The Life and Opinions of Tristram Shandy, Gentleman Laurence Sterne (short novels to read .txt) 📖

of nurses, cried I, kneeling upon one knee, as I was beginning my apostrophe.

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.

XXXV

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, etc., 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 cornerstone of it⁠—nobody but Tristram Shandy ought to be hanged.

XXXVI

Though I was sensible I had said as many clever things to the commissary as came to six livres four sous, yet I was determined to note down the imposition amongst my remarks before I retired from the place; so putting my hand into my coat-pocket for my remarks⁠—(which, by the by, 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 everything 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 upstairs⁠—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.

XXXVII

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!⁠—show 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.

XXXVIII

When we arrived at the Chaise-vamper’s House, Both the House and the shop were shut up; it was the eighth of September, the nativity of the blessed Virgin Mary, mother of God⁠—

⸺⁠Tantarra-ra-tan-tivi⁠⸺⁠the whole world was gone out a May-poling⁠—frisking here⁠—capering there⁠⸺⁠nobody cared a button for me or my remarks; so I sat me down upon a bench by the door, 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 Maypoles⁠⸺⁠

The French women, by the by, love Maypoles, à la folie⁠—that is, as much as their matins⁠⸺⁠give ’em but a Maypole, 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