[ 100 ]

  ---- I thought so, by heaven! cried
my father, interrupting him ---- Saint
Optat! ---- how should Saint Optat fail?
so snatching out his pocket-book, and the
young Benedictine holding him the torch
as he wrote, he set it down as a new prop
to his system of christian names, and I
will be bold to say, so disinterested was
he in the search of truth, that had he
found a treasure in St. Optat's tomb,
it would not have made him half so rich :
'Twas as successful a short visit as ever
was paid to the dead ; and so highly was
his fancy pleas'd with all that had passed
in it, -- that he determined at once to
stay another day in Auxerre.

  -- I'll see the rest of these good gentry
to-morrow, said my father, as we cross'd
over the square -- And while you are paying

[ 101 ]

that visit, brother Shandy, quoth my
uncle Toby -- the corporal and I will
mount the ramparts.


----NOW this is the most puzzled
skein of all ---- for in this
last chapter, as far at least as it has
help'd me through Auxerre, I have been
getting forwards in two different journeys
together, and with the same dash of the
pen -- for I have got entirely out of Aux-
erre in this journey which I am writing
now, and I am got half way out of
Auxerre in that which I shall write here-
after --- There is but a certain degree of
perfection in every thing ; and by push-
ing at something beyond that, I have
brought myself into such a situation, as
             H 3              no

[ 102 ]

no traveller ever stood before me ; for I
am this moment walking across the
market-place of Auxerre with my fa-
ther and my uncle Toby, in our way
back to dinner ---- and I am this mo-
ment also entering Lyons with my post-
chaise broke into a thousand pieces -- and
I am moreover this moment in a hand-
some pavillion built by Pringello*, up-
on the banks of the Garonne, which
Mons. Sligniac has lent me, and where I
now sit rhapsodizing all these affairs.

  ---- Let me collect myself, and pur-
sue my journey.

* The same Don Pringello, the celebrated Spa-
nish architect, of whom my cousin Antony has
made such honourable mention in a scholium to
the Tale inscribed to his name.
             Vid. p. 129, small edit.

                          C H A P.

[ 103 ]


I Am glad of it, said I, settling the
account with myself as I walk'd in-
to Lyons ---- my chaise being all laid
higgledy-piggledy with my baggage in
a cart, which was moving slowly before
me ---- I am heartily glad, said I, that
'tis all broke to pieces ; for now I can go
directly by water to Avignon, which will
carry me on a hundred and twenty miles
of my journey, and not cost me seven
livres ---- and from thence, continued I,
bringing forwards the account, I can hire
a couple of mules -- or asses, if I like,
(for no body knows me) and cross the
plains of Languedoc, for almost no-
thing ---- I shall gain four hundred livres
by the misfortune clear into my purse ;
             H 4              and

[ 104 ]

and pleasure! worth -- worth double the
money by it. With what velocity, con-
tinued I, clapping my two hands toge-
ther, shall I fly down the rapid Rhone,
with the VIVARES on my right-hand,
and DAUPHINY on my left, scarce seeing
the ancient cities of VIENNE, Valence, and
Vivieres. What a flame will it rekindle
in the lamp, to snatch a blushing grape
from the Hermitage and Cotê rotie, as I
shoot by the foot of them! and what a
fresh spring in the blood! to behold up-
on the banks advancing and retiring, the
castles of romance, whence courteous
knights have whilome rescued the dis-
tress'd ---- and see, vertiginous, the rocks,
the mountains, the cataracts, and all the
hurry which Nature is in with all her great
works about her ----

[ 105 ]

  As I went on thus, methought my
chaise, the wreck of which look'd stately
enough at the first, insensibly grew less
and less in its size ; the freshness of the
painting was no more -- the gilding lost its
lustre -- and the whole affair appeared
so poor in my eyes -- so sorry! -- so con-
temptible! and, in a word, so much
worse than the abbess ofAndoüillets' it-
self -- that I was just opening my mouth
to give it to the devil -- when a pert vamp-
ing chaise-undertaker, stepping nimbly
across the street, demanded if Monsieur
would have his chaise refitted ---- No,
no, said I, shaking my head sideways --
Would Monsieur choose to sell it? rejoin'd
the undertaker -- With all my soul, said
I -- the iron work is worth forty livres --
and the glasses worth forty more -- and the
leather you may take to live on.

[ 106 ]

  -- What a mine of wealth, quoth I, as
he counted me the money, has this post
chaise brought me in? And this is my
usual method of book-keeping, at least
with the disasters of life -- making a penny
of every one of 'em as they happen to
me ----

  ---- Do, my dear Jenny, tell the
world for me, how I behaved under one,
the most oppressive of its kind which
could befall me as a man, proud, as he
ought to be, of his manhood ----

  'Tis enough, said'st thou, coming close
up to me, as I stood with my garters in
my hand, reflecting upon what had not
pass'd ---- 'Tis enough, Tristram, and I
am satisfied, said'st thou, whispering these
words in my ear,  * * * *  * *  * * * *
* * *  * * * * * * ; -- * * * *  * *  * * * *
                          ---- any

[ 107 ]

---- any other man would have sunk
down to the center ----

  ---- Every thing is good for some-
thing, quoth I.

  ---- I'll go into Wales for six weeks,
and drink goat's whey -- and I'll gain
seven years longer life for the accident.
For which reason I think myself inex-
cusable, for blamng Fortune so often as
I have done, for pelting me all my life
long, like an ungracious duchess, as I
call'd her, with so many small evils : sure-
ly if I have any cause to be angry with
her, 'tis that she has not sent me great
ones -- a score of good cursed, bouncing
losses, would have been as good as a
pension to me.

                          ---- One

[ 108 ]

  ---- One of a hundred a year, or so,
is all I wish -- I would not be at the plague
of paying land tax for a larger.


TO those who call vexations,
VEXATIONS, as knowing what
they are, there could not be a greater,
than to be the best part of a day in Ly-
ons, the most opulent and flourishing
city in France, enriched with the most
fragments of antiquity -- and not be able
to see it. To be withheld upon any ac-
count, must be a vexation ; but to be
withheld by a vexation ---- must certainly
be, what philosophy justly calls

                          I had

[ 109 ]

  I had got my two dishes of milk cof-
fee (which by the bye is excellently good
for a consumption, but you must boil
the milk and coffee together -- other-
wise 'tis only coffee and milk) -- and as
it was no more than eight in the morn-
ing, and the boat did not go off till noon,
I had time to see enough of Lyons to tire
the patience of all the friends I had in
the world with it. I will take a walk
to the cathedral, said I, looking at my
list, and see the wonderful mechanism of
this great clock of Lippius of Basil, in
the firstplace ----

  Now, of all things in the world, I
understand the least of mechanism ----
I have neither genius, or taste, or fancy
-- and have a brain so entirely unapt for

[ 110 ]

every thing of that kind, that I solemnly
declare I was never yet able to compre-
hend the principles of motion of a squir-
rel cage, or a common knife grinder's
wheel -- tho' I have many an hour of my
life look'd up with great devotion at the
one -- and stood by with as much patience
as any christian ever could do, at the
other ----

  I'll go see the surprising movements of
this great clock, said I, the very first thing
I do : and then I will pay a visit to the
great library of the Jesuits, and procure,
if possible, a sight of the thirty volumes
of the general history of China, wrote
(not in the Tartarian) but in the Chinese
language, and in the Chinese character


[ 111 ]

  Now I almost know as little of the
Chinese language, as I do of the me-
chanism of Lippius's clock-work ; so,
why these should have jostled them-
selves into the two first articles of my
list ---- I leave to the curious as a pro-
blem of Nature. I own it looks like one
of her ladyship's obliquities ; and they
who court her, are interested in finding
out her humour as much as I.

  When these curiosities are seen, quoth I,
half addressing myself to my valet de place,
who stood behind me ---- 'twill be no
hurt if WE go to the church of St. Ire-
neus, and see the pillar to which Christ
was tied ---- and after that, the house
where Pontius Pilate lived ---- 'Twas at
             8              the

[ 112 ]

the next town, said the valet de place --
at Vienne ; I am glad of it, said I, ris-
ing briskly from my chair, and walk-
ing across the room with strides twice as
long as my usual pace ---- ``for so much
``the sooner shall I be at the Tomb of the
``two lovers

  What was the cause of this move-
ment, and why I took such long strides
in uttering this ---- I might leave to the
curious too ; but as no principle of clock-
work is concern'd in it ---- 'twill be as
well for the reader if I explain it myself.

                          C H A P.

[ 113 ]


O! There is a sweet æra in the life of
man when, (the brain being ten-
der and fibrillous, and more like pap than
any thing else) ---- a story read of two
fond lovers, separated from each other by
cruel parents, and by still more cruel
destiny ----

        Amandus ---- He
        Amanda ---- She ----

each ignorant of the other's course,

        He ---- east
        She ---- west

Amandus taken captive by the Turks,
and carried to the emperor of Mo-
rocco's court, where the princess of Mo-
rocco falling in love with him, keeps him
   VOL. VII        I            twenty

[ 114 ]

twenty years in prison, for the love of
his Amanda ----

  She -- (Amanda) all the time wander-
ing barefoot, and with dishevell'd hair,
o'er rocks and mountains enquiring for
Amandus ---- Amandus ! Amandus! --
making every hill and valley to echo back
his name ----

        Amandus! Amandus !

at every town and city sitting down for-
lorn at the gate ---- Has Amandus! --
has my Amandus enter'd? ---- till, ----
going round, and round, and round the
world ---- chance unexpected bringing
them at the same moment of the night,
though by different ways, to the gate of
Lyons their native city, and each in well
known accents calling out aloud,


[ 115 ]

   Is Amandus } still alive?
   Is my Amanda

they fly into each other's arms, and both
drop down dead for joy.

  There is a soft æra in every gentle
mortal's life, where such a story affords
more pabulum to the brain, than all the
Frusts, and Crusts, and Rusts of antiquity
which travellers can cook up for it.

  ---- 'Twas all that struck on the right
side of the cullender in my own, of what
Spon and others, in their accounts of
Lyons, had strained into it ; and finding,
moreover, in some Itinerary, but in what
God knows ---- That sacred to the fide-
lity of Amandus and Amanda, a tomb
was built without the gates, where to
this hour, lovers call'd upon them to
             I 2              attest

[ 116 ]

attest their truths, ---- I never could get
into a scrape of that kind in my life, but
this tomb of the lovers, would some how
or other, come in at the close ---- nay
such a kind of empire had it establish'd
over me, that I could seldom think or
speak of Lyons -- and sometimes not so
much as see even a Lyons-waistcoat, but
this remnant of antiquity would present
itself to my fancy ; and I have often said
in my wild way of running on ---- tho'
I fear with some irreverence ---- ``I
thought this shrine (neglected as it was)
as valuable as that of Mecca, and so little
short, except in wealth, of the Santa
Casa itself, that sometime or other, I
would go a pilgrimage (though I had no
other business at Lyons) on purpose to
pay it a visit.''


[ 117 ]

  In my list, therefore, of Videnda at
Lyons, this, tho' last -- was not, you see,
least ; so taking a dozen or two of longer
strides than usual across my room, just
whilst it passed my brain, I walked down
calmly into the Basse Cour, in order to
sally forth ; and having called for my
bill -- as it was uncertain whether I should
return to my inn, I had paid it ---- had
moreover given the maid ten sous, and
was just receiving the dernier compli-
ments of Monsieur Le Blanc, for a
pleasant voyage down the Rhône ----
when I was stopped at the gate ----

             I 3              C H A P.

[ 118 ]


---- 'TWAS by a poor ass who had
just turned in with a couple
of large panniers upon his back, to col-
lect eleemosunary turnip tops and cab-
bage leaves ; and stood dubious, with his
two forefeet on the inside of the threshold,
and with his two hinder feet towards the
street, as not knowing very well whe-
ther he was to go in, or no.

  Now, 'tis an animal (be in what hurry
I may) I cannot bear to strike ---- there
is a patient endurance of sufferings, wrote
so unaffectedly in his looks and carriage,
which pleads so mightily for him, that it
always disarms me ; and to that degree,
that I do not like to speak unkindly to
him : on the contrary, meet him where I

[ 119 ]

will -- whether in town or country -- in
cart or under panniers -- whether in liber-
ty or bondage ---- I have ever something
civil to say to him on my part ; and as
one word begets another (if he has as little
to do as I) ---- I generally fall into con-
versation with him ; and surely never is
my imagination so busy as in framing
his responses from the etchings of his
countenance -- and where those carry me
not deep enough ---- in flying from my
own heart into his, and seeing what is
natural for an ass to think -- as well as a
man, upon the occasion. In truth, it is
the only creature of all the classes of be-
ings below me, with whom I can do
this : for parrots, jackdaws, &c. ---- I
never exchange a word with them ----
nor with the apes, &c. for pretty near
the same reason ; they act by rote, as the
             I 4              others