The life and opinions of Tristram Shandy, gentleman

_Andoüillet_’s—(so there was no sin in it)—when a person coming in, let fall a thundering bastinado upon the poor devil’s crupper, which put an end to the ceremony. _ Out upon it!_ cried I——but the interjection was equivocal——and, I think, wrong placed too—for the end of an osier which had started out from the contexture of the ass’s panier, had caught hold of my breeches pocket, as he rush’d by me, and rent it in the most disastrous direction you can imagine——so that the _Out upon it!_ in my opinion, should have come in here——but this I leave to be settled by The REVIEWERS of MY BREECHES, which I have brought over along with me for that purpose. C H A P. XIV WHEN all was set to rights, I came down stairs again into the _basse cour_ with my _valet de place_, in order to sally out towards the tomb of the two lovers, &c.—and was a second time stopp’d at the gate——not by the ass—but by the person who struck him; and who, by that time, had taken possession (as is not uncommon after a defeat) of the very spot of ground where the ass stood. It was a commissary sent to me from the post-office, with a rescript in his hand for the payment of some six livres odd sous. Upon what account? said I.——’Tis upon the part of the king, replied the commissary, heaving up both his shoulders—— ——My good friend, quoth I——as sure as I am I—and you are you—— ——And who are you? said he.—— ——Don’t puzzle me; said I. C H A P. XV ——But it is an indubitable verity, continued I, addressing myself to the commissary, changing only the form of my asseveration——that I owe the king of _France_ nothing but my good will; for he is a very honest man, and I wish him all health and pastime in the world—— _Pardonnez moi_—replied the commissary, you are indebted to him six livres four sous, for the next post from hence to St. _Fons_, in your route to _Avignon_—which being a post royal, you pay double for the horses and postillion—otherwise ’twould have amounted to no more than three livres two sous—— ——But I don’t go by land; said I. ——You may if you please; replied the commissary—— Your most obedient servant——said I, making him a low bow—— The commissary, with all the sincerity of grave good breeding—made me one, as low again.——I never was more disconcerted with a bow in my life. ——The devil take the serious character of these people! quoth I—(aside) they understand no more of Irony than this—— The comparison was standing close by with his panniers—but something seal’d up my lips—I could not pronounce the name— Sir, said I, collecting myself—it is not my intention to take post—— —But you may—said he, persisting in his first reply—you may take post if you chuse—— —And I may take salt to my pickled herring, said I, if I chuse— —But I do not chuse— —But you must pay for it, whether you do or no. Aye! for the salt; said I (I know)—— —And for the post too; added he. Defend me! cried I—— I travel by water—I am going down the _Rhône_ this very afternoon—my baggage is in the boat—and I have actually paid nine livres for my passage—— _C’est tout egal_—’tis all one; said he. _Bon Dieu!_ what, pay for the way I go! and for the way I do _not_ go! ——_C’est tout egal;_ replied the commissary—— ——The devil it is! said I—but I will go to ten thousand Bastiles first—— _O England! England!_ thou land of liberty, and climate of good sense, thou tenderest of mothers—and gentlest of nurses, cried I, kneeling upon one knee, as I was beginning my apostrophè. When the director of Madam _Le Blanc_’s conscience coming in at that instant, and seeing a person in black, with a face as pale as ashes, at his devotions—looking still paler by the contrast and distress of his drapery—ask’d, if I stood in want of the aids of the church—— I go by WATER—said I—and here’s another will be for making me pay for going by OIL. C H A P. XVI AS I perceived the commissary of the post-office would have his six livres four sous, I had nothing else for it, but to say some smart thing upon the occasion, worth the money: And so I set off thus:—— ——And pray, Mr. Commissary, by what law of courtesy is a defenceless stranger to be used just the reverse from what you use a _Frenchman_ in this matter? By no means; said he. Excuse me; said I—for you have begun, Sir, with first tearing off my breeches—and now you want my pocket—— Whereas—had you first taken my pocket, as you do with your own people—and then left me bare a—’d after—I had been a beast to have complain’d—— As it is—— ——’Tis contrary to the _law of nature._ ——’Tis contrary to _reason._ ——’Tis contrary to the GOSPEL. But not to this——said he—putting a printed paper into my hand, PAR le ROY. ———’Tis a pithy prolegomenon, quoth I—and so read on — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — ——By all which it appears, quoth I, having read it over, a little too rapidly, that if a man sets out in a post-chaise from _Paris_—he must go on travelling in one, all the days of his life—or pay for it.—Excuse me, said the commissary, the spirit of the ordinance is this—That if you set out with an intention of running post from _Paris_ to _Avignon_, &c. you shall not change that intention or mode of travelling, without first satisfying the fermiers for two posts further than the place you repent at—and ’tis founded, continued he, upon this, that the REVENUES are not to fall short through your _fickleness_—— ——O by heavens! cried I—if fickleness is taxable in _France_—we have nothing to do but to make the best peace with you we can—— AND SO THE PEACE WAS MADE; ——And if it is a bad one—as _Tristram Shandy_ laid the corner-stone of it—nobody but _Tristram Shandy_ ought to be hanged. C H A P. XVII THOUGH I was sensible I had said as many clever things to the commissary as came to six livres four sous, yet I was determined to note down the imposition amongst my remarks before I retired from the place; so putting my hand into my coat-pocket for my remarks—(which, by the bye, may be a caution to travellers to take a little more care of _their_ remarks for the future) “my remarks were _stolen_”——Never did sorry traveller make such a pother and racket about his remarks as I did about mine, upon the occasion. Heaven! earth! sea! fire! cried I, calling in every thing to my aid but what I should——My remarks are stolen!—what shall I do?——Mr. Commissary! pray did I drop any remarks, as I stood besides you?—— You dropp’d a good many very singular ones; replied he——Pugh! said I, those were but a few, not worth above six livres two sous—but these are a large parcel——He shook his head——Monsieur _Le Blanc!_ Madam _Le Blanc!_ did you see any papers of mine?—you maid of the house! run up stairs—_François!_ run up after her—— —I must have my remarks——they were the best remarks, cried I, that ever were made—the wisest—the wittiest—What shall I do?—which way shall I turn myself? _Sancho Pança_, when he lost his ass’s FURNITURE, did not exclaim more bitterly. C H A P. XVIII WHEN the first transport was over, and the registers of the brain were beginning to get a little out of the confusion into which this jumble of cross accidents had cast them—it then presently occurr’d to me, that I had left my remarks in the pocket of the chaise—and that in selling my chaise, I had sold my remarks along with it, to the chaise-vamper. I leave this void space that the reader may swear into it any oath that he is most accustomed to——For my own part, if ever I swore a _whole_ oath into a vacancy in my life, I think it was into that—— * * * * * * * * *, said I—and so my remarks through _France_, which were as full of wit, as an egg is full of meat, and as well worth four hundred guineas, as the said egg is worth a penny—have I been selling here to a chaise-vamper—for four _Louis d’Ors_—and giving him a post-chaise (by heaven) worth six into the bargain; had it been to _Dodsley_, or _Becket_, or any creditable bookseller, who was either leaving off business, and wanted a post-chaise—or who was beginning it—and wanted my remarks, and two or three guineas along with them—I could have borne it——but to a chaise-vamper!—shew me to him this moment, _François_,—said I—The valet de place put on his hat, and led the way—and I pull’d off mine, as I pass’d the commissary, and followed him. C H A P. XIX WHEN we arrived at the chaise-vamper’s house, both the house and the shop were shut up; it was the eighth of _September_, the nativity of the blessed Virgin _Mary_, mother of God— ——Tantarra - ra - tan - tivi——the whole world was gone out a May-poling—frisking here—capering there——no body cared a button for me or my remarks; so I sat me down upon a bench by the door, philosophating upon my condition: by a better fate than usually attends me, I had not waited half an hour, when the mistress came in to take the papilliotes from off her hair, before she went to the May-poles—— The _French_ women, by the bye, love May-poles, _à la folie_—that is, as much as their matins——give ’em but a May-pole, whether in _May, June, July_ or _September_—they never count the times——down it goes——’tis meat, drink, washing, and lodging to ’em——and had we but the policy, an’ please your worships (as wood is a little scarce in _France_), to send them but plenty of May-poles—— The women would set them up; and when they had done, they would dance round them (and the men for company) till they were all blind. The wife of the chaise-vamper stepp’d in, I told you, to take the papilliotes from off her hair——the toilet stands still for no man——so she jerk’d off her cap, to begin with them as she open’d the door, in doing which, one of them fell upon the ground—I instantly saw it was my own writing—— O Seigneur! cried I—you have got all my remarks upon your head, Madam!——_J’en suis bien mortifiée_, said she——’tis well, thinks I, they have stuck there—for could they have gone deeper, they would have made such confusion in a _French_ woman’s noddle—She had better have gone with it unfrizled, to the day of eternity. _Tenez_—said she—so without any idea of the nature of my suffering, she took them from her curls, and put them gravely one by one into my hat——one was twisted this way——another twisted that——ey! by my faith; and when they are published, quoth I,—— They will be worse twisted still. C H A P. XX ANS now for _Lippius_’s clock! said I, with the air of a man, who had got thro’ all his difficulties——nothing can prevent us seeing that, and the _Chinese_ history, &c. except the time, said _François_——for ’tis almost eleven—then we must speed the faster, said I, striding it away to the cathedral. I cannot say, in my heart, that it gave me any concern in being told by one of the minor canons, as I was entering the west door,—That _Lippius_’s great clock was all out of joints, and had not gone for some years——It will give me the more time, thought I, to peruse the _Chinese_ history; and besides I shall be able to give the world a better account of the clock in its decay, than I could have done in its flourishing condition—— ——And so away I posted to the college of the Jesuits. Now it is with the project of getting a peep at the history of _China_ in _Chinese_ characters—as with many others I could mention, which strike the fancy only at a distance; for as I came nearer and nearer to the point—my blood cool’d—the freak gradually went off, till at length I would not have given a cherry-stone to have it gratified——The truth was, my time was short, and my heart was at the Tomb of the Lovers——I wish to God, said I, as I got the rapper in my hand, that the key of