shedding
lustre upon them, than my father had on those of Tris-
OF TRISTRAM SHANDY. 55
MEGisTus or Archimedes, on the one hand — or of Nyky
and SiMKiN on the other. How many Caesars and
PoMPEYS, he would say, by mere inspiration of the
names, have been rendered worthy of them .-* And
how many, he would add, are there, who might have
done exceeding well in the world, had not their char-
acters and spirits been totally depressed and Nicodemus'd
into nothing ?
I see plainly, Sir, by your looks, (or as the case
happened) my father would say — that you do not
heartily subscribe to this opinion of mine, — which, to
those, he would add, who have not carefully sifted it
to the bottom, — I own has an air more of fancy than
of solid reasoning in it ; and yet, my dear Sir, if I
may presume to know your character, I am morally
assured, I should hazard little in stating a case to you,
— not as a party in the dispute, — but as a judge, and
trusting my appeal upon it to your own good sense and
candid disquisition in this matter ; you are a person
free from as many narrow prejudices of education as most
men ; — and, if I may presume to penetrate farther into
you, — of a liberality of genius above bearing down an
opinion, merely because it wants friends. Your son,
— your dear son, — from whose sweet and open temper
you have so much to expect. — Your Billy, Sir !
— would you, for the world, have called him Judas ? —
Would you, my dear Sir, he would say, laying his
hand upon your breast, with the genteelest address, — •
and in that soft and irresistible piano of voice, which
the nature of the argument um ad hominem absolutely
requires, — Would you, Sir, if a Jeiv of a godfather had
proposed the name for your child, and offered you his
purse along with it, would you have consented to such
a desecration of him ? O my God ! he would say,
looking up, if I know your temper right. Sir, — ^you
are incapable of it ; you would have trampled upon
56 THE LIFE AND OPINIONS
the offer ; — you would have thrown the temptation at
the tempter's head with abhorrence.
Your greatness of mind in this action, which i
admire, with that generous contempt of money, which
you shew me in the whole transaction, is really noble ;
— and what renders it more so, is the principle of it ;
— the workings of a parent's love upon the truth and
conviction of this very hypothesis, namely. That was
your son called Judas, — the sordid and treacherous
idea, so inseparable from the name, would have accom-
panied him through life like his shadow, and, in the
end, made a miser and a rascal of him, in spite. Sir, of
your example.
I never knew a man able to answer this argument.
But, indeed, to speak of my father as he was ; —
he was certainly irresistible ; — both in his orations and
disputations ; — he was born an orator ; — QiodiduKToc.
— Persuasion hung upon his lips, and the elements of
Logick and Rhetorick were so blended up in him, —
and, withal, he had so shrewd a guess at the weak-
nesses and passions of his respondent, that Nature
might have stood up and said, — " This man is elo-
quent."— In short, whether he was on the weak or
the strong side of the question, 'twas hazardous in
either case to attack him. — And yet, 'tis strange, he
had never read Cicero^ nor Qu'tntUian de Oratore, nor
Isocrates, nor Aristotle, nor Longinus amongst the
antients ; — nor Fossius, nor Sk'ioppius, nor Ramus, nor
Farnahy amongst the moderns ; — and what is more
astonishing, he had never in his whole life the least
light or spark of subtilty struck into his mind, by one
single lecture upon Crachnthorp or Burger sdicius, or
any Dutch logician or commentator ; — he knew not
so much as in what the difference of an argument ad
ignorantiam, and an argument ad hominem consisted ;
so that I well remember, when he went up along with
OF TRISTRAM SHANDY. 57
me to enter my name at Jesus College in * * * *, — it
was a matter of just wonder with my worthy tutor,
and two or three fellows of that learned society, —
that a man who knew not so much as the names of
his tools, should be able to work after that fashion
with them.
To work with them in the best manner he could,
was what my father was, however, perpetually forced
upon ; for he had a thousand little sceptical notions
of the comick kind to defend most of which
notions, I verily believe, at first entered upon the
footing of mere whims, and of a vive la Bagatelle ;
and as such he would make merry with them for half
an hour or so, and having sharpened his wit upon
them, dismiss them till another day.
I mention this, not only as matter of hypothesis or
conjecture upon the progress and establishment of my
father's many odd opinions, — but as a warning to the
learned reader against the indiscreet reception of such
guests, who, after a free and undisturbed entrance, for
some years, into our brains, — at length claim a kind
of settlement there, working sometimes like yeast ;
— but more generally after the manner of the gentle
passion, beginning in jest, — but ending in downright
earnest.
Whether this was the case of the singularity of
my father's notions — or that his judgment, at length,
became the dupe of his wit ; — or how far, in many of
his notions, he might, though odd, be absolutely right ;
the reader, as he comes at them, shall decide.
All that I maintain here, is, that in this one, of the
influence of christian names, however it gained footing,
he was serious ; — he was all uniformity ; — he was syste-
matical, and, like all systematick reasoners, he would
move both heaven and earth, and twist and torture
every thing in nature, to support his hypothesis. In a
58 THE LIFE AND OPINIONS
word, I repeat it over again ; — he was serious ; — and,
in consequence of it, he would lose all kind of patience
whenever he saw people, especially of condition, who
should have known better, as careless and as in-
different about the name they imposed upon their child,
— or more so, than in the choice of Ponto or Cupid
for their puppy-dog.
This, he would say, look'd ill ; — and had, more-
over, this particular aggravation in it, viz.. That when
once a vile name was wrongfully or injudiciously
given, 'twas not like the case of a man's character,
which, when wrong'd, might hereafter be cleared ;
and, possibly, some time or other, if not in the
man's life, at least after his death, — be, somehow or
other, set to rights with the world : But the injury
of this, he would say, could never be undone ; — nay,
he doubted even whether an act of parliament could
reach it : He knew as well as you, that the legis-
lature assumed a power over surnames ; — but for very
strong reasons, which he could give, it had never yet
adventured, he would say, to go a step farther.
It was observable, that tho' my father, in conse-
quence of this opinion, had, as I have told you, the
strongest likings and dislikings towards certain names ;
— that there were still numbers of names which hung
so equally in the balance before him, that they were
absolutely indifferent to him. jfack, Dick, and Tom
were of this class : These my father called neutral
names ; — affirming of them, without a satire. That there
had been as many knaves and fools, at least, as wise and
good men, since the world began, who had indifferently
borne them ; — so that, like equal forces acting against
each other in contrary directions, he thought they mutu-
ally destroyed each other's effects ; for which reason, he
would often declare. He would not give a cherry-stone
to choose amongst them. Bob, which was my brother's
OF TRISTRAM SHANDY. 59
name, was another of these neutral kinds of christian
names, which operated very little either way ; and as
my father happen'd to be at Epsom^ when it was given
him, — he would oft-times thank Heaven it was no
worse. Andreiu was something like a negative quantity
in Algebra with him ; — 'twas worse, he said, than
nothing. — William stood pretty high : Numps again
was low with him : — and Nick^ he said, was the Devil.
But, of all the names in the universe, he had the
most unconquerable aversion for Tristram ; — he had the
lowest and most contemptible opinion of it of any thing
in the world, — thinking it could possibly produce no-
thing in rerum naturd^ but what was extremely mean and
pitiful : So that in the midst of a dispute on the subject,
in which, by the bye, he was frequently involved,
he would sometimes break off in a sudden and spirited
Epiphonema, or rather Erotesis, raised a third, and
sometimes a full fifth above the key of the discourse,
and demand it categorically of his antagonist.
Whether he would take upon 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^
performing any thing great or worth recording ? — No,
— he would say, — Tristram ! — The thing is impossible.
What could be wanting in my father but to have
wrote a book to pubHsh 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 : —
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 Dis-
sertation simply upon the word Tristram^ — shewing
the world, with great candour 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 ?
6o THE LIFE AND OPINIONS
— to see an orderly and well-disposed gentleman, who
tho' 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 purposedly 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 dissyllable of sound ! which,
to his ears, was unison to Nincompoops and every name
vituperative under heaven. By his ashes ! 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 before I was christened, I would this moment
give the reader an account of it.
How could you. Madam, be so Inattentive In
reading the last chapter ? I told you in it. That my
mother nvas not a papist. Papist ! You told me no
such thing. 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 miss'd a page. — No, Madam, — you
have not missM 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 a punishment for it, I do insist upon it,
OF TRISTRAM SHANDY. 6i
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 crept 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 over as it should be,
would infalHbly impart with them The mind should
be accustomed to make wise reflections, and draw curious
conclusions as it goes along ; the habitude of which
made Pliny the younger aflirm, " 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 Par'ismus 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 christen'd." 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 ; — but upon this proviso, That
some part or other of the child's body be seen by the baptizer :
But the Doctors of the Sorbonne, by a deliberation held
amongst them, Ap7~il lo, 1733, — have enlarged the powers of
the midwives, by determining. That though no part of the
child's body should appear, that baptism shall, neverthe-
less, be administered to it by injection, ^/ar le moyen dune
fetite canulle, — Anglice a squirt. 'Tis very strange that St
Thomas Aquinas, who had so good a mechanical head, both
62 THE LIFE AND OPINIONS
It is a terrible misfortune for this same book of mine,
but more so to the RepubHck of letters ; — so that my
own is quite swallowed up in the consideration of it, — ■
that this self-same vile pruriency for fresh adventures
in all things, has got so strongly into our habit and
humour, — and so wholly intent are we upon satisfying
the impatience of our concupiscence that way, — that
nothing but the gross and more carnal parts of a com-
position will go down : — The subtle hints and sly
communications of science fly off, like spirits upwards,
the heavy moral escapes downwards ; and both
the one and the other are as much lost to the world, as
if they were still left in the bottom of the ink-horn.
I wish the male-reader has not passM by many a
one, as quaint and curious as this one, in which the
female-reader has been detected. I wish it may have
its effects ; — and that all good people, both male and
female, from her example, may be taught to think as
well as read.
Memoire presente a Messieurs les Docteurs de
SORBONNE.*
T J ^ Ch'irurgien Accoucheur, represente a Messieurs
^<-y les Docteurs de Sorbonne, quil y a des cas,
quoique tres raresy ou une mere ne sqauro'it
accoucher, ^ meme ou V enfant est tellement renferme dans
le sein de sa mere, quil ne fait paroitre aucune partie de
son corps, ce qui sero'it un cas, suivant les R'ltuels, de lu't
for tying and untying the knots of school-divinity, — should,
after so much pains bestowed upon this, — give up the point
at last, as a second La chose impossible, — " Infantes in maternis
uteris existentes (quoth St Thomas!) baptizari possunt nuUo
modo." — O Thomas/ Thomas/
If the reader has the curiosity to see the question upon bap-
tism by injection, as presented to the Doctors of the Sorbonne,
with their consultation thereupon, it is as follows.
* Vide Deventer, Paris edit., 4to, 1734, p. 3fc6.
OF TRISTRAM SHANDY. 63
conferer, du mo'ins sous condition^ le hapteme. Le Ch'irur-
gien, qui consulte, pretend, par le moycn d'une petite
canulle, de pouvo'ir baptiser immediatement V enfant, sans
fa'tre aucun tort a la mere. // demand si ce moyen,
quil 'vient de proposer, est per mis ^ legitime, ^ s'ilpeut
J* en servir dans les cas quil vient d^ expos er.
R E P O N S E.
T E Conseil estime, que la question proposee souffre de
./— ^ grandes difficultes. Les Theologiens posent d'un
cote pour principe, que le bapteme, qui est une
naissance spirituelle, suppose une premiere naissance ; il
faut etre ne dans le monde, pour renaitre en Jesus Christ,
comme ils V enseignent. S. Thomas, 3 part, qusest. 88,
artic. II, suit cette doctrine comme une verite constante ;
Von ne peut, dit ce S, Docteur, baptiser les enfans qui sont
renfermes dans le sein de leurs meres, ^ S. Thomas est
fonde sur ce, que les enfans ne sont point nes, is" ne peu-
•vent etre comptes parmi les autres hommes ; d* ou il
conclud, quils ne peuvent etre Vohjet d^une action ex~
terieure, pour recevoir par leur ministere, les sacremens
necessaires au salut : Pueri in maternis uteris existentes
nondum prodierunt in lucem ut cum aUis hominibus
vitam ducant; unde non possunt subjici actioni humanae,
ut per eorum ministerium sacramenta recipiant ad salu-
tem. Les rituels ordonnent dans la pratique ce que les
theologiens ont etabli sur les memes matieres, ^ ils
dependent tous d'une maniere un forme, de baptiser les
enfans qui sont renfermes dans le sein de leurs meres^
s^ils ne font paroitre quelque partie de leurs corps. Le
concours des theologiens, l^ des rituels, qui sont les regies
des dioceses, paroit former une autorite qui termine la
question presente ; cependant le conseil de conscience con*
siderant d'un cote, que le raisonncment des theologiens est
64 THE LIFE AND OPINIONS
unlquement fonde sur une ra'ison de convenance, ^ que
la dejfmse des r'ltuels suppose que Von tie peut hapt'iser
immediatement les enfans a'lnsi renfermes dans le se'in de
leurs meres, ce qui est contre la supposition presente ; ^
d^un autre cote, consider ant que les memes theologiens
enseignenty que V on peut risquer les sacremens que Jesus
Christ a etablis comme des moyens faciles, mais necessaires
pour sanctifier les hommes ; ^ d'ailleurs estimant, que
les enfans renfermes dans le sein de leurs meres, pourroient
etre capables de salut, parcequils sont capables de damna-
tion ; — pour ces considerations, ^ en egard a V expose,
suivant lequel on assure avoir trouve un moyen certain de
laptiser ces enfans ainsi renfermes, sans fair e aucun tort
a la mere, le Conseil estime que Von pourroit se servir du
moyen propose, dans la conflance quil a, que Dieu n a
point laisse ces sortes d* enfans sans aucuns secours, ^
supposant, comme il est expose, que le moyen dont il s^agit
est propre a leur procurer le bapteme ; cependant comme il
s'agiroit, en autorisant la pratique proposee, de changer
une regie universellement etablie, le Conseil croit que celui
qui consult e doit s* addresser a son eve que, ^ a qui
il appartient de juger de Vutilite, ^ du danger du moyen
propose, ^ comme, sous le bon plaisir de Veveque, le
Conseil estime quil faudroit recourir au Pape, qui a le
droit d'expliquer les regies de Veglise, ^ d'y deroger
dans le cas, ou la loi ne scauroit obliger, quelque sage ^
quelque utile que paroisse la maniere de baptiser dont il
s'agit, le Conseil ne pourroit V approuver sans le concours
de ces deux autorites. On conseile au moins a celui qui
consulte, de s* addresser a son eveque, ^ de hi fair e part
de la presente decision, afn que, si le prelat entre dans
les raisons sur lesquelles les docteurs soussignes s'appuyent,
il puisse etre autorise dans le cas de necessite, ou il
risqueroit trop d' attendre que la permission fut demandee
^ accordee d' employer le moyen quil propose si avanta-
geux au salut de V enfant. Au reste, le Conseil, en
OF TRISTRAM SHANDY. 65
esttmant que Von pourroit s^ en servlr, croit cependant, que
si les enfans dont tl s^ag'tt, venoient au monde, contre
T esperance de ceux qui se sero'ient serais du meme moyen^
il sero'tt necessaire de les baptiser sous condition ; ^ en
cela le Censed se conforme a tous les rituelsy qui en
autorisant le hapteme d'un enfant qui fait paroitre quelque
partie de son corps, enjoignent neantmoins, ^ ordonnent
de le baptiser sous condition, j-';7 vient heureusement au
monde.
Delibere en Sorhonne, le 10 Avril, 1733.
A. Le Moyne.
L. De Romigny.
De Marcilly.
Mr Tristram Shandy^s compliments to Messrs
Le Moyne, De Romigny, and De Marcilly ; hopes
they all rested well the night after so tiresome a
consultation. — He begs to know, whether after the
ceremony of marriage, and before that of consummation,
the baptizing all the Homunculi at once, slapdash, by
injection, would not be a shorter and safer cut still ; on
condition, as above. That if the Homunculi do well,
and come safe into the world after this, that each and
every of them shall be baptized again [sous condition)
And provided, in the second place. That the thing
can be done, which Mr Shandy apprehends it may,
par le moyen d\ne petite canulle, and sans faire aucun
tort au pere.
66 THE LIFE AND OPINIONS
1 wonder what's all that noise, and running
backwards and forwards for, above stairs, quoth my
father, addressing himself, after an hour and a half's
silence, to my uncle Toby^ who, you must know,
was sitting on the opposite side of the fire, smoking
his social pipe all the time, in mute contemplation of
a new pair of black plush-breeches which he had got
on : — What can they be doing, brother ? — quoth my
father, — we can scarce hear ourselves talk.
I think, repHed my uncle Toby, taking his pipe from
his mouth, and striking the head of it two or three
times upon the nail of his left thumb, as he began
his sentence, 1 think, says he : But to enter
rightly into my uncle Tohf s sentiments upon this
matter, you must be made to enter first a little into his
character, the out-lines of which I shall just give you,
and then the dialogue between him and my father will
go on as well again.
Pray what was that man's name, — for I write in
such a hurry, I have no time to recollect or look for
it, who first made the observation, "That there
was great inconstancy in our air and climate ? " Who-
ever he was, 'twas a just and good observation in him.
— But the corollary drawn from it, namely, " That it
is this which has furnished us with such a variety of
odd and whimsical characters ; " — that was not his ; —
it was found out by another man, at least a century
and a half after him : Then again, — that this copious
store-house of original materials, is the true and natural
cause that our Comedies are so much better than those
of France^ or any others that either have, or can be
wrote upon the Continent : that discovery was not
fully made till about the middle of King William s reign.
OF TRISTRAM SHANDY. 67
— when the great Dryden, in writing one of his long
prefaces, (if I mistake not) most fortunately hit upon
it. Indeed toward the latter end of Queen Anne^ the
great Addison began to patronize the notion, and more
fully explained it to the world in one or two of his
Spectators ; — but the discovery was not his. — Then,
fourthly and lastly, that this strange irregularity in our
climate, producing so strange an irregularity in our
characters, doth thereby, in some sort, make us
amends, by giving us somewhat to make us merry with
when the weather will not suffer us to go out of doors,
— that observation is my own ; — and was struck out by
me this very rainy day, March 26, 1759, and betwixt
the hours of nine and ten in the morning.
Thus — thus, my fellow-labourers and associates in
this great harvest of our learning, now ripening before
our eyes ; thus it is, by slow steps of casual increase,
that our knowledge physical, metaphysical, physiological,
polemical, nautical, mathematical, aenigmatical, tech-
nical, biographical, romantical, chemical, and obstet-
rical, with fifty other branches of it, (most of 'em
ending as these do, in /W) have for these two last
centuries and more, gradually been creeping upwards
towards that 'Ak,^// of their perfections, from which, if
we may form a conjecture from the advances of these
last seven years, we cannot possibly be far off.
When that happens, it is to be hoped, it will put an
end to all kind of writings whatsover ; — the want of all
kind of writing will put an end to all kind of reading ;
— and that in time. As avar begets poverty ; poverty peace,
must, in course, put an end to all kind of know-
ledge,— and then we shall have all to begin over
again ; or, in other words, be exactly where we started.
Happy ! thrice happy times ! I only wish
that the sera of my begetting, as well as the mode and
manner of it, had been a little alter'd, or that it
68 THE LIFE AND OPINIONS
could have been put off, with any convenience to my
father or mother, for some twenty or five-and-twenty
years longer, when a man in the literary world might
have stood some chance.
But I forget my uncle Toby^ whom all this while we
have left knocking the ashes out of his tobacco-pipe.
His humour was of that particular species, which
does honour to our atmosphere ; and I should have
made no scruple of ranking him amongst one of the first-
rate productions of it, had not there appeared too many
strong lines in it of a family-likeness, which shewed that
he derived the singularity of his temper more from
blood, than either wind or water, or any modifications
or combinations of them whatever : And I have, there-
fore, oft-times wondered, that my father, tho' I believe
he had his reasons for it, upon his observing some tokens
of eccentricity, in my coui'se, when I was a boy, — should
never once endeavour to account for them in this way :
for all the Shandy Family were of an original character
throughout : 1 mean the males, — the females had no
character at all, — except, indeed, my great aunt Dinah,
who, about sixty years ago, was married and got with
child by the coachman, for which my father, accord-
ing to his hypothesis of christian names, would often say.
She might thank her godfathers and godmothers.
It will seem very strange, and I would as soon
think of dropping a riddle in the reader's way, which is
not my interest to do, as set him upon guessing how it
could come to pass, that an event of this kind, so many
years after it had happened, should be reserved for the
interruption of the peace and unity, which otherwise
so cordially subsisted, between my father and my uncle
Toby, One would have thought, that the whole force of
the misfortune should have spent and wasted itself in the
family at first, — as is generally the case. — But nothing
ever wrought with our family after the ordinary way.
OF TRISTRAM SHANDY. 69
Possibly at the very time this happened, it might have
something else to afHict it ; and as afflictions are sent
down for our good, and that as this had never dene the
Shandy Family any good at all, it might lie waiting till
apt times and circumstances should give it an oppor-
tunity to discharge its office. Observe, I determine
nothing upon this. My v/ay is ever to point out to
the curious, different tracts of investigation, to come at
the first springs of the events I tell ; — not with a pedantic
Fescue^ — or in the decisive manner of Tacitus, v/ho
outwits himself and his reader ; — but with the officious
humility of a heart devoted to the assistance merely of
the inquisitive ; — to them I write, and by them I
shall be read, if any such reading as this could be
supposed to hold out so long, — to the very end of the
world.
Why this cause of sorrow, therefore, was thus reserved
for my father and uncle, is undetermined by me. But
how and in what direction it exerted itself so as to
become the cause of dissatisfaction between them, after
it began to operate, is what I am able to explain with
great exactness, and is as follows :
My uncle Toby Shandy, Madam, was a gentleman,
who, with the virtues v.'^hich usually constitute the
character of a man of honour and rectitude, pos-
sessed one in a very eminent degree, which is seldom
or never put into the catalogue ; and that was a most
extreme and unparalleled modesty of nature ;
though I correct the word nature, for this reason, that
I may not prejudge a point which must shortly come
to a hearing, and that is. Whether this modesty of his
was natural or acquired. Whichever way my uncle
Tohy came by it, 'twas nevertheless modesty in the
truest sense of it ; and that is. Madam, not in regard
to words, for he was so unhappy as to have very little
-but to thinos ; and this kind of
70 THE LIFE AND OPINIONS
modesty so possessed him, and it arose to such a height
in him, as almost to equal, if such a thing could be,
even the modesty of a woman : That female nicety.
Madam, and inward cleanliness of mind and fancy, in
your sex, which makes you so much the awe of ours.
You will imagine. Madam, that my uncle Toby had
contracted all this from this very source ; — that he had
spent a great part of his time in converse with your
sex ; and that from a thorough knowledge of you, and
the force of imitation which such fair examples render
irresistible, he had acquired this amiable turn of mind.
I wish I could say so, — for unless it was with his
sister-in-law, my father*s wife and my mother my
uncle Toby scarce exchanged three words with the sex
in as many years ; no, he got it. Madam, by a
blow. A blow ! — Yes, Madam, it was owing to a
blow from a stone, broke off by a ball from the para-
pet of a horn- work at the siege of Namur^ which
struck full upon my uncle Toby's groin. — Which way
could that effect it ? The story of that, Madam, is
long and interesting ; — but it would be running my
history all upon heaps to give it you here. 'Tis for
an episode hereafter ; and every circumstance relating
to it, in its proper place, shall be faithfully laid before
you : — 'Till then, it is not in my power to give farther
light into this matter, or say more than what I have
said already, That my uncle Toby was a gentleman
of unparallel'd modesty, which happening to be some-
what subtilized and rarified by the constant heat of a
little family pride, they both so wrought together
within him, that he could never bear to hear the affair
of my aunt Dinah touched upon, but with the greatest
emotion. The least hint of it was enough to make
the blood fly into his face ; — but when my father
enlarged upon the story in mixed companies, which the
illustration of his hypothesis frequently obliged him to
OF TRISTRAM SHANDY. 7 1
do, — the unfortunate blight of one of the fairest
branches of the family, would set my uncle Tohy s
honour and modesty o' bleeding ; and he would often
take my father aside, in the greatest concern imagin-
able, to expostulate and tell him, he would give him
any thing in the world, only to let the story rest.
My father, I believe, had the truest love and tender-
ness for my uncle Tohy^ that ever one brother bore
towards another, and would have done any thing in
nature, which one brother in reason could have desir'd
of another, to have made my uncle Tohy s heart easy
in this, or any other point. But this lay out of his
power.
My father, as I told you, was a philosopher in
grain, — speculative, — systematical ; — and my aunt
Dinah*s affair was a matter of as much consequence to
him, as the retrogradation of the planets to Copernicus :
— The backslidings of Venus in her orbit fortified the
Copernican system, called so after his name ; and the
backslidings of my aunt Dinah in her orbit, did the
same service in establishing my father's system, which,
I trust, will for ever hereafter be called the Shandean
System, after his.
In any other family dishonour, my father, I believe,
had as nice a sense of shame as any man whatever ;
and neither he, nor, I dare say, Copenucusy would
have divulged the affair in either case, or have taken
the least notice of it to the world, but for the obliga-
tions they owed, as they thought, to truth. — Amicus
PlatOy my father would say, construing the words to
my uncle Tohy, as he went along, Amicus Plato ; that
is, Dinah was my aunt ; — sed magis amica Veritas
but Truth is my sister.
This contrariety of humours betwixt my father, and
my uncle, was the source of many a fraternal squabble.
The one could not bear to hear the tale of family
72 THE LIFE AND OPINIONS
disgrace recorded, and the other would scarce ever
let a day pass to an end without some hint at it.
For God's sake, my uncle Toby would cry, and
for my sake, and for all our sakes, my dear brother
Shandy, — do let this story of our aunt's and her ashes
sleep in peace ; how can you, how can you
have so little feeling and compassion for the character
of our family ? What is the character of a family
to an hypothesis ? my father would reply. Nay, if
you come to that — what is the life of a family ? The
life of a family ! — my uncle Toby would say, throwing
himself back in his arm chair, and lifting up his hands,
his eyes, and one leg. Yes, the life, my father
would say, maintaining his point. How many thousands
of 'em are there every year that come cast away, (in
all civilized countries at least) and considered as
nothing but common air, in competition of an hypothesis.
In my plain sense of things, my uncle Toby would
answer, every such instance is downright Murder,
let who will commit it. There lies your mistake,
my father would reply ; -for, in Foro Scientia there
is no such thing as Murder, 'tis only Death,
brother.
My uncle Toby would never offer to answer this by
any other kind of argument, than that of whistling half
a dozen bars of Lillebullero. You must know it was
the usual channel thro' which his passions got vent,
when any thing shocked or surprized him : but
especially when any thing, which he deem'd very
absurd, was offered.
As not one of our logical writers, nor any of the
commentators upon them, that I remember, have
thought proper to give a name to this particular species
of argument, — I here take the liberty to do it myself,
for two reasons. First, That, in order to prevent all
confusion in disputes, it may stand as much distinguished
OF TRISTRAM SHANDY. 73
for ever, from every other species of argument-
as the Argumentum ad Verecundiam, ex Absurdo, ex
Fortiori, or any other argument whatsoever ;
And, secondly, That it may be said by my children's
children, when my head is laid to rest, that their
learn'd grandfather's head had been busied to as much
purpose once, as other people's ; — That he had in-
vented a name, — and generously thrown it into the
Treasury of the Ars Logica, for one of the most
unanswerable arguments in the whole science. And,
if the end of disputation is more to silence than con-
vince,— they may add, if they please, to one of the
best arguments too.
I do therefore, by these presents, strictly order and
command, That it be known and distinguished by the
name and title of the Argumentum Fistulaiorium, and no
other ; — and that it rank hereafter with the Argumentum
Baculinum and the Argumentum ad Crumenam, and for
ever hereafter be treated of in the same chapter.
As for the Argumentum Tripodium, which is never
used but by the woman against the man ; — and the
Argumentum ad Rem, which, contrary wise, is made
use of by the man only against the woman ; — As these
two are enough in conscience for one lecture ; and,
moreover, as the one is the best answer to the other,
— let them likewise be kept apart, and be treated of
in a place by themselves.
Chapter j:pii»
THE learned Bishop Hall, I mean the famous Dr
Joseph Hall, who was Bishop of Exeter in
King James the First's reign, tells us in one of
his Decads, at the end ot his divine art of meditation,
74 THE LIFE AND OPINIONS
imprinted at London^ in the year 1610, by John Bealy
dwelling in Aldersgate-street, "That it is an abomin-
able thing for a man to commend himself; " and
I really think it is so.
And yet, on the other hand, when a thing is exe-
cuted in a masterly kind of a fashion, which thing is
not likely to be found out ; — I think it is full as
abominable, that a man should lose the honour of it,
and go out of the world with the conceit of it rotting
in his head.
This is precisely my situation.
For in this long digression which I was accidentally
led into, as in all my digressions (one only excepted)
there is a master-stroke of digressive skill, the merit
of which has all along, I fear, been overlooked by my
reader, — not for want of penetration in him, — but
because 'tis an excellence seldom looked for, or ex-
pected indeed, in a digression ; — and it is this : That
tho' my digressions are all fair, as you observe, — and
that I fly off from what I am about, as far, and as
often too, as any writer in Great Britain ; yet I con-
stantly take care to order affairs so that my main
business does not stand still in my absence.
I was just going, for example, to have given you
the great out-lines of my uncle Tohy s most whimsical
character ; — when my aunt Dinah and the coachman
came across us, and led us a vagary some millions of
miles into the very heart of the planetary system : Not-
withstanding all this, you perceive that the drawing
of my uncle Tobys character went on gently all the
time ; — not the great contours of it, — that was impos-
sible,— but some familiar strokes and faint designations
of it, were here and there touch'd on, as we went
along, so that you are much better acquainted with my
uncle Toby now than you was before.
By this contrivance the machinery of my work is of
OF TRISTRAM SHANDY. 75
a species by itself; two contrary motions are intro-
duced into it, and reconciled, which were thought to
be at variance with each other. In a word, my work
is digressive, and it is progressive too, — and at the same
time.
This, Sir, is a very different story from that of the
earth's moving round her axis, in her diurnal rotation,
with her progress in her elliptick orbit which brings
about the year, and constitutes that variety and vicissi-
tude of seasons we enjoy ; — though I own it suggested
the thought, — as I believe the greatest of our boasted
improvements and discoveries have come from such
trifling hints.
Digressions, incontestably, are the sunshine ;
they are the life, the soul of reading ! — take them out
of this book, for instance, — you might as well take the
book along with them ; — one cold eternal winter would
reign in every page of it ; restore them to the writer ;
— he steps forth like a bridegroom, — bids All-hail ;
brings in variety, and forbids the appetite to fail.
All the dexterity is in the good cookery and
management of them, so as to be not only for the
advantage of the reader, but also of the author, whose
distress, in this matter, is trulv pitiable: For, if he
begins a digression, — from that moment, I observe, his
whole work stands stock still ; — and if he goes on with
his main work, — then there is an end of his digression.
This is vile work. — For which reason, from
the beginning of this, you see, I have constructed the
main work and the adventitious parts of it with such
intersections, and have so complicated and involved
the digressive and progressive movements, one wheel
within another, that the whole machine, in general,
has been kept a-going ; — and, what's more, it shall be
kept a-going these forty years, if it pleases the fountain
of health to bless me so long with life and good spirits.
76 THE LIFE AND OPINIONS
1HAVE a strong propensity in me to begin this
chapter very nonsensically, and I will not baulk
my fancy. — Accordingly I set off thus :
If the fixture of Momus's glass in the human breast,
according to the proposed emendation of that arch-
critick, had taken place, first, This foolish conse-
quence would certainly have followed, — That the very
wisest and very gravest of us all, in one coin or other,
must have paid window-money every day of our lives.
And, secondly, That had the said glass been there
set up, nothing more would have been wanting, in order
to have taken a man's character, but to have taken a
chair and gone softly, as you would to a dioptrical bee-
hive, and looked in, — view'd the soul stark naked ; —
observed all her motions, — her machinations ; — traced
all her maggots from their first engendering to their
crawling forth ; — watched her loose in her frisks, her
gambols, her capricios ; and after some notice of her
more solemn deportment, consequent upon such frisks,
&c. then taken your pen and ink and set down
nothing but what you had seen, and could have sworn
to : — But this is an advantage not to be had by the
biographer in this planet ; — in the planet Mercury
(belike) it may be so, if not better still for him ;
for there the intense heat of the country, which is
proved by computators, from its vicinity to the sun, to
be more than equal to that of red-hot iron, — must, I
think, long ago have vitrified the bodies of the in-
habitants, (as the eflRcient cause) to suit them for
the cHmate (which is the final cause ;) so that betwixt
them both, all the tenements of their souls, from top to
bottom, may be nothing else, for aught the soundest
philosophy can shew to the contrary, but one fine trans-
OF TRISTRAM SHANDY. 77
parent body of clear glass (bating the umbilical knot)
— so that, till the inhabitants grow old and tolerably
wrinkled, whereby the rays of light, in passing through
them, become so monstrously refracted, or return
reflected from their surfaces in such transverse lines to
the eye, 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 other accounts, I say, as well play the fool out
o'doors as in her own house.
But this, as I said above, is not the case of the in-
habitants of this earth ; — our minds shine not through
the body, but are wrapt up here in a dark covering of
uncrystalized flesh and blood ; so that, if we would
come to the specific characters of them, we must go
some other way to work.
Many, in good truth, are the ways, which human
wit has been forced to take, to do this thing with
exactness.
Some, for instance, draw all their characters with
wind-instruments. — Virgil takes notice of that way in
the affair of Dido and JEneas ; — but it is as fallacious
as the breath of fame ; — and, moreover, bespeaks a
narrow genius. I am not ignorant that the Italians
pretend to a mathematical exactness in their designa-
tions of one particular sort of character among them,
from the forie or piano of a certain wind-instrument
they use, — which they say is infallible. — I dare not
mention the name of the instrument in this place ;
— 'tis sufficient we have it amongst us, — but never
think of making a drawing by it ; — this is aenigmatical,
and intended to be so, at least ad populiim : — And
therefore, I beg, Madam, when you come here, that
you read on as fast as you can, and never stop to make
any inquiry about it.
There are others again, who will draw a man's
78 THE LIFE AND OPINIONS
character from no other helps in the world, but merely
from his evacuations ; — but this often gives a very-
incorrect outline, — unless, indeed, you take a sketch of
his repletions too ; and by correcting one drawing from
the other, compound one good figure out of them both.
I should have no objection to this method, but that
I think it must smell too strong of the lamp, — and be
render'd still more operose, by forcing you to have
an eye to the rest of his Non-naturals. Why the
most natural actions of a man's life should be called his
Non-naturals, — is another question.
There are others, fourthly, who disdain every one
of these expedients ; — not from any fertility of their
own, but from the various ways of doing it, which they
have borrowed from the honourable devices which the
Pentagraphic Brethren* of the brush have shewn in
taking copies. — These, you must know, are your great
historians.
One of these you will see drawing a full-length
character against the light ; — that's illiberal, — dishonest,
— and hard upon the character of the man who sits.
Others, to mend the matter, will make a drawing of
you in the Camera ; — that is most unfair of all, —
because, there you are sure to be represented in some
of your most ridiculous attitudes.
To avoid all and every one of these errors in giving
you my uncle Toby's character, I am determined to
draw it by no mechanical help whatever ; nor shall
my pencil be guided by any one wind-instrument which
ever was blown upon, either on this, or on the other
side of the ^Ips ; — nor will I consider either his
repletions or his discharges, — or touch upon his Non-
naturals ; — but, in a word, I will draw my uncle Toby's
character from his Hobby-Horse.
* Pentagraph, an instrument to copy Prints and Pictures
mechanically, and in any proportion.
OF TRISTRAM SHANDY. 79
Chapter vvi'o*
IF I was not morally sure that the reader must be
out of all patience for my uncle Toby's character,
1 would here previously have convinced him
that there is no instrument so fit to draw such a thing
with, as that which I have pitch'd upon.
A man and his Hobby-Horse, tho' I cannot say
that they act and re-act exactly after the same manner
in which the soul and body do upon each other : Yet
doubtless there is a communication between them of
some kind ; and my opinion rather is, that there is
something in it more of the manner of electrified bodies,
— and that, by means of the heated parts of the rider,
which come immediately into contact with the back of
the Hobby -Horse, — by long journeys and much fric-
tion, it so happens, that the body of the rider is at
length fill'd as full of Hobby-Horsical matter as it can
hold ; so that if you are able to give but a clear de-
scription of the nature of the one, you may form a pretty
exact notion of the genius and character of the other.
Now the Hobby-Horse which my uncle Toby
always rode upon, was in my opinion an Hobby-Horse
well worth giving a description of, if it was only upon
the score of his great singularity ; — for you might
have tiavelled from 2"ori to Dover, — from Dover to
Penzance in Corniva/l, and from Penzance to Tori
back again, and not have seen such another upon the
road ; or if you had seen such a one, whatever haste
you had been in, you must infallibly have stopp'd to
have taken a view of him. Indeed, the gait and
figure of him was so strange, and so utterly unlike was
he, from his head to his tail, to any one of the whole
species, that it was now and then made a matter of
dispute, whether he was really a Hobby-Horse or
no : but as the Philosopher would use no other argu-
8o THE LIFE AND OPINIONS
ment to the Sceptic, who disputed with him against the
reahty of motion, save that of rising up upon his legs,
and walking across the room ; — so would my uncle
Toby use no other argument to prove his Hobby-Horse
was a HoBBY-HoRSE indeed, but by getting upon his
back and riding him about ; — leaving the world, after
that, to determine the point as it thought fit.
In good truth, my uncle Toby mounted him with so
much pleasure, and he carried my uncle Toby so well,
that he troubled his head very little with what
the world either said or thought about it.
It is now high time, however, that I give you a
description of him : — But to go on regularly, I only
beg you will give me leave to acquaint you first, how
my uncle Toby came by him.
Chapter jiy:^*
THE wound in my uncle Tobys groin, which he
received at the siege of Namur^ rendering him
unfit for the service, it was thought expedient
he should return to England, in order, if possible, to be
set to rights.
He was four years totally confined, — part of it to
his bed, and all of it to his room : and in the course of
his cure, which was all that time in hand, suffered un-
speakable miseries, — owing to a succession of exfolia-
tions from the os pubis, and the outward edge of that
part of the coxendlx called the os lU'ium, both which
bones were dismally crush'd, as much by the irregularity
of the stone, which I told you was broke oif the para-
pet,— as by its size, — (tho' it was pretty large) which
inclined the surgeon all along to think, that the great
injury which it had done my uncle Toby's groin, was
more owing to the gravity of the stone itself, than to
'V_y Uncle Toby.
OF TRISTRAxM SHANDY. 8 1
the projectile force of it, — which he would often tell
him was a great happiness.
My father at that time was just beginning business
in London^ and had taken a house ; — and as the truest
friendship and cordiality subsisted between the two
brothers, — and that my father thought my uncle Toby
could no where be so well nursed and taken care of as in
his own house, he assigned him the very best apart-
ment in it. — And what was a much more sincere mark
of his affection still, he would never suffer a friend or an
acquaintance to step into the house on any occasion, but
he would take him by the hand, and lead him up stairs
to see his brother Tohy^ and chat an hour by his bedside.
The history of a soldier's wound beguiles the pain of
it ; — my uncle's visitors at least thought so, and in their
daily calls upon 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 from them, and would
have received much more, but that they brought him into
some unforeseen perplexities, which, for three months
together, retarded his cure greatly ; and if he had not
hit upon an expedient to extricate himself out of them,
I verily believe they would have laid him in his grave.
What these perplexities of my uncle Toby were,
'tis impossible for you to guess ; — if you could, — I should
blush ; not as a relation, — not as a man, — nor even as
a woman, — but I should blush as an author ; inasmuch as
I set no small store by myself upon this very account, that
my reader has never yet been able to guess at any thing.
And in this. Sir, I am of so nice and singular a humour,
that if I thought you was able to form the least judgment
or probable conjecture to yourself, of what was to come
in the next page, — I would tear it out of my book.
I. F
BOOK IL
Cljaptcr u
1HA VE begun a new book, on purpose that I might
have room enough to explain the nature of the per-
plexities 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 counterscarp,
between the gate of St Nicolas^ which inclosed the great
sluice or water-stop, where the English were terribly ex-
posed 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 them-
selves 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 Namur^ the army of
the besiegers being cut off, by the confluence of the
Maes and Sambre, from seeing much of each other's
operations, my uncle Toby was generally more
eloquent and particular in his account of it ; and the
LIFE AND OPINIONS OF TRISTRAM SHANDY. S3
many perplexities he was in, arose out of the almost
insurmountable difficulties he found in telling his story
intelligibly, and giving such clear ideas of the differ-
ences 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 en-
deavours 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 clear-headed, 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 Nicolas, ex-
tending itself from the bank of the Maes, quite up to the
great water-stop, — the ground was cut and cross cut
with such a multitude of dykes, drains, rivulets, and
sluices, on all sides, — and he would get so sadly be-
wildered, and set fast amongst them, that frequently he
could neither get backwards or 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 Shanciy
more perturbations than you would imagine : and as
my father's kindness to him was continually dragging up
fresh friends and fresh enquirers, he had but a very
uneasy task of it.
No doubt my uncle Toby had great command of him-
self,— and could guard appearances, I believe, as well as
most men ; — yet any one may imagine, that when he
could not retreat out of the ravelin without getting into
84 THE LIFE AND OPINIONS
the half-moon, or get out of the covered-way without
falling down the counterscarp, nor cross the dyke with-
out danger of slipping into the ditch, but that he must
have fretted and fumed inwardly : — He did so ; — and
the little and hourly vexations, which may seem trifling
and of no account to the man who has not read Hippo-
crates, yet, whoever has read Hippocrates, or Dr James
Mackenzie, and has considered well the effects which
the passions and affections of the mind have upon the
digestion — (Why not of a wound as well as of a
dinner ?) — may easily conceive what sharp paroxysms
and exacerbations of his wound my uncle Toby must
have undergone upon that score only.
— My uncle Toby could not philosophize upon it ; —
'twas enough he felt it was so, — and having sustained
the pain and sorrows of it for three months together, he
was resolved some way or other to extricate himself.
He was one morning lying upon his back in his bed,
the anguish and nature of the wound upon his groin
sufi^ering him to lie in no other position, when a thought
came into his head, that if he could purchase such a
thing, and have it pasted down upon a board, as a large
map of the fortification of the town and citadel of Namur,
with its environs, it might be a means of giving him ease.
— I take notice of his desire to have the environs along
with the town and citadel, for this reason, — because my
uncle Toby's wound was got in one of the traverses,
about thirty toises from the returning angle of the trench,
opposite to the salient angle of the demi-bastion of St
Rock : so that he was pretty confident he could stick
a pin upon the identical spot of ground where he was
standing on when the stone struck him.
All this succeeded to his wishes, and not only freed
him from a world of sad explanations, but, in the end, it
proved the happy means, as you will read, of procuring
my uncle Toby his Hobby-Horse.
OF TRISTRAM SHANDY. 85
Cl^apter iu
THERE is nothing so foolish, when you are at the
expence of making an entertainment of this kind,
as to order things bO badly, as to let your criticks
and gentry of refined taste run it down : Nor is there
any thing so likely to make them do it, as that of leaving
them out of the party, or, what is full as offensive, of
bestowing your attention upon the rest of your guests in
so particular a wa}'-, as if there was no such thing as a
critick (by occupation) at table.
1 guard against both ; for, in the first place, I
have left half a dozen places purposely open for them ; — •
and in the next place, I pay them all court. — Gentlemen,
I kiss your hands, I protest no company could give me
half the pleasure, — by my soul I am glad to see you
1 beg only you will make no strangers of your-
selves, but sit down without any ceremony, and fall on
heartily.
I said I had left six places, and I was upon the point
of carrying my complaisance so far, as to have left a
seventh open for them, — and in this very spot I stand
on ; but being told by a Critick, (tho' not by occupa-
tion,— but by nature) that I had acquitted myself well
enough, I shall fill it up directly, hoping, in the mean
time, that I shall be able to make a great deal of more
room next year.
How, in the name of wonder ! could your
uncle Tol^yy who, it seems, was a military man, and
whom you have represented as no fool, be at the same
time such a confused, pudding-headed, muddle-headed,
fellow, as — Go look.
So, Sir Ciitick, I could have replied ; but I scorn
it. — 'Tis language unurbane, — and only befitting the
man who cannot give clear and satisfactory accounts of
86 THE LIFE AND OPINIONS
things, or dive deep enough into the first causes of human
ignorance and confusion. It is moreover the reply
valiant — and therefore I reject it : for tho' it might
have suited my uncle Toly s character as a soldier excel-
lently well, — and had he not accustomed himself, in
such attacks, to whistle the Lillabttllero, as he wanted no
courage, 'tis the very answer he would have given ; yet it
would by no means have done for me. You see as plain
as can be, that I write as a man of erudition ; — that even
my similies, my allusions, my illustrations, my meta-
phors, are erudite, — and that I must sustain my character
properly, and contrast it properly too, — else what would
become of me ? Why, Sir, I should be undone ; — at
this very moment that I am going here to fill up one
place against a critick, — I should have made an opening
for a couple.
Therefore I answer thus :
Pray, Sir, in all the reading which you have ever
read, did you ever read such a book as Lockers Essay
upon the Human Understanding ? Don't answer me
rashly — because many, I know, quote the book, who
have not read it — and many have read it who understand
it not : — If either of these is your case, as I write to in-
struct, I will tell you in three words what the book is.
— It is a history. — A history ! ot who ? what ? where ?
when ? Don't hurry yourself — — It is a history-book,
Sir, (which may possibly recommend it to the world)
of what passes in a man's own mind ; and if you will
say so much of the book, and no more, believe me, you
will cut no contemptible figure in a metaphysick circle.
But this by the way.
Now if you will venture to go along with me, and
look down into the bottom of this matter, it will be
found that the cause of obscurity and confusion, in the
mind of a man, is threefold.
Dull organs, dear Sir, in the first place. Secondly,
OF TRISTRAM SHANDY. 87
slight and transient impressions made by the objects,
when the said organs are not dull. And thirdly, a
memory like unto a sieve, not able to retain what it has
received. — Call down Dolly your chamber-maid, and I
will give you my cap and bell along with it, if I make
not this matter so plain that Dolly herself should under-
stand it as well as MaWranch. When Dolly has
indited her epistle to Robin, and has thrust her arm into
the bottom of her pocket hanging by her right side ; —
take that opportunity to recollect that the organs and
faculties of perception can, by nothing in this world,
be so aptly typified and explained as by that one thing
which Dolly s hand is in search of. — Your organs are
not so dull that I should inform you — 'tis an inch. Sir,
of red seal- wax.
When this is melted and dropped upon the letter, if
Dolly fumbles too long for her thimble, till the wax is
over hardened, it will not receive the mark of her
thimble from the usual impulse which was wont to
imprint it. Very well. If Dolly s wax, for want of
better, is bees- wax, or of a temper too soft, — tho' it may
receive, — it will not hold the impression, how hard
soever Dolly thrusts against it ; and last of all, supposing
the wax good, and eke the thimble, but applied thereto
in careless haste, as her Mistress rings the bell ; in
any one of these three cases the print left by the thimble
will be as unlike the prototype as a brass-jack.
Now you must understand that not one of these was
the true cause of the confusion in my uncle Tohy s dis-
course ; and it is for that very reason I enlarge upon
them so long, after the manner of great physiologists —
to shew the world, what it did not arise from.
What it did arise from, I have hinted above, and a
fertile source of obscurity it is, — and ever will be, — -
and that is the unsteady uses of words, which have per-
plexed the clearest and most exalted understandings.
88 THE LIFE AND OPINIONS
It is ten to one (at Arthur s) whether you have ever
read the Hterary histories of past ages ; — if you have,
what terrible battles, 'yclept logomachies, have they
occasioned and perpetuated with so much gall and
ink-shed, — that a good-natured man cannot read the
accounts of them without tears in his eyes.
Gentle critick ! when thou hast weighed all this,
and considered within thyself how much of thy own
knowledge, discourse, and conversation has been pes-
tered and disordered, at one time or other, by this, and
this only : — What a pudder and racket in Councils
about obaia and VTrooraaig ; 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 and his counterscarp ;
— his glacis and his covered way ; — his ravelin and his
half-moon : 'Twas not by ideas, — by Heaven j his life
was put in jeopardy by words.
WHEN my uncle Toby got his map of Namur
to his mind, he began immediately to apply
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 talk upon it without emotion.
OF TRISTRAM SHANDY. 89
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 Goheslus's military architecture and pyroballogy,
translated from the Flemish^ to form his discourse with
passable perspicuity ; and before he was two full 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 far as Vauban s line,
the abbey of Salsines^ &c., and give his visitors as dis-
tinct a history of each of their attacks, as of that of the
gate of St Nicolas, where he had the honour to receive
his wound.
But desire of knowledge, like the thirst of riches,
increases ever with the acquisition of it. The more
ray 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-butterflied, and be-
fiddled.
The more my uncle Toby drank of this 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 demoli-
tions, their improvements, and new works, all which
he would read with that intense application and delight,
90 THE LIFE AND OPINIONS
that he would forget himself, his wound, his confinement,
his dinner.
In the second year my uncle Toby purchased Ramelli
and Cataneoy translated from the Italian ; — likewise
Stevlnus, Moralis^ the Chevalier de VUle^ Loriniy
Cochorn, Sheeter, the Count de Pagarij the Marshal
Vauhan^ 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 Tohy found it neces-
sary to understand a little of projectiles : — and having
judged it best to draw his knowledge from the fountain-
head, he began with A^. 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 A^. Tartaglia proved to my uncle Tohy 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 enquire and find out
which road the ball did go : For which purpose he
was obliged to set off afresh with old Maltusy and
studied him devoutly. — He proceeded next to Galileo
and Torricell'ius, wherein, by certain Geometrical rules,
infallibly laid down, he found the precise part to be
a Parabola — or else an Hyperbola, — and that the
parameter, or latus rectum, of the conic section of the
said path, was to the quantity and amplitude in a direct
ratio, as the whole line to the sine of double the angle
of incidence, formed by the breech upon an horizontal
plane ; — and that the semiparameter, stop ! my dear
uncle Toby stop ! — go not one foot farther into
this thorny and bewildered track, — intricate are the
OF TRISTRAM SHANDY, 9 1
Steps ! intricate are the mazes of this labyrinth ! intricate
are the troubles which the pursuit of this bewitching
phantom Knowledge will bring upon thee. — O my
uncle ; — fly — fly, fly from it as from a serpent. Is
it fit good-natured man ! thou should'st sit up,
with the wound upon thy groin, whole nights baking
thy blood with hectic watchings r Alas ! 'twill
exasperate thy symptoms, — check thy perspirations — •
evaporate thy spirits — v/aste thy animal strength, — dry
up thy radical moisture, bring thee into a costive habit
of body, impair thy health, and hasten all the
infirmities of thy old age. O my uncle ! my uncle
Toby.
I WOULD not give a groat for that man's knowledge
in pen-craft, who does not understand this,
That the best plain narrative in the world, tacked
very close to the last spirited apostrophe to my uncle
Toby would have felt both cold and vapid upon
the reader's palate ; — therefore I forthwith put an end
to the chapter, though I was in the middle of my
story.
Writers of my stamp have one principle in
common with painters. Where an exact copying makes
our pictures less striking, we choose the less evil ; deem-
ing it even more pardonable to trespass against truth,
than beauty. This is to be understood cum grano salis;
but be it as it will, — as the parallel is made more for the
sake of letting the apostrophe cool, than any thing else,
— 'tis not very material whether upon any other score
the reader approves of it or not.
In the latter end of the third year, my uncle Toby
perceiving that the parameter and semi-parameter of the
92 THE LIFE AND OPINIONS
conic section angered his wound, he left off the study
of projectiles in a kind of a huff, and betook himself to
the practical part of fortification only ; the pleasure of
which, like a spring held back, returned upon him with
redoubled force.
It was in this year that my uncle began to break in
upon the daily regularity of a clean shirt, to dismiss
his barber unshaven, and to allow his surgeon scarce
time sufficient to dress his wound, concerning himself so
little about it, as not to ask him once in seven times
dressing, how it went on : when, lo ! — all of a sudden,
for the change was quick as lightning, he began to sigh
heavily for his recovery, complained to my father,
grew impatient with the surgeon ; and one morning,
as he heard his foot coming up stairs, he shut up his
books, and thrust aside his instruments, in order to
expostulate with him upon the protraction of the cure,
which, he told him, might surely have been accomplished
at least by that time : — He dwelt long upon 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 chearings of the
best of brothers, — he had long since sunk under his
misfortunes. My father was by : My uncle Tohy* s
eloquence brought tears into his eyes ; 'twas unex-
pected : My uncle Toby, by nature was not eloquent ;
— it had the greater effect : The surgeon was con-
founded ; not that there wanted grounds for such,
or greater marks of impatience, — but 'twas unexpected
too ; in the four years he had attended him, he had never
seen any thing hke it in my uncle Tobys carriage ; he
had never once dropped one fretful or discontented
word ; he had been all patience, — all submission.
— We lose the right of complaining sometimes by
forbearing it ; — but we often treble the force : — The
surgeon was astonished ; but much more so, when he
OF TRISTRAM SHANDY. 93
heard my uncle Toby go on, and peremptorily insist
upon his healing up the wound directly, — or sending
for Monsieur Ronjaty the king's serjeant-surgeon, to do
it for him.
The desire of life and health is implanted in man's
nature ; the love of liberty and enlargement is a
sister-passion to it : These my uncle Toby had in
common with his species ; and either of them had
been sufficient to account for his earnest desire to get
well and out of doors ; but I have told you before,
that nothing wrought with our family after the common
way ; and from the time and manner in which this
eager desire shewed itself in the present case, the pene-
trating reader will suspect there was some other cause
or crotchet for it in my uncle Toby s head : There
was so, and 'tis the subject of the next chapter to set
forth what that cause and crotchet was. I own, when
that's done, 'twill be time to return back to the parlour
fire-side, where we left my uncle Toby in the middle of
his sentence.
WHEN a man gives himself up to the government
of a ruling passion, — or, in other words, when
his HoBBY-HoRSE grows headstrong,
farewel cool reason and fair discretion !
My uncle Toby^s wound was near well, and as soon
as the surgeon recovered his surprize, and could get leave
to say as much he told him, 'twas just beginning
to incarnate ; and that if no fresh exfoliation 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 of
shorter duration to my uncle Toby's mind. The
94 THE LIFE AND OPINIONS
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 dressings, and hire a chariot-and-four to be
at the door exactly by twelve o'clock that day, when
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 — he packed up his maps, his books of forti-
fication, his instruments, &c., and by the help of a
crutch on one side, and Trim on the other, my
uncle Toby embarked for Shandy-Hall,
The reason, or rather the rise of this sudden demi-
gration was as follows :
The table in my uncle Tohy s room, and at which,
the night before this change happened, he was sitting
with his maps, &c., about him — being somewhat of the
smallest, for that infinity of great and small instruments
of knowledge which usually lay crowded upon it — he
had the accident, in reaching over for his tobacco-
box, to throw down his compasses, and in stooping to
take the compasses up, with his sleeve he threw down
his case of instruments and snuffers ; — and as the dice
took a run against him, in his endeavouring to catch
the snuffers in falling, he thrust Monsieur Blondel
off the table, and Count de Pagan o'top of him.
'Twas to no purpose for a man, lame as my uncle
Tohy was, to think of redressing these evils by himself,
— he rung his bell for his man Trim ; Trim,
quoth my uncle Tohy, prithee see what confusion I
have here been making — I must have some better con-
trivance. Trim. Can'st not thou take my rule, and
measure the length and breadth of this table, and then
OF TRISTRAM SHANDY. 95
go and bespeak me one as. big again ? Yes, an'
please your Honour, replied 7r/w, making a bow ; but
I hope your Honour will be soon well enough to get
down to your country-seat, where, — as your Honour
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 7r/m, had
been a corporal in my uncle's own company, — his real
name was James Butler^ — but having got the nick-name
of Trim in the regiment, my uncle Tohy^ 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 for his servant ; and of an ex-
cellent use was he, attending my uncle Toby in the
camp and in his quarters as a valet, groom, barber,
cook, sempster, and nurse ; and indeed, from first to
last, waited upon him and served him with great fidelity
and affection.
My uncle Toby loved the man in return, and what
attached him more to him still, was the similitude of
their knowledge. For Corporal Trim, (for so, for
the future, I shall call him) by four years occasional
attention to his Master's discourse upon fortified towns,
and the advantage of prying and peeping continually
into his Master's plans, &c., exclusive and besides
what he gained Hobby- Horsically, as a body-servant,
Non Hobby Horsical per se ; had become no mean
proficient in the science ; and was thought, by the
cook and chamber-maid, to know as much of the
nature of strong-holds as my uncle Toby himself.
96 THE LIFE AND OPINIONS
I have but one more stroke to give to finish Corporal
Tr'wCs character, and it is the only dark line in it.
— The fellow loved to advise, — or rather to hear him-
self talk ; his carriage, however, was so perfectly-
respectful, 'twas easy to keep him silent when you had
him so ; but set his tongue a-going, — you had no hold
of him — he was voluble ; — the eternal interlardings of
your Honour, with the respectfulness of Corporal Trim's
manner, interceding so strong in behalf of his elocution,
— that though you might have been incommoded,
you could not well be angry. My uncle Toby
was seldom either the one or the other with him, — or,
at least, this fault, in Trim, broke no squares with
them. My uncle Toby, as I said, loved the man ;
and besides, as he ever looked upon a faithful
servant, — but as an humble friend, — he could not bear
to stop his mouth. Such was Corporal Trim.
If I durst presume, continued Trim, to give your
Honour my advice, and speak my opinion in this
matter. — Thou art welcome, Trim, quoth my uncle
Toby — speak, speak what thou thinkest upon the
subject, man, without fear. Why then, replied Trim,
(not hanging his ears and scratching his head like a
country- lout, but) stroking his hair back from his
forehead, and standing erect as before his division,
— I think, quoth Trim, advancing his left, which was
his lame leg, a little forwards, — and pointing with his
right hand open towards a map of Dunkirk, which was
pinned against the hangings, 1 think, quoth Cor-
poral Trim, with humble submission to your Honour's
better judgment, that these ravelins, bastions,
curtins, and hornworks, make but a poor, contemp-
tible, fiddle-faddle piece of work of it here upon paper,
compared to what your Honour and I could make of
it were we in the country by ourselves, and had but a
rood, or a rood and a half of ground to do what we
OF TRISTRAM SHANDY. 97
pleased with : As summer is coming on, continued
Trim, your Honour might sit out of doors, and give
me the nography — (Call it ichnography, quoth my
uncle,) of the town or citadel, your Honour was
pleased to sit down before, — and I will be shot by
your Honour upon the glacis of it, if I did not fortify
it to your Honour's mind 1 dare say thou would'st.
Trim, quoth my uncle. — For if your Honour, con-
tinued the Corporal, could but mark me the polygon,
with its exact lines and angles — That I could do very
well, quoth my uncle. — I would begin with the fosse,
and if your Honour could tell me the proper depth and
breadth — I can to a hair's breadth, Trim, replied my
uncle. — I would throw out the earth upon this hand
towards the town for the scarp, — and on that hand
towards the campaign for the counterscarp. — Very
right. Trim, quoth my uncle Toby : And when I
had sloped them to your mind, an' please your
Honour, I would face the glacis, as the finest forti-
fications are done in Flanders, with sods, -and as
your Honour knows they should be, — and I would
make the walls and parapets with sods too. — The best
engineers call them gazons. Trim, said my uncle Toby.
Whether they are gazons or sods, is not much
matter, repHed Trim ; your Honour knows they are
ten times beyond a facing either of brick or stone.
1 know they are. Trim, in some respects,
quoth my uncle Toby, nodding his head ; — for a
cannon-ball enters into the gazon right onwards, with-
out bringing any rubbish down with it, which might
fill the fosse, (as was the case at St Nicolas^ s gate)
and facilitate the passage over it.
Your Honour understands these matters, replied
Corporal Trim, better than any officer in his Majesty's
service ; but would your Honour please to let the
bespeaking of the table alone, and let us but go into the
I. G
98 THE LIFE AND OPINIONS
country, I would work under your Honour's direc-
tions like a horse, and make fortifications for you
something like a tansy, with all 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 Toly blushed as red as scarlet as Trim
went on ; — but it was not a blush of guilt, — of modesty,
— or of anger, — it was a blush of joy ; — he was fired
with Corporal Trim s project and description.
Trim ! said my uncle Tohy^ 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 Tohy, say no more. Your Honour,
continued Tr'im^ might sit in your arm-chair (pointing
to it) this fine weather, giving me your orders, and I
would Say no more. Trim, quoth my uncle Tohy
Besides, your Honour would get not only pleasure
and good pastime, — but good air, and good exercise,
and good health, — and your Honour's wound would be
well in a month. Thou hast said enough. Trim, — quoth
my uncle Tohy (putting his hand into his breeches-
pocket) 1 like thy project mightily. — And if your
Honour 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-axe, and a couple of Say no more,
Trim, quoth my uncle Tohy, leaping up upon one leg,
quite overcome with rapture, — and thrusting a guinea
into Tr'mis hand, — Tr'un, said my uncle Tohy, 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 : — Trms plan of operation ran so
in my uncle Tobys head, he could not taste it. — Trim,
quoth my uncle Tohy, get me to bed. — 'Twas all one.
— Corporal Trms description had fired his imagination.
OF TRISTRAM SHANDY. 99
• — my uncle Toiy could not shut his eyes. — The more
he considered it, the more bewitching the scene appeared
to him ; — so that, two full houi's before day-light, he
had come to a final determination, and had concerted
the whole plan of his and Corporal Trim's decamp-
ment.
My uncle Toby had a little neat country-house of
his own, in the village where my father's estate lay at
Shandy^ which had been left him by an old uncle, with
a small estate 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 Tobys fancy ;
— which was the physical cause of making him change
colour, 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 this self-same 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 mortal 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 pre-conceived in my uncle Tobys 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
lOO THE LIFE AND OPINIONS
this matter, with the history of their campaigns,
which were no way barren of events, may make no
uninteresting under-plot in the epitasis and working-up
of this drama. — At present the scene must drop, — and
change for the parlour fire- side.
Copter iju
What can they be doing, brother ? said my
father. — I think, rephed my uncle Tohy^ — taking, as
I told you, his pipe from his mouth, and striking the
ashes out of it as he began his sentence ; 1 think,
replied he, — it would not be amiss, brother, if we rung
the bell.
Pray, what's all that racket over our heads, Ohad'iah ?
quoth my father ; my brother and I can scarce
hear ourselves speak.
Sir, answered Ohad'iahy making a bow towards his
left 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 man-midwife,
with all our services, and let him know your mistress
is fallen into labour and that I desire he will return
with you with all speed.
It is very strange, says my father, addressing himself
to my uncle 2'oby, 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 humour of hers, in trusting the life of my
child, who has had one misfortune already, to the
ignorance of an old woman j and not only the
OF TRISTRAM SHANDY. 10 1
life of my child, brother, but her own life, and
with it the lives of all the children I might, per-
ad venture, have begot out of her hereafter.
Mayhap, brother, replied my uncle Toby, my sister
does it to save the expence : — 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 contrar}^, my uncle Toby had not fully
arrived at the period's end, — then the world stands in-
debted to the sudden snapping of my father's tobacco-
pipe for one of the neatest examples of that ornamental
figure in oratory, which Rhetoricians stile the ylpo-
siopesis. Just Heaven ! how does the Poco p'lu and
the 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 statute ! How do the
slight touches of the chisel, the pencil, the pen, the
fiddle-stick, et catera, — give the true swell, which gives
the true pleasure ! — O my countrymen ; — be nice ; — be
cautious of your language ; — and never, O ! never let
it be forgotten upon what small particles your eloquence
and your fame depend.
" My sister, mayhap," quoth my uncle Toby,
" does not choose to let a man come so near her
****." Make this dash, — 'tis an Aposlopesis. — Take
the dash away, and write Backside, 'tis Bawdy. —
Scratch Backside out, and put Cover d tuay in, 'tis a
I02 THE LIFE AND OPINIONS
Metaphor ; — and, I dare say, as fortification ran so
much in my uncle Toby s head, that if he 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 througli accident or anger, will be
seen in due time.
Chapter bij.
THO' my father was a good natural philosopher, —
yet he was something of a moral philosopher
too ; for which 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 his legs to
do it.
This looked something like heat ; — and the manner
of his reply to what my uncle Toby was saying, proved
it was so.
— " Not choose," quoth my father, (repeating my
uncle Tobys 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 already without it. Why ? Where ?
Wherein ? Wherefore ? Upon what account ?
replied my uncle Toby, in the utmost astonishment. —
To think, said my father, of a man living to your age,
brother, and knowing so little about women ! 1
know nothing at all about them, — replied my uncle
OF TRISTRAM SHANDY. 103
Toly : And I think, continued lie, that the shock I
received the year after tlie demoHtion of Dunhirh, in
my affair with widow W adman ; — which shock you
know I should not have received, but from my total
ignorance of the sex, — has given me just cause to
say, That I neither know nor do pretend to know any
thing about 'em or their concerns either. — Methinks,
brother, replied my father, you might, at least, know so
much as the right end of a woman from the wrong.
It is said in Aristotle s Master P'lece^ " That when
a man doth think of any thing which is past, he
looketh down upon the ground ; but that when he
thinketh of something that is to come, he looketh up
towards the heavens.'*
My uncle Tohy^ I suppose, thought of neither, for
he look'd horizontally. — Right end ! quoth my uncle
Tohy^ muttering the two words low to himself, and
fixing his two eyes insensibly as he muttered them,
upon a small crevice, formed by a bad joint in the
chimney-piece Right end of a woman ! 1 de-
clare, quoth ray uncle, I know no more which it is
than the man in the moon ; and if I was to think,
continued my uncle Toby (keeping his eye still fixed
upon the bad joint) this month together, I am sure I
should not be able to find it out.
Then, brother Tohy^ replied my father, I will tell you.
Every thing in this world, continued my father
(filling a fresh pipe) — every thing in this world, my
dear brother Tohy^ has two handles. Not always,
quoth my uncle Toby. At least, replied my father,
every one has two hands, which comes to the same
thing. Now, if a man was to sit down coolly, and
consider within himself the make, the shape, the con-
struction, come-at-ability, and convenience of all. the
parts which constitute the whole of that animal, called
Woman, and compare them analogically 1 never
I04 THE LIFE AND OPINIONS
understood rightly the meaning of that word, — quoth
my uncle Toby. —
Analogy, replied my father, is the certain relation
and agreement which different Here a devil of a
rap at the door snapped my father's definition (like
his tobacco-pipe) in two, — and, at the same time,
crushed the head of as notable and curious a disser-
tation as ever was engendered in the womb of specu-
lation ; — it was some months before my father could
get an opportunity to be safely delivered of it : — And,
at this hour, it is a thing full as problematical as the
subject of the dissertation itself, — (considering the con-
fusion and distresses of our domestick misadventures,
which are now coming thick one upon the back of
another) whether I shall be able to find a place for
it in the third volume or not.
1
T is about an hour and a half's tolerable good reading
since my uncle Toby rung the bell, when Obadiah
was ordered to saddle a horse, and go for Dr
Slop, the man-midwife ; — so that no one can say, with
reason, that I have not allowed Obadiah time enough,
poetically speaking, and considering the emergency too,
both to go and come ; though, morally and truly
speaking, the man perhaps has scarce had time to get
on his boots.
If the hypercritick will go upon this ; and is resolved
after all to take a pendulum, and measure the true
distance betwixt the ringing of the bell, and the rap at
the door ; — and, after finding it to be no more than
two minutes, thirteen seconds, and three fifths, — should
take upon him to insult over me for such a breach in
OF TRISTRAM SHANDY. I05
the unity, or rather probablKty of time ; — I would re-
mind him, that the idea of duration, and of its simple
modes, is got merely from the train and succession of
our ideas, and is the true scholastic pendulum,
and by which, as a scholar, I will be tried in this
matter, — abjuring and detesting the jurisdiction of all
other pendulums whatever.
I would therefore desire him to consider that it is
but poor eight miles from Shandy-Hall to Dr Slop,
the man-midwife's house ; — and that whilst Ohadiah
has been going those said miles and back, I have brought
my uncle Toby from Namur, quite across all Flanders,
into England: — That I have had him ill upon my
hands near four yours ; — and have since travelled him
and Corporal Trim in a chariot-and-four, a journey of
near two hundred miles down into Torkshlre, all
which put together, must have prepared the reader's
imagination for the entrance of Dr Slop upon the
stage, — as much, at least (I hope) as a dance, a song,
or a concerto between the acts.
If my hypercritick is intractable, alledging, that two
minutes and thirteen seconds are no more than two
minutes and thirteen seconds, — when I have said all I
can about them ; and that this plea, though it might
save me dramatically, will damn me biographically,
rendering my book from this very moment, a professed
Romance, which, before, was a book apocryphal :
If I am thus pressed — I then put an end to the whole
objection and controversy about it all at once, by
acquainting him, that Ohadiah had not got above three-
score yards from the stable-yard before he met with
Dr Slop ; — and indeed he gave a dirty proof that he
had met with him, and was within an ace of giving a
tragical one too.
Imagine to yourself; — but this had better begin a
new chapter.
I06 THE LIFE AND OPINIONS
Chapter ij:*
IMAGINE to yourself a little squat, uncourtly
figure of a Doctor Slopf of about four feet and a
half perpendicular height, with a breadth of back,
and a sesquipedality of belly, which might have done
honour to a serjeant in the horse-guards.
Such were the out-lines of Dr S/op's figure, which,
— if you have read Hogarth'' s analysis of beauty, and if
you have not, I wish you would ; you must know,
may as certainly be caricatured, and conveyed to the
mind by three strokes as three hundred.
Imagine such a one, tor such, I say, were the
outlines of Dr Slofs figure, coming slowly along, foot
by foot, waddling thro' the dirt upon the vertebras of
a little diminutive pony, of a pretty colour but of
strength, alack ! scarce able to have made an
amble of it, under such a fardel, had the roads been in
an ambling condition. They were not. Imagine
to yourself, Obadiah mounted upon a strong monster of
a coach-horse, pricked into a full gallop, and making
all practicable speed the adverse way.
Pray, Sir, let me interest you a moment in this
description.
Had Dr Slop beheld Obadiah a mile off, posting in
a narrow lane directly towards him, at that monstrous
rate, — splashing and plunging like a devil thro' thick
and thin, as he approached, would not such a phseno-
menon, with such a vortex of mud and water moving
along with it, round its axis, — have been a subject of
juster apprehension to Dr Slop in his situation, than
the worst of Whiston s comets ? — To say nothing of
the Nucleus ; that is, of Obadiah and the coach-horse.
— In my idea, the vortex alone of 'em was enough to
have involved and carried, if not the doctor, at least
OF TRISTRAM SHANDY. I07
the doctor's pony, quite away with it. What then do
you think must the terror and hydrophobia of Dr Slop
have been, when you read (which you are just going
to do) that he was advancing thus warily along towards
Shandy-Hall, and had approached to within sixty yards
of it, and within five yards of a sudden turn, made by
an acute angle of the garden-wall, — and in the dirtiest
part of a dirty lane, — when Ohadiah and his coach-
horse turned the corner, rapid, furious, — pop, — full
upon him ! — Nothing, I think, in nature, can be
supposed more terrible than such a rencounter, — so
imprompt ! so ill prepared to stand the shock of it as
Dr Slop was.
What could Dr Slop do ? he crossed himself
-\ Pugh ! — but the doctor. Sir, was a Papist. — No
matter ; he had better have kept hold of the pummel.
— He had so ; — nay, as it happened, he had better
have done nothing at all ; for in crossing himself he
let go his whip, and in attempting to save his whip
betwixt his knee and his saddle's skirt, as it slipped, he
lost his stirrup, in losing which he lost his seat ;
and in the multitude of all these losses (which, by
the bye, shews what little advantage there is in cross-
ing) the unfortunate doctor lost his presence of mind.
So that without waiting for Ohadiah' s onset, he left his
pony to its destiny, tumbling off it diagonally, some-
thing in the stile and manner of a pack of wool, and
without any other consequence from the fall, save that
of being left (as it would have been) with the broadest
part of him sunk about twelve inches deep in the mire.
Ohadiah puU'd off his cap twice to Dr Slop ; —
once as he was falling, — and then again when he saw
him seated. Ill-timed complaisance ; — had not the
fellow better have stopped his horse, and got off and
help'd him ? — Sir, he did all that his situation would
allow ; — but the Momentum of the coach-horse was so
Io8 THE LIFE AND OPINIONS
great, that Obadlah could not do it all at once ; he rode
in a circle three times round Dr Slop, before he could
fully accomplish it any how ; — and at the last, when he
did stop his beast, 'twas done with such an explosion
of mud, that Ohadiah had better have been a league off.
In short, never was a Dr Slop so beluted, and so tran-
substantiated, since that affair came into fashion.
w
Cl^cipter j:,
HEN Dr Slop entered the back parlour,
where my father and my uncle Tohy were
discoursing upon the nature of women,
it was hard to determine whether Dr Slop' s figure, or
Dr Slofs presence, occasioned more surprize to them ;
for as the accident happened so near the house, as
not to make it worth while for Ohadiah to remount him,
Obadlah had led him in as he was, univiped, un-
appointed^ unannealed, with all his stains and blotches on
him. — He stood like Hamlet^ s ghost, motionless and
speechless, for a full minute and a half at the parlour-
door (Ohadiah still holding his hand) with all the
majesty of mud. His 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
Ohadiah* s explosion, that you would have sworn (with-
out mental reservation) that every grain of it had taken
effect.
Here was a fair opportunity for my uncle Tohy to
have triumphed over my father in his turn ; — for no
mortal, who had beheld Dr Slop in that pickle, could
have dissented from so much, at least, of my uncle
Tohy s opinion, " That mayhap his sister might not
care to let such a Dr Slop come so near her ****."
OF TRISTRAM SHANDY. lOg
But it was the Argumentum ad hom'inem ; and if my uncle
Toby was not very expert at it, you may think, he might
not care to use it. No ; the reason was, — 'twas not
his nature to insult.
Dr S/oJ)'s presence at that time, was no less prob-
lematical than the mode of it ; tho' it is certain, one
moment's reflexion in my father might have solved it ;
for he had apprized Dr S/oJ) but the week before, that
my mother was at her full reckoning ; and as the
doctor had heard nothing since, 'twas natural and very
political too in him, to have taken a ride to Shandy-
Hall, as he did, merely to see how matters went on.
But my father's mind took unfortunately a wrong
turn in the investigation ; running, Uke the hyper-
critick'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, as to
have power to think of nothing else, common-
place infirmity of the greatest mathematicians ! work-
ing with might and main at the demonstration, and so
wasting all their strength upon it, that they have none
left in them to draw the corollary, to do good with.
The ringing of the bell, and the rap upon the door,
struck likewise strong upon the sensorium of my uncle
Toby, — but it excited a very different train of thoughts ;
— the two irreconcileable pulsations instantly brought
Stevinus, the great engineer, along with them, into my
uncle Toby's mind. What business Stevinus had in
this affair, — is the greatest problem of all : It shall
be solved, — but not in the next chapter.
no THE LIFE AND OPINIONS
diapter vu
WRITING, when properly managed (as you
may be sure I think mine is) is but a diffe-
rent 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
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 com-
pliments 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 descrip-
tion of Dr Slop's sad overthrow, and of his sad appear-
ance in the back-parlour ; — his imagination must now
go on with it for a while.
Let the reader imagine then, that Dr Slop has told
his tale — and in what words, and with what aggrava-
tions, 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 obstetrick
hand; return it safe into thy bosom to keep it
warm ; little dost thou know what obstacles,
little dost thou think what hidden causes, retard its
OF TRISTRAM SHANDY. Ill
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-inventedybr<:^j5j-, — thy crotchety — thy
squirt, and all thy instruments of salvation and deliver-
ance, behind thee, — By Heaven ! at this moment they
are hanging up in a green bays bag, betwixt thy two
pistols, at the bed's head ! — Ring ; — call ; — send Ohadiah
back upon the coach-horse to bring them with all
-Make great haste, Oladiah, quoth my father.
and I'll give thee a crown ! — and quoth my uncle
Toby, I'll give him another.
YOUR sudden and unexpected arrival, quoth my
uncle Tohy, addressing himself to Dr Slop, (all
three of them sitting down to the fire together,
as my uncle Tohy began to speak) — instantly brought the
great Stevinus into my head, who, you must know, is
a favourite author with me. — Then, added my father,
making use of the argument Jld Crumenam, — I will lay
twenty guineas to a single crown-piece, (which will serve
to give away to Ohadiah 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 mc, I cannot see
112 THE LIFE AND OPINIONS
what kind of connection there can be betwixt Dr
Slop's sudden coming, and a discourse upon fortifica-
tion ; — yet I fearM it. — Talk of what we will, brother,
or let the occasion be never so foreign or unfit for
the subject, — you are sure to bring it in. I would not,
brother Toby, continued my father, 1 declare I
would not have my head so full of curtins 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 curtins my brother Shandy mentions here,
have nothing to do with bedsteads ; — tho', 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 horn- works of cuckoldom ; — But the Curtln, Sir,
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 attacks directly against the curtin, for this reason,
because they are so vjqW Jlanked. ('Tis the case of
other curtains, quoth Dr Slop, laughing.) However,
continued my uncle Toby, to make them sure, we
generally choose to place ravelins before them, taking
care only to extend them beyond the fosse or ditch :
The common men, who know very little of for-
tification, confound the ravelin and the half-moon to-
gether,— tho* they are very different things ; — not in
their figure or construction, for we make them exactly
OF TRISTRAM SHANDY. II3
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 curtin, it is a rave-
lin ; 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 half-moon, and no more, so long as
it stands before its bastion ; but was it to change
place, and get before the curtin, — 'twould be no longer
a half-moon ; a half-moon, in that case, is not a half-
moon ; — 'tis no more than a ravelin. 1 think, quoth
my father, that the noble science of defence has its weak
sides as well as others.
— As for the horn- work (high ! 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 a come, 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 en-
gage to shew 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 souse into the middle of the old subject
again : — But so full is your head of these confounded
works, that though my wife is this moment in the pains
of labour, and you hear her cry out, yet nothing will
1. H
114 THE LIFE AND OPINIONS
serve you but to carry off the man-midwife.-
jiccoucheur, — 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, pallisadoes, 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 intellec-
tual parts ; — for he felt this insult of my father's as
feelingly as a man could do ; — but he was of a peace-
ful, 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.
f, — Go — says he, one day at dinner, to an over-grown
\ one which had buzzed about his nose, and tormented
. him cruelly all dinner-time, — 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
I his chair, and going across the room, with the fly in his
hand, I'll not hurt a hair of thy head : — Go,
says he, lifting up the sash, and opening his hand as he
spoke, to let it escape ; — go, poor devil, get thee gone,
why should I hurt thee ? This world surely is
'A 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 at that age of pity, which instantly
OF TRISTRAM SHANDY. II5
set my whole frame Into one vibration of most pleasur-
able sensation ; — or how far the manner and expression
of it might go towards it ; — or in what degree, or by
what secret magick, — a tone of voice and harmony of
movement, attuned by mercy, might find a passage to my
heart, I know not ; — this I know, that the lesson of uni-
versal good- will then taught and imprinted by my uncle
Toby J has never since been worn out of my mind ; And
tho' I would not depreciate what the study of the
Litera human'wres, 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 whole volume 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 Hobby -Horsical likeness : this is a part of
his moral character. My father, in this patient endur-
ance 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 ; tho' this
never transported him to any thing which looked hke
mahgnancy : — yet in the little rubs and vexations of
life, 'twas apt to shew itself in a drollish and witty
kind of peevishness : He was, however, frank and
generous in his nature ; at all times open to con-
viction ; and in the little ebullitions of this subacid
humour 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 rny
aunt Dinah, or where an hypothesis was concerned)
than what he ever gave.
Il6 THE LIFE AND OPINIONS
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 Hobby-Horse is as tender a
part as he has about him ; and that these unprovoked
strokes at my uncle Tohy* s could not be unfelt by him.
No : as I said above, my uncle Tohy did
feel them, and very sensibly too.
Pray, Sir, what said he ? — How did he behave ? — O,
Sir ! — it was great : For as soon as my father had done
insulting his Hobby-Horse, he turned his head
without the least emotion, from Dr Slop^ to whom he
was addressing his discourse, and looking up into my
father's face, with a countenance spread over with so
much good-nature ; so placid ; so fraternal ;
so inexpressibly tender towards him : — it pene-
trated my father to his heart : He rose up hastily from
his chair, and seizing hold of both my uncle Tohf s
hands as he spoke : — Brother Tohy^ said he, — I beg
thy pardon ; forgive, I pray thee, this rash humour
which my mother gave me. My dear, dear brother,
answered my uncle Tohy, 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 ungene-
rous, 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 wel-
come, brother, quoth my uncle Tohy, had it been
fifty times as much. Besides, what have I to do,
my dear Tohy, cried my father, either with your amuse-
ments or your pleasures, unless it was in my power
(which it is not) to increase their measure?
Brother Shandy, answered my uncle Tohy, look-
ing wistfully in his face, you are much mistaken in
OF TRISTRAM SHAXDY. II7
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.
€I)apter y^iiu
MY brother does it, quoth my uncle Tobyy out of
principle. In a family way, I suppose, quoth
Dr Slop. Pshaw ! — said my father, — 'tis
not worth talking of.
Copter j:ib.
AT the end of the last chapter, my father 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 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 shew my
father that 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 sail-
Il8 THE LIFE AND OPINIONS
ing 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
Slevinus's account of it, because in my return from
Ley den thro* the Hague, I walked as far as SchevUng,
which is two long miles, on purpose to take a view
of it.
That's nothing, replied my uncle Toby, to what the
learned Peiresklus did, who walked a matter of five
hundred miles, reckoning from Parts to SchevUng, and
from Schev/ing to Paris back again, in order to see it, —
and nothing else.
Some men cannot bear to be out-gone.
The more fool Peiresklus, replied Dr Slop» But
mark, 'twas out of no contempt of Peiresklus at all ;
but that Peiresklus^ s indefatigable labour in trudg-
ing so far on foot, out of love for the sciences, reduced
the exploit of Dr Slop, in that affair, to nothing : —
the more fool Peiresklus, said he again. — ^^fhj 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 him-
self in the discourse. Why so ? said he. Why
is Peiresklus, or any man else, to be abused for an
appetite for that, or any other morsel of sound know-
ledge : For notwithstanding I know nothing of the
chariot in question, continued he, the inventor of it
must have had a very mechanical head ; and tho' I
cannot guess upon what principles of philosophy he has
atchieved it; — yet certainly his machine has been
constructed upon solid ones, be they what they will,
OF TRISTRAM SHANDY. II9
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 luas as sivift as the lu'tnd itself.
But pray, Dr Slopy quoth my father, interrupting
my uncle (tho' 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 our
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 tho', I own,
if I was a Prince, I would generously recompense the
scientifick 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 Toly had before, upon his of forti-
fication ; — but to the loss of much sound knowledge,
I20 THE LIFE AND OPINIONS
the destinies in the morning had decreed that no disser-
tation of any kind should be spun by my father that
day, for as he opened his mouth to begin the next
sentence.
Copter j:U»
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.
Corporal 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
Honour ; — 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 falling out, however, said Ti'im,
an' please your Honour ^ — 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
OF TRISTRAM SHANDY. 121
uncle Tohy^ for such a thing as a sermon to have got
into my Stevlnus,
I think 'tis a sermon, replied Trim ; — but if it please
your Honours, as it is a fair hand, I will read you a
page ; — for Tr'im^ you must know, loved to hear him-
self 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 Ohadiah 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 Honour, 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.
— If you have any objection, — said my father,
addressing himself to Dr Slop, Not in the least,
repHed 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 risques. 'Tis wrote upon neither side,
122 THE LIFE AND OPINIONS
quoth Trim^ for 'tis only upon Conscience^ an* please
your Honours.
Trim s reason put his audience into good-humour, —
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 Honour, replied the Corporal,
making a bow, and bespeaking attention with a slight
movement of his right hand.
But before the Corporal begins, I must first
give you a description of his attitude ; otherwise he
will naturally stand represented, by your imagination,
in an uneasy posture, — stiiF, — perpendicular, — dividing
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 a word, you would be apt to paint Trim, as if
he was standing in his platoon ready for action. — His
attitude was as unlike all this as you can conceive.
He stood before them with his body swayed, and
bent forwards just so far, as to make an angle of 85
degrees and a half upon the plain of the horizon ; —
which sound orators, to whom I address this, know
very well to be the true persuasive angle of incidence ;
— in any other angle you may talk and preach ; — 'tis
certain ; — and it is done every day ; — but with what
effect, — I leave the world to judge !
The necessity of this precise angle of 85 degrees
and a half to a mathematical exactness, does it not
shew us, by the way, how the arts and sciences mutually
befriend each other ?
OF TRISTRAM SHANDY.
123
How the duce Corporal Trim, who knew not so
much as an acute angle from an obtuse one, came to hit
it so exactly ; or whether it was chance or nature,
or good sense or imitation, &c., shall be commented
upon in that part of the cyclopsedia of arts and
sciences, where the instrumental parts of the eloquence
of the senate, the pulpit, and the bar, the coffee-house,
the bed-chamber, and fire- side, fall under considera-
tion.
He stood, for I repeat it, to take the picture of
him in at one view, with his body swayed, and some-
what bent forwards, — his right \eg from under him,
sustaining seven-eights of his whole weight, the
foot of his left leg, the defect of which was no disad-
vantage to his attitude, advanced a little, — not laterally,
nor forwards, but in a line betwixt them ; — his knee
bent, but that not violently, — but so as to fall within
the limits of the line of beauty ; — and I add, of the
line of science too ; — for consider, it had one eighth
part of his body to bear up ; — so that in this case the
position of the leg is determined, — because the foot
could be no farther advanced, or the knee more bent,
than what would allow him, mechanically to receive an
eighth part of his whole weight under it, and to carry
it too.
i^° This I recommend to painters : — need I add, —
to orators ! — I think not ; for unless they practise it,
-they must fall upon their noses.
So much for Corporal Trims body and legs.-
He held the sermon loosely, not carelessly, in his left
hand, raised something above his stomach, and detached
a little from his breast ; his right arm falling negli-
gently by his side, as nature and the laws of gravity
ordered it, but with the palm of it open and turned
towards his audience, ready to aid the sentiment in case
it stood in need.
124 THE LIFE AND OPINIONS
Corporal Trim s eyes and the muscles of his face
were in full harmony with the other parts of him ; —
he looked frank, — ^^unconstrained, — something assured,
— but not bordering upon assurance.
Let not the critic ask how Corporal Trim could
come by all this. I've told him it should be ex-
plained ; — but so he stood before my father, my uncle
Toby, and Dr Slop, — so swayed his body, so con-
trasted his limbs, and with such an oratorical sweep
throughout the whole figure, a statuary might
have modelled from it ; nay, I doubt whether the
oldest Fellow of a College, — or the Hebrew Professor
himself, could have much mended it.
Trim made a bow, and read as follows ;
The sermon.
Hebrews xiii. i8.
-For ive trust wf have a good Conscience,
" ' I 'RUST ! Trust we have a good con-
1^ science ! "
[Certainly, Trim, quoth my father, inter-
rupting him, you give that sentence a very improper
accent ; for you curl up your nose, man, and read it
with such a sneering tone, as if the Parson was going
to abuse the Apostle.
He is, an' please your Honour, replied Trim. Pugh !
said my father, smiling.
Sir, quoth Dr Slop, Trim is certainly in the right ;
for the writer (who I perceive is a Protestant) by the
snappish manner in which he takes up the apostle, is
certainly going to abuse him ; — if this treatment of him
has not done it already. But from whence, replied my
father, have you concluded so soon, Dr Slop, that the
OF TRISTRAM SHANDY. 1 25
writer is of our church ? — for aught I can sec yet, — he
may be of any church. Because, answered Dr Slop,
if he was of ours, — he durst no more take such a licence,
— than a bear by his beard : — If, in our communion.
Sir, a man was to insult an apostle, a saint, or
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 the Inquisition an ancient
building, answered my uncle Tohy, or is it a modern
one ? — I know nothing of architecture, replied Dr Slop.
— ^An' please your Honours, quoth Trim, the Inquisi-
tion 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
tho' 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 ? O, 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 Honour 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 married a Jew's widow, who kept
a small shop, and sold sausages, which somehow or
other, was the cause of his being taken 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
126 THE LIFE AND OPINIONS
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 Trims 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 great desire to know what kind of
provocation the apostle has given.
Corporal Trim wiped his face, and returned his hand-
kerchief into his pocket, and, making a bow as he did
it, — he began again. J
The sermon.
Hebrews xiii. 1 8.
For ^we trust lue have a good Conscience. —
" 'THRUST ! trust we have a good conscience !
I Surely if there is any thing in this life which a
man may depend upon, and to the knowledge
of which he is capable of arriving upon the most indis-
putable 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 remember
his past pursuits, and know certainly the true springs and
motives, which, in general, have governed the actions of
his life.''
OF TRISTRAM SHANDY. 1 27
[|I defy him, without an assistant, quoth Dr SIop.~\
** In other matters we may be deceived by false
appearances ; and, as the wise man complains, hardly
do ive guess aright at the things that are upon the earth,
and ivith labour do 'wejind 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 know-
ledge 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 proposition, — whenever this inward testimony goes
against a man, and he stands self-accused, that he must
necessarily be a guilty man. — And, on the contrary,
when the report is favourable 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 sup-
pose, 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.
128 THE LIFE AND OPINIONS
Go on, 7V/w, quoth my father.]]
" At first sight this may seem to be a true state 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 assures it may) insensibly become hard ;
— and, like some tender parts of his body, by much
stress and continual hard usage, lose by degrees that
nice sense and perception with which God and nature
endowed 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 favour and
affection enter this sacred Court : — Did Wit disdain
to take a bribe in it ; — or was ashamed to shew its face
as an advocate for an unwarrantable enjoyment : Or,
lastly, were we assured that Interest stood always un-
concerned whilst the cause was hearing — and that
Passion never got into the judgment-seat, and pro-
nounced sentence in the stead of Reason, which is
supposed always to preside and determine upon the
case : — Was this truly so, as the objection must
suppose ; — no doubt then the religious and moral 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 hypocon-
driac 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
OF TRISTRAM SHANDY. 1 29
true ; — namely, that whenever there is guilt, the con-
science 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 produce the common examples from human
life, which confirm the account.
" A man shall be vicious and utterly debauched 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 justify, 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 dishonour ; — but involve a whole vir-
tuous family in shame and sorrow 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 ! CoxsciENXE had something else to do all
this time, than break in upon him ; as Elijah reproached
the god Baalf this domestic god luas either talking,
or pursuing, or ivas in a Journey, or peradvsnture he slept
and could not be a'woke.
" Perhaps He was gone out in company with Honour.
to fight a duel : to pay off some debt at play ; or
dirty annuity, the bargain of his lust ; Perhaps Con-
130 THE LIFE AND OPINIONS
SCIENCE all this time was engaged at home, talking aloud
against petty larceny, and executing vengeance upon
some such puny crimes as his fortune and rank of life
secured him against all temptation of committing ; so
that he lives as merrily" [If he was of our church,
tho', quoth Dr SIop^ he could not^ — "sleeps as soundly
in his bed ; — and at last meets death as unconcernedly ;
— 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. 1 own, quoth Dr Slop^
(struck a little with my father's frank acknowledg-
ment)— 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 indiffer-
ence,— how a rascal dies. — I mean, answered Dr SIop^
he would be denied the benefits of the last sacraments.
— Pray how many have you in all, said my uncle Toby,
for I always forget ? Seven, answered Dr Slop.
Humph! — said my uncle Toby ; tho' not accented
as a note of acquiescence, — but as an interjection of
that particular species of surprize, 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, (stat-
ing my uncle Toby* s argument over again to him)
Why, Sir, are there not seven cardinal virtues ?
Seven mortal sins ? Seven golden candlesticks ?
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.
OF TRISTRAM SHAXDY. I3I
continued he, go on with the rest of thy characters,
Tr'im.'^
"Another is sordid, unmerciful," (here Trhn waved
his right hand) "a strait-hearted, selfish wretch, in-
capable 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 honours, 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 occasion,
/ pay every man his otvn ; — / have no fornication to
ansiver to my conscience ; — no faithless voius or promises
to make up ; — / have debauched no man s nvife or child ;
thank God, I am not as other men, adulterers, unjust, or
even as this libertine, ^who stands before me.
" A thii'd is crafty and designing in his nature. View
his whole life ; — 'tis nothing but a cunning contex-
ture of dark arts and unequitable subterfuges, basely to
defeat the true intent of all laws, plain-deahng and
the safe enjoyment of our several properties. You
will see such a one working out a frame of little designs
upon the ignorance and perplexities of the poor and
needy man ; — shall raise a fortune upon the inexperi-
ence of a youth, or the unsuspecting temper of his
friend, who would have trusted him with his life.
" When old age comes on, and repentance calls him
to look back upon this black account, and state it over
again with his conscience — Coxsciekce looks into the
Statutes at Large ; — finds no express law broken by
what he has done ; — perceives no penalty or forfeiture
of goods and chattels incurred ; — sees no scourge
waving over his head, or prison opening his gates upon
him : — What is there to affright his conscience ? — -
Conscience has got safely entrenched behind the Letter
132 THE LIFE AND OriNIONS
of the Law ; sits there invulnerable, fortified with
CafiCfi and Klcportfi so strongly on all sides ; — that it
is not preaching can dispossess it of its hold."
[Here Corporal Trim and my uncle Toby exchanged
looks with each other. — Aye, aye. Trim ! quoth my
uncle Tohy^ shaking his head, these are but sorry
fortifications. Trim. O ! very poor work, an-
swered Trim, to what your Honour and I make of it.
The character of this last man, said Dr Slop,
interrupting Trim, is more detestable than all the rest ;
and seems to have been taken from some pettifogging
Lawyer amongst you : — Amongst us, a man's con-
science could not possibly continue so long Winded,
three times in a year, at least, he must go to confession.
Will that restore it to sight ? quoth my uncle Tohy.
Go on. Trim, quoth my father, or Ohadiah 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 Tohy, for I like
it hugely. — Trim went on.]]
" A fourth man shall want even this refuge ; — shall
break through all their ceremony of slow chicane ;
scorns the doubtful workings of secret plots and cautious
trains to bring about his purpose : See the bare-
faced villain, how he cheats, lies, perjures, robs,
murders ! — Horrid ! — But indeed much better was not
to be expected, 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,
OF TRISTRAM SHANDY. 1 33
on every such act, receive a wound itself? — Aye, — 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. O 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 unwary traveller,
too apt, God knows, to go astray of himself ; and con-
fidently 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 degree of
detestation, numbers of wicked actions stand there, tho*
equally bad and vicious in their own natures ; — he
will soon find, that such of them as strong inclination
and custom have prompted him to commit, are gene-
rally 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 dishonour.
" When David surprized Saul sleeping in the cave,
and cut oflT the skirt of his robe — we read 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 honoured, 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
134 THE LIFE AND OPINIONS
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 monitor,
placed on high as a judge within us, and intended by
our Maker as a just and equitable one too, — by an un-
happy train of causes and impediments, takes often
such imperfect cognizance of what passes, does its
office so negligently, sometimes so corruptly, —
that it is not to be trusted alone ; and therefore we
find there is a necessity, an absolute necessity, o\
joining another principle with it, to aid, if not govern,
its determinations.
*' So that if you would form a just judgment 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 faithful
subject to your king, or a good servant to your God,
call in religion and morality. — Look, What is
written in the law of God ? How readest thou ?
— Consult calm reason and the unchangeable obliga-
tions 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 infallible ; " — [Here Dr Slop fell asleep] —
^^ thou iv'ilt ha've confidence tonvards God; that is,
have just grounds to believe the judgment thou hast
past upon thyself, is the judgment of God ; and no-
thing else but an anticipation of that righteous sentence
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 Ecclesiaslkus expresses it, 'who is not pricked
OF TRISTRAM SHANDY. 1 35
*wUh the multitude of his sins : Blessed is the man ivhose
heart hath not condemned him ; ivhcther he he rich, or
ivhether he he poor, if he have a good heart (a heart
thus guided and informed) he shall at all times rejoice
in a chearful countenance ; his mind shall tell him more
than seven nvatch-men that sit above upon a toiver on
high.^^ — [A tower has no strength, quoth my uncle
Toby, unless 'tis ilank'd.] — "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 behaviour than all the causes and restrictions put
together, which law-makers are forced to multiply : —
Forced, 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 consciences which are no law unto themselves ;
well intending, by the many provisions made, — that in
all such corrupt and 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 has fallen asleep before the time of his
conviction : — for it is now clear, that the Parson, as I
thought at first, never insulted St Paul in the least ; —
nor has there been, brother, the least difference between
them. A great matter, if they had differed, replied
my uncle Toby, — the b^st 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.
136 THE LIFE AND OPINIONS
I think, answered the Corporal, that the seven
watch-men upon the tower, who, I suppose, are all
centinels there, — are more, an' please your Honour,
than were necessary ; — and, to go on at that rate, would
harrass a regiment all to pieces, which a commanding
officer, who loves his men, will never do, if he can
help it, because two centinels, added the Corporal,
are as good as twenty. — I have been a commanding
officer 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 honour to
serve his Majesty King William, in relieving the most
considerable posts, I never left more than two in my
life. 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 curtin, in his time ;
or such a fosse as we make with a cuvette in
the middle of it, and with covered ways and counter-
scarps 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, but to defend it. — They
could be no more, an' please your Honour, 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
to read on. He read on as follows :]
"To have the fear of God before our eyes, and,
in our mutual dealings with each other, to govern our
actions by the eternal measures of right and wrong :
The first of these will comprehend the duties of
OF TRISTRAM SHANDY. 137
religion ; — the second, those of morality, which are so
inseparably connected together, that you cannot divide
these two tables, even in imagination, (tho' the attempt
is often made in practice) without breaking and mutu-
ally destroying them both.
" I said the attempt is often made ; and so it is ;
there being nothing more common than to see a
man who has no sense at all of religion, and indeed
has so much honesty as to pretend to none, who would
take it as the bitterest affront, should you but hint at a
suspicion of his moral character, or imagine he was
not conscientiously just and scrupulous to the uttermost
mite.
" When there is some appearance that it is so, —
tho' one is unwilling even to suspect the appearance of
so amiable a virtue as moral honesty, yet were we to
look into the grounds of it, in the present case, I am
persuaded we should find little reason to envy such a
one the honour of his motive.
" Let him declaim as pompously as he chooses upon
the subject, it will be found to rest upon no better
foundation than either his interest, his pride, his ease,
or some such little and changeable passion as will give
us but small dependence upon his actions in matters of
great distress.
" I will illustrate this by an example.
" I know the banker I deal with, or the physician I
usually call in," — [There is no need, cried Dr Slop,
(waking) to call in any physician in this case J "to
be neither of them men of much religion : I hear them
make a jest of it every day, and treat all its sanctions
with so much scorn, as to put the matter past doubt.
Well ; — notwithstanding this, I put my fortune into
the hands of the one : — and what is dearer still to' me,
I trust my life to the honest skill of the other.
" Now let me examine what is my reason for this
130 THE LIFE AND OPINIONS
great confidence. Why, in the first place, I believe
there is no probability that either of them will employ
the power I put into their hands to my disadvantage ;
— I consider that honesty serves the purposes of this
life r-i-I know their success in the world depends upon
the fairness of their characters. — In a word, I'm
persuaded that they cannot hurt me without hurting
themselves more.
" But put it otherwise, namely, that interest lay, for
once, on the other side ; that a case should happen,
wherein the one, without stain to his reputation, could
secrete my fortune, and leave me naked in the world ;
— or that the other could send me out of it, and enjoy
an estate by my death, without dishonour to himself
or his art : — In this case, what hold have I of either
of them ? — Religion, the strongest of all motives, is
out of the question ; — Interest, the next most powerful
motive in the world, is strongly against me ;
What have I left to cast into the opposite scale to
balance this temptation ? Alas ! I have nothing,
nothing but what is lighter than a bubble 1
must lie at the mercy of Honour, or some such cap-
ricious principle — Strait security for two of the most
valuable blessings ! — my property and myself.
" As, therefore, we can have no dependence upon
morality v/ithout religion ; — so, on the other hand,
there is nothing better to be expected from religion
without morality ; nevertheless, 'tis no prodigy to see a
man whose real moral character stands very low, who
yet entertains the highest notion of himself in the light
of a religious man.
" He shall not only be covetous, revengeful, implac-
able,— but even wanting in points of common honesty ;
yet inasmuch as he talks aloud against the infidelity of
the age, is zealous for some points of religion,
goes twice a day to church, — attends the sacraments, —
OF TRISTRAM SHANDY. 1 39
and amuses himself with a few instrumental parts of
religion, — shall cheat his conscience into a judgment,
that, for this, he is a religious man, and has discharged
truly his duty to God : And you will find that such a
man, through force of this delusion, generally looks
down with spiritual pride upon every other man who
has less affectation of piety, — though, perhaps, ten
times more real honesty than himself.
*' This likeiuise is a sore evil under the sun ; and I
believe, there is no one mistaken principle, which, for
its time, has wrought more serious mischiefs.
For a general proof of this, — examine the history of
the Romish church ; " — [Well, what can you make
of that ? cried Dr Slop^ — " see what scenes of cruelty,
murder, rapine, bloodshed," [They may thank
their own obstinacy, cried Dr Slop.'} "have all
been sanctified by a religion not strictly governed by
morality.
"In how many kingdoms of the world" — [Here
Trim kept waving his right hand from the sermon to the
extent of his arm, returning it backwards and forwards
to the conclusion of the paragraph.]
" In how many kingdoms of the world has the
crusading sword of this misguided saint-errant, spared
neither age nor merit, or sex, or condition ? — and, as
he fought under the banners of a religion which set him
loose from justice and humanity, he shewed none ;
mercilessly trampled upon both, — heard neither the
cries of the unfortunate, nor pitied their distresses."
[I have been in many a battle, an' please your
Honour, quoth Trim, sighing, but never in so melan-
choly a one as this, — I would not have drawn a tricker
in it against these poor souls, to have been made
a general officer. ^^Vhy ? what do you understand
of the affair ? said Dr Slop, looking towards Trim,
with something more of contempt than the Corporal's
I40 THE LIFE AND OPINIONS
honest heart deserved. What do you know, friend,
about this battle you talk of ? — I know, replied Trim,
that I never refused quarter in my life to any man who
cried out for it ; but to a woman or a child, con-
tinued Trim, before I would level my musket at them,
I would lose my life a thousand times. Here's a
crown for thee, Triin, to drink with Ohad'iah to-night,
quoth my uncle Toby, and I'll give Ohad'iah another
too. — God bless your Honour, replied Trim, 1 had
rather these poor women and children had it. Thou
art an honest fellow, quoth my uncle Tohy. My
father nodded his head, as much as to say, — and so he
is.
But prithee. Trim, said my father, make an end, —
for I see thou hast but a leaf or two left.
Corporal Trim read on.]]
"If the testimony of past centuries in this matter is
not sufficient, — consider at this instant, how the votaries
of that religion are every day thinking to do service
and honour to God, by actions which are a dishonour
and scandal to themselves.
" To be convinced of this, go with me for a moment
into the prisons of the Inquisition." — [God help my
poor brother Tom.~\ — "Behold Religion, with Mercy ^nd
Justice chained down under her feet, there sitting
ghastly upon a black tribunal, propped up with racks
and instruments of torment. Hark! — hark! what a
piteous groan ! " — [Here Trim's face turned as pale as
ashes.]] " See the melancholy wretch who uttered
it" — [Here the tears began to trickle down.]]
** just brought forth to undergo the anguish of a mock
trial, and endure the utmost pains that a studied system
of cruelty has been able to invent." — [D — n them all,
quoth Trim, his colour returning into his face as red as
blood.]] — " Behold this helpless victim delivered up to
his tormentors, — his body so wasted with sorrow and
OF TRISTRAM SHANDY. I4I
confinement." [Oh ! 'tis my brother, cried poor
Trim in a most passionate exclamation, dropping the
sermon upon the ground, and clapping his hands together
— I fear 'tis poor Tom. My father's and my uncle
Toby s heart yearned with sympathy for the poor
fellow's distress ; even Slop himself acknowledged pity
for him. Why, Tr'im^ said my father, this is not
a history, 'tis a sermon thou art reading ; prithee
begin the sentence again.]] " Behold this helpless
victim delivered up to his tormentors, — his body so
wasted with sorrow and confinement, you will see
every nerve and muscle as it suffers.
" Observe the last movement of that horrid engine ! "
— [I would rather face a cannon, quoth Trim, stamp-
ing. J — " See what convulsions it has thrown him into !
Consider the nature of the posture in which he
now lies stretched, — what exquisite tortures he endures
by it! " — [I hope 'tis not in Portugal.'} — "'Tis all
nature can bear ! Good God ! see how it keeps his
weary soul hanging upon his trembling lips ! " [I
would not read another line of it, quoth Trim, for all
this luorld ; — I fear, an' please your Honours, all this
is in Portugal, where my poor brother Tom is. I tell
thee. Trim, again, quoth my father, 'tis not an histori-
cal account, — 'tis a description. — 'Tis only a descrip-
tion, honest man, quoth Slop, there's not a word of truth
in it. That's another story, replied my father. —
However, 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 Honour will allow me ; — tho' 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
142 THE LIFE AND OPINIONS
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 7>/m, 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
prepared for him." [Then, thank God, he is
dead, quoth Trim, — he is out of his pain, — and they
have done their worst at him. — O Sirs! — Hold your
peace, Trhn, said my father, going on with the sermon,
lest Trim should incense Dr Slop, — we shall never
have done at this rate.]
" The surest way to try the merit of any disputed
notion is, to trace down the consequences such a
notion has produced, and compare them with the spirit
of Christianity ; 'tis the short and decisive rule
which our Saviour hath left us, for these and such like
cases, and it is worth a thousand arguments By
their fruits ye shall hnoiv them.
" I will add no farther to the length of this sermon,
than 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 neighbours, and where they separate,
depend upon it, 'tis for no other cause but quietness'
sake.
** Secondly, When a man, thus represented, tells you
in any particular instance, That such a thing goes
against his conscience, always believe he means
exactly the same thing, as when he tells you such a
-^^XviK^/f.
^Jgf2
Corporal Trim.
OF TRISTRAM SHANDY. 1 43
thing goes against his stomach ; — a present want of
appetite being generally the true cause of both.
" In a word, — trust that man in nothing, who has
not a Conscience in every thing.
" And, in your own case, remember this plain dis-
tinction, a mistake in which has ruined thousands, —
that youi' conscience is not a law: — No, God and
reason made the law, and have placed conscience
within you to determine ; not, like 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 new 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, answered
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
the clergy of our church, continued my father, address-
ing 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 enflame 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 rriy
uncle, that this should be lost. I like the sermon
well, replied my father, 'tis dramatick, — and there
144 THE LIFE AND OPINIONS
is something in that way of 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 as his
assent, simply, could have pleased him. But in this,
added Dr Slop, a little piqued, — our sermons have
greatly the advantage, that we never introduce any
character into them below a patriarch or a patriarch's
wife, or a martyr or a saint. — There are some very
bad characters in this, however, said my father, and
I do not think the sermon a jot the worse for 'em.
But pray, quoth my uncle Toby, — who's can this be ?
— How could it get into my Stevinus P A man must
be as great a conjurer as Stevlnus, said my father, to
resolve the second question : — The first, I think, is
not so difficult ; — for unless my judgment greatly de-
ceives me, 1 know the author, for 'tis wrote,
certainly, by the parson of the parish.
The similitude of the stile and manner of it, with
those my father constantly had heard preached in his
parish-church, was the ground of his conjecture, — prov-
ing it as strongly, as an argument a priori could prove
such a thing to a philosophic mind. That it was Toricli s
and no one's else : — It was proved to be so, a posteriori,
the day after, when Torick sent a servant to my uncle
Tohy* s house to enquire after it.
It seems that Torick, who was inquisitive after all
kinds of knowledge, had borrowed Stevinus of my
uncle Toby, and had carelessly popped his sermon, as
soon as he had 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.
Ill-fated sermon ! Thou wast lost, after this recovery
of thee, a second time, dropped thro' an unsuspected
OF TRISTRAM SHANDY. I45
fissure In thy master's pocket, down into a treacherous
and a tattered Hning, — trod deep into the dirt by the
left hind-foot of his Rosinante inhumanly stepping upon
thee as thou falledst ; — burled ten days in the mire,
raised up out of it by a beggar, — sold for a half-
penny to a parish-clerk, transferred to his parson,
lost for ever to "thy own, the remainder of his
days, nor restored to his restless Manes till this
very moment, that I tell the world the story.
Can the reader believe, that this sermon of TortcFs
was preached at an assize, in the cathedral of Tork,
before a thousand witnesses, ready to give oath of it,
by a certain prebendary of that church, and actually
printed by him when he had done, and within so
short a space as two years and three months after
ToricFs death ? — Tor'tck indeed, was never better served
in his life ; but it was a little hard to maltreat
him after, and plunder him after he was laid in his
grave.
However, as the gentleman who did it was in per-
fect charity with Torkk, — and, in conscious justice,
printed but a few copies to give away ; — and that I am
told he could moreover have made as good a one him-
self, had he thought fit, — I declare I would not have
published this anecdote to the world ; nor do I
publish it with an intent to hurt his character and
advancement in the church ; 1 leave that to others ;
— but I find myself impelled by two reasons, which I
cannot withstand.
The first is. That in doing justice, I may give rest
to Tor'tck' s ghost ; which — as the country-people,
and some others, believe, still walks.
The second reason is. That, by laying open this
story to the world, I gain an opportunity of informing
it, — That in case the character of parson Tor'tck, and
this sample of his sermons, is liked, there are now
1. K
146 THE LIFE AND OPINIONS
in the possession of the Shandy family, as many as will
make a handsome volume, at the world's service, •
and much good may they do it.
OBADIAH gained the two crowns without dis-
pute ; for he came in jingling, with all the
instruments in the green bays bag we spoke
of, slung across his body, just as Corporal Tri7n went
out of the room.
It is now proper, I think, quoth Dr Slop^ (clearing
up his looks) as we are in a condition to be of some
service to Mrs Shandyy to send up stairs to know how
she goes on.
, I have ordered, answered my father, the old midwife
to come down to us upon the least difficulty ; — for you
must know, Dr SIop^ continued my father, with a per-
plexed kind of a smile upon his countenance, that by
express treaty, solemnly ratified between me and my
wife, you are no more than an auxiliary in this affair, — •
and not so much as that, — unless the lean old mother
of a midwife above stairs cannot do without you. —
Women have their particular fancies, and in points of this
nature, continued my father, where they bear the whole
burden, and suffer so much acute pain for the advantage
of our families, and the good of the species, — they claim
a right of deciding, en Scuveralnesj in whose hands, and
in what fashion, they choose to undergo it.
They are in the right of it, quoth my uncle
Toby. But, Sir, replied Dr Slop, not taking notice of
my uncle Tolf s opinion, but turning to my father, —
they had better govern in other points ; and a father
of a family, who wishes its perpetuity, in my opinion,
OF TRISTRAM SHANDY. I47
had better exchange this prerogative with them, and
give up some other rights in heu of it. 1 know not,
quoth my father, answering a httle too testily, to be
quite dispassionate in what he said, — I know not, quoth
he, what we have left to give up, in lieu of who shall
bring our children into the world, unless that, — of who
shall beget them. One would almost give up
any thing, repHed Dr Slop. — I beg your pardon,
answered my uncle Toby. — Sir, replied Dr Slop^ it
would astonish you to know what improvements we
have made of late years in all branches of obstetrical
knowledge, but particularly in that one single point of
the safe and expeditious extraction of the foetus^
which has received such lights, that, for my part (hold-
ing up his hands) I declare I wonder how the world
has 1 wish, quoth my uncle Tohyy you had seen
what prodigious armies we had in Flanders,
Chapter m*
1HAVE dropped the curtain over this scene for a
minute, to remind you of one thing, and
to inform you of another.
What I have to inform you, comes, I own, a little
out of its due course ; for it should have been told
a hundred and fifty pages ago, but that I foresaw then
'twould come in pat hereafter, and be of more advantage
here tlian elsewhere. — Writers had need look before
them, to keep up the spirit and connection of what
they have in hand.
When these two things are done, — the curtain shall
be drawn up again, and my uncle Tohy^ my father, and
Dr Slopj shall go on with their discourse, without any
more interruption.
148 THE LIFE AND OPINIONS
First, then, the matter which I have to remind you
of, is this ; that from the specimens of singularity
in my father's notions in the point of Christian-names,
and that other previous point thereto, — you was led, I
think, into an opinion, (and I am sure I said as much)
that my father was a gentleman altogether as odd and
whimsical in fifty other opinions. In truth, there was
not a stage in the life of man, from the very first act of
his begetting, down to the lean and slippered panta-
loon in his second childishness, but he had some favourite
notion to himself, springing out of it, as sceptical, and
as far out of the high-way of thinking, as these two
which have been explained.
— Mr Shandy, my father, Sir, would see nothing in
the light in which others placed it ; — he placed things
in his own light ; — he would weigh nothing in common
scales ; — no, he was too refined a researcher to lie open
to so gross an imposition. — To come at the exact
weight of things in the scientific steel-yard, the fulcrum,
he would say, should be almost invisible, to avoid all
friction from popular tenets ; — without this the minutise
of philosophy, which would always turn the balance,
will have no weight at all. Knowledge, like matter,
he would affirm, was divisible in injinitum ; that the
grains and scruples were as much a part of it, as the
gravitation of the whole 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 the bottom of her
well, as inevitably by a mistake in the dust of a butter-
fly's wing, as in the disk of the sun, the moon, and
all the stars of heaven put together.
He would often lament that it was for want of
considering this properly, and of applying it skilfully
to civil matters, as well as to speculative truths, that so
many things in this world were out of joint ; that
OF TRISTRAM SHANDY. 1 49
the political arch was giving way ; ^and that the
very foundations of our excellent constitution, in church
and state, were so sapped as estimators had reported.
You cry out, he would say, we are a ruined, undone
people. Why ? he would ask, making use of the
sorites or syllogism of Zeno and Chrysippus, without
knowing it belonged to them. — Why ? why are we a
ruined people ? — Because we are corrupted. — ^^Vhence
is it, dear Sir, that we are corrupted ? Because we
are needy ; our poverty, and not our wills, consent.
And wherefore, he would add, are we needy ? —
From the neglect, he would answer, of our pence and
our halfpence : — Our bank notes, Sir, our guineas, —
nay our shillings take care of themselves.
'Tis the same, he would say, throughout the whole
circle of the sciences ; — the great, the established points
of them, are not to be broke in upon. — The laws of
nature will defend themselves ; — but error (he
would add, looking earnestly at my mother) error,
Sir, creeps in thro' the minute holes and small crevices
which human nature leaves unguarded.
This turn of thinking in my father, is what I had to
remind you of : — The point you are to be informed of,
and which I have reserved for this place, is as follows.
Amongst the many and excellent reasons, with
which my father had urged my mother to accept of
Dr Slop's assistance preferably to that of the old
woman, there was one of a very singular nature ;
which, when he had done arguing the manner with her
as a Christian, and came to argue it over again with
her as a philosopher, he had put his whole strength to,
depending indeed upon it as his sheet-anchor.
It failed him ; tho' from no defect in the argument
itself ; but that, do what he could, he was not able for
his soul to make her comprehend the drift of it.
Cursed luck ! said he to himself, one afternoon, as
150 THE LIFE AND OPINIONS
he walked out of the room, after he had been stating it
for an hour and a half to her, to no manner of purpose ;
— cursed luck ! said he, biting his lip as he shut the
door, for a man to be master of one of the finest
chains of reasoning in nature, — and have a wife at the
same time with such a head-piece, that he cannot hang
up a single inference within side of it, to save his soul
from destruction.
This argument, though it was entirely lost upon my
mother, had more weight with him, than all his
other arguments joined together : — I will therefore
endeavour to do it justice, — and set it forth with all the
perspicuity I am master of.
My father set out upon the strength of these two
following axioms :
Firsts That an ounce of a man's own wit, was worth
a ton of other people's ; and.
Secondly, (Which by the bye, was the ground- work
of the first axiom, tho' it comes last) That every
man's wit must come from every man's own soul,
and no other body's.
Now, as it was plain to my father, that all souls were
by nature equal, and that the great difference be-
tween the most acute and the most obtuse understand-
ing was from no original sharpness or bluntness of
one thinking substance above or below another, but
arose merely from the lucky or unlucky organization of
the body, in that part where the soul principally took
up her residence, he had made it the subject of his
enquiry to find out the identical place.
Now, from the best accounts he had been able to get
of this matter, he was satisfied it could not be where
Des Cartes had fixed it, upon the top of the pineal
gland of the brain ; which, as he philosophized, formed
a cushion for her about the size of a marrow pea ; tho',
to speak the truth, as so many nerves did terminate all
OF TRISTRAM SHANDY. I5I
in that one place, — 'twas no bad con]ectm-e ; and
my father had certainly follen with that great philo-
sopher plumb into the centre of the mistake, had it not
been for my uncle Tohy^ who rescued him out of it, by
a story he told him of a Walloon officer at the battle of
Landen, who had one part of his brain shot away by a
musket-ball, — and another part of it taken out after by
a French surgeon ; and after all, recovered, and did his
duty very well without it.
If death, said my father, reasoning with himself, is
nothing but the separation of the soul from the body ;
and if it is true that people can walk about and do their
business without brains, — then certes the soul does not
inhabit there. Q. E. D.
As for that certain, very thin, subtle and very
fragrant juice which CogUonissimo Born, the great
Milanese physician affirms, in a letter to Barthol'ine, to
have discovered in the cellulse of the occipital parts of
the cerebellum, and which he likewise affirms to be the
principal seat of the reasonable soul, (for, you must
know, in these latter and more enhghtened ages, there
are two souls in every man living, — the one, according
to the great Methegllngius, being called the Animus, the
other, the Anima ;) — as for the opinion, I say, of Borrl,
— my father could 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 tad-
pole all day long, both summer and winter, in a puddle,
or in a liquid of any kind, how thick or thin so-
ever, 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,
152 THE LIFE AND OPINIONS
— was In, or near, the cerebellum, — or rather some-
where about the medulla oblongata, wherein it was gene-
rally agreed by Dutch anatomists, that all the minute
nerves from all the organs of the seven senses concentered,
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 took a
road of his own, setting up another 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 in the cerebellum itself;
which opinion he favoured.
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 next to this and his Christian-name, which were
the two original and most efficacious causes of all ;
that the third cause, or rather what logicians call the
Causa sine qua non, and without which all that was done
was of no manner of significance, was the preser-
vation of this delicate and fine-spun web, from the
havock 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 Lithopadus Senonesls de Partu difficili,^
* The author is here twice mistaken ; for Lithopcedus should be
wrote thus, Lithopcedii Senoiiensis Icon. The second mistake is,
OF TRISTRAM SHANDY.
153
published by Adnanus Stnehgot, 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 labour- pains, was equal, upon an average, to the
weight of 470 pounds averdupois acting perpendicularly
upon it; — it so happened, that in 49 instances out of 50,
the said head was compressed and moulded into the
shape of an oblong conical piece of dough, such as a
pastry-cook generally rolls up in order to make a pye
of. — Good God ! cried my father, what havock and
destruction must 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 ?
But how great was his apprehension, when he farther
understood, that this force acting upon the very vertex of
the head, not only injured the brain itself, or cerebrum, —
but that it necessarily squeezed and propelled the cere-
brum 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 heads are no better than a puzzled skein of silk,
all perplexity, all confusion within-side.
But when my father read on, and was let into the
secret, that when 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
that this Lithopcedus is not an author, but a drawing of a petrified
child. The account of this, published by Athosius 1580, may be
seen at the end of Cordceus's works in Spachius. Mr Tristram
Shandy has been led into this error, either from seeing Lithopce-
dus's name of late in a catalogue of learned writers in Dr ,
or by mistaking Liihopcsdus for Trinecavellius, from the too
great similitude of the names.
154 THE LIFE AND OPINIONS
towards the cerebellum, the cerebellum, on the contrary,
was propelled simply towards the cerebrum, where it
could do no manner of hurt : By heavens ! cried he,
the world is in conspiracy to drive out what little wit
God has given us, and the professors of the obstetric
art are lifted into the same conspiracy. — ^What is it to
me v/hich end of my son comes foremost into the world,
provided all goes right after, and his cerebellum escapes
uncrushed ?^^-
It is th^ 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 phaenomenon 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,
shewing a priori^ it could not be otherwise, unless
***# J 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
common-place solution of a clearer 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 ; — shewed 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
OF TRISTRAM SHANDY, T55
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 Casarian 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 were the happy conse-
quences ? Why, Sir, your jfulius Casar, who gave
the operation a name ; — and your Hermes Trismegtstus,
who was born so before ever the operation had a name ;
your Scipio Africanus ; your Manlius Torquatus ;
our Edivard l\\Q Sixth, — who, had he lived, would have
done the same honour to the hypothesis : These,
and many more who figured high in the annals of fame,
— all came side-ivay, 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 after-
noon 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 ; con-
156 THE LIFE AND OPINIONS
cerning which I have only to add, that my brother
Bobby did as great honour 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 ^rj-/ child, — coming into
the world with his head foremost, — and turning out
afterwards a lad of wonderful slow parts, 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 sister-
hood, who are not easily to be put out of their way,
and was therefore one of my father's great reasons in
favour of a man of science, whom he could better deal
with.
Of all men in the world, Dr Slop was the fittest for
my father's purpose ; for though this new-invented
forceps was the armour he had proved, and what he
maintained to be the safest instrument of deliverance,
yet, it seems, he had scattered a word or two in his book,
in favour of the very thing which ran in my father's
fancy ; tho' not with a view to the soul's good in
extracting 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, which went a
little hard against my uncle Toby. In what manner
a plain man, with nothing but common sense, could bear
up against two such allies in science, — is hard to con-
ceive.— You may conjecture upon it, if you please, •
and whilst your imagination is in motion, you may en-
courage 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
less of my nose by marriage-articles, — and shew the
OF TRISTRAM SHANDY. 15 7
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 yet unravelled, you may
endeavour to solve if you have time ; but I tell you
beforehand it will be in vain, for not the sage Alqu'ife^
the magician in Don BeVianis of Greece, nor the no less
famous Urganddy 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 ex-
planation of these matters till the next year, when
a series of things will be laid open which he little
expects.
BOOK III.
Multitudinis imperitae non formjdo judicia ; meis tamen, rogo, parcant
opusculis in quibus fuit propositi semper, a jocis ad seria, a
seriis vicissim ad jocos transire.
— Joan. Saresberiensis, Episco^tcs Lugdun.
I
CDUptet t.
WISH, Dr Slop;' quoth my uncle Tohy, (re-
peating 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*)
" / nv'ishf Dr Slop,'' quoth my uncle Toby, ^^ you
had seen nvhat prodigious armies ive 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 con-
fusion, and then to flight, he could not rally them again
for the soul of him.
In all disputes, male or female, whether for
honour, 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
the wish, is for the party wished at, instantly to get upon
his legs — and wish the nvisher 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.
* Vide page 147.
15S
LIFE AND OPINIONS OF TRISTRAM SHANDY. 159
This will be fully illustrated to the world 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 endeavours
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 per-
ceiving, 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 Toly, so took up the discourse as
follows.
w
HAT prodigious armies you had
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 coat pocket, in order to rub his head, as
he argued 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 them-
l6o THE LIFE AND OPINIONS
selves than, " Whether my father should have taken off"
his tu'ig iv'ith his right hand or luith his left/^ have
divided the greatest kingdoms, and made the crowns of
the monarchs who governed them, to totter upon their
heads. But need I tell you, Sir, that the circum-
stances with which 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 not indifferent, just as the case
happens ?
As my father's India handkerchief was in 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 head, 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 with-
out 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 nonsen-
sical angle or other at his elbow- joint, or arm- pit) — his
whole attitude had been easy — natural — unforced :
Reynolds himself, as great and gracefully as he paints,
might have painted him as he sat.
Now as my father managed this matter, — con-
sider 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 siirt.'^ — I need
OF TRISTRAM SHANDY. l6l
say no more — the father of mischief, had he been
hammering at it a month, could not have contrived a
worse fashion for one in my father's situation.
Cj^apter iiu
IT 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
coat pocket. In the year one thousand seven hundred
and eighteen, when this happened, it was extremely
difficult ; so that when my uncle ToI?y 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 Si Nicolas j the idea 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 received 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 Tol^y dismounted immediately.
1 did not apprehend your uncle To!>y was o'
horseback.
1 62 THE LIFE AND OPINIONS
A MAN'S body and his mind, with the utmost
reverence to both I speak it, are exactly Hke a
jerkin, and a jerkin's lining ; — rumple the one,
— ^you rumple the other. There is one certain excep-
tion 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.
ZcnOf Cleanthes, Diogenes Balylonius^ Dlonyslus,
Heracleotes, Antipatery Panat'ius^ and Posidonius amongst
the Greeks ; Cato and Varro and Seneca amongst
the Romans ; Pantcenus and Clemens Alexandrinus
and Montaigne amongst the Christians ; and a score and
a half of good, honest, unthinking Shandean people as
ever lived, whose names I can't recollect, — all pre-
tended 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 played the
very devil with them, 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 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 gummi-
ness in my lining, — by heaven ! it had all of it long ago
been frayed and fretted to a thread.
OF TRISTRAM SHANDY. 1 63
■You Messrs the Monthly reviewers
how could you cut and slash my jerkin as you did ?
^how did you know but you would cut my Hning
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 exas-
perated, if I pass it by again with good temper, — being
determined as long as I live or write (which in my case
means the same thing) never to give the honest gentle-
man a worse word or a worse wish than my uncle Tohy
gave the fly which buzz'd about his nose all dinner-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."
A NY man. Madam, reasoning upwards, and observ-
£^^ ing the prodigious suffusion 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 colour : — any man.
Madam, but my uncle Tohy^ 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
lover of such kind of concord as arises from two such
164 THE LIFE AND OPINIONS
instruments being put in exact tune, — he would instantly
have skrew'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 hurly burly whatever to do with harmony ?
Any man, I say. Madam, but my uncle Tohy^ the
benignity of whose heart interpreted 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 Tohy blamed nothing but the
taylor 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 inexpres-
sible good-will my father, at length, went on as
follows.
w
copter bi.
HAT prodigious armies you had in Flanders / "
Brother Tohy, quoth my father, I
do believe thee to be as honest a man, and
with as good and as upright a heart as ever God created ;
— nor is it thy fault, if all the children which have been,
may, can, shall, will, or ought to be begotten, come
with their heads foremost into the world : but
believe me, dear Tohy^ the accidents which unavoidably
way-lay 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
OF TRISTRAM SHANDY. 1 65
dangers, quoth my uncle Toby, laying his hand upon my
father's knee, and looking up seriously in his face for
an answer, are these dangers greater now o' days,
brother, than in times past ? Brother Toby, answered
my father, if a child was but fairly begot, and born
alive, and healthy, and the mother did well after it,
— our forefathers never looked farther. ^-ly uncle
Toby instantly withdrew his hand from off 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 orbicular muscles around his lips to do
their duty — he whistled Llllabulkro,
€/()apter )!\i%
WHILST my uncle Toby was whistling LlUa-
bullero to my father, — Dr Slop was stamp-
ing, and cursing and damning at Obad'iah 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 bays bag
with her master's instruments in it, to Obad'iah, 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, unguarded
the mouth of the bag, lest any thing should bolt out in
galloping back, at the speed Obad'iah threatened, they
consulted to take it off again : and in the great care and
1 66 THE LIFE AND OPINIONS
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
Ohadiah, to make all safe, had twitched and drawn
together with all the strength of his body.
This answered all that Ohadiah and the maid in-
tended ; 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 Oladiah could not make a trot of it,
but with such a terrible jingle, what with the tire tete,
forceps, and squirt, as would have been enough, had Hymen
been taking a jaunt that way, to have frightened him
out of the country ; but when Ohadiah accelerated his
motion, and from a plain trot assayed to prick his coach-
horse into a full gallop by Heaven ! Sir, the jingle
was incredible.
As Ohadiah had a wife and three children 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 oft-
times done with the greatest patriots. " The poor
fellow. Sir, ivas not ahle.to hear himself ivhistle.^^
CDHpter btii.
AS Ohadiah 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.
OF TRISTRAM SHANDY. 1 67
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 1 scorn to enter into it.
As Obad'tah^s was a mix'd case mark, Sirs,
I say, a mixed case ; for it was obstetrical, scr'ip-
tical, squirtical, papistical and as far as the coach-
horse was concerned in it, caballistical and
only partly musical ; — Olad'iah made no scruple of
availing himself of the first expedient which offered ;
so taking hold of the bag and instruments, and griping
them hard together with one hand, and with the finger
and thumb of the other putting the end of the hat-band
betwixt 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 round-abouts and
intricate cross turns, with a hard knot at every inter-
section 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 one of her nimble moods, and in
humour 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 knov/n likewise the great speed the
Goddess can make when she thinks proper, who
would have had the least doubt remaining in his mind
— which of the two would have carried off the prize.
My mother, Madam, had been delivered sooner than
the green bag infallibly at least by twenty knots.
Sport of small accidents, Tristram Shandy I that
thou art, and ever will be ! had that trial been for
thee, and it was fifty to one but it had, thy affairs
had not been so depress' d — (at least by the depression
of thy nose) as they have been; nor had the fortunes
1 68 THE LIFE AND OPINIONS
of thy house and the occasions of making them, which
have so often presented themselves in the course of thy
life, to thee, been so often, so vexatiously, so tamely,
so irrecoverably abandoned — as thou hast been forced
to leave them ; but 'tis over, all but the ac-
count of 'em, which cannot be given to the curious till
I am got out into the world.
CHpter ix*
GREAT wits jump : for the moment Dr Slop cast
his eyes upon his bag (which he had not done
till the dispute with my uncle Tol^y about mid-
wifery put him in mind of it) — the very same thought
occurred. — 'Tis God's mercy, quoth he (to himself)
that Mrs Shandy has had so bad a time of it, else
she might have been brought to bed seven times told,
before one half of these knots could have got untied.
But here you must distinguish — the thought floated
only in Dr Slop's mind, without sail or ballast to it,
as a simple proposition ; millions of which, as your
worship knows, are every day swimming quietly in
the middle of the thin juice of a man's understanding,
without being carried backwards or forwards, till some
little gusts of passion or interest drive them to one
side.
A sudden trampling in the room above, near my
mother's bed, did the proposition the very service I
am speaking of. By all that's unfortunate, quoth Dr
Slopj unless I make haste, the thing will actually befall
me as it is.
OF TRISTRAM SHANDY. 1 69
Chapter jc.
IN the case of knots, — by which, in the first place,
I would not be understood to mean slip-knots —
because in the course of my life and opinions — my
opinions concerning them will come in more properly
when I mention the catastrophe of my great uncle Mr
Hammond Shandy, — a little man, — but of high fancy : — ■
he rushed into the duke of MonmoutU s affair : nor,
secondly, in this place, do I mean that particular species
of knots called bow-knots ; — there is so little address,
or skill, or patience required in the unloosing them, that
they are below my giving any opinion at all about them.
— But by the knots I am speaking of, may it please your
reverences to believe, that I mean good, honest, devilish
tight, hard knots, made bonajide, as Olad'iah made his ;
in which there is no quibbling provision made by
the dupHcation and return of the two ends of the strings
thro' the annulus or noose made by the second implication
of them — to get them slipp'd and undone by. 1 hope
you apprehend me.
In the case of these knots then, and of the several
obstructions, which, may it please your reverences, such
knots cast in our way in getting through life every
hasty man can whip out his penknife and cut through
them. 'Tis wrong. Believe me. Sirs, the most
virtuous way, and which both reason and conscience
dictate is to take our teeth or our fingers to them.
Dr Slop had lost his teeth — his favourite instmment,
by extracting in a wrong direction, or by some mis-
appHcation of it, unfortunately slipping, he had formerly,
in a hard labour, knock'd out three of the best of them
with the handle of it : he tried his fingers — alas ;
the nails of his fingers and thumbs were cut close.
The duce take it ! I can make nothinfj of it either
lyo THE LIFE AND OPINIONS
way, cried Dr Slop. The trampling over head near
my mother's bed-side increased. — Pox take the fellow !
I shall never get the knots untied as long as I live.
My mother gave a groan. Lend me your penknife
1 must e'en cut the knots at last pugh !
psha ! — Lord ! I have cut my thumb quite across to the
very bone curse the fellow — -if there was not another
man-midwife within fifty miles 1 am undone for this
bout — I wish the scoundrel hang'd — I wish he was shot
1 wish all the devils in hell had him for a block-
head 1
My father had a great respect for Obad'iah, and could
not bear to hear him disposed of in such a manner —
he had moreover some little respect for himself — and
could as ill bear with the indignity offered to himself
in it.
Had Dr Slop cut any part about him, but his thumb
my father had pass'd it by — his prudence had
triumphed : as it was, he was determined to have his
revenge.
Small curses, Dr Slop, upon great occasions, quoth
my father (condoling with him first upon the accident)
are but so much waste of our strength and soul's health
to no manner of purpose. — I own it, replied Dr Slop. —
They are like sparrow-shot, quoth my uncle Toby (sus-
pending his whistling) fired against a bastion. They
serve, continued my father, to stir the humours but
carry off none of their acrimony : — for my own part,
I seldom swear or curse at all — I hold it bad but
if I fall into it by surprize, I generally retain so much
presence of mind (right, quoth my uncle Toby) as to
make it answer my purpose that is, I swear on till
I find myself easy. A wise and a just man however
would always endeavour to proportion the vent given
to these humours, not only to the degree of them stir-
ring within himself — but to the size and ill intent of the
OF TRISTRAM SHANDY. 17I
offence upon which they are to fall. — *' Injuries come only
from the hearty* — quoth my uncle Toby. For this
reason, continued my father, with the most Cervantlck
gravity, I have the greatest veneration in the world for
that gentleman, who, in distrust of his own discretion in
this point, sat down and composed (that is at his leisure)
fit forms of swearing suitable to all cases, from the lowest
to the highest provocation which could possibly happen
to him — — which forms being well considered by him,
and such moreover as he could stand to, he kept them
ever by him on the chimney-piece, within his reach,
ready for use. — I never apprehended, replied Dr Slop,
that such a thing was ever thought of much less
executed. I beg your pardon, answered my father ;
I was reading, though not using, one of them to my
brother Toby this morning, whilst he pour'd out the tea —
'tis here upon the shelf over my head ; — but if I re-
member right, 'tis too violent for a cut of the thumb. —
Not at all, quoth Dr Slop — the devil take the fellow.
Then, answered my father, 'Tis much at your
service, Dr Slop — on condition you will read it aloud ;
so rising up and reaching down a form of excom-
munication of the church of Rome, a copy of which,
my father (who was curious in his collections) had pro-
cured out of the leger-book of the church of Rochester,
writ by Ernulphus the bishop with a most affected
seriousness of look and voice, which might have cajoled
Ernulphus himself — he put it into Dr Slop's hands.
Dr Slop wrapt his thumb up in the corner of his
handkerchief, and with a wry face, though without
any suspicion, read aloud, as follows my uncle
Toby whistling Lillabullero as loud as he could all the
time.
172 THE LIFE AND OPINIONS
Textus de Ecclesia RofFensi, per Ernulfum Episcopum.
Cap* vu
EXCOMMUNICATIO.
EX auctoritate Dei omnlpotentis, Patris, et Filij, et
SpiritLis Sancti, et sanctorum canonum, sanctaeque
et intemeratae Virginis Dei genetricis Marias, —
Atque omnium coelestium virtutum, angel-
orum, archangelorum, thronorum, dominationum, potes-
tatuum, chembin ac seraphin, & sanctorum patriarchum,
prophetarum, & omnium apostolorum & evangelistarum,
& sanctorum innocentum, qui in conspectu Agni soli
digni inventi sunt canticum cantare novum, et sanctorum
martyrum et sanctorum confessorum, et sanctarum virgi-
As the 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 of which Mr Shandy returns
thanks to the chapter clerk of the dean and chapter of
Rochester.
OF TRISTRAM SHANDY. 173
€|^aptcr xu
" T) Y the authority of God Almighty, the Father,
Jl) Son, and Holy Ghost, and of the holy
canons, and of the undefiled Virgin Mary,
mother and patroness of our Saviour." I think there
is no necessity, quoth Dr S/op, dropping the paper
down to his knee, and addressing himself to my father
as you have read it over. Sir, so lately, to read
it aloud and as Captain Shandy seems to have no
great inclination to hear it 1 may as well read
it to myself. That's contrary to treaty, replied my
father : besides, there is something so whim-
sical, 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 Tol?y
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 suifer 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 whistling Lillabul/ero, 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 patroness of our Saviour, and of
all the celestial virtues, angels, archangels, thrones,
dominions, powers, cherubins and seraphins, and of all
the holy patriarchs, prophets, and of all the apostles
and evangelists, 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 con-
fessors, and of the holy virgins, and of all the saints,
174 THE LIFE AND OriNIONS
num, atque omnium simul sanctorum et electorum Dei,
vel OS s
Excommunicamus, et anathematizamus hunc furem,
vel OS s
vel hunc malefactorem, N. N. et a liminibus sanctae
Dei ecclesiae sequestramus, et aeternis suppliciis excruci-
vel i n
andus, mancipetur, cum Dathan et Abiram, et cum his
qui dixerunt Domino Deo, Recede a nobis, scientiam
viarum tuarum nolumus : et sicut aqua ignis extinguitur,
vel eorum
sic extinguatur lucerna ejus in secula seculorum nisi
n n
resipuerit, et ad satisfactionem venerit. Amen.
OS
Maledicat ilium Deus Pater qui hominem creavit.
OS
Maledicat ilium Dei Filius qui pro homine passus est.
OS
Maledicat ilium Spiritus Sanctus qui in baptismo ef-
os
fusus est. Maledicat ilium sancta crux, quam Christus
pro nostra salute hostem triumphans ascendit.
OS
Maledicat ilium sancta Dei genetrix et perpetua
OS
Virgo Maria. Maledicat ilium sanctus Michael, anim-
os
arum susceptor sacrarum. Maledicant ilium omnes
angeli et archangeli, principatus et potestates, omnisque
militia ccelestis.
OS
Maledicat ilium patriarcharum et prophetarum lauda-
os
bills numerus. Maledicat ilium sanctus Johannes Prae-
cusor et Baptista Christi, et sanctus Petrus, et sanctus
OF TRISTRAM SHANDY. 1 75
together 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
Almighty we sequester him, that he may be tormented,
disposed, and delivered over with Dathan and Ahiraniy
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 hght of him be put
out for evermore, unless it shall repent him" [Oha'
d'lah, of the knots which he has tied) "and make
satisfaction" (for them) '* Amen."
" May the Father who created man, curse him.
May the Son who suffered for us, curse him. May
the Holy Ghost, who was given to us in baptism, curse
him i^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
archangels, 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 St John, the Prgecursor, and St John tTie
Baptist, and St Peter and St Paul, and St Andrew,
and all other Christ's apostles, together curse him.
176 THE LIFE AND OPINIONS
Paulus, atque sanctus Andreas, omnesque Christi apos-
toli, simul et casteri discipuli, quatuor quoque evangelistos,
qui sua prasdicatione mundum universum converterunt.
OS
Maledicat ilium cuneus martyrum et confessorum miri-
ficus, qui Deo bonis operibus placitus inventus est.
OS
Maledicant ilium sacrarum virginum chori, quae mundi
vana causa honoris Christi respuenda contempserunt.
OS
Maledicant ilium omnes sancti qui ab initio mundi usque
in finem seculi Deo dilecti inveniuntur.
OS
Maledicant ilium cceli et terra, et omnia sancta
in eis manentia.
in n
Maledictus sit ubicunque fuerit, sive in domo, sive in
agro, sive in via, sive in semita, sive in silva, sive in
aqua, sive in ecclesia.
i n
Maledictus sit vivendo, moriendo,
manducando, bibendo, esuriendo, sitiendo, jejunando,
dormitando, dormiendo, vigilando, ambulando, stando,
sedendo, jacendo, operando, quiescendo, mingendo,
cacando, flebotomando.
i n
Maledictus sit in totis viribus corporis,
i n
Maledictus sit intus et exterius..
in in
Maledictus sit in capillis ; maledictus sit in cerebro.
i n
Maledictus sit in vertice, in temporibus, in fronte, in
OF TRISTRAM SHANDY. 1 77
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 pleas-
ing to God Almighty, curse him" [Ohadlah).
" May the holy choir of the holy virgins, who for
the honour of Christ have despised the things of the
world, damn him May all the saints, who from the
beginning of 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 SIop^ 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 being thirsty, in fasting, in sleeping, in slum-
bering, 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 outwardly !
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
I. M
178 THE LIFE AND OPINIONS
auriculis, in superciliis, in oculis, in genis, in maxillis,
in naribus, in dentibus, mordacibus, sive molaribus, in
labiis, in guttere, in humeris, in harnis, in brachiis,
in manubus, in digitis, in pectore, in corde, et in omnibus
interioribus stomacho tenus, in renibus, in inguinibus,
in femore, in genitalibus, in coxis, in genubus, in cru-
ribus, in pedibus, et in inguibus.
Maledictus sit in totis compagibus membrorum, a
vertice capitis, usque ad plantam pedis — non sit in eo
sanitas.
Maledicat ilium Christus Filius Dei vivi toto suas
majestatis imperio.
OF TRISTRAM SHANDY. 1 79
forehead, In his ears, in his eye-brows, 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 joints 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 —
w — w something betwixt the interjectional
whistle of Hay-day ! 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 k — to say
nothing of the beards of town-gods and country- gods,
or of the celestial goddesses your wives, or of the
infernal goddesses your whores and concubines (that
is in case they wore them) all which beards, as
Varro tells me, upon his word and honour, when
mustered up together, made no less than thirty thousand
effective beards upon the Pagan establishment ;
every beard of which claimed the rights and privileges
of being stroken and sworn by — by all these beards
together then 1 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 Harriet offered
l8o THE LIFE AND OPINIONS
et insurgat adversus ilium coelum cum omnibus
virtutibus quae in eo moventur ad damnandum eum, nisi
penituerit et ad satisfactionem venerit. Amen. Fiat,
fiat. Amen.
OF TRISTRAM SHANDY. l8l
his to have stood by, and heard my uncle Tohy s
accompanyment.
"curse him ! " continued Dr Slop, — "and may
heaven, with all the powers which move therein, rise
up against him, curse and damn him" [Ohadiah^
" unless he repent and make satisfaction ! Amen. So
be it, — so be it. Amen."
I declare, quoth my uncle Toly, my heart would not
let me curse the devil himself with so much bitterness.
— He 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 Tohy.
Dr Slop drew up his mouth, and was just beginning
to return my uncle Tohy the compliment of his Whu —
u — u^-or inter jectional whistle when the door
hastily opening in the next chapter but one put an
end to the affair.
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 hefetish^ 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 far as from the coast of Guiney ; — their
heads, Sir, are stuck so full of rules and compasses,
/W4- r>--v
1 82 THE LIFE AND OPINIONS
and have that eternal propensity to apply them upon all
occasions, that a work of genius had better go to the
devil at once, than stand to be prick'd and tortured to
death by 'em.
— ^And how did Garrlck speak the soliloquy last
night ? — Oh, against all rule, my lord, — most un-
grammatically ! betwixt the substantive and the adjec-
tive, 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 sus-
pended likewise ? Did no expression of attitude or
countenance fill up the chasm ? Was the eye silent ?
Did you narrowly look ? 1 look'd only at the stop-
watch, my lord. — Excellent observer !
And what of this new book the whole world 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
critick !
And for the epick 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. — Admirable connoisseur !
And did you step in, to take 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 colouring of Titian — the expression of
Rubens — the grace of Raphael — the purity of Domi-
OF TRISTRAM SHANDY. I S3
nlchino — the correg'iescity of Corregio — the learning of
Poussin — the airs of Gutdo — the taste of the Carrachis
— or the grand contour of Angela. — Grant me patience,
just Heaven! — Of all the cants which are canted in
this canting world — though the cant of hypocrites
may be the worst 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 humour — give
me — I ask no more, but one stroke of native humour,
with a single spark of thy own fire along with it
and send Mercury, with the rules and compasses, if he
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 PauFs
thumb God's Jlesh and God's Jish, which were oaths
monarchical, and, considering who made them, not
much amiss ; and as kings' oaths, 'tis not much matter
whether they were fish or flesh ; — else I say, there is
not an oath, or at least a curse amongst them, which
has not been copied over and over again out of Ernul-
phus 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 Ernul-
phus'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 excel-
1S4 THE LIFE AND OPINIONS
lencies of a swearer had such a thorough know-
ledge 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 Angela^ a want of grace
but then there is such a greatness oi gusto I
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 siuearing
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 Justinian, in the decline of the empire, had
ordered his chancellor Tribonian to collect the Roman
or civil laws all 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 oft-times affirm,
there was not an oath, from the great and tremendous
oath of WilUain the Conqueror {^By the splendour of
God') down to the lowest oath of a scavenger (Damn
your eyes) which was not to be found in Ernulphus. —
In short, he would 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 I any objection to it,
but that it overturns my own.
B
OF TRISTRAM SHANDY. 1 85
LESS my soul ! — my poor mistress is ready
to faint and her pains are gone — and
the drops are done — and the bottle of julap
is broke and the nurse has cut her arm — (and I,
my thumb, cried Dr S/op,) 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 3^our hat. — I'll look at it, quoth
Dr S/op. — 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 Slopes
head — He had not digested it. — No, repHed 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 Tohf s hobby-
horsical reflection ; though full 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 all 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 with-
out it, the cut upon my thumb might have been felt by
the Shandy family, as long as the Shandy family had' a
lS6 THE LIFE AND OPINIONS
LET us go back to the ****** in the last
chapter.
It is a singular stroke of eloquence (at least
it was so, when eloquence flourished at Athens and
Rome^ and would be so now, did orators wear mantles)
not to mention the name of a thing, when you had the
thing about you in petto, ready to produce, pop, in the
place you want it. A scar, an axe, 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. — Tho'
if it was too young, and the oration as long as Tullys
second Philippich — 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 politicks 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, super-
fine, marketable cloth in them — with large flowing folds
and doubles, and in a great style of design. — All which
plainly shews, 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
OF TRISTRAM SPIANDY. 1 87
nothing else in the world, but short coats, and the dis-
use of trunk-hose. We can conceal nothing under
ours, Madam, worth shewing.
DR Slop was within an ace of being an exception to
all this argumentation : for happening to have
his green bays bag upon his knees, when he
began to parody my uncle Toby — 'twas as good as the
best mantle in the world to him : for which purpose,
when he foresaw the sentence would end in his new-
invented forceps, he thrust his hand into the bag in
order to have them ready to clap in, when your reve-
rences took so much notice of the ***, which had he
managed my uncle Toby had certainly been over-
thrown : the sentence and 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 squiri 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
nv'ith a squirt ? "
THE LIFE AND OPINIONS
C|)apter j:bu
— T TPON my honour, Sir, you have tore every bit
[^ of skin quite off the back of both my hands
with your forceps, cried my uncle Toby — 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 Toiy. 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 aukward — 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 Slop. — 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. 1 rather wish you would begin that
way, quoth my father.
Pray do, added my uncle Toby,
OF TRISTRAM SHANDY. 1S9
Chapter j:)iiu
A^"^ V^^y* goo^ woman, after all, will you
J'\ take upon you to say, it may not be the
child's hip, as well as the child's head ?
'Tis most certainly the head, replied the mid-
wife. Because, continued Dr SIoj> (turning to my
father) as positive as these old ladies generally are — 'tis
a point very difficult to know — and yet of the greatest
consequence to be known ; because. Sir, if the hip
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 To5y.
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 the reader should un-
derstand this 'tis enough Dr Slop understood it;
so taking the green bays bag in his hand, with
the help of Obad'iah^s pumps, he tripp'd pretty nimbly,
for a man of his size, across the room to the door
and from the door was shewn the way, by the
good old midwife, to my mother's apartments.
190 THE LIFE AND OPINIONS
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 pantoufles 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, "/><? kneiv not hotu it
happen dj^^ — yet he knew very well how it happen'd ;
and at the instant he spoke it, was pre- determined
in his mind to give my uncle Toby a clear account
of the matter by a metaphysical dissertation upon the
subject of duration and its simple modes y in order to shew
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
OF TRISTRAM SHANDY. I9I
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 Tohy s the least injury
at all ; my father knew it — and was no less surprized
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 Tohy.
Gracious heaven ! cried my father, looking upwards,
and clasping his two hands together there is a
worth in thy honest ignorance, brother Tohy 'twere
almost a pity to exchange it for a knowledge. — But
I'll tell thee.
To understand what time is aright, without which
we never can comprehend injinity, insomuch as one is a
portion of the other we ought seriously to sit down
and consider what idea it is we have of duration^ so as
to give a satisfactory account how we came by it.
What is that to any body ? quoth my uncle Tohy.
* For if you iv'iU turn your eyes inwards upon your mind,
continued my father, and ohserve attentt'vely , you luill
perceive, hrother, that 'whilst you and I are talking to^
gether, and thinking, and smoaking our pipes, or ivhilst <ive
receive successively ideas in our minds, lue knoiv that lue
* Vide Locke.
192 THE LIFE AND OPINIONS
do exists and so lue estimate the existence, or the continua-
tion of the existence of ourselves, or any thing else, com-
mensurate to the succession of any ideas in our minds, the
duration of ourselves, or any such other thing co- existing
nvith our thinking and so according to that precon-
ceived 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 suc-
cession 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 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 lanthorn turned round by the
heat of a candle. — I declare, quoth my uncle Toby,
mine are more like a smoak-jack. Then, brother
Toby, I have nothing more to say to you upon that
subject, said my father.
"I \ THAT a conjuncture was here lost!
y y My father in one of his best explanatory
moods — in eager pursuit of a meta-
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
OF TRISTRAM SHANDY. 1 93
in the world; — his head like a smoak-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 Luc'ian
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 Tobys discourse upon
TIME and ETERNITY was a discourse devoutly to be
wished for ! and the petulancy of my father's humour,
in putting a stop to it as he did, was a robbery of the
Ontologlc Treasury of such a jewel, as no coalition of
great occasions and great men are ever likely to restore
to it again.
THO' my father persisted in not going on with the
discourse — yet he could not get my uncle Tobfs
smoak-jack out of his head — piqued as he
was at first with it ; — there was something in the com-
parison at the bottom, which hit his fancy ; for which
purpose, resting his elbow upon the table, and re-
clining 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 wore out with 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
smoak-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 smoak-jack had not made
a dozen revolutions, before he fell asleep also.
Peace be with them both ! Dr Slop is engaged
194 THE LIFE AND OPINIONS
with the midwife and my mother above stairs.
Trim is busy in turning an old pair of jack-boots into a
couple of mortars, to be employed in the siege of Messina
next summer — and is this instant boring the touch-holes
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,
aye, 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, Agelastes (speaking dispraisingly) sayeth. That
there may be some wit in it, for aught he knows
but no judgment at all. And Triptokmus and
Phutator'ius 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, D'ldius the great church
lawyer, In his code de fartend'i et tUustrandi 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,
OF TRISTRAM SHANDY. 1 95
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
criticks, and fellow-labourers (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
— Didius, my counsel ; Kysarciusy my friend ; — PhutU'
tortus, my guide ; Gastrlpheres, the preserver of my
life ; Somnolenttus, the balm and repose of it not
forgetting all others, as well sleeping as waking, eccle-
siastical 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 ray own too, in case the thing is not
done already for us is, that the great gifts and en-
dowments 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 spare places of our brains in
such sort, that they might continue to be injected and
tunn'd into, according to the true intent and meaning
of my wish, until every vessel of them, both great and
small, be so replenish^, saturated, and filled up there-
with, that no more, would it save a man's life, could
possibly be got either in or out.
196 THE LIFE AND OPINIONS
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 1 faint away deliciously at the thoughts
of it — 'tis more than nature can bear ! — lay hold of me
1 am giddy — I am stone blind — I'm 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 scofling and flouting, with
raillying 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
such 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 abomi-
nate each other ten times worse than so many devils or
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 fume 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 luit a.nd Judgment, which I have
so bountifully wished both for your worships and
myself — there is but a certain quatitum stored up for us
OF TRISTRAM SHANDY. I97
all, for the use and behoof of the whole race of man-
kind ; and such small modicums of 'em are only sent
forth into this wide world, circulating here and there
in one bye corner or 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 estates, and populous empires.
Indeed there is one thing to be considered, that in
Nova Zemhla, North Lapland^ and in all those cold
and dreary tracts of the globe, which lie more directly
under the arctick and antarctick 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 oi judgment
imaginable does the business — and of iv'it 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 judg-
ment about us ! For mercy's sake, let us think no
more about it, but travel on as fast as we can south-
wards into Norivay — crossing over Snvedeland, if you
please, through the small triangular province of Anger-
mania to the lake of Bothnia ; 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 Baltick, up to Petershourg, and just
stepping into Ingria ; — then stretching over directly
198 THE LIFE AND OPINIONS
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 Russian and jisiatick
Tartary.
Now throughout 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 houshold judgment, which, taking the quality
and quantity of it together, they make a very good shift
with and had they more of either the 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 humours 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 descent
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
OF TRISTRAM SHANDY. 1 99
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 wary reasoning by
analogy in that kind of argumentative process, which
Suidas calls d'lalectick induction that I draw and
set up this position as most true and veritable ;
That of these two luminaries so much of their irra-
diations 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 con-
ceal it from you. That the fervent wish in your behalf
with which I set out, was no more than the first in-
sinuating H01V 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
journies end ; some falling with their noses perpen-
dicularly into sinks others horizontally with their
tails into kennels. Here one half of a learned profes-
sion 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 —
200 THE LIFE AND OPINIONS
admirable ! — trusting to the 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 of corruption — 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 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, in-
stead of, in 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'Nohes his nose could stand in Tom
0^ Stiles his face, without a trespass, or not — rashly
determined by them in five-and- twenty minutes, which,
with the cautious pros and cons required in so intricate a
proceeding, might have taken up as many months
and if carried on upon a military plan, as your honours
know an action should be, with all the stratagems
practicable therein, such as feints, forced
marches, surprizes ambuscades mask- bat-
teries, and a thousand other strokes of generalship,
which consist in catching at all advantages on both
sides might reasonably have lasted them as many
OF TRISTRAM SHANDY. 201
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. 1 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 centrist myself
with so bad and melancholy an account — and therefore
'tis safer to di'aw 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 luit are reported to be
men of most judgment. But mark — I say, reported
to be — for it is no more, my dear Sirs, than a report,
and which, like twenty others taken up every day upon
trust, I maintain to be a vile and a malicious report
into the bargain.
This by the help of the observation already pre-
mised, and I hope already weighed 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, be-
twixt 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-mittain, a truckle for a
pully, 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
202 THE LIFE AND OPINIONS
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 gimlet-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 ivif — and there stands Judgmenff 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 its /fame — as wit and judgment are of ours —
and like them too, indubitably both made and fitted to
go together, in order, as we say in all such cases of
duplicated embellishments— 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 just as much sense and symmetry in the one as in the
other : do pray, get off your seats only to take
a view of it.-^ Now would any man who valued his
character a straw, have turned a piece of work out of
his hand in such a condition ? nay, lay your hands
upon your hearts, and answer this plain question,
Whether this one single knob, which now stands here
like a blockhead by itself, can serve any purpose upon
earth, but to put one in mind of the want of the other ?
— and let me farther ask, in case the chair was your
own, if you would not in your consciences think, rather
OF TRISTRAM SHANDY. 203
than be as it is, that it would be ten times better with-
out any knob at all ?
Now these two knobs or top ornaments of
the mind of man, which crown the whole entablature
being, as 1 said, wit and judgment, which of all
others, as I have proved it, are the most needful-
the most prized — the most calamitous to be without,
and consequently the hardest to come at — for all these
reasons put together, there is not a mortal among us,
so destitute of a love of good fame or feeding or so
ignorant of what will do him good therein — who does
not wish and stedfastly resolve in his own mind, to be,
or to be thought at least, master of the one or the
other, and indeed of both of them, if the thing seems
any way feasible, or likely to be brought to pass.
Now your graver gentry having little or no kind of
chance in aiming at the one- — unless they laid hold of
the other, pray what do you think would become
of them ? Why, Sirs, in spite of all their gravities^
they must e'en have been contented to have gone with
their insides naked this was not to be borne, but by
an effort of philosophy not to be supposed in the case
we are upon so that no one could well have been
angry with them, had they been satisfied with what
little they could have snatched up and secreted under
their cloaks and great perriwigs, had they not raised a
hue and cry at the same time against the lawful owners.
I need not tell your worships, that this was done
with so much cunning and artifice that the great
Locke, who was seldom outwitted by false sounds
^was nevertheless bubbled here. The cry, it
seems, was so deep and solemn a one, and what with
the help of great wigs, grave faces, and other imple-
ments of deceit, was rendered so general a one against
the poor ivits in this matter, that the philosopher him-
self was deceived by it — it was his glory to free the
204 THE LIFE AND OPINIONS
world from the lumber of a thousand vulgar errors ;
but this was not of the number ; so that instead of
sitting down coolly, as such a philosopher should have
done, to have examined the matter of fact before he
philosophised upon it on the contrary he took the
fact for granted, and so joined in with the cry, and
halloo'd it as boisterously as the rest.
This has been made the Magna Charta of stupidity
ever since but your reverences plainly see, it has
been obtained in such a manner, that the title to it is
not worth a groat : which by-the-bye is one of
the many and vile impositions which gravity and grave
folks have to answer for hereafter.
As for great wigs, upon which I may be thought to
have spoken my mind too freely 1 beg leave to
qualify whatever has been unguardedly said to their
dispraise or prejudice, by one general declaration
That I have no abhorrence whatever, nor do I detest
and abjure either great wigs or long beards, any farther
than when I see they are bespoke and let grow on
purpose to carry on this self-same imposture — for any
purpose peace be with them ! — ^^ mark only
1 write not for them.
EVERY day for at least ten years together did
my father resolve to have it mended — 'tis not
mended yet ; — no family but ours would have
borne with it an hour and what is most astonishing,
there was not a subject in the world upon which my
father was so eloquent, as upon that of door-hinges.
And yet at the same time, he was certainly one
of the greatest bubbles to them, I think, that history
OF TRISTRAM SHANDY. 205
can produce : his rhetorlck and conduct were at per-
petual handy-cufFs. — Never did the parlour-door open
— but his philosophy or his principles fell a victim to
it ; three drops of oil with a feather, and a smart
stroke of a hammer, had saved his honour for ever.
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 melan-
choly and uneasy under them ! — Poor unhappy creature,
that he should do so ! Are not the necessary causes
of misery in this life enow, 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 Shandy Hall the parlour
door hinge shall be mended this reign.
Chapter y^ixu
WHEN Corporal Trim had brought his two
mortars to bear, he was delighted with his
handy- work 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 parlour.
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.
206 THE LIFE AND OPINIONS
Had the parlour 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 Tohy fast asleep — the respectful-
ness 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
lordships, hotu can it be otherwise P "
Pray what's the matter ? Who is there ? cried my
father, waking, the moment the door began to creak.
1 wish the smith would give a peep at that con-
founded hinge. 'Tis nothing, an' please your honour,
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 honour, cried
Trim, they are two mortar-pieces for a siege next
summer, which I have been making out of a pair of
jack-boots, which Obadiah told me your honour had
OF TRISTRAM SHANDY. 207
left off wearing. — By Heaven ! cried my father, spring-
ing out of his chair, as he swore 1 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 Tohy^ Trim has cut off
the entail. — I have only cut off the tops, an' please
your honour, cried Trim 1 hzte perpetuities as much
as any man aUve, 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 Mar ston- 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 dissipate 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 Tohy. —
What is that — replied my father hastily — to ten pounds
for a pair of jack-boots ? — twelve guineas for jomx pon-
toons F — 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 expences than you were first aware of ;
— and take my word, dear Toby, they will in the end
quite ruin your fortune, and make a beggar of you. —
2C8 LIFE AND OPINIONS OF TRISTRAM SHANDY.
What signifies it if they 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 humour with them in an
instant.
Generous souls ! — G6d prosper you both, and your
mortar-pieces too ! quoth my father to himself.
TkU
.? ^
END OF VOL. I.
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