——BUT before the Corporal begins, I must first give you a description
of his attitude;——otherwise he will naturally stand represented, by
your imagination, in an uneasy posture,—stiff,—perpendicular,—dividing
the weight of his body equally upon both legs;——his eye fixed, as if on
duty;—his look determined,—clenching the sermon in his left hand, like
his firelock.——In a word, you would be apt to paint _Trim_, as if he
was standing in his platoon ready for action,—His attitude was as
unlike all this as you can conceive.
He stood before them with his body swayed, and bent forwards just so
far, as to make an angle of 85 degrees and a half upon the plain of the
horizon;—which sound orators, to whom I address this, know very well to
be the true persuasive angle of incidence;—in any other angle you may
talk and preach;—’tis certain;—and it is done every day;—but with what
effect,—I leave the world to judge!
The necessity of this precise angle of 85 degrees and a half to a
mathematical exactness,——does it not shew us, by the way, how the arts
and sciences mutually befriend each other?
How the duce Corporal _Trim_, who knew not so much as an acute angle
from an obtuse one, came to hit it so exactly;——or whether it was
chance or nature, or good sense or imitation, &c. shall be commented
upon in that part of the cyclopædia of arts and sciences, where the
instrumental parts of the eloquence of the senate, the pulpit, and the
bar, the coffee-house, the bed-chamber, and fire-side, fall under
consideration.
He stood,——for I repeat it, to take the picture of him in at one view,
with his body swayed, and somewhat bent forwards,—his right leg from
under him, sustaining seven-eighths of his whole weight,——the foot of
his left leg, the defect of which was no disadvantage to his attitude,
advanced a little,—not laterally, nor forwards, but in a line betwixt
them;—his knee bent, but that not violently,—but so as to fall within
the limits of the line of beauty;—and I add, of the line of science
too;—for consider, it had one eighth part of his body to bear up;—so
that in this case the position of the leg is determined,—because the
foot could be no farther advanced, or the knee more bent, than what
would allow him, mechanically to receive an eighth part of his whole
weight under it, and to carry it too.
=> This I recommend to painters;—need I add,—to orators!—I think not;
for unless they practise it,——they must fall upon their noses.
So much for Corporal _Trim_’s body and legs.——He held the sermon
loosely, not carelessly, in his left hand, raised something above his
stomach, and detached a little from his breast;——his right arm falling
negligently by his side, as nature and the laws of gravity ordered
it,——but with the palm of it open and turned towards his audience,
ready to aid the sentiment in case it stood in need.
Corporal _Trim_’s eyes and the muscles of his face were in full harmony
with the other parts of him;—he looked frank,—unconstrained,—something
assured,—but not bordering upon assurance.
Let not the critic ask how Corporal _Trim_ could come by all
this.——I’ve told him it should be explained;—but so he stood before my
father, my uncle _Toby_, and Dr. _Slop_,—so swayed his body, so
contrasted his limbs, and with such an oratorical sweep throughout the
whole figure,——a statuary might have modelled from it;——nay, I doubt
whether the oldest Fellow of a College,—or the _Hebrew_ Professor
himself, could have much mended it.
_Trim_ made a bow, and read as follows:
The S E R M O N.
HEBREWS xiii. 18.
———_For we_ trust _we have a
good Conscience._
“TRUST!——Trust we have a good conscience!”
[Certainly, _Trim_, quoth my father, interrupting him, you give that
sentence a very improper accent; for you curl up your nose, man, and
read it with such a sneering tone, as if the Parson was going to abuse
the Apostle.
He is, an’ please your Honour, replied _Trim._ Pugh! said my father,
smiling.
Sir, quoth Dr. _Slop, Trim_ is certainly in the right; for the writer
(who I perceive is a Protestant) by the snappish manner in which he
takes up the apostle, is certainly going to abuse him;—if this
treatment of him has not done it already. But from whence, replied my
father, have you concluded so soon, Dr. _Slop_, that the writer is of
our church?—for aught I can see yet,—he may be of any church.——Because,
answered Dr. _Slop_, if he was of ours,—he durst no more take such a
licence,—than a bear by his beard:—If, in our communion, Sir, a man was
to insult an apostle,——a saint,——or even the paring of a saint’s
nail,—he would have his eyes scratched out.—What, by the saint? quoth
my uncle _Toby._ No, replied Dr. _Slop_, he would have an old house
over his head. Pray is the Inquisition an ancient building, answered my
uncle _Toby_, or is it a modern one?—I know nothing of architecture,
replied Dr. _Slop._—An’ please your Honours, quoth _Trim_, the
Inquisition is the vilest——Prithee spare thy description, _Trim_, I
hate the very name of it, said my father.—No matter for that, answered
Dr. _Slop_,—it has its uses; for tho’ I’m no great advocate for it,
yet, in such a case as this, he would soon be taught better manners;
and I can tell him, if he went on at that rate, would be flung into the
Inquisition for his pains. God help him then, quoth my uncle _Toby._
Amen, added _Trim_; for Heaven above knows, I have a poor brother who
has been fourteen years a captive in it.—I never heard one word of it
before, said my uncle _Toby_, hastily:—How came he there, _Trim_?——O,
Sir, the story will make your heart bleed,—as it has made mine a
thousand times;—but it is too long to be told now;—your Honour shall
hear it from first to last some day when I am working beside you in our
fortifications;—but the short of the story is this;—That my brother
_Tom_ went over a servant to _Lisbon_,—and then married a Jew’s widow,
who kept a small shop, and sold sausages, which somehow or other, was
the cause of his being taken in the middle of the night out of his bed,
where he was lying with his wife and two small children, and carried
directly to the Inquisition, where, God help him, continued _Trim_,
fetching a sigh from the bottom of his heart,—the poor honest lad lies
confined at this hour; he was as honest a soul, added _Trim_, (pulling
out his handkerchief) as ever blood warmed.——
—The tears trickled down _Trim_’s cheeks faster than he could well wipe
them away.—A dead silence in the room ensued for some minutes.—Certain
proof of pity!
Come _Trim_, quoth my father, after he saw the poor fellow’s grief had
got a little vent,—read on,—and put this melancholy story out of thy
head:—I grieve that I interrupted thee; but prithee begin the sermon
again;—for if the first sentence in it is matter of abuse, as thou
sayest, I have a great desire to know what kind of provocation the
apostle has given.
Corporal _Trim_ wiped his face, and returned his handkerchief into his
pocket, and, making a bow as he did it,—he began again.]
The S E R M O N.
HEBREWS xiii. 18.
——_For we_ trust _we have a good
Conscience.—_
“TRUST! trust we have a good conscience! Surely if there is any thing
in this life which a man may depend upon, and to the knowledge of which
he is capable of arriving upon the most indisputable evidence, it must
be this very thing,—whether he has a good conscience or no.”
[I am positive I am right, quoth Dr. _Slop._]
“If a man thinks at all, he cannot well be a stranger to the true state
of this account:——he must be privy to his own thoughts and desires;—he
must remember his past pursuits, and know “certainly the true springs
and motives, which, in general, have governed the actions of his life.”
[I defy him, without an assistant, quoth Dr. _Slop._]
“In other matters we may be deceived by false appearances; and, as the
wise man complains, _hardly do we guess aright at the things that are
upon the earth, and with labour do we find the things that are before
us._ But here the mind has all the evidence and facts within
herself;——is conscious of the web she has wove;——knows its texture and
fineness, and the exact share which every passion has had in working
upon the several designs which virtue or vice has planned before her.”
[The language is good, and I declare _Trim_ reads very well, quoth my
father.]
“Now,—as conscience is nothing else but the knowledge which the mind
has within herself of this; and the judgment, either of approbation or
censure, which it unavoidably makes upon the successive actions of our
lives; ’tis plain you will say, from the very terms of the
proposition,—whenever this inward testimony goes against a man, and he
stands self-accused, that he must necessarily be a guilty man.—And, on
the contrary, when the report is favourable on his side, and his heart
condemns him not:—that it is not a matter of trust, as the apostle
intimates, but a matter of certainty and fact, that the conscience is
good, and that the man must be good also.”
[Then the apostle is altogether in the wrong, I suppose, quoth Dr.
_Slop_, and the Protestant divine is in the right. Sir, have patience,
replied my father, for I think it will presently appear that St. _Paul_
and the Protestant divine are both of an opinion.—As nearly so, quoth
Dr. _Slop_, as east is to west;—but this, continued he, lifting both
hands, comes from the liberty of the press.
It is no more at the worst, replied my uncle _Toby_, than the liberty
of the pulpit; for it does not appear that the sermon is printed, or
ever likely to be.