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Life and Opinions of Tristram Shandy, Gentleman, The, Vol. 3

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<h2>Chapter 3.LX.</h2> The ancient Goths of Germany, who (the learned Cluverius is positive) were first seated in the country between the Vistula and the Oder, and who afterwards incorporated the Herculi, the Bugians, and some other Vandallick clans to 'em—had all of them a wise custom of debating every thing of importance to their state, twice, that is,—once drunk, and once sober:—Drunk—that their councils might not want vigour;—and sober—that they might not want discretion. Now my father being entirely a water-drinker,—was a long time gravelled almost to death, in turning this as much to his advantage, as he did every other thing which the ancients did or said; and it was not till the seventh year of his marriage, after a thousand fruitless experiments and devices, that he hit upon an expedient which answered the purpose;—and that was, when any difficult and momentous point was to be settled in the family, which required great sobriety, and great spirit too, in its determination,—he fixed and set apart the first Sunday night in the month, and the Saturday night which immediately preceded it, to argue it over, in bed with my mother: By which contrivance, if you consider, Sir, with yourself,.. .. These my father, humorously enough, called his beds of justice;—for from the two different counsels taken in these two different humours, a middle one was generally found out which touched the point of wisdom as well, as if he had got drunk and sober a hundred times. I must not be made a secret of to the world, that this answers full as well in literary discussions, as either in military or conjugal; but it is not every author that can try the experiment as the Goths and Vandals did it—or, if he can, may it be always for his body's health; and to do it, as my father did it,—am I sure it would be always for his soul's. My way is this:— In all nice and ticklish discussions,—(of which, heaven knows, there are but too many in my book)—where I find I cannot take a step without the danger of having either their worships or their reverences upon my back—I write one-half full,—and t'other fasting;—or write it all full,—and correct it fasting;—or write it fasting,—and correct it full, for they all come to the same thing:—So that with a less variation from my father's plan, than my father's from the Gothick—I feel myself upon a par with him in his first bed of justice,—and no way inferior to him in his second.—These different and almost irreconcileable effects, flow uniformly from the wise and wonderful mechanism of nature,—of which,—be her's the honour.—All that we can do, is to turn and work the machine to the improvement and better manufactory of the arts and sciences.— Now, when I write full,—I write as if I was never to write fasting again as long as I live;—that is, I write free from the cares as well as the terrors of the world.—I count not the number of my scars,—nor does my fancy go forth into dark entries and bye-corners to ante-date my stabs.—In a word, my pen takes its course; and I write on as much from the fulness of my heart, as my stomach.— But when, an' please your honours, I indite fasting, 'tis a different history.—I pay the world all possible attention and respect,—and have as great a share (whilst it lasts) of that under strapping virtue of discretion as the best of you.—So that betwixt both, I write a careless kind of a civil, nonsensical, good-humoured Shandean book, which will do all your hearts good— —And all your heads too,—provided you understand it. <h2>Chapter 3.LXI.</h2> We should begin, said my father, turning himself half round in bed, and shifting his pillow a little towards my mother's, as he opened the debate—We should begin to think, Mrs. Shandy, of putting this boy into breeches.— We should so,—said my mother.—We defer it, my dear, quoth my father, shamefully.— I think we do, Mr. Shandy,—said my mother. —Not but the child looks extremely well, said my father, in his vests and tunicks.— —He does look very well in them,—replied my mother.— —And for that reason it would be almost a sin, added my father, to take him out of 'em.— —It would so,—said my mother:—But indeed he is growing a very tall lad,—rejoined my father. —He is very tall for his age, indeed,—said my mother.— —I can not (making two syllables of it) imagine, quoth my father, who the deuce he takes after.— I cannot conceive, for my life, said my mother.— Humph!—said my father. (The dialogue ceased for a moment.) —I am very short myself,—continued my father gravely. You are very short, Mr. Shandy,—said my mother. Humph! quoth my father to himself, a second time: in muttering which, he plucked his pillow a little further from my mother's,—and turning about again, there was an end of the debate for three minutes and a half. —When he gets these breeches made, cried my father in a higher tone, he'll look like a beast in 'em. He will be very awkward in them at first, replied my mother. —And 'twill be lucky, if that's the worst on't, added my father. It will be very lucky, answered my mother. I suppose, replied my father,—making some pause first,—he'll be exactly like other people's children.— Exactly, said my mother.— —Though I shall be sorry for that, added my father: and so the debate stopp'd again.— —They should be of leather, said my father, turning him about again.— They will last him, said my mother, the longest. But he can have no linings to 'em, replied my father.— He cannot, said my mother. 'Twere better to have them of fustian, quoth my father. Nothing can be better, quoth my mother.— —Except dimity,—replied my father:—'Tis best of all,—replied my mother. —One must not give him his death, however,—interrupted my father. By no means, said my mother:—and so the dialogue stood still again. I am resolved, however, quoth my father, breaking silence the fourth time, he shall have no pockets in them.— —There is no occasion for any, said my mother.— I mean in his coat and waistcoat,—cried my father. —I mean so too,—replied my mother. —Though if he gets a gig or top—Poor souls! it is a crown and a sceptre to them,—they should have where to secure it.— Order it as you please, Mr. Shandy, replied my mother.— —But don't you think it right? added my father, pressing the point home to her. Perfectly, said my mother, if it pleases you, Mr. Shandy.— —There's for you! cried my father, losing his temper—Pleases me!—You never will distinguish, Mrs. Shandy, nor shall I ever teach you to do it, betwixt a point of pleasure and a point of convenience.—This was on the Sunday night:—and further this chapter sayeth not. <h2>Chapter 3.LXII.</h2> After my father had debated the affair of the breeches with my mother,—he consulted Albertus Rubenius upon it; and Albertus Rubenius used my father ten times worse in the consultation (if possible) than even my father had used my mother: For as Rubenius had wrote a quarto express, De re Vestiaria Veterum,—it was Rubenius's business to have given my father some lights.—On the contrary, my father might as well have thought of extracting the seven cardinal virtues out of a long beard,—as of extracting a single word out of Rubenius upon the subject. Upon every other article of ancient dress, Rubenius was very communicative to my father;—gave him a full satisfactory account of The Toga, or loose gown. The Chlamys. The Ephod. The Tunica, or Jacket. The Synthesis. The Paenula. The Lacema, with its Cucullus. The Paludamentum. The Praetexta. The Sagum, or soldier's jerkin. The Trabea: of which, according to Suetonius, there was three kinds.— —But what are all these to the breeches? said my father. Rubenius threw him down upon the counter all kinds of shoes which had been in fashion with the Romans.— There was, The open shoe. The close shoe. The slip shoe. The wooden shoe. The soc. The buskin. And The military shoe with hobnails in it, which Juvenal takes notice of. There were, The clogs. The pattins. The pantoufles. The brogues. The sandals, with latchets to them. There was, The felt shoe. The linen shoe. The laced shoe. The braided shoe. The calceus incisus. And The calceus rostratus. Rubenius shewed my father how well they all fitted,—in what manner they laced on,—with what points, straps, thongs, latchets, ribbands, jaggs, and ends.— —But I want to be informed about the breeches, said my father. Albertus Rubenius informed my father that the Romans manufactured stuffs of various fabrics,—some plain,—some striped,—others diapered throughout the whole contexture of the wool, with silk and gold—That linen did not begin to be in common use till towards the declension of the empire, when the Egyptians coming to settle amongst them, brought it into vogue. —That persons of quality and fortune distinguished themselves by the fineness and whiteness of their clothes; which colour (next to purple, which was appropriated to the great offices) they most affected, and wore on their birth-days and public rejoicings.—That it appeared from the best historians of those times, that they frequently sent their clothes to the fuller, to be clean'd and whitened:—but that the inferior people, to avoid that expence, generally wore brown clothes, and of a something coarser texture,—till towards the beginning of Augustus's reign, when the slave dressed like his master, and almost every distinction of habiliment was lost, but the Latus Clavus. And what was the Latus Clavus? said my father. Rubenius told him, that the point was still litigating amongst the learned:—That Egnatius, Sigonius, Bossius Ticinensis, Bayfius Budaeus, Salmasius, Lipsius, Lazius, Isaac Casaubon, and Joseph Scaliger, all differed from each other,—and he from them: That some took it to be the button,—some the coat itself,—others only the colour of it;—That the great Bayfuis in his Wardrobe of the Ancients, chap. 12—honestly said, he knew not what it was,—whether a tibula,—a stud,—a button,—a loop,—a buckle,—or clasps and keepers.— —My father lost the horse, but not the saddle—They are hooks and eyes, said my father—and with hooks and eyes he ordered my breeches to be made. <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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