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

Methinks, said Didius, half rising from his chair, in order to remove a bottle and a tall decanter, which stood in a direct line betwixt him and Yorick⁠⸺⁠you might have spared this sarcastic stroke, and have hit upon a more proper place, Mr. Yorick⁠—or at least upon a more proper occasion to have shown your contempt of what we have been about: If the sermon is of no better worth than to light pipes with⁠⸺’twas certainly, Sir, not good enough to be preached before so learned a body; and if ’twas good enough to be preached before so learned a body⁠⸺’twas certainly, Sir, too good to light their pipes with afterwards.

⸺⁠I have got him fast hung up, quoth Didius to himself, upon one of the two horns of my dilemma⁠⸺⁠let him get off as he can.

I have undergone such unspeakable torments, in bringing forth this sermon, quoth Yorick, upon this occasion⁠⸻that I declare, Didius, I would suffer martyrdom⁠—and if it was possible my horse with me, a thousand times over, before I would sit down and make such another: I was delivered of it at the wrong end of me⁠⸺⁠it came from my head instead of my heart⁠⸻and it is for the pain it gave me, both in the writing and preaching of it, that I revenge myself of it, in this manner⁠—To preach, to show the extent of our reading, or the subtleties of our wit⁠—to parade in the eyes of the vulgar with the beggarly accounts of a little learning, tinsel’d over with a few words which glitter, but convey little light and less warmth⁠⸺⁠is a dishonest use of the poor single half hour in a week which is put into our hands⁠—’Tis not preaching the gospel⁠—but ourselves⁠⸺⁠For my own part, continued Yorick, I had rather direct five words point-blank to the heart.⁠—

As Yorick pronounced the word point-blank, my uncle Toby rose up to say something upon projectiles⁠⸺⁠when a single word and no more uttered from the opposite side of the table drew everyone’s ears towards it⁠—a word of all others in the dictionary the last in that place to be expected⁠—a word I am ashamed to write⁠—yet must be written⁠⸺⁠must be read⁠—illegal⁠—uncanonical⁠—guess ten thousand guesses, multiplied into themselves⁠—rack⁠—torture your invention forever, you’re where you was⁠⸺⸺⁠In short, I’ll tell it in the next chapter.

Zounds!⁠⸻Z⁠⸺⁠ds! cried Phutatorius, partly to himself⁠⸺⁠and yet high enough to be heard⁠—and what seemed odd, ’twas uttered in a construction of look, and in a tone of voice, somewhat between that of a man in amazement and one in bodily pain.

One or two who had very nice ears, and could distinguish the expression and mixture of the two tones as plainly as a third or a fifth, or any other chord in music⁠—were the most puzzled and perplexed with it⁠—the concord was good in itself⁠—but then ’twas quite out of the key, and no way applicable to the subject started;⁠⸺⁠so that with all their knowledge, they could not tell what in the world to make of it.

Others who knew nothing of musical expression, and merely lent their ears to the plain import of the word, imagined that Phutatorius, who was somewhat of a cholerick spirit, was just going to snatch the cudgels out of Didius’s hands, in order to bemaul Yorick to some purpose⁠—and that the desperate monosyllable Z⁠⸺⁠ds was the exordium to an oration, which, as they judged from the sample, presaged but a rough kind of handling of him; so that my uncle Toby’s good-nature felt a pang for what Yorick was about to undergo. But seeing Phutatorius stop short, without any attempt or desire to go on⁠—a third party began to suppose, that it was no more than an involuntary respiration, casually forming itself into the shape of a twelve-penny oath⁠—without the sin or substance of one.

Others, and especially one or two who sat next him, looked upon it on the contrary as a real and substantial oath, propensly formed against Yorick, to whom he was known to bear no good liking⁠—which said oath, as my father philosophized upon it, actually lay fretting and fuming at that very time in the upper regions of Phutatorius’s purtenance; and so was naturally, and according to the due course of things, first squeezed out by the sudden influx of blood which was driven into the right ventricle of Phutatorius’s heart, by the stroke of surprise which so strange a theory of preaching had excited.

How finely we argue upon mistaken facts!

There was not a soul busied in all these various reasonings upon the monosyllable which Phutatorius uttered⁠⸺⁠who did not take this for granted, proceeding upon it as from an axiom, namely, that Phutatorius’s mind was intent upon the subject of debate which was arising between Didius and Yorick; and indeed as he looked first towards the one and then towards the other, with the air of a man listening to what was going forwards⁠—who would not have thought the same? But the truth was, that Phutatorius knew not one word or one syllable of what was passing⁠—but his whole thoughts and attention were taken up with a transaction which was going forwards at that very instant within the precincts of his own Galligaskins, and in a part of them, where of all others he stood most interested to watch accidents: So that notwithstanding he looked with all the attention in the world, and had gradually skrewed up every nerve and muscle in his face, to the utmost pitch the instrument would bear, in order, as it was thought, to give a sharp reply to Yorick, who sat over-against him⁠⸺⁠yet, I say, was Yorick never once in any one domicile of Phutatorius’s brain⁠⸺⁠but the true cause of his exclamation lay at least a yard below.

This I will endeavour to explain to you with all imaginable decency.

You must be informed then, that Gastripheres, who had taken a turn into the kitchen a little before dinner, to see