Zounds! ------------------------------------------------------------- -------------------------------------------------------------------- ------------Z------ds! cried _Phutatorius_, partly to himself----and yet high enough to be heard--and what seemed odd, 'twas uttered in a construction of look, and in a tone of voice, somewhat between that of a man in amazement and one in bodily pain.
One or two who had very nice ears, and could distinguish the expression and mixture of the two tones as plainly as a _third_ or a _fifth_, or any other chord in musick--were the most puzzled and perplexed with it--the concord was good in itself--but then 'twas quite out of the key, and no way applicable to the subject started; ----so that with all their knowledge, they could not tell what in the world to make of it.
Others who knew nothing of musical expression, and merely lent their ears to the plain import of the _word_, imagined that _Phutatorius_, who was somewhat of a cholerick spirit, was just going to snatch the cudgels out of _Didius's_ hands, in order to bemaul _Yorick_ to some purpose--and that the desperate monosyllable Z------ds was the exordium to an oration, which, as they judged from the sample, presaged but a rough kind of handling of him; so that my uncle _Toby's_ good-nature felt a pang for what _Yorick_ was about to undergo. But seeing _Phutatorius_ stop short, without any attempt or desire to go on--a third party began to suppose, that it was no more than an involuntary respiration, casually forming itself into the shape of a twelve-penny oath--without the sin or substance of one.
Others, and especially one or two who sat next him, looked upon it on the contrary as a real and substantial oath, propensly formed against _Yorick_, to whom he was known to bear no good liking--which said oath, as my father philosophized upon it, actually lay fretting and fuming at that very time in the upper regions of _Phutatorius's_ purtenance; and so was naturally, and according to the due course of things, first squeezed out by the sudden influx of blood which was driven into the right ventricle of _Phutatorius's_ heart, by the stroke of surprize which so strange a theory of preaching had excited.
How finely we argue upon mistaken facts!
There was not a soul busied in all these various reasonings upon the monosyllable which _Phutatorius_ uttered----who did not take this for granted, proceeding upon it as from an axiom, namely, that _Phutatorius's_ mind was intent upon the subject of debate which was arising between _Didius_ and _Yorick_; and indeed as he looked first towards the one and then towards the other, with the air of a man listening to what was going forwards--who would not have thought the same? But the truth was, that _Phutatorius_ knew not one word or one syllable of what was passing--but his whole thoughts and attention were taken up with a transaction which was going forwards at that very instant within the precincts of his own _Galligaskins_, and in a part of them, where of all others he stood most interested to watch accidents: So that notwithstanding he looked with all the attention in the world, and had gradually skrewed up every nerve and muscle in his face, to the utmost pitch the instrument would bear, in order, as it was thought, to give a sharp reply to _Yorick_, who sat over-against him----yet, I say, was _Yorick_ never once in any one domicile of _Phutatorius's_ brain----but the true cause of his exclamation lay at least a yard below.
This I will endeavour to explain to you with all imaginable decency.
You must be informed then, that _Gastripheres_, who had taken a turn into the kitchen a little before dinner, to see how things went on--observing a wicker-basket of fine chesnuts standing upon the dresser, had ordered that a hundred or two of them might be roasted and sent in, as soon as dinner was over---- _Gastripheres_ inforcing his orders about them, that _Didius_, but _Phutatorius_ especially, were particularly fond of 'em.
About two minutes before the time that my uncle _Toby_ interrupted _Yorick's_ harangue--_Gastripheres's_ chesnuts were brought in--and as _Phutatorius's_ fondness for 'em was uppermost in the waiter's head, he laid them directly before _Phutatorius_, wrapt up hot in a clean damask napkin.
Now whether it was physically impossible, with half a dozen hands all thrust into the napkin at a time--but that some one chesnut, of more life and rotundity than the rest, must be put in motion--it so fell out, however, that one was actually sent rolling off the table; and as _Phutatorius_ sat straddling under----it fell perpendicularly into that particular aperture of _Phutatorius's_ breeches, for which, to the shame and indelicacy of our language be it spoke, there is no chaste word throughout all _Johnson's_ dictionary----let it suffice to say----it was that particular aperture which, in all good societies, the laws of decorum do strictly require, like the temple of _Janus_ (in peace at least) to be universally shut up.
The neglect of this punctilio in _Phutatorius_ (which by the bye should be a warning to all mankind) had opened a door to this accident.----
Accident I call it, in compliance to a received mode of speaking------but in no opposition to the opinion either of _Acrites_ or _Mythogeras_ in this matter; I know they were both prepossessed and fully persuaded of it--and are so to this hour, That there was nothing of accident in the whole event----but that the chesnut's taking that particular course and in a manner of its own accord--and then falling with all its heat directly into that one particular place, and no other----was a real judgment upon _Phutatorius_, for that filthy and obscene treatise _de Concubinis retinendis_, which _Phutatorius_ had published about twenty years ago----and was that identical week going to give the world a second edition of.
It is not my business to dip my pen in this controversy----much undoubtedly may be wrote on both sides of the question--all that concerns me as an historian, is to represent the matter of fact, and render it credible to the reader, that the hiatus in _Phutatorius's_ breeches was sufficiently wide to receive the chesnut; ----and that the chesnut, somehow or other, did fall perpendicularly and piping hot into it, without _Phutatorius's_ perceiving it, or any one else at that time.
The genial warmth which the chesnut imparted, was not undelectable for the first twenty or five-and-twenty seconds----and did no more than gently solicit _Phutatorius's_ attention towards the part: ------But the heat gradually increasing, and in a few seconds more getting beyond the point of all sober pleasure, and then advancing with all speed into the regions of pain, the soul of _Phutatorius_, together with all his ideas, his thoughts, his attention, his imagination, judgment, resolution, deliberation, ratiocination, memory, fancy, with ten battalions of animal spirits, all tumultuously crowded down, through different defiles and circuits, to the place of danger, leaving all his upper regions, as you may imagine, as empty as my purse.
With the best intelligence which all these messengers could bring him back, _Phutatorius_ was not able to dive into the secret of what was going forwards below, nor could he make any kind of conjecture, what the devil was the matter with it: However, as he knew not what the true cause might turn out, he deemed it most prudent, in the situation he was in at present, to bear it, if possible, like a Stoick; which, with the help of some wry faces and compursions of the mouth, he had certainly accomplished, had his imagination continued neuter; ----but the sallies of the imagination are ungovernable in things of this kind--a thought instantly darted into his mind, that tho' the anguish had the sensation of glowing heat--it might, notwithstanding that, be a bite as well as a burn; and if so, that possibly a _Newt_ or an _Asker_, or some such detested reptile, had crept up, and was fastening his teeth----the horrid idea of which, with a fresh glow of pain arising that instant from the chesnut, seized _Phutatorius_ with a sudden panick, and in the first terrifying disorder of the passion, it threw him, as it has done the best generals upon earth, quite off his guard: ----the effect of which was this, that he leapt incontinently up, uttering as he rose that interjection of surprise so much descanted upon, with the aposiopestic break after it, marked thus, Z------ds--which, though not strictly canonical, was still as little as any man could have said upon the occasion; ------and which, by the bye, whether canonical or not, _Phutatorius_ could no more help than he could the cause of it.
Though this has taken up some time in the narrative, it took up little more time in the transaction, than just to allow for _Phutatorius_ to draw forth the chesnut, and throw it down with violence upon the floor--and for _Yorick_ to rise from his chair, and pick the chesnut up.
It is curious to observe the triumph of slight incidents over the mind: ----What incredible weight they have in forming and governing our opinions, both of men and things----that trifles, light as air, shall waft a belief into the soul, and plant it so immoveably within it----that _Euclid's_ demonstrations, could they be brought to batter it in breach, should not all have power to overthrow it.
_Yorick_, I said, picked up the chesnut which _Phutatorius's_ wrath had flung down----the action was trifling ----I am ashamed to account for it--he did it, for no reason, but that he thought the chesnut not a jot worse for the adventure--and that he held a good chesnut worth stooping for. ------But this incident, trifling as it was, wrought differently in _Phutatorius's_ head: He considered this act of _Yorick's_ in getting off his chair and picking up the chesnut, as a plain acknowledgment in him, that the chesnut was originally his--and in course, that it must have been the owner of the chesnut, and no one else, who could have played him such a prank with it: What greatly confirmed him in this opinion, was this, that the table being parallelogramical and very narrow, it afforded a fair opportunity for _Yorick_, who sat directly over against _Phutatorius_, of slipping the chesnut in----and consequently that he did it. The look of something more than suspicion, which _Phutatorius_ cast full upon _Yorick_ as these thoughts arose, too evidently spoke his opinion----and as _Phutatorius_ was naturally supposed to know more of the matter than any person besides, his opinion at once became the general one; ----and for a reason very different from any which have been yet given----in a little time it was put out of all manner of dispute.
When great or unexpected events fall out upon the stage of this sublunary world----the mind of man, which is an inquisitive kind of substance, naturally takes a flight behind the scenes to see what is the cause and first spring of them. --The search was not long in this instance.
It was well known that _Yorick_ had never a good opinion of the treatise which _Phutatorius_ had wrote _de Concubinis retinendis_, as a thing which he feared had done hurt in the world----and 'twas easily found out, that there was a mystical meaning in _Yorick's_ prank--and that his chucking the chesnut hot into _Phutatorius's_ ***----*****, was a sarcastical fling at his book--the doctrines of which, they said, had enflamed many an honest man in the same place.
This conceit awaken'd _Somnolentus_----made _Agelastes_ smile----and if you can recollect the precise look and air of a man's face intent in finding out a riddle------it threw _Gastripheres's_ into that form--and in short was thought by many to be a master-stroke of arch-wit.
This, as the reader has seen from one end to the other, was as groundless as the dreams of philosophy: _Yorick_, no doubt, as _Shakespeare_ said of his ancestor------ "_was a man of jest_," but it was temper'd with something which withheld him from that, and many other ungracious pranks, of which he as undeservedly bore the blame; --but it was his misfortune all his life long to bear the imputation of saying and doing a thousand things, of which (unless my esteem blinds me) his nature was incapable. All I blame him for----or rather, all I blame and alternately like him for, was that singularity of his temper, which would never suffer him to take pains to set a story right with the world, however in his power. In every ill usage of that sort, he acted precisely as in the affair of his lean horse----he could have explained it to his honour, but his spirit was above it; and besides, he ever looked upon the inventor, the propagator and believer of an illiberal report alike so injurious to him--he could not stoop to tell his story to them--and so trusted to time and truth to do it for him.
This heroic cast produced him inconveniences in many respects--in the present it was followed by the fixed resentment of _Phutatorius_, who, as _Yorick_ had just made an end of his chesnut, rose up from his chair a second time, to let him know it--which indeed he did with a smile; saying only--that he would endeavour not to forget the obligation.
But you must mark and carefully separate and distinguish these two things in your mind.
----The smile was for the company.
----The threat was for _Yorick_.

'Zounds! --------- --------- ------------ -------- ---------- ------------ --------- Z-----ds!' cried Phutatorius, partly to himself, yet high enough to be heard, in a tone between amazement and bodily pain.
One or two could distinguish the mixture of the two tones as plainly as a fifth chord in music - but they could not tell what in the world to make of it.
Others imagined that Phutatorius, who was short-tempered, was about to take the cudgels from Didius and attack Yorick - and that the desperate monosyllable Z------ds was the introduction to a forceful speech. But seeing Phutatorius stop short, they then supposed that it was no more than an involuntary breath, casually forming itself into an oath - without the sin of one.
Those who sat next to him looked upon it, on the contrary, as a real oath against Yorick, whom he was known to not like - this oath being squeezed out by the surprise which so strange a theory of preaching had given him.
How finely we argue upon mistaken facts!
Everybody there assumed that Phutatorius's mind was intent upon the debate between Didius and Yorick; and indeed he looked first towards the one and then the other, with the air of a man listening.
But the truth was, that Phutatorius knew not one word of what was passing - his thoughts were taken up with something which was happening at that very instant within his own breeches, and in a part of them where he was most interested. So although he looked with all the attention in the world, and had screwed up every muscle in his face, - yet the true cause of his exclamation lay a yard below.
This I will try to explain with decency.
Gastripheres, who had wandered into the kitchen before dinner, to see how things went on - observing a wicker-basket of fine chestnuts standing upon the dresser, had ordered that a hundred of them might be roasted and sent in after dinner, because Didius, and Phutatorius especially, were fond of 'em.
The chestnuts were brought in - and as Phutatorius's fondness for 'em was uppermost in the waiter's head, he laid them directly before Phutatorius, wrapped up hot in a clean damask napkin.
Now, one chestnut, of more life and rotundity than the rest, must have been put in motion - it was sent rolling off the table; and as Phutatorius sat straddled under - it fell straight into that particular opening of Phutatorius's breeches, for which there is no chaste word in Johnson's dictionary. Let it suffice to say - it was that opening which, in all good societies, the laws of decorum strictly require to be shut up.
Phutatorius's neglect of this rule had opened a door to this accident.
- Accident I call it; but Acrites and Mythogeras were both sure that there was no accident in it - but that the hot chestnut's falling directly into that particular place was a judgment upon Phutatorius, for his filthy treatise de Concubinis retinendis, which he had published about twenty years earlier, and was that week going to give the world a second edition of.
It is not my business to dip my pen in this controversy - all that concerns me is the fact that the gap in Phutatorius's breeches was wide enough to receive the chestnut; which somehow or other fell piping hot into it, without anyone noticing.
The genial warmth of the chestnut was not unpleasant for the first twenty seconds or so - and did no more than gently call Phutatorius's attention to the part.
But the heat increasing speedily into the regions of pain, the soul of Phutatorius, together with his thoughts, attention and judgment, all tumultuously crowded down to the place of danger, leaving his upper regions as empty as my purse.
Phutatorius had no idea of what was going on below, nor could he make any guess what the devil was the matter. However, he deemed it most prudent, in the situation he was in, to bear it, if possible, like a Stoic; which, with the help of some wry faces, he had certainly accomplished.
But then the thought darted into his mind, that though the anguish felt like heat, it might just as likely be a bite as a burn; and that possibly some detested reptile had crept up, and was fastening its teeth in him - a horrid idea which seized Phutatorius with a sudden panic, and threw him quite off his guard.
The effect was that he leapt up, uttering that Z------ds - which was the least any man could have said upon the occasion.
Drawing forth the chestnut, he threw it down violently upon the floor - and Yorick picked it up.
It is curious to observe the triumph of slight incidents over the mind: - what incredible weight they have in forming our opinions, - so that trifles, light as air, waft a belief into the soul, and plant it immoveably within.
Yorick, as I said, picked up the chestnut - the action was trifling - he did it, for no reason, but that a good chestnut was worth stooping for.
But this incident, trifling as it was, worked differently in Phutatorius's head. He considered Yorick's act as a plain acknowledgment that the chestnut was originally his - and that it must have been Yorick who had played him a prank. The table being very narrow, it gave Yorick, who sat opposite him, the opportunity of slipping the chestnut in - and consequently Phutatorius assumed he did it.
The look of suspicion which Phutatorius gave Yorick spoke his opinion - and as Phutatorius was naturally supposed to know more of the matter than any other person, his opinion at once became the general one.
And naturally, men looked for the cause of this. - The search was not long.
It was well known that Yorick had never a good opinion of Phutatorius's treatise, de Concubinis retinendis - and 'twas decided that there was a mystical meaning in Yorick's prank, and that his chucking the hot chestnut into Phutatorius's breeches was a sarcastical fling at his book - the doctrines of which had enflamed many an honest man in the same place.
This idea was thought by many to be a master-stroke of arch-wit.
This, as the reader has seen, was groundless: though Yorick was 'a man of jest,' his nature withheld him from that, and many other pranks, of which he undeservedly bore the blame. It was his misfortune all his life to bear the blame of a thousand things, of which he was incapable. All I blame him for - and also like him for - was that he would never set a story right with the world, even if he could. In every ill usage of that sort, he acted precisely as in the affair of his lean horse - he could have explained it to his honour, but he would not stoop to tell his story to those who believed ungenerous reports. He trusted to time and truth to do it for him.
This heroic cast of mind often inconvenienced him; here it was followed by the fixed resentment of Phutatorius, who rose up from his chair with a smile; saying that he would not forget the obligation.
- The smile was for the company.
- The threat was for Yorick.


_Calais_, _Calatium_, _Calusium_, _Calesium_.
This town, if we may trust its archives, the authority of which I see no reason to call in question in this place--was _once_ no more than a small village belonging to one of the first Counts de _Guignes_; and as it boasts at present of no less than fourteen thousand inhabitants, exclusive of four hundred and twenty distinct families in the _basse ville_, or suburbs----it must have grown up by little and little, I suppose, to its present size.
Though there are four convents, there is but one parochial church in the whole town; I had not an opportunity of taking its exact dimensions, but it is pretty easy to make a tolerable conjecture of 'em--for as there are fourteen thousand inhabitants in the town, if the church holds them all it must be considerably large--and if it will not--'tis a very great pity they have not another--it is built in form of a cross, and dedicated to the Virgin _Mary_; the steeple, which has a spire to it, is placed in the middle of the church, and stands upon four pillars elegant and light enough, but sufficiently strong at the same time--it is decorated with eleven altars, most of which are rather fine than beautiful. The great altar is a masterpiece in its kind; 'tis of white marble, and, as I was told, near sixty feet high--had it been much higher, it had been as high as mount _Calvary_ itself--therefore, I suppose it must be high enough in all conscience.
There was nothing struck me more than the great _Square_; tho' I cannot say 'tis either well paved or well built; but 'tis in the heart of the town, and most of the streets, especially those in that quarter, all terminate in it; could there have been a fountain in all _Calais_, which it seems there cannot, as such an object would have been a great ornament, it is not to be doubted, but that the inhabitants would have had it in the very centre of this square, --not that it is properly a square, --because 'tis forty feet longer from east to west, than from north to south; so that the _French_ in general have more reason on their side in calling them _Places_ than _Squares_, which, strictly speaking, to be sure, they are not.
The town-house seems to be but a sorry building, and not to be kept in the best repair; otherwise it had been a second great ornament to this place; it answers however its destination, and serves very well for the reception of the magistrates, who assemble in it from time to time; so that 'tis presumable, justice is regularly distributed.
I have heard much of it, but there is nothing at all curious in the _Courgain_; 'tis a distinct quarter of the town, inhabited solely by sailors and fishermen; it consists of a number of small streets, neatly built and mostly of brick; 'tis extremely populous, but as that may be accounted for, from the principles of their diet, --there is nothing curious in that neither. ----A traveller may see it to satisfy himself--he must not omit however taking notice of _La Tour de Guet_, upon any account; 'tis so called from its particular destination, because in war it serves to discover and give notice of the enemies which approach the place, either by sea or land; ----but 'tis monstrous high, and catches the eye so continually, you cannot avoid taking notice of it if you would.
It was a singular disappointment to me, that I could not have permission to take an exact survey of the fortifications, which are the strongest in the world, and which, from first to last, that is, from the time they were set about by _Philip_ of _France_, Count of _Boulogne_, to the present war, wherein many reparations were made, have cost (as I learned afterwards from an engineer in _Gascony_)--above a hundred millions of livres. It is very remarkable, that at the _Tte de Gravelenes_, and where the town is naturally the weakest, they have expended the most money; so that the out-works stretch a great way into the campaign, and consequently occupy a large tract of ground --However, after all that is _said_ and _done_, it must be acknowledged that _Calais_ was never upon any account so considerable from itself, as from its situation, and that easy entrance which it gave our ancestors, upon all occasions, into _France_: it was not without its inconveniences also; being no less troublesome to the _English_ in those times, than _Dunkirk_ has been to us, in ours; so that it was deservedly looked upon as the key to both kingdoms, which no doubt is the reason that there have arisen so many contentions who should keep it: of these, the siege of _Calais_, or rather the blockade (for it was shut up both by land and sea), was the most memorable, as it withstood the efforts of _Edward_ the Third a whole year, and was not terminated at last but by famine and extreme misery; the gallantry of _Eustace de St. Pierre_, who first offered himself a victim for his fellow-citizens, has rank'd his name with heroes. As it will not take up above fifty pages, it would be injustice to the reader, not to give him a minute account of that romantic transaction, as well as of the siege itself, in _Rapin's_ own words:

Calais, Calatium, Calusium, Calesium.
This town, if we may trust its archives, was once a small village belonging to the Count de Guignes; and as it now boasts fourteen thousand inhabitants, as well as four hundred and twenty families in the suburbs, it must have grown up little by little, I suppose, to its present size.
Though there are four convents, there is but one parish church in the whole town; I had not an opportunity of taking its dimensions, but it is pretty easy to make a guess at 'em - for as there are fourteen thousand inhabitants in the town, if the church holds them all it must be considerably large - and if it will not, 'tis a pity they have not another. It is built in the form of a cross, and dedicated to the Virgin Mary; the steeple, which has a spire, is in the middle of the church, and stands upon four pillars elegant and light enough, but also strong. It is decorated with eleven altars, fine rather than beautiful. The great altar is a masterpiece in its kind; 'tis of white marble, and, I was told, near sixty feet high.
There was nothing struck me more than the great Square, tho' I cannot say 'tis either well paved or well built; but 'tis in the heart of the town, and most of the streets around there terminate in it. Could there have been a fountain, which it seems there cannot, it would have doubtless been a great ornament in the centre of this square, - not that it is properly a square, because 'tis forty feet longer from east to west, than from north to south; so that the French are right to call them Places rather than Squares, which, strictly speaking, they are not.
The town-hall seems to be but a sorry building, and not in the best repair; however it serves very well for the magistrates, who assemble in it from time to time to distribute justice.
Although I have heard much of it, there is nothing at all curious in the Courgain; 'tis a quarter inhabited solely by sailors and fishermen, consisting of a number of small streets, neatly built of brick; 'tis extremely populous, but there is nothing curious in that either. - A traveller may see it to satisfy himself - however he must not on any account omit seeing La Tour de Guet; 'tis so called because in war it serves to give warning of approaching enemies - but 'tis monstrous high, and catches the eye so continually, you cannot avoid noticing it.
It was a singular disappointment to me that I could not take an exact survey of the fortifications, which are the strongest in the world, and which, since they were started by Philip, Count of Boulogne, have cost (as I learned from an engineer in Gascony) above a hundred million livres. It is very remarkable that where the town is naturally the weakest, they have expended the most money; so that the out-works stretch a great way, and occupy a large area of ground.
However, when all is said and done, it must be acknowledged that Calais was never so important in itself, as from its situation, which gave our ancestors easy entrance into France. It was no less troublesome to the English in those times, than Dunkirk has been in ours; so that it was looked upon as the key to both kingdoms, which no doubt is the reason that there have arisen so many contentions about who should keep it.
Of these, the siege of Calais, or rather the blockade, was the most memorable, as it withstood the efforts of Edward the Third a whole year, and was only ended at last by famine and extreme misery. The gallantry of Eustace de St. Pierre, who offered himself as a victim for his fellow-citizens, has ranked his name with heroes. As it will not take up above fifty pages, it would be unjust to the reader not to give him a detailed account of that romantic story, as well as of the siege itself, in Rapin's own words:


----Then, _Yorick_, replied my uncle _Toby_, you and I will lead the way abreast, ----and do you, corporal, follow a few paces behind us. ----And _Susannah_, an' please your honour, said _Trim_, shall be put in the rear. ----'Twas an excellent disposition, --and in this order, without either drums beating, or colours flying, they marched slowly from my uncle _Toby's_ house to _Shandy-hall_.
----I wish, said _Trim_, as they entered the door, --instead of the sash weights, I had cut off the church spout, as I once thought to have done. --You have cut off spouts enow, replied _Yorick_.----

'Then, Yorick,' replied my uncle, 'you and I will lead the way, and you, corporal, follow a few paces behind us.'
'And Susannah, an' please your honour,' said Trim, 'shall be put in the rear.'
In this order, without either drums beating, or colours flying, they marched slowly from my uncle Toby's house to Shandy-Hall.
'I wish,' said Trim, as they entered, 'instead of the sash weights, I had cut off the church spout, as I once thought to have done.'
- 'You have cut off spouts enough,' replied Yorick.


----But to return to my mother.
My uncle _Toby's_ opinion, Madam, "that there could be no harm in _Cornelius Gallus_, the _Roman_ prtor's lying with his wife;" ----or rather the last word of that opinion, --(for it was all my mother heard of it) caught hold of her by the weak part of the whole sex: ----You shall not mistake me, --I mean her curiosity, --she instantly concluded herself the subject of the conversation, and with that prepossession upon her fancy, you will readily conceive every word my father said, was accommodated either to herself, or her family concerns.
----Pray, Madam, in what street does the lady live, who would not have done the same?
From the strange mode of _Cornelius's_ death, my father had made a transition to that of _Socrates_, and was giving my uncle _Toby_ an abstract of his pleading before his judges; ----'twas irresistible: ----not the oration of _Socrates_, --but my father's temptation to it. ----He had wrote the Life of _Socrates_[5.1] himself the year before he left off trade, which, I fear, was the means of hastening him out of it; ----so that no one was able to set out with so full a sail, and in so swelling a tide of heroic loftiness upon the occasion, as my father was. Not a period in _Socrates's_ oration, which closed with a shorter word than _transmigration_, or _annihilation_, --or a worse thought in the middle of it than _to be--or not to be_, --the entering upon a new and untried state of things, --or, upon a long, a profound and peaceful sleep, without dreams, without disturbance? ----_That we and our children were born to die, --but neither of us born to be slaves_. ----No--there I mistake; that was part of _Eleazer's_ oration, as recorded by _Josephus_ (_de Bell. Judaic._)----_Eleazer_ owns he had it from the philosophers of _India_; in all likelihood _Alexander_ the Great, in his irruption into _India_, after he had over-run _Persia_, amongst the many things he stole, --stole that sentiment also; by which means it was carried, if not all the way by himself (for we all know he died at _Babylon_), at least by some of his maroders, into _Greece_, --from _Greece_ it got to _Rome_, --from _Rome_ to _France_, --and from _France_ to _England_: ----So things come round.----
By land carriage, I can conceive no other way.----
By water the sentiment might easily have come down the _Ganges_ into the _Sinus Gangeticus_, or _Bay of Bengal_, and so into the _Indian Sea_; and following the course of trade (the way from _India_ by the _Cape of Good Hope_ being then unknown), might be carried with other drugs and spices up the _Red Sea_ to _Joddah_, the port of _Mekka_, or else to _Tor_ or _Sues_, towns at the bottom of the gulf; and from thence by karrawans to _Coptos_, but three days' journey distant, so down the _Nile_ directly to _Alexandria_, where the SENTIMENT would be landed at the very foot of the great stair-case of the _Alexandrian_ library, ----and from that store-house it would be fetched. ------Bless me! what a trade was driven by the learned in those days!
[Footnote 5.1: This book my father would never consent to publish; 'tis in manuscript, with some other tracts of his, in the family, all, or most of which will be printed in due time.]

But to return to my mother.
My uncle Toby's opinion, Madam, 'that there could be no harm in Cornelius Gallus, the Roman praetor's lying with his wife;' - or rather the last word of it (for that was all my mother heard) caught hold of her by the weak part of the whole sex.
- Do not mistake me; I mean her curiosity. She instantly concluded that she was the subject of the conversation; and every word my father said, she applied to herself.
Pray, Madam, what lady would not have done the same?
From Cornelius's death, my father had gone on to that of Socrates, and was giving my uncle Toby an outline of his pleading before his judges; 'twas irresistible - not the speech of Socrates, but my father's temptation to it. He had wrote the Life of Socrates himself the year before he left off trade, which, I fear, was the means of hastening him out of it.
So no one was able to set out with so full a sail, and on so swelling a tide of heroic loftiness upon the subject, as my father. Not a line in Socrates's speech ended with a shorter word than annihilation; there was not a worse thought in it than to be - or not to be - the entering upon a new and untried state of things, - or was it upon a profound and peaceful sleep, without disturbance? That we and our children were born to die - but not born to be slaves - no - there I mistake; that was part of Eleazer's oration, as recorded by Josephus, which Eleazer had from the philosophers of India; in all likelihood Alexander the Great, in his invasion of India, stole that sentiment, amongst other things; so that it was carried, if not by himself (for we all know he died at Babylon), by some of his marauders, to Greece, then Rome, then France, and thence to England. So things come round.
By land carriage; I can conceive no other way.
By water the sentiment might easily have come down the Ganges into the Bay of Bengal, and so into the Indian Sea; and following the course of trade (the route by the Cape of Good Hope being then unknown), it might be carried with spices up the Red Sea to Joddah, or Sues, and from thence by caravans to Coptos, three days' journey distant, and so down the Nile directly to Alexandria, where the Sentiment would be landed at the very foot of the great stair-case of the Alexandrian library. Bless me! what a trade was driven by the learned in those days!
[Note: My father's work on Socrates, which he never published, is in manuscript, with some other tracts which will be printed in due time.]


'Tis a pity, cried my father one winter's night, after a three hours' painful translation of _Slawkenbergius_----'tis a pity, cried my father, putting my mother's thread-paper into the book for a mark, as he spoke----that truth, brother _Toby_, should shut herself up in such impregnable fastnesses, and be so obstinate as not to surrender herself sometimes up upon the closest siege.----
Now it happened then, as indeed it had often done before, that my uncle _Toby's_ fancy, during the time of my father's explanation of _Prignitz_ to him------having nothing to stay it there, had taken a short flight to the bowling-green! ------his body might as well have taken a turn there too--so that with all the semblance of a deep school-man intent upon the _medius terminus_------my uncle _Toby_ was in fact as ignorant of the whole lecture, and all its pros and cons, as if my father had been translating _Hafen Slawkenbergius_ from the _Latin_ tongue into the _Cherokee_. But the word _siege_, like a talismanic power, in my father's metaphor, wafting back my uncle _Toby's_ fancy, quick as a note could follow the touch--he open'd his ears----and my father observing that he took his pipe out of his mouth, and shuffled his chair nearer the table, as with a desire to profit--my father with great pleasure began his sentence again----changing only the plan, and dropping the metaphor of the siege of it, to keep clear of some dangers my father apprehended from it.
'Tis a pity, said my father, that truth can only be on one side, brother _Toby_------considering what ingenuity these learned men have all shewn in their solutions of noses. ----Can noses be dissolved? replied my uncle _Toby_.
------My father thrust back his chair------rose up--put on his hat------took four long strides to the door------jerked it open----thrust his head half way out----shut the door again----took no notice of the bad hinge----returned to the table--pluck'd my mother's thread-paper out of _Slawkenbergius's_ book------went hastily to his bureau--walked slowly back--twisted my mother's thread-paper about his thumb--unbutton'd his waistcoat--threw my mother's thread-paper into the fire----bit her sattin pin-cushion in two, fill'd his mouth with bran--confounded it; --but mark! --the oath of confusion was levell'd at my uncle _Toby's_ brain--which was e'en confused enough already----the curse came charged only with the bran--the bran, may it please your honours, was no more than powder to the ball.
'Twas well my father's passions lasted not long; for so long as they did last, they led him a busy life on't; and it is one of the most unaccountable problems that ever I met with in my observations of human nature, that nothing should prove my father's mettle so much, or make his passions go off so like gunpowder, as the unexpected strokes his science met with from the quaint simplicity of my uncle _Toby's_ questions. ----Had ten dozen of hornets stung him behind in so many different places all at one time--he could not have exerted more mechanical functions in fewer seconds------or started half so much, as with one single _qure_ of three words unseasonably popping in full upon him in his hobby-horsical career.
'Twas all one to my uncle _Toby_------he smoaked his pipe on with unvaried composure----his heart never intended offence to his brother--and as his head could seldom find out where the sting of it lay----he always gave my father the credit of cooling by himself. ----He was five minutes and thirty-five seconds about it in the present case.
By all that's good! said my father, swearing, as he came to himself, and taking the oath out of _Ernulphus's_ digest of curses----(though to do my father justice it was a fault (as he told Dr. _Slop_ in the affair of _Ernulphus_) which he as seldom committed as any man upon earth) ------By all that's good and great! brother _Toby_, said my father, if it was not for the aids of philosophy, which befriend one so much as they do--you would put a man beside all temper. ----Why, by the _solutions_ of noses, of which I was telling you, I meant, as you might have known, had you favoured me with one grain of attention, the various accounts which learned men of different kinds of knowledge have given the world of the causes of short and long noses. ----There is no cause but one, replied my uncle _Toby_----why one man's nose is longer than another's, but because that God pleases to have it so. ----That is _Grangousier's_ solution, said my father. --'Tis he, continued my uncle _Toby_, looking up, and not regarding my father's interruption, who makes us all, and frames and puts us together in such forms and proportions, and for such ends, as is agreeable to his infinite wisdom. ----'Tis a pious account, cried my father, but not philosophical----there is more religion in it than sound science. 'Twas no inconsistent part of my uncle _Toby's_ character----that he feared God, and reverenced religion. ----So the moment my father finished his remark----my uncle _Toby_ fell a whistling _Lillabullero_ with more zeal (though more out of tune) than usual.--
What is become of my wife's thread-paper?

''Tis a pity,' cried my father one winter's night, after three hours' painful translation of Slawkenbergius - ''tis a pity that truth, brother Toby, should shut herself up in such impregnable fortresses, and not surrender under the closest siege.'
Now it happened then, as indeed it had often done before, that my uncle Toby's thoughts, during my father's explanation of Prignitz, had taken a short flight to the bowling-green! His body might as well have taken a turn there too - for with all the appearance of being intent on the argument, my uncle Toby was in fact as ignorant of the whole lecture as if my father had been translating Slawkenbergius from Latin into Cherokee.
But the word siege, like a talismanic power, wafted through my uncle Toby's fancy - he opened his ears - and my father, observing that he took his pipe out of his mouth, and shuffled his chair nearer the table, - my father with great pleasure began his sentence again, only dropping the metaphor of the siege, to keep clear of some dangers he foresaw from it.
''Tis a pity,' said my father, 'that truth can only be on one side, brother, considering what ingenuity these learned men have all shown in their solutions of noses.'
'Solutions? Can then noses be dissolved?' replied my uncle Toby.
My father thrust back his chair - rose up - took four long strides to the door - jerked it open - shut it again - went hastily to his bureau - walked slowly back - threw his bookmark into the fire - bit my mother's satin pin-cushion in two, filling his mouth with bran - confounded it - but mark! the oath of confusion was levelled at my uncle Toby's brain, which was confused enough already.
'Twas well my father's passions lasted not long; for so long as they did last, they led him a busy life; and nothing made his passions go off so like gunpowder, as the unexpected blows his science met with from the quaint simplicity of my uncle Toby's questions. Had ten dozen hornets stung him all at once, they could not have startled him half so much as one single query unseasonably popping in full upon him in his hobby-horsical career.
'Twas all one to my uncle Toby - he smoked his pipe on with unvaried composure - he never intended offence to his brother - and as he could seldom find out where the sting lay, he always gave my father the chance of cooling by himself. My father took five minutes and thirty-five seconds on this occasion.
'By all that's good, brother Toby!' said he, eventually. 'Why, by the solutions of noses, I meant, as you might have known, had you favoured me with one grain of attention, the various accounts which learned men give of the causes of short and long noses.'
'There is no cause but one,' replied my uncle, 'why one man's nose is longer than another's: because God pleases to have it so.'
'That is Grangousier's solution,' said my father.
''Tis he,' continued my uncle Toby, 'who makes us all, and puts us together in such proportions as is agreeable to his infinite wisdom.'
''Tis a pious account,' cried my father, 'but not philosophical - there is more religion in it than science.'
Now my uncle Toby feared God, and reverenced religion. So the moment my father finished his remark, my uncle Toby fell a-whistling Lillabullero with more zeal (though more out of tune) than usual.


When Corporal _Trim_ had brought his two mortars to bear, he was delighted with his handy-work above measure; and knowing what a pleasure it would be to his master to see them, he was not able to resist the desire he had of carrying them directly into his parlour.
Now next to the moral lesson I had in view in mentioning the affair of _hinges_, I had a speculative consideration arising out of it, and it is this.
Had the parlour door opened and turn'd upon its hinges, as a door should do--
Or for example, as cleverly as our government has been turning upon its hinges----(that is, in case things have all along gone well with your worship, --otherwise I give up my simile)--in this case, I say, there had been no danger either to master or man, in Corporal _Trim's_ peeping in: the moment he had beheld my father and my uncle _Toby_ fast asleep--the respectfulness of his carriage was such, he would have retired as silent as death, and left them both in their arm-chairs, dreaming as happy as he had found them: but the thing was, morally speaking, so very impracticable, that for the many years in which this hinge was suffered to be out of order, and amongst the hourly grievances my father submitted to upon its account--this was one; that he never folded his arms to take his nap after dinner, but the thoughts of being unavoidably awakened by the first person who should open the door, was always uppermost in his imagination, and so incessantly stepp'd in betwixt him and the first balmy presage of his repose, as to rob him, as he often declared, of the whole sweets of it.
"_When things move upon bad hinges_, an' please your lordships, _how can it be otherwise?_"
Pray what's the matter? Who is there? cried my father, waking, the moment the door began to creak. ----I wish the smith would give a peep at that confounded hinge. ----'Tis nothing, an' please your honour, said _Trim_, but two mortars I am bringing in. --They shan't make a clatter with them here, cried my father hastily. --If Dr. _Slop_ has any drugs to pound, let him do it in the kitchen. --May it please your honour, cried _Trim_, they are two mortar-pieces for a siege next summer, which I have been making out of a pair of jack-boots, which _Obadiah_ told me your honour had left off wearing. --By Heaven! cried my father, springing out of his chair, as he swore ----I have not one appointment belonging to me, which I set so much store by as I do by these jack-boots----they were our great grandfather's, brother _Toby_--they were _hereditary_. Then I fear, quoth my uncle _Toby_, _Trim_ has cut off the entail. --I have only cut off the tops, an' please your honour, cried _Trim_ ----I hate _perpetuities_ as much as any man alive, cried my father----but these jack-boots, continued he (smiling, though very angry at the same time) have been in the family, brother, ever since the civil wars; ----Sir _Roger Shandy_ wore them at the battle of _Marston-Moor_. --I declare I would not have taken ten pounds for them. ----I'll pay you the money, brother _Shandy_, quoth my uncle _Toby_, looking at the two mortars with infinite pleasure, and putting his hand into his breeches pocket as he viewed them ----I'll pay you the ten pounds this moment with all my heart and soul.----
Brother _Toby_, replied my father, altering his tone, you care not what money you dissipate and throw away, provided, continued he, 'tis but upon a SIEGE. ----Have I not one hundred and twenty pounds a year, besides my half pay? cried my uncle _Toby_. --What is that--replied my father hastily--to ten pounds for a pair of jack-boots? --twelve guineas for your _pontoons?_ --half as much for your _Dutch_ draw-bridge? --to say nothing of the train of little brass artillery you bespoke last week, with twenty other preparations for the siege of _Messina_: believe me, dear brother _Toby_, continued my father, taking him kindly by the hand--these military operations of yours are above your strength; --you mean well, brother----but they carry you into greater expences than you were first aware of; --and take my word, dear _Toby_, they will in the end quite ruin your fortune, and make a beggar of you. --What signifies it if they do, brother, replied my uncle _Toby_, so long as we know 'tis for the good of the nation?----
My father could not help smiling for his soul--his anger at the worst was never more than a spark; --and the zeal and simplicity of _Trim_--and the generous (though hobby-horsical) gallantry of my uncle _Toby_, brought him into perfect good humour with them in an instant.
Generous souls! --God prosper you both, and your mortar-pieces too! quoth my father to himself.

When Corporal Trim had finished making his two mortars, he was delighted with his handy-work; and knowing how pleased his master would be to see them, he could not resist carrying them directly into the parlour.
Now besides the moral lesson I gave in the affair of hinges, I had another reason for mentioning it.
Had the parlour door opened and turned upon its hinges, as a door should do-
For example, as cleverly as our government has been turning upon its hinges - in this case, there would have been no danger in Corporal Trim's peeping in: the moment he had beheld my father and my uncle Toby fast asleep, he would have respectfully retired in silence and left them both in their armchairs, dreaming happily.
However, during the many years in which this hinge was out of order, amongst the hourly grievances my father held about it, was this one; that he never folded his arms to take his nap after dinner, without thinking that he would be unavoidably awakened by the first person who should open the door. This thought so often stepped in betwixt him and his balmy repose, as to rob him, as he declared, of the enjoyment of it.
'Pray what's the matter? Who is there?' cried my father, waking the moment the door began to creak. 'I wish the smith would look at that confounded hinge.'
''Tis nothing, your honour,' said Trim, 'but two mortars I am bringing in.'
'Don't make a clatter with them here,' cried my father. 'If Dr. Slop has drugs to pound, let him do it in the kitchen.'
'May it please your honour,' cried Trim, 'they are two mortar-pieces for a siege next summer, which I have been making out of a pair of jack-boots, which Obadiah told me your honour had stopped wearing.'
'By Heaven!' cried my father, springing out of his chair. 'I have nothing which I value so much as those jack-boots - they were our great grandfather's, they are an inheritance.'
'Then I fear,' quoth my uncle Toby, 'that Trim has cut off the entail.'
'I have only cut off the tops, your honour,' cried Trim.
'These jack-boots,' cried my father, (smiling, though very angry at the same time) 'have been in the family, brother, ever since the civil wars. Sir Roger Shandy wore them at the battle of Marston-Moor. I declare I would not have taken ten pounds for them.'
'I'll pay you the money, brother,' quoth my uncle Toby, looking at the two mortars with infinite pleasure, and putting his hand into his breeches pocket.
'Brother Toby,' replied my father, 'you care not what money you throw away, provided 'tis upon a Siege.'
'Have I not one hundred and twenty pounds a year, besides my half pay?' cried my uncle Toby.
'What is that,' replied my father, 'to ten pounds for a pair of jack-boots? Twelve guineas for your pontoons? Half as much for your Dutch draw-bridge? - to say nothing of the train of brass artillery you ordered last week, with twenty other preparations for the siege of Messina. Believe me, dear brother,' continued my father, taking him kindly by the hand, 'these military operations carry you into greater expenses than you were first aware of; and my dear Toby, they will in the end make a beggar of you.'
'What does it matter, brother,' replied my uncle Toby, 'so long as we know 'tis for the good of the nation?'
My father could not help smiling - his anger was never more than a spark; and the zeal and simplicity of Trim, and the generous (though hobby-horsical) gallantry of my uncle Toby, brought him into perfect good humour with them both.
'Generous souls! God prosper you, and your mortar-pieces!' quoth he to himself.


My mother had gone with her left arm twisted in my father's right, till they had got to the fatal angle of the old garden wall, where Doctor _Slop_ was overthrown by _Obadiah_ on the coach-horse: as this was directly opposite to the front of Mrs. _Wadman's_ house, when my father came to it, he gave a look across; and seeing my uncle _Toby_ and the corporal within ten paces of the door, he turn'd about---- "Let us just stop a moment, quoth my father, and see with what ceremonies my brother _Toby_ and his man _Trim_ make their first entry----it will not detain us, added my father, a single minute:" ----No matter, if it be ten minutes, quoth my mother.
----It will not detain us half one; said my father.
The corporal was just then setting in with the story of his brother _Tom_ and the _Jew's_ widow: the story went on--and on----it had episodes in it----it came back, and went on----and on again; there was no end of it----the reader found it very long----
----G-- help my father! he pish'd fifty times at every new attitude, and gave the corporal's stick, with all its flourishings and dangling, to as many devils as chose to accept of them.
When issues of events like these my father is waiting for, are hanging in the scales of fate, the mind has the advantage of changing the principle of expectation three times, without which it would not have power to see it out.
Curiosity governs the _first moment_; and the second moment is all conomy to justify the expence of the first----and for the third, fourth, fifth, and sixth moments, and so on to the day of judgment--'tis a point of HONOUR.
I need not be told, that the ethic writers have assigned this all to Patience; but that VIRTUE, methinks, has extent of dominion sufficient of her own, and enough to do in it, without invading the few dismantled castles which HONOUR has left him upon the earth.
My father stood it out as well as he could with these three auxiliaries to the end of _Trim's_ story; and from thence to the end of my uncle _Toby's_ panegyrick upon arms, in the chapter following it; when seeing, that instead of marching up to Mrs. _Wadman's_ door, they both faced about and march'd down the avenue diametrically opposite to his expectation--he broke out at once with that little subacid soreness of humour which, in certain situations, distinguished his character from that of all other men.

My mother had gone with her left arm twisted in my father's right, till they were directly opposite the front of Mrs. Wadman's house. My father looked across; and seeing my uncle Toby and the corporal within ten paces of the door, he said,
'Let us just stop a moment, and see how my brother Toby and his man Trim make their first entry - it will not detain us a minute.'
'No matter if it be ten minutes,' quoth my mother.
The corporal was just then starting the story of his brother Tom and the Jew's widow: the story went on - and on - and on again; there was no end of it.
G__ help my father! he pished fifty times, and wished the corporal's stick, with all its flourishings, at the devil.
When events like these my father is waiting for, are hanging in the scales of fate, the mind changes its expectations; without this it would not have power to see it out.
Curiosity governs the first moment; and the second moment is all economy to justify the expense of the first - and for the third, fourth, fifth, and sixth moments, and so on - 'tis a point of Honour.
Writers have assigned all this to Patience; but that Virtue, methinks, has enough power without invading the few dismantled castles which Honour has left upon the earth.
My father stood it out as well as he could to the end of Trim's story; and then to the end of my uncle Toby's speech upon arms; when, seeing that instead of marching up to Mrs. Wadman's door, they both turned around and marched down the avenue in the opposite direction - he broke out at once with that little subacid soreness of humour which distinguished his character from that of other men.


What a tract of country have I run! --how many degrees nearer to the warm sun am I advanced, and how many fair and goodly cities have I seen, during the time you have been reading, and reflecting, Madam, upon this story! There's FONTAINBLEAU, and SENS, and JOIGNY, and AUXERRE, and DIJON the capital of _Burgundy_, and CHALLON, and _Mcon_ the capital of the _Mconese_, and a score more upon the road to LYONS----and now I have run them over ----I might as well talk to you of so many market towns in the moon, as tell you one word about them: it will be this chapter at the least, if not both this and the next entirely lost, do what I will----
----Why, 'tis a strange story! _Tristram._
----Alas! Madam, had it been upon some melancholy lecture of the cross--the peace of meekness, or the contentment of resignation ----I had not been incommoded: or had I thought of writing it upon the purer abstractions of the soul, and that food of wisdom and holiness and contemplation, upon which the spirit of man (when separated from the body) is to subsist for ever ----You would have come with a better appetite from it----
----I wish I never had wrote it: but as I never blot anything out----let us use some honest means to get it out of our heads directly.
----Pray reach me my fool's cap ----I fear you sit upon it, Madam---- 'tis under the cushion ----I'll put it on----
Bless me! you have had it upon your head this half hour. ----There then let it stay, with a
Fa-ra diddle di and a fa-ri diddle d and a high-dum--dye-dum fiddle - - - dumb - c.
And now, Madam, we may venture, I hope, a little to go on.

What a tract of country have I run over! how much nearer to the warm sun have I advanced, and how many goodly cities have I seen, while you have been reading, Madam! There's Fontainebleau, and Sens, and Joigny, and Auxerre, and Dijon, and Mcon, and a score more upon the road to Lyons - and I might as well talk to you of so many market towns in the moon, as tell you one word about them: this chapter, if not the next too, will be entirely lost, do what I will-
'Why, 'tis a strange story, Tristram!'
- Alas! Madam, had it been upon some melancholy lecture of the cross - the peace of resignation - it would not have been difficult: or had I thought of writing upon wisdom and holiness - you would have come with a better appetite from it-
- I wish I never had wrote it: but as I never blot anything out, let us use some honest means to get it out of our heads directly.
Pray reach me my fool's cap - I fear you sit upon it, Madam - 'tis under the cushion-
'Bless me! you have had it upon your head this half hour.'
There then let it stay, with a
Fa-ra diddle di
and a fa-ri diddle d
and a high-dum - dye-dum
fiddle - dumb - c.
And now, Madam, we may venture to go on.


It was like the momentary contest in the moist eye-lids of an _April_ morning, "Whether _Bridget_ should laugh or cry."
She snatched up a rolling-pin----'twas ten to one, she had laugh'd----
She laid it down----she cried; and had one single tear of 'em but tasted of bitterness, full sorrowful would the corporal's heart have been that he had used the argument; but the corporal understood the sex, a _quart major to a terce_ at least, better than my uncle _Toby_, and accordingly he assailed Mrs. _Bridget_ after this manner.
I know, Mrs. _Bridget_, said the corporal, giving her a most respectful kiss, that thou art good and modest by nature, and art withal so generous a girl in thyself, that, if I know thee rightly, thou would'st not wound an insect, much less the honour of so gallant and worthy a soul as my master, wast thou sure to be made a countess of----but thou hast been set on, and deluded, dear _Bridget_, as is often a woman's case, "to please others more than themselves----"
_Bridget's_ eyes poured down at the sensations the corporal excited.
----Tell me----tell me, then, my dear _Bridget_, continued the corporal, taking hold of her hand, which hung down dead by her side, ----and, giving a second kiss----whose suspicion has misled thee?
_Bridget_ sobb'd a sob or two----then open'd her eyes----the corporal wiped 'em with the bottom of her apron----she then open'd her heart and told him all.

Bridget did not know whether to laugh or cry.
She snatched up a rolling-pin - 'twas ten to one, she had laughed - She laid it down - she cried; and had one single tear tasted of bitterness, full sorrowful would the corporal's heart have been; but he understood the sex better than my uncle Toby at least, and so he assailed Mrs. Bridget after this manner.
'I know, Mrs. Bridget,' said he, giving her a most respectful kiss, 'that thou art good and modest by nature, and art so generous a girl that thou would'st not wound an insect, much less the honour of so gallant a soul as my master - but thou hast been deluded, dear Bridget, as is often a woman's case, "to please others more than themselves."'
Bridget's eyes poured down at the sensations the corporal excited.
'Tell me, then, my dear Bridget,' continued the corporal, taking hold of her hand, and giving a second kiss - 'whose suspicion has misled thee?'
Bridget sobbed a sob or two - then opened her eyes - the corporal wiped 'em with her apron - she then opened her heart and told him all.


As I perceived the commissary of the post-office would have his six livres four sous, I had nothing else for it, but to say some smart thing upon the occasion, worth the money:
And so I set off thus:----
----And pray, Mr. Commissary, by what law of courtesy is a defenceless stranger to be used just the reverse from what you use a _Frenchman_ in this matter?
By no means; said he.
Excuse me; said I--for you have begun, Sir, with first tearing off my breeches--and now you want my pocket----
Whereas--had you first taken my pocket, as you do with your own people--and then left me bare a--'d after --I had been a beast to have complain'd----
As it is----
----'Tis contrary to the _law of nature_.
----'Tis contrary to _reason_.
----'Tis contrary to the GOSPEL.
But not to this----said he--putting a printed paper into my hand,
PAR LE ROY.
------'Tis a pithy prolegomenon, quoth I--and so read on ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- --------
----By all which it appears, quoth I, having read it over, a little too rapidly, that if a man sets out in a post-chaise from _Paris_--he must go on travelling in one, all the days of his life--or pay for it. --Excuse me, said the commissary, the spirit of the ordinance is this --That if you set out with an intention of running post from _Paris_ to _Avignon_, &c., you shall not change that intention or mode of travelling, without first satisfying the fermiers for two posts further than the place you repent at--and 'tis founded, continued he, upon this, that the REVENUES are not to fall short through your _fickleness_----
----O by heavens! cried I--if fickleness is taxable in _France_--we have nothing to do but to make the best peace with you we can----
AND SO THE PEACE WAS MADE;
----And if it is a bad one--as _Tristram Shandy_ laid the corner-stone of it--nobody but _Tristram Shandy_ ought to be hanged.

As I perceived the messenger would have his six livres four sous, I had nothing else for it, but to say some smart thing worth the money:
And so I set off thus:
'Pray, sir, why is a defenceless stranger to be used just the reverse from how you use a Frenchman in this matter?'
'By no means,' said he.
'Excuse me,' said I; 'for you have begun by tearing off my breeches - and now you want my pocket. Whereas - if you had first taken my pocket, as you do with your own people - and then left me bare a__'d, - I would have been a beast to have complained.
'As it is- ''tis contrary to the law of nature.
''Tis contrary to reason.
''Tis contrary to the Gospel.'
'But not to this,' said he, putting a printed paper into my hand:
PAR LE ROY.
------''Tis a pithy beginning,' quoth I; and so read on
---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- ----
'By which it appears,' quoth I, having read it over a little too rapidly, 'that if a man sets out in a post-chaise from Paris - he must go on travelling in one, all the days of his life - or pay for it.'
'Excuse me,' said he, 'it means this: that if you set out with an intention of going post from Paris to Avignon, you shall not change that intention or mode of travelling, without first satisfying the fermiers for two posts further than the place you repent at. The Revenues are not to fall short through your fickleness.'
'O, by heavens!' cried I, 'if fickleness is taxable in France - we have nothing to do but to make the best peace with you we can-'
And so the Peace was made-
And if it is a bad one - as Tristram Shandy laid the corner-stone of it, nobody but Tristram Shandy ought to be hanged.


It was not an easy matter in any king's reign (unless you were as lean a subject as myself) to have forced your hand diagonally, quite across your whole body, so as to gain the bottom of your opposite coat pocket. ----In the year one thousand seven hundred and eighteen, when this happened, it was extremely difficult; so that when my uncle _Toby_ discovered the transverse zig-zaggery of my father's approaches towards it, it instantly brought into his mind those he had done duty in, before the gate of _St. Nicolas_; ----the idea of which drew off his attention so entirely from the subject in debate, that he had got his right hand to the bell to ring up _Trim_ to go and fetch his map of _Namur_, and his compasses and sector along with it, to measure the returning angles of the traverses of that attack, --but particularly of that one, where he received his wound upon his groin.
My father knit his brows, and as he knit them, all the blood in his body seemed to rush up into his face----my uncle _Toby_ dismounted immediately.
----I did not apprehend your uncle _Toby_ was o' horseback.------

It was not an easy matter in any king's reign to force your hand diagonally across your whole body to reach the bottom of your opposite coat pocket. - In the year 1718, when this happened, it was extremely difficult; so that when my uncle Toby discovered the zig-zaggery of my father's approaches, it instantly brought into his mind those moves he had made before the gate of St. Nicolas; the idea of which distracted him so much, that he was about to ring the bell for Trim to go and fetch his map of Namur, in order to measure the angles of that attack - particularly the one where he received his wound upon his groin.
My father knit his brows, and all the blood in his body rushed up into his face. - My uncle Toby dismounted immediately.
- I did not realise your uncle Toby was on horseback.-


It is a great inconvenience to a man in a haste, that there are three distinct roads between _Calais_ and _Paris_, in behalf of which there is so much to be said by the several deputies from the towns which lie along them, that half a day is easily lost in settling which you'll take.
First, the road by _Lisle_ and _Arras_, which is the most about----but most interesting and instructing.
The second, that by _Amiens_, which you may go, if you would see _Chantilly_----
And that by _Beauvais_, which you may go, if you will.
For this reason a great many chuse to go by _Beauvais_.

It is a great inconvenience to a man in a hurry, that there are three distinct roads between Calais and Paris, and there is so much to be said about them by the deputies from the towns which lie along them, that half a day is easily lost in settling which you'll take.
First, the road by Lisle and Arras, which is the most round-about - but most interesting.
The second, that by Amiens, which you may go if you would see Chantilly.
And that by Beauvais, which you may go if you wish.
For this reason a great many choose to go by Beauvais.


On the fifth day of _November_, 1718, which to the ra fixed on, was as near nine calendar months as any husband could in reason have expected, --was I _Tristram Shandy_, Gentleman, brought forth into this scurvy and disasterous world of ours. ----I wish I had been born in the Moon, or in any of the planets (except _Jupiter_ or _Saturn_, because I never could bear cold weather) for it could not well have fared worse with me in any of them (though I will not answer for _Venus_) than it has in this vile, dirty planet of ours, --which, o' my conscience, with reverence be it spoken, I take to be made up of the shreds and clippings of the rest; ----not but the planet is well enough, provided a man could be born in it to a great title or to a great estate; or could any how contrive to be called up to publick charges, and employments of dignity or power; ----but that is not my case; ----and therefore every man will speak of the fair as his own market has gone in it; ------for which cause I affirm it over again to be one of the vilest worlds that ever was made; --for I can truly say, that from the first hour I drew my breath in it, to this, that I can now scarce draw it at all, for an asthma I got in scating against the wind in _Flanders_; --I have been the continual sport of what the world calls Fortune; and though I will not wrong her by saying, She has ever made me feel the weight of any great or signal evil; ----yet with all the good temper in the world, I affirm it of her, that in every stage of my life, and at every turn and corner where she could get fairly at me, the ungracious duchess has pelted me with a set of as pitiful misadventures and cross accidents as ever small HERO sustained.

On the fifth day of November, 1718, which was as near nine months as any husband could reasonably expect, I, Tristram Shandy, Gentleman, was brought forth into this scurvy and disastrous world of ours.
- I wish I had been born on the Moon, or in any of the planets, for it could not have fared worse with me than it has in this vile, dirty planet of ours, which I take to be made up of the shreds and clippings of the rest.
This planet is well enough, if a man is born to a great title or a great estate; or has employment of dignity or power; but that is not my case; and so I say again it is one of the vilest worlds that ever was made; for truly, from the first hour I drew my breath, to now, when I can scarce draw breath at all, because of an asthma I got in skating against the wind in Flanders, I have been the continual plaything of Fortune. Though I cannot say she has ever done me any great evil, yet I affirm that in every stage of my life, and at every turn and corner where she could get at me, the ungracious duchess has pelted me with a set of as pitiful misadventures and cross accidents as ever small Hero sustained.


"--What prodigious armies you had in _Flanders!_"----
Brother _Toby_, replied my father, taking his wig from off his head with his right hand, and with his _left_ pulling out a striped _India_ handkerchief from his right coat pocket, in order to rub his head, as he argued the point with my uncle _Toby_.----
----Now, in this I think my father was much to blame; and I will give you my reasons for it.
Matters of no more seeming consequence in themselves than, "_Whether my father should have taken off his wig with his right hand or with his left_," ----have divided the greatest kingdoms, and made the crowns of the monarchs who governed them, to totter upon their heads. ----But need I tell you, Sir, that the circumstances with which every thing in this world is begirt, give every thing in this world its size and shape! --and by tightening it, or relaxing it, this way or that, make the thing to be, what it is--great--little--good--bad--indifferent or not indifferent, just as the case happens?
As my father's _India_ handkerchief was in his right coat pocket, he should by no means have suffered his right hand to have got engaged: on the contrary, instead of taking off his wig with it, as he did, he ought to have committed that entirely to the left; and then, when the natural exigency my father was under of rubbing his head, called out for his handkerchief, he would have had nothing in the world to have done, but to have put his right hand into his right coat pocket and taken it out; ----which he might have done without any violence, or the least ungraceful twist in any one tendon or muscle of his whole body
In this case, (unless, indeed, my father had been resolved to make a fool of himself by holding the wig stiff in his left hand----or by making some nonsensical angle or other at his elbow-joint, or arm-pit)--his whole attitude had been easy--natural--unforced: _Reynolds_ himself, as great and gracefully as he paints, might have painted him as he sat.
Now as my father managed this matter, --consider what a devil of a figure my father made of himself.
In the latter end of Queen _Anne's_ reign, and in the beginning of the reign of King _George_ the first-- "_Coat pockets were cut very low down in the skirt_." --I need say no more--the father of mischief, had he been hammering at it a month, could not have contrived a worse fashion for one in my father's situation.

'- What prodigious armies you had in Flanders!' replied my father, taking his wig off his head with his right hand, and with his left hand pulling out a striped handkerchief from his right coat pocket, in order to rub his head.
Now, in this I think my father was much to blame; and I will tell you why.
Matters of no more seeming consequence than 'Whether my father should have taken off his wig with his right hand or his left,' have divided the greatest kingdoms, and made their monarchs' crowns totter upon their heads.
As my father's handkerchief was in his right coat pocket, he should not have taken off his wig with his right hand, but with his left; and then, when the rubbing of his head called for his handkerchief, he could have put his right hand into his right coat pocket to take it out without the least violent or ungraceful twist of his body.
In this case, (unless my father had been resolved to make a fool of himself by bending his elbow at some nonsensical angle) - his whole attitude would have been easy - natural - unforced: Reynolds himself might have painted him as he sat.
Now, consider what a devil of a figure my father made of himself.
In the latter end of Queen Anne's reign, and in the beginning of King George's, coat pockets were cut very low down in the skirt. I need say no more - the devil himself could not have contrived a worse fashion for one in my father's situation.


And now for _Lippius's_ clock! said I, with the air of a man, who had got thro' all his difficulties----nothing can prevent us seeing that, and the _Chinese_ history, &c., except the time, said _Franois_----for 'tis almost eleven --Then we must speed the faster, said I, striding it away to the cathedral.
I cannot say, in my heart, that it gave me any concern in being told by one of the minor canons, as I was entering the west door, --That _Lippius's_ great clock was all out of joints, and had not gone for some years ----It will give me the more time, thought I, to peruse the _Chinese_ history; and besides I shall be able to give the world a better account of the clock in its decay, than I could have done in its flourishing condition----
----And so away I posted to the college of the Jesuits.
Now it is with the project of getting a peep at the history of _China_ in _Chinese_ characters--as with many others I could mention, which strike the fancy only at a distance; for as I came nearer and nearer to the point--my blood cool'd--the freak gradually went off, till at length I would not have given a cherrystone to have it gratified ------The truth was, my time was short, and my heart was at the Tomb of the Lovers ----I wish to God, said I, as I got the rapper in my hand, that the key of the library may be but lost; it fell out as well------
_For all the JESUITS had got the cholic_--and to that degree, as never was known in the memory of the oldest practitioner.

'And now for Lippius's clock!' said I - 'nothing can prevent us seeing that, and the Chinese history.'
'Except the time,' said Franois, 'for 'tis almost eleven.'
'Then we must speed the faster,' said I, striding away to the cathedral.
I cannot say, in my heart, that it gave me any concern in being told, as I was entering the west door, that Lippius's great clock had not worked for some years.
'It will give me more time,' thought I, 'to peruse the Chinese history; and besides, I shall be able to give the world an account of the clock in its decay.'
-And so away I hurried to the Jesuit college.
Now, like many projects, the wish of getting a peep at the history of China in Chinese, struck the fancy only at a distance; - for as I came nearer to the point, my wish cooled, till at length I would not have given a cherrystone to have it gratified. My time was short, and my heart was at the Tomb of the Lovers.
'I wish to God,' said I, as I knocked, 'that the key of the library may be lost.'
It ended just as well-
For all the Jesuits had got the colic.


If I was not morally sure that the reader must be out of all patience for my uncle _Toby's_ character, ----I would here previously have convinced him that there is no instrument so fit to draw such a thing with, as that which I have pitch'd upon.
A man and his HOBBY-HORSE, tho' I cannot say that they act and re-act exactly after the same manner in which the soul and body do upon each other: Yet doubtless there is a communication between them of some kind; and my opinion rather is, that there is something in it more of the manner of electrified bodies, --and that, by means of the heated parts of the rider, which come immediately into contact with the back of the HOBBY-HORSE, --by long journeys and much friction, it so happens, that the body of the rider is at length fill'd as full of HOBBY-HORSICAL matter as it can hold; ----so that if you are able to give but a clear description of the nature of the one, you may form a pretty exact notion of the genius and character of the other.
Now the HOBBY-HORSE which my uncle _Toby_ always rode upon, was in my opinion a HOBBY-HORSE well worth giving a description of, if it was only upon the score of his great singularity; --for you might have travelled from _York_ to _Dover_, --from _Dover_ to _Penzance_ in _Cornwall_, and from _Penzance_ to _York_ back again, and not have seen such another upon the road; or if you had seen such a one, whatever haste you had been in, you must infallibly have stopp'd to have taken a view of him. Indeed, the gait and figure of him was so strange, and so utterly unlike was he, from his head to his tail, to any one of the whole species, that it was now and then made a matter of dispute, ----whether he was really a HOBBY-HORSE or no: but as the Philosopher would use no other argument to the Sceptic, who disputed with him against the reality of motion, save that of rising up upon his legs, and walking across the room; --so would my uncle _Toby_ use no other argument to prove his HOBBY-HORSE was a HOBBY-HORSE indeed, but by getting upon his back and riding him about; --leaving the world, after that, to determine the point as it thought fit.
In good truth, my uncle _Toby_ mounted him with so much pleasure, and he carried my uncle _Toby_ so well, ----that he troubled his head very little with what the world either said or thought about it.
It is now high time, however, that I give you a description of him: --But to go on regularly, I only beg you will give me leave to acquaint you first, how my uncle _Toby_ came by him.

If I was not sure that the reader must be impatient to hear my uncle Toby's character, I would here convince him that there is no instrument so fit to draw such a thing with, as a Hobby-Horse.
A man and his Hobby-Horse, though they may not act on each other in exactly the same way as the soul and body do, yet doubtless have a communication between them of some kind; and my opinion is, that it is in the manner of electrified bodies, and that, by means of the heated parts of the rider coming into contact with the back of the Hobby-Horse, by long journeys and much friction, the body of the rider is at length filled with as much Hobby-Horsical matter as it can hold. So if you are able to give a clear description of the nature of the one, you may form a pretty exact notion of the character of the other.
Now the Hobby-Horse which my uncle Toby always rode, was in my opinion well worth describing because of its uniqueness; - for you might have travelled from York to Dover to Penzance, and not have seen one like it. Indeed, so strange, and so utterly unlike any of the species was he, that it might be disputed whether he was really a Hobby-Horse at all: but it was proved by my uncle Toby's getting upon his back and riding him about.
In truth, my uncle Toby mounted him with so much pleasure, and he carried my uncle so well, - that he cared very little what the world thought about it.
It is now high time, however, that I give you a description of him. But first, just let me acquaint you with how my uncle Toby came by him.


To my uncle Mr. _Toby Shandy_ do I stand indebted for the preceding anecdote, to whom my father, who was an excellent natural philosopher, and much given to close reasoning upon the smallest matters, had oft, and heavily complained of the injury; but once more particularly, as my uncle _Toby_ well remember'd, upon his observing a most unaccountable obliquity (as he call'd it) in my manner of setting up my top, and justifying the principles upon which I had done it, --the old gentleman shook his head, and in a tone more expressive by half of sorrow than reproach, --he said his heart all along foreboded, and he saw it verified in this, and from a thousand other observations he had made upon me, That I should neither think nor act like any other man's child: --_But alas!_ continued he, shaking his head a second time, and wiping away a tear which was trickling down his cheeks, _My Tristram's misfortunes began nine months before ever he came into the world_.
--My mother, who was sitting by, look'd up, --but she knew no more than her backside what my father meant, --but my uncle, Mr. _Toby Shandy_, who had been often informed of the affair, --understood him very well.

I owe the preceding anecdote to my uncle Mr. Toby Shandy, to whom my father had oft and heavily complained of the injury. Once, particularly, as my uncle Toby remembered - upon my father's observing a most unaccountable slant in my manner of setting up my spinning-top, the old gentleman shook his head, and in a sorrowful tone said his heart had all along foreboded that I should neither think nor act like any other child.
'Alas!' continued he, wiping a tear from his cheeks, 'my Tristram's misfortunes began nine months before ever he came into the world.'
My mother, who was sitting by, looked up, but she knew no more than her backside what my father meant. However, my uncle, Mr. Toby Shandy, who had been often informed of the affair, understood him very well.


The corporal had not taken his measures so badly in this stroke of artilleryship, but that he might have kept the matter entirely to himself, and left _Susannah_ to have sustained the whole weight of the attack, as she could; --true courage is not content with coming off so. ----The corporal, whether as general or comptroller of the train, --'twas no matter, ----had done that, without which, as he imagined, the misfortune could never have happened, --_at least in_ Susannah's _hands_; ----How would your honours have behaved? ----He determined at once, not to take shelter behind _Susannah_, --but to give it; and with this resolution upon his mind, he marched upright into the parlour, to lay the whole _manuvre_ before my uncle _Toby_.
My uncle _Toby_ had just then been giving _Yorick_ an account of the battle of _Steenkirk_, and of the strange conduct of count _Solmes_ in ordering the foot to halt, and the horse to march where it could not act; which was directly contrary to the king's commands, and proved the loss of the day.
There are incidents in some families so pat to the purpose of what is going to follow, --they are scarce exceeded by the invention of a dramatic writer; --I mean of ancient days.------
_Trim_, by the help of his forefinger, laid flat upon the table, and the edge of his hand striking across it at right angles, made a shift to tell his story so, that priests and virgins might have listened to it; --and the story being told, --the dialogue went on as follows.

The corporal might have kept the matter entirely to himself, and left Susannah to have sustained the whole weight of blame; but true courage is not content with coming off so.
Trim imagined that the misfortune would never have happened, but for what he had done. - How would your honours have behaved? He determined not to take shelter behind Susannah, but to give it; and with this resolution, he marched upright into the parlour, to lay the whole manoeuvre before my uncle Toby.
My uncle Toby had just been giving Yorick an account of the battle of Steenkirk, and of the strange conduct of Count Solmes in ordering the footsoldiers to halt, and the cavalry to march; which was directly contrary to the king's commands, and proved the loss of the day.
Trim, by the help of his forefinger, laid flat upon the table, and the edge of his hand striking across it at right angles, managed to tell his story so that priests and virgins might have listened to it; and the story being told - the dialogue went on as follows.


Mrs. _Bridget_ had pawn'd all the little stock of honour a poor chambermaid was worth in the world, that she would get to the bottom of the affair in ten days; and it was built upon one of the most concessible _postulata_ in nature: namely, that whilst my uncle _Toby_ was making love to her mistress, the corporal could find nothing better to do, than make love to her---- "_And I'll let him as much as he will_, said _Bridget_, _to get it out of him_."
Friendship has two garments; an outer and an under one. _Bridget_ was serving her mistress's interests in the one--and doing the thing which most pleased herself in the other; so had as many stakes depending upon my uncle _Toby's_ wound, as the Devil himself ----Mrs. _Wadman_ had but one--and as it possibly might be her last (without discouraging Mrs. _Bridget_, or discrediting her talents) was determined to play her cards herself.
She wanted not encouragement: a child might have look'd into his hand----there was such a plainness and simplicity in his playing out what trumps he had----with such an unmistrusting ignorance of the _ten-ace_----and so naked and defenceless did he sit upon the same sopha with widow _Wadman_, that a generous heart would have wept to have won the game of him.
Let us drop the metaphor.

Mrs. Bridget had pawned all a chambermaid's little stock of honour that she would get to the bottom of the affair in ten days; assuming that whilst my uncle Toby was making love to her mistress, the corporal would make love to her.
'And I'll let him as much as he likes,' said Bridget, 'to get it out of him.'
Friendship has two garments; an outer and an under one. Bridget was serving her mistress's interests in the one - and doing the thing which most pleased herself in the other. However, with so many stakes depending upon my uncle Toby's wound, Mrs. Wadman (without discouraging Mrs. Bridget) was determined to play her cards herself.
A child might have looked into my uncle Toby's hand - there was such a plainness and simplicity in his playing what trumps he had - with such an innocent ignorance of the ten-ace - and so naked and defenceless did he sit upon the sofa with widow Wadman, that a generous heart would have wept to have won the game from him.
Let us drop the metaphor.


----"Not touch it for the world," did I say----
Lord, how I have heated my imagination with this metaphor!

'Not touch it for the world,' did I say-
Lord, how I have heated my imagination with this metaphor!