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

his vertex” (that is a sad curse, quoth my father), “in his temples, in his forehead, in his ears, in his eyebrows, in his cheeks, in his jawbones, 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 toenails!

“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 by was no small number, since what with the beards of your celestial gods, and gods aerial and aquatick⁠—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⸺⁠I 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 Hamet offered his⁠⸺⁠to have stood by, and heard my uncle Toby’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” (Obadiah) “unless he repent and make satisfaction! Amen. So be it,⁠—so be it. Amen.”

I declare, quoth my uncle Toby, 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 Toby.

Dr. Slop drew up his mouth, and was just beginning to return my uncle Toby the compliment of his Whu⁠—u⁠—u⁠—or interjectional whistle⁠⸺⁠when the door hastily opening in the next chapter but one⁠⸺⁠put an end to the affair.

XII

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, etc., etc., the whole set of ’em are so hung round and befetish’d with the bobs and trinkets of criticism,⁠⸺⁠or to drop my metaphor, which by the by 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, 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 Garrick speak the soliloquy last night?⁠—Oh, against all rule, my lord,⁠—most ungrammatically! betwixt the substantive and the adjective, 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 stopwatch, my lord, each time,⁠—Admirable grammarian!⁠⸺⁠But in suspending his voice⁠⸺⁠was the sense suspended likewise? Did no expression of attitude or countenance fill up the chasm?⁠⸺⁠Was the eye silent? Did you narrowly look?⁠⸻I look’d only at the stopwatch, 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, etc., 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 Dominichino⁠—the corregiescity of Corregio⁠—the learning of Poussin⁠—the airs of Guido⁠—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