WHEN my uncle _Toby_ got his map of _Namur_ to his mind, he began
immediately to apply himself, and with the utmost diligence, to the
study of it; for nothing being of more importance to him than his
recovery, and his recovery depending, as you have read, upon the
passions and affections of his mind, it behoved him to take the nicest
care to make himself so far master of his subject, as to be able to
talk upon it without emotion.
In a fortnight’s close and painful application, which, by the bye, did
my uncle _Toby_’s wound, upon his groin, no good,—he was enabled, by
the help of some marginal documents at the feet of the elephant,
together with _Gobesius_’s military architecture and pyroballogy,
translated from the _Flemish_, to form his discourse with passable
perspicuity; and before he was two full months gone,—he was right
eloquent upon it, and could make not only the attack of the advanced
counterscarp with great order;—but having, by that time, gone much
deeper into the art, than what his first motive made necessary, my
uncle _Toby_ was able to cross the _Maes_ and _Sambre_; make diversions
as far as _Vauban_’s line, the abbey of _Salsines_, &c. and give his
visitors as distinct a history of each of their attacks, as of that of
the gate of _St. Nicolas_, where he had the honour to receive his
wound.
But desire of knowledge, like the thirst of riches, increases ever with
the acquisition of it. The more my uncle _Toby_ pored over his map, the
more he took a liking to it!—by the same process and electrical
assimilation, as I told you, through which I ween the souls of
connoisseurs themselves, by long friction and incumbition, have the
happiness, at length, to get all
be-virtu’d—be-pictured,—be-butterflied, and be-fiddled.
The more my uncle _Toby_ drank of this sweet fountain of science, the
greater was the heat and impatience of his thirst, so that before the
first year of his confinement had well gone round, there was scarce a
fortified town in _Italy_ or _Flanders_, of which, by one means or
other, he had not procured a plan, reading over as he got them, and
carefully collating therewith the histories of their sieges, their
demolitions, their improvements, and new works, all which he would read
with that intense application and delight, that he would forget
himself, his wound, his confinement, his dinner.
In the second year my uncle _Toby_ purchased _Ramelli_ and _Cataneo_,
translated from the _Italian_;—likewise _Stevinus, Moralis_, the
Chevalier _de Ville, Lorini, Cochorn, Sheeter_, the Count _de Pagan_,
the Marshal _Vauban_, Mons. _Blondel_, with almost as many more books
of military architecture, as Don _Quixote_ was found to have of
chivalry, when the curate and barber invaded his library.
Towards the beginning of the third year, which was in _August_,
ninety-nine, my uncle _Toby_ found it necessary to understand a little
of projectiles:—and having judged it best to draw his knowledge from
the fountain-head, he began with _N. Tartaglia_, who it seems was the
first man who detected the imposition of a cannon-ball’s doing all that
mischief under the notion of a right line—This _N. Tartaglia_ proved to
my uncle _Toby_ to be an impossible thing.
——Endless is the search of Truth.
No sooner was my uncle _Toby_ satisfied which road the cannon-ball did
not go, but he was insensibly led on, and resolved in his mind to
enquire and find out which road the ball did go: For which purpose he
was obliged to set off afresh with old _Maltus_, and studied him
devoutly.—He proceeded next to _Galileo_ and _Torricellius_, wherein,
by certain Geometrical rules, infallibly laid down, he found the
precise path to be a PARABOLA—or else an HYPERBOLA,—and that the
parameter, or _latus rectum_, of the conic section of the said path,
was to the quantity and amplitude in a direct _ratio_, as the whole
line to the sine of double the angle of incidence, formed by the breech
upon an horizontal plane;—and that the semiparameter,——stop! my dear
uncle _Toby_——stop!—go not one foot farther into this thorny and
bewildered track,—intricate are the steps! intricate are the mazes of
this labyrinth! intricate are the troubles which the pursuit of this
bewitching phantom KNOWLEDGE will bring upon thee.—O my
uncle;—fly—fly,—fly from it as from a serpent.——Is it fit——goodnatured
man! thou should’st sit up, with the wound upon thy groin, whole nights
baking thy blood with hectic watchings?——Alas! ’twill exasperate thy
symptoms,—check thy perspirations—evaporate thy spirits—waste thy
animal strength, dry up thy radical moisture, bring thee into a costive
habit of body,——impair thy health,——and hasten all the infirmities of
thy old age.—O my uncle! my uncle _Toby._