The Life and Opinions of Tristram Shandy [191]
yards out of town.
What's wrong now?--Diable!--a rope's broke!--a knot has slipt!--a staple's drawn!--a bolt's to whittle!--a tag, a rag, a jag, a strap, a buckle, or a buckle's tongue, want altering.
Now true as all this is, I never think myself impowered to excommunicate thereupon either the post-chaise, or its driver--nor do I take it into my head to swear by the living G.., I would rather go a-foot ten thousand times--or that I will be damn'd, if ever I get into another--but I take the matter coolly before me, and consider, that some tag, or rag, or jag, or bolt, or buckle, or buckle's tongue, will ever be a wanting or want altering, travel where I will--so I never chaff, but take the good and the bad as they fall in my road, and get on:--Do so, my lad! said I; he had lost five minutes already, in alighting in order to get at a luncheon of black bread, which he had cramm'd into the chaise-pocket, and was remounted, and going leisurely on, to relish it the better.--Get on, my lad, said I, briskly--but in the most persuasive tone imaginable, for I jingled a four-and-twenty sous piece against the glass, taking care to hold the flat side towards him, as he look'd back: the dog grinn'd intelligence from his right ear to his left, and behind his sooty muzzle discovered such a pearly row of teeth, that Sovereignty would have pawn'd her jewels for them.
Just heaven! What masticators!--/What bread!--
and so as he finished the last mouthful of it, we entered the town of Montreuil.
Chapter 3.XCII.
There is not a town in all France which, in my opinion, looks better in the map, than Montreuil;--I own, it does not look so well in the book of post- roads; but when you come to see it--to be sure it looks most pitifully.
There is one thing, however, in it at present very handsome; and that is, the inn-keeper's daughter: She has been eighteen months at Amiens, and six at Paris, in going through her classes; so knits, and sews, and dances, and does the little coquetries very well.--
--A slut! in running them over within these five minutes that I have stood looking at her, she has let fall at least a dozen loops in a white thread stocking--yes, yes--I see, you cunning gipsy!--'tis long and taper--you need not pin it to your knee--and that 'tis your own--and fits you exactly.--
--That Nature should have told this creature a word about a statue's thumb!
--But as this sample is worth all their thumbs--besides, I have her thumbs and fingers in at the bargain, if they can be any guide to me,--and as Janatone withal (for that is her name) stands so well for a drawing--may I never draw more, or rather may I draw like a draught-horse, by main strength all the days of my life,--if I do not draw her in all her proportions, and with as determined a pencil, as if I had her in the wettest drapery.--
--But your worships chuse rather that I give you the length, breadth, and perpendicular height of the great parish-church, or drawing of the facade of the abbey of Saint Austreberte which has been transported from Artois hither--every thing is just I suppose as the masons and carpenters left them,--and if the belief in Christ continues so long, will be so these fifty years to come--so your worships and reverences may all measure them at your leisures--but he who measures thee, Janatone, must do it now--thou carriest the principles of change within thy frame; and considering the chances of a transitory life, I would not answer for thee a moment; ere twice twelve months are passed and gone, thou mayest grow out like a pumpkin, and lose thy shapes--or thou mayest go off like a flower, and lose thy beauty--nay, thou mayest go off like a hussy--and lose thyself.--I would not answer for my aunt Dinah, was she alive--'faith, scarce for her picture--were it but painted by Reynolds.
But if I go on with my drawing, after naming that son of Apollo, I'll be shot--
So you must e'en be content with the original; which, if the evening is fine in passing thro' Montreuil, you will see at your chaise-door, as you change horses:
What's wrong now?--Diable!--a rope's broke!--a knot has slipt!--a staple's drawn!--a bolt's to whittle!--a tag, a rag, a jag, a strap, a buckle, or a buckle's tongue, want altering.
Now true as all this is, I never think myself impowered to excommunicate thereupon either the post-chaise, or its driver--nor do I take it into my head to swear by the living G.., I would rather go a-foot ten thousand times--or that I will be damn'd, if ever I get into another--but I take the matter coolly before me, and consider, that some tag, or rag, or jag, or bolt, or buckle, or buckle's tongue, will ever be a wanting or want altering, travel where I will--so I never chaff, but take the good and the bad as they fall in my road, and get on:--Do so, my lad! said I; he had lost five minutes already, in alighting in order to get at a luncheon of black bread, which he had cramm'd into the chaise-pocket, and was remounted, and going leisurely on, to relish it the better.--Get on, my lad, said I, briskly--but in the most persuasive tone imaginable, for I jingled a four-and-twenty sous piece against the glass, taking care to hold the flat side towards him, as he look'd back: the dog grinn'd intelligence from his right ear to his left, and behind his sooty muzzle discovered such a pearly row of teeth, that Sovereignty would have pawn'd her jewels for them.
Just heaven! What masticators!--/What bread!--
and so as he finished the last mouthful of it, we entered the town of Montreuil.
Chapter 3.XCII.
There is not a town in all France which, in my opinion, looks better in the map, than Montreuil;--I own, it does not look so well in the book of post- roads; but when you come to see it--to be sure it looks most pitifully.
There is one thing, however, in it at present very handsome; and that is, the inn-keeper's daughter: She has been eighteen months at Amiens, and six at Paris, in going through her classes; so knits, and sews, and dances, and does the little coquetries very well.--
--A slut! in running them over within these five minutes that I have stood looking at her, she has let fall at least a dozen loops in a white thread stocking--yes, yes--I see, you cunning gipsy!--'tis long and taper--you need not pin it to your knee--and that 'tis your own--and fits you exactly.--
--That Nature should have told this creature a word about a statue's thumb!
--But as this sample is worth all their thumbs--besides, I have her thumbs and fingers in at the bargain, if they can be any guide to me,--and as Janatone withal (for that is her name) stands so well for a drawing--may I never draw more, or rather may I draw like a draught-horse, by main strength all the days of my life,--if I do not draw her in all her proportions, and with as determined a pencil, as if I had her in the wettest drapery.--
--But your worships chuse rather that I give you the length, breadth, and perpendicular height of the great parish-church, or drawing of the facade of the abbey of Saint Austreberte which has been transported from Artois hither--every thing is just I suppose as the masons and carpenters left them,--and if the belief in Christ continues so long, will be so these fifty years to come--so your worships and reverences may all measure them at your leisures--but he who measures thee, Janatone, must do it now--thou carriest the principles of change within thy frame; and considering the chances of a transitory life, I would not answer for thee a moment; ere twice twelve months are passed and gone, thou mayest grow out like a pumpkin, and lose thy shapes--or thou mayest go off like a flower, and lose thy beauty--nay, thou mayest go off like a hussy--and lose thyself.--I would not answer for my aunt Dinah, was she alive--'faith, scarce for her picture--were it but painted by Reynolds.
But if I go on with my drawing, after naming that son of Apollo, I'll be shot--
So you must e'en be content with the original; which, if the evening is fine in passing thro' Montreuil, you will see at your chaise-door, as you change horses: