I had not gone above two leagues and a half, before the man with his gun
began to look at his priming.
I had three several times loiter’d _terribly_ behind; half a mile at
least every time; once, in deep conference with a drum-maker, who was
making drums for the fairs of _Baucaira_ and _Tarascone_ --I did not
understand the principles----
The second time, I cannot so properly say, I stopp’d----for meeting a
couple of _Franciscans_ straitened more for time than myself, and not
being able to get to the bottom of what I was about ----I had turn’d back
with them----
The third, was an affair of trade with a gossip, for a hand-basket of
_Provence_ figs for four sous; this would have been transacted at once;
but for a case of conscience at the close of it; for when the figs were
paid for, it turn’d out, that there were two dozen of eggs cover’d over
with vine-leaves at the bottom of the basket--as I had no intention of
buying eggs --I made no sort of claim of them--as for the space they had
occupied--what signified it? I had figs enow for my money----
--But it was my intention to have the basket--it was the gossip’s
intention to keep it, without which, she could do nothing with her
eggs----and unless I had the basket, I could do as little with my figs,
which were too ripe already, and most of ’em burst at the side: this
brought on a short contention, which terminated in sundry proposals,
what we should both do----
----How we disposed of our eggs and figs, I defy you, or the Devil
himself, had he not been there (which I am persuaded he was), to form
the least probable conjecture: You will read the whole of it------not
this year, for I am hastening to the story of my uncle _Toby’s_
amours--but you will read it in the collection of those which have arose
out of the journey across this plain--and which, therefore, I call my
PLAIN STORIES.
How far my pen has been fatigued, like those of other travellers, in
this journey of it, over so barren a track--the world must judge--but
the traces of it, which are now all set o’ vibrating together this
moment, tell me ’tis the most fruitful and busy period of my life; for
as I had made no convention with my man with the gun, as to time--by
stopping and talking to every soul I met, who was not in a full
trot--joining all parties before me--waiting for every soul
behind--hailing all those who were coming through cross-roads--arresting
all kinds of beggars, pilgrims, fiddlers, friars----not passing by a
woman in a mulberry-tree without commending her legs, and tempting her
into conversation with a pinch of snuff ------In short, by seizing every
handle, of what size or shape soever, which chance held out to me in
this journey --I turned my _plain_ into a _city_ --I was always in
company, and with great variety too; and as my mule loved society as
much as myself, and had some proposals always on his part to offer to
every beast he met --I am confident we could have passed through
_Pall-Mall_, or St. _James’s_-Street for a month together, with fewer
adventures--and seen less of human nature.
O! there is that sprightly frankness, which at once unpins every plait
of a _Languedocian’s_ dress--that whatever is beneath it, it looks so
like the simplicity which poets sing of in better days --I will delude
my fancy, and believe it is so.
’Twas in the road betwixt _Nismes_ and _Lunel_, where there is the best
_Muscatto_ wine in all _France_, and which by the bye belongs to the
honest canons of MONTPELLIER--and foul befal the man who has drank it at
their table, who grudges them a drop of it.
----The sun was set--they had done their work; the nymphs had tied up
their hair afresh--and the swains were preparing for a carousal----my
mule made a dead point----’Tis the fife and tabourin, said I ----I’m
frighten’d to death, quoth he ----They are running at the ring of
pleasure, said I, giving him a prick ----By saint _Boogar_, and all the
saints at the backside of the door of purgatory, said he--(making the
same resolution with the abbesse of _Andoüillets_) I’ll not go a step
further------’Tis very well, sir, said I ----I never will argue a point
with one of your family, as long as I live; so leaping off his back, and
kicking off one boot into this ditch, and t’other into that --I’ll take
a dance, said I--so stay you here.
A sun-burnt daughter of Labour rose up from the groupe to meet me, as I
advanced towards them; her hair, which was a dark chesnut approaching
rather to a black, was tied up in a knot, all but a single tress.
We want a cavalier, said she, holding out both her hands, as if to offer
them --And a cavalier ye shall have; said I, taking hold of both of them.
Hadst thou, _Nannette_, been array’d like a dutchesse!
----But that cursed slit in thy petticoat!
_Nannette_ cared not for it.
We could not have done without you, said she, letting go one hand, with
self-taught politeness, leading me up with the other.
A lame youth, whom _Apollo_ had recompensed with a pipe, and to which he
had added a tabourin of his own accord, ran sweetly over the prelude, as
he sat upon the bank ----Tie me up this tress instantly, said _Nannette_,
putting a piece of string into my hand --It taught me to forget I was a
stranger ----The whole knot fell down ----We had been seven years
acquainted.
The youth struck the note upon the tabourin--his pipe followed, and off
we bounded---- “the duce take that slit!”
The sister of the youth, who had stolen her voice from heaven, sung
alternately with her brother----’twas a _Gascoigne_ roundelay.
VIVA LA JOIA!
FIDON LA TRISTESSA!
The nymphs join’d in unison, and their swains an octave below them----
I would have given a crown to have it sew’d up--_Nannette_ would not
have given a SOUS--_Viva la joia!_ was in her lips--_Viva la joia!_ was
in her eyes. A transient spark of amity shot across the space betwixt
us ----She look’d amiable! ----Why could I not live, and end my days
thus? Just Disposer of our joys and sorrows, cried I, why could not a
man sit down in the lap of content here----and dance, and sing, and say
his prayers, and go to heaven with this nut-brown maid? Capriciously did
she bend her head on one side, and dance up insidious ----Then ’tis time
to dance off, quoth I; so changing only partners and tunes, I danced it
away from _Lunel_ to _Montpellier_----from thence to _Pesçnas_,
_Beziers_ ----I danced it along through _Narbonne_, _Carcasson_, and
_Castle Naudairy_, till at last I danced myself into _Perdrillo’s_
pavillion, where pulling out a paper of black lines, that I might go on
straight forwards, without digression or parenthesis, in my uncle
_Toby’s_ amours----
I begun thus----
BOOK VIII
CHAPTER I
----But softly----for in these sportive plains, and under this genial
sun, where at this instant all flesh is running out piping, fiddling,
and dancing to the vintage, and every step that’s taken, the judgment is
surprised by the imagination, I defy, notwithstanding all that has been
said upon _straight lines_[8.1] in sundry pages of my book --I defy the
best cabbage planter that ever existed, whether he plants backwards or
forwards, it makes little difference in the account (except that he will
have more to answer for in the one case than in the other) --I defy him
to go on coolly, critically, and canonically, planting his cabbages one
by one, in straight lines, and stoical distances, especially if slits in
petticoats are unsew’d up--without ever and anon straddling out, or
sidling into some bastardly digression ----In _Freeze-land_, _Fog-land_,
and some other lands I wot of--it may be done----
But in this clear climate of fantasy and perspiration, where every idea,
sensible and insensible, gets vent--in this land, my dear _Eugenius_--in
this fertile land of chivalry and romance, where I now sit, unskrewing
my ink-horn to write my uncle _Toby’s_ amours, and with all the meanders
of JULIA’S track in quest of her DIEGO, in full view of my study
window--if thou comest not and takest me by the hand----
What a work it is likely to turn out!
Let us begin it.
[Footnote 8.1: Vid. pp. 347-348.] [[Book VI, Chapter XL]]
CHAPTER II
It is with LOVE as with CUCKOLDOM----
But now I am talking of beginning a book, and have long had a thing upon
my mind to be imparted to the reader, which, if not imparted now, can
never be imparted to him as long as I live (whereas the COMPARISON may
be imparted to him any hour in the day) ----I’ll just mention it, and
begin in good earnest.
The thing is this.
That of all the several ways of beginning a book which are now in
practice throughout the known world, I am confident my own way of doing
it is the best ----I’m sure it is the most religious----for I begin with
writing the first sentence----and trusting to Almighty God for the
second.
’Twould cure an author for ever of the fuss and folly of opening his
street-door, and calling in his neighbours and friends, and kinsfolk,
with the devil and all his imps, with their hammers and engines, &c.,
only to observe how one sentence of mine follows another, and how the
plan follows the whole.
I wish you saw me half starting out of my chair, with what confidence,
as I grasp the elbow of it, I look up----catching the idea, even
sometimes before it half way reaches me----
I believe in my conscience I intercept many a thought which heaven
intended for another man.
_Pope_ and his Portrait[8.2] are fools to me----no martyr is ever so
full of faith or fire ----I wish I could say of good works too----but I
have no
Zeal or Anger----or
Anger or Zeal----
And till gods and men agree together to call it by the same name----the
errantest TARTUFFE, in science--in politics--or in religion, shall never
kindle a spark within me, or have a worse word, or a more unkind
greeting, than what he will read in the next chapter.
[Footnote 8.2: Vid. _Pope’s_ Portrait.]
CHAPTER III
----Bonjour! ----good morrow! ----so you have got your cloak on betimes!
----but ’tis a cold morning, and you judge the matter rightly----’tis
better to be well mounted, than go o’ foot----and obstructions in the
glands are dangerous ----And how goes it with thy concubine--thy wife,
--and thy little ones o’ both sides? and when did you hear from the old
gentleman and lady--your sister, aunt, uncle, and cousins ----I hope they
have got better of their colds, coughs, claps, toothaches, fevers,
stranguries, sciaticas, swellings, and sore eyes.
----What a devil of an apothecary! to take so much blood--give such a
vile purge--puke--poultice--plaister--night-draught--clyster--blister?
----And why so many grains of calomel? santa Maria! and such a dose of
opium! periclitating, pardi! the whole family of ye, from head to
tail ----By my great-aunt _Dinah’s_ old black velvet mask! I think there
was no occasion for it.
Now this being a little bald about the chin, by frequently putting off
and on, _before_ she was got with child by the coachman--not one of our
family would wear it after. To cover the MASK afresh, was more than the
mask was worth----and to wear a mask which was bald, or which could be
half seen through, was as bad as having no mask at all----
This is the reason, may it please your reverences, that in all our
numerous family, for these four generations, we count no more than one
archbishop, a _Welch_ judge, some three or four aldermen, and a single
mountebank----
In the sixteenth century, we boast of no less than a dozen alchymists.
CHAPTER IV
“It is with Love as with Cuckoldom”----the suffering party is at least
the _third_, but generally the last in the house who knows anything
about the matter: this comes, as all the world knows, from having half a
dozen words for one thing; and so long, as what in this vessel of the
human frame, is _Love_--may be _Hatred_, in that----_Sentiment_ half a
yard higher----and _Nonsense_----------no, Madam, --not there ----I mean
at the part I am now pointing to with my forefinger----how can we help
ourselves?
Of all mortal, and immortal men too, if you please, who ever
soliloquized upon this mystic subject, my uncle _Toby_ was the worst
fitted, to have push’d his researches, thro’ such a contention of
feelings; and he had infallibly let them all run on, as we do worse
matters, to see what they would turn out----had not _Bridget’s_
pre-notification of them to _Susannah_, and _Susannah’s_ repeated
manifestoes thereupon to all the world, made it necessary for my uncle
_Toby_ to look into the affair.
CHAPTER V
Why weavers, gardeners, and gladiators--or a man with a pined leg
(proceeding from some ailment in the _foot_)--should ever have had some
tender nymph breaking her heart in secret for them, are points well and
duly settled and accounted for by ancient and modern physiologists.
A water-drinker, provided he is a profess’d one, and does it without
fraud or covin, is precisely in the same predicament: not that, at first
sight, there is any consequence, or show of logic in it, “That a rill of
cold water dribbling through my inward parts, should light up a torch in
my _Jenny’s_--”
----The proposition does not strike one; on the contrary, it seems to
run opposite to the natural workings of causes and effects----
But it shews the weakness and imbecility of human reason.
----“And in perfect good health with it?”
--The most perfect, --Madam, that friendship herself could wish me----
“And drink nothing! --nothing but water?”
--Impetuous fluid! the moment thou pressest against the flood-gates of
the brain----see how they give way!----
In swims CURIOSITY, beckoning to her damsels to follow--they dive into
the centre of the current----
FANCY sits musing upon the bank, and with her eyes following the stream,
turns straws and bulrushes into masts and bowsprits ----And DESIRE, with
vest held up to the knee in one hand, snatches at them, as they swim by
her with the other----
O ye water-drinkers! is it then by this delusive fountain, that ye
have so often governed and turn’d this world about like a mill-wheel--
grinding the faces of the impotent--bepowdering their ribs--bepeppering
their noses, and changing sometimes even the very frame and face of
nature----
If I was you, quoth _Yorick_, I would drink more water, _Eugenius_
--And, if I was you, _Yorick_, replied _Eugenius_, so would I.
Which shews they had both read _Longinus_----
For my own part, I am resolved never to read any book but my own, as
long as I live.
CHAPTER VI
I wish my uncle _Toby_ had been a water-drinker; for then the thing had
been accounted for, That the first moment Widow _Wadman_ saw him, she
felt something stirring within her in his favour --Something!
--something.
--Something perhaps more than friendship--less than love--something--no
matter what--no matter where --I would not give a single hair off my
mule’s tail, and be obliged to pluck it off myself (indeed the villain
has not many to spare, and is not a little vicious into the bargain), to
be let by your worships into the secret----
But the truth is, my uncle _Toby_ was not a water-drinker; he drank it
neither pure nor mix’d, or any how, or any where, except fortuitously
upon some advanced posts, where better liquor was not to be had----or
during the time he was under cure; when the surgeon telling him it would
extend the fibres, and bring them sooner into contact----my uncle _Toby_
drank it for quietness sake.
Now as all the world knows, that no effect in nature can be produced
without a cause, and as it is as well known, that my uncle _Toby_ was
neither a weaver--a gardener, or a gladiator----unless as a captain, you
will needs have him one--but then he was only a captain of foot--and
besides, the whole is an equivocation ----There is nothing left for us to
suppose, but that my uncle _Toby’s_ leg----but that will avail us little
in the present hypothesis, unless it had proceeded from some ailment _in
the foot_--whereas his leg was not emaciated from any disorder in his
foot--for my uncle _Toby’s_ leg was not emaciated at all. It was a
little stiff and awkward, from a total disuse of it, for the three years
he lay confined at my father’s house in town; but it was plump and
muscular, and in all other respects as good and promising a leg as the
other.
I declare, I do not recollect any one opinion or passage of my life,
where my understanding was more at a loss to make ends meet, and torture
the chapter I had been writing, to the service of the chapter following
it, than in the present case: one would think I took a pleasure in
running into difficulties of this kind, merely to make fresh experiments
of getting out of ’em ----Inconsiderate soul that thou art! What! are not
the unavoidable distresses with which, as an author and a man, thou art
hemm’d in on every side of thee----are they, _Tristram_, not sufficient,
but thou must entangle thyself still more?
Is it not enough that thou art in debt, and that thou hast ten
cart-loads of thy fifth and sixth volumes[8.3] still--still unsold, and
art almost at thy wit’s ends, how to get them off thy hands?
To this hour art thou not tormented with the vile asthma that thou
gattest in skating against the wind in _Flanders?_ and is it but two
months ago, that in a fit of laughter, on seeing a cardinal make water
like a quirister (with both hands) thou brakest a vessel in thy lungs,
whereby, in two hours, thou lost as many quarts of blood; and hadst thou
lost as much more, did not the faculty tell thee------it would have
amounted to a gallon?------
[Footnote 8.3: Alluding to the first edition.]
CHAPTER VII
----But for heaven’s sake, let us not talk of quarts or gallons----let
us take the story straight before us; it is so nice and intricate a one,
it will scarce bear the transposition of a single tittle; and, somehow
or other, you have got me thrust almost into the middle of it--
--I beg we may take more care.
CHAPTER VIII
My uncle _Toby_ and the corporal had posted down with so much heat and
precipitation, to take possession of the spot of ground we have so often
spoke of, in order to open their campaign as early as the rest of the
allies; that they had forgot one of the most necessary articles of the
whole affair; it was neither a pioneer’s spade, a pickax, or a shovel--
--It was a bed to lie on: so that as _Shandy-Hall_ was at that time
unfurnished; and the little inn where poor _Le Fever_ died, not yet
built; my uncle _Toby_ was constrained to accept of a bed at Mrs.
_Wadman’s_, for a night or two, till corporal _Trim_ (who to the
character of an excellent valet, groom, cook, sempster, surgeon, and
engineer, superadded that of an excellent upholsterer too), with the
help of a carpenter and a couple of taylors, constructed one in my uncle
_Toby’s_ house.
A daughter of _Eve_, for such was widow _Wadman_, and ’tis all the
character I intend to give of her--
--“_That she was a perfect woman_--” had better be fifty leagues off--or
in her warm bed--or playing with a case-knife--or anything you
please--than make a man the object of her attention, when the house and
all the furniture is her own.
There is nothing in it out of doors and in broad day-light, where a
woman has a power, physically speaking, of viewing a man in more lights
than one--but here, for her soul, she can see him in no light without
mixing something of her own goods and chattels along with him----till by
reiterated acts of such combination, he gets foisted into her
inventory----
--And then good night.
But this is not matter of SYSTEM; for I have delivered that above----nor
is it matter of BREVIARY----for I make no man’s creed but my own----nor
matter of FACT----at least that I know of; but ’tis matter copulative
and introductory to what follows.
CHAPTER IX
I do not speak it with regard to the coarseness or cleanness of them--or
the strength of their gussets----but pray do not night-shifts differ
from day-shifts as much in this particular, as in anything else in the
world; That they so far exceed the others in length, that when you are
laid down in them, they fall almost as much below the feet, as the
day-shifts fall short of them?
Widow _Wadman’s_ night-shifts (as was the mode I suppose in King
_William’s_ and Queen _Anne’s_ reigns) were cut however after this
fashion; and if the fashion is changed (for in _Italy_ they are come to
nothing)----so much the worse for the public; they were two _Flemish_
ells and a half in length; so that allowing a moderate woman two ells,
she had half an ell to spare, to do what she would with.
Now from one little indulgence gained after another, in the many bleak
and decemberly nights of a seven years widowhood, things had insensibly
come to this pass, and for the two last years had got establish’d into
one of the ordinances of the bed-chamber --That as soon as Mrs. _Wadman_
was put to bed, and had got her legs stretched down to the bottom of it,
of which she always gave _Bridget_ notice--_Bridget_, with all suitable
decorum, having first open’d the bed-cloaths at the feet, took hold of
the half-ell of cloth we are speaking of, and having gently, and with
both her hands, drawn it downwards to its furthest extension, and then
contracted it again side-long by four or five even plaits, she took a
large corking pin out of her sleeve, and with the point directed towards
her, pinn’d the plaits all fast together a little above the hem; which
done, she tuck’d all in tight at the feet, and wish’d her mistress a
good night.
This was constant, and without any other variation than this; that on
shivering and tempestuous nights, when _Bridget_ untuck’d the feet of
the bed, &c., to do this----she consulted no thermometer but that of her
own passions; and so performed it standing--kneeling--or squatting,
according to the different degrees of faith, hope, and charity, she was
in, and bore towards her mistress that night. In every other respect,
the _etiquette_ was sacred, and might have vied with the most mechanical
one of the most inflexible bed-chamber in _Christendom_.
The first night, as soon as the corporal had conducted my uncle _Toby_
upstairs, which was about ten ----Mrs. _Wadman_ threw herself into her
arm-chair, and crossing her left knee with her right, which formed a
resting-place for her elbow, she reclin’d her cheek upon the palm of her
hand, and leaning forwards ruminated till midnight upon both sides of
the question.
The second night she went to her bureau, and having ordered _Bridget_ to
bring her up a couple of fresh candles and leave them upon the table,
she took out her marriage-settlement, and read it over with great
devotion: and the third night (which was the last of my uncle _Toby’s_
stay) when _Bridget_ had pull’d down the night-shift, and was assaying
to stick in the corking pin----
----With a kick of both heels at once, but at the same time the most
natural kick that could be kick’d in her situation----for supposing * *
* * * * * * * to be the sun in its meridian, it was a north-east
kick----she kick’d the pin out of her fingers----the _etiquette_ which
hung upon it, down----down it fell to the ground, and was shiver’d into
a thousand atoms.
From all which it was plain that widow _Wadman_ was in love with my
uncle _Toby_.
CHAPTER X
My uncle _Toby’s_ head at that time was full of other matters, so that
it was not till the demolition of _Dunkirk_, when all the other
civilities of _Europe_ were settled, that he found leisure to return
this.
This made an armistice (that is, speaking with regard to my uncle
_Toby_--but with respect to Mrs. _Wadman_, a vacancy)--of almost eleven
years. But in all cases of this nature, as it is the second blow, happen
at what distance of time it will, which makes the fray ----I chuse for
that reason to call these the amours of my uncle _Toby_ with Mrs.
_Wadman_, rather than the amours of Mrs. _Wadman_ with my uncle _Toby_.
This is not a distinction without a difference.
It is not like the affair of _an old hat cock’d_----and _a cock’d old
hat_, about which your reverences have so often been at odds with one
another----but there is a difference here in the nature of things----
And let me tell you, gentry, a wide one too.
CHAPTER XI
Now as widow _Wadman_ did love my uncle _Toby_----and my uncle _Toby_
did not love widow _Wadman_, there was nothing for widow _Wadman_ to do,
but to go on and love my uncle _Toby_----or let it alone.
Widow _Wadman_ would do neither the one or the other.
----Gracious heaven! ----but I forget I am a little of her temper
myself; for whenever it so falls out, which it sometimes does about the
equinoxes, that an earthly goddess is so much this, and that, and
t’other, that I cannot eat my breakfast for her----and that she careth
not three halfpence whether I eat my breakfast or no----
----Curse on her! and so I send her to _Tartary_, and from _Tartary_ to
_Terra del Fuogo_, and so on to the devil: in short, there is not an
infernal nitch where I do not take her divinityship and stick it.
But as the heart is tender, and the passions in these tides ebb and flow
ten times in a minute, I instantly bring her back again; and as I do all
things in extremes, I place her in the very centre of the milky-way----
Brightest of stars! thou wilt shed thy influence upon some one------
----The duce take her and her influence too----for at that word I lose
all patience----much good may it do him! ----By all that is hirsute and
gashly! I cry, taking off my furr’d cap, and twisting it round my
finger ----I would not give sixpence for a dozen such!
----But ’tis an excellent cap too (putting it upon my head, and pressing
it close to my ears)--and warm--and soft; especially if you stroke it
the right way--but alas! that will never be my luck----(so here my
philosophy is shipwreck’d again).
----No; I shall never have a finger in the pye (so here I break my
metaphor)----
Crust and Crumb
Inside and out
Top and bottom ----I detest it, I hate it, I repudiate it ----I’m sick
at the sight of it----
’Tis all pepper,
garlick,
staragen,
salt, and
devil’s dung----by the great arch-cook of cooks, who does
nothing, I think, from morning to night, but sit down by the fire-side
and invent inflammatory dishes for us, I would not touch it for the
world----
----_O Tristram! Tristram!_ cried _Jenny_.
_O Jenny! Jenny!_ replied I, and so went on with the twelfth chapter.
CHAPTER XII
----“Not touch it for the world,” did I say----
Lord, how I have heated my imagination with this metaphor!
CHAPTER XIII
Which shows, let your reverences and worships say what you will of it
(for as for _thinking_----all who do think--think pretty much alike both
upon it and other matters) ----Love is certainly, at least alphabetically
speaking, one of the most
A gitating
B ewitching
C onfounded
D evilish affairs of life--the most
E xtravagant
F utilitous
G alligaskinish
H andy-dandyish
I racundulous (there is no K to it) and
L yrical of all human passions: at the same time, the most
M isgiving
N innyhammering
O bstipating
P ragmatical
S tridulous
R idiculous--though by the bye the R should have gone first --But in
short ’tis of such a nature, as my father once told my uncle _Toby_ upon
the close of a long dissertation upon the subject---- “You can scarce,”
said he, “combine two ideas together upon it, brother _Toby_, without an
hypallage” ----What’s that? cried my uncle _Toby_.
The cart before the horse, replied my father----
----And what is he to do there? cried my uncle _Toby_----
Nothing, quoth my father, but to get in----or let it alone.
Now widow _Wadman_, as I told you before, would do neither the one or
the other.
She stood however ready harnessed and caparisoned at all points, to
watch accidents.
CHAPTER XIV
The Fates, who certainly all foreknew of these amours of widow _Wadman_
and my uncle _Toby_, had, from the first creation of matter and motion
(and with more courtesy than they usually do things of this kind),
established such a chain of causes and effects hanging so fast to one
another, that it was scarce possible for my uncle _Toby_ to have dwelt
in any other house in the world, or to have occupied any other garden in
_Christendom_, but the very house and garden which join’d and laid
parallel to Mrs. _Wadman’s_; this, with the advantage of a thickset
arbour in Mrs. _Wadman’s_ garden, but planted in the hedge-row of my
uncle _Toby’s_, put all the occasions into her hands which
Love-militancy wanted; she could observe my uncle _Toby’s_ motions, and
was mistress likewise of his councils of war; and as his unsuspecting
heart had given leave to the corporal, through the mediation of
_Bridget_, to make her a wicker-gate of communication to enlarge her
walks, it enabled her to carry on her approaches to the very door of the
sentry-box; and sometimes out of gratitude, to make an attack, and
endeavour to blow my uncle _Toby_ up in the very sentry-box itself.
CHAPTER XV
It is a great pity----but ’tis certain from every day’s observation of
man, that he may be set on fire like a candle, at either end--provided
there is a sufficient wick standing out; if there is not--there’s an end
of the affair; and if there is--by lighting it at the bottom, as the
flame in that case has the misfortune generally to put out
itself--there’s an end of the affair again.
For my part, could I always have the ordering of it which way I would be
burnt myself--for I cannot bear the thoughts of being burnt like a
beast --I would oblige a housewife constantly to light me at the top; for
then I should burn down decently to the socket; that is, from my head to
my heart, from my heart to my liver, from my liver to my bowels, and so
on by the meseraick veins and arteries, through all the turns and
lateral insertions of the intestines and their tunicles to the blind
gut----
----I beseech you, doctor _Slop_, quoth my uncle _Toby_, interrupting
him as he mentioned the _blind gut_, in a discourse with my father the
night my mother was brought to bed of me ----I beseech you, quoth my
uncle _Toby_, to tell me which is the blind gut; for, old as I am, I vow
I do not know to this day where it lies.
The _blind gut_, answered doctor _Slop_, lies betwixt the _Ilion_ and
_Colon_----
In a man? said my father.
----’Tis precisely the same, cried doctor _Slop_, in a woman.----
That’s more than I know; quoth my father.
CHAPTER XVI
----And so to make sure of both systems, Mrs. _Wadman_ predetermined to
light my uncle _Toby_ neither at this end or that; but, like a
prodigal’s candle, to light him, if possible, at both ends at once.
Now, through all the lumber rooms of military furniture, including both
of horse and foot, from the great arsenal of _Venice_ to the _Tower_ of
_London_ (exclusive), if Mrs. _Wadman_ had been rummaging for seven
years together, and with _Bridget_ to help her, she could not have found
any one _blind_ or _mantelet_ so fit for her purpose, as that which the
expediency of my uncle _Toby’s_ affairs had fix’d up ready to her hands.
I believe I have not told you----but I don’t know----possibly I
have----be it as it will, ’tis one of the number of those many things,
which a man had better do over again, than dispute about it --That
whatever town or fortress the corporal was at work upon, during the
course of their campaign, my uncle _Toby_ always took care, on the
inside of his sentry-box, which was towards his left hand, to have a
plan of the place, fasten’d up with two or three pins at the top, but
loose at the bottom, for the conveniency of holding it up to the eye,
&c. . . . as occasions required; so that when an attack was resolved
upon, Mrs. _Wadman_ had nothing more to do, when she had got advanced to
the door of the sentry-box, but to extend her right hand; and edging in
her left foot at the same movement, to take hold of the map or plan, or
upright, or whatever it was, and with out-stretched neck meeting it half
way, --to advance it towards her; on which my uncle _Toby’s_ passions
were sure to catch fire----for he would instantly take hold of the other
corner of the map in his left hand, and with the end of his pipe in the
other, begin an explanation.
When the attack was advanced to this point; ----the world will naturally
enter into the reasons of Mrs. _Wadman’s_ next stroke of
generalship----which was, to take my uncle _Toby’s_ tobacco-pipe out of
his hand as soon as she possibly could; which, under one pretence or
other, but generally that of pointing more distinctly at some redoubt or
breastwork in the map, she would effect before my uncle _Toby_ (poor
soul!) had well march’d above half a dozen toises with it.
--It obliged my uncle _Toby_ to make use of his forefinger.
The difference it made in the attack was this; That in going upon it, as
in the first case, with the end of her forefinger against the end of my
uncle _Toby’s_ tobacco-pipe, she might have travelled with it, along the
lines, from _Dan_ to _Beersheba_, had my uncle _Toby’s_ lines reach’d so
far, without any effect: For as there was no arterial or vital heat in
the end of the tobacco-pipe, it could excite no sentiment----it could
neither give fire by pulsation----or receive it by sympathy----’twas
nothing but smoke.
Whereas, in following my uncle _Toby’s_ forefinger with hers, close
thro’ all the little turns and indentings of his works--pressing
sometimes against the side of it----then treading upon its nail----then
tripping it up----then touching it here----then there, and so on----it
set something at least in motion.
This, tho’ slight skirmishing, and at a distance from the main body, yet
drew on the rest; for here, the map usually falling with the back of it,
close to the side of the sentry-box, my uncle _Toby_, in the simplicity
of his soul, would lay his hand flat upon it, in order to go on with his
explanation; and Mrs. _Wadman_, by a manœuvre as quick as thought, would
as certainly place her’s close beside it; this at once opened a
communication, large enough for any sentiment to pass or repass, which a
person skill’d in the elementary and practical part of love-making, has
occasion for----
By bringing up her forefinger parallel (as before) to my uncle
_Toby’s_----it unavoidably brought the thumb into action----and the
forefinger and thumb being once engaged, as naturally brought in the
whole hand. Thine, dear uncle _Toby!_ was never now in its right
place ----Mrs. _Wadman_ had it ever to take up, or, with the gentlest
pushings, protrusions, and equivocal compressions, that a hand to be
removed is capable of receiving----to get it press’d a hair breadth of
one side out of her way.
Whilst this was doing, how could she forget to make him sensible, that
it was her leg (and no one’s else) at the bottom of the sentry-box,
which slightly press’d against the calf of his ----So that my uncle
_Toby_ being thus attacked and sore push’d on both his wings----was it a
wonder, if now and then, it put his centre into disorder?----
----The duce take it! said my uncle _Toby_.
CHAPTER XVII
These attacks of Mrs. _Wadman_, you will readily conceive to be of
different kinds; varying from each other, like the attacks which history
is full of, and from the same reasons. A general looker-on would scarce
allow them to be attacks at all----or if he did, would confound them all
together----but I write not to them: it will be time enough to be a
little more exact in my descriptions of them, as I come up to them,
which will not be for some chapters; having nothing more to add in this,
but that in a bundle of original papers and drawings which my father
took care to roll up by themselves, there is a plan of _Bouchain_ in
perfect preservation (and shall be kept so, whilst I have power to
preserve anything), upon the lower corner of which, on the right hand
side, there is still remaining the marks of a snuffy finger and thumb,
which there is all the reason in the world to imagine, were Mrs.
_Wadman’s_; for the opposite side of the margin, which I suppose to have
been my uncle _Toby’s_, is absolutely clean: This seems an authenticated
record of one of these attacks; for there are vestigia of the two
punctures partly grown up, but still visible on the opposite corner of
the map, which are unquestionably the very holes, through which it has
been pricked up in the sentry-box----
By all that is priestly! I value this precious relick, with its
_stigmata_ and _pricks_, more than all the relicks of the _Romish_
church----always excepting, when I am writing upon these matters, the
pricks which entered the flesh of St. _Radagunda_ in the desert, which
in your road from FESSE to CLUNY, the nuns of that name will shew you
for love.
CHAPTER XVIII
I think, an’ please your honour, quoth _Trim_, the fortifications are
quite destroyed----and the bason is upon a level with the mole ----I
think so too; replied my uncle _Toby_ with a sigh half suppress’d----but
step into the parlour, _Trim_, for the stipulation----it lies upon the
table.
It has lain there these six weeks, replied the corporal, till this very
morning that the old woman kindled the fire with it--
----Then, said my uncle _Toby_, there is no further occasion for our
services. The more, an’ please your honour, the pity, said the corporal;
in uttering which he cast his spade into the wheel-barrow, which was
beside him, with an air the most expressive of disconsolation that can
be imagined, and was heavily turning about to look for his pickax, his
pioneer’s shovel, his picquets, and other little military stores, in
order to carry them off the field----when a heigh-ho! from the
sentry-box, which being made of thin slit deal, reverberated the sound
more sorrowfully to his ear, forbad him.
----No; said the corporal to himself, I’ll do it before his honour rises
to-morrow morning; so taking his spade out of the wheel-barrow again,
with a little earth in it, as if to level something at the foot of the
glacis----but with a real intent to approach nearer to his master, in
order to divert him----he loosen’d a sod or two----pared their edges
with his spade, and having given them a gentle blow or two with the back
of it, he sat himself down close by my uncle _Toby’s_ feet, and began as
follows.
CHAPTER XIX
It was a thousand pities----though I believe, an’ please your honour,
I am going to say but a foolish kind of a thing for a soldier----
A soldier, cried my uncle _Toby_, interrupting the corporal, is no more
exempt from saying a foolish thing, _Trim_, than a man of letters ----But
not so often, an’ please your honour, replied the corporal ----My uncle
_Toby_ gave a nod.
It was a thousand pities then, said the corporal, casting his eye upon
_Dunkirk_, and the mole, as _Servius Sulpicius_, in returning out of
_Asia_ (when he sailed from _Ægina_ towards _Megara_), did upon
_Corinth_ and _Pyreus_----
--“It was a thousand pities, an’ please your honour, to destroy these
works----and a thousand pities to have let them stood.”----
----Thou art right, _Trim_, in both cases; said my uncle _Toby_.
----This, continued the corporal, is the reason, that from the beginning
of their demolition to the end ----I have never once whistled, or sung,
or laugh’d, or cry’d, or talk’d of past done deeds, or told your honour
one story good or bad----
----Thou hast many excellencies, _Trim_, said my uncle _Toby_, and I
hold it not the least of them, as thou happenest to be a story-teller,
that of the number thou hast told me, either to amuse me in my painful
hours, or divert me in my grave ones--thou hast seldom told me a bad
one----
----Because, an’ please your honour, except one of a _King of Bohemia
and his seven castles_, --they are all true; for they are about
myself----
I do not like the subject the worse, _Trim_, said my uncle _Toby_, on
that score: But prithee what is this story? thou hast excited my
curiosity.
I’ll tell it your honour, quoth the corporal, directly --Provided, said
my uncle _Toby_, looking earnestly towards _Dunkirk_ and the mole
again----provided it is not a merry one; to such, _Trim_, a man should
ever bring one half of the entertainment along with him; and the
disposition I am in at present would wrong both thee, _Trim_, and thy
story ----It is not a merry one by any means, replied the corporal --Nor
would I have it altogether a grave one, added my uncle _Toby_ ----It is
neither the one nor the other, replied the corporal, but will suit your
honour exactly ----Then I’ll thank thee for it with all my heart, cried
my uncle _Toby_; so prithee begin it, _Trim_.
The corporal made his reverence; and though it is not so easy a matter
as the world imagines, to pull off a lank _Montero_-cap with grace----or
a whit less difficult, in my conceptions, when a man is sitting squat
upon the ground, to make a bow so teeming with respect as the corporal
was wont; yet by suffering the palm of his right hand, which was towards
his master, to slip backwards upon the grass, a little beyond his body,
in order to allow it the greater sweep----and by an unforced
compression, at the same time, of his cap with the thumb and the two
forefingers of his left, by which the diameter of the cap became
reduced, so that it might be said, rather to be insensibly
squeez’d--than pull’d off with a flatus----the corporal acquitted
himself of both in a better manner than the posture of his affairs
promised; and having hemmed twice, to find in what key his story would
best go, and best suit his master’s humour, --he exchanged a single look
of kindness with him, and set off thus.
THE STORY OF THE KING OF BOHEMIA AND HIS SEVEN CASTLES
There was a certain king of Bo - - he------
As the corporal was entering the confines of _Bohemia_, my uncle _Toby_
obliged him to halt for a single moment; he had set out bare-headed,
having, since he pull’d off his _Montero_-cap in the latter end of the
last chapter, left it lying beside him on the ground.
----The eye of Goodness espieth all things----so that before the
corporal had well got through the first five words of his story, had my
uncle _Toby_ twice touch’d his _Montero_-cap with the end of his cane,
interrogatively----as much as to say, Why don’t you put it on, _Trim?_
_Trim_ took it up with the most respectful slowness, and casting a
glance of humiliation as he did it, upon the embroidery of the
fore-part, which being dismally tarnish’d and fray’d moreover in some of
the principal leaves and boldest parts of the pattern, he lay’d it down
again between his two feet, in order to moralise upon the subject.
----’Tis every word of it but too true, cried my uncle _Toby_, that thou
art about to observe----
“_Nothing in this world, Trim, is made to last for ever._”
----But when tokens, dear _Tom_, of thy love and remembrance wear out,
said _Trim_, what shall we say?
There is no occasion, _Trim_, quoth my uncle _Toby_, to say anything
else; and was a man to puzzle his brains till Doom’s day, I believe,
_Trim_, it would be impossible.
The corporal, perceiving my uncle _Toby_ was in the right, and that it
would be in vain for the wit of man to think of extracting a purer moral
from his cap, without further attempting it, he put it on; and passing
his hand across his forehead to rub out a pensive wrinkle, which the
text and the doctrine between them had engender’d, he return’d, with the
same look and tone of voice, to his story of the king of _Bohemia_ and
his seven castles.
THE STORY OF THE KING OF BOHEMIA AND HIS SEVEN CASTLES, CONTINUED
There was a certain king of _Bohemia_, but in whose reign, except his
own, I am not able to inform your honour----
I do not desire it of thee, _Trim_, by any means, cried my uncle _Toby_.
----It was a little before the time, an’ please your honour, when giants
were beginning to leave off breeding: --but in what year of our Lord
that was----
I would not give a halfpenny to know, said my uncle _Toby_.
----Only, an’ please your honour, it makes a story look the better in
the face----
----’Tis thy own, _Trim_, so ornament it after thy own fashion; and take
any date, continued my uncle _Toby_, looking pleasantly upon him--take
any date in the whole world thou chusest, and put it to--thou art
heartily welcome----
The corporal bowed; for of every century, and of every year of that
century, from the first creation of the world down to _Noah’s_ flood;
and from _Noah’s_ flood to the birth of _Abraham_; through all the
pilgrimages of the patriarchs, to the departure of the _Israelites_ out
of _Egypt_----and throughout all the Dynasties, Olympiads, Urbeconditas,
and other memorable epochas of the different nations of the world, down
to the coming of Christ, and from thence to the very moment in which the
corporal was telling his story----had my uncle _Toby_ subjected this
vast empire of time and all its abysses at his feet; but as MODESTY
scarce touches with a finger what LIBERALITY offers her with both hands
open--the corporal contented himself with the very _worst year_ of the
whole bunch; which, to prevent your honours of the Majority and
Minority from tearing the very flesh off your bones in contestation,
‘Whether that year is not always the last cast-year of the last
cast-almanack’ ----I tell you plainly it was; but from a different
reason than you wot of----
----It was the year next him----which being, the year of our Lord
seventeen hundred and twelve, when the Duke of _Ormond_ was playing the
devil in _Flanders_----the corporal took it, and set out with it afresh
on his expedition to _Bohemia_.
THE STORY OF THE KING OF BOHEMIA AND HIS SEVEN CASTLES, CONTINUED
In the year of our Lord one thousand seven hundred and twelve, there
was, an’ please your honour----
----To tell thee truly, _Trim_, quoth my uncle _Toby_, any other date
would have pleased me much better, not only on account of the sad stain
upon our history that year, in marching off our troops, and refusing to
cover the siege of _Quesnoi_, though _Fagel_ was carrying on the works
with such incredible vigour--but likewise on the score, _Trim_, of thy
own story; because if there are--and which, from what thou hast dropt,
I partly suspect to be the fact--if there are giants in it----
There is but one, an’ please your honour----
----’Tis as bad as twenty, replied my uncle _Toby_----thou should’st
have carried him back some seven or eight hundred years out of harm’s
way, both of critics and other people: and therefore I would advise
thee, if ever thou tellest it again----
----If I live, an’ please your honour, but once to get through it,
I will never tell it again, quoth _Trim_, either to man, woman, or
child ----Poo--poo! said my uncle _Toby_--but with accents of such sweet
encouragement did he utter it, that the corporal went on with his story
with more alacrity than ever.
THE STORY OF THE KING OF BOHEMIA AND HIS SEVEN CASTLES, CONTINUED
There was, an’ please your honour, said the corporal, raising his voice
and rubbing the palms of his two hands cheerily together as he begun,
a certain king of _Bohemia_----
----Leave out the date entirely, _Trim_, quoth my uncle _Toby_, leaning
forwards, and laying his hand gently upon the corporal’s shoulder to
temper the interruption--leave it out entirely, _Trim_; a story passes
very well without these niceties, unless one is pretty sure of
’em ----Sure of ’em! said the corporal, shaking his head----
Right; answered my uncle _Toby_, it is not easy, _Trim_, for one, bred
up as thou and I have been to arms, who seldom looks further forward
than to the end of his musket, or backwards beyond his knapsack, to know
much about this matter ----God bless your honour! said the corporal, won
by the _manner_ of my uncle _Toby’s_ reasoning, as much as by the
reasoning itself, he has something else to do; if not on action, or a
march, or upon duty in his garrison--he has his firelock, an’ please
your honour, to furbish--his accoutrements to take care of--his
regimentals to mend--himself to shave and keep clean, so as to appear
always like what he is upon the parade; what business, added the
corporal triumphantly, has a soldier, an’ please your honour, to know
anything at all of _geography?_
----Thou would’st have said _chronology_, _Trim_, said my uncle _Toby_;
for as for geography, ’tis of absolute use to him; he must be acquainted
intimately with every country and its boundaries where his profession
carries him; he should know every town and city, and village and hamlet,
with the canals, the roads, and hollow ways which lead up to them; there
is not a river or a rivulet he passes, _Trim_, but he should be able at
first sight to tell thee what is its name--in what mountains it takes
its rise--what is its course--how far it is navigable--where
fordable--where not; he should know the fertility of every valley, as
well as the hind who ploughs it; and be able to describe, or, if it is
required, to give thee an exact map of all the plains and defiles, the
forts, the acclivities, the woods and morasses, thro’ and by which his
army is to march; he should know their produce, their plants, their
minerals, their waters, their animals, their seasons, their climates,
their heats and cold, their inhabitants, their customs, their language,
their policy, and even their religion.
Is it else to be conceived, corporal, continued my uncle _Toby_, rising
up in his sentry-box, as he began to warm in this part of his
discourse--how _Marlborough_ could have marched his army from the banks
of the _Maes_ to _Belburg_; from _Belburg_ to _Kerpenord_--(here the
corporal could sit no longer) from _Kerpenord_, _Trim_, to _Kalsaken_;
from _Kalsaken_ to _Newdorf_; from _Newdorf_ to _Landenbourg_; from
_Landenbourg_ to _Mildenheim_; from _Mildenheim_ to _Elchingen_; from
_Elchingen_ to _Gingen_; from _Gingen_ to _Balmerchoffen_; from
_Balmerchoffen_ to _Skellenburg_, where he broke in upon the enemy’s
works; forced his passage over the _Danube_; cross’d the _Lech_--push’d
on his troops into the heart of the empire, marching at the head of them
through _Fribourg_, _Hokenwert_, and _Schonevelt_, to the plains of
_Blenheim_ and _Hochstet?_ ----Great as he was, corporal, he could not
have advanced a step, or made one single day’s march without the aids of
_Geography_. ----As for _Chronology_, I own, _Trim_, continued my uncle
_Toby_, sitting down again coolly in his sentry-box, that of all others,
it seems a science which the soldier might best spare, was it not for
the lights which that science must one day give him, in determining the
invention of powder; the furious execution of which, renversing
everything like thunder before it, has become a new æra to us of
military improvements, changing so totally the nature of attacks and
defences both by sea and land, and awakening so much art and skill in
doing it, that the world cannot be too exact in ascertaining the precise
time of its discovery, or too inquisitive in knowing what great man was
the discoverer, and what occasions gave birth to it.
I am far from controverting, continued my uncle _Toby_, what historians
agree in, that in the year of our Lord 1380, under the reign of
_Wencelaus_, son of _Charles_ the Fourth----a certain priest, whose name
was _Schwartz_, show’d the use of powder to the _Venetians_, in their
wars against the _Genoese_; but ’tis certain he was not the first;
because if we are to believe Don _Pedro_, the bishop of _Leon_ --How came
priests and bishops, an’ please your honour, to trouble their heads so
much about gunpowder? God knows, said my uncle _Toby_----his providence
brings good out of everything--and he avers, in his chronicle of King
_Alphonsus_, who reduced _Toledo_, That in the year 1343, which was full
thirty-seven years before that time, the secret of powder was well
known, and employed with success, both by Moors and Christians, not only
in their sea-combats, at that period, but in many of their most
memorable sieges in _Spain_ and _Barbary_ --And all the world knows, that
Friar _Bacon_ had wrote expressly about it, and had generously given the
world a receipt to make it by, above a hundred and fifty years before
even _Schwartz_ was born --And that the _Chinese_, added my uncle _Toby_,
embarrass us, and all accounts of it, still more, by boasting of the
invention some hundreds of years even before him----
--They are a pack of liars, I believe, cried _Trim_----
----They are somehow or other deceived, said my uncle _Toby_, in this
matter, as is plain to me from the present miserable state of military
architecture amongst them; which consists of nothing more than a fossé
with a brick wall without flanks--and for what they gave us as a bastion
at each angle of it, ’tis so barbarously constructed, that it looks for
all the world ------------Like one of my seven castles, an’ please your
honour, quoth _Trim_.
My uncle _Toby_, tho’ in the utmost distress for a comparison, most
courteously refused _Trim’s_ offer--till _Trim_ telling him, he had half
a dozen more in _Bohemia_, which he knew not how to get off his
hands----my uncle _Toby_ was so touch’d with the pleasantry of heart of
the corporal----that he discontinued his dissertation upon
gunpowder----and begged the corporal forthwith to go on with his story
of the King of _Bohemia_ and his seven castles.
THE STORY OF THE KING OF BOHEMIA AND HIS SEVEN CASTLES, CONTINUED
This _unfortunate_ King of _Bohemia_, said _Trim_, ----Was he
unfortunate, then? cried my uncle _Toby_, for he had been so wrapt up in
his dissertation upon gunpowder, and other military affairs, that tho’
he had desired the corporal to go on, yet the many interruptions he had
given, dwelt not so strong upon his fancy as to account for the
epithet ----Was he _unfortunate_, then, _Trim?_ said my uncle _Toby_,
pathetically ----The corporal, wishing first the _word_ and all its
synonimas at the devil, forthwith began to run back in his mind, the
principal events in the King of _Bohemia’s_ story; from every one of
which, it appearing that he was the most fortunate man that ever existed
in the world----it put the corporal to a stand: for not caring to
retract his epithet----and less to explain it----and least of all, to
twist his tale (like men of lore) to serve a system----he looked up in
my uncle _Toby’s_ face for assistance----but seeing it was the very
thing my uncle _Toby_ sat in expectation of himself----after a hum and a
haw, he went on------
The King of _Bohemia_, an’ please your honour, replied the corporal, was
_unfortunate_, as thus ----That taking great pleasure and delight in
navigation and all sort of sea affairs----and there _happening_
throughout the whole kingdom of _Bohemia_, to be no seaport town
whatever----
How the duce should there--_Trim?_ cried my uncle _Toby_; for _Bohemia_
being totally inland, it could have happen’d no otherwise ----It might,
said _Trim_, if it had pleased God----
My uncle _Toby_ never spoke of the being and natural attributes of God,
but with diffidence and hesitation----
----I believe not, replied my uncle _Toby_, after some pause----for
being inland, as I said, and having _Silesia_ and _Moravia_ to the east;
_Lusatia_ and _Upper Saxony_ to the north; _Franconia_ to the west;
_Bavaria_ to the south; _Bohemia_ could not have been propell’d to the
sea without ceasing to be _Bohemia_----nor could the sea, on the other
hand, have come up to _Bohemia_, without overflowing a great part of
_Germany_, and destroying millions of unfortunate inhabitants who could
make no defence against it ----Scandalous! cried _Trim_ --Which would
bespeak, added my uncle _Toby_, mildly, such a want of compassion in him
who is the father of it----that, I think, _Trim_----the thing could have
happen’d no way.
The corporal made the bow of unfeigned conviction; and went on.
Now the King of _Bohemia_ with his queen and courtiers _happening_ one
fine summer’s evening to walk out ----Aye! there the word _happening_ is
right, _Trim_, cried my uncle _Toby_; for the King of _Bohemia_ and his
queen might have walk’d out or let it alone: ----’twas a matter of
contingency, which might happen, or not, just as chance ordered it.
King _William_ was of an opinion, an’ please your honour, quoth _Trim_,
that everything was predestined for us in this world; insomuch, that he
would often say to his soldiers, that “every ball had its billet.” He
was a great man, said my uncle _Toby_ ----And I believe, continued
_Trim_, to this day, that the shot which disabled me at the battle of
_Landen_, was pointed at my knee for no other purpose, but to take me
out of his service, and place me in your honour’s, where I should be
taken so much better care of in my old age ----It shall never, _Trim_,
be construed otherwise, said my uncle _Toby_.
The heart, both of the master and the man, were alike subject to sudden
overflowings; ----a short silence ensued.
Besides, said the corporal, resuming the discourse--but in a gayer
accent----if it had not been for that single shot, I had never, an’
please your honour, been in love------
So, thou wast once in love, _Trim!_ said my uncle _Toby_, smiling----
Souse! replied the corporal--over head and ears! an’ please your honour.
Prithee when? where? --and how came it to pass? ----I never heard one
word of it before; quoth my uncle _Toby_: ----I dare say, answered
_Trim_, that every drummer and serjeant’s son in the regiment knew of
it ----It’s high time I should----said my uncle _Toby_.
Your honour remembers with concern, said the corporal, the total rout
and confusion of our camp and army at the affair of _Landen_; every one
was left to shift for himself; and if it had not been for the regiments
of _Wyndham_, _Lumley_, and _Galway_, which covered the retreat over the
bridge of _Neerspeeken_, the king himself could scarce have gained
it----he was press’d hard, as your honour knows, on every side of
him----
Gallant mortal! cried my uncle _Toby_, caught up with enthusiasm--this
moment, now that all is lost, I see him galloping across me, corporal,
to the left, to bring up the remains of the English horse along with him
to support the right, and tear the laurel from _Luxembourg’s_ brows, if
yet ’tis possible ----I see him with the knot of his scarfe just shot
off, infusing fresh spirits into poor _Galway’s_ regiment--riding along
the line--then wheeling about, and charging _Conti_ at the head of
it ----Brave! brave, by heaven! cried my uncle _Toby_--he deserves a
crown ----As richly, as a thief a halter; shouted _Trim_.
My uncle _Toby_ knew the corporal’s loyalty; --otherwise the comparison
was not at all to his mind----it did not altogether strike the
corporal’s fancy when he had made it----but it could not be
recall’d----so he had nothing to do, but proceed.
As the number of wounded was prodigious, and no one had time to think of
anything but his own safety --Though _Talmash_, said my uncle _Toby_,
brought off the foot with great prudence ----But I was left upon the
field, said the corporal. Thou wast so; poor fellow! replied my uncle
_Toby_ ----So that it was noon the next day, continued the corporal,
before I was exchanged, and put into a cart with thirteen or fourteen
more, in order to be convey’d to our hospital.
There is no part of the body, an’ please your honour, where a wound
occasions more intolerable anguish than upon the knee----
Except the groin; said my uncle _Toby_. An’ please your honour, replied
the corporal, the knee, in my opinion, must certainly be the most acute,
there being so many tendons and what-d’ye-call-’ems all about it.
It is for that reason, quoth my uncle _Toby_, that the groin is
infinitely more sensible----there being not only as many tendons and
what-d’ye-call-’ems (for I know their names as little as thou
dost)----about it----but moreover * * *----
Mrs. _Wadman_, who had been all the time in her arbour--instantly
stopp’d her breath--unpinn’d her mob at the chin, and stood up upon one
leg----
The dispute was maintained with amicable and equal force betwixt my
uncle _Toby_ and _Trim_ for some time; till _Trim_ at length
recollecting that he had often cried at his master’s sufferings, but
never shed a tear at his own--was for giving up the point, which my
uncle _Toby_ would not allow----’Tis a proof of nothing, _Trim_, said
he, but the generosity of thy temper----
So that whether the pain of a wound in the groin (cæteris paribus) is
greater than the pain of a wound in the knee----or
Whether the pain of a wound in the knee is not greater than the pain of
a wound in the groin----are points which to this day remain unsettled.
CHAPTER XX
The anguish of my knee, continued the corporal, was excessive in itself;
and the uneasiness of the cart, with the roughness of the roads, which
were terribly cut up--making bad still worse--every step was death to
me: so that with the loss of blood, and the want of care-taking of me,
and a fever I felt coming on besides----(Poor soul! said my uncle
_Toby_)----all together, an’ please your honour, was more than I could
sustain.
I was telling my sufferings to a young woman at a peasant’s house, where
our cart, which was the last of the line, had halted; they had help’d me
in, and the young woman had taken a cordial out of her pocket and
dropp’d it upon some sugar, and seeing it had cheer’d me, she had given
it me a second and a third time ----So I was telling her, an’ please your
honour, the anguish I was in, and was saying it was so intolerable to
me, that I had much rather lie down upon the bed, turning my face
towards one which was in the corner of the room--and die, than go
on----when, upon her attempting to lead me to it, I fainted away in her
arms. She was a good soul! as your honour, said the corporal, wiping his
eyes, will hear.
I thought _love_ had been a joyous thing, quoth my uncle _Toby_.
’Tis the most serious thing, an’ please your honour (sometimes), that is
in the world.
By the persuasion of the young woman, continued the corporal, the cart
with the wounded men set off without me: she had assured them I should
expire immediately if I was put into the cart. So when I came to
myself ----I found myself in a still quiet cottage, with no one but the
young woman, and the peasant and his wife. I was laid across the bed in
the corner of the room, with my wounded leg upon a chair, and the young
woman beside me, holding the corner of her handkerchief dipp’d in
vinegar to my nose with one hand, and rubbing my temples with the other.
I took her at first for the daughter of the peasant (for it was no
inn)--so had offer’d her a little purse with eighteen florins, which my
poor brother _Tom_ (here _Trim_ wip’d his eyes) had sent me as a token,
by a recruit, just before he set out for _Lisbon_.----
----I never told your honour that piteous story yet----here _Trim_ wiped
his eyes a third time.
The young woman call’d the old man and his wife into the room, to show
them the money, in order to gain me credit for a bed and what little
necessaries I should want, till I should be in a condition to be got to
the hospital ----Come then! said she, tying up the little purse --I’ll
be your banker--but as that office alone will not keep me employ’d, I’ll
be your nurse too.
I thought by her manner of speaking this, as well as by her dress, which
I then began to consider more attentively----that the young woman could
not be the daughter of the peasant.
She was in black down to her toes, with her hair conceal’d under a
cambric border, laid close to her forehead: she was one of those kind of
nuns, an’ please your honour, of which, your honour knows, there are a
good many in _Flanders_, which they let go loose ----By thy description,
_Trim_, said my uncle _Toby_, I dare say she was a young _Beguine_, of
which there are none to be found anywhere but in the _Spanish
Netherlands_--except at _Amsterdam_----they differ from nuns in this,
that they can quit their cloister if they choose to marry; they visit
and take care of the sick by profession ----I had rather, for my own
part, they did it out of good-nature.
----She often told me, quoth _Trim_, she did it for the love of
Christ --I did not like it. ----I believe, _Trim_, we are both wrong,
said my uncle _Toby_--we’ll ask Mr. _Yorick_ about it to-night at my
brother _Shandy’s_----so put me in mind; added my uncle _Toby_.
The young _Beguine_, continued the corporal, had scarce given herself
time to tell me “she would be my nurse,” when she hastily turned about
to begin the office of one, and prepare something for me----and in a
short time--though I thought it a long one--she came back with flannels,
&c. &c., and having fomented my knee soundly for a couple of hours, &c.,
and made me a thin bason of gruel for my supper--she wish’d me rest, and
promised to be with me early in the morning. ----She wished me, an’
please your honour, what was not to be had. My fever ran very high that
night--her figure made sad disturbance within me --I was every moment
cutting the world in two--to give her half of it--and every moment was I
crying, That I had nothing but a knapsack and eighteen florins to share
with her ----The whole night long was the fair _Beguine_, like an angel,
close by my bedside, holding back the curtain and offering me
cordials--and I was only awakened from my dream by her coming there at
the hour promised, and giving them in reality. In truth, she was scarce
ever from me; and so accustomed was I to receive life from her hands,
that my heart sickened, and I lost colour when she left the room: and
yet, continued the corporal (making one of the strangest reflections
upon it in the world)----
----“_It was not love_”----for during the three weeks she was almost
constantly with me, fomenting my knee with her hand, night and day --I
can honestly say, an’ please your honour--that * * * * *
* * * * * * * * * * * * once.
That was very odd, _Trim_, quoth my uncle _Toby_.
I think so too--said Mrs. _Wadman_.
It never did, said the corporal.
CHAPTER XXI
----But ’tis no marvel, continued the corporal--seeing my uncle _Toby_
musing upon it--for Love, an’ please your honour, is exactly like war,
in this; that a soldier, though he has escaped three weeks complete o’
_Saturday_ night, --may nevertheless be shot through his heart on
_Sunday_ morning----_It happened so here_, an’ please your honour, with
this difference only--that it was on _Sunday_ in the afternoon, when I
fell in love all at once with a sisserara ----It burst upon me, an’
please your honour, like a bomb----scarce giving me time to say, “God
bless me.”
I thought, _Trim_, said my uncle _Toby_, a man never fell in love so
very suddenly.
Yes, an’ please your honour, if he is in the way of it----replied
_Trim_.
I prithee, quoth my uncle _Toby_, inform me how this matter happened.
----With all pleasure, said the corporal, making a bow.
CHAPTER XXII
I had escaped, continued the corporal, all that time from falling in
love, and had gone on to the end of the chapter, had it not been
predestined otherwise----there is no resisting our fate.
It was on a _Sunday_, in the afternoon, as I told your honour.
The old man and his wife had walked out----
Everything was still and hush as midnight about the house----
There was not so much as a duck or a duckling about the yard----
----When the fair _Beguine_ came in to see me.
My wound was then in a fair way of doing well----the inflammation had
been gone off for some time, but it was succeeded with an itching both
above and below my knee, so insufferable, that I had not shut my eyes
the whole night for it.
Let me see it, said she, kneeling down upon the ground parallel to my
knee, and laying her hand upon the part below it----it only wants
rubbing a little, said the _Beguine_; so covering it with the
bed-clothes, she began with the forefinger of her right hand to rub
under my knee, guiding her forefinger backwards and forwards by the edge
of the _flannel_ which kept on the dressing.
In five or six minutes I felt slightly the end of her second finger--and
presently it was laid flat with the other, and she continued rubbing in
that way round and round for a good while; it then came into my head,
that I should fall in love --I blush’d when I saw how white a hand she
had --I shall never, an’ please your honour, behold another hand so
white whilst I live----
----Not in that place; said my uncle _Toby_----
Though it was the most serious despair in nature to the corporal--he
could not forbear smiling.
The young _Beguine_, continued the corporal, perceiving it was of great
service to me--from rubbing for some time, with two fingers--proceeded
to rub at length, with three--till by little and little she brought down
the fourth, and then rubb’d with her whole hand: I will never say
another word, an’ please your honour, upon hands again--but it was
softer than sattin--
----Prithee, _Trim_, commend it as much as thou wilt, said my uncle
_Toby_; I shall hear thy story with the more delight ----The corporal
thank’d his master most unfeignedly; but having nothing to say upon the
_Beguine’s_ hand but the same over again----he proceeded to the effects
of it.
The fair _Beguine_, said the corporal, continued rubbing with her whole
hand under my knee--till I fear’d her zeal would weary her---- “I would
do a thousand times more,” said she, “for the love of Christ” ----In
saying which, she pass’d her hand across the flannel, to the part above
my knee, which I had equally complain’d of, and rubb’d it also.
I perceived, then, I was beginning to be in love----
As she continued rub-rub-rubbing --I felt it spread from under her hand,
an’ please your honour, to every part of my frame.----
The more she rubb’d, and the longer strokes she took----the more the
fire kindled in my veins----till at length, by two or three strokes
longer than the rest----my passion rose to the highest pitch ----I seiz’d
her hand----
----And then thou clapped’st it to thy lips, _Trim_, said my uncle
_Toby_----and madest a speech.
Whether the corporal’s amour terminated precisely in the way my uncle
_Toby_ described it, is not material; it is enough that it contained in
it the essence of all the love romances which ever have been wrote since
the beginning of the world.
CHAPTER XXIII
As soon as the corporal had finished the story of his amour--or rather
my uncle _Toby_ for him --Mrs. _Wadman_ silently sallied forth from her
arbour, replaced the pin in her mob, pass’d the wicker-gate, and
advanced slowly towards my uncle _Toby’s_ sentry-box: the disposition
which _Trim_ had made in my uncle _Toby’s_ mind, was too favourable a
crisis to be let slipp’d----
----The attack was determin’d upon: it was facilitated still more by my
uncle _Toby’s_ having ordered the corporal to wheel off the pioneer’s
shovel, the spade, the pick-axe, the picquets, and other military stores
which lay scatter’d upon the ground where _Dunkirk_ stood--the corporal
had march’d--the field was clear.
Now, consider, sir, what nonsense it is, either in fighting, or writing,
or anything else (whether in rhyme to it, or not) which a man has
occasion to do--to act by plan: for if ever Plan, independent of all
circumstances, deserved registering in letters of gold (I mean in the
archives of _Gotham_)--it was certainly the PLAN of Mrs. _Wadman’s_
attack of my uncle _Toby_ in his sentry-box, BY PLAN ----Now the plan
hanging up in it at this juncture, being the Plan of _Dunkirk_--and the
tale of _Dunkirk_ a tale of relaxation, it opposed every impression she
could make: and besides, could she have gone upon it--the manœuvre of
fingers and hands in the attack of the sentry-box, was so outdone by
that of the fair _Beguine’s_, in _Trim’s_ story--that just then, that
particular attack, however successful before--became the most heartless
attack that could be made----
O! let woman alone for this. Mrs. _Wadman_ had scarce open’d the
wicket-gate, when her genius sported with the change of circumstances.
----She formed a new attack in a moment.
CHAPTER XXIV
----I am half distracted, captain _Shandy_, said Mrs. _Wadman_, holding
up her cambrick handkerchief to her left eye, as she approach’d the door
of my uncle _Toby’s_ sentry-box----a mote----or sand----or
something ----I know not what, has got into this eye of mine----do look
into it--it is not in the white--
In saying which, Mrs. _Wadman_ edged herself close in beside my uncle
_Toby_, and squeezing herself down upon the corner of his bench, she
gave him an opportunity of doing it without rising up ----Do look into
it--said she.
Honest soul! thou didst look into it with as much innocency of heart, as
ever child look’d into a raree-shew-box; and ’twere as much a sin to
have hurt thee.
----If a man will be peeping of his own accord into things of that
nature ----I’ve nothing to say to it----
My uncle _Toby_ never did: and I will answer for him, that he would have
sat quietly upon a sofa from _June_ to _January_ (which, you know, takes
in both the hot and cold months), with an eye as fine as the
_Thracian_[8.4] _Rodope’s_ beside him, without being able to tell,
whether it was a black or blue one.
The difficulty was to get my uncle _Toby_ to look at one at all.
’Tis surmounted. And
I see him yonder with his pipe pendulous in his hand, and the ashes
falling out of it--looking--and looking--then rubbing his eyes--and
looking again, with twice the good-nature that ever _Gallileo_ look’d
for a spot in the sun.
----In vain! for by all the powers which animate the organ ----Widow
_Wadman’s_ left eye shines this moment as lucid as her right----there is
neither mote, or sand, or dust, or chaff, or speck, or particle of opake
matter floating in it --There is nothing, my dear paternal uncle! but
one lambent delicious fire, furtively shooting out from every part of
it, in all directions, into thine----
----If thou lookest, uncle _Toby_, in search of this mote one moment
longer----thou art undone.
[Footnote 8.4: _Rodope Thracia_ tam inevitabili fascino
instructa, tam exactè oculus intuens attraxit, ut si in illam
quis incidisset, fieri non posset, quin caperetur. ----I know
not who.]
CHAPTER XXV
An eye is for all the world exactly like a cannon, in this respect; That
it is not so much the eye or the cannon, in themselves, as it is the
carriage of the eye----and the carriage of the cannon, by which both the
one and the other are enabled to do so much execution. I don’t think the
comparison a bad one; However, as ’tis made and placed at the head of
the chapter, as much for use as ornament, all I desire in return is,
that whenever I speak of Mrs. _Wadman’s_ eyes (except once in the next
period), that you keep it in your fancy.
I protest, Madam, said my uncle _Toby_, I can see nothing whatever in
your eye.
It is not in the white; said Mrs. _Wadman_: my uncle _Toby_ look’d with
might and main into the pupil----
Now of all the eyes which ever were created----from your own, Madam, up
to those of _Venus_ herself, which certainly were as venereal a pair of
eyes as ever stood in a head----there never was an eye of them all, so
fitted to rob my uncle _Toby_ of his repose, as the very eye, at which
he was looking----it was not, Madam, a rolling eye----a romping or a
wanton one--nor was it an eye sparkling--petulant or imperious--of high
claims and terrifying exactions, which would have curdled at once that
milk of human nature, of which my uncle _Toby_ was made up----but ’twas
an eye full of gentle salutations----and soft responses----speaking----
not like the trumpet stop of some ill-made organ, in which many an eye
I talk to, holds coarse converse----but whispering soft----like the
last low accent of an expiring saint---- “How can you live comfortless,
captain _Shandy_, and alone, without a bosom to lean your head on----or
trust your cares to?”
It was an eye----
But I shall be in love with it myself, if I say another word about it.
----It did my uncle _Toby’s_ business.
CHAPTER XXVI
There is nothing shews the character of my father and my uncle _Toby_,
in a more entertaining light, than their different manner of deportment,
under the same accident----for I call not love a misfortune, from a
persuasion, that a man’s heart is ever the better for it ----Great God!
what must my uncle _Toby’s_ have been, when ’twas all benignity without
it.
My father, as appears from many of his papers, was very subject to this
passion, before he married----but from a little subacid kind of drollish
impatience in his nature, whenever it befell him, he would never submit
to it like a christian; but would pish, and huff, and bounce, and kick,
and play the Devil, and write the bitterest Philippicks against the eye
that ever man wrote----there is one in verse upon somebody’s eye or
other, that for two or three nights together, had put him by his rest;
which in his first transport of resentment against it, he begins thus:
“A Devil ’tis----and mischief such doth work
As never yet did _Pagan_, _Jew_, or _Turk_.”[8.5]
In short, during the whole paroxism, my father was all abuse and foul
language, approaching rather towards malediction----only he did not do
it with as much method as _Ernulphus_----he was too impetuous; nor with
_Ernulphus’s_ policy----for tho’ my father, with the most intolerant
spirit, would curse both this and that, and every thing under heaven,
which was either aiding or abetting to his love----yet never concluded
his chapter of curses upon it, without cursing himself in at the
bargain, as one of the most egregious fools and coxcombs, he would say,
that ever was let loose in the world.
My uncle _Toby_, on the contrary, took it like a lamb----sat still and
let the poison work in his veins without resistance----in the sharpest
exacerbations of his wound (like that on his groin) he never dropt one
fretful or discontented word----he blamed neither heaven nor earth----or
thought or spoke an injurious thing of any body, or any part of it; he
sat solitary and pensive with his pipe----looking at his lame
leg----then whiffing out a sentimental heigh ho! which mixing with the
smoke, incommoded no one mortal.
He took it like a lamb ----I say.
In truth he had mistook it at first; for having taken a ride with my
father, that very morning, to save if possible a beautiful wood, which
the dean and chapter were hewing down to give to the poor;[8.6] which
said wood being in full view of my uncle _Toby’s_ house, and of singular
service to him in his description of the battle of _Wynnendale_--by
trotting on too hastily to save it----upon an uneasy saddle----worse
horse, &c. &c. . . it had so happened, that the serous part of the blood
had got betwixt the two skins, in the nethermost part of my uncle
_Toby_----the first shootings of which (as my uncle _Toby_ had no
experience of love) he had taken for a part of the passion--till the
blister breaking in the one case--and the other remaining--my uncle
_Toby_ was presently convinced, that his wound was not a skin-deep
wound----but that it had gone to his heart.
[Footnote 8.5: This will be printed with my father’s Life of
_Socrates_, &c. &c.]
[Footnote 8.6: Mr. _Shandy_ must mean the poor _in spirit_;
inasmuch as they divided the money amongst themselves.]
CHAPTER XXVII
The world is ashamed of being virtuous ----My uncle _Toby_ knew little
of the world; and therefore when he felt he was in love with widow
_Wadman_, he had no conception that the thing was any more to be made a
mystery of, than if Mrs. _Wadman_ had given him a cut with a gap’d knife
across his finger: Had it been otherwise----yet as he ever look’d upon
_Trim_ as a humble friend; and saw fresh reasons every day of his life,
to treat him as such----it would have made no variation in the manner in
which he informed him of the affair.
“I am in love, corporal!” quoth my uncle _Toby_.
CHAPTER XXVIII
In love! ----said the corporal--your honour was very well the day before
yesterday, when I was telling your honour the story of the King of
_Bohemia_--_Bohemia!_ said my uncle _Toby_ - - - - musing a long time
- - - What became of that story, _Trim?_
--We lost it, an’ please your honour, somehow betwixt us--but your
honour was as free from love then, as I am----’twas just whilst thou
went’st off with the wheel-barrow----with Mrs. _Wadman_, quoth my uncle
_Toby_ ----She has left a ball here--added my uncle _Toby_--pointing to
his breast----
----She can no more, an’ please your honour, stand a siege, than she can
fly--cried the corporal----
----But as we are neighbours, _Trim_, --the best way I think is to let
her know it civilly first--quoth my uncle _Toby_.
Now if I might presume, said the corporal, to differ from your
honour----
--Why else do I talk to thee, _Trim?_ said my uncle _Toby_, mildly----
--Then I would begin, an’ please your honour, with making a good
thundering attack upon her, in return--and telling her civilly
afterwards--for if she knows anything of your honour’s being in love,
before hand ----L--d help her! --she knows no more at present of it,
_Trim_, said my uncle _Toby_--than the child unborn------
Precious souls!------
Mrs. _Wadman_ had told it, with all its circumstances, to Mrs. _Bridget_
twenty-four hours before; and was at that very moment sitting in council
with her, touching some slight misgivings with regard to the issue of
the affairs, which the Devil, who never lies dead in a ditch, had put
into her head--before he would allow half time, to get quietly through
her _Te Deum_.
I am terribly afraid, said widow _Wadman_, in case I should marry him,
_Bridget_--that the poor captain will not enjoy his health, with the
monstrous wound upon his groin----
It may not, Madam, be so very large, replied _Bridget_, as you
think----and I believe, besides, added she--that ’tis dried up----
----I could like to know--merely for his sake, said Mrs. _Wadman_----
--We’ll know the long and the broad of it, in ten days--answered Mrs.
_Bridget_, for whilst the captain is paying his addresses to you --I’m
confident Mr. _Trim_ will be for making love to me--and I’ll let him as
much as he will--added _Bridget_--to get it all out of him----
The measures were taken at once----and my uncle _Toby_ and the corporal
went on with theirs.
Now, quoth the corporal, setting his left hand a-kimbo, and giving such
a flourish with his right, as just promised success--and no more----if
your honour will give me leave to lay down the plan of this attack----
----Thou wilt please me by it, _Trim_, said my uncle _Toby_,
exceedingly--and as I foresee thou must act in it as my _aid de camp_,
here’s a crown, corporal, to begin with, to steep thy commission.
Then, an’ please your honour, said the corporal (making a bow first for
his commission)--we will begin with getting your honour’s laced cloaths
out of the great campaign-trunk, to be well air’d, and have the blue and
gold taken up at the sleeves--and I’ll put your white ramallie-wig fresh
into pipes--and send for a taylor, to have your honour’s thin scarlet
breeches turn’d----
--I had better take the red plush ones, quoth my uncle _Toby_ ----They
will be too clumsy--said the corporal.
CHAPTER XXIX
----Thou wilt get a brush and a little chalk to my sword----’Twill be
only in your honour’s way, replied _Trim_.
CHAPTER XXX
----But your honour’s two razors shall be new set--and I will get my
_Montero_-cap furbish’d up, and put on poor lieutenant _Le Fever’s_
regimental coat, which your honour gave me to wear for his sake--and as
soon as your honour is clean shaved--and has got your clean shirt on,
with your blue and gold, or your fine scarlet----sometimes one and
sometimes t’other--and everything is ready for the attack--we’ll march
up boldly, as if ’twas to the face of a bastion; and whilst your honour
engages Mrs. _Wadman_ in the parlour, to the right ----I’ll attack Mrs.
_Bridget_ in the kitchen, to the left; and having seiz’d the pass, I’ll
answer for it, said the corporal, snapping his fingers over his
head--that the day is our own.
I wish I may but manage it right; said my uncle _Toby_--but I declare,
corporal, I had rather march up to the very edge of a trench----
--A woman is quite a different thing--said the corporal.
--I suppose so, quoth my uncle _Toby_.
CHAPTER XXXI
If anything in this world, which my father said, could have provoked my
uncle _Toby_, during the time he was in love, it was the perverse use my
father was always making of an expression of _Hilarion_ the hermit; who,
in speaking of his abstinence, his watchings, flagellations, and other
instrumental parts of his religion--would say--tho’ with more
facetiousness than became an hermit-- “That they were the means he used,
to make his _ass_ (meaning his body) leave off kicking.”
It pleased my father well; it was not only a laconick way of
expressing----but of libelling, at the same time, the desires and
appetites of the lower part of us; so that for many years of my father’s
life, ’twas his constant mode of expression--he never used the word
_passions_ once--but _ass_ always instead of them ----So that he might
be said truly, to have been upon the bones, or the back of his own ass,
or else of some other man’s, during all that time.
I must here observe to you the difference betwixt
My father’s ass
and my hobby-horse--in order to keep characters as separate as may be,
in our fancies as we go along.
For my hobby-horse, if you recollect a little, is no way a vicious
beast; he has scarce one hair or lineament of the ass about him----’Tis
the sporting little filly-folly which carries you out for the present
hour--a maggot, a butterfly, a picture, a fiddlestick--an uncle _Toby’s_
siege--or an _anything_, which a man makes a shift to get a-stride on,
to canter it away from the cares and solicitudes of life--’Tis as useful
a beast as is in the whole creation--nor do I really see how the world
would do without it----
----But for my father’s ass------oh! mount him--mount him--mount
him--(that’s three times, is it not?)--mount him not: --’tis a beast
concupiscent--and foul befal the man, who does not hinder him from
kicking.
CHAPTER XXXII
Well! dear brother _Toby_, said my father, upon his first seeing him
after he fell in love--and how goes it with your ASSE?
Now my uncle _Toby_ thinking more of the _part_ where he had had the
blister, than of _Hilarion’s_ metaphor--and our preconceptions having
(you know) as great a power over the sounds of words as the shapes of
things, he had imagined, that my father, who was not very ceremonious in
his choice of words, had enquired after the part by its proper name; so
notwithstanding my mother, doctor _Slop_, and Mr. _Yorick_, were sitting
in the parlour, he thought it rather civil to conform to the term my
father had made use of than not. When a man is hemm’d in by two
indecorums, and must commit one of ’em --I always observe--let him chuse
which he will, the world will blame him--so I should not be astonished
if it blames my uncle _Toby_.
My A--e, quoth my uncle _Toby_, is much better--brother _Shandy_ --My
father had formed great expectations from his Asse in this onset; and
would have brought him on again; but doctor _Slop_ setting up an
intemperate laugh--and my mother crying out L-- bless us! --it drove my
father’s Asse off the field--and the laugh then becoming general--there
was no bringing him back to the charge, for some time----
And so the discourse went on without him.
Everybody, said my mother, says you are in love, brother _Toby_, --and
we hope it is true.
I am as much in love, sister, I believe, replied my uncle _Toby_, as any
man usually is ----Humph! said my father----and when did you know it?
quoth my mother----
----When the blister broke; replied my uncle _Toby_.
My uncle _Toby’s_ reply put my father into good temper--so he charg’d o’
foot.
CHAPTER XXXIII
As the ancients agree, brother _Toby_, said my father, that there are
two different and distinct kinds of _love_, according to the different
parts which are affected by it--the Brain or Liver ----I think when a
man is in love, it behoves him a little to consider which of the two he
is fallen into.
What signifies it, brother _Shandy_, replied my uncle _Toby_, which of
the two it is, provided it will but make a man marry, and love his wife,
and get a few children?
----A few children! cried my father, rising out of his chair, and
looking full in my mother’s face, as he forced his way betwixt her’s and
doctor _Slop’s_--a few children! cried my father, repeating my uncle
_Toby’s_ words as he walk’d to and fro----
----Not, my dear brother _Toby_, cried my father, recovering himself all
at once, and coming close up to the back of my uncle _Toby’s_ chair--not
that I should be sorry hadst thou a score--on the contrary, I should
rejoice--and be as kind, _Toby_, to every one of them as a father--
My uncle _Toby_ stole his hand unperceived behind his chair, to give my
father’s a squeeze----
----Nay, moreover, continued he, keeping hold of my uncle _Toby’s_
hand--so much dost thou possess, my dear _Toby_, of the milk of human
nature, and so little of its asperities--’tis piteous the world is not
peopled by creatures which resemble thee; and was I an _Asiatic_
monarch, added my father, heating himself with his new project --I would
oblige thee, provided it would not impair thy strength--or dry up thy
radical moisture too fast--or weaken thy memory or fancy, brother
_Toby_, which these gymnics inordinately taken are apt to do--else, dear
_Toby_, I would procure thee the most beautiful women in my empire, and
I would oblige thee, _nolens, volens_, to beget for me one subject every
_month_----
As my father pronounced the last word of the sentence--my mother took a
pinch of snuff.
Now I would not, quoth my uncle _Toby_, get a child, _nolens, volens_,
that is, whether I would or no, to please the greatest prince upon
earth----
----And ’twould be cruel in me, brother _Toby_, to compel thee; said my
father--but ’tis a case put to show thee, that it is not thy begetting a
child--in case thou should’st be able--but the system of Love and
Marriage thou goest upon, which I would set thee right in----
There is at least, said _Yorick_, a great deal of reason and plain sense
in captain _Shandy’s_ opinion of love; and ’tis amongst the ill-spent
hours of my life, which I have to answer for, that I have read so many
flourishing poets and rhetoricians in my time, from whom I never could
extract so much----
I wish, _Yorick_, said my father, you had read _Plato_; for there you
would have learnt that there are two LOVES --I know there were two
RELIGIONS, replied _Yorick_, amongst the ancients----one--for the
vulgar, and another for the learned; --but I think ONE LOVE might have
served both of them very well--
It could not; replied my father--and for the same reasons: for of these
Loves, according to _Ficinus’s_ comment upon _Velasius_, the one is
rational----
----the other is _natural_----
the first ancient----without mother----where _Venus_ had nothing to do:
the second, begotten of _Jupiter_ and _Dione_--
----Pray, brother, quoth my uncle _Toby_, what has a man who believes in
God to do with this? My father could not stop to answer, for fear of
breaking the thread of his discourse----
This latter, continued he, partakes wholly of the nature of _Venus_.
The first, which is the golden chain let down from heaven, excites to
love heroic, which comprehends in it, and excites to the desire of
philosophy and truth----the second, excites to _desire_, simply----
----I think the procreation of children as beneficial to the world, said
_Yorick_, as the finding out of the longitude----
----To be sure, said my mother, _love_ keeps peace in the world----
----In the _house_--my dear, I own--
----It replenishes the earth; said my mother----
But it keeps heaven empty--my dear; replied my father.
----’Tis Virginity, cried _Slop_, triumphantly, which fills paradise.
Well push’d, nun! quoth my father.
CHAPTER XXXIV
My father had such a skirmishing, cutting kind of a slashing way with
him, in his disputations, thrusting and ripping, and giving every one a
stroke to remember him by in his turn--that if there were twenty people
in company--in less than half an hour he was sure to have every one of
’em against him.
What did not a little contribute to leave him thus without an ally, was,
that if there was any one post more untenable than the rest, he would be
sure to throw himself into it; and to do him justice, when he was once
there, he would defend it so gallantly, that ’twould have been a
concern, either to a brave man or a good-natured one, to have seen him
driven out.
_Yorick_, for this reason, though he would often attack him--yet could
never bear to do it with all his force.
Doctor _Slop’s_ VIRGINITY, in the close of the last chapter, had got him
for once on the right side of the rampart; and he was beginning to blow
up all the convents in _Christendom_ about _Slop’s_ ears, when corporal
_Trim_ came into the parlour to inform my uncle _Toby_, that his thin
scarlet breeches, in which the attack was to be made upon Mrs. _Wadman_,
would not do; for that the taylor, in ripping them up, in order to turn
them, had found they had been turn’d before ----Then turn them again,
brother, said my father, rapidly, for there will be many a turning of
’em yet before all’s done in the affair ----They are as rotten as dirt,
said the corporal ----Then by all means, said my father, bespeak a new
pair, brother----for though I know, continued my father, turning himself
to the company, that widow _Wadman_ has been deeply in love with my
brother _Toby_ for many years, and has used every art and circumvention
of woman to outwit him into the same passion, yet now that she has
caught him----her fever will be pass’d its height----
----She has gain’d her point.
In this case, continued my father, which _Plato_, I am persuaded, never
thought of ----Love, you see, is not so much a SENTIMENT as a SITUATION,
into which a man enters, as my brother _Toby_ would do, into a
_corps_----no matter whether he loves the service or no----being once in
it--he acts as if he did; and takes every step to shew himself a man of
prowesse.
The hypothesis, like the rest of my father’s, was plausible enough, and
my uncle _Toby_ had but a single word to object to it--in which _Trim_
stood ready to second him----but my father had not drawn his
conclusion----
For this reason, continued my father (stating the case over
again)--notwithstanding all the world knows, that Mrs. _Wadman_
_affects_ my brother _Toby_--and my brother _Toby_ contrariwise
_affects_ Mrs. _Wadman_, and no obstacle in nature to forbid the music
striking up this very night, yet will I answer for it, that this
self-same tune will not be play’d this twelvemonth.
We have taken our measures badly, quoth my uncle _Toby_, looking up
interrogatively in _Trim’s_ face.
I would lay my _Montero_-cap, said _Trim_ ----Now _Trim’s_ _Montero_-cap,
as I once told you, was his constant wager; and having furbish’d it up
that very night, in order to go upon the attack--it made the odds look
more considerable ----I would lay, an’ please your honour, my
_Montero_-cap to a shilling--was it proper, continued _Trim_ (making a
bow), to offer a wager before your honours----
----There is nothing improper in it, said my father--’tis a mode of
expression; for in saying thou would’st lay thy _Montero_-cap to a
shilling--all thou meanest is this--that thou believest--
----Now, What do’st thou believe?