Laurence Sterne's Tristram Shandy, Abridged

by Emma Laybourn

  ‘Will that restore it to sight?’ asked my uncle Toby.

  ‘Go on, Trim,’ quoth my father, ‘or Obadiah will have got back before thou hast finished thy sermon.’

  ‘’Tis a very short one,’ replied Trim.

  ‘I wish it was longer,’ quoth my uncle Toby, ‘for I like it hugely.’

  Trim went on.]

  ‘“A fourth man shall lack even this refuge; he scorns the doubtful workings of secret plots. See the bare-faced villain, how he cheats, lies, perjures, robs, murders! Horrid! – But indeed no better was to be expected, for the poor man was in the dark! His priest had got the keeping of his conscience; and all he would let him know of it, was that he must believe in the Pope; go to Mass; cross himself; be a good Catholic, and that this was enough to carry him to heaven.

  ‘“But if he is so wicked, you may say, – if he robs and stabs, will not his conscience receive a wound? – Aye, but the man has carried it to confession; the wound will soon be quite healed up by absolution. O Popery! what hast thou to answer for? Not content with the many natural ways in which the heart of man is every day treacherous to itself, thou hast wilfully set open the wide gate of deceit to this unwary traveller, too apt, God knows, to go astray, and confidently speak peace to himself, when there is no peace.

  ‘“Examples of this are too notorious to require much evidence. If any man doubts them, I must refer him to his own reflections, and will then trust my appeal with his heart.

  ‘“He will soon find that there, wicked actions are viewed differently: some, which his wishes and habits have prompted him to commit, are painted with false beauty; yet others, to which he feels no inclination, appear naked and deformed, surrounded with folly and dishonour.

  ‘“When David surprised Saul sleeping in the cave, and cut off the skirt of his robe – we read his heart smote him for what he had done. But in the matter of Uriah, where a faithful and gallant servant, whom he ought to have loved, fell to make way for his lust, – where conscience had so much greater reason to take alarm, his heart smote him not. We read not once of the least sorrow or compunction which he felt for what he had done.

  ‘“Thus conscience, placed on high as a judge within us, and intended by our Maker as a just one, – by an unhappy train of impediments, does its office so imperfectly – sometimes so corruptly – that it is not to be trusted alone. Therefore we find there is an absolute necessity of joining another principle with it, to aid its determinations.

  ‘“So that if you would form a just judgment of the degree of merit in which you stand, – call in religion and morality. What is written in the law of God? Consult calm reason and the obligations of justice and truth; what say they?

  ‘“Let Conscience determine the matter upon these reports; and then if thy heart condemns thee not, the rule will be infallible;”’ [Here Dr. Slop fell asleep] – ‘“thou wilt have just grounds to believe that the judgment thou hast passed upon thyself, is the judgment of God; and an anticipation of that righteous sentence which will be pronounced upon thee hereafter, when thou art finally called to account.

  ‘“Blessed is the man, indeed, then, as the author of Ecclesiasticus says, who is not pricked with the multitude of his sins. Blessed is the man whose heart hath not condemned him; whether he be rich, or poor, if he have a good heart, he shall rejoice; his mind shall tell him more than seven watch-men upon a tower on high.”’

  [‘A tower has no strength,’ quoth my uncle Toby, ‘unless ’tis flanked.’]

  ‘“In the darkest doubts it shall conduct him safer than all the restrictions of law-makers, forced out of pure necessity to guard against the mischievous effects of those consciences which are corrupt and misguided.”’

  [‘I see plainly,’ said my father, ‘that this sermon has been composed to be preached at the law-courts. I like the reasoning, and am sorry that Dr. Slop has fallen asleep: for it is now clear, that the Parson, as I thought at first, never insulted St. Paul in the least; nor has there been the least difference between them.’

  ‘The best friends in the world may differ sometimes,’ replied my uncle Toby.

  ‘True, brother Toby,’ quoth my father, shaking hands with him. ‘We’ll fill our pipes, and then Trim shall go on. What dost thou think of it, Trim?’

  ‘I think,’ answered the Corporal, ‘that the seven watch-men upon the tower, who, I suppose, are sentinels, are more than necessary; and to go on at that rate, would harass a regiment all to pieces, which a commanding officer will never do. Two sentinels are as good as twenty. – I have been a commanding officer myself,’ continued Trim, rising an inch higher, ‘and all the time I had the honour to serve his Majesty King William, I never left more than two sentinels in my life.’

  ‘Very right, Trim,’ quoth my uncle Toby, ‘but the towers in Solomon’s days were not like our bastions; nor had they hornworks, or ravelins before the curtin, in his time; or such a fossé as we make with a cuvette in the middle, and counterscarps pallisadoed along it. The seven men upon the tower were set there, I daresay, not only to look out, but to defend it.’

  My father smiled inwardly, but not outwardly; the subject being rather too serious to make a jest of. Putting his pipe into his mouth, he ordered Trim to read on.]

  ‘“To have the fear of God before our eyes, and to govern our actions by the eternal measures of right and wrong: the first of these will follow the duties of religion; the second, those of morality, which are so inseparably connected together that you cannot divide them (though the attempt is often made) without breaking them both.

  ‘“I said the attempt is often made; and so it is; – there being nothing more common than a man who has no sense of religion, and indeed has enough honesty to pretend to none, who would take it as the bitterest affront should you hint at a suspicion of his moral character, or imagine he was not completely just and scrupulous.

  ‘“There is little reason to envy such a one the honour of his motive. Let him declaim as pompously as he chooses, it will be found to rest upon no better foundation than his interest, his pride, his ease, or some other such changeable passion as gives us little dependence upon his actions in matters of great distress.

  ‘“I will illustrate this by an example.

  ‘“I know the banker I deal with, or the physician I usually call in–”’

  [‘There is no need,’ cried Dr. Slop, waking, ‘to call in any physician in this case.’]

  ‘“– to be neither of them men of religion: I hear them make a scornful jest of it every day. Despite this, I put my fortune into the hands of the one, and I trust my life to the honest skill of the other.

  ‘“Now let me examine my reason for this great confidence. Firstly, I do not believe that either of them will use the power I put into their hands to my disadvantage; I know their success in the world depends upon the fairness of their characters. In a word, they cannot hurt me without hurting themselves more.

  ‘“But if interest lay, for once, on the other side; if the one, without stain to his reputation, could take my fortune, or the other could enjoy an estate by my death, without dishonour to himself – in this case, what hold have I over either of them? Religion, the strongest of all motives, is out of the question; Interest, the next most powerful motive in the world, is strongly against me. What have I left to cast into the opposite scale to balance this temptation? Alas! I have nothing. I am at the mercy of Honour, or some such capricious principle – poor security for my property and my health!

  ‘“As, therefore, we cannot depend upon morality without religion, so there is nothing better to be expected from religion without morality. Nevertheless, ’tis not uncommon to see a man whose real moral character stands very low, who yet entertains the highest notion of himself as a religious man.

  ‘“He may be covetous, revengeful, implacable, and dishonest; yet he talks loudly against the infidelity of the age, goes twice a day to church, attends the sacraments, and cheats his conscience into thinking that he is a religious m
an, and has discharged truly his duty to God. You will find such a man generally looks down upon everyone who has less apparent piety, – though, perhaps, ten times more real honesty than himself.

  ‘“I believe there is no one mistaken principle which has wrought more serious mischief. For a proof of this, examine the history of the Romish church; see what scenes of cruelty, murder, rapine, bloodshed–”’

  [‘They may thank their own obstinacy,’ cried Dr. Slop.]

  ‘“– have all been sanctified by a religion not governed by morality. In how many countries has the crusading sword of this misguided saint-errant spared neither age nor merit? and, as he fought under the banners of a religion which freed him from justice and humanity, he showed none; mercilessly trampled upon the unfortunate, and pitied not their distress.”

  [‘I have been in many a battle,’ quoth Trim, sighing, ‘but never in so melancholy a one as this.’

  ‘Why? what do you understand of it?’ said Dr. Slop, looking at Trim with something of contempt.

  ‘I know,’ replied Trim, ‘that I never refused mercy to any man who begged for it; and rather than fire upon a child or woman, I would lose my life a thousand times.’

  ‘Here’s a crown for thee, Trim, to drink with Obadiah to-night,’ quoth my uncle Toby.

  ‘God bless your Honour,’ replied Trim; ‘I had rather those poor women and children had it.’

  ‘Thou art an honest fellow,’ quoth my uncle.

  My father nodded. ‘But prithee, Trim,’ he said, ‘make an end, for I see thou hast but a page or two left.’

  Corporal Trim read on.]

  ‘“If the testimony of past centuries in this matter is not enough, consider how the votaries of that religion are every day thinking to serve God, by actions which are a dishonour and scandal.

  ‘“To be convinced of this, go with me for a moment into the prisons of the Inquisition.” [God help my poor brother Tom.] “Behold Religion, with Mercy and Justice chained under her feet, there sitting ghastly upon a black tribunal, propped up with racks and instruments of torment. Hark! what a piteous groan!”’ [Here Trim’s face turned as pale as ashes.] ‘“See the melancholy wretch who uttered it–”’ [Here the tears began to trickle down] ‘“–brought forth to undergo the anguish of a mock trial, and endure the utmost pains that a studied system of cruelty has been able to invent.” [‘D__n them all,’ quoth Trim.] ‘“Behold this helpless victim, his body so wasted with sorrow and confinement–”

  [‘Oh! ’tis my brother,’ cried poor Trim, dropping the sermon upon the ground. My father and my uncle, and even Slop himself, pitied the poor fellow’s distress.

  ‘Why, Trim,’ said my father, ‘this is not a history, ’tis a sermon: prithee begin the sentence again.’]

  ‘“Behold this helpless victim, his body so wasted with sorrow and confinement, you will see every nerve and muscle as it suffers.

  ‘“Observe the last movement of that horrid engine!” [‘I would rather face a cannon,’ quoth Trim.] “See what convulsions it has thrown him into! Consider what exquisite tortures he endures! ’Tis all nature can bear! Good God! see how it keeps his weary soul hanging upon his trembling lips!”

  [‘I would not read another line,’ quoth Trim, ‘for the world; I fear all this is in Portugal, where my poor brother Tom is.’

  ‘I tell thee, Trim,’ quoth my father, ‘’tis not a history.’

  ‘There’s not a word of truth in it,’ quoth Slop.

  ‘That’s another story,’ replied my father. ‘However, ’tis cruelty to force Trim to go on. Give me the sermon, Trim; I’ll finish it, and thou may’st go.’

  ‘I must stay and hear it,’ replied Trim.

  ‘Poor Trim!’ quoth my uncle Toby.

  My father went on.]

  ‘“– Consider what exquisite torture he endures! ’Tis all nature can bear! Good God! See how it keeps his weary soul hanging upon his trembling lips, not suffered to depart! Behold the unhappy wretch led back to his cell!”’

  [‘Thank God,’ quoth Trim, ‘they have not killed him.’]

  ‘“See him dragged out of it again to meet the flames in his last agonies, which this principle – that there can be religion without mercy – has prepared for him.”’

  [‘Thank God, he is dead,’ quoth Trim, ‘he is out of his pain.’

  ‘Hush, Trim,’ said my father, lest Trim should incense Dr. Slop; ‘we shall never have done at this rate.]

  ‘“The surest way to test the merit of any disputed notion is, to trace its consequences, and compare them with the spirit of Christianity; ’tis the rule which our Saviour hath left us, and it is worth a thousand arguments – By their fruits ye shall know them.

  ‘“I will add no more, apart from two or three short rules deducible from this.

  ‘“First, whenever a man talks loudly against religion, always suspect that it is not his reason, but his passions speaking. A bad life and a good belief are troublesome neighbours.

  ‘“Secondly, when a man tells you that something goes against his conscience, believe he means exactly the same as when he tells you something goes against his stomach.

  ‘“In a word, – trust that man in nothing, who has not a Conscience in everything.

  ‘“And, in your own case, remember that your conscience is not a law. God and reason made the law, and have placed conscience within you to determine – not according to the ebbs and flows of passion, but like a judge, who makes no new law, but faithfully declares that law which he knows already written.

  ‘“FINIS.”

  ‘Thou hast read the sermon extremely well, Trim,’ quoth my father.

  ‘If he had spared his comments,’ replied Dr. Slop, ‘he would have read it much better.’

  ‘I should have read it ten times better, Sir,’ answered Trim, ‘but that my heart was so full.’

  ‘That was the very reason, Trim,’ replied my father, ‘which made thee read the sermon so well; and if our clergy would feel as deeply as this poor fellow, the eloquence of our pulpits would be a model for the whole world. I like the sermon well, ’tis dramatic, and catches the attention.’

  ‘We preach much in that way,’ said Dr. Slop.

  ‘I know that very well,’ said my father, but in a tone which disgusted Dr. Slop.

  ‘But our sermons have the advantage,’ said Dr. Slop, a little piqued, ‘in that we never introduce any character into them below a patriarch, a martyr or a saint.’

  ‘There are some very bad characters in this,’ said my father, ‘but I do not think the sermon a jot worse for ’em.’

  ‘But pray,’ quoth my uncle Toby, ‘whose can this be? How could it get into my Stevinus?’

  ‘In answer to the first question, I know the author,’ quoth my father; ‘for ’tis the parson of the parish.’

  The style of it matching those my father constantly heard preached in his parish-church, he guessed that it was Yorick’s. – It was proved to be so the next day, when Yorick sent a servant to my uncle Toby’s house to enquire after it.

  It seems that Yorick had borrowed Stevinus, and had carelessly popped his sermon, which he had just written, into the middle of it; and forgetfully sent Stevinus home with his sermon to keep him company.

  Ill-fated sermon! Thou wast lost, after this recovery, a second time, dropped through an unsuspected hole in thy master’s pocket, down into a treacherous and tattered lining, – trod deep into the dirt by the hind-foot of his horse; buried ten days in the mire, – raised up out of it by a beggar – sold for a halfpenny to a parish-clerk, transferred to his parson, and lost for ever to thine owner; nor restored till this very moment that I tell the world the story.

  Can the reader believe, that this sermon was preached in York cathedral before a thousand witnesses, by a certain prebendary of that church, and actually printed by him, only two years after Yorick’s death?* Yorick indeed, was never better served in his life; but it was a little hard to plunder him after he was laid in his grave.

/>   However, as the gentleman who did it was in perfect agreement with Yorick, and printed copies to give away; – I do not tell this anecdote to hurt his character and advancement in the church; but find myself impelled by two reasons.

  The first is, that I may give rest to Yorick’s ghost; which the country-people believe still walks.

  The second reason is, that by telling this story to the world, I can inform it that if this sample of Yorick’s sermons is liked, there are many more such sermons in the possession of the Shandy family, enough to make a handsome volume, at the world’s service.

  * Abridger’s note: The Prebendary of York being one Laurence Sterne, who preached the sermon there in 1750.

  CHAPTER 18

  Obadiah came in jingling, with all the instruments in the green baize bag we spoke of, slung across his body, just as Corporal Trim went out.

  ‘It is now proper, I think,’ quoth Dr. Slop, ‘to send upstairs to know how Mrs. Shandy goes on.’

  ‘I have ordered,’ answered my father, ‘the old midwife to come down to us if there is the least difficulty; for you must know, Dr. Slop,’ he continued, with a perplexed kind of smile, ‘that by a treaty between me and my wife, you are no more than an auxiliary in this affair, – and not even that, unless the midwife upstairs cannot do without you. Women have their fancies, and in these situations they claim a right of deciding in whose hands they shall undergo it.’

  ‘They are right,’ quoth my uncle Toby.

  ‘But, Sir,’ replied Dr. Slop to my father, ignoring my uncle, ‘the father of a family, who wishes its perpetuity, in my opinion, had better insist on this prerogative, and give up some other rights instead.’

  ‘I know not,’ quoth my father testily, ‘what we have left to give up, in lieu of who shall bring our children into the world, unless the right of who shall beget them.’

  ‘Sir,’ replied Dr. Slop, ‘it would astonish you to know what improvements we have made of late years in all branches of obstetrical knowledge, but particularly in that the safe and expeditious extraction of the foetus, which has received such lights, that for my part I wonder how the world has–’