Tho' the shock my uncle _Toby_ received the year after the demolition of _Dunkirk_, in his affair with widow _Wadman_, had fixed him in a resolution never more to think of the sex--or of aught which belonged to it; --yet corporal _Trim_ had made no such bargain with himself. Indeed in my uncle _Toby's_ case there was a strange and unaccountable concurrence of circumstances, which insensibly drew him in, to lay siege to that fair and strong citadel. ----In _Trim's_ case there was a concurrence of nothing in the world, but of him and _Bridget_ in the kitchen; --though in truth, the love and veneration he bore his master was such, and so fond was he of imitating him in all he did, that had my uncle _Toby_ employed his time and genius in tagging of points ----I am persuaded the honest corporal would have laid down his arms, and followed his example with pleasure. When therefore my uncle _Toby_ sat down before the mistress--corporal _Trim_ incontinently took ground before the maid.
Now, my dear friend _Garrick_, whom I have so much cause to esteem and honour--(why, or wherefore, 'tis no matter)--can it escape your penetration --I defy it--that so many playwrights, and opificers of chit-chat have ever since been working upon _Trim's_ and my uncle _Toby's_ pattern. ----I care not what _Aristotle_, or _Pacuvius_, or _Bossu_, or _Ricaboni_ say--(though I never read one of them)----there is not a greater difference between a single-horse chair and madam _Pompadour's_ _vis--vis_; than betwixt a single amour, and an amour thus nobly doubled, and going upon all four, prancing throughout a grand drama ----Sir, a simple, single, silly affair of that kind--is quite lost in five acts; --but that is neither here nor there.
After a series of attacks and repulses in a course of nine months on my uncle _Toby's_ quarter, a most minute account of every particular of which shall be given in its proper place, my uncle _Toby_, honest man! found it necessary to draw off his forces and raise the siege somewhat indignantly.
Corporal _Trim_, as I said, had made no such bargain either with himself----or with any one else----the fidelity however of his heart not suffering him to go into a house which his master had forsaken with disgust----he contented himself with turning his part of the siege into a blockade; --that is, he kept others off; --for though he never after went to the house, yet he never met _Bridget_ in the village, but he would either nod or wink, or smile, or look kindly at her--or (as circumstances directed) he would shake her by the hand--or ask her lovingly how she did--or would give her a ribbon--and now-and-then, though never but when it could be done with decorum, would give _Bridget_ a--
Precisely in this situation, did these things stand for five years; that is, from the demolition of _Dunkirk_ in the year 13, to the latter end of my uncle _Toby's_ campaign in the year 18, which was about six or seven weeks before the time I'm speaking of. ----When _Trim_, as his custom was, after he had put my uncle _Toby_ to bed, going down one moonshiny night to see that everything was right at his fortifications----in the lane separated from the bowling-green with flowering shrubs and holly--he espied his _Bridget_.
As the corporal thought there was nothing in the world so well worth shewing as the glorious works which he and my uncle _Toby_ had made, _Trim_ courteously and gallantly took her by the hand, and led her in: this was not done so privately, but that the foul-mouth'd trumpet of Fame carried it from ear to ear, till at length it reach'd my father's, with this untoward circumstance along with it, that my uncle _Toby's_ curious drawbridge, constructed and painted after the _Dutch_ fashion, and which went quite across the ditch--was broke down, and somehow or other crushed all to pieces that very night.
My father, as you have observed, had no great esteem for my uncle _Toby's_ hobby-horse, he thought it the most ridiculous horse that ever gentleman mounted; and indeed unless my uncle _Toby_ vexed him about it, could never think of it once, without smiling at it----so that it could never get lame or happen any mischance, but it tickled my father's imagination beyond measure; but this being an accident much more to his humour than any one which had yet befall'n it, it proved an inexhaustible fund of entertainment to him. ----Well----but dear _Toby!_ my father would say, do tell me seriously how this affair of the bridge happened. ----How can you tease me so much about it? my uncle _Toby_ would reply --I have told it you twenty times, word for word as _Trim_ told it me. --Prithee, how was it then, corporal? my father would cry, turning to _Trim_. --It was a mere misfortune, an' please your honour; ----I was shewing Mrs. _Bridget_ our fortifications, and in going too near the edge of the fosse, I unfortunately slipp'd in ----Very well, _Trim!_ my father would cry----(smiling mysteriously, and giving a nod--but without interrupting him)----and being link'd fast, an' please your honour, arm in arm with Mrs. _Bridget_, I dragg'd her after me, by means of which she fell backwards soss against the bridge----and _Trim's_ foot (my uncle _Toby_ would cry, taking the story out of his mouth) getting into the cuvette, he tumbled full against the bridge too. --It was a thousand to one, my uncle _Toby_ would add, that the poor fellow did not break his leg. ------Ay truly, my father would say---- a limb is soon broke, brother _Toby_, in such encounters. ----And so, an' please your honour, the bridge, which your honour knows was a very slight one, was broke down betwixt us, and splintered all to pieces.
At other times, but especially when my uncle _Toby_ was so unfortunate as to say a syllable about cannons, bombs, or petards--my father would exhaust all the stores of his eloquence (which indeed were very great) in a panegyric upon the BATTERING-RAMS of the ancients--the VINEA which _Alexander_ made use of at the siege of _Troy_. --He would tell my uncle _Toby_ of the CATAPULT of the _Syrians_, which threw such monstrous stones so many hundred feet, and shook the strongest bulwarks from their very foundation: --he would go on and describe the wonderful mechanism of the BALLISTA which _Marcellinus_ makes so much rout about! --the terrible effects of the PYROBOLI, which cast fire; ----the danger of the TEREBRA and SCORPIO, which cast javelins. ----But what are these, would he say, to the destructive machinery of corporal _Trim?_ ----Believe me, brother _Toby_, no bridge, or bastion, or sally-port, that ever was constructed in this world, can hold out against such artillery.
My uncle _Toby_ would never attempt any defence against the force of this ridicule, but that of redoubling the vehemence of smoaking his pipe; in doing which, he raised so dense a vapour one night after supper, that it set my father, who was a little phthisical, into a suffocating fit of violent coughing: my uncle _Toby_ leap'd up without feeling the pain upon his groin--and, with infinite pity, stood beside his brother's chair, tapping his back with one hand, and holding his head with the other, and from time to time wiping his eyes with a clean cambrick handkerchief, which he pulled out of his pocket. ----The affectionate and endearing manner in which my uncle _Toby_ did these little offices--cut my father thro' his reins, for the pain he had just been giving him. ----May my brains be knock'd out with a battering-ram or a catapulta, I care not which, quoth my father to himself--if ever I insult this worthy soul more!
Though the shock my uncle Toby received in his affair with widow Wadman made him resolve never more to think of the female sex, yet corporal Trim had made no such bargain with himself.
In my uncle Toby's case there was a strange and unaccountable meeting of circumstances, which drew him in to lay siege to that fair citadel. In Trim's case there was a meeting of nothing, but of him and Bridget in the kitchen. When my uncle Toby sat down before the widow, corporal Trim stood before the maid.
After a series of attacks and repulses by my uncle Toby over nine months, a most minute account of which shall be given in its proper place, my uncle Toby, honest man! found it necessary to draw off his forces and raise the siege somewhat indignantly.
Corporal Trim, as I said, had made no such bargain with himself. However, his faithful heart not allowing him to go into a house which his master had forsaken with disgust - he contented himself with a blockade; - that is, he kept others off. For though he never went to the house, when he met Bridget in the village, it was with a nod, or a smile; he would shake her hand - or ask her lovingly how she did - or give her a ribbon - and now-and-then, though only when it could be done with decorum, would give her a -
Things stood in this situation for five years; from the demolition of Dunkirk in 1713, to the end of my uncle Toby's campaign in 1718. Trim, after he had put my uncle Toby to bed as usual, was going one moonshiny night to see that everything was right at his fortifications, when in the lane separated from the bowling-green with flowering shrubs he espied his Bridget.
As the corporal thought there was nothing in the world so well worth showing her as the glorious works which he and my uncle Toby had made, he courteously took her hand, and led her in.
But the foul-mouthed trumpet of Fame carried a report of this from ear to ear, till at length it reached my father - along with this strange circumstance, that my uncle Toby's Dutch drawbridge, which went across the ditch, was somehow broken and crushed all to pieces that very night.
My father, as you have observed, had no great esteem for my uncle Toby's hobby-horse; he thought it the most ridiculous horse that ever gentleman mounted. So this accident tickled my father's imagination beyond measure, and proved an inexhaustible fund of entertainment to him.
'Well - dear Toby!' my father would say, 'do tell me how this affair of the bridge happened.'
'How can you tease me so about it?' my uncle Toby would reply. 'I have told you twenty times, word for word as Trim told me.'
'Prithee, how was it then, corporal?' my father would cry, turning to Trim.
'It was a mere misfortune, your honour; I was showing Mrs. Bridget our fortifications, and going too near the edge of the ditch, I unfortunately slipped in. And being linked arm in arm with Mrs. Bridget, I dragged her after me, and she fell backwards against the bridge-'
'- and Trim's foot' (my uncle Toby would cry) 'getting into the cuvette, he tumbled against the bridge too. It was fortunate that the poor fellow did not break his leg.'
'Ay truly,' my father would say, 'a limb is soon broke in such encounters.'
'And so, your honour, the bridge, which was a very slight one, was broke down betwixt us, and splintered all to pieces.'
At other times, when my uncle Toby was so unfortunate as to say a syllable about cannons or bombs, my father would expound upon the Battering-Rams of the ancients. - He would tell my uncle Toby of the Syrian Catapults, which threw such monstrous stones so many hundred feet, that they shook the strongest bulwarks to their very foundation: he would describe the wonderful mechanism of the Ballista - the terrible effects of the fire-hurling Pyroboli - the danger of the Terebra and Scorpio.
'But what are these,' he would say, 'to the destructive machinery of corporal Trim? No bridge that ever was constructed can hold out against such artillery.'
My uncle Toby would never attempt any defence against this ridicule, except by smoking his pipe with redoubled vehemence. In doing this, he raised so dense a smoke one night, that it set my father into a fit of violent coughing.
My uncle Toby leaped up without feeling the pain in his groin - and, with infinite pity, stood beside his brother, tapping his back, and holding his head, and from time to time wiping his eyes with a clean handkerchief. The affectionate manner in which he did this cut my father to the quick for the pain he had just been giving him.
'May my brains be knocked out with a battering-ram,' quoth my father to himself, 'if ever I insult this worthy soul again!'
Book 3 - Chapter 24