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T H E L I F E A N D O P I N I O N S O F TRISTRAM SHANDY, G E N T L E M A N. Non enim excursus hic ejus, sed opus ipsum est. PLIN. Lib. quintus Epistola sexta. V O L. VII. L O N D O N : Printed for T. BECKET and P. A. DEHONT, in the Strand. M DCC LXV. |
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Page 33. Vol. VII. last line, dele and. Page 71. Vol. VII. 3d line, instead of striking, read sticking. Page 34. Vol. VIII. 13th line, read inflam- matory. |
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  T H EL I F E and O P I N I O N S O F T R I S T R A M S H A N D Y, Gent. ________________________________ NO ---- I think, I said, I would write two volumes every year, provided the vile cough which then tor- mented me, and which to this hour I dread worse than the devil, would but give me leave ---- and in another place -- (but where, I can't recollect now) speak- ing of my book as a machine, and lay- ing my pen and ruler down cross-wise VOL. VII. B upon |
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upon the table, in order to gain the greater credit to it -- I swore it should be kept a going at that rate these forty years if it pleased but the fountain of life to bless me so long with health and good spirits. Now as for my spirits, little have I to lay to their charge -- nay, so very little (unless the mounting me upon a long stick, and playing the fool with me nineteen hours out of the twenty-four, be accusations) that on the contrary, I have much -- much to thank 'em for : cheerily have ye made me tread the path of life with all the burdens of it (except its cares) upon my back ; in no one mo- ment of my existence, that I remember, have ye once deserted me, or tinged the ob- jects which came in my way, either with 9 sable, |
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sable, or with a sickly green ; in dangers ye gilded my horizon with hope, and when DEATH himself knocked at my door -- ye bad him come again ; and in so gay a tone of careless indifference, did ye do it, that he doubted of his commission ---- `` -- There must certainly be some mistake in this matter,'' quoth he. Now there is nothing in this world I abominate worse, than to be interrupted in a story ---- and I was that moment telling Eugenius a most tawdry one in my way, of a nun who fancied herself a shell-fish, and of a monk damn'd for eating a muscle, and was shewing him the grounds and justice of the proce- dure ---- B 2 `` -- Did |
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`` -- Did ever so grave a personage ``get into so vile a scrape?'' quoth Death. Thou hast had a narrow escape, Tristram, said Eugenius, taking hold of my hand as I finished my story ---- But there is no living, Eugenius, re- plied I, at this rate ; for as this son of a whore has found out my lodgings ---- -- You call him rightly, said Eugenius, -- for by sin, we are told, he enter'd the world ---- I care not which way he enter'd, quoth I, provided he be not in such a hurry to take me out with him -- for I have forty volumes to write, and forty thousand things to say and do, which nobody in the world will sey and do for me, except thyself ; and as thou 8 seest |
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seest he has got me by the throat (for Eugenius could scarce hear me speak across the table) and that I am no match for him in the open field, had I not better, whilst these few scatter'd spirits remain, and these two spider legs of mine (holding one of them up to him) are able to support me -- had I not better, Eugenius, fly for my life? 'tis my advice, my dear Tristram, said Eugenius ---- then by heaven! I will lead him a dance he little thinks of -- for I will gallop, quoth I, without look- ing once behind me to the banks of the Garonne ; and if I hear him clattering at my heels ---- I'll scamper away to mount Vesuvius ---- from thence to Jop- pa, and from Joppa to the world's end, where, if he follows me, I pray God he may break his neck ---- B3 -- He |
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-- He runs more risk there, said Eugenius, than thou. Eugenius's wit and affection brought blood into the cheek from whence it had been some months banish'd -- 'twas a vile moment to bid adieu in ; he led me to my chaise ---- Allons! said I ; the post boy gave a crack with his whip ---- off I went like a cannon, and in half a dozen bounds got into Dover. C H A P. |
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NOW hang it! quoth I, as I look'd towards the French coast -- a man should know something of his own country too, before he goes abroad ---- and I never gave a peep into Rochester church, or took notice of the dock of Chatham, or visited St. Thomas at Can- terbury, though they all three laid in my way------ -- But mine, indeed, is a particular case ---- So without arguing the matter further with Thomas o' Becket, or any one else -- I skip'd into the boat, and in five minutes we got under sail and scudded away like the wind. B 4 Pray |
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Pray captain, quoth I, as I was going down into the cabin, is a man never over- taken by Death in this passage? Why, there is not time for a man to be sick in it, replied he ---- What a cursed liar! for I am sick as a horse, quoth I, already ---- what a brain! ---- upside down! ---- heyday! the cells are broke loose one into another, and the blood, and the lymph, and the nervous juices, with the fix'd and volatile salts, are all jumbled into one mass ---- good g -- ! every thing turns round in it like a thousand whirl- pools ---- I'd give a shilling to know if I shan't write the clearer for it ---- Sick! sick! sick! sick! ---- --When |
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-- When shall we get to land, captain -- they have hearts like stones ---- O I am deadly sick! ---- reach me that thing, boy ---- 'tis the most discomfiting sick- ness ---- I wish I was at the bottom -- Madam! how is it with you? Undone! undone! un ---- O! undone! sir -- What, the first time? ---- No, 'tis the se cond, third, sixth, tenth time, sir, -- hey-day ---- what a trampling over head! -- hollo! cabin boy! what's the matter -- The wind chopp'd about! s'Death! -- then I shall meet him full in the face. What luck! -- 'tis chopp'd about again, master ---- O the devil chop it ---- Captain, quoth she, for heaven's sake, let us get ashore. C H A P. |
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IT is a great inconvenience to a man in a haste, that there are three distinct roads between Calais and Paris, in behalf of which there is so much to be said by the several deputies from the towns which lie along them, that half a day is easily lost in settling which you'll take. First, the road by Lille and Arras, which is the most about ---- but most in- teresting, and instructing. The second that by Amiens, which you may go, if you would see Chan- tilly ---- And that by Beauvais, which you may go, if you will. For |
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For this reason a great many chuse to go by Beauvais. ``NOW before I quit Calais,'' a tra- vel-writer would say, ``it would ``not be amiss to give some account of ``it.'' -- Now I think it very much amiss -- that a man cannot go quietly through a town, and let it alone, when it does not meddle with him, but that he must be turning about and drawing his pen at every kennel he crosses over, merely, o' my conscience, for the sake of drawing it ; because, if we may judge from what has been wrote of these things, by all who have wrote and gallop'd -- or who have gallop'd and wrote, which is a different way still ; or who for more expedition than |
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than the rest, have wrote-galloping, which is the way I do at present ---- from the great Addison who did it with his satchel of school-books hanging at his a-- and galling his beast's crupper at every stroke -- there is not a galloper of us all who might not have gone on ambling quietly in his own ground (in case he had any) and have wrote all he had to write, dry shod, as well as not. For my own part, as heaven is my judge, and to which I shall ever make my last appeal -- I know no more of Calais, (except the little my barber told me of it, as he was whetting his razor) than I do this moment of Grand Cairo ; for it was dusky in the evening when I landed, and dark as pitch in the morning when I set out, and yet by merely know- ing |
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ing what is what, and by drawing this from that in one part of the town, and by spelling and putting this and that to- gether in another -- I would lay any tra- velling odds, that I this moment write a chapter upon Calais as long as my arm ; and with so distinct and satisfactory a detail of every item, which is worth a stranger's curiosity in the town -- that you would take me for the town clerk of Calais itself -- and where, sir, would be the wonder? was not Democritus, who laughed ten times more than I -- town- clerk of Abdera? and was not (I forget his name) who had more discretion than us both, town clerk of Ephesus? ---- it should be penn'd moreover, Sir, with so much knowledge and good sense, and truth, and precision ---- -- Nay |
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-- Nay -- if you don't believe me, you may read the chapter for your pains. CALAIS, Calatium, Calusium, Calesium. This town, if we may trust its ar- chives, the authority of which I see no reason to call in question in this place -- was once no more than a small village be- longing to one of the first Counts de Guines ; and as it boasts at present of no less than fourteen thousand inhabitants, exclusive of four hundred and twenty distinct families in the basse ville, or sub- urbs ---- it must have grown up by little and little, I suppose, to its present size. Though |
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Though there are four convents, there is but one parochial church in the whole town ; I had not an opportunity of taking its exact dimensions, but it is pretty easy to make a tolerable conjecture of 'em -- for as there are fourteen thousand inhabi- tants in the town, if the church holds them all, it must be considerably large -- and if it will not -- 'tis a very great pity they have not another -- it is built in form of a cross, and dedicated to the Virgin Mary ; the steeple, which has a spire to it, is placed in the middle of the church, and stands upon four pillars elegant and light enough, but sufficiently strong at the same time -- it is decorated with eleven altars, most of which are rather fine than beautiful. The great altar is a master- piece in its kind ; 'tis of white marble, and as I was told near sixty feet high -- had |
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had it been much higher, it had been as high as mount Calvary itself -- therefore, I suppose it must be high enough in all conscience. There was nothing struck me more than the great Square ; tho' I cannot say 'tis either well paved or well built ; but 'tis in the heart of the town, and most of the streets, especially those in that quarter, all terminate in it ; could there have been a fountain in all Calais, which it seems there cannot, as such an object would have been a great ornament, it is not to be doubted, but that the inhabitants would have had it in the very centre of this square, -- not that it is properly a square, -- because 'tis forty feet longer from east to west, than from north to south ; so that the French in general have more reason |
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reason on their side in calling them Places than Squares, which strictly speak- ing, to be sure they are not. The town-house seems to be but a sorry building, and not to be kept in the best repair ; otherwise it had been a second great ornament to this place ; it answers however its destination, and serves very well for the reception of the magistrates, who assemble in it from time to time ; so that 'tis presumable, justice is regularly distributed. I had heard much of it, but there is nothing at all curious in the Courgain ; 'tis a distinct quarter of the town inhabi- ted solely by sailors and fishermen; it consists of a number of small streets, neatly built and mostly of brick ; 'tis VOL. VII C extremely |
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extremely populous, but as that may be accounted for, from the principles of their diet, -- there is nothing curious in that neither. ---- A traveller may see it to satisfy himself -- he must not omit how- ever taking notice of La Tour de Guet, upon any account ; 'tis so called from its particular destination, because in war it serves to discover and give notice of the enemies which approach the place, either by sea or land ; ---- but 'tis monstrous high, and catches the eye so continually, you cannot avoid taking notice of it, if you would. It was a singular disappointment to me, that I could not have permission to take an exact survey of the fortifications, which are the strongest in the world, and which, |
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which, from first to last, that is, from the time they were set about by Philip of France Count of Bologne, to the present war, wherein many reparations were made, have cost (as I learned afterwards from an engineer in Gascony) -- above a hundred millions of livres. It is very remarkable that at the Tête de Gra- veienes, and where the town is naturally the weakest, they have expended the most money ; so that the outworks stretch a great way into the campaign, and con- sequently occupy a large tract of ground. -- However, after all that is said and done, it must be acknowledged that Calais was never upon any account so considerable from itself, as from its situation, and that easy entrance which it gave our ances- tors upon all occasions into France : it was not without its inconveniences C 2 also ; |
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