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

farting and hickuping, say I. But in answer to this, Didius the great church lawyer, in his code de fartendi et illustrandi fallaciis, doth maintain and make fully appear, That an illustration is no argument⁠⸺⁠nor do I maintain the wiping of a looking-glass clean to be a syllogism;⁠⸺⁠but you all, may it please your worships, see the better for it⁠⸻so that the main good these things do is only to clarify the understanding, previous to the application of the argument itself, in order to free it from any little motes, or specks of opacular matter, which, if left swimming therein, might hinder a conception and spoil all.

Now, my dear anti-Shandeans, and thrice able criticks, and fellow-labourers (for to you I write this Preface)⁠⸻and to you, most subtle statesmen and discreet doctors (do⁠—pull off your beards) renowned for gravity and wisdom;⁠⸺⁠Monopolus, my politician⁠—Didius, my counsel; Kysarcius, my friend;⁠—Phutatorius, my guide;⁠⸺⁠Gastripheres, the preserver of my life; Somnolentius, the balm and repose of it⁠⸺⁠not forgetting all others, as well sleeping as waking, ecclesiastical as civil, whom for brevity, but out of no resentment to you, I lump all together.⁠⸻Believe me, right worthy,

My most zealous wish and fervent prayer in your behalf, and in my own too, in case the thing is not done already for us⁠⸺⁠is, that the great gifts and endowments both of wit and judgment, with everything which usually goes along with them⁠⸻such as memory, fancy, genius, eloquence, quick parts, and whatnot, may this precious moment, without stint or measure, let or hindrance, be poured down warm as each of us could bear it⁠—scum and sediment and all (for I would not have a drop lost) into the several receptacles, cells, cellules, domiciles, dormitories, refectories, and spare places of our brains⁠⸻in such sort, that they might continue to be injected and tunn’d into, according to the true intent and meaning of my wish, until every vessel of them, both great and small, be so replenish’d, saturated, and filled up therewith, that no more, would it save a man’s life, could possibly be got either in or out.

Bless us!⁠—what noble work we should make!⁠⸺⁠how should I tickle it off!⁠⸺⁠and what spirits should I find myself in, to be writing away for such readers!⁠⸺⁠and you⁠—just heaven!⁠⸺⁠with what raptures would you sit and read⁠—but oh!⁠—’tis too much⁠⸺⁠I am sick⁠⸺⁠I faint away deliciously at the thoughts of it⁠—’tis more than nature can bear!⁠—lay hold of me⁠⸺⁠I am giddy⁠—I am stone blind⁠—I’m dying⁠—I am gone.⁠—Help! Help! Help!⁠—But hold⁠—I grow something better again, for I am beginning to foresee, when this is over, that as we shall all of us continue to be great wits⁠—we should never agree amongst ourselves, one day to an end:⁠⸺⁠there would be so much satire and sarcasm⁠⸺⁠scoffing and flouting, with raillying and reparteeing of it⁠—thrusting and parrying in one corner or another⁠⸺⁠there would be nothing but mischief among us⁠⸺⁠Chaste stars! what biting and scratching, and what a racket and a clatter we should make, what with breaking of heads, rapping of knuckles, and hitting of sore places⁠—there would be no such thing as living for us.

But then again, as we should all of us be men of great judgment, we should make up matters as fast as ever they went wrong; and though we should abominate each other ten times worse than so many devils or devilesses, we should nevertheless, my dear creatures, be all courtesy and kindness, milk and honey⁠—’twould be a second land of promise⁠—a paradise upon earth, if there was such a thing to be had⁠—so that upon the whole we should have done well enough.

All I fret and fume at, and what most distresses my invention at present, is how to bring the point itself to bear; for as your worships well know, that of these heavenly emanations of wit and judgment, which I have so bountifully wished both for your worships and myself⁠—there is but a certain quantum stored up for us all, for the use and behoof of the whole race of mankind; and such small modicums of ’em are only sent forth into this wide world, circulating here and there in one bye corner or another⁠—and in such narrow streams, and at such prodigious intervals from each other, that one would wonder how it holds out, or could be sufficient for the wants and emergencies of so many great estates, and populous empires.

Indeed there is one thing to be considered, that in Nova Zembla, North Lapland, and in all those cold and dreary tracts of the globe, which lie more directly under the arctick and antarctick circles, where the whole province of a man’s concernments lies for near nine months together within the narrow compass of his cave⁠—where the spirits are compressed almost to nothing⁠—and where the passions of a man, with everything which belongs to them, are as frigid as the zone itself⁠—there the least quantity of judgment imaginable does the business⁠—and of wit⁠⸺⁠there is a total and an absolute saving⁠—for as not one spark is wanted⁠—so not one spark is given. Angels and ministers of grace defend us! what a dismal thing would it have been to have governed a kingdom, to have fought a battle, or made a treaty, or run a match, or wrote a book, or got a child, or held a provincial chapter there, with so plentiful a lack of wit and judgment about us! For mercy’s sake, let us think no more about it, but travel on as fast as we can southwards into Norway⁠—crossing over Swedeland, if you please, through the small triangular province of Angermania to the lake of Bothnia; coasting along it through east and west Bothnia, down to Carelia, and so on, through all those states and provinces which border upon the far side of the Gulf of Finland, and the northeast of the Baltick, up to Petersbourg, and just stepping into Ingria;⁠—then stretching over directly from thence through the north parts of the Russian empire⁠—leaving Siberia a little upon the left hand, till we got into the very heart of Russian