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Upon looking into my mother's marriage-settlement, in order to satisfy myself and reader in a point necessary to be cleared up, before we could proceed any farther in this history; --I had the good fortune to pop upon the very thing I wanted before I had read a day and a half straight forwards, --it might have taken me up a month; --which shews plainly, that when a man sits down to write a history, --tho' it be but the history of _Jack Hickathrift_ or _Tom Thumb_, he knows no more than his heels what lets and confounded hindrances he is to meet with in his way, --or what a dance he may be led, by one excursion or another, before all is over. Could a historiographer drive on his history, as a muleteer drives on his mule, --straight forward; ----for instance, from _Rome_ all the way to _Loretto_, without ever once turning his head aside either to the right hand or to the left, ----he might venture to foretell you to an hour when he should get to his journey's end; ----but the thing is, morally speaking, impossible: For, if he is a man of the least spirit, he will have fifty deviations from a straight line to make with this or that party as he goes along, which he can no ways avoid. He will have views and prospects to himself perpetually soliciting his eye, which he can no more help standing still to look at than he can fly; he will moreover have various Accounts to reconcile: Anecdotes to pick up: Inscriptions to make out: Stories to weave in: Traditions to sift: Personages to call upon: Panegyricks to paste up at this door; Pasquinades at that: ----All which both the man and his mule are quite exempt from. To sum up all; there are archives at every stage to be look'd into, and rolls, records, documents, and endless genealogies, which justice ever and anon calls him back to stay the reading of: ----In short, there is no end of it; ----for my own part, I declare I had been at it these six weeks, making all the speed I possibly could, --and am not yet born: --I have just been able, and that's all, to tell you _when_ it happen'd, but not _how_; --so that you see the thing is yet far from being accomplished. These unforeseen stoppages, which I own I had no conception of when I first set out; --but which, I am convinced now, will rather increase than diminish as I advance, --have struck out a hint which I am resolved to follow; ----and that is, --not to be in a hurry; but to go on leisurely, writing and publishing two volumes of my life every year; ----which, if I am suffered to go on quietly, and can make a tolerable bargain with my bookseller, I shall continue to do as long as I live.

Upon looking into my mother's marriage-settlement, in order to clear up a point before proceeding any farther in this history - I had the good fortune to pop upon the very thing I wanted, before I had read for a day and a half. It might have taken me a month; which shows plainly, that when a man sits down to write a history, even if only the history of Tom Thumb, he has no idea what confounded hindrances he is to meet with in his way, or what a dance he may be led before all is over. Could a writer drive his history straight forward, as a muleteer drives on his mule, without ever once turning his head either to right or left, he could foretell to the hour when he should get to his journey's end; but the thing is, morally speaking, impossible. For, if he is a man of the least spirit, he will have fifty deviations to make as he goes along, which he cannot avoid. He will have views perpetually catching his eye, which he can no more help stopping to look at than he can fly; he will moreover have various Accounts to reconcile: Anecdotes to pick up: Inscriptions to make out: Stories to weave in: Traditions to sift: Personages to call upon: Panegyrics to paste up: - All which both the man and his mule are quite exempt from. To sum up; there are archives at every stage to be looked into, and records, documents, and endless genealogies that he must read. - In short, there is no end of it. For my own part, I declare I have been at it these six weeks, making all the speed I possibly could, - and am not yet born. I have just been able to tell you when it happened, but not how; - so that you see the thing is still far from being accomplished. These unforeseen stoppages, which I had no conception of when I first set out - but which, I am now convinced, will increase rather than diminish as I advance - have made me resolve not to be in a hurry; but to go on leisurely, writing and publishing two volumes of my life every year; - which, if I can make a tolerable bargain with my bookseller, I shall continue to do as long as I live.

Tristram Shandy

Book 1 - Chapter 14

There is nothing so foolish, when you are at the expence of making an entertainment of this kind, as to order things so badly, as to let your criticks and gentry of refined taste run it down: Nor is there anything so likely to make them do it, as that of leaving them out of the party, or, what is full as offensive, of bestowing your attention upon the rest of your guests in so particular a way, as if there was no such thing as a critick (by occupation) at table. ----I guard against both; for, in the first place, I have left half a dozen places purposely open for them; --and in the next place, I pay them all court. --Gentlemen, I kiss your hands, I protest no company could give me half the pleasure, --by my soul I am glad to see you ------I beg only you will make no strangers of yourselves, but sit down without any ceremony, and fall on heartily. I said I had left six places, and I was upon the point of carrying my complaisance so far, as to have left a seventh open for them, --and in this very spot I stand on; but being told by a Critick (tho' not by occupation, --but by nature) that I had acquitted myself well enough, I shall fill it up directly, hoping, in the meantime, that I shall be able to make a great deal of more room next year. ------How, in the name of wonder! could your uncle _Toby_, who, it seems, was a military man, and whom you have represented as no fool, ----be at the same time such a confused, pudding-headed, muddle-headed, fellow, as --Go look. So, Sir Critick, I could have replied; but I scorn it. --'Tis language unurbane, --and only befitting the man who cannot give clear and satisfactory accounts of things, or dive deep enough into the first causes of human ignorance and confusion. It is moreover the reply valiant--and therefore I reject it: for tho' it might have suited my uncle _Toby's_ character as a soldier excellently well, and had he not accustomed himself, in such attacks, to whistle the _Lillabullero_, as he wanted no courage, 'tis the very answer he would have given; yet it would by no means have done for me. You see as plain as can be, that I write as a man of erudition; --that even my similies, my allusions, my illustrations, my metaphors, are erudite, --and that I must sustain my character properly, and contrast it properly too, --else what would become of me? Why, Sir, I should be undone; --at this very moment that I am going here to fill up one place against a critick, --I should have made an opening for a couple. ----Therefore I answer thus: Pray, Sir, in all the reading which you have ever read, did you ever read such a book as _Locke's_ Essay upon the Human Understanding? ----Don't answer me rashly--because many, I know, quote the book, who have not read it--and many have read it who understand it not: --If either of these is your case, as I write to instruct, I will tell you in three words what the book is. --It is a history. --A history! of who? what? where? when? Don't hurry yourself ----It is a history-book, Sir (which may possibly recommend it to the world) of what passes in a man's own mind; and if you will say so much of the book, and no more, believe me, you will cut no contemptible figure in a metaphysick circle. But this by the way. Now if you will venture to go along with me, and look down into the bottom of this matter, it will be found that the cause of obscurity and confusion, in the mind of a man, is threefold. Dull organs, dear Sir, in the first place. Secondly, slight and transient impressions made by the objects, when the said organs are not dull. And thirdly, a memory like unto a sieve, not able to retain what it has received. --Call down _Dolly_ your chambermaid, and I will give you my cap and bell along with it, if I make not this matter so plain that _Dolly_ herself should understand it as well as _Malbranch_. ----When _Dolly_ has indited her epistle to _Robin_, and has thrust her arm into the bottom of her pocket hanging by her right side; --take that opportunity to recollect that the organs and faculties of perception can, by nothing in this world, be so aptly typified and explained as by that one thing which _Dolly's_ hand is in search of. --Your organs are not so dull that I should inform you--'tis an inch, Sir, of red seal-wax. When this is melted, and dropped upon the letter, if _Dolly_ fumbles too long for her thimble, till the wax is over hardened, it will not receive the mark of her thimble from the usual impulse which was wont to imprint it. Very well. If _Dolly's_ wax, for want of better, is bees-wax, or of a temper too soft, --tho' it may receive, --it will not hold the impression, how hard soever _Dolly_ thrusts against it; and last of all, supposing the wax good, and eke the thimble, but applied thereto in careless haste, as her Mistress rings the bell; ----in any one of these three cases the print left by the thimble will be as unlike the prototype as a brass-jack. Now you must understand that not one of these was the true cause of the confusion in my uncle _Toby's_ discourse; and it is for that very reason I enlarge upon them so long, after the manner of great physiologists--to shew the world, what it did _not_ arise from. What it did arise from, I have hinted above, and a fertile source of obscurity it is, --and ever will be, --and that is the unsteady uses of words, which have perplexed the clearest and most exalted understandings. It is ten to one (at _Arthur's_) whether you have ever read the literary histories of past ages; --if you have, what terrible battles, 'yclept logomachies, have they occasioned and perpetuated with so much gall and ink-shed, --that a good-natured man cannot read the accounts of them without tears in his eyes. Gentle critick! when thou hast weighed all this, and considered within thyself how much of thy own knowledge, discourse, and conversation has been pestered and disordered at one time or other, by this, and this only: --What a pudder and racket in COUNCILS about and ; and in the SCHOOLS of the learned about power and about spirit; --about essences, and about quintessences; ----about substances, and about space. ----What confusion in greater THEATRES from words of little meaning, and as indeterminate a sense! when thou considerest this, thou wilt not wonder at my uncle _Toby's_ perplexities, --thou wilt drop a tear of pity upon his scarp and his counterscarp; --his glacis and his covered way; --his ravelin and his half-moon: 'Twas not by ideas, --by Heaven; his life was put in jeopardy by words.

There is nothing so foolish, when you are making an entertainment of this kind, as to let your critics run it down. Nor is there anything so likely to make them do it, as leaving them out of the party, or bestowing your attention upon the rest of your guests, and ignoring the critics at your table. - I guard against both; for, in the first place, I have left half a dozen places purposely open for them; and in the next place, I pay them all court. - Gentlemen, I kiss your hands; no company could give me half the pleasure, - by my soul I am glad to see you. - Sit down, and fall on heartily. I said I had left six places, and I was about to have left a seventh open for them; but being told by a Critic that I had acquitted myself well enough, I shall fill it up directly, and make more room next year. 'How, in the name of wonder! could your uncle Toby, a military man, whom you have represented as no fool, be such a confused, pudding-headed, muddle-brained fellow, as-' Go look. So, Sir Critic, I could have replied; but I scorn it. 'Tis uncivil language, only fit for a man who cannot give clear accounts of things, or dive deep enough into the causes of human ignorance. It is moreover the reply valiant - and therefore I reject it: for though it might have suited my uncle Toby's character as a soldier excellently well, (had he not accustomed himself, in such attacks, to whistle Lillabullero,) yet it would not do for me. You see plainly, that I write as a man of learning; - that even my similes, my allusions, my metaphors, are erudite, - and that I must sustain my character properly, or what would become of me? Why, Sir, I should be undone; at the very moment that I filled up one place against a critic, I should have made an opening for a couple more. Therefore I answer thus: Pray, Sir, did you ever read Locke's Essay upon the Human Understanding? - Don't answer me rashly - because many, I know, quote the book, who have not read it - and many have read it who do not understand it. If either of these is your case, I will tell you in three words what the book is. It is a history. - A history! of who? what? where? when? It is a history-book, Sir, of what passes in a man's own mind; and if you will say so much of the book, and no more, believe me, you will cut no contemptible figure in a metaphysic circle. But this is by the way. Now if you will venture to go along with me, and look into the bottom of this matter, it will be found that the cause of confusion in a man's mind is threefold. Dull organs, dear Sir, in the first place. Secondly, slight impressions made by the objects. And thirdly, a memory like unto a sieve, not able to retain what it has received. Call down Dolly your chambermaid, and I will make this matter so plain that Dolly herself should understand it. When Dolly has written her letter to Robin, and has thrust her arm into her pocket;- recollect that the organs of perception can by nothing in this world, be so aptly explained as by that thing which Dolly's hand is in search of: - an inch, Sir, of red sealing-wax. When this is melted, and dropped upon the letter, if Dolly fumbles too long for her thimble, the wax will be too hard, and it will not receive the thimble's mark. Very well. If Dolly's wax is too soft, - though it may take the impression, it will not hold it; and last of all, supposing the wax good, and also the thimble, but applied too hastily - in any of these three cases, the print left by the thimble will not be true. Now you must understand that not one of these was the cause of the confusion in my uncle Toby's discourse; and it is for that very reason I enlarge upon them for so long, - to show the world what it did not arise from. What it did arise from, I have hinted above, is the unsteady uses of words, which have perplexed the clearest understandings. If you have ever read the literary histories of past ages; - what terrible battles of words they have perpetuated, with so much gall and ink shed that a good-natured man cannot read them without tears in his eyes - gentle critic! when thou hast considered all this, thou wilt not wonder at my uncle Toby's perplexities. Thou wilt drop a tear of pity upon his scarp and his counterscarp; his glacis and his covered way; his ravelin and his half-moon. His life was put in jeopardy not by ideas, but by words.

Tristram Shandy

Book 2 - Chapter 2

My mother was going very gingerly in the dark along the passage which led to the parlour, as my uncle _Toby_ pronounced the word _wife_. --'Tis a shrill penetrating sound of itself, and _Obadiah_ had helped it by leaving the door a little a-jar, so that my mother heard enough of it to imagine herself the subject of the conversation; so laying the edge of her finger across her two lips--holding in her breath, and bending her head a little downwards, with a twist of her neck--(not towards the door, but from it, by which means her ear was brought to the chink)--she listened with all her powers: ----the listening slave, with the Goddess of Silence at his back, could not have given a finer thought for an intaglio. In this attitude I am determined to let her stand for five minutes: till I bring up the affairs of the kitchen (as _Rapin_ does those of the church) to the same period.

My mother was going very gingerly in the dark along the passage which led to the parlour, as my uncle Toby pronounced the word wife. Obadiah had left the door a little ajar, so that my mother heard enough to imagine herself the subject of the conversation. Laying her finger across her lips, and holding her breath, she put her ear to the chink in the door and listened with all her powers. In this attitude I am determined to let her stand for five minutes: till I bring the affairs of the kitchen up to date.

Tristram Shandy

Book 5 - Chapter 5

No ----I think, I said, I would write two volumes every year, provided the vile cough which then tormented me, and which to this hour I dread worse than the devil, would but give me leave--and in another place--(but where, I can't recollect now) speaking of my book as a _machine_, and laying my pen and ruler down cross-wise upon the table, in order to gain the greater credit to it --I swore it should be kept a going at that rate these forty years, if it pleased but the fountain of life to bless me so long with health and good spirits. Now as for my spirits, little have I to lay to their charge--nay so very little (unless the mounting me upon a long stick and playing the fool with me nineteen hours out of the twenty-four, be accusations) that on the contrary, I have much--much to thank 'em for: cheerily have ye made me tread the path of life with all the burthens of it (except its cares) upon my back; in no one moment of my existence, that I remember, have ye once deserted me, or tinged the objects which came in my way, either with sable, or with a sickly green; in dangers ye gilded my horizon with hope, and when DEATH himself knocked at my door--ye bad him come again; and in so gay a tone of careless indifference did ye do it, that he doubted of his commission---- "--There must certainly be some mistake in this matter," quoth he. Now there is nothing in this world I abominate worse, than to be interrupted in a story----and I was that moment telling _Eugenius_ a most tawdry one in my way, of a nun who fancied herself a shell-fish, and of a monk damn'd for eating a muscle, and was shewing him the grounds and justice of the procedure---- "--Did ever so grave a personage get into so vile a scrape?" quoth Death. Thou hast had a narrow escape, _Tristram_, said _Eugenius_, taking hold of my hand as I finished my story---- But there is no _living_, _Eugenius_, replied I, at this rate; for as this _son of a whore_ has found out my lodgings---- --You call him rightly, said _Eugenius_, --for by sin, we are told, he enter'd the world ----I care not which way he enter'd, quoth I, provided he be not in such a hurry to take me out with him--for I have forty volumes to write, and forty thousand things to say and do which no body in the world will say and do for me, except thyself; and as thou seest he has got me by the throat (for _Eugenius_ could scarce hear me speak across the table), and that I am no match for him in the open field, had I not better, whilst these few scatter'd spirits remain, and these two spider legs of mine (holding one of them up to him) are able to support me--had I not better, _Eugenius_, fly for my life? 'Tis my advice, my dear _Tristram_, said _Eugenius_ --Then by heaven! I will lead him a dance he little thinks of----for I will gallop, quoth I, without looking once behind me, to the banks of the _Garonne_; and if I hear him clattering at my heels ----I'll scamper away to mount _Vesuvius_----from thence to _Joppa_, and from _Joppa_ to the world's end; where, if he follows me, I pray God he may break his neck---- --He runs more risk _there_, said _Eugenius_, than thou. _Eugenius's_ wit and affection brought blood into the cheek from whence it had been some months banish'd----'twas a vile moment to bid adieu in; he led me to my chaise----_Allons!_ said I; the postboy gave a crack with his whip----off I went like a cannon, and in half a dozen bounds got into _Dover_.

No - I think, I said, I would write two volumes every year, provided the vile cough which then tormented me, and which I dread worse than the devil, would allow me - and in another place (but where, I can't recollect now) I swore it should be kept going at that rate these forty years, if I were blessed so long with health and good spirits. Now as for my spirits, apart from playing the fool with me nineteen hours out of the twenty-four, I have much to thank 'em for. Cheerily have ye made me tread the path of life with all its burdens upon my back; ye have never once deserted me. In dangers ye gilded my horizon with hope, and when Death himself knocked at my door - ye bade him come again, in so gay and careless a tone that he doubted his mission- 'There must certainly be some mistake,' quoth he. Now there is nothing in this world I hate worse, than to be interrupted in a story - and I was that moment telling Eugenius a most tawdry one, of a nun who fancied herself a shell-fish, and of a monk damned for eating a mussel, and was showing him the justice of the procedure- 'Did ever so grave a person get into so vile a scrape?' quoth Death. 'Thou hast had a narrow escape, Tristram,' said Eugenius, taking my hand as I finished my story. 'But there is no living, Eugenius,' replied I, 'now that this son of a whore has found out my lodgings. I have forty volumes to write, and forty thousand things to say and do which nobody in the world will say and do for me; and as thou seest, Death has got me by the throat (for Eugenius could scarce hear me speak). As I am no match for him in the open field, had I not better, whilst these two spider legs of mine are able to support me - had I not better fly for my life?' ''Tis my advice, my dear Tristram,' said Eugenius. 'Then by heaven! I will lead him a dance - for I will gallop to the banks of the Garonne,' quoth I, 'and if I hear him clattering at my heels I'll scamper away to Mount Vesuvius, and from there to the world's end. If he follows me, I pray God he may break his neck.' 'He runs more risk there,' said Eugenius, 'than thou.' Eugenius's wit and affection brought blood into the cheek from whence it had been some months banished. - 'Twas a vile moment to bid adieu; he led me to my chaise. 'Allons!' said I; the postboy cracked his whip - off I went like a cannon, and in half a dozen bounds got into Dover.

Tristram Shandy

Book 7 - Chapter 1

----Now this is the most puzzled skein of all----for in this last chapter, as far at least as it has help'd me through _Auxerre_, I have been getting forwards in two different journies together, and with the same dash of the pen--for I have got entirely out of _Auxerre_ in this journey which I am writing now, and I am got half way out of _Auxerre_ in that which I shall write hereafter ----There is but a certain degree of perfection in everything; and by pushing at something beyond that, I have brought myself into such a situation, as no traveller ever stood before me; for I am this moment walking across the market-place of _Auxerre_ with my father and my uncle _Toby_, in our way back to dinner----and I am this moment also entering _Lyons_ with my post-chaise broke into a thousand pieces--and I am moreover this moment in a handsome pavillion built by _Pringello_,[7.4] upon the banks of the _Garonne_, which Mons. _Sligniac_ has lent me, and where I now sit rhapsodising all these affairs. ----Let me collect myself, and pursue my journey. [Footnote 7.4: The same Don _Pringello_, the celebrated _Spanish_ architect, of whom my cousin _Antony_ has made such honourable mention in a scholium to the Tale inscribed to his name. --Vid. p. 129, small edit.]

Now this is the most puzzled skein of all - for in this last chapter, I have been getting forwards in two different journeys together - for I have got entirely out of Auxerre in this journey which I am writing now, and I am only half way out of Auxerre in that which I shall write hereafter. In pushing for perfection, I have brought myself into such a situation as no traveller ever stood in before; for I am this moment walking across the market-place of Auxerre with my father and my uncle Toby - and also entering Lyons with my post-chaise broke into a thousand pieces - and I am moreover this instant in a handsome pavilion built by Pringello upon the banks of the Garonne, which Mons. Sligniac has lent me, and where I now sit rhapsodising on all these affairs. - Let me collect myself, and pursue my journey.

Tristram Shandy

Book 7 - Chapter 28

In the same village where my father and my mother dwelt, dwelt also a thin, upright, motherly, notable, good old body of a midwife, who with the help of a little plain good sense, and some years full employment in her business, in which she had all along trusted little to her own efforts, and a great deal to those of dame Nature, --had acquired, in her way, no small degree of reputation in the world: ----by which word _world_, need I in this place inform your worship, that I would be understood to mean no more of it, than a small circle described upon the circle of the great world, of four _English_ miles diameter, or thereabouts, of which the cottage where the good old woman lived, is supposed to be the centre? --She had been left, it seems, a widow in great distress, with three or four small children, in her forty-seventh year; and as she was at that time a person of decent carriage, --grave deportment, --a woman moreover of few words, and withal an object of compassion, whose distress, and silence under it, called out the louder for a friendly lift: the wife of the parson of the parish was touched with pity; and having often lamented an inconvenience, to which her husband's flock had for many years been exposed, inasmuch as there was no such thing as a midwife, of any kind or degree, to be got at, let the case have been never so urgent, within less than six or seven long miles riding; which seven said long miles in dark nights and dismal roads, the country thereabouts being nothing but a deep clay, was almost equal to fourteen; and that in effect was sometimes next to having no midwife at all; it came into her head, that it would be doing as seasonable a kindness to the whole parish, as to the poor creature herself, to get her a little instructed in some of the plain principles of the business, in order to set her up in it. As no woman thereabouts was better qualified to execute the plan she had formed than herself, the gentlewoman very charitably undertook it; and having great influence over the female part of the parish, she found no difficulty in effecting it to the utmost of her wishes. In truth, the parson join'd his interest with his wife's in the whole affair; and in order to do things as they should be, and give the poor soul as good a title by law to practise, as his wife had given by institution, --he chearfully paid the fees for the ordinary's licence himself, amounting in the whole, to the sum of eighteen shillings and four pence; so that betwixt them both, the good woman was fully invested in the real and corporal possession of her office, together with all its _rights, members, and appurtenances whatsoever_. These last words, you must know, were not according to the old form in which such licences, faculties, and powers usually ran, which in like cases had heretofore been granted to the sisterhood. But it was according to a neat _Formula_ of _Didius_ his own devising, who having a particular turn for taking to pieces, and new framing over again, all kind of instruments in that way, not only hit upon this dainty amendment, but coaxed many of the old licensed matrons in the neighbourhood, to open their faculties afresh, in order to have this wham-wham of his inserted. I own I never could envy _Didius_ in these kinds of fancies of his: --But every man to his own taste. --Did not Dr. _Kunastrokius_, that great man, at his leisure hours, take the greatest delight imaginable in combing of asses tails, and plucking the dead hairs out with his teeth, though he had tweezers always in his pocket? Nay, if you come to that, Sir, have not the wisest of men in all ages, not excepting _Solomon_ himself, --have they not had their HOBBY-HORSES; --their running horses, --their coins and their cockle-shells, their drums and their trumpets, their fiddles, their pallets, --their maggots and their butterflies? --and so long as a man rides his HOBBY-HORSE peaceably and quietly along the King's highway, and neither compels you or me to get up behind him, --pray, Sir, what have either you or I to do with it?

In the village where my father and my mother dwelt, lived a thin, upright, motherly, good old body of a midwife, who, with the help of a little plain good sense, and some years employment in her business, in which she trusted little to her own efforts, and a great deal to those of dame Nature, had acquired a reputation in the world: - by the word world, I mean a small circle of about four English miles diameter, with the good old woman's cottage at its centre. She had been left a widow in distress, with three or four small children, in her forty-seventh year; and as she was a grave and decent woman of few words, the parson's wife pitied her; and having often lamented that there was no midwife within seven long miles riding - which was more like fourteen in dark nights and dismal roads, our countryside being all deep clay - it came into her head, that it would be doing a kindness to the whole parish and the poor creature herself, to get her instructed in the business, and set her up in it. The parson cheerfully paid the fees for the midwife's licence, amounting to eighteen shillings and four pence; so that betwixt them both, the good woman was fully invested in the real and corporal possession of her office, together with all its rights, members, and appurtenances whatsoever. These last words, you must know, were not according to the old form in which such licences usually ran. But they follow a neat Formula devised by Didius, who having a particular turn for taking apart and re-framing all kind of instruments, not only hit upon this dainty amendment, but coaxed many of the old licensed matrons in the neighbourhood to open their faculties afresh, in order to have this wham-wham of his inserted. I own I never could envy Didius his fancies. But every man to his own taste. Did not Dr. Kunastrokius, that great man, at his leisure hours, take the greatest delight in combing asses' tails, and plucking the dead hairs out with his teeth? Nay, Sir, have not the wisest men in all ages, even Solomon himself - have they not had their Hobby-Horses; - for example, their race-horses, their coins and cockle-shells, their drums and trumpets, their fiddles, their palettes, their maggots and their butterflies? So long as a man rides his Hobby-Horse peaceably along the King's highway, and compels neither you nor me to get up behind him - pray, Sir, what have you or I to do with it?

Tristram Shandy

Book 1 - Chapter 7

Whatever degree of small merit the act of benignity in favour of the midwife might justly claim, or in whom that claim truly rested, --at first sight seems not very material to this history; ----certain however it was, that the gentlewoman, the parson's wife, did run away at that time with the whole of it: And yet, for my life, I cannot help thinking but that the parson himself, though he had not the good fortune to hit upon the design first, --yet, as he heartily concurred in it the moment it was laid before him, and as heartily parted with his money to carry it into execution, had a claim to some share of it, --if not to a full half of whatever honour was due to it. The world at that time was pleased to determine the matter otherwise. Lay down the book, and I will allow you half a day to give a probable guess at the grounds of this procedure. Be it known then, that, for about five years before the date of the midwife's licence, of which you have had so circumstantial an account, --the parson we have to do with had made himself a country-talk by a breach of all decorum, which he had committed against himself, his station, and his office; --and that was in never appearing better, or otherwise mounted, than upon a lean, sorry, jack-ass of a horse, value about one pound fifteen shillings; who, to shorten all description of him, was full brother to _Rosinante_, as far as similitude congenial could make him; for he answered his description to a hair-breadth in every thing, --except that I do not remember 'tis any where said, that _Rosinante_ was broken-winded; and that, moreover, _Rosinante_, as is the happiness of most _Spanish_ horses, fat or lean, --was undoubtedly a horse at all points. I know very well that the HERO'S horse was a horse of chaste deportment, which may have given grounds for the contrary opinion: But it is as certain at the same time, that _Rosinante's_ continency (as may be demonstrated from the adventure of the _Yanguesian_ carriers) proceeded from no bodily defect or cause whatsoever, but from the temperance and orderly current of his blood. --And let me tell you, Madam, there is a great deal of very good chastity in the world, in behalf of which you could not say more for your life. Let that be as it may, as my purpose is to do extra justice to every creature brought upon the stage of this dramatic work, --I could not stifle this distinction in favour of Don _Quixote's_ horse; ----in all other points, the parson's horse, I say, was just such another, --for he was as lean, and as lank, and as sorry a jade, as HUMILITY herself could have bestrided. In the estimation of here and there a man of weak judgment, it was greatly in the parson's power to have helped the figure of this horse of his, --for he was master of a very handsome demi-peak'd saddle, quilted on the seat with green plush, garnished with a double row of silver-headed studs, and a noble pair of shining brass stirrups, with a housing altogether suitable, of grey superfine cloth, with an edging of black lace, terminating in a deep, black, silk fringe, _poudr d'or_, --all which he had purchased in the pride and prime of his life, together with a grand embossed bridle, ornamented at all points as it should be. ----But not caring to banter his beast, he had hung all these up behind his study door: --and, in lieu of them, had seriously befitted him with just such a bridle and such a saddle, as the figure and value of such a steed might well and truly deserve. In the several sallies about his parish, and in the neighbouring visits to the gentry who lived around him, --you will easily comprehend, that the parson, so appointed, would both hear and see enough to keep his philosophy from rusting. To speak the truth, he never could enter a village, but he caught the attention of both old and young. ----Labour stood still as he pass'd----the bucket hung suspended in the middle of the well, ----the spinning-wheel forgot its round, ----even chuck-farthing and shuffle-cap themselves stood gaping till he had got out of sight; and as his movement was not of the quickest, he had generally time enough upon his hands to make his observations, --to hear the groans of the serious, --and the laughter of the light-hearted; --all which he bore with excellent tranquillity. --His character was, --he loved a jest in his heart--and as he saw himself in the true point of ridicule, he would say he could not be angry with others for seeing him in a light, in which he so strongly saw himself: So that to his friends, who knew his foible was not the love of money, and who therefore made the less scruple in bantering the extravagance of his humour, --instead of giving the true cause, --he chose rather to join in the laugh against himself; and as he never carried one single ounce of flesh upon his own bones, being altogether as spare a figure as his beast, --he would sometimes insist upon it, that the horse was as good as the rider deserved; --that they were, centaur-like, --both of a piece. At other times, and in other moods, when his spirits were above the temptation of false wit, --he would say, he found himself going off fast in a consumption; and, with great gravity, would pretend, he could not bear the sight of a fat horse, without a dejection of heart, and a sensible alteration in his pulse; and that he had made choice of the lean one he rode upon, not only to keep himself in countenance, but in spirits. At different times he would give fifty humorous and apposite reasons for riding a meek-spirited jade of a broken-winded horse, preferably to one of mettle; --for on such a one he could sit mechanically, and meditate as delightfully _de vanitate mundi et fug sculi_, as with the advantage of a death's-head before him; --that, in all other exercitations, he could spend his time, as he rode slowly along, --to as much account as in his study; --that he could draw up an argument in his sermon, --or a hole in his breeches, as steadily on the one as in the other; --that brisk trotting and slow argumentation, like wit and judgment, were two incompatible movements. --But that upon his steed--he could unite and reconcile every thing, --he could compose his sermon--he could compose his cough, ----and, in case nature gave a call that way, he could likewise compose himself to sleep. --In short, the parson upon such encounters would assign any cause but the true cause, --and he with-held the true one, only out of a nicety of temper, because he thought it did honour to him. But the truth of the story was as follows: In the first years of this gentleman's life, and about the time when the superb saddle and bridle were purchased by him, it had been his manner, or vanity, or call it what you will, --to run into the opposite extreme. --In the language of the county where he dwelt, he was said to have loved a good horse, and generally had one of the best in the whole parish standing in his stable always ready for saddling; and as the nearest midwife, as I told you, did not live nearer to the village than seven miles, and in a vile country, --it so fell out that the poor gentleman was scarce a whole week together without some piteous application for his beast; and as he was not an unkind-hearted man, and every case was more pressing and more distressful than the last, --as much as he loved his beast, he had never a heart to refuse him; the upshot of which was generally this, that his horse was either clapp'd, or spavin'd, or greaz'd; --or he was twitter-bon'd, or broken-winded, or something, in short, or other had befallen him, which would let him carry no flesh; --so that he had every nine or ten months a bad horse to get rid of, --and a good horse to purchase in his stead. What the loss on such a balance might amount to, _communibus annis_, I would leave to a special jury of sufferers in the same traffick, to determine; --but let it be what it would, the honest gentleman bore it for many years without a murmur, till at length, by repeated ill accidents of the kind, he found it necessary to take the thing under consideration; and upon weighing the whole, and summing it up in his mind, he found it not only disproportioned to his other expences, but withal so heavy an article in itself, as to disable him from any other act of generosity in his parish: Besides this, he considered that with half the sum thus galloped away, he could do ten times as much good; --and what still weighed more with him than all other considerations put together, was this, that it confined all his charity into one particular channel, and where, as he fancied, it was the least wanted, namely, to the child-bearing and child-getting part of his parish; reserving nothing for the impotent, --nothing for the aged, --nothing for the many comfortless scenes he was hourly called forth to visit, where poverty, and sickness, and affliction dwelt together. For these reasons he resolved to discontinue the expence; and there appeared but two possible ways to extricate him clearly out of it; --and these were, either to make it an irrevocable law never more to lend his steed upon any application whatever, --or else be content to ride the last poor devil, such as they had made him, with all his aches and infirmities, to the very end of the chapter. As he dreaded his own constancy in the first--he very chearfully betook himself to the second; and though he could very well have explained it, as I said, to his honour, --yet, for that very reason, he had a spirit above it; choosing rather to bear the contempt of his enemies, and the laughter of his friends, than undergo the pain of telling a story, which might seem a panegyrick upon himself. I have the highest idea of the spiritual and refined sentiments of this reverend gentleman, from this single stroke in his character, which I think comes up to any of the honest refinements of the peerless knight of _La Mancha_, whom, by the bye, with all his follies, I love more, and would actually have gone farther to have paid a visit to, than the greatest hero of antiquity. But this is not the moral of my story: The thing I had in view was to shew the temper of the world in the whole of this affair. --For you must know, that so long as this explanation would have done the parson credit, --the devil a soul could find it out, --I suppose his enemies would not, and that his friends could not. ----But no sooner did he bestir himself in behalf of the midwife, and pay the expences of the ordinary's licence to set her up, --but the whole secret came out; every horse he had lost, and two horses more than ever he had lost, with all the circumstances of their destruction, were known and distinctly remembered. --The story ran like wild-fire-- "The parson had a returning fit of pride which had just seized him; and he was going to be well mounted once again in his life; and if it was so, 'twas plain as the sun at noon-day, he would pocket the expence of the licence, ten times told, the very first year: --So that every body was left to judge what were his views in this act of charity." What were his views in this, and in every other action of his life, --or rather what were the opinions which floated in the brains of other people concerning it, was a thought which too much floated in his own, and too often broke in upon his rest, when he should have been sound asleep. About ten years ago this gentleman had the good fortune to be made entirely easy upon that score, --it being just so long since he left his parish, --and the whole world at the same time behind him, --and stands accountable to a Judge of whom he will have no cause to complain. But there is a fatality attends the actions of some men: Order them as they will, they pass thro' a certain medium, which so twists and refracts them from their true directions----that, with all the titles to praise which a rectitude of heart can give, the doers of them are nevertheless forced to live and die without it. Of the truth of which, this gentleman was a painful example. ----But to know by what means this came to pass, --and to make that knowledge of use to you, I insist upon it that you read the two following chapters, which contain such a sketch of his life and conversation, as will carry its moral along with it. --When this is done, if nothing stops us in our way, we will go on with the midwife.

Whatever merit that benign act to the midwife might have, at first sight seems not very relevant to this history; it was certain, however, that the parson's wife gained all of it. And yet I cannot help thinking that the parson himself - though he did not hit upon the idea, yet heartily agreed with it, and as heartily parted with his money to see it carried out - had a claim to some share of the honour. The world at that time was pleased to decide otherwise. Lay down the book, and I will allow you half a day to guess at the reason for this. Be it known then, that about five years before the date of the midwife's licence, this very parson had made himself the talk of the country by a breach of all decorum - which he had committed by appearing mounted upon a lean, sorry, jack-ass of a horse, value about one pound fifteen shillings; who was full brother to Rosinante, Don Quixote's old nag. He matched his description in everything, except that I do not remember that Rosinante was broken-winded; and, moreover, Rosinante was undoubtedly a horse at all points. The parson's horse was as lean, and as lank, and as sorry a jade, as Humility herself could have ridden. Now, the parson owned a very handsome demi-peaked saddle, quilted with green plush, garnished with a double row of silver-headed studs, and a noble pair of shining brass stirrups; with a housing of grey superfine cloth, an edging of black lace and a black silk fringe, - all which he had purchased in the pride and prime of his life, together with a grand embossed bridle. But he had hung all these up behind his study door: and, instead, he used just such a bridle and saddle as his steed truly deserved. In riding about his parish, the parson never could enter a village without catching the attention of both old and young. Work ceased as he passed - the bucket hung suspended in the middle of the well - the spinning-wheel forgot its round - even chuck-farthing and shuffle-cap players stood gaping till he rode out of sight; and as his movement was not quick, he had time to hear the groans of the serious, and the laughter of the light-hearted; all which he bore with excellent tranquillity. He loved a jest - and as he saw himself as ridiculous, he would say he could not be angry with others for seeing him in the same light. So to his friends, he chose rather to join in the laugh against himself; and since he was as thin as his beast, he would sometimes insist that the horse was as good as the rider deserved; that they were, centaur-like, both of a piece. At other times, and in other moods, he would say that he found himself going off fast in a consumption; and, with great gravity, would pretend he could not bear the sight of a fat horse; and that he had chosen the lean one to keep himself in spirits. At different times he would give fifty humorous reasons for riding a meek-spirited, broken-winded horse: that on such a one he could sit and meditate; that he could spend his time, as he rode slowly along, as usefully as in his study; that he could draw up a long argument in his sermon that brisk trotting would not allow. Upon his steed he could compose his sermon, and even compose himself to sleep. In short, the parson would name any cause but the true one, which he withheld out of modesty. But the true story was this: in the gentleman's youth, when he bought the superb saddle and bridle, it had been his manner, or vanity, or call it what you will, to go to the opposite extreme. He was said to have loved a good horse, and generally had one of the best in the whole parish in his stable. As the nearest midwife, as I told you, lived seven miles distant from the village, every week the poor gentleman received some piteous application for his beast; and as he was not unkind, he had never the heart to refuse. The upshot generally was, that his horse was either clapped, or spavined, or lamed; or he was twitter-boned, or broken-winded, or something or other; so that the parson had every nine or ten months a bad horse to get rid of, and a good horse to buy in his stead. Despite the cost of this, the honest gentleman bore it for many years without a murmur, till at length, after repeated ill accidents of this kind, he found it necessary to consider the matter. Upon weighing up the whole, he found it so heavy a cost as to disable him from any other act of generosity in his parish. He considered that with half the sum thus galloped away, he could do ten times as much good; but as it was, it confined all charity into the child-bearing part of his parish, where he fancied it was least needed; leaving nothing for the aged, or poor, or sick. There appeared but two possible ways to extricate him from this expense; either to make it a rule to never lend out his steed again - or else to be content to ride the last poor devil, with all his aches and infirmities, to the very end of the chapter. He cheerfully took this second path; and though he could easily have explained it with honour, yet out of humility he chose rather to bear the contempt of his enemies, and the laughter of his friends, than tell the story. I have the highest idea of the sentiments of this reverend gentleman from this stroke in his character, which I think comes up to any of the honest refinements of Don Quixote himself, whom, by the bye, with all his follies, I love more, and would actually have gone farther to have paid a visit to than the greatest hero of antiquity. But this is not the moral of my story. I wished to show the nature of the world in this affair. For so long as this explanation would have done the parson credit, nobody could find it out. But no sooner did he bestir himself on behalf of the midwife, and pay the expenses of her licence, than the whole secret came out; every horse he had lost was distinctly remembered. The story ran like wild-fire - 'The parson had been seized by a fit of pride, and he was going to be well mounted once again; and he would pocket the expense of the licence ten times over, the very first year.' The opinions of other people concerning this often disturbed his rest. But about ten years ago this gentleman had the good fortune to be made entirely easy upon that score, and stands accountable to a Judge of whom he will have no cause to complain. There is a fatality attends the actions of some men: order them as they will, they become twisted from their true directions. Of this, the parson was a painful example. But to know how this came to pass, I insist that you read the two following chapters, which contain such a sketch of his life and conversation as will prove its moral. - When this is done, if nothing stops us in our way, we will go on with the midwife.

Tristram Shandy

Book 1 - Chapter 10

Upon looking back from the end of the last chapter, and surveying the texture of what has been wrote, it is necessary, that upon this page and the three following, a good quantity of heterogeneous matter be inserted to keep up that just balance betwixt wisdom and folly, without which a book would not hold together a single year: nor is it a poor creeping digression (which but for the name of, a man might continue as well going on in the king's highway) which will do the business----no; if it is to be a digression, it must be a good frisky one, and upon a frisky subject too, where neither the horse or his rider are to be caught, but by rebound. The only difficulty, is raising powers suitable to the nature of the service: FANCY is capricious --WIT must not be searched for--and PLEASANTRY (good-natured slut as she is) will not come in at a call, was an empire to be laid at her feet. ----The best way for a man is to say his prayers---- Only if it puts him in mind of his infirmities and defects as well ghostly as bodily--for that purpose, he will find himself rather worse after he has said them than before--for other purposes, better. For my own part, there is not a way either moral or mechanical under heaven that I could think of, which I have not taken with myself in this case: sometimes by addressing myself directly to the soul herself, and arguing the point over and over again with her upon the extent of her own faculties---- ----I never could make them an inch the wider---- Then by changing my system, and trying what could be made of it upon the body, by temperance, soberness, and chastity: These are good, quoth I, in themselves--they are good, absolutely; --they are good, relatively; --they are good for health--they are good for happiness in this world--they are good for happiness in the next---- In short, they were good for everything but the thing wanted; and there they were good for nothing, but to leave the soul just as heaven made it: as for the theological virtues of faith and hope, they give it courage; but then that snivelling virtue of Meekness (as my father would always call it) takes it quite away again, so you are exactly where you started. Now in all common and ordinary cases, there is nothing which I have found to answer so well as this---- ----Certainly, if there is any dependence upon Logic, and that I am not blinded by self-love, there must be something of true genius about me, merely upon this symptom of it, that I do not know what envy is: for never do I hit upon any invention or device which tendeth to the furtherance of good writing, but I instantly make it public; willing that all mankind should write as well as myself. ----Which they certainly will, when they think as little.

Upon looking back from the end of the last chapter, and surveying the texture of what has been wrote, it is necessary that upon this page and the next three, a good quantity of assorted matter should be inserted to keep up that balance betwixt wisdom and folly, without which a book would not hold together: nor will a poor creeping digression do the business - no; it must be a good frisky one, and upon a frisky subject too. The only difficulty is raising powers suitable to the nature of the service: Fancy is capricious - Wit should be spontaneous - and Pleasantry (good-natured slut though she is) will not come at a call, even if an empire were laid at her feet. - The best way is for a man to say his prayers- Only, if it reminds him of his infirmities and defects, he will find himself rather worse after he has said them than before. For my own part, there is not a way either moral or mechanical under heaven that I could think of, which I have not taken in his case: sometimes addressing myself directly to the soul, and then by trying what could be made of it upon the body, by temperance, soberness, and chastity. 'These are good,' quoth I, 'for health - for happiness in this world - and for happiness in the next-' In short, they were good for everything but the thing wanted; and there they were good for nothing, but to leave the soul just as heaven made it. As for the virtues of faith and hope, they give it courage; but then that snivelling virtue Meekness (as my father would always call it) takes it quite away again, so you are exactly where you started. Now in all ordinary cases, there is nothing which I have found to inspire the author's wit and fancy so well as this- - Certainly, if I am not blinded by self-love, there must be something of true genius about me, because I do not know what envy is: for never do I hit upon any invention for the furtherance of good writing, without instantly making it public; wishing that all mankind should write as well as myself. - Which they certainly will, when they think as little.

Tristram Shandy

Book 9 - Chapter 12

My father took a single turn across the room, then sat down, and finished the chapter. The verbs auxiliary we are concerned in here, continued my father, are, _am_; _was_; _have_; _had_; _do_; _did_; _make_; _made_; _suffer_; _shall_; _should_; _will_; _would_; _can_; _could_; _owe_; _ought_; _used_; or _is wont_. --And these varied with tenses, _present_, _past_, _future_, and conjugated with the verb _see_, --or with these questions added to them; --_Is it?_ _Was it?_ _Will it be?_ _Would it be?_ _May it be?_ _Might it be?_ And these again put negatively, _Is it not?_ _Was it not?_ _Ought it not?_ --Or affirmatively, --_It is_; _It was_; _It ought to be_. Or chronologically, --_Has it been always?_ _Lately?_ _How long ago?_ --Or hypothetically, --_If it was?_ _If it was not?_ What would follow? ----If the _French_ should beat the _English?_ If the _Sun_ go out of the _Zodiac?_ Now, by the right use and application of these, continued my father, in which a child's memory should be exercised, there is no one idea can enter his brain, how barren soever, but a magazine of conceptions and conclusions may be drawn forth from it. ----Didst thou ever see a white bear? cried my father, turning his head round to _Trim_, who stood at the back of his chair: --No, an' please your honour, replied the corporal. ----But thou couldst discourse about one, _Trim_, said my father, in case of need? --How is it possible, brother, quoth my uncle _Toby_, if the corporal never saw one? ----'Tis the fact I want, replied my father, --and the possibility of it is as follows. A WHITE BEAR! Very well. Have I ever seen one? Might I ever have seen one? Am I ever to see one? Ought I ever to have seen one? Or can I ever see one? Would I had seen a white bear! (for how can I imagine it?) If I should see a white bear, what would I say? If I should never see a white bear, what then? If I never have, can, must, or shall see a white bear alive; have I ever seen the skin of one? Did I ever see one painted? --described? Have I never dreamed of one? Did my father, mother, uncle, aunt, brothers or sisters, ever see a white bear? What would they give? How would they behave? How would the white bear have behaved? Is he wild? Tame? Terrible? Rough? Smooth? --Is the white bear worth seeing?-- --Is there no sin in it?-- Is it better than a BLACK ONE?

My father took a turn across the room, sat down, and finished the chapter. 'The auxiliary verbs we are concerned in here,' he continued, 'are, am; was; have; had; do; did; make; made; shall; should; will; would; can; could; owe; ought; used; or is wont. And these varied with tenses, present, past, or future, or with these questions added to them - Is it? Was it? Will it be? Would it be? May it be? Might it be? And these again put negatively: Is it not? Was it not? Or chronologically - Has it been always? Lately? How long ago? Or hypothetically: If it was? If it was not? - if the French should beat the English? If the Sun should go out of the Zodiac? 'Now, by the right use of these,' continued my father, 'no idea can enter a child's brain, without a crowd of ideas being drawn forth from it. - Didst thou ever see a white bear?' he cried, turning to Trim. 'No, your honour,' replied the corporal. 'But thou couldst talk about one, Trim,' said my father, 'if needed? 'How is it possible, brother,' quoth my uncle Toby, 'if the corporal never saw one?' 'That is the fact I want,' replied my father. 'The possibility of it is as follows. 'A White Bear! Very well. Have I ever seen one? Might I ever have seen one? Am I ever to see one? Ought I ever to have seen one? Or can I ever see one? 'Would I had seen a white bear! 'If I should see a white bear, what would I say? If I should never see a white bear, what then? 'If I never have, can, must, or shall see a white bear alive; have I ever seen the skin of one? Did I ever see one painted? - described? Have I never dreamed of one? 'Did my father, mother, uncle, aunt, brothers or sisters, ever see a white bear? What would they give? How would they behave? 'How would the white bear have behaved? Is he wild? Tame? Terrible? Rough? Smooth? 'Is the white bear worth seeing? 'Is there no sin in it? 'Is it better than a black one?'

Tristram Shandy

Book 5 - Chapter 43

She cannot, quoth my uncle _Toby_, halting, when they had march'd up to within twenty paces of Mrs. _Wadman's_ door--she cannot, corporal, take it amiss.---- ----She will take it, an' please your honour, said the corporal, just as the _Jew's_ widow at _Lisbon_ took it of my brother _Tom_.---- ----And how was that? quoth my uncle _Toby_, facing quite about to the corporal. Your honour, replied the corporal, knows of _Tom's_ misfortunes; but this affair has nothing to do with them any further than this, That if _Tom_ had not married the widow----or had it pleased God after their marriage, that they had but put pork into their sausages, the honest soul had never been taken out of his warm bed, and dragg'd to the inquisition----'Tis a cursed place--added the corporal, shaking his head, --when once a poor creature is in, he is in, an' please your honour, for ever. 'Tis very true; said my uncle _Toby_, looking gravely at Mrs. _Wadman's_ house, as he spoke. Nothing, continued the corporal, can be so sad as confinement for life--or so sweet, an' please your honour, as liberty. Nothing, _Trim_----said my uncle _Toby_, musing---- Whilst a man is free, --cried the corporal, giving a flourish with his stick thus---- [Illustration] A thousand of my father's most subtle syllogisms could not have said more for celibacy. My uncle _Toby_ look'd earnestly towards his cottage and his bowling-green. The corporal had unwarily conjured up the Spirit of calculation with his wand; and he had nothing to do, but to conjure him down again with his story, and in this form of Exorcism, most un-ecclesiastically did the corporal do it.

'She cannot,' quoth my uncle Toby, halting twenty paces from Mrs. Wadman's door - 'she cannot take it amiss.' 'She will take it, your honour,' said the corporal, 'just as the Jew's widow at Lisbon took it from my brother Tom.' 'And how was that?' quoth my uncle Toby, turning round to face him. 'Your honour,' replied the corporal, 'knows of Tom's misfortunes; if he had not married the widow - or if they had only put pork into their sausages - the honest soul would never have been taken out of his warm bed, and dragged to the inquisition. 'Tis a cursed place; when once a poor creature is in, he is in for ever.' ''Tis very true,' said my uncle Toby, looking gravely at Mrs. Wadman's house as he spoke. 'Nothing,' continued the corporal, 'can be so sad as confinement for life - or so sweet as liberty.' 'Nothing, Trim,' said my uncle, musing. 'Whilst a man is free -' cried the corporal, giving a flourish with his stick thus: My uncle Toby looked earnestly towards his cottage and his bowling-green. The corporal had unwarily conjured up the Spirit of calculation with his wand; so he then began to conjure him down again with his story.

Tristram Shandy

Book 9 - Chapter 4

When the cataplasm was ready, a scruple of _decorum_ had unseasonably rose up in _Susannah's_ conscience about holding the candle, whilst _Slop_ tied it on; _Slop_ had not treated _Susannah's_ distemper with anodynes, --and so a quarrel had ensued betwixt them. ----Oh! oh! ----said _Slop_, casting a glance of undue freedom in _Susannah's_ face, as she declined the office; ----then, I think I know you, madam ----You know me, Sir! cried _Susannah_ fastidiously, and with a toss of her head, levelled evidently, not at his profession, but at the doctor himself, ----you know me! cried _Susannah_ again. ----Doctor _Slop_ clapped his finger and his thumb instantly upon his nostrils; ----_Susannah's_ spleen was ready to burst at it; ----'Tis false, said _Susannah_. --Come, come, Mrs. Modesty, said _Slop_, not a little elated with the success of his last thrust, ----If you won't hold the candle, and look--you may hold it and shut your eyes: --That's one of your popish shifts, cried _Susannah_: --'Tis better, said _Slop_, with a nod, than no shift at all, young woman; ----I defy you, Sir, cried _Susannah_, pulling her shift sleeve below her elbow. It was almost impossible for two persons to assist each other in a surgical case with a more splenetic cordiality. _Slop_ snatched up the cataplasm, ----_Susannah_ snatched up the candle; ----a little this way, said _Slop_; _Susannah_ looking one way, and rowing another, instantly set fire to _Slop's_ wig, which being somewhat bushy and unctuous withal, was burnt out before it was well kindled. ------You impudent whore! cried _Slop_, --(for what is passion, but a wild beast?)--you impudent whore, cried _Slop_, getting upright, with the cataplasm in his hand; ----I never was the destruction of anybody's nose, said _Susannah_, --which is more than you can say: ----Is it? cried _Slop_, throwing the cataplasm in her face; ----Yes, it is, cried _Susannah_, returning the compliment with what was left in the pan.

When Dr Slop's cataplasm, or poultice, was ready, an untimely scruple of decorum made Susannah refuse to hold the candle, whilst Slop put the cataplasm on. Slop had not given Susannah any pain relief for her distemper, and so a quarrel had strung up betwixt them. 'Oh!' said Slop, casting a glance at Susannah; 'then, I think I know you, madam.' 'You know me, Sir!' cried Susannah fastidiously, with a toss of her head. Doctor Slop clapped his finger and his thumb instantly upon his nostrils. Susannah was ready to burst with anger. ''Tis false,' she said. 'Come, come, Mrs. Modesty,' said Slop, somewhat elated with his success, 'if you won't hold the candle and look - hold it and shut your eyes.' 'That's one of your popish shifts,' cried Susannah. ''Tis better,' said Slop, 'than no shift at all, young woman.' 'I defy you, Sir,' cried Susannah, pulling her shift sleeve into sight below her elbow. It was almost impossible for two persons to assist each other in a surgical case with more bad-tempered cordiality. Slop snatched up the cataplasm; Susannah snatched up the candle. 'This way,' said Slop. Susannah, looking one way, and moving another, instantly set fire to Slop's wig, which being somewhat bushy and greasy, burnt out before it was well kindled. 'You impudent whore!' cried Slop, straightening up with the cataplasm in his hand. 'I never destroyed anybody's nose,' said Susannah, 'which is more than you can say!' 'Is it?' cried Slop, throwing the cataplasm in her face. 'Yes, it is,' cried Susannah, returning the compliment with what was left in the pan.

Tristram Shandy

Book 6 - Chapter 3

All womankind, continued _Trim_, (commenting upon his story) from the highest to the lowest, an' please your honour, love jokes; the difficulty is to know how they chuse to have them cut; and there is no knowing that, but by trying, as we do with our artillery in the field, by raising or letting down their breeches, till we hit the mark.---- ----I like the comparison, said my uncle _Toby_, better than the thing itself---- ----Because your honour, quoth the corporal, loves glory, more than pleasure. I hope, _Trim_, answered my uncle _Toby_, I love mankind more than either; and as the knowledge of arms tends so apparently to the good and quiet of the world----and particularly that branch of it which we have practised together in our bowling-green, has no object but to shorten the strides of AMBITION, and intrench the lives and fortunes of the _few_, from the plunderings of the _many_----whenever that drum beats in our ears, I trust, corporal, we shall neither of us want so much humanity and fellow-feeling, as to face about and march. In pronouncing this, my uncle _Toby_ faced about, and march'd firmly as at the head of his company----and the faithful corporal, shouldering his stick, and striking his hand upon his coat-skirt as he took his first step----march'd close behind him down the avenue. ----Now what can their two noddles be about? cried my father to my mother----by all that's strange, they are besieging Mrs. _Wadman_ in form, and are marching round her house to mark out the lines of circumvallation. I dare say, quoth my mother ------------But stop, dear Sir----for what my mother dared to say upon the occasion----and what my father did say upon it----with her replies and his rejoinders, shall be read, perused, paraphrased, commented, and descanted upon--or to say it all in a word, shall be thumb'd over by Posterity in a chapter apart ----I say, by Posterity--and care not, if I repeat the word again--for what has this book done more than the Legation of _Moses_, or the Tale of a Tub, that it may not swim down the gutter of Time along with them? I will not argue the matter: Time wastes too fast: every letter I trace tells me with what rapidity Life follows my pen; the days and hours of it, more precious, my dear _Jenny!_ than the rubies about thy neck, are flying over our heads like light clouds of a windy day, never to return more----everything presses on----whilst thou art twisting that lock, ----see! it grows grey; and every time I kiss thy hand to bid adieu, and every absence which follows it, are preludes to that eternal separation which we are shortly to make.---- ----Heaven have mercy upon us both!

'All womankind,' continued Trim, 'from the highest to the lowest, love jokes; the difficulty is to know what sort; and there is no knowing that, but by trying, as we do with our artillery in the field, by raising or letting down their breeches, till we hit the mark.' 'I like the comparison,' said my uncle Toby, 'better than the thing itself.' 'Because your honour,' quoth the corporal, 'loves glory more than pleasure.' 'I hope, Trim,' answered my uncle, 'I love mankind more than either; and as the knowledge of arms tends to the good and quiet of the world - particularly that branch of it which we have practised together on our bowling-green - and keeps the lives of the few, from the plunderings of the many - whenever that drum beats, I trust, corporal, we shall neither of us lack the humanity and fellow-feeling to face about and march.' In pronouncing this, my uncle Toby turned around, and marched firmly as if at the head of his company - and the faithful corporal, shouldering his stick, marched close behind him down the avenue. 'Now what can their two noddles be about?' cried my father to my mother; 'by all that's strange, they are besieging Mrs. Wadman, and are marching round her house to mark out the surrounding lines.' 'I dare say-' quoth my mother- - But stop, dear Sir - for what my mother dared to say upon the occasion - and what my father did say, with her replies, shall be read, perused, commented on, and in short, thumbed over by Posterity in a separate chapter. - I say, by Posterity - for what has this book done more than the Legation of Moses, or the Tale of a Tub, that it may not swim down the gutter of Time along with them? I will not argue the matter: Time wastes too fast: every letter I write tells me how rapidly Life follows my pen; the days of it, more precious, my dear Jenny! than the rubies about thy neck, are flying over our heads like light clouds on a windy day, never to return - everything presses on - whilst thou art twisting that lock of hair, see! it grows grey; and every adieu, and every absence which follows it, are preludes to that eternal separation which we are shortly to make. Heaven have mercy upon us both!

Tristram Shandy

Book 9 - Chapter 8

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

When my uncle Toby got his map of Namur, he began immediately to study it diligently; for since his recovery depended upon the passions of his mind, he needed to make himself master of his subject, so as to be able to talk of it without emotion. In a fortnight's close application, which, by the bye, did my uncle Toby's wound upon his groin no good, - he was able, with the help of Gobesius's military architecture and pyroballogy, translated from the Flemish, to form his discourse with passable clarity; and after two months, he was right eloquent upon it, and could not only attack the advanced counterscarp, but was able to cross the Maes and Sambre, make diversions as far as Vauban's line, and give his visitors as distinct a history of these attacks, as of that of the gate of St. Nicolas, where he had received his wound. But desire of knowledge, like the thirst of riches, increases with the acquisition of it. The more my uncle Toby pored over his map, the more he took a liking to it! The more he drank of this sweet fountain of science, the greater was his thirst, so that before the first year of his confinement had ended, there was scarce a fortified town in Italy or Flanders of which he had not procured a plan, carefully collecting the histories of their sieges, their demolitions, and their improvements, which he would read with such intense delight that he would forget himself, his wound, his confinement and his dinner. In the second year my uncle Toby purchased Ramelli and Cataneo, translated from the Italian; Stevinus, Moralis, the Chevalier de Ville, Lorini, Cochorn, Sheeter, the Count de Pagan, the Marshal Vauban, and Monsignor Blondel, with almost as many books of military architecture as Don Quixote had of chivalry in his library. Towards the beginning of the third year, in 1699, my uncle Toby found it necessary to understand a little of projectiles. He began with Tartaglia, the first man who detected that a cannon-ball could not do its mischief along a right line. - This Tartaglia proved to be impossible. - Endless is the search of Truth. No sooner was my uncle Toby satisfied which road the cannon-ball did not go, but he resolved to find out which road the ball did go. For this purpose he was obliged to set off afresh with old Maltus, and studied him devoutly. Next came Galileo and Torricellius, wherein, by certain Geometrical rules, he found the precise part to be a Parabola - or else an Hyperbola - and that the parameter of the conic section of the said path was to the quantity and amplitude in a direct ratio as the whole line to the sine of double the angle of incidence formed by the breech upon an horizontal plane; and that the semiparameter- Stop! my dear uncle Toby - stop! Go not one foot farther into this thorny and bewildered track! intricate are the mazes of this labyrinth! intricate are the troubles which the pursuit of this bewitching phantom Knowledge will bring upon thee. O my uncle - fly, fly from it as from a serpent. Is it fit that thou should'st sit up, with the wound upon thy groin, whole nights baking thy blood with hectic watchings? Alas! 'twill exasperate thy symptoms - evaporate thy spirits - waste thy strength - impair thy health - and hasten all the infirmities of thy old age. - O my uncle! my uncle Toby.

Tristram Shandy

Book 2 - Chapter 3

If the reader has not a clear conception of the rood and the half of ground which lay at the bottom of my uncle _Toby's_ kitchen-garden, and which was the scene of so many of his delicious hours, --the fault is not in me, --but in his imagination; --for I am sure I gave him so minute a description, I was almost ashamed of it. When FATE was looking forwards one afternoon, into the great transactions of future times, --and recollected for what purposes this little plot, by a decree fast bound down in iron, had been destined, ---she gave a nod to NATURE, --'twas enough --Nature threw half a spade full of her kindliest compost upon it, with just so _much_ clay in it, as to retain the forms of angles and indentings, --and so _little_ of it too, as not to cling to the spade, and render works of so much glory, nasty in foul weather. My uncle _Toby_ came down, as the reader has been informed, with plans along with him, of almost every fortified town in _Italy_ and _Flanders_; so let the Duke of _Marlborough_, or the allies, have set down before what town they pleased, my uncle _Toby_ was prepared for them. His way, which was the simplest one in the world, was this; as soon as ever a town was invested--(but sooner when the design was known) to take the plan of it (let it be what town it would), and enlarge it upon a scale to the exact size of his bowling-green; upon the surface of which, by means of a large role of packthread, and a number of small piquets driven into the ground, at the several angles and redans, he transferred the lines from his paper; then taking the profile of the place, with its works, to determine the depths and slopes of the ditches, --the talus of the glacis, and the precise height of the several banquets, parapets, &c. --he set the corporal to work----and sweetly went it on: ----The nature of the soil, --the nature of the work itself, --and above all, the good-nature of my uncle _Toby_ sitting by from morning to night, and chatting kindly with the corporal upon past-done deeds, --left LABOUR little else but the ceremony of the name. When the place was finished in this manner, and put into a proper posture of defence, --it was invested, --and my uncle _Toby_ and the corporal began to run their first parallel. ----I beg I may not be interrupted in my story, by being told, _That the first parallel should be at least three hundred toises distant from the main body of the place, --and that I have not left a single inch for it_; ------for my uncle _Toby_ took the liberty of incroaching upon his kitchen-garden, for the sake of enlarging his works on the bowling-green, and for that reason generally ran his first and second parallels betwixt two rows of his cabbages and his cauliflowers; the conveniences and inconveniences of which will be considered at large in the history of my uncle _Toby's_ and the corporal's campaigns, of which, this I'm now writing is but a sketch, and will be finished, if I conjecture right, in three pages (but there is no guessing) ----The campaigns themselves will take up as many books; and therefore I apprehend it would be hanging too great a weight of one kind of matter in so flimsy a performance as this, to rhapsodize them, as I once intended, into the body of the work----surely they had better be printed apart, ----we'll consider the affair----so take the following sketch of them in the meantime.

If the reader has not a clear idea of the quarter-acre of ground which lay at the bottom of my uncle Toby's kitchen-garden, and which was the scene of so many of his delicious hours - the fault is not in me, but in the reader's imagination; for I gave him a minute description. Nature blessed this plot with her kindliest compost, just enough to keep shape, but not so much as to cling to the spade, and render such glorious works nasty in foul weather. My uncle Toby came down, as the reader has been informed, with the plans of almost every fortified town in Italy and Flanders. The Duke of Marlborough, or the allies, might go where they pleased; my uncle Toby was prepared for them. He would take the plan of a town, and enlarge it upon a scale to the exact size of his bowling-green; upon the surface of which, by means of a large roll of thread, and many small pickets driven into the ground, he transferred the lines from his paper. Then, on deciding the depths and slopes of the ditches, the height of the parapets, &c., he set the corporal to work - and sweetly went it on. The nature of the soil, the nature of the work itself, and above all, the good-nature of my uncle Toby sitting by from morning to night, and chatting kindly with the corporal upon past deeds, left Labour little else but the ceremony of the name. When the place was finished in this manner, my uncle Toby and the corporal began to run their first parallel. - I beg you not to interrupt by telling me 'That the first parallel should be at least six hundred yards distant - and that I have not left a single inch for it'; for my uncle Toby extended his works from the bowling-green onto his kitchen-garden, so that his first and second parallels ran betwixt two rows of cabbages and cauliflowers; the inconveniences of which will be considered in the history of my uncle Toby's campaigns, of which this is but a sketch, and will be finished in perhaps three pages (but there is no guessing). - The campaigns themselves will take three books; and therefore had better be printed apart - but we'll take the following sketch of them in the meantime.

Tristram Shandy

Book 6 - Chapter 21

'Tis a point settled, --and I mention it for the comfort of _Confucius_,[5.2] who is apt to get entangled in telling a plain story--that provided he keeps along the line of his story, --he may go backwards and forwards as he will, --'tis still held to be no digression. This being premised, I take the benefit of the _act of going backwards_ myself. [Footnote 5.2: Mr. _Shandy_ is supposed to mean ******** *** Esq.; member for ******, ----and not the _Chinese_ Legislator.]

'Tis a settled thing that, provided an author keeps along the line of his story, he may go backwards and forwards as he wishes; 'tis not considered to be a digression. Therefore I take the benefit of going backwards myself.

Tristram Shandy

Book 5 - Chapter 25

It was to my uncle _Toby's_ eternal honour, ----though I tell it only for the sake of those, who, when coop'd in betwixt a natural and a positive law, know not, for their souls, which way in the world to turn themselves ----That notwithstanding my uncle _Toby_ was warmly engaged at that time in carrying on the siege of _Dendermond_, parallel with the allies, who pressed theirs on so vigorously, that they scarce allowed him time to get his dinner----that nevertheless he gave up _Dendermond_, though he had already made a lodgment upon the counterscarp; --and bent his whole thoughts towards the private distresses at the inn; and except that he ordered the garden gate to be bolted up, by which he might be said to have turned the siege of _Dendermond_ into a blockade, --he left _Dendermond_ to itself--to be relieved or not by the _French_ king, as the _French_ king thought good; and only considered how he himself should relieve the poor lieutenant and his son. ----That kind BEING, who is a friend to the friendless, shall recompence thee for this. Thou hast left this matter short, said my uncle _Toby_ to the corporal, as he was putting him to bed, ----and I will tell thee in what, _Trim_. ----In the first place, when thou madest an offer of my services to _Le Fever_, ----as sickness and travelling are both expensive, and thou knowest he was but a poor lieutenant, with a son to subsist as well as himself out of his pay, --that thou didst not make an offer to him of my purse; because, had he stood in need, thou knowest, _Trim_, he had been as welcome to it as myself. ----Your honour knows, said the corporal, I had no orders; ----True, quoth my uncle _Toby_, --thou didst very right, _Trim_, as a soldier, --but certainly very wrong as a man. In the second place, for which, indeed, thou hast the same excuse, continued my uncle _Toby_, ----when thou offeredst him whatever was in my house, ----thou shouldst have offered him my house too: ----A sick brother officer should have the best quarters, _Trim_, and if we had him with us, --we could tend and look to him: ----Thou art an excellent nurse thyself, _Trim_, --and what with thy care of him, and the old woman's, and his boy's, and mine together, we might recruit him again at once, and set him upon his legs.------ ----In a fortnight or three weeks, added my uncle _Toby_, smiling, ----he might march. ----He will never march; an' please your honour, in this world, said the corporal: ----He will march; said my uncle _Toby_, rising up, from the side of the bed, with one shoe off: ----An' please your honour, said the corporal, he will never march but to his grave: ----He shall march, cried my uncle _Toby_, marching the foot which had a shoe on, though without advancing an inch, --he shall march to his regiment. ----He cannot stand it, said the corporal; ----He shall be supported, said my uncle _Toby_; ----He'll drop at last, said the corporal, and what will become of his boy? ----He shall not drop, said my uncle _Toby_, firmly. ----A-well-o'-day, --do what we can for him, said _Trim_, maintaining his point, --the poor soul will die: ----He shall not die, by G--, cried my uncle _Toby_. --The ACCUSING SPIRIT, which flew up to heaven's chancery with the oath, blush'd as he gave it in; --and the RECORDING ANGEL, as he wrote it down, dropp'd a tear upon the word, and blotted it out for ever.

It was to my uncle Toby's eternal honour, that although he was warmly engaged at that time in carrying on the siege of Dendermond, and had already made a lodgment upon the counterscarp, nevertheless he gave it up, and bent his whole thoughts towards the private distresses at the inn; and except that he ordered the garden gate to be bolted up, by which he might be said to have turned the siege into a blockade, he left Dendermond to itself; and only considered how to relieve the poor lieutenant and his son. That kind being, who is a friend to the friendless, shall recompense thee for this. As corporal Trim was putting him to bed, my uncle Toby said, 'I tell thee, Trim: when thou offered'st my services to Le Fever - as sickness and travelling are expensive for a poor lieutenant, with a son to support - thou shouldst have made an offer to him of my purse; he would have been welcome to it.' 'Your honour gave me no orders,' said the corporal. 'True,' quoth my uncle; 'thou didst very right, Trim, as a soldier, but very wrong as a man. And when thou offered'st him whatever was in my house, thou shouldst have offered him my house too. A sick brother officer should have the best quarters, Trim, and we could tend and look to him. Thou art an excellent nurse, Trim, and with thy care, and the old woman's, and his boy's, and mine together, we might set him upon his legs: in a fortnight or three weeks, he might march.' 'He will never march, your honour, in this world,' said the corporal. 'He will march,' said my uncle Toby, rising up, with one shoe off. 'An' please your honour,' said the corporal, 'he will never march but to his grave.' 'He shall march,' cried my uncle Toby, marching the foot which had a shoe on, though without advancing an inch; 'he shall march to his regiment.' 'He cannot stand,' said the corporal. 'He shall be supported,' said my uncle Toby. 'He'll drop,' said the corporal, 'and what will become of his boy? do what we can for him, the poor soul will die.' 'He shall not die, by G__,' cried my uncle Toby. - The Accusing Spirit, which flew up to heaven with the oath, blushed as he gave it in; and the Recording Angel, as he wrote it down, dropped a tear upon the word, and blotted it out for ever.

Tristram Shandy

Book 6 - Chapter 8: THE STORY OF LE FEVER CONTINUED

Was it _Mackay's_ regiment, quoth my uncle _Toby_, where the poor grenadier was so unmercifully whipp'd at _Bruges_ about the ducats? --O Christ! he was innocent! cried _Trim_, with a deep sigh. --And he was whipp'd, may it please your honour, almost to death's door. --They had better have shot him outright, as he begg'd, and he had gone directly to heaven, for he was as innocent as your honour. ------I thank thee, _Trim_, quoth my uncle _Toby_. ----I never think of his, continued _Trim_, and my poor brother _Tom's_ misfortunes, for we were all three school-fellows, but I cry like a coward. ----Tears are no proof of cowardice, _Trim_. --I drop them oft-times myself, cried my uncle _Toby_. ----I know your honour does, replied _Trim_, and so am not ashamed of it myself. --But to think, may it please your honour, continued _Trim_, a tear stealing into the corner of his eye as he spoke--to think of two virtuous lads with hearts as warm in their bodies, and as honest as God could make them--the children of honest people, going forth with gallant spirits to seek their fortunes in the world--and fall into such evils! --poor _Tom!_ to be tortured upon a rack for nothing--but marrying a Jew's widow who sold sausages--honest _Dick Johnson's_ soul to be scourged out of his body, for the ducats another man put into his knapsack! --O! --these are misfortunes, cried _Trim_, --pulling out his handkerchief--these are misfortunes, may it please your honour, worth lying down and crying over. --My father could not help blushing. 'Twould be a pity, _Trim_, quoth my uncle _Toby_, thou shouldst ever feel sorrow of thy own--thou feelest it so tenderly for others. --Alack-o-day, replied the corporal, brightening up his face------your honour knows I have neither wife or child ----I can have no sorrows in this world. ----My father could not help smiling. --As few as any man, _Trim_, replied my uncle _Toby_; nor can I see how a fellow of thy light heart can suffer, but from the distress of poverty in thy old age--when thou art passed all services, _Trim_--and hast outlived thy friends. ----An' please your honour, never fear, replied _Trim_, chearily. ----But I would have thee never fear, _Trim_, replied my uncle _Toby_, and therefore, continued my uncle _Toby_, throwing down his crutch, and getting up upon his legs as he uttered the word _therefore_--in recompence, _Trim_, of thy long fidelity to me, and that goodness of thy heart I have had such proofs of--whilst thy master is worth a shilling----thou shalt never ask elsewhere, _Trim_, for a penny. _Trim_ attempted to thank my uncle _Toby_--but had not power----tears trickled down his cheeks faster than he could wipe them off --He laid his hands upon his breast----made a bow to the ground, and shut the door. ----I have left _Trim_ my bowling-green, cried my uncle _Toby_. ----My father smiled. ------I have left him moreover a pension, continued my uncle _Toby_. ----My father looked grave.

'Was it Mackay's regiment,' quoth my uncle Toby, 'where the poor grenadier was so unmercifully whipped about the ducats?' 'O Christ! he was innocent!' cried Trim, with a deep sigh. 'And he was whipped, your honour, almost to death's door.' 'I thank thee, Trim,' quoth my uncle Toby. 'I never think of it,' continued Trim, 'and my poor brother Tom's misfortunes - for we were all school-fellows - without crying like a coward.' 'Tears are no proof of cowardice, Trim. I drop them often myself,' cried my uncle Toby. 'I know your honour does,' replied Trim, 'and so am not ashamed of it. - But to think of two virtuous lads with hearts as warm and honest as God could make them - going forth with gallant spirits to seek their fortunes - and falling into such evils! poor Tom! to be tortured upon a rack for nothing but marrying a Jew's widow who sold sausages - and honest Dick Johnson's soul to be scourged out of his body, for the ducats another man put into his knapsack! O! these are misfortunes, your honour, worth lying down and crying over.' My father could not help blushing. ''Twould be a pity, Trim,' quoth my uncle Toby, 'if thou shouldst ever feel sorrow of thy own - thou feelest it so tenderly for others.' 'Alack-o-day,' replied the corporal, brightening up, 'your honour knows I have neither wife or child - I can have no sorrows in this world.' My father could not help smiling. 'As few as any man, Trim,' replied my uncle Toby; 'yet thou couldst suffer from the distress of poverty in thy old age, when thou hast outlived thy friends.' 'Never fear, your honour,' replied Trim cheerily. 'But I would have thee never fear, Trim,' replied my uncle; 'and therefore' - standing up - 'therefore in recompense of thy long fidelity to me, and the goodness of thy heart - thou shalt never ask elsewhere, Trim, for a penny.' Trim attempted to thank my uncle Toby - but tears trickled down his cheeks faster than he could wipe them off. He laid his hands upon his breast - made a bow, and shut the door. 'I have left Trim my bowling-green,' cried my uncle Toby. - My father smiled. 'I have left him moreover a pension,' continued my uncle Toby. - My father looked grave.

Tristram Shandy

Book 4 - Chapter 4

Whilst my uncle _Toby_ was whistling _Lillabullero_ to my father, --Dr. _Slop_ was stamping, and cursing and damning at _Obadiah_ at a most dreadful rate, ------it would have done your heart good, and cured you, Sir, for ever of the vile sin of swearing, to have heard him; I am determined therefore to relate the whole affair to you. When Dr. _Slop's_ maid delivered the green bays bag with her master's instruments in it, to _Obadiah_, she very sensibly exhorted him to put his head and one arm through the strings, and ride with it slung across his body: so undoing the bow-knot, to lengthen the strings for him, without any more ado, she helped him on with it. However, as this, in some measure, unguarded the mouth of the bag, lest anything should bolt out in galloping back, at the speed _Obadiah_ threatened, they consulted to take it off again: and in the great care and caution of their hearts, they had taken the two strings and tied them close (pursing up the mouth of the bag first) with half a dozen hard knots, each of which _Obadiah_, to make all safe, had twitched and drawn together with all the strength of his body. This answered all that _Obadiah_ and the maid intended; but was no remedy against some evils which neither he or she foresaw. The instruments, it seems, as tight as the bag was tied above, had so much room to play in it, towards the bottom (the shape of the bag being conical) that _Obadiah_ could not make a trot of it, but with such a terrible jingle, what with the _tire tte_, _forceps_, and _squirt_, as would have been enough, had _Hymen_ been taking a jaunt that way, to have frightened him out of the country; but when _Obadiah_ accelerated his motion, and from a plain trot assayed to prick his coach-horse into a full gallop----by Heaven! Sir, the jingle was incredible. As _Obadiah_ had a wife and three children----the turpitude of fornication, and the many other political ill consequences of this jingling, never once entered his brain, ----he had however his objection, which came home to himself, and weighed with him, as it has oft-times done with the greatest patriots. ----"_The poor fellow, Sir, was not able to hear himself whistle._"

Whilst my uncle Toby was whistling Lillabullero, Dr. Slop was stamping, and cursing Obadiah most dreadfully. - It would have cured you, Sir, for ever of the vile sin of swearing, to have heard him; I am determined therefore to relate the whole affair to you. When Dr. Slop's maid gave the green baize bag with her master's instruments in it to Obadiah, she very sensibly exhorted him to put his head and one arm through the strings, and ride with it slung across his body; and undoing the bow-knot, she helped him on with it. However, this loosened the mouth of the bag; so, lest anything should bolt out as Obadiah galloped back, they took it off again: and with great care and caution, they pursed up the mouth of the bag and tied the two strings with half a dozen hard knots, which Obadiah pulled together with all his strength. This solved the problem as they intended; but caused some evils which neither had foreseen. Although the bag was tied tight at its neck, the instruments had so much room to move in at the bottom that Obadiah could not go at a trot without a terrible jingle; but when he sped up, and pricked his horse into a full gallop - by Heaven! Sir, the jingle was incredible. As the poor fellow said,- 'he was not able to hear himself whistle.'

Tristram Shandy

Book 3 - Chapter 7

The abbess of _Andoillets_, which, if you look into the large set of provincial maps now publishing at _Paris_, you will find situated amongst the hills which divide _Burgundy_ from _Savoy_, being in danger of an _Anchylosis_ or stiff joint (the _sinovia_ of her knee becoming hard by long matins), and having tried every remedy----first, prayers and thanksgiving; then invocations to all the saints in heaven promiscuously----then particularly to every saint who had ever had a stiff leg, before her----then touching it with all the reliques of the convent, principally with the thigh-bone of the man of _Lystra_, who had been impotent from his youth----then wrapping it up in her veil when she went to bed--then cross-wise her rosary--then bringing in to her aid the secular arm, and anointing it with oils and hot fat of animals----then treating it with emollient and resolving fomentations----then with poultices of marsh-mallows, mallows, bonus Henricus, white lillies and fenugreek--then taking the woods, I mean the smoak of 'em, holding her scapulary across her lap----then decoctions of wild chicory, water-cresses, chervil, sweet cecily and cochlearia----and nothing all this while answering, was prevailed on at last to try the hot baths of _Bourbon_----so having first obtain'd leave of the visitor-general to take care of her existence--she ordered all to be got ready for her journey: a novice of the convent of about seventeen, who had been troubled with a whitloe in her middle finger, by sticking it constantly into the abbess's cast poultices, &c. --had gained such an interest, that overlooking a sciatical old nun, who might have been set up for ever by the hot-baths of _Bourbon_, _Margarita_, the little novice, was elected as the companion of the journey. An old calesh, belonging to the abbesse, lined with green frize, was ordered to be drawn out into the sun--the gardener of the convent being chosen muleteer--led out the two old mules, to clip the hair from the rump-ends of their tails, whilst a couple of lay-sisters were busied, the one in darning the lining, and the other in sewing on the shreads of yellow binding, which the teeth of time had unravelled----the under-gardener dress'd the muleteer's hat in hot wine-lees----and a taylor sat musically at it, in a shed over-against the convent, in assorting four dozen of bells for the harness, whistling to each bell, as he tied it on with a thong.---- ----The carpenter and the smith of _Andoillets_ held a council of wheels; and by seven, the morning after, all look'd spruce, and was ready at the gate of the convent for the hot-baths of _Bourbon_--two rows of the unfortunate stood ready there an hour before. The abbess of _Andoillets_, supported by _Margarita_ the novice, advanced slowly to the calesh, both clad in white, with their black rosaries hanging at their breasts---- ----There was a simple solemnity in the contrast: they entered the calesh; and nuns in the same uniform, sweet emblem of innocence, each occupied a window, and as the abbess and _Margarita_ look'd up--each (the sciatical poor nun excepted)--each stream'd out the end of her veil in the air--then kiss'd the lilly hand which let it go: the good abbess and _Margarita_ laid their hands saint-wise upon their breasts--look'd up to heaven--then to them--and look'd "God bless you, dear sisters." I declare I am interested in this story, and wish I had been there. The gardener, whom I shall now call the muleteer, was a little, hearty, broad-set, good-natured, chattering, toping kind of a fellow, who troubled his head very little with the _hows_ and _whens_ of life; so had mortgaged a month of his conventical wages in a borrachio, or leathern cask of wine, which he had disposed behind the calesh, with a large russet-coloured riding-coat over it, to guard it from the sun; and as the weather was hot, and he not a niggard of his labours, walking ten times more than he rode--he found more occasions than those of nature, to fall back to the rear of his carriage; till by frequent coming and going, it had so happen'd, that all his wine had leak'd out at the _legal_ vent of the borrachio, before one half of the journey was finish'd. Man is a creature born to habitudes. The day had been sultry--the evening was delicious--the wine was generous--the _Burgundian_ hill on which it grew was steep--a little tempting bush over the door of a cool cottage at the foot of it, hung vibrating in full harmony with the passions--a gentle air rustled distinctly through the leaves-- "Come--come, thirsty muleteer--come in." --The muleteer was a son of _Adam_; I need not say a word more. He gave the mules, each of 'em, a sound lash, and looking in the abbess's and _Margarita's_ faces (as he did it)--as much as to say "here I am"--he gave a second good crack--as much as to say to his mules, "get on"----so slinking behind, he enter'd the little inn at the foot of the hill. The muleteer, as I told you, was a little, joyous, chirping fellow, who thought not of to-morrow, nor of what had gone before, or what was to follow it, provided he got but his scantling of Burgundy, and a little chit-chat along with it; so entering into a long conversation, as how he was chief gardener to the convent of _Andoillets_, &c. &c., and out of friendship for the abbess and Mademoiselle _Margarita_, who was only in her noviciate, he had come along with them from the confines of _Savoy_, &c. &c. --and as how she had got a white swelling by her devotions--and what a nation of herbs he had procured to mollify her humours, &c. &c., and that if the waters of _Bourbon_ did not mend that leg--she might as well be lame of both--&c. &c. &c. --He so contrived his story, as absolutely to forget the heroine of it--and with her the little novice, and what was a more ticklish point to be forgot than both--the two mules; who being creatures that take advantage of the world, inasmuch as their parents took it of them--and they not being in a condition to return the obligation _downwards_ (as men and women and beasts are)--they do it side-ways, and long-ways, and back-ways--and up hill, and down hill, and which way they can. ------Philosophers, with all their ethicks, have never considered this rightly--how should the poor muleteer, then in his cups, consider it at all? he did not in the least--'tis time we do; let us leave him then in the vortex of his element, the happiest and most thoughtless of mortal men----and for a moment let us look after the mules, the abbess, and _Margarita_. By virtue of the muleteer's two last strokes the mules had gone quietly on, following their own consciences up the hill, till they had conquer'd about one half of it; when the elder of them, a shrewd crafty old devil, at the turn of an angle, giving a side glance, and no muleteer behind them---- By my fig! said she, swearing, I'll go no further ----And if I do, replied the other, they shall make a drum of my hide.---- And so with one consent they stopp'd thus----

The abbess of Andoillets, which is situated amongst the hills between Burgundy and Savoy, having a stiff knee joint, tried every remedy: first, prayers and thanksgiving; then invocations to all the saints in heaven promiscuously - then particularly to every saint who had ever had a stiff leg; then touching it with all the relics in the convent, principally the thigh-bone of the man of Lystra, who had been impotent from his youth - then wrapping it up in her veil or her rosary - then trying secular aids, anointing it with oils and fomentations - then with poultices of marsh-mallows, lilies and fenugreek - then decoctions of wild chicory, water-cresses, chervil and sweet Cecily. When none of these worked, she decided to try the hot baths of Bourbon - so she ordered all to be got ready for her journey. A novice of about seventeen, Margarita, was elected as her companion. An old carriage was ordered to be drawn out into the sun. The gardener of the convent, being chosen as muleteer, led out the two old mules, whilst a couple of lay-sisters were busy darning the carriage lining and sewing on the shreds of yellow binding, which the teeth of time had unravelled. A tailor sat musically in a shed, assorting four dozen bells for the harness, whistling to each bell as he tied it on. - By seven the next morning, all looked spruce, and was ready at the convent gate. The abbess of Andoillets, supported by Margarita the novice, advanced slowly to the carriage; both were clad in white, with their black rosaries hanging at their breasts. - They entered; and nuns in the same uniform, sweet emblem of innocence, looked in, each kissing the lily hand of the good abbess, who blessed them. I declare I am interested in this story, and wish I had been there. The gardener, whom I shall now call the muleteer, was a little, hearty, good-natured, chattering, drinking fellow, who had mortgaged a month of his wages in a leather cask of wine, which he had put behind the carriage, with a large russet riding-coat over it, to guard it from the sun. As the weather was hot, and he was active, walking ten times more than he rode, he found many occasions to fall back to the rear of his carriage; till all his wine was gone before the journey was half finished. Man is a creature of habit. The day had been sultry - the evening was delicious - the wine was generous - the Burgundian hill was steep - a little tempting bush over the door of an inn at the foot of it, rustled with a gentle air - 'Come, thirsty muleteer - come in.' - The muleteer gave the mules a sound lash, and looking in the abbess's and Margarita's faces as if to say 'here I am' he gave his mules a second good crack to get them moving, and slinking behind, he entered the inn. The muleteer, as I told you, was a little, joyous, chirping fellow. He thought not of tomorrow, provided he got his wine, and a little chit-chat along with it; so entering into a long conversation, about how he was chief gardener to the convent of Andoillets, &c. &c., and how she had got a white swelling by kneeling, and what herbs he had got for her, &c. &c., and that if the waters of Bourbon did not mend that leg, she might as well be lame, &c. &c.- - In telling his story, he absolutely forgot about the heroine of it - as well as the little novice - and what was more important, the two mules; who are creatures that take advantage of the world, and would rather go sideways, longways, and backwards than forwards - and up hill, down hill, and which way they can. The muleteer did not consider this. Let us leave him then, the happiest and most thoughtless of mortal men - and let us look for the mules, the abbess, and Margarita. After the muleteer's two last strokes the mules had gone quietly on up the hill, till they had conquered about half of it; when the elder of them, a shrewd crafty old devil, glancing behind and seeing no muleteer- 'By my fig!' swore she, 'I'll go no further.' 'And if I do,' replied the other, 'they shall make a drum of my hide.' And so with one consent they stopped.

Tristram Shandy

Book 7 - Chapter 21

There is nothing shews the character of my father and my uncle _Toby_, in a more entertaining light, than their different manner of deportment, under the same accident----for I call not love a misfortune, from a persuasion, that a man's heart is ever the better for it ----Great God! what must my uncle _Toby's_ have been, when 'twas all benignity without it. My father, as appears from many of his papers, was very subject to this passion, before he married----but from a little subacid kind of drollish impatience in his nature, whenever it befell him, he would never submit to it like a christian; but would pish, and huff, and bounce, and kick, and play the Devil, and write the bitterest Philippicks against the eye that ever man wrote----there is one in verse upon somebody's eye or other, that for two or three nights together, had put him by his rest; which in his first transport of resentment against it, he begins thus: "A Devil 'tis----and mischief such doth work As never yet did _Pagan_, _Jew_, or _Turk_."[8.5] In short, during the whole paroxism, my father was all abuse and foul language, approaching rather towards malediction----only he did not do it with as much method as _Ernulphus_----he was too impetuous; nor with _Ernulphus's_ policy----for tho' my father, with the most intolerant spirit, would curse both this and that, and every thing under heaven, which was either aiding or abetting to his love----yet never concluded his chapter of curses upon it, without cursing himself in at the bargain, as one of the most egregious fools and coxcombs, he would say, that ever was let loose in the world. My uncle _Toby_, on the contrary, took it like a lamb----sat still and let the poison work in his veins without resistance----in the sharpest exacerbations of his wound (like that on his groin) he never dropt one fretful or discontented word----he blamed neither heaven nor earth----or thought or spoke an injurious thing of any body, or any part of it; he sat solitary and pensive with his pipe----looking at his lame leg----then whiffing out a sentimental heigh ho! which mixing with the smoke, incommoded no one mortal. He took it like a lamb ----I say. In truth he had mistook it at first; for having taken a ride with my father, that very morning, to save if possible a beautiful wood, which the dean and chapter were hewing down to give to the poor;[8.6] which said wood being in full view of my uncle _Toby's_ house, and of singular service to him in his description of the battle of _Wynnendale_--by trotting on too hastily to save it----upon an uneasy saddle----worse horse, &c. &c. . . it had so happened, that the serous part of the blood had got betwixt the two skins, in the nethermost part of my uncle _Toby_----the first shootings of which (as my uncle _Toby_ had no experience of love) he had taken for a part of the passion--till the blister breaking in the one case--and the other remaining--my uncle _Toby_ was presently convinced, that his wound was not a skin-deep wound----but that it had gone to his heart. [Footnote 8.5: This will be printed with my father's Life of _Socrates_, &c. &c.] [Footnote 8.6: Mr. _Shandy_ must mean the poor _in spirit_; inasmuch as they divided the money amongst themselves.]

There is nothing that shows the character of my father and my uncle Toby in a more entertaining light, than their different manner under the same accident of love. I do not call love a misfortune, but am persuaded that a man's heart is the better for it. Great God! what must my uncle Toby's heart have been with love, when 'twas all benignity without it. My father, as appears from many of his papers, was very subject to this passion before he married - but from a little subacid kind of drollish impatience in his nature, whenever love befell him, he would never submit to it, but would pish, and huff, and bounce, and kick, and play the Devil, and write the bitterest verses that ever man wrote. There is one verse upon somebody's eye that for two or three nights kept him from his rest; which begins thus: 'A Devil 'tis - and mischief such doth work As never yet did Pagan, Jew, or Turk.' In short, when in love, my father was all abuse and foul language, cursing this and that and everything under heaven which aided or abetted his love - yet he cursed himself into the bargain, as one of the most egregious fools that ever was let loose in the world. My uncle Toby, on the contrary, took it like a lamb - sat still and let the poison work in his veins without resistance. In the sharpest pains of the wound (like that on his groin) he never dropped one fretful word - he blamed neither heaven nor earth, or spoke ill of any body. He sat solitary and pensive with his pipe - looking at his lame leg - then whiffing out a sentimental heigh ho! mixed with the smoke. He took it like a lamb, I say. In truth he had mistook it at first; for having taken a ride with my father that morning, to save if possible a beautiful wood which the dean and chapter were hewing down to give to the poor; and which was in full view of my uncle Toby's house, and of singular service to him in his description of the battle of Wynnendale - by trotting on too hastily to save it, upon an uneasy saddle - it so happened, that a blister formed in the nethermost part of my uncle Toby - the first shootings of which (as he had no experience of love) he had taken for a part of the passion - till the blister breaking in the one case - and the other remaining - my uncle Toby was convinced that his wound was not skin-deep, but that it had gone to his heart.

Tristram Shandy

Book 8 - Chapter 26

Though I was sensible I had said as many clever things to the commissary as came to six livres four sous, yet I was determined to note down the imposition amongst my remarks before I retired from the place; so putting my hand into my coat-pocket for my remarks--(which, by the bye, may be a caution to travellers to take a little more care of _their_ remarks for the future) "my remarks were _stolen_" ----Never did sorry traveller make such a pother and racket about his remarks as I did about mine, upon the occasion. Heaven! earth! sea! fire! cried I, calling in everything to my aid but what I should ------My remarks are stolen! --what shall I do? ----Mr. Commissary! pray did I drop any remarks, as I stood besides you?------ You dropp'd a good many very singular ones; replied he ----Pugh! said I, those were but a few, not worth above six livres two sous--but these are a large parcel ----He shook his head ----Monsieur _Le Blanc!_ Madam _Le Blanc!_ did you see any papers of mine? --you maid of the house! run up stairs--_Franois!_ run up after her---- --I must have my remarks----they were the best remarks, cried I, that ever were made--the wisest--the wittiest --What shall I do? --which way shall I turn myself? _Sancho Pana_, when he lost his ass's FURNITURE, did not exclaim more bitterly.

Though I was aware I had said only six livres' worth of clever things, yet I was determined to note them down before I left; so putting my hand into my coat-pocket for my journal of remarks - my remarks were stolen! 'Heaven! earth! sea! fire!' cried I. 'My remarks are stolen! what shall I do? Pray, did I drop any remarks, as I stood beside you?' 'You dropped a good many,' said he. 'Pugh!' said I, 'those were worth six livres - but these are a large parcel.' He shook his head. 'Monsieur Le Blanc! did you see any papers of mine? Did your housemaid? Run upstairs, Franois! I must have my remarks - they were the best that ever were made,' cried I, 'the wisest - the wittiest. - What shall I do?' Sancho Panza, when he lost his ass's furniture, did not exclaim more bitterly.

Tristram Shandy

Book 7 - Chapter 36

When a man gives himself up to the government of a ruling passion, --or, in other words, when his HOBBY-HORSE grows headstrong, ----farewel cool reason and fair discretion! My uncle _Toby's_ wound was near well, and as soon as the surgeon recovered his surprize, and could get leave to say as much----he told him, 'twas just beginning to incarnate; and that if no fresh exfoliation happened, which there was no sign of, --it would be dried up in five or six weeks. The sound of as many Olympiads, twelve hours before, would have conveyed an idea of shorter duration to my uncle _Toby's_ mind. ----The succession of his ideas was now rapid, --he broiled with impatience to put his design in execution; ----and so, without consulting farther with any soul living, --which, by the bye, I think is right, when you are predetermined to take no one soul's advice, ----he privately ordered _Trim_, his man, to pack up a bundle of lint and dressings, and hire a chariot-and-four to be at the door exactly by twelve o'clock that day, when he knew my father would be upon 'Change. ----So leaving a banknote upon the table for the surgeon's care of him, and a letter of tender thanks for his brother's--he packed up his maps, his books of fortification, his instruments, &c., and by the help of a crutch on one side, and _Trim_ on the other, ----my uncle _Toby_ embarked for _Shandy-Hall_. The reason, or rather the rise of this sudden demigration was as follows: The table in my uncle _Toby's_ room, and at which, the night before this change happened, he was sitting with his maps, &c., about him--being somewhat of the smallest, for that infinity of great and small instruments of knowledge which usually lay crowded upon it--he had the accident, in reaching over for his tobacco-box, to throw down his compasses, and in stooping to take the compasses up, with his sleeve he threw down his case of instruments and snuffers; --and as the dice took a run against him, in his endeavouring to catch the snuffers in falling, ----he thrust Monsieur _Blondel_ off the table, and Count _de Pagan_ o'top of him. 'Twas to no purpose for a man, lame as my uncle _Toby_ was, to think of redressing these evils by himself, --he rung his bell for his man _Trim_; ------_Trim_, quoth my uncle _Toby_, prithee see what confusion I have here been making --I must have some better contrivance, _Trim_. ----Can'st not thou take my rule, and measure the length and breadth of this table, and then go and bespeak me one as big again? ----Yes, an' please your Honour, replied _Trim_, making a bow; but I hope your Honour will be soon well enough to get down to your country-seat, where, --as your Honour takes so much pleasure in fortification, we could manage this matter to a T. I must here inform you, that this servant of my uncle _Toby's_, who went by the name of _Trim_, had been a corporal in my uncle's own company, --his real name was _James Butler_, --but having got the nick-name of _Trim_ in the regiment, my uncle _Toby_, unless when he happened to be very angry with him, would never call him by any other name. The poor fellow had been disabled for the service, by a wound on his left knee by a musket-bullet, at the battle of _Landen_, which was two years before the affair of _Namur_; --and as the fellow was well-beloved in the regiment, and a handy fellow into the bargain, my uncle _Toby_ took him for his servant; and of an excellent use was he, attending my uncle _Toby_ in the camp and in his quarters as a valet, groom, barber, cook, sempster, and nurse; and indeed, from first to last, waited upon him and served him with great fidelity and affection. My uncle _Toby_ loved the man in return, and what attached him more to him still, was the similitude of their knowledge. ----For Corporal _Trim_ (for so, for the future, I shall call him), by four years occasional attention to his Master's discourse upon fortified towns, and the advantage of prying and peeping continually into his Master's plans, &c., exclusive and besides what he gained HOBBY-HORSICALLY, as a body-servant, _Non Hobby Horsical per se_; ----had become no mean proficient in the science; and was thought, by the cook and chamber-maid, to know as much of the nature of strongholds as my uncle _Toby_ himself. I have but one more stroke to give to finish Corporal _Trim's_ character, ----and it is the only dark line in it. --The fellow loved to advise, --or rather to hear himself talk; his carriage, however, was so perfectly respectful, 'twas easy to keep him silent when you had him so; but set his tongue a-going, --you had no hold of him--he was voluble; --the eternal interlardings of _your Honour_, with the respectfulness of Corporal _Trim's_ manner, interceding so strong in behalf of his elocution, --that though you might have been incommoded, ----you could not well be angry. My uncle _Toby_ was seldom either the one or the other with him, --or, at least, this fault, in _Trim_, broke no squares with them. My uncle _Toby_, as I said, loved the man; ----and besides, as he ever looked upon a faithful servant, --but as an humble friend, --he could not bear to stop his mouth. ----Such was Corporal _Trim_. If I durst presume, continued _Trim_, to give your Honour my advice, and speak my opinion in this matter. --Thou art welcome, _Trim_, quoth my uncle _Toby_--speak, ----speak what thou thinkest upon the subject, man, without fear. Why then, replied _Trim_ (not hanging his ears and scratching his head like a country-lout, but) stroking his hair back from his forehead, and standing erect as before his division, --I think, quoth _Trim_, advancing his left, which was his lame leg, a little forwards, --and pointing with his right hand open towards a map of _Dunkirk_, which was pinned against the hangings, ----I think, quoth Corporal _Trim_, with humble submission to your Honour's better judgment, ----that these ravelins, bastions, curtins, and horn-works, make but a poor, contemptible, fiddle-faddle piece of work of it here upon paper, compared to what your Honour and I could make of it were we in the country by ourselves, and had but a rood, or a rood and a half of ground to do what we pleased with: As summer is coming on, continued _Trim_, your Honour might sit out of doors, and give me the nography--(Call it ichnography, quoth my uncle)----of the town or citadel, your Honour was pleased to sit down before, --and I will be shot by your Honour upon the glacis of it, if I did not fortify it to your Honour's mind ----I dare say thou would'st, _Trim_, quoth my uncle. --For if your Honour, continued the Corporal, could but mark me the polygon, with its exact lines and angles --That I could do very well, quoth my uncle. --I would begin with the foss, and if your Honour could tell me the proper depth and breadth --I can to a hair's breadth, _Trim_, replied my uncle. --I would throw out the earth upon this hand towards the town for the scarp, --and on that hand towards the campaign for the counterscarp. --Very right, _Trim_, quoth my uncle _Toby_: ----And when I had sloped them to your mind, ----an' please your Honour, I would face the glacis, as the finest fortifications are done in _Flanders_, with sods, ----and as your Honour knows they should be, --and I would make the walls and parapets with sods too. --The best engineers call them gazons, _Trim_, said my uncle _Toby_. ----Whether they are gazons or sods, is not much matter, replied _Trim_; your Honour knows they are ten times beyond a facing either of brick or stone. ----I know they are, _Trim_, in some respects, ----quoth my uncle _Toby_, nodding his head; --for a cannon-ball enters into the gazon right onwards, without bringing any rubbish down with it, which might fill the foss (as was the case at _St. Nicolas's_ gate), and facilitate the passage over it. Your Honour understands these matters, replied Corporal _Trim_, better than any officer in his Majesty's service; ----but would your Honour please to let the bespeaking of the table alone, and let us but go into the country, I would work under your Honour's directions like a horse, and make fortifications for you something like a tansy, with all their batteries, saps, ditches, and palisadoes, that it should be worth all the world's riding twenty miles to go and see it. My uncle _Toby_ blushed as red as scarlet as _Trim_ went on; --but it was not a blush of guilt, --of modesty, --or of anger, --it was a blush of joy; --he was fired with Corporal _Trim's_ project and description. ----_Trim!_ said my uncle _Toby_, thou hast said enough. --We might begin the campaign, continued _Trim_, on the very day that his Majesty and the Allies take the field, and demolish them town by town as fast as--_Trim_, quoth my uncle _Toby_, say no more. Your Honour, continued _Trim_, might sit in your arm-chair (pointing to it) this fine weather, giving me your orders, and I would ----Say no more, _Trim_, quoth my uncle _Toby_ ----Besides, your Honour would get not only pleasure and good pastime, --but good air, and good exercise, and good health, --and your Honour's wound would be well in a month. Thou hast said enough, _Trim_, --quoth my uncle _Toby_ (putting his hand into his breeches-pocket) ----I like thy project mightily. --And if your Honour pleases, I'll this moment go and buy a pioneer's spade to take down with us, and I'll bespeak a shovel and a pick-axe, and a couple of ----Say no more, _Trim_, quoth my uncle _Toby_, leaping up upon one leg, quite overcome with rapture, --and thrusting a guinea into _Trim's_ hand, --_Trim_, said my uncle _Toby_, say no more; --but go down, _Trim_, this moment, my lad, and bring up my supper this instant. _Trim_ ran down and brought up his master's supper, ----to no purpose: --_Trim's_ plan of operation ran so in my uncle _Toby's_ head, he could not taste it. --_Trim_, quoth my uncle _Toby_, get me to bed. --'Twas all one. --Corporal _Trim's_ description had fired his imagination, --my uncle _Toby_ could not shut his eyes. --The more he considered it, the more bewitching the scene appeared to him; --so that, two full hours before day-light, he had come to a final determination, and had concerted the whole plan of his and Corporal _Trim's_ decampment. My uncle _Toby_ had a little neat country-house of his own, in the village where my father's estate lay at _Shandy_, which had been left him by an old uncle, with a small estate of about one hundred pounds a-year. Behind this house, and contiguous to it, was a kitchen-garden of about half an acre; and at the bottom of the garden, and cut off from it by a tall yew hedge, was a bowling-green, containing just about as much ground as Corporal _Trim_ wished for; --so that as _Trim_ uttered the words, "A rood and a half of ground to do what they would with," --this identical bowling-green instantly presented itself, and became curiously painted all at once, upon the retina of my uncle _Toby's_ fancy; --which was the physical cause of making him change colour, or at least of heightening his blush, to that immoderate degree I spoke of. Never did lover post down to a beloved mistress with more heat and expectation, than my uncle _Toby_ did, to enjoy this self-same thing in private; --I say in private; --for it was sheltered from the house, as I told you, by a tall yew hedge, and was covered on the other three sides, from mortal sight, by rough holly and thick-set flowering shrubs: --so that the idea of not being seen, did not a little contribute to the idea of pleasure pre-conceived in my uncle _Toby's_ mind. --Vain thought! however thick it was planted about, ----or private soever it might seem, --to think, dear uncle _Toby_, of enjoying a thing which took up a whole rood and a half of ground, ----and not have it known! How my uncle _Toby_ and Corporal _Trim_ managed this matter, ----with the history of their campaigns, which were no way barren of events, ----may make no uninteresting under-plot in the epitasis and working-up of this drama. --At present the scene must drop, --and change for the parlour fire-side.

When a man gives himself up to a ruling passion, - or, in other words, when his Hobby-Horse grows headstrong - farewell cool reason! My uncle Toby's wound was nearly well, and the surgeon told him that if no fresh exfoliation happened, it would be dried up in five or six weeks. But my uncle Toby now broiled with impatience to carry out his plan; this seemed too long - and so, without consulting with anyone, which, by the bye, I think is right, if you are determined to take no one's advice, - he privately ordered Trim, his servant, to pack lint and dressings, and hire a carriage to be at the door by twelve o'clock that day. Leaving a banknote upon the table for the surgeon's care, and a letter of tender thanks for his brother's, he packed up his maps, his books of fortification, &c., and by the help of a crutch on one side, and Trim on the other, my uncle Toby embarked for Shandy-Hall. The reason was as follows: The night before this change happened, my uncle Toby was sitting at his table with his maps, &c., crowded about him; - in reaching for his tobacco-box, he accidentally threw down his compasses, and in stooping to take the compasses up, he knocked over his case of instruments; and in trying to catch the case, he thrust Monsieur Blondel's volume off the table, and Count de Pagan o'top of him. My uncle Toby rung his bell for his man Trim. 'Trim,' quoth he, 'see what confusion I have been making - I must have a better table, Trim. Can'st thou order me one twice as big?' 'Yes, your Honour,' replied Trim; 'but I hope your Honour will be soon be well enough to get down to your country-seat, where we could manage this matter to a T.' I must here inform you that this servant, who went by the name of Trim, had been a corporal in my uncle's company. His real name was James Butler, but having got the nick-name of Trim in the regiment, my uncle Toby, unless he happened to be very angry with him, would never call him by any other name. The poor fellow had been disabled by a wound on his left knee with a musket-bullet, at the battle of Landen, two years before the siege of Namur; and as he was well-beloved in the regiment, and handy into the bargain, my uncle Toby took him for his servant; and of excellent use he was, as a valet, groom, barber, cook, tailor, and nurse; and served him with great fidelity and affection. My uncle Toby loved him in return, all the more because of the similitude of their knowledge. - For Corporal Trim, after four years' attention to his master's talk upon fortified towns, had become proficient in the science; and was thought by the cook and chamber-maid to know as much about strongholds as my uncle himself. I have but one more stroke to give to finish Corporal Trim's character, and it is the only dark line in it. The fellow loved to hear himself talk. Set his tongue a-going, and you had no hold of him - he was voluble; though so respectful that you could not be angry. My uncle Toby loved him not just as a faithful servant, but as a humble friend; he could not bear to stop his mouth. 'If I durst presume,' continued Trim, 'to advise your Honour?' 'Thou art welcome, Trim,' quoth my uncle: 'speak without fear.' 'Why then,' replied Trim, standing as erect as if on parade, 'I think,' quoth he, advancing his left leg, and pointing with his right hand towards a map of Dunkirk, which was pinned on the wall, - 'I think, with humble submission to your judgment, that these ravelins, bastions, curtins, and horn-works, make but a poor, contemptible, fiddle-faddle piece of work upon paper, compared to what your Honour and I could make of it were we in the country, and had a quarter-acre or so to do what we pleased with. Your Honour might sit out of doors, and give me the nography-'('Call it ichnography,' quoth my uncle) 'of the town or citadel, and I will be shot by your Honour upon the glacis, if I did not fortify it to your Honour's liking.' 'I dare say thou would'st, Trim,' quoth my uncle. 'For if your Honour,' continued the Corporal, 'could but mark me the polygon, with its exact lines and angles, I would begin digging the foss, and if your Honour could tell me the proper depth and breadth, I would throw out the earth for the scarp and counterscarp accordingly.' 'Very right, Trim,' quoth my uncle Toby. 'And when I had sloped them to your mind, and faced the glacis with sods, as the finest fortifications are done in Flanders, I would make the walls and parapets with sods too.' 'The best engineers call them gazons, Trim,' said my uncle. 'Gazons or sods,' replied Trim, 'your Honour knows they are ten times better than a facing of brick or stone.' 'They are,' quoth my uncle Toby, nodding; 'for a cannon-ball enters the gazon without bringing any rubbish down, which might fill the foss and allow the passage over it.' 'Your Honour understands these matters;' replied Corporal Trim, 'but if we went into the country, I would work under your Honour's directions like a horse, and make fortifications, batteries, saps, ditches, and palisadoes, that it should be worth riding twenty miles to see.' My uncle Toby blushed with joy; he was fired with Corporal Trim's description. 'Trim!' he said, 'Enough.' 'We might begin the campaign,' continued Trim, 'on the very day that the Allies take the field, and demolish them town by town as fast as-' 'Trim,' quoth my uncle, 'say no more.' 'Your Honour might sit in your arm-chair, giving me orders, and I would-' 'Say no more, Trim,' quoth my uncle Toby. 'Your Honour would get pleasure, good air, and good health, and your Honour's wound would be well in a month.' 'Thou hast said enough, Trim,' quoth my uncle Toby; 'I like thy project mightily.' 'And if your Honour pleases, I'll this moment go and buy a spade, and a shovel and a pick-axe, and a couple of-' 'Say no more, Trim,' quoth my uncle Toby, quite overcome with rapture, and thrusting a guinea into Trim's hand: 'say no more; but go down, and bring up my supper.' Trim ran down and brought up his master's supper; - yet the plan ran so in my uncle Toby's head, that he could not taste it. 'Trim,' quoth my uncle, 'get me to bed.' But Trim's description had so fired his imagination, that he could not shut his eyes. The more he considered it, the more bewitching the idea appeared; so that, two hours before day-light, he had decided on the whole plan of his and Corporal Trim's decampment. My uncle Toby had a little neat country-house, in the village near my father's estate at Shandy Hall. Behind his house was a kitchen-garden of about half an acre; and at the bottom of the garden, and cut off from it by a tall yew hedge, was a bowling-green of about a quarter-acre: so as soon as Corporal Trim uttered the words, 'a quarter-acre,' this bowling-green instantly became painted upon my uncle Toby's fancy. Never did lover hasten to a beloved mistress with more heat and expectation than my uncle Toby did, to enjoy this thing in private. As well as being sheltered from the house by a tall yew hedge, it was screened on the other three sides by holly and flowering shrubs: so that the idea of privacy added to my uncle's Toby's pleasure. Vain thought! however private it might seem - to think, dear uncle Toby, of enjoying a thing which took up a quarter-acre of ground, - and not have it known! How my uncle and Corporal Trim managed this matter, may make an interesting under-plot in the epitasis and working-up of this drama. - But for now the scene must drop, and change for the parlour fire-side.

Tristram Shandy

Book 2 - Chapter 5

My uncle _Toby_ and the corporal had posted down with so much heat and precipitation, to take possession of the spot of ground we have so often spoke of, in order to open their campaign as early as the rest of the allies; that they had forgot one of the most necessary articles of the whole affair; it was neither a pioneer's spade, a pickax, or a shovel-- --It was a bed to lie on: so that as _Shandy-Hall_ was at that time unfurnished; and the little inn where poor _Le Fever_ died, not yet built; my uncle _Toby_ was constrained to accept of a bed at Mrs. _Wadman's_, for a night or two, till corporal _Trim_ (who to the character of an excellent valet, groom, cook, sempster, surgeon, and engineer, superadded that of an excellent upholsterer too), with the help of a carpenter and a couple of taylors, constructed one in my uncle _Toby's_ house. A daughter of _Eve_, for such was widow _Wadman_, and 'tis all the character I intend to give of her-- --"_That she was a perfect woman_--" had better be fifty leagues off--or in her warm bed--or playing with a case-knife--or anything you please--than make a man the object of her attention, when the house and all the furniture is her own. There is nothing in it out of doors and in broad day-light, where a woman has a power, physically speaking, of viewing a man in more lights than one--but here, for her soul, she can see him in no light without mixing something of her own goods and chattels along with him----till by reiterated acts of such combination, he gets foisted into her inventory---- --And then good night. But this is not matter of SYSTEM; for I have delivered that above----nor is it matter of BREVIARY----for I make no man's creed but my own----nor matter of FACT----at least that I know of; but 'tis matter copulative and introductory to what follows.

My uncle Toby and the corporal had travelled down speedily to take possession of the spot of ground we have spoke of, in order to open their campaign as early as the rest of the allies; but they forgot a most necessary article; not a spade, a pickaxe, or a shovel- - It was a bed to lie on. So, as Shandy-Hall was at that time unfurnished, and the little inn where poor Le Fever died was not yet built, my uncle Toby had to accept a bed at Mrs. Wadman's, for a night or two, till corporal Trim, with the help of a carpenter, constructed one in my uncle Toby's house. A daughter of Eve: such was widow Wadman, and 'tis all the character I intend to give her- - 'That she was a perfect woman' - had better be fifty leagues off - or in her warm bed - or playing with a case-knife - or anything, rather than make a man the object of her attention, when the house and all the furniture is her own. There is no problem out of doors in day-light, where a woman can view a man in more lights than one - but in her house, she cannot see him without mixing something of her own goods and chattels along with him, till he gets foisted into her inventory- And then good night.

Tristram Shandy

Book 8 - Chapter 8

----But it is an indubitable verity, continued I, addressing myself to the commissary, changing only the form of my asseveration----that I owe the king of _France_ nothing but my good-will; for he is a very honest man, and I wish him all health and pastime in the world---- _Pardonnez moi_--replied the commissary, you are indebted to him six livres four sous, for the next post from hence to St. _Fons_, in your route to _Avignon_--which being a post royal, you pay double for the horses and postillion--otherwise 'twould have amounted to no more than three livres two sous---- ----But I don't go by land; said I. ----You may if you please; replied the commissary---- Your most obedient servant----said I, making him a low bow---- The commissary, with all the sincerity of grave good breeding--made me one, as low again. ----I never was more disconcerted with a bow in my life. ----The devil take the serious character of these people! quoth I--(aside) they understand no more of IRONY than this---- The comparison was standing close by with his panniers--but something seal'd up my lips --I could not pronounce the name-- Sir, said I, collecting myself--it is not my intention to take post---- --But you may--said he, persisting in his first reply--you may take post if you chuse---- --And I may take salt to my pickled herring, said I, if I chuse---- --But I do not chuse-- --But you must pay for it, whether you do or no. Aye! for the salt; said I (I know)---- --And for the post too; added he. Defend me! cried I---- I travel by water --I am going down the _Rhne_ this very afternoon--my baggage is in the boat--and I have actually paid nine livres for my passage---- _C'est tout egal_--'tis all one; said he. _Bon Dieu!_ what, pay for the way I go! and for the way I do _not_ go! ----_C'est tout egal_; replied the commissary---- ----The devil it is! said I--but I will go to ten thousand Bastiles first---- _O England! England!_ thou land of liberty, and climate of good sense, thou tenderest of mothers--and gentlest of nurses, cried I, kneeling upon one knee, as I was beginning my apostrophe. When the director of Madam _Le Blanc's_ conscience coming in at that instant, and seeing a person in black, with a face as pale as ashes, at his devotions--looking still paler by the contrast and distress of his drapery--ask'd, if I stood in want of the aids of the church---- I go by WATER--said I--and here's another will be for making me pay for going by OIL.

'But it is true,' continued I, 'that I owe the king of France nothing but my good-will.' 'Pardonnez moi,' replied the messenger, 'you owe him six livres four sous, for the next post-stage from here to St. Fons, in your route to Avignon. Since it is a post royal, you pay double for the horses and postillion - otherwise 'twould have been three livres two sous.' 'But I don't go by land,' said I. 'You may if you please,' replied he. 'Your most obedient servant,' said I, making him a bow - he bowed as low in return. - I was never more disconcerted with a bow in my life. 'The devil take the serious character of these people!' quoth I (aside). 'They understand no more of Irony than this-' The comparison was standing close by with his panniers - but I could not say his name. 'Sir,' said I, collecting myself, 'it is not my intention to take the post-stage.' 'But you may,' said he, 'if you choose.' 'And I may take salt on my pickled herring,' said I, 'if I choose - but I do not choose.' 'But you must pay for the post-stage, whether you do or no.' 'Defend me!' I cried. 'I travel by water - I am going down the Rhne this very afternoon - my baggage is in the boat - and I have actually paid nine livres for my passage.' ''Tis all one,' said he. 'Mon Dieu! what, pay for the way I go! and for the way I do not go!' ''Tis all one.' 'The devil it is!' said I - 'but I will go to ten thousand Bastilles first - O England! England! thou land of liberty and good sense, thou tenderest of mothers and gentlest of nurses,' cried I, falling upon one knee. The priest coming in at that instant, and seeing a person in black, kneeling, with a face as pale as ashes, asked if I needed the aid of the church- 'I go by Water,' said I; '-and here's another wants to make me pay for going by Oil.'

Tristram Shandy

Book 7 - Chapter 34

----But courage! gentle reader! ----I scorn it----'tis enough to have thee in my power----but to make use of the advantage which the fortune of the pen has now gained over thee, would be too much ----No----! by that all-powerful fire which warms the visionary brain, and lights the spirits through unwordly tracts! ere I would force a helpless creature upon this hard service, and make thee pay, poor soul! for fifty pages, which I have no right to sell thee, ----naked as I am, I would browse upon the mountains, and smile that the north wind brought me neither my tent or my supper. --So put on, my brave boy! and make the best of thy way to _Boulogne_.

- But courage, gentle reader! - I scorn it - 'tis enough to have thee in my power - but to make use of that advantage would be too much - No! by that all-powerful fire which warms the visionary brain! before I would force a helpless creature upon this hard service, and make thee pay, poor soul! for fifty pages, which I have no right to sell thee, - naked as I am, I would browse upon the mountains, and smile when the north wind brought me neither my tent nor my supper. So keep on, my brave boy! and make thy way to Boulogne.

Tristram Shandy

Book 7 - Chapter 6

----Get on with you, said the abbess. ----Wh - - - - ysh----ysh----cried _Margarita_. Sh - - - a----suh - u----shu - - u--sh - - aw----shaw'd the abbess. ----Whu--v--w----whew--w--w--whuv'd _Margarita_ pursing up her sweet lips betwixt a hoot and a whistle. Thump--thump--thump--obstreperated the abbess of _Andoillets_ with the end of her gold-headed cane against the bottom of the calesh---- The old mule let a f--

'Get on with you,' said the abbess. 'Wh - ysh - ysh,' cried Margarita. 'Shu - shu - shu,' shooed the abbess. 'Whu - w - whew,' whewed Margarita, pursing up her sweet lips. Thump - thump - thump went the abbess with the end of her cane against the bottom of the carriage- The old mule let out a f__.

Tristram Shandy

Book 7 - Chapter 22

----Five years with a bib under his chin; Four years in travelling from Christ-cross-row to _Malachi_; A year and a half in learning to write his own name; Seven long years and more -ing it, at Greek and Latin; Four years at his _probations_ and his _negations_--the fine statue still lying in the middle of the marble block, --and nothing done, but his tools sharpened to hew it out! --'Tis a piteous delay! --Was not the great _Julius Scaliger_ within an ace of never getting his tools sharpened at all? ------Forty-four years old was he before he could manage his Greek; --and _Peter Damianus_, lord bishop of _Ostia_, as all the world knows, could not so much as read, when he was of man's estate. --And _Baldus_ himself, as eminent as he turned out after, entered upon the law so late in life, that everybody imagined he intended to be an advocate in the other world: no wonder, when _Eudamidas_, the son of _Archidamas_, heard _Xenocrates_ at seventy-five disputing about _wisdom_, that he asked gravely, --_If the old man be yet disputing and enquiring concerning wisdom, --what time will he have to make use of it?_ _Yorick_ listened to my father with great attention; there was a seasoning of wisdom unaccountably mixed up with his strangest whims, and he had sometimes such illuminations in the darkest of his eclipses, as almost atoned for them: --be wary, Sir, when you imitate him. I am convinced, _Yorick_, continued my father, half reading and half discoursing, that there is a North-west passage to the intellectual world; and that the soul of man has shorter ways of going to work, in furnishing itself with knowledge and instruction, than we generally take with it. ----But, alack! all fields have not a river or a spring running besides them; --every child, _Yorick_, has not a parent to point it out. ----The whole entirely depends, added my father, in a low voice, upon the _auxiliary verbs_, Mr. _Yorick_. Had _Yorick_ trod upon _Virgil's_ snake, he could not have looked more surprised. --I am surprised too, cried my father, observing it, --and I reckon it as one of the greatest calamities which ever befel the republic of letters, That those who have been entrusted with the education of our children, and whose business it was to open their minds, and stock them early with ideas, in order to set the imagination loose upon them, have made so little use of the auxiliary verbs in doing it, as they have done ----So that, except _Raymond Lullius_, and the elder _Pelegrini_, the last of which arrived to such perfection in the use of 'em, with his topics, that, in a few lessons, he could teach a young gentleman to discourse with plausibility upon any subject, _pro_ and _con_, and to say and write all that could be spoken or written concerning it, without blotting a word, to the admiration of all who beheld him. --I should be glad, said _Yorick_, interrupting my father, to be made to comprehend this matter. You shall, said my father. The highest stretch of improvement a single word is capable of, is a high metaphor, ----for which, in my opinion, the idea is generally the worse, and not the better; ----but be that as it may, --when the mind has done that with it--there is an end, --the mind and the idea are at rest, --until a second idea enters; ----and so on. Now the use of the _Auxiliaries_ is, at once to set the soul a-going by herself upon the materials as they are brought her; and by the versability of this great engine, round which they are twisted, to open new tracts of enquiry, and make every idea engender millions. You excite my curiosity greatly, said _Yorick_. For my own part, quoth my uncle _Toby_, I have given it up. ----The _Danes_, an' please your honour, quoth the corporal, who were on the left at the siege of _Limerick_, were all auxiliaries. ----And very good ones, said my uncle _Toby_. --But the auxiliaries, _Trim_, my brother is talking about, --I conceive to be different things.---- ----You do? said my father, rising up.

'- Five years with a bib under his chin; 'Four years in learning the alphabet; 'A year and a half in learning to write his own name; 'Seven long years working at Greek and Latin; 'Four years at his probations and negations - with the fine statue still lying in the middle of the marble block, and nothing done, except his tools sharpened to hew it out! 'Tis a piteous delay! Was not the great Julius Scaliger within an ace of never getting his tools sharpened at all? Forty-four years old was he before he could manage Greek; and Peter Damianus, bishop of Ostia, as all the world knows, could not read even when he was full-grown. Baldus entered the law so late in life, that everybody imagined he intended to be an advocate in the other world. 'No wonder that, when Eudamidas heard Xenocrates at seventy-five discussing wisdom, he asked gravely, "If the old man is still disputing wisdom, what time will he have to make use of it?"' Yorick listened to my father with great attention; there was a seasoning of wisdom mixed up with his strangest whims, and he had sometimes such illuminations in the darkest of his eclipses, as almost atoned for them. 'I am convinced, Yorick,' continued my father, 'that there is a North-west passage to the intellectual world; and that the soul of man has shorter ways of acquiring knowledge, than we generally take. But, alack! Not every child, Yorick, has a parent to point it out. 'It entirely depends,' added my father in a low voice, 'upon the auxiliary verbs.' Yorick could not have looked more surprised. 'I am surprised too,' cried my father, observing it. 'I think it one of the greatest calamities, that those who have been entrusted with our children's education, and whose business it was to open their minds, and stock them early with ideas, have made so little use of the auxiliary verbs. - So that, except Raymond Lullius, and the elder Pelegrini, who used them so perfectly that, in a few lessons, he could teach a young gentleman to discuss any subject, pro and con, to the admiration of all-' 'I should be glad,' said Yorick, interrupting, 'to understand this matter.' 'You shall,' said my father. 'The greatest improvement a single word is capable of, is a high metaphor, - for which, in my opinion, the idea is generally the worse - but be that as it may - when the mind has done that, there is an end; the mind is at rest, until a second idea enters; and so on. 'Now the use of the Auxiliaries is to set the soul a-going by herself upon the word; and by twisting them round this great engine, to open new areas of enquiry, and make every idea engender millions.' 'You excite my curiosity greatly,' said Yorick. 'For my own part,' quoth my uncle Toby, 'I have given up.' 'The Danes who were on the left at the siege of Limerick,' quoth corporal Trim, 'were all auxiliaries.' 'And very good ones,' said my uncle Toby. 'But the auxiliaries my brother is talking about, I imagine to be different things.' 'You do?' said my father, rising up.

Tristram Shandy

Book 5 - Chapter 42

----All you need say of _Fontainbleau_ (in case you are ask'd) is, that it stands about forty miles (south _something_) from _Paris_, in the middle of a large forest ----That there is something great in it ----That the king goes there once every two or three years, with his whole court, for the pleasure of the chase--and that, during that carnival of sporting, any _English_ gentleman of fashion (you need not forget yourself) may be accommodated with a nag or two, to partake of the sport, taking care only not to out-gallop the king---- Though there are two reasons why you need not talk loud of this to every one. First, Because 'twill make the said nags the harder to be got; and Secondly, 'Tis not a word of it true. ----_Allons!_ As for SENS----you may dispatch--in a word------ "_'Tis an archiepiscopal see_." ----For JOIGNY--the less, I think, one says of it the better. But for AUXERRE --I could go on for ever: for in my _grand tour_ through _Europe_, in which, after all, my father (not caring to trust me with any one) attended me himself, with my uncle _Toby_, and _Trim_, and _Obadiah_, and indeed most of the family, except my mother, who being taken up with a project of knitting my father a pair of large worsted breeches--(the thing is common sense)--and she not caring to be put out of her way, she staid at home, at SHANDY HALL, to keep things right during the expedition; in which, I say, my father stopping us two days at _Auxerre_, and his researches being ever of such a nature, that they would have found fruit even in a desert----he has left me enough to say upon AUXERRE: in short, wherever my father went----but 'twas more remarkably so, in this journey through _France_ and _Italy_, than in any other stages of his life----his road seemed to lie so much on one side of that, wherein all other travellers have gone before him--he saw kings and courts and silks of all colours, in such strange lights----and his remarks and reasonings upon the characters, the manners, and customs, of the countries we pass'd over, were so opposite to those of all other mortal men, particularly those of my uncle _Toby_ and _Trim_--(to say nothing of myself)--and to crown all--the occurrences and scrapes which we were perpetually meeting and getting into, in consequence of his systems and opiniatry--they were of so odd, so mix'd and tragi-comical a contexture --That the whole put together, it appears of so different a shade and tint from any tour of _Europe_, which was ever executed--that I will venture to pronounce--the fault must be mine and mine only--if it be not read by all travellers and travel-readers, till travelling is no more, --or which comes to the same point--till the world, finally, takes it into its head to stand still.---- ----But this rich bale is not to be open'd now; except a small thread or two of it, merely to unravel the mystery of my father's stay at AUXERRE. ----As I have mentioned it--'tis too slight to be kept suspended; and when 'tis wove in, there is an end of it. We'll go, brother _Toby_, said my father, whilst dinner is coddling--to the abby of Saint _Germain_, if it be only to see these bodies, of which Monsieur _Sequier_ has given such a recommendation. ----I'll go see any body, quoth my uncle _Toby_; for he was all compliance through every step of the journey ----Defend me! said my father--they are all mummies ----Then one need not shave; quoth my uncle _Toby_ ----Shave! no--cried my father--'twill be more like relations to go with our beards on --So out we sallied, the corporal lending his master his arm, and bringing up the rear, to the abby of Saint _Germain_. Everything is very fine, and very rich, and very superb, and very magnificent, said my father, addressing himself to the sacristan, who was a younger brother of the order of _Benedictines_--but our curiosity has led us to see the bodies, of which Monsieur _Sequier_ has given the world so exact a description. --The sacristan made a bow, and lighting a torch first, which he had always in the vestry ready for the purpose; he led us into the tomb of St. _Heribald_ ----This, said the sacristan, laying his hand upon the tomb, was a renowned prince of the house of _Bavaria_, who under the successive reigns of _Charlemagne_, _Louis le Debonnair_, and _Charles the Bald_, bore a great sway in the government, and had a principal hand in bringing everything into order and discipline---- Then he has been as great, said my uncle, in the field, as in the cabinet ----I dare say he has been a gallant soldier ----He was a monk--said the sacristan. My uncle _Toby_ and _Trim_ sought comfort in each other's faces--but found it not: my father clapped both his hands upon his cod-piece, which was a way he had when anything hugely tickled him: for though he hated a monk and the very smell of a monk worse than all the devils in hell----yet the shot hitting my uncle _Toby_ and _Trim_ so much harder than him, 'twas a relative triumph; and put him into the gayest humour in the world. ----And pray what do you call this gentleman? quoth my father, rather sportingly: This tomb, said the young _Benedictine_, looking downwards, contains the bones of Saint MAXIMA, who came from _Ravenna_ on purpose to touch the body---- ----Of Saint MAXIMUS, said my father, popping in with his saint before him, --they were two of the greatest saints in the whole martyrology, added my father ----Excuse me, said the sacristan--------'twas to touch the bones of Saint _Germain_, the builder of the abby ----And what did she get by it? said my uncle _Toby_ ----What does any woman get by it? said my father ----MARTYRDOME; replied the young _Benedictine_, making a bow down to the ground, and uttering the word with so humble but decisive a cadence, it disarmed my father for a moment. 'Tis supposed, continued the _Benedictine_, that St. _Maxima_ has lain in this tomb four hundred years, and two hundred before her canonization----'Tis but a slow rise, brother _Toby_, quoth my father, in this self-same army of martyrs. ----A desperate slow one, an' please your honour, said _Trim_, unless one could purchase ----I should rather sell out entirely, quoth my uncle _Toby_ ----I am pretty much of your opinion, brother _Toby_, said my father. ----Poor St. _Maxima!_ said my uncle _Toby_ low to himself, as we turn'd from her tomb: She was one of the fairest and most beautiful ladies either of _Italy_ or _France_, continued the sacristan ----But who the duce has got lain down here, besides her? quoth my father, pointing with his cane to a large tomb as we walked on ----It is Saint _Optat_, Sir, answered the sacristan ----And properly is Saint _Optat_ plac'd! said my father: And what is Saint _Optat's_ story? continued he. Saint _Optat_, replied the sacristan, was a bishop---- ----I thought so, by heaven! cried my father, interrupting him ----Saint _Optat!_----how should Saint _Optat_ fail? so snatching out his pocket-book, and the young _Benedictine_ holding him the torch as he wrote, he set it down as a new prop to his system of Christian names, and I will be bold to say, so disinterested was he in the search of truth, that had he found a treasure in Saint _Optat's_ tomb, it would not have made him half so rich: 'Twas as successful a short visit as ever was paid to the dead; and so highly was his fancy pleas'd with all that had passed in it, --that he determined at once to stay another day in _Auxerre_. --I'll see the rest of these good gentry to-morrow, said my father, as we cross'd over the square --And while you are paying that visit, brother _Shandy_, quoth my uncle _Toby_--the corporal and I will mount the ramparts.

All you need say of Fontainebleau, if you are asked, is that it stands about forty miles from Paris, in the middle of a large forest - that the king goes there every two or three years, with his court, to hunt - and any English gentleman of fashion may be loaned a horse to join in, taking care only not to out-gallop the king. Though there are two reasons why you need not talk loud of this to everyone. First, because 'twill make the said nags the harder to be got; and Secondly, because 'tis not a word of it true. Allons! As for Sens - you may dispatch it in a word - ''Tis an archiepiscopal see.' For Joigny - the less one says of it the better. But as for Auxerre - I could go on for ever: for in my grand tour through Europe, in which my father accompanied me, with my uncle Toby, and Trim, and Obadiah, and indeed most of the family, except my mother, who being taken up with a project of knitting my father a pair of large worsted breeches, stayed at home at Shandy Hall to keep things right during the expedition; in which, I say, my father stopping us two days at Auxerre, his researches left me plenty to say upon it - in short, wherever my father went - but especially in this journey through France and Italy - he saw kings and courts in such strange lights - and his remarks upon the characters and customs of the countries we passed over, were so opposite to those of all other mortal men - and to crown all - the scrapes which we were perpetually getting into, because of his opinions, were so odd and tragi-comical - and the whole tour appears so different from any other tour of Europe which was ever executed - that I venture to say the fault must be mine if it be not read by all travellers, till the world stands still. But this rich bale is not to be opened now; except a small thread or two of it, merely to unravel the mystery of my father's stay at Auxerre, since I have mentioned it. 'We'll go, brother Toby,' said my father, 'to the abbey of Saint Germain, to see these bodies which Monsieur Sequier recommends.' 'I'll go see any body,' quoth my uncle Toby; for he was all compliance throughout the journey. 'They are all mummies,' said my father. 'Then one need not shave,' quoth my uncle. 'Shave! No,' cried my father - ''twill be more like family to go with our beards on.' So out we went to the abbey of Saint Germain. 'Everything is very fine, and very rich, and very superb, and very magnificent,' said my father to the sacristan, who was a Benedictine - 'but we hoped to see the bodies, of which Monsieur Sequier has given the world so exact a description.' The sacristan bowed, and lighting a torch, he led us into the tomb of St. Heribald. 'This,' said the sacristan, laying his hand upon the tomb, 'was a renowned prince of Bavaria, who under the reigns of Charlemagne, Louis and Charles the Bald, held great sway in the government.' 'I dare say he was a gallant soldier too,' said my uncle. 'He was a monk,' said the sacristan. My uncle Toby and Trim looked at each other, dismayed; but my father clapped both his hands upon his cod-piece, which was a way he had when anything hugely tickled him: for though he hated a monk worse than all the devils in hell - yet this shot hitting my uncle Toby put him into the gayest humour in the world. 'And pray what do you call this gentleman?' quoth my father sportingly. 'This tomb,' said the young Benedictine, 'contains the bones of Saint Maxima, who came from Ravenna to touch the bones of Saint Germain, the builder of the abbey.' 'And what did she get by it?' said my uncle Toby. 'What does any woman get by it?' said my father. 'Martyrdom,' replied the young Benedictine, with so humble yet decisive a tone, it disarmed my father for a moment. ''Tis supposed,' continued the Benedictine, 'that St. Maxima has lain in this tomb four hundred years, and two hundred before her canonization.' ''Tis a slow rise, brother Toby,' quoth my father, 'in this army of martyrs.' 'A desperate slow one, your honour,' said Trim. 'Poor St. Maxima!' said my uncle Toby low to himself. 'She was one of the fairest ladies of Italy or France,' continued the sacristan. 'But who the deuce has got lain down here?' quoth my father, pointing with his cane to a large tomb as we walked on. 'It is Saint Optat, Sir,' answered the sacristan. 'And what is Saint Optat's story?' 'Saint Optat was a bishop-' 'I thought so, by heaven!' cried my father, interrupting him. 'Saint Optat!' and snatching out his pocket-book, he wrote it down as a new prop to his system of christian names. I will be so bold as to say that even if he had found a treasure in Saint Optat's tomb, it would not have made him half so rich. 'Twas as successful a visit as ever was paid to the dead; and so pleased was my father that he determined at once to stay another day in Auxerre. 'I'll see the rest of these good gentry to-morrow,' said my father, as we crossed the square. 'And while you are paying that visit, brother,' quoth my uncle Toby, 'the corporal and I will mount the ramparts.'

Tristram Shandy

Book 7 - Chapter 27

My father lay stretched across the bed as still as if the hand of death had pushed him down, for a full hour and a half before he began to play upon the floor with the toe of that foot which hung over the bed-side; my uncle _Toby's_ heart was a pound lighter for it. ------In a few moments, his left-hand, the knuckles of which had all the time reclined upon the handle of the chamber-pot, came to its feeling--he thrust it a little more within the valance--drew up his hand, when he had done, into his bosom--gave a hem! My good uncle _Toby_, with infinite pleasure, answered it; and full gladly would have ingrafted a sentence of consolation upon the opening it afforded: but having no talents, as I said, that way, and fearing moreover that he might set out with something which might make a bad matter worse, he contented himself with resting his chin placidly upon the cross of his crutch. Now whether the compression shortened my uncle _Toby's_ face into a more pleasurable oval--or that the philanthropy of his heart, in seeing his brother beginning to emerge out of the sea of his afflictions, had braced up his muscles----so that the compression upon his chin only doubled the benignity which was there before, is not hard to decide. ----My father, in turning his eyes, was struck with such a gleam of sunshine in his face, as melted down the sullenness of his grief in a moment. He broke silence as follows.

My father lay stretched across the bed as still as if the hand of death had pushed him down, for a full hour and a half, before he began to play upon the floor with the foot which hung over the bed-side; my uncle Toby's heart was lighter for it. In a few moments, his left-hand, which had all the time reclined upon the handle of the chamber-pot, thrust it a little more under the bed - he drew up his hand - gave a hem! My good uncle Toby, with infinite pleasure, answered it; and gladly would have added a sentence of consolation: but having no talents that way, and fearing that he might say something to make a bad matter worse, he contented himself with resting his chin placidly upon the cross of his crutch. Now whether the compression shortened my uncle Toby's face into a more pleasurable oval - or whether the philanthropy of his heart braced up his muscles, doubling the benignity which was there before, is not hard to decide. My father, in turning his eyes, was struck with such a gleam of sunshine in his face, as melted the sullenness of his grief in a moment. He broke silence as follows.

Tristram Shandy

Book 4 - Chapter 2

"Now before I quit _Calais_," a travel-writer would say, "it would not be amiss to give some account of it." --Now I think it very much amiss--that a man cannot go quietly through a town and let it alone, when it does not meddle with him, but that he must be turning about and drawing his pen at every kennel he crosses over, merely o' my conscience for the sake of drawing it; because, if we may judge from what has been wrote of these things, by all who have _wrote and gallop'd_--or who have _gallop'd and wrote_, which is a different way still; or who, for more expedition than the rest, have _wrote galloping_, which is the way I do at present----from the great _Addison_, who did it with his satchel of school books hanging at his a--, and galling his beast's crupper at every stroke--there is not a gallopper of us all who might not have gone on ambling quietly in his own ground (in case he had any), and have wrote all he had to write, dryshod, as well as not. For my own part, as heaven is my judge, and to which I shall ever make my last appeal --I know no more of _Calais_ (except the little my barber told me of it as he was whetting his razor), than I do this moment of _Grand Cairo_; for it was dusky in the evening when I landed, and dark as pitch in the morning when I set out, and yet by merely knowing what is what, and by drawing this from that in one part of the town, and by spelling and putting this and that together in another --I would lay any travelling odds, that I this moment write a chapter upon _Calais_ as long as my arm; and with so distinct and satisfactory a detail of every item, which is worth a stranger's curiosity in the town--that you would take me for the town-clerk of _Calais_ itself--and where, sir, would be the wonder? was not _Democritus_, who laughed ten times more than I--town-clerk of _Abdera?_ and was not (I forget his name) who had more discretion than us both, town-clerk of _Ephesus?_ ----it should be penn'd moreover, sir, with so much knowledge and good sense, and truth, and precision---- --Nay--if you don't believe me, you may read the chapter for your pains.

'Now before I leave Calais,' a travel-writer would say, 'it would not be amiss to give some account of it.' Now I think it very much amiss that a man cannot go quietly through a town and let it alone, when it does not meddle with him; but he must be taking out his pen at every kennel he crosses over, for the sake of describing it. If we may judge from what has been wrote of these things, by all who have wrote and galloped - or who have galloped and wrote - or who have wrote galloping, which is the way I do - from the great Addison, who did it with his satchel of school books hanging at his a___, there is not a galloper of us all who might not have gone on ambling quietly in his own ground, and have wrote all he had to write there. For my own part, as heaven is my judge - I know no more of Calais (except the little my barber told me of it as he was sharpening his razor), than I do of Cairo; for it was dusky evening when I landed, and as dark as pitch in the morning when I set out. Yet by merely knowing what is what, and by putting this and that together, I would lay odds that I could this moment write a chapter upon Calais as long as my arm; and with such distinct and satisfactory detail that you would take me for the town-clerk himself. - It should be penned moreover, sir, with so much knowledge and good sense, and truth, and precision- - Nay - if you don't believe me, you may read the chapter.

Tristram Shandy

Book 7 - Chapter 4

It is about an hour and a half's tolerable good reading since my uncle _Toby_ rung the bell, when _Obadiah_ was ordered to saddle a horse, and go for Dr. _Slop_, the man-midwife; --so that no one can say, with reason, that I have not allowed _Obadiah_ time enough, poetically speaking, and considering the emergency too, both to go and come; ----though, morally and truly speaking, the man perhaps has scarce had time to get on his boots. If the hypercritick will go upon this; and is resolved after all to take a pendulum, and measure the true distance betwixt the ringing of the bell, and the rap at the door; --and, after finding it to be no more than two minutes, thirteen seconds, and three fifths, --should take upon him to insult over me for such a breach in the unity, or rather probability of time; --I would remind him, that the idea of duration, and of its simple modes, is got merely from the train and succession of our ideas, ----and is the true scholastic pendulum, ----and by which, as a scholar, I will be tried in this matter, --abjuring and detesting the jurisdiction of all other pendulums whatever. I would therefore desire him to consider that it is but poor eight miles from _Shandy-Hall_ to Dr. _Slop_, the man-midwife's house; --and that whilst _Obadiah_ has been going those said miles and back, I have brought my uncle _Toby_ from _Namur_, quite across all _Flanders_, into _England_: --That I have had him ill upon my hands near four years; --and have since travelled him and Corporal _Trim_ in a chariot-and-four, a journey of near two hundred miles down into _Yorkshire_, ----all which put together, must have prepared the reader's imagination for the entrance of Dr. _Slop_ upon the stage, --as much, at least (I hope) as a dance, a song, or a concerto between the acts. If my hypercritick is intractable, alledging, that two minutes and thirteen seconds are no more than two minutes and thirteen seconds, --when I have said all I can about them; and that this plea, though it might save me dramatically, will damn me biographically, rendering my book from this very moment, a professed ROMANCE, which, before, was a book apocryphal: ----If I am thus pressed --I then put an end to the whole objection and controversy about it all at once, ----by acquainting him, that _Obadiah_ had not got above threescore yards from the stable-yard before he met with Dr. _Slop_; --and indeed he gave a dirty proof that he had met with him, and was within an ace of giving a tragical one too. Imagine to yourself; --but this had better begin a new chapter.

It is about an hour and a half's good reading since my uncle Toby rung the bell, and Obadiah was ordered to go for Dr. Slop, the man-midwife; so no one can say that I have not allowed Obadiah time enough, poetically speaking, to go and return; - though, truly speaking, the man perhaps has scarce had time to get on his boots. If the critic is resolved to measure the true distance betwixt the ringing of the bell and the rap at the door; and, finding it to be no more than two minutes thirteen seconds, should decide to insult me for such a breach in the probability of time; - I would remind him that the idea of duration is got merely from the succession of our ideas. I would ask him to consider that it is only eight miles from Shandy-Hall to Dr. Slop's house; and that whilst Obadiah has been going there and back, I have brought my uncle Toby from Namur, across all Flanders, into England: - that I have had him ill upon my hands four years; - and have taken him and Corporal Trim a journey of near two hundred miles into Yorkshire, all of which must have prepared the reader's imagination for the entrance of Dr. Slop upon the stage. If my critic is intractable, alleging that two minutes and thirteen seconds are no more than two minutes and thirteen seconds, and will render my book a Romance - if I am thus pressed - I then put an end to the whole objection, by informing him that Obadiah had got no more than sixty yards from the stable before he met with Dr. Slop; and indeed he gave a dirty proof that he had met with him, and was within an ace of giving a tragical one too. Imagine to yourself - but this had better begin a new chapter.

Tristram Shandy

Book 2 - Chapter 8

There will be just time, whilst my uncle _Toby_ and _Trim_ are walking to my father's, to inform you that Mrs. _Wadman_ had, some moons before this, made a confident of my mother; and that Mrs. _Bridget_, who had the burden of her own, as well as her mistress's secret to carry, had got happily delivered of both to _Susannah_ behind the garden-wall. As for my mother, she saw nothing at all in it, to make the least bustle about----but _Susannah_ was sufficient by herself for all the ends and purposes you could possibly have, in exporting a family secret; for she instantly imparted it by signs to _Jonathan_----and _Jonathan_ by tokens to the cook as she was basting a loin of mutton; the cook sold it with some kitchen-fat to the postillion for a groat, who truck'd it with the dairy maid for something of about the same value----and though whisper'd in the hay-loft, FAME caught the notes with her brazen trumpet, and sounded them upon the house-top --In a word, not an old woman in the village or five miles round, who did not understand the difficulties of my uncle _Toby's_ siege, and what were the secret articles which had delayed the surrender.---- My father, whose way was to force every event in nature into an hypothesis, by which means never man crucified TRUTH at the rate he did----had but just heard of the report as my uncle _Toby_ set out; and catching fire suddenly at the trespass done his brother by it, was demonstrating to _Yorick_, notwithstanding my mother was sitting by----not only, "That the devil was in women, and that the whole of the affair was lust;" but that every evil and disorder in the world, of what kind or nature soever, from the first fall of _Adam_, down to my uncle _Toby's_ (inclusive), was owing one way or other to the same unruly appetite. _Yorick_ was just bringing my father's hypothesis to some temper, when my uncle _Toby_ entering the room with marks of infinite benevolence and forgiveness in his looks, my father's eloquence rekindled against the passion----and as he was not very nice in the choice of his words when he was wroth----as soon as my uncle _Toby_ was seated by the fire, and had filled his pipe, my father broke out in this manner.

There will be just time, whilst my uncle Toby and Trim are walking to my father's, to inform you that Mrs. Wadman had, some months before this, confided in my mother; and that Mrs. Bridget, who had the burden of her own and her mistress's secret to carry, had got happily delivered of both to Susannah behind the garden-wall. As for my mother, she saw nothing in it to make a fuss about - but Susannah was the perfect means to export a family secret; for she instantly imparted it to Jonathan, and Jonathan to the cook; the cook sold it with some kitchen-fat to the postillion for a groat, who traded it with the dairy maid for something of about the same value - and though whispered in the hay-loft, Fame caught the notes with her brazen trumpet, and sounded them upon the house-top. In a word, there was not an old woman in the village or five miles round, who did not understand the difficulties of my uncle Toby's siege, and what were the secret articles which had delayed the surrender. My father, whose way was to force every event in nature into an hypothesis, by which means no man ever crucified Truth at the rate he did - had just heard of the report as my uncle Toby set out; and was demonstrating to Yorick, despite my mother sitting by - not only 'That the devil was in women, and that the whole of the affair was lust;' but that every evil and disorder in the world, of whatever kind, from the first fall of Adam down to my uncle Toby's, was owing one way or other to the same unruly appetite. Yorick was trying to make my father's hypothesis more temperate, when my uncle Toby entered the room. At the infinite benevolence and forgiveness in his looks, my father's eloquence rekindled against the passion - and as he was not very fastidious in his choice of words when he was angry, as soon as my uncle Toby was seated by the fire, my father broke out in this manner.

Tristram Shandy

Book 9 - Chapter 32

With two or three other trinkets, small in themselves, but of great regard, which poor _Tom_, the corporal's unfortunate brother, had sent him over, with the account of his marriage with the _Jew's_ widow----there was A _Montero_-cap and two _Turkish_ tobacco-pipes. The _Montero_-cap I shall describe by and bye. ----The _Turkish_ tobacco-pipes had nothing particular in them, they were fitted up and ornamented as usual, with flexible tubes of _Morocco_ leather and gold wire, and mounted at their ends, the one of them with ivory, --the other with black ebony, tipp'd with silver. My father, who saw all things in lights different from the rest of the world, would say to the corporal, that he ought to look upon these two presents more as tokens of his brother's nicety, than his affection. ----_Tom_ did not care, _Trim_, he would say, to put on the cap, or to smoke in the tobacco-pipe of a _Jew_. ----God bless your honour, the corporal would say, (giving a strong reason to the contrary)--how can that be? The Montero-cap was scarlet, of a superfine _Spanish_ cloth, dyed in grain, and mounted all round with fur, except about four inches in the front, which was faced with a light blue, slightly embroidered, --and seemed to have been the property of a _Portuguese_ quartermaster, not of foot, but of horse, as the word denotes. The corporal was not a little proud of it, as well for its own sake, as the sake of the giver, so seldom or never put it on but upon GALA-days; and yet never was a Montero-cap put to so many uses; for in all controverted points, whether military or culinary, provided the corporal was sure he was in the right, --it was either his _oath_, --his _wager_, --or his _gift_. ----'Twas his gift in the present case. I'll be bound, said the corporal, speaking to himself, to _give_ away my Montero-cap to the first beggar who comes to the door, if I do not manage this matter to his honour's satisfaction. The completion was no further off than the very next morning; which was that of the storm of the counterscarp betwixt the _Lower Deule_, to the right, and the gate _St. Andrew_, --and on the left, between St. _Magdalen's_ and the river. As this was the most memorable attack in the whole war, --the most gallant and obstinate on both sides, --and I must add the most bloody too, for it cost the allies themselves that morning above eleven hundred men, --my uncle _Toby_ prepared himself for it with a more than ordinary solemnity. The eve which preceded, as my uncle _Toby_ went to bed, he ordered his ramallie wig, which had laid inside out for many years in the corner of an old compaigning trunk, which stood by his bedside, to be taken out and laid upon the lid of it, ready for the morning; --and the very first thing he did in his shirt, when he had stepped out of bed, my uncle _Toby_, after he had turned the rough side outwards, --put it on: ----This done, he proceeded next to his breeches, and having buttoned the waistband, he forthwith buckled on his sword-belt, and had got his sword half way in, --when he considered he should want shaving, and that it would be very inconvenient doing it with his sword on, --so took it off: ----In assaying to put on his regimental coat and waistcoat, my uncle _Toby_ found the same objection in his wig, --so that went off too: --So that what with one thing and what with another, as always falls out when a man is in the most haste, --'twas ten o'clock, which was half an hour later than his usual time, before my uncle _Toby_ sallied out.

Poor Tom, the corporal's unfortunate brother who married the Jew's widow, had sent him over some trinkets, amongst which there was A Montero-cap and two Turkish tobacco-pipes. The Turkish tobacco-pipes were ornamented with flexible tubes of Morocco leather and gold wire, and mounted at their ends, one with ivory, the other with black ebony, tipped with silver. The Montero-cap was scarlet, of a superfine Spanish cloth, mounted all round with fur, except about four inches in the front, which was faced with a light blue embroidered cloth. It seemed to have been the property of a Portuguese quartermaster. The corporal was proud of it, for its own sake as well as for the sake of the giver, so he seldom wore it; and yet never was a Montero-cap put to so many uses; for in all disputed points, provided the corporal was sure he was in the right, it was either his oath, his wager, or his gift. - 'Twas his gift in the present case. 'I'll be bound,' said the corporal to himself, 'to give away my Montero-cap to the first beggar who comes to the door, if I do not manage this matter to his honour's satisfaction.' He completed it the very next morning; which was that of the storm of the counterscarp betwixt the Lower Deule and St Andrew's Gate; and on the left, between St. Magdalen's and the river. As this was the most memorable, gallant and bloody attack in the whole war, my uncle Toby prepared himself for it with more than ordinary solemnity. The evening before, as my uncle Toby went to bed, he ordered his ramallie wig, which had laid inside out for many years in the corner of an old campaigning trunk, to be taken out, ready for the morning; - and the first thing he did, when he had stepped out of bed, was to put it on. He proceeded next to his breeches, and buckled on his sword-belt. He had got his sword half way in, when he considered he should want shaving, and that it would be very inconvenient doing it with his sword on, so took it off. He then found the same objection in his wig - so that went off too. So that what with one thing and another, 'twas ten o'clock, half an hour later than his usual time, before my uncle Toby sallied out.

Tristram Shandy

Book 6 - Chapter 24

----We'll not stop two moments, my dear Sir, --only, as we have got through these five volumes,[6.1] (do, Sir, sit down upon a set----they are better than nothing) let us just look back upon the country we have pass'd through.---- ----What a wilderness has it been! and what a mercy that we have not both of us been lost, or devoured by wild beasts in it! Did you think the world itself, Sir, had contained such a number of Jack Asses? ----How they view'd and review'd us as we passed over the rivulet at the bottom of that little valley! ----and when we climbed over that hill, and were just getting out of sight--good God! what a braying did they all set up together! ----Prithee, shepherd! who keeps all those Jack Asses? * * * ----Heaven be their comforter ----What! are they never curried? ----Are they never taken in in winter? ----Bray bray--bray. Bray on, --the world is deeply your debtor; ----louder still--that's nothing: --in good sooth, you are ill-used: ----Was I a Jack Asse, I solemnly declare, I would bray in G-fol-re-ut from morning, even unto night. [Footnote 6.1: In the first edition, the sixth volume began with this chapter.]

We'll not stop two moments, my dear Sir, - only, as we have got through five volumes, (do, Sir, sit down upon a set - they are better than nothing) let us just look back upon the country we have passed through. - What a wilderness has it been! and what a mercy that we have not been lost in it! Did you think the world contained so many Jack Asses? How they viewed and reviewed us as we passed over the bottom of that little valley! and when we climbed that hill, and were just getting out of sight - good God! what a braying did they all set up! Prithee, shepherd! who keeps all those Jack Asses? * * * What! are they never groomed? Never taken in in winter? Bray - bray, bray on - louder still - that's nothing. Was I a Jack Ass, I solemnly declare, I would bray from morning until night.

Tristram Shandy

Book 6 - Chapter 1

My uncle _Toby's_ Map is carried down into the kitchen.

My uncle Toby's Map is carried down into the kitchen.

Tristram Shandy

Book 9 - Chapter 27

"It is with Love as with Cuckoldom"----the suffering party is at least the _third_, but generally the last in the house who knows anything about the matter: this comes, as all the world knows, from having half a dozen words for one thing; and so long, as what in this vessel of the human frame, is _Love_--may be _Hatred_, in that----_Sentiment_ half a yard higher----and _Nonsense_----------no, Madam, --not there ----I mean at the part I am now pointing to with my forefinger----how can we help ourselves? Of all mortal, and immortal men too, if you please, who ever soliloquized upon this mystic subject, my uncle _Toby_ was the worst fitted, to have push'd his researches, thro' such a contention of feelings; and he had infallibly let them all run on, as we do worse matters, to see what they would turn out----had not _Bridget's_ pre-notification of them to _Susannah_, and _Susannah's_ repeated manifestoes thereupon to all the world, made it necessary for my uncle _Toby_ to look into the affair.

'It is with Love as with Cuckoldom' - the suffering party is generally the last who knows anything about it: this comes from having half a dozen words for one thing; and so long as what to one man's breast is Love may be Hatred, in another - or Sentiment or Nonsense - no Madam, not there, I mean the part I am pointing at - how can we help ourselves? Of all mortal men who ever soliloquized upon this mystic subject, my uncle Toby was the worst fitted to have pushed his researches through such a trial of feelings; and he would have let them run on, to see how they would turn out - had not Bridget's telling of them to Susannah, and Susannah's disclosure to all the world, made it necessary for my uncle Toby to look into the affair.

Tristram Shandy

Book 8 - Chapter 4

I wish I could write a chapter upon sleep. A fitter occasion could never have presented itself, than what this moment offers, when all the curtains of the family are drawn--the candles put out--and no creature's eyes are open but a single one, for the other has been shut these twenty years, of my mother's nurse. It is a fine subject! And yet, as fine as it is, I would undertake to write a dozen chapters upon button-holes, both quicker and with more fame, than a single chapter upon this. Button-holes! there is something lively in the very idea of 'em----and trust me, when I get amongst 'em ----You gentry with great beards----look as grave as you will ------I'll make merry work with my button-holes --I shall have 'em all to myself--'tis a maiden subject --I shall run foul of no man's wisdom or fine sayings in it. But for sleep ----I know I shall make nothing of it before I begin --I am no dab at your fine sayings in the first place--and in the next, I cannot for my soul set a grave face upon a bad matter, and tell the world--'tis the refuge of the unfortunate--the enfranchisement of the prisoner--the downy lap of the hopeless, the weary, and the broken-hearted; nor could I set out with a lye in my mouth, by affirming, that of all the soft and delicious functions of our nature, by which the great Author of it, in his bounty, has been pleased to recompense the sufferings wherewith his justice and his good pleasure has wearied us----that this is the chiefest (I know pleasures worth ten of it); or what a happiness it is to man, when the anxieties and passions of the day are over, and he lies down upon his back, that his soul shall be so seated within him, that whichever way she turns her eyes, the heavens shall look calm and sweet above her--no desire--or fear--or doubt that troubles the air, nor any difficulty past, present, or to come, that the imagination may not pass over without offence, in that sweet secession. "God's blessing," said _Sancho Pana_, "be upon the man who first invented this self-same thing called sleep--it covers a man all over like a cloak." Now there is more to me in this, and it speaks warmer to my heart and affections, than all the dissertations squeez'd out of the heads of the learned together upon the subject. --Not that I altogether disapprove of what _Montaigne_ advances upon it--'tis admirable in its way--(I quote by memory). The world enjoys other pleasures, says he, as they do that of sleep, without tasting or feeling it as it slips and passes by. --We should study and ruminate upon it, in order to render proper thanks to him who grants it to us. --For this end I cause myself to be disturbed in my sleep, that I may the better and more sensibly relish it. ----And yet I see few, says he again, who live with less sleep, when need requires; my body is capable of a firm, but not of a violent and sudden agitation --I evade of late all violent exercises ----I am never weary with walking----but from my youth, I never liked to ride upon pavements. I love to lie hard and alone, and even without my wife ----This last word may stagger the faith of the world----but remember, "La Vraisemblance (as _Bayle_ says in the affair of _Liceti_) n'est pas toujours du Ct de la Verit." And so much for sleep.

I wish I could write a chapter upon sleep. A fitter occasion could never have presented itself than this moment, when all the curtains are drawn - the candles put out - and no creature's eyes are open but a single one, of my mother's nurse. It is a fine subject! And yet, fine as it is, I would rather write a dozen chapters upon button-holes than a single chapter upon this. Button-holes! there is something lively in the very idea of 'em - and trust me, when I get amongst 'em - You gentry look as grave as you will - I'll make merry work with my button-holes. I shall have 'em all to myself - 'tis a maiden subject - I shall run foul of no man's fine sayings in it. But as for sleep - I know I shall make nothing of it before I begin. I am no dab hand at fine sayings in the first place, and in the next, I cannot for my soul look grave, and tell the world 'tis the refuge of the unfortunate - the freedom of the prisoner - the comfort of the hopeless and the weary; nor could I lie by affirming, that - of all the delicious functions of our nature, by which God, in his bounty, has been pleased to recompense the sufferings wherewith his justice has wearied us - that this is the chiefest (for I know pleasures worth ten of it); or what a happiness it is to man, when the anxieties of the day are over, and he lies back, with the heavens looking calm and sweet above him - no fear or doubt troubling him. 'God's blessing,' said Sancho Panza, 'be upon the man who first invented this thing called sleep - it covers a man like a cloak.' Now this speaks warmer to my heart than all the dissertations squeezed out of the heads of the learned. Not that I altogether disapprove of what Montaigne says - 'tis admirable in its way; (I quote by memory): 'The world enjoys other pleasures,' says he, 'as they do that of sleep, without feeling it as it slips by. We should ruminate upon it, in order to give proper thanks to him who grants it to us. I cause myself to be disturbed in my sleep, so that I may the better relish it. And yet I see few,' says he, 'who sleep less than me. I love to lie hard and alone, and even without my wife. This last may stagger the world - but remember, "La Vraisemblance n'est pas toujours du Ct de la Verit."' And so much for sleep.

Tristram Shandy

Book 4 - Chapter 15

----'Twas by a poor ass, who had just turned in with a couple of large panniers upon his back, to collect eleemosynary turnip-tops and cabbage-leaves; and stood dubious, with his two fore-feet on the inside of the threshold, and with his two hinder feet towards the street, as not knowing very well whether he was to go in or no. Now, 'tis an animal (be in what hurry I may) I cannot bear to strike----there is a patient endurance of sufferings, wrote so unaffectedly in his looks and carriage, which pleads so mightily for him, that it always disarms me; and to that degree, that I do not like to speak unkindly to him: on the contrary, meet him where I will--whether in town or country--in cart or under panniers--whether in liberty or bondage ----I have ever something civil to say to him on my part; and as one word begets another (if he has as little to do as I) ----I generally fall into conversation with him; and surely never is my imagination so busy as in framing his responses from the etchings of his countenance--and where those carry me not deep enough----in flying from my own heart into his, and seeing what is natural for an ass to think--as well as a man, upon the occasion. In truth, it is the only creature of all the classes of beings below me, with whom I can do this: for parrots, jackdaws, &c. ----I never exchange a word with them----nor with the apes, &c., for pretty near the same reason; they act by rote, as the others speak by it, and equally make me silent: nay my dog and my cat, though I value them both----(and for my dog he would speak if he could)--yet somehow or other, they neither of them possess the talents for conversation ----I can make nothing of a discourse with them, beyond the _proposition_, the _reply_, and _rejoinder_, which terminated my father's and my mother's conversations, in his beds of justice----and those utter'd----there's an end of the dialogue---- --But with an ass, I can commune for ever. Come, _Honesty!_ said I, ----seeing it was impracticable to pass betwixt him and the gate----art thou for coming in, or going out? The ass twisted his head round to look up the street---- Well--replied I--we'll wait a minute for thy driver: ----He turned his head thoughtful about, and looked wistfully the opposite way---- I understand thee perfectly, answered I ----If thou takest a wrong step in this affair, he will cudgel thee to death ----Well! a minute is but a minute, and if it saves a fellow-creature a drubbing, it shall not be set down as ill spent. He was eating the stem of an artichoke as this discourse went on, and in the little peevish contentions of nature betwixt hunger and unsavouriness, had dropt it out of his mouth half a dozen times, and pick'd it up again ----God help thee, _Jack!_ said I, thou hast a bitter breakfast on't--and many a bitter day's labour, --and many a bitter blow, I fear, for its wages----'tis all--all bitterness to thee, whatever life is to others. ----And now thy mouth, if one knew the truth of it, is as bitter, I dare say, as soot--(for he had cast aside the stem) and thou hast not a friend perhaps in all this world, that will give thee a macaroon. ----In saying this, I pull'd out a paper of 'em, which I had just purchased, and gave him one--and at this moment that I am telling it, my heart smites me, that there was more of pleasantry in the conceit, of seeing _how_ an ass would eat a macaroon----than of benevolence in giving him one, which presided in the act. When the ass had eaten his macaroon, I press'd him to come in--the poor beast was heavy loaded----his legs seem'd to tremble under him----he hung rather backwards, and as I pull'd at his halter, it broke short in my hand----he look'd up pensive in my face-- "Don't thrash me with it--but if you will, you may" ----If I do, said I, I'll be d----d. The word was but one-half of it pronounced, like the abbess of _Andoillets'_--(so there was no sin in it)--when a person coming in, let fall a thundering bastinado upon the poor devil's crupper, which put an end to the ceremony. _Out upon it!_ cried I----but the interjection was equivocal----and, I think, wrong placed too--for the end of an osier which had started out from the contexture of the ass's pannier, had caught hold of my breeches pocket, as he rush'd by me, and rent it in the most disastrous direction you can imagine----so that the _Out upon it!_ in my opinion, should have come in here----but this I leave to be settled by THE REVIEWERS OF MY BREECHES, which I have brought over along with me for that purpose.

-'Twas by a poor ass, who had just turned in with a couple of large panniers upon his back, for turnip-tops and cabbage-leaves; and stood dubious, with his two fore-feet on the inside of the threshold, and with his two hind feet on the street, not knowing whether he was to go in or no. Now, I cannot bear to strike an ass - there is such a patient endurance of sufferings in his looks that it always disarms me; and I do not even like to speak unkindly to him. On the contrary, wherever I meet an ass, I have always something civil to say to him; and as one word begets another, I generally fall into conversation with him: imagining his responses from the expression on his face - or from looking into his heart, and seeing what is natural for an ass to think. In truth, it is the only creature with whom I can do this: for parrots, jackdaws, &c. - I never exchange a word with them - nor with apes; for they act by rote, as parrots speak by it, and both make me silent. Even my dog and my cat, though I value them both (and my dog would speak if he could) - yet neither of them has the talents for conversation - I can make nothing of a discourse with them, beyond the proposition, the reply, and rejoinder, which ended my father's and mother's conversations in his beds of justice. - But with an ass, I can commune for ever. 'Come, Honesty!' said I, seeing it was impossible to get past him - 'art thou coming in, or going out?' The ass twisted his head round to look up the street. 'Well,' replied I, 'we'll wait a minute for thy driver.' He turned his head and looked wistfully the opposite way. 'I understand thee perfectly,' answered I. 'If thou takest a wrong step, he will cudgel thee to death. - Well! a minute is but a minute, and if it saves a fellow-creature a beating, it is not ill spent.' He was eating the stem of an artichoke as this went on, and had dropped it out of his mouth half a dozen times, and picked it up again. 'God help thee, Jack!' said I, 'thou hast a bitter breakfast - and a bitter day's labour, and many a bitter blow, I fear, for wages. - And now thy mouth is as bitter, I dare say, as soot' (for he had cast aside the stem) 'and thou hast not a friend in all this world, that will give thee a macaroon.' In saying this, I pulled out a bag of 'em, which I had just purchased, and gave him one - and my heart smites me, that I did this more to see how an ass would eat a macaroon than out of kindness. When the ass had eaten his macaroon, I pressed him to come in. The poor beast was heavily loaded - his legs seemed to tremble - and as I pulled at his halter, it broke in my hand. He looked up pensive as if to say, 'Don't thrash me with it.' 'If I do,' said I, 'I'll be d__d.' The word was but half pronounced, like the abbess of Andoillets's (so there was no sin in it) - when a person coming in, let fall a thundering blow upon the poor devil's crupper. 'Out upon it!' cried I - but the interjection was equivocal - for the end of an willow branch in the ass's pannier had caught hold of my breeches pocket as he rushed past me, and rent it in the most disastrous direction you can imagine - so that the 'Out upon it!' in my opinion, should have come here. But this I leave to be settled by THE REVIEWERS OF MY BREECHES, which I have brought along with me for that purpose.

Tristram Shandy

Book 7 - Chapter 32

----But softly----for in these sportive plains, and under this genial sun, where at this instant all flesh is running out piping, fiddling, and dancing to the vintage, and every step that's taken, the judgment is surprised by the imagination, I defy, notwithstanding all that has been said upon _straight lines_[8.1] in sundry pages of my book --I defy the best cabbage planter that ever existed, whether he plants backwards or forwards, it makes little difference in the account (except that he will have more to answer for in the one case than in the other) --I defy him to go on coolly, critically, and canonically, planting his cabbages one by one, in straight lines, and stoical distances, especially if slits in petticoats are unsew'd up--without ever and anon straddling out, or sidling into some bastardly digression ----In _Freeze-land_, _Fog-land_, and some other lands I wot of--it may be done---- But in this clear climate of fantasy and perspiration, where every idea, sensible and insensible, gets vent--in this land, my dear _Eugenius_--in this fertile land of chivalry and romance, where I now sit, unskrewing my ink-horn to write my uncle _Toby's_ amours, and with all the meanders of JULIA'S track in quest of her DIEGO, in full view of my study window--if thou comest not and takest me by the hand---- What a work it is likely to turn out! Let us begin it. [Footnote 8.1: Vid. pp. 347-348.] [[Book VI, Chapter XL]]

- But softly - on these sportive plains, and under this genial sun, where all flesh is running out piping, fiddling, and dancing, I defy - despite all that I have earlier said upon straight lines - I defy the best cabbage planter in existence to go on coolly and critically planting his cabbages in straight lines, without straddling out, or sidling into some bastardly digression. - In Freeze-land, or Fog-land, it may be done- But in this clear climate of fantasy and perspiration, where every idea gets vent - in this fertile land of chivalry and romance, where I now sit, unscrewing my ink-horn to write my uncle Toby's amours, with all the meanders of Julia's track in quest of her Diego in full view of my study window - if thou comest not and takest me by the hand- What a work it is likely to turn out! Let us begin it.

Tristram Shandy

Book 8 - Chapter 1

I beg the reader will assist me here, to wheel off my uncle _Toby's_ ordnance behind the scenes, ----to remove his sentry-box, and clear the theatre, _if possible_, of horn-works and half moons, and get the rest of his military apparatus out of the way; ----that done, my dear friend _Garrick_, we'll snuff the candles bright, --sweep the stage with a new broom, --draw up the curtain, and exhibit my uncle _Toby_ dressed in a new character, throughout which the world can have no idea how he will act: and yet, if pity be a-kin to love, --and bravery no alien to it, you have seen enough of my uncle _Toby_ in these, to trace these family likenesses betwixt the two passions (in case there is one) to your heart's content. Vain science! thou assistest us in no case of this kind--and thou puzzlest us in every one. There was, Madam, in my uncle _Toby_, a singleness of heart which misled him so far out of the little serpentine tracks in which things of this nature usually go on; you can--you can have no conception of it: with this, there was a plainness and simplicity of thinking, with such an unmistrusting ignorance of the plies and foldings of the heart of woman; ----and so naked and defenceless did he stand before you (when a siege was out of his head), that you might have stood behind any one of your serpentine walks, and shot my uncle _Toby_ ten times in a day, through his liver, if nine times in a day, Madam, had not served your purpose. With all this, Madam, --and what confounded everything as much on the other hand, my uncle _Toby_ had that unparalleled modesty of nature I once told you of, and which, by the bye, stood eternal sentry upon his feelings, that you might as soon ----But where am I going? these reflections crowd in upon me ten pages at least too soon, and take up that time, which I ought to bestow upon facts.

I beg the reader will assist me here, to wheel off my uncle Toby's ordnance behind the scenes, - to remove his sentry-box, and clear his military apparatus out of the way; that done, my dear friend Garrick, we'll sweep the stage, draw up the curtain, and exhibit my uncle Toby dressed in a new character, in which the world can have no idea how he will act. And yet, if pity be akin to love, and bravery likewise, you have seen enough of my uncle Toby to trace these family likenesses betwixt the passions. There was, Madam, in my uncle Toby, a singleness of heart which misled him so far out of the little serpentine tracks in which things of this nature usually go on, you can have no conception of it. There was a plainness and simplicity of thinking, with such a trusting ignorance of the foldings of the heart of woman; - and so naked and defenceless did he stand before you (when a siege was out of his head), that you might have shot my uncle, Madam, ten times in a day. With all this, my uncle Toby had that unparalleled modesty of nature I once told you of, which stood eternal sentry upon his feelings, so that you might as well- But where am I going? these reflections crowd in upon me ten pages at least too soon, and take up time which I ought to give to facts.

Tristram Shandy

Book 6 - Chapter 29

----'Twas nothing, --I did not lose two drops of blood by it---- ----'twas not worth calling in a surgeon, had he lived next door to us----thousands suffer by choice, what I did by accident. ----Doctor _Slop_ made ten times more of it, than there was occasion: ----some men rise, by the art of hanging great weights upon small wires, --and I am this day (_August_ the 10th, 1761) paying part of the price of this man's reputation. ----O 'twould provoke a stone, to see how things are carried on in this world! ----The chamber-maid had left no ******* *** under the bed: ----Cannot you contrive, master, quoth _Susannah_, lifting up the sash with one hand, as she spoke, and helping me up into the window-seat with the other, --cannot you manage, my dear, for a single time, to **** *** ** *** ******? I was five years old. ----_Susannah_ did not consider that nothing was well hung in our family, ----so slap came the sash down like lightning upon us; --Nothing is left, --cried _Susannah_, --nothing is left--for me, but to run my country.---- My uncle _Toby's_ house was a much kinder sanctuary; and so _Susannah_ fled to it.

-'Twas nothing, - I did not lose two drops of blood - 'twas not worth calling in a surgeon. - Thousands suffer by choice, what I did by accident. Doctor Slop made ten times more of it than he needed: and I am this day (August the 10th, 1761) paying the price of this man's reputation. - O, 'twould provoke a stone, to see how things go on in this world! The chamber-maid had left no chamber pot under the bed: 'Cannot you contrive, master,' quoth Susannah, lifting up the sash window with one hand, as she spoke, and helping me up into the window-seat with the other, 'cannot you manage, my dear, just once, to **** *** ** *** ******?' I was five years old. Susannah did not consider that nothing was well hung in our family, - so slap came the sash window down like lightning upon me. - 'Nothing is left for me,' cried Susannah, 'but to flee the country.' My uncle Toby's house was a much kinder sanctuary; and so Susannah fled to it.

Tristram Shandy

Book 5 - Chapter 17

"What prodigious armies you had in _Flanders!_" ----Brother _Toby_, quoth my father, I do believe thee to be as honest a man, and with as good and as upright a heart as ever God created; --nor is it thy fault, if all the children which have been, may, can, shall, will, or ought to be begotten, come with their heads foremost into the world: ----but believe me, dear _Toby_, the accidents which unavoidably waylay them, not only in the article of our begetting 'em----though these, in my opinion, are well worth considering, ----but the dangers and difficulties our children are beset with, after they are got forth into the world, are enow--little need is there to expose them to unnecessary ones in their passage to it. ----Are these dangers, quoth my uncle _Toby_, laying his hand upon my father's knee, and looking up seriously in his face for an answer, ----are these dangers greater now o' days, brother, than in times past? Brother _Toby_, answered my father, if a child was but fairly begot, and born alive, and healthy, and the mother did well after it, --our forefathers never looked farther. ----My uncle _Toby_ instantly withdrew his hand from off my father's knee, reclined his body gently back in his chair, raised his head till he could just see the cornice of the room, and then directing the buccinatory muscles along his cheeks, and the orbicular muscles around his lips to do their duty--he whistled _Lillabullero_.

'What prodigious armies you had in Flanders! - Brother Toby,' quoth my father, 'I do believe thee to be an honest, upright man; nor is it thy fault, if children come with their heads foremost into the world: - but believe me, dear Toby, the dangers our children meet, after they enter the world, are enough - there is no need to expose them to unnecessary dangers in their passage to it.' 'Are these dangers greater nowadays,' asked my uncle seriously, - 'than in times past?' 'Brother Toby,' answered my father, 'if a child was fairly begot, and born healthy, and the mother did well, our forefathers never looked further.' My uncle Toby reclined gently back in his chair, and then directing the buccinatory muscles along his cheeks, and the orbicular muscles around his lips to do their duty - he whistled Lillabullero.

Tristram Shandy

Book 3 - Chapter 6

My dear mother, quoth the novice, coming a little to herself, ----there are two certain words, which I have been told will force any horse, or ass, or mule, to go up a hill whether he will or no; be he never so obstinate or ill-will'd, the moment he hears them utter'd, he obeys. They are words magic! cried the abbess in the utmost horror --No; replied _Margarita_ calmly--but they are words sinful --What are they? quoth the abbess, interrupting her: They are sinful in the first degree, answered _Margarita_, --they are mortal--and if we are ravish'd and die unabsolved of them, we shall both----but you may pronounce them to me, quoth the abbess of _Andoillets_ ----They cannot, my dear mother, said the novice, be pronounced at all; they will make all the blood in one's body fly up into one's face --But you may whisper them in my ear, quoth the abbess. Heaven! hadst thou no guardian angel to delegate to the inn at the bottom of the hill? was there no generous and friendly spirit unemployed----no agent in nature, by some monitory shivering, creeping along the artery which led to his heart, to rouse the muleteer from his banquet? ----no sweet minstrelsy to bring back the fair idea of the abbess and _Margarita_, with their black rosaries! Rouse! rouse! ----but 'tis too late--the horrid words are pronounced this moment---- ----and how to tell them --Ye, who can speak of everything existing, with unpolluted lips, instruct me----guide me----

'My dear mother,' quoth the novice, recovering a little - 'there are two certain words, which I have been told will force any horse or mule to go up a hill whether he will or no; be he never so obstinate, the moment he hears them, he obeys.' 'They are magic words!' cried the abbess in horror. 'No,' replied Margarita calmly, 'but they are sinful in the first degree - a mortal sin - and if we are ravished and die unabsolved, we shall-' 'But you may tell them to me,' interrupted the abbess. 'They cannot, my dear mother, be spoken at all; they will make one's blood fly up into one's face.' 'But you may whisper them in my ear,' quoth the abbess. Heaven! hadst thou no guardian angel to send to the inn at the bottom of the hill? was there no friendly spirit who could rouse the muleteer from his banquet? Rouse him! - but 'tis too late - the horrid words are spoken- - and how to tell them with unpolluted lips - Lord, guide me-

Tristram Shandy

Book 7 - Chapter 24

If my wife will but venture him--brother _Toby_, _Trismegistus_ shall be dress'd and brought down to us, whilst you and I are getting our breakfasts together.------ ----Go, tell _Susannah_, _Obadiah_, to step here. She is run upstairs, answered _Obadiah_, this very instant, sobbing and crying, and wringing her hands as if her heart would break. We shall have a rare month of it, said my father, turning his head from _Obadiah_, and looking wistfully in my uncle _Toby's_ face for some time--we shall have a devilish month of it, brother _Toby_, said my father, setting his arms a-kimbo, and shaking his head; fire, water, women, wind--brother _Toby!_--'Tis some misfortune, quoth my uncle _Toby_. ----That it is, cried my father--to have so many jarring elements breaking loose, and riding triumph in every corner of a gentleman's house --Little boots it to the peace of a family, brother _Toby_, that you and I possess ourselves, and sit here silent and unmoved----whilst such a storm is whistling over our heads.------ And what's the matter, _Susannah?_ They have called the child _Tristram_----and my mistress is just got out of an hysterick fit about it ----No----'tis not my fault, said _Susannah_ --I told him it was _Tristram-gistus_. ----Make tea for yourself, brother _Toby_, said my father, taking down his hat----but how different from the sallies and agitations of voice and members which a common reader would imagine! --For he spake in the sweetest modulation--and took down his hat with the genteelest movement of limbs, that ever affliction harmonized and attuned together. ----Go to the bowling-green for corporal _Trim_, said my uncle _Toby_, speaking to _Obadiah_, as soon as my father left the room.

'If my wife will allow it, brother Toby, Trismegistus shall be dressed and brought down to us, whilst we are getting our breakfasts. Go fetch Susannah, Obadiah.' 'She is run upstairs,' answered Obadiah, 'sobbing and crying as if her heart would break.' 'We shall have a rare month of it,' said my father wistfully, shaking his head: 'We shall have a devilish month, brother Toby; fire, water, women, wind!' ''Tis some misfortune,' quoth my uncle Toby. 'That it is,' cried my father, 'to have so many jarring elements breaking loose in every corner of a gentleman's house. Whilst you and I, brother Toby, possess ourselves, and sit here silent and unmoved, a storm is whistling over our heads. - And what's the matter, Susannah?' 'They have called the child Tristram - and my mistress is just got out of an hysteric fit about it - 'tis not my fault,' said Susannah. 'I told him it was Tristram-gistus.' 'Make tea for yourself, brother Toby,' said my father - but in a manner how different from agitation than a common reader would imagine! For he spake sweetly, and took down his hat with the genteelest movement. 'Go to the bowling-green for corporal Trim,' said my uncle Toby to Obadiah, as soon as my father left the room.

Tristram Shandy

Book 4 - Chapter 16

--And pray, said my uncle _Toby_, leaning upon _Yorick_, as he and my father were helping him leisurely down the stairs----don't be terrified, madam, this stair-case conversation is not so long as the last ----And pray, _Yorick_, said my uncle _Toby_, which way is this said affair of _Tristram_ at length settled by these learned men? Very satisfactorily, replied _Yorick_; no mortal, Sir, has any concern with it----for Mrs. _Shandy_ the mother is nothing at all a-kin to him----and as the mother's is the surest side ----Mr. _Shandy_, in course, is still less than nothing ------In short, he is not as much a-kin to him, Sir, as I am.---- ----That may well be, said my father, shaking his head. ----Let the learned say what they will, there must certainly, quoth my uncle _Toby_, have been some sort of consanguinity betwixt the duchess of _Suffolk_ and her son. The vulgar are of the same opinion, quoth _Yorick_, to this hour.

'And pray,' said my uncle Toby, leaning upon Yorick, as he and my father were helping him down the stairs - don't be terrified, madam, this staircase conversation is not so long as the last - 'And pray, Yorick,' said my uncle, 'which way is this affair of Tristram at length settled by these learned men?' 'Very satisfactorily,' replied Yorick; 'no mortal, Sir, has any concern with it - for Mrs. Shandy the mother is nothing at all a-kin to him - and as the mother's is the surest side, Mr. Shandy is even less than nothing.' 'That may well be,' said my father, shaking his head. 'Let the learned say what they will, there must certainly,' quoth my uncle Toby, 'have been some shared blood betwixt the duchess of Suffolk and her son.' 'The vulgar are of the same opinion,' quoth Yorick, 'to this hour.'

Tristram Shandy

Book 4 - Chapter 30

We shall bring all things to rights, said my father, setting his foot upon the first step from the landing. --This _Trismegistus_, continued my father, drawing his leg back and turning to my uncle _Toby_----was the greatest (_Toby_) of all earthly beings--he was the greatest king----the greatest law-giver----the greatest philosopher----and the greatest priest----and engineer--said my uncle _Toby_. ------In course, said my father.

'We shall bring all things to rights,' said my father, setting his foot upon the first step from the landing. 'This Trismegistus,' he continued, drawing his leg back and turning to my uncle Toby, 'was the greatest king - the greatest law-giver - philosopher - and the greatest priest-' '- and engineer.' said my uncle Toby. 'Of course,' said my father.

Tristram Shandy

Book 4 - Chapter 11

We should begin, said my father, turning himself half round in bed, and shifting his pillow a little towards my mother's, as he opened the debate ----We should begin to think, Mrs. _Shandy_, of putting this boy into breeches.---- We should so, --said my mother. ----We defer it, my dear, quoth my father, shamefully.------ I think we do, Mr. _Shandy_, --said my mother. ----Not but the child looks extremely well, said my father, in his vests and tunicks.------ ------He does look very well in them, --replied my mother.------ ----And for that reason it would be almost a sin, added my father, to take him out of 'em.---- ----It would so, --said my mother: ----But indeed he is growing a very tall lad, --rejoined my father. ----He is very tall for his age, indeed, --said my mother.---- ----I can not (making two syllables of it) imagine, quoth my father, who the deuce he takes after.---- I cannot conceive, for my life, --said my mother.---- Humph! ----said my father. (The dialogue ceased for a moment.) ----I am very short myself, --continued my father gravely. You are very short, Mr. _Shandy_, --said my mother. Humph! quoth my father to himself, a second time: in muttering which, he plucked his pillow a little further from my mother's--and turning about again, there was an end of the debate for three minutes and a half. ----When he gets these breeches made, cried my father in a higher tone, he'll look like a beast in 'em. He will be very awkward in them at first, replied my mother.---- ----And 'twill be lucky, if that's the worst on't, added my father. It will be very lucky, answered my mother. I suppose, replied my father, --making some pause first, --he'll be exactly like other people's children.---- Exactly, said my mother.------ ----Though I shall be sorry for that, added my father: and so the debate stopp'd again. ----They should be of leather, said my father, turning him about again.-- They will last him, said my mother, the longest. But he can have no linings to 'em, replied my father.------ He cannot, said my mother. 'Twere better to have them of fustian, quoth my father. Nothing can be better, quoth my mother.------ --Except dimity, --replied my father: ----'Tis best of all, --replied my mother. ----One must not give him his death, however, --interrupted my father. By no means, said my mother: ----and so the dialogue stood still again. I am resolved, however, quoth my father, breaking silence the fourth time, he shall have no pockets in them.-- ----There is no occasion for any, said my mother.------ I mean in his coat and waistcoat, --cried my father. ----I mean so too, --replied my mother. ----Though if he gets a gig or top ----Poor souls! it is a crown and a sceptre to them, --they should have where to secure it.------ Order it as you please, Mr. _Shandy_, replied my mother.------ ----But don't you think it right? added my father, pressing the point home to her. Perfectly, said my mother, if it pleases you, Mr. _Shandy_.------ ----There's for you! cried my father, losing temper ----Pleases me! ----You never will distinguish, Mrs. _Shandy_, nor shall I ever teach you to do it, betwixt a point of pleasure and a point of convenience. ----This was on the _Sunday_ night: ----and further this chapter sayeth not.

'We should begin,' said my father, turning round in bed, and shifting his pillow towards my mother's, 'We should begin to think, Mrs. Shandy, of putting this boy into breeches.' 'We should so,' said my mother. 'We defer it, my dear, shamefully.' 'I think we do, Mr. Shandy,' said my mother. 'Although the child looks extremely good in his tunics,' said my father. 'He does look very good in them,' replied my mother. 'So that it would be almost a sin,' added my father, 'to take him out of 'em.' 'It would,' said my mother. 'But indeed he is growing very tall,' rejoined my father. 'He is very tall for his age, indeed,' said my mother. 'I can not imagine,' quoth my father, 'who the deuce he takes after.' 'I cannot conceive, for my life,' said my mother. 'Humph!' said my father. (The dialogue ceased for a moment.) 'I am very short myself,' continued my father gravely. 'You are very short, Mr. Shandy,' said my mother. 'Humph!' quoth my father to himself again: and plucked his pillow a little further from my mother's. There was a pause for three minutes and a half. 'When he gets these breeches,' cried my father in a higher tone, 'he'll look like a beast in 'em.' 'He will be very awkward in them at first,' replied my mother. 'And 'twill be lucky if that's the worst of it,' added my father. 'It will be very lucky,' answered my mother. 'I suppose,' replied my father, 'he'll be exactly like other people's children.' 'Exactly,' said my mother. 'Though I shall be sorry for that,' added my father: and the debate stopped again. 'They should be of leather,' said my father, turning around. 'They will last him longer,' said my mother. 'But he can have no linings to 'em,' replied my father. 'He cannot,' said my mother. ''Twere better to have them of fustian,' quoth my father. 'Nothing can be better,' quoth my mother. 'Except dimity,' replied my father. ''Tis best of all,' replied my mother. 'One must not give him his death, however,' said my father. 'By no means,' said my mother: and the dialogue stood still again. 'I am resolved, however,' quoth my father, breaking silence, 'he shall have no pockets in them.' 'There is no need for any,' said my mother. 'I mean in his coat and waistcoat,' cried my father. 'I mean so too,' replied my mother. 'Though if he gets a toy or top - they are like a crown and a sceptre to children - they should have somewhere to keep it.' 'Order it as you please, Mr. Shandy,' replied my mother. 'But don't you think it right?' pressed my father. 'Perfectly,' said my mother, 'if it pleases you, Mr. Shandy.' 'There's for you!' cried my father, losing his temper. 'Pleases me! You never will distinguish, Mrs. Shandy, nor shall I ever teach you to do it, betwixt a point of pleasure and a point of convenience.' This was on the Sunday night: and further this chapter sayeth not.

Tristram Shandy

Book 6 - Chapter 18

If it had not been for those two mettlesome tits, and that madcap of a postillion who drove them from Stilton to Stamford, the thought had never entered my head. He flew like lightning----there was a slope of three miles and a half----we scarce touched the ground----the motion was most rapid----most impetuous------'twas communicated to my brain--my heart partook of it---- "By the great God of day," said I, looking towards the sun, and thrusting my arm out of the fore-window of the chaise, as I made my vow, "I will lock up my study-door the moment I get home, and throw the key of it ninety feet below the surface of the earth, into the draw-well at the back of my house." The London waggon confirmed me in my resolution; it hung tottering upon the hill, scarce progressive, drag'd--drag'd up by eight _heavy beasts_-- "by main strength! ----quoth I, nodding----but your betters draw the same way----and something of everybody's! ----O rare!" Tell me, ye learned, shall we for ever be adding so much to the _bulk_--so little to the _stock?_ Shall we for ever make new books, as apothecaries make new mixtures, by pouring only out of one vessel into another? Are we for ever to be twisting, and untwisting the same rope? for ever in the same track--for ever at the same pace? Shall we be destined to the days of eternity, on holy-days, as well as working-days, to be shewing the _relicks of learning_, as monks do the relicks of their saints--without working one--one single miracle with them? Who made Man, with powers which dart him from earth to heaven in a moment--that great, that most excellent, and most noble creature of the world--the _miracle_ of nature, as Zoroaster in his book called him--the SHEKINAH of the divine presence, as Chrysostom----the _image_ of God, as Moses----the _ray_ of divinity, as Plato--the _marvel_ of _marvels_, as Aristotle--to go sneaking on at this pitiful--pimping--pettifogging rate? I scorn to be as abusive as Horace upon the occasion------but if there is no catachresis in the wish, and no sin in it, I wish from my soul, that every imitator in _Great Britain_, _France_, and _Ireland_, had the farcy for his pains; and that there was a good farcical house, large enough to hold--aye--and sublimate them, _shag rag and bob-tail_, male and female, all together: and this leads me to the affair of _Whiskers_----but, by what chain of ideas --I leave as a legacy in _mort-main_ to Prudes and Tartufs, to enjoy and make the most of. UPON WHISKERS I'm sorry I made it----'twas as inconsiderate a promise as ever entered a man's head ----A chapter upon whiskers! alas! the world will not bear it--'tis a delicate world----but I knew not of what mettle it was made--nor had I ever seen the underwritten fragment; otherwise, as surely as noses are noses, and whiskers are whiskers still (let the world say what it will to the contrary); so surely would I have steered clear of this dangerous chapter. THE FRAGMENT * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * ------You are half asleep, my good lady, said the old gentleman, taking hold of the old lady's hand, and giving it a gentle squeeze, as he pronounced the word _Whiskers_----shall we change the subject? By no means, replied the old lady --I like your account of those matters; so throwing a thin gauze handkerchief over her head, and leaning it back upon the chair with her face turned towards him, and advancing her two feet as she reclined herself ----I desire, continued she, you will go on. The old gentleman went on as follows: ------Whiskers! cried the queen of _Navarre_, dropping her knotting ball, as _La Fosseuse_ uttered the word ----Whiskers, madam, said _La Fosseuse_, pinning the ball to the queen's apron, and making a courtesy as she repeated it. _La Fosseuse's_ voice was naturally soft and low, yet 'twas an articulate voice: and every letter of the word _Whiskers_ fell distinctly upon the queen of _Navarre's_ ear --Whiskers! cried the queen, laying a greater stress upon the word, and as if she had still distrusted her ears ----Whiskers! replied _La Fosseuse_, repeating the word a third time ----There is not a cavalier, madam, of his age in _Navarre_, continued the maid of honour, pressing the page's interest upon the queen, that has so gallant a pair ----Of what? cried _Margaret_, smiling --Of whiskers, said _La Fosseuse_, with infinite modesty. The word _Whiskers_ still stood its ground, and continued to be made use of in most of the best companies throughout the little kingdom of _Navarre_, notwithstanding the indiscreet use which _La Fosseuse_ had made of it: the truth was, _La Fosseuse_ had pronounced the word, not only before the queen, but upon sundry other occasions at court, with an accent which always implied something of a mystery --And as the court of _Margaret_, as all the world knows, was at that time a mixture of gallantry and devotion----and whiskers being as applicable to the one, as the other, the word naturally stood its ground----it gain'd full as much as it lost; that is, the clergy were for it----the laity were against it----and for the women, ----_they_ were divided. The excellency of the figure and mien of the young Sieur _De Croix_, was at that time beginning to draw the attention of the maids of honour towards the terrace before the palace gate, where the guard was mounted. The lady _De Baussiere_ fell deeply in love with him, ----_La Battarelle_ did the same--it was the finest weather for it, that ever was remembered in _Navarre_----_La Guyol_, _La Maronette_, _La Sabatiere_, fell in love with the Sieur _De Croix_ also----_La Rebours_ and _La Fosseuse_ knew better----_De Croix_ had failed in an attempt to recommend himself to _La Rebours_; and _La Rebours_ and _La Fosseuse_ were inseparable. The queen of _Navarre_ was sitting with her ladies in the painted bow-window, facing the gate of the second court, as _De Croix_ passed through it --He is handsome, said the Lady _Baussiere_. ----He has a good mien, said _La Battarelle_ ----He is finely shaped, said _La Guyol_ --I never saw an officer of the horse-guards in my life, said _La Maronette_, with two such legs ----Or who stood so well upon them, said _La Sabatiere_ ------But he has no whiskers, cried _La Fosseuse_ ----Not a pile, said _La Rebours_. The queen went directly to her oratory, musing all the way, as she walked through the gallery, upon the subject; turning it this way and that way in her fancy--_Ave Maria!_------what can _La Fosseuse_ mean? said she, kneeling down upon the cushion. _La Guyol_, _La Battarelle_, _La Maronette_, _La Sabatiere_, retired instantly to their chambers ------Whiskers! said all four of them to themselves, as they bolted their doors on the inside. The Lady _Carnavallette_ was counting her beads with both hands, unsuspected, under her farthingal----from St. _Antony_ down to St. _Ursula_ inclusive, not a saint passed through her fingers without whiskers; St. _Francis_, St. _Dominick_, St. _Bennet_, St. _Basil_, St. _Bridget_, had all whiskers. The Lady _Baussiere_ had got into a wilderness of conceits, with moralizing too intricately upon _La Fosseuse's_ text ----She mounted her palfrey, her page followed her----the host passed by--the Lady _Baussiere_ rode on. One denier, cried the order of mercy--one single denier, in behalf of a thousand patient captives, whose eyes look towards heaven and you for their redemption. ----The Lady _Baussiere_ rode on. Pity the unhappy, said a devout, venerable, hoary-headed man, meekly holding up a box, begirt with iron, in his withered hands ----I beg for the unfortunate--good my Lady, 'tis for a prison--for an hospital--'tis for an old man--a poor man undone by shipwreck, by suretyship, by fire ----I call God and all his angels to witness----'tis to clothe the naked----to feed the hungry----'tis to comfort the sick and the broken-hearted. The Lady _Baussiere_ rode on. A decayed kinsman bowed himself to the ground. ----The Lady _Baussiere_ rode on. He ran begging bare-headed on one side of her palfrey, conjuring her by the former bonds of friendship, alliance, consanguinity, etc. ----Cousin, aunt, sister, mother, ----for virtue's sake, for your own, for mine, for Christ's sake, remember me----pity me. ----The Lady _Baussiere_ rode on. Take hold of my whiskers, said the Lady _Baussiere_ ----The page took hold of her palfrey. She dismounted at the end of the terrace. There are some trains of certain ideas which leave prints of themselves about our eyes and eye-brows; and there is a consciousness of it, somewhere about the heart, which serves but to make these etchings the stronger--we see, spell, and put them together without a dictionary. Ha, ha! he, hee! cried _La Guyol_ and _La Sabatiere_, looking close at each other's prints ----Ho, ho! cried _La Battarelle_ and _Maronette_, doing the same: --Whist! cried one--st, st, --said a second--hush, quoth a third--poo, poo, replied a fourth--gramercy! cried the Lady _Carnavallette_; ----'twas she who bewhisker'd St. _Bridget_. _La Fosseuse_ drew her bodkin from the knot of her hair, and having traced the outline of a small whisker, with the blunt end of it, upon one side of her upper lip, put it into _La Rebours'_ hand--_La Rebours_ shook her head. The Lady _Baussiere_ coughed thrice into the inside of her muff--_La Guyol_ smiled --Fy, said the Lady _Baussiere_. The queen of _Navarre_ touched her eye with the tip of her fore-finger--as much as to say, I understand you all. 'Twas plain to the whole court the word was ruined: _La Fosseuse_ had given it a wound, and it was not the better for passing through all these defiles ----It made a faint stand, however, for a few months, by the expiration of which, the Sieur _De Croix_, finding it high time to leave _Navarre_ for want of whiskers----the word in course became indecent, and (after a few efforts) absolutely unfit for use. The best word, in the best language of the best world, must have suffered under such combinations. ------The curate of _d'Estella_ wrote a book against them, setting forth the dangers of accessory ideas, and warning the _Navarois_ against them. Does not all the world know, said the curate _d'Estella_ at the conclusion of his work, that Noses ran the same fate some centuries ago in most parts of _Europe_, which Whiskers have now done in the kingdom of _Navarre?_ --The evil indeed spread no farther then--but have not beds and bolsters, and nightcaps and chamber-pots stood upon the brink of destruction ever since? Are not trouse, and placket-holes, and pump-handles--and spigots and faucets, in danger still from the same association? ----Chastity, by nature, the gentlest of all affections--give it but its head----'tis like a ramping and a roaring lion. The drift of the curate _d'Estella's_ argument was not understood. --They ran the scent the wrong way. --The world bridled his ass at the tail. --And when the _extremes_ of DELICACY, and the _beginnings_ of CONCUPISCENCE, hold their next provincial chapter together, they may decree that bawdy also.

If it had not been for those two mettlesome horses, and that madcap of a postillion who drove them from Stilton to Stamford, the thought would have never entered my head. He flew like lightning - we scarce touched the ground - the impetuous motion was communicated to my brain - and my heart. 'By the great God of day,' said I, looking towards the sun, and thrusting my arm out of the carriage window, 'I will lock up my study-door the moment I get home, and throw its key down the well.' The London waggon confirmed me in my resolution; it hung tottering upon the hill, scarce progressing, dragged up by eight heavy beasts - 'by main strength!' quoth I, nodding - 'but your betters drag the same way!' Tell me, shall we for ever be adding so much to the bulk - and so little to the stock of learning? Shall we for ever make new books, as apothecaries make new mixtures, by pouring out of one vessel into another? Are we for ever to be twisting, and untwisting the same rope? Shall we be eternally showing the relics of learning, as monks do the relics of their saints - without working one single miracle with them? Who made Man - that most excellent and noble creature of the world - the miracle of nature, as Zoroaster called him - the image of God, as said Moses - the ray of divinity, as said Plato - the marvel of marvels, as said Aristotle - to go sneaking on at this pitiful, pettifogging rate? I wish that every imitator caught the farcy, or glanders, for his pains; and that there was a good farcical house, large enough to hold 'em, shag rag and bob-tail, male and female, all together: and this leads me to the affair of Whiskers. UPON WHISKERS I'm sorry I made it - 'twas as inconsiderate a promise as ever entered a man's head. A chapter upon whiskers! alas! the world will not bear it - 'tis a delicate world - and if I had seen the fragment below, as surely as noses are noses, and whiskers are whiskers, I would have steered clear of this dangerous chapter. THE FRAGMENT * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * - 'You are half asleep, my good lady,' said the old gentleman. Taking the old lady's hand, and giving it a gentle squeeze, he pronounced the word, 'Whiskers. - shall we change the subject?' 'By no means,' replied the old lady. 'I like your account of those matters.' Throwing a gauze handkerchief over her head, and leaning back in the chair, she continued, 'Please go on.' The old gentleman went on as follows: 'Whiskers!' cried the queen of Navarre, dropping her knotting ball, as La Fosseuse uttered the word. 'Whiskers, madam,' said La Fosseuse, making a curtsey. The maid of honour's voice was soft and low, yet every letter of the word Whiskers fell distinctly upon the queen's ear. 'Whiskers!' cried Queen Margaret again. 'Whiskers!' replied La Fosseuse. 'There is not a cavalier, madam, in Navarre, that has so gallant a pair-' 'Of what?' cried the queen, smiling. 'Of whiskers,' said La Fosseuse, with infinite modesty. The word Whiskers was used in the best company throughout the little kingdom of Navarre, notwithstanding La Fosseuse's indiscreet use of it: the truth was, she had said the word, not only before the queen, but on other occasions at court, with an accent which always implied a mystery. And as the court of Margaret was a mixture of gallantry and devotion, the word stood its ground. The clergy were for it - the laity were against it - and as for the women, they were divided. The excellent figure and bearing of the young Seignior De Croix was at that time beginning to draw the attention of the maids of honour. The lady De Baussiere fell deeply in love with him; La Battarelle did the same. La Guyol, La Maronette and La Sabatiere fell in love with him also - La Rebours and La Fosseuse knew better. The queen of Navarre was sitting with her ladies in the bow-window, facing the gate, as De Croix passed through it. 'He is handsome,' said the Lady Baussiere. 'He is finely shaped,' said La Guyol.' 'I never saw an officer with two such legs,' said La Maronette. -'But he has no whiskers,' cried La Fosseuse. The queen went to her oratory, musing upon the subject; 'Ave Maria! - what can La Fosseuse mean?' said she, kneeling to pray. La Guyol, La Battarelle, La Maronette and La Sabatiere retired instantly to their chambers. 'Whiskers!' said all four to themselves. The Lady Carnavallette was telling her rosary: from St. Antony down to St. Ursula, not a saint passed through her fingers without whiskers. The Lady Baussiere had got into a wilderness of speculations upon La Fosseuse's words. She mounted her palfrey, her page following, and rode on. 'One penny,' cried a suppliant of the Order of Mercy, 'one single penny, on behalf of a thousand patient captives.' The Lady Baussiere rode on. 'Pity the unfortunate,' said a devout old man meekly holding up a box in his withered hands. ''tis for a prison - for an hospital - 'tis for an old man - a poor man undone by shipwreck, by fire - 'tis to feed the hungry - to comfort the sick.' The Lady Baussiere rode on. An ancient kinsman bowed low. The Lady Baussiere rode on. He ran alongside her palfrey, begging: 'Cousin, aunt, sister, mother, for Christ's sake, remember me - pity me.' The Lady Baussiere rode on. 'Take hold of my whiskers,' said the Lady Baussiere. The page took hold of her palfrey, and she dismounted. There are certain ideas which leave prints of themselves about our eyes; and a consciousness somewhere about the heart makes these etchings all the stronger - we spell them out without a dictionary. 'Ha, ha! he, hee!' cried La Guyol and La Sabatiere, looking at each other's eyes. 'Ho, ho!' cried La Battarelle and Maronette, doing the same. La Fosseuse drew her hairpin from her hair, and traced the outline of a small whisker with the blunt end of it upon her upper lip. The Lady Baussiere coughed thrice. - La Guyol smiled. 'Fie,' said the Lady Baussiere. The queen of Navarre touched her eye with the tip of her finger - as if to say, I understand you all. 'Twas plain to the whole court that the word was ruined. It made a faint stand, however, for a few months, by the end of which, the Seignior De Croix found it high time to leave Navarre for want of whiskers; and the word became indecent, and absolutely unfit for use. The best word in the world must have suffered under such conditions. The curate of d'Estella wrote a book on this, setting forth the dangers of accessory ideas. 'Does not all the world know,' said the curate, 'that Noses suffered the same fate centuries ago, which Whiskers have now done? Have not beds, bolsters, nightcaps and chamber-pots stood upon the brink of destruction ever since? Are not trousers and placket-holes and pump-handles in danger still from the same association? Chastity is the gentlest of all affections - but if you give it its head, 'tis like a ramping lion.' The drift of the curate's argument was not understood. The world went the wrong way, and bridled his ass at the tail. And when Delicacy and Lust next meet together, they may decree that bawdy also.

Tristram Shandy

Book 5 - Chapter 1

When I reflect, brother _Toby_, upon MAN; and take a view of that dark side of him which represents his life as open to so many causes of trouble--when I consider, brother _Toby_, how oft we eat the bread of affliction, and that we are born to it, as to the portion of our inheritance ------I was born to nothing, quoth my uncle _Toby_, interrupting my father--but my commission. Zooks! said my father, did not my uncle leave you a hundred and twenty pounds a year? ------What could I have done without it? replied my uncle _Toby_ ------That's another concern, said my father testily --But I say, _Toby_, when one runs over the catalogue of all the cross-reckonings and sorrowful _Items_ with which the heart of man is overcharged, 'tis wonderful by what hidden resources the mind is enabled to stand out, and bear itself up, as it does, against the impositions laid upon our nature. ------'Tis by the assistance of Almighty God, cried my uncle _Toby_, looking up, and pressing the palms of his hands close together----'tis not from our own strength, brother _Shandy_----a centinel in a wooden centry-box might as well pretend to stand it out against a detachment of fifty men. ----We are upheld by the grace and the assistance of the best of Beings. ----That is cutting the knot, said my father, instead of untying it. ----But give me leave to lead you, brother _Toby_, a little deeper into the mystery. With all my heart, replied my uncle _Toby_. My father instantly exchanged the attitude he was in, for that in which _Socrates_ is so finely painted by _Raffael_ in his school of _Athens_; which your connoisseurship knows is so exquisitely imagined, that even the particular manner of the reasoning of _Socrates_ is expressed by it--for he holds the forefinger of his left hand between the forefinger and the thumb of his right, and seems as if he was saying to the libertine he is reclaiming------ "_You grant me_ this----and this: and this, and this, I don't ask of you--they follow of themselves in course." So stood my father, holding fast his forefinger betwixt his finger and his thumb, and reasoning with my uncle _Toby_ as he sat in his old fringed chair, valanced around with party-coloured worsted bobs ----O _Garrick!_--what a rich scene of this would thy exquisite powers make! and how gladly would I write such another to avail myself of thy immortality, and secure my own behind it.

'When I reflect, brother Toby, upon Man, and the many troubles he is open to - when I consider how oft we eat the bread of affliction, and that we are born to it, as to our inheritance-' 'I was born to nothing,' quoth my uncle, interrupting, 'but my commission.' 'Zooks!' said my father; 'did not my uncle leave you a hundred and twenty pounds a year?' 'What could I have done without it?' replied my uncle Toby. 'That's another matter,' said my father testily. 'But I say, Toby, when one runs over the catalogue of all the sorrows with which the heart of man is overcharged, 'tis wonderful how the mind can bear itself up, as it does.' ''Tis by the assistance of Almighty God,' cried my uncle Toby. ''Tis not from our own strength, brother Shandy - a sentinel might as well pretend to stand against fifty men. We are upheld by the grace of the best of Beings.' 'That is cutting the knot,' said my father, 'instead of untying it. But allow me to lead you, brother, a little deeper into the mystery.' 'With all my heart,' replied my uncle. My father instantly took up the attitude in which Socrates is so finely painted by Raphael; which your connoisseurship knows is so exquisitely imagined, that even the particular manner of the reasoning of Socrates is expressed by it - for he holds the forefinger of his left hand between the forefinger and the thumb of his right. So stood my father, holding his forefinger betwixt his finger and his thumb, and reasoning with my uncle Toby in his old fringed chair with woollen bobs - O Garrick! what a rich scene wouldst thou make of this! and how gladly would I write such another to secure my immortality.

Tristram Shandy

Book 4 - Chapter 7

As _Tom's_ place, an' please your honour, was easy--and the weather warm--it put him upon thinking seriously of settling himself in the world; and as it fell out about that time, that a _Jew_ who kept a sausage shop in the same street, had the ill luck to die of a strangury, and leave his widow in possession of a rousing trade----_Tom_ thought (as everybody in _Lisbon_ was doing the best he could devise for himself) there could be no harm in offering her his service to carry it on: so without any introduction to the widow, except that of buying a pound of sausages at her shop--_Tom_ set out--counting the matter thus within himself, as he walk'd along; that let the worst come of it that could, he should at least get a pound of sausages for their worth--but, if things went well, he should be set up; inasmuch as he should get not only a pound of sausages--but a wife and--a sausage shop, an' please your honour, into the bargain. Every servant in the family, from high to low, wish'd _Tom_ success; and I can fancy, an' please your honour, I see him this moment with his white dimity waistcoat and breeches, and hat a little o' one side, passing jollily along the street, swinging his stick, with a smile and a chearful word for everybody he met: ----But alas! _Tom!_ thou smilest no more, cried the corporal, looking on one side of him upon the ground, as if he apostrophised him in his dungeon. Poor fellow! said my uncle _Toby_, feelingly. He was an honest, light-hearted lad, an' please your honour, as ever blood warm'd---- ----Then he resembled thee, _Trim_, said my uncle _Toby_, rapidly. The corporal blush'd down to his fingers ends--a tear of sentimental bashfulness--another of gratitude to my uncle _Toby_--and a tear of sorrow for his brother's misfortunes, started into his eye, and ran sweetly down his cheek together; my uncle _Toby's_ kindled as one lamp does at another; and taking hold of the breast of _Trim's_ coat (which had been that of _Le Fever's_) as if to ease his lame leg, but in reality to gratify a finer feeling----he stood silent for a minute and a half; at the end of which he took his hand away, and the corporal making a bow, went on with his story of his brother and the _Jew's_ widow.

'When Tom began, your honour, to think of settling himself in the world, it happened about that time, that a Jew who kept a sausage shop in the same street, had the ill luck to die, and leave his widow in possession of a roaring trade. - Tom thought there could be no harm in offering her his service to carry it on. 'So without any introduction to the widow, except that of buying a pound of sausages at her shop, Tom set out - reckoning that at the worst, he should at least get a pound of sausages; but, if things went well, he should be set up - getting not only a pound of sausages, but a wife and a sausage shop into the bargain. 'I fancy, your honour, I see him this moment with his white dimity waistcoat and breeches, and hat o' one side, passing jollily along the street, swinging his stick, with a smile and a cheerful word for everybody he met. - But alas! Tom! thou smilest no more,' cried the corporal. 'Poor fellow!' said my uncle Toby feelingly. 'He was an honest, light-hearted lad, your honour-' 'Then he resembled thee, Trim,' said my uncle Toby. The corporal blushed down to his fingers' ends - a tear of gratitude and sorrow started into his eye, and ran sweetly down his cheek; my uncle Toby's tears kindled as one lamp does at another; and taking hold of Trim's coat, as if to ease his lame leg, he stood silent for a minute. Then he took his hand away, and the corporal, making a bow, went on with the story of his brother and the Jew's widow.

Tristram Shandy

Book 9 - Chapter 5

----I wonder what's all that noise, and running backwards and forwards for, above stairs, quoth my father, addressing himself, after an hour and a half's silence, to my uncle _Toby_, ----who, you must know, was sitting on the opposite side of the fire, smoking his social pipe all the time, in mute contemplation of a new pair of black plush-breeches which he had got on: --What can they be doing, brother? --quoth my father, --we can scarce hear ourselves talk. I think, replied my uncle _Toby_, taking his pipe from his mouth, and striking the head of it two or three times upon the nail of his left thumb, as he began his sentence, ----I think, says he: ----But to enter rightly into my uncle _Toby's_ sentiments upon this matter, you must be made to enter first a little into his character, the outlines of which I shall just give you, and then the dialogue between him and my father will go on as well again. Pray what was that man's name, --for I write in such a hurry, I have no time to recollect or look for it, ----who first made the observation, "That there was great inconstancy in our air and climate?" Whoever he was, 'twas a just and good observation in him. --But the corollary drawn from it, namely, "That it is this which has furnished us with such a variety of odd and whimsical characters;" --that was not his; --it was found out by another man, at least a century and a half after him: Then again, --that this copious store-house of original materials, is the true and natural cause that our Comedies are so much better than those of _France_, or any others that either have, or can be wrote upon the Continent: ----that discovery was not fully made till about the middle of King _William's_ reign, --when the great _Dryden_, in writing one of his long prefaces, (if I mistake not) most fortunately hit upon it. Indeed toward the latter end of Queen _Anne_, the great _Addison_ began to patronize the notion, and more fully explained it to the world in one or two of his Spectators; --but the discovery was not his. --Then, fourthly and lastly, that this strange irregularity in our climate, producing so strange an irregularity in our characters, ----doth thereby, in some sort, make us amends, by giving us somewhat to make us merry with when the weather will not suffer us to go out of doors, --that observation is my own; --and was struck out by me this very rainy day, _March_ 26, 1759, and betwixt the hours of nine and ten in the morning. Thus--thus, my fellow-labourers and associates in this great harvest of our learning, now ripening before our eyes; thus it is, by slow steps of casual increase, that our knowledge physical, metaphysical, physiological, polemical, nautical, mathematical, nigmatical, technical, biographical, romantical, chemical, and obstetrical, with fifty other branches of it, (most of 'em ending as these do, in _ical_) have for these two last centuries and more, gradually been creeping upwards towards that of their perfections, from which, if we may form a conjecture from the advances of these last seven years, we cannot possibly be far off. When that happens, it is to be hoped, it will put an end to all kind of writings whatsoever; --the want of all kind of writing will put an end to all kind of reading; --and that in time, _As war begets poverty; poverty peace_, ----must, in course, put an end to all kind of knowledge, --and then----we shall have all to begin over again; or, in other words, be exactly where we started. ------Happy! thrice happy times! I only wish that the ra of my begetting, as well as the mode and manner of it, had been a little alter'd, ----or that it could have been put off, with any convenience to my father or mother, for some twenty or five-and-twenty years longer, when a man in the literary world might have stood some chance.---- But I forget my uncle _Toby_, whom all this while we have left knocking the ashes out of his tobacco-pipe. His humour was of that particular species, which does honour to our atmosphere; and I should have made no scruple of ranking him amongst one of the first-rate productions of it, had not there appeared too many strong lines in it of a family-likeness, which shewed that he derived the singularity of his temper more from blood, than either wind or water, or any modifications or combinations of them whatever: And I have, therefore, oft-times wondered, that my father, tho' I believe he had his reasons for it, upon his observing some tokens of eccentricity, in my course, when I was a boy, --should never once endeavour to account for them in this way: for all the SHANDY FAMILY were of an original character throughout: ----I mean the males, --the females had no character at all, --except, indeed, my great aunt DINAH, who, about sixty years ago, was married and got with child by the coachman, for which my father, according to his hypothesis of christian names, would often say, She might thank her godfathers and godmothers. It will seem very strange, ----and I would as soon think of dropping a riddle in the reader's way, which is not my interest to do, as set him upon guessing how it could come to pass, that an event of this kind, so many years after it had happened, should be reserved for the interruption of the peace and unity, which otherwise so cordially subsisted, between my father and my uncle _Toby_. One would have thought, that the whole force of the misfortune should have spent and wasted itself in the family at first, --as is generally the case. --But nothing ever wrought with our family after the ordinary way. Possibly at the very time this happened, it might have something else to afflict it; and as afflictions are sent down for our good, and that as this had never done the SHANDY FAMILY any good at all, it might lie waiting till apt times and circumstances should give it an opportunity to discharge its office. ----Observe, I determine nothing upon this. ----My way is ever to point out to the curious, different tracts of investigation, to come at the first springs of the events I tell; --not with a pedantic _Fescue_, --or in the decisive manner of _Tacitus_, who outwits himself and his reader; --but with the officious humility of a heart devoted to the assistance merely of the inquisitive; --to them I write, ----and by them I shall be read, ----if any such reading as this could be supposed to hold out so long, --to the very end of the world. Why this cause of sorrow, therefore, was thus reserved for my father and uncle, is undetermined by me. But how and in what direction it exerted itself so as to become the cause of dissatisfaction between them, after it began to operate, is what I am able to explain with great exactness, and is as follows: My uncle TOBY SHANDY, Madam, was a gentleman, who, with the virtues which usually constitute the character of a man of honour and rectitude, ----possessed one in a very eminent degree, which is seldom or never put into the catalogue; and that was a most extreme and unparallel'd modesty of nature; ----though I correct the word nature, for this reason, that I may not prejudge a point which must shortly come to a hearing, and that is, Whether this modesty of his was natural or acquir'd. ----Whichever way my uncle _Toby_ came by it, 'twas nevertheless modesty in the truest sense of it; and that is, Madam, not in regard to words, for he was so unhappy as to have very little choice in them, --but to things; ----and this kind of modesty so possessed him, and it arose to such a height in him, as almost to equal, if such a thing could be, even the modesty of a woman: That female nicety, Madam, and inward cleanliness of mind and fancy, in your sex, which makes you so much the awe of ours. You will imagine, Madam, that my uncle _Toby_ had contracted all this from this very source; --that he had spent a great part of his time in converse with your sex; and that from a thorough knowledge of you, and the force of imitation which such fair examples render irresistible, he had acquired this amiable turn of mind. I wish I could say so, --for unless it was with his sister-in-law, my father's wife and my mother----my uncle _Toby_ scarce exchanged three words with the sex in as many years; --no, he got it, Madam, by a blow. ----A blow! --Yes, Madam, it was owing to a blow from a stone, broke off by a ball from the parapet of a horn-work at the siege of _Namur_, which struck full upon my uncle _Toby's_ groin. --Which way could that effect it? The story of that, Madam, is long and interesting; --but it would be running my history all upon heaps to give it you here. ----'Tis for an episode hereafter; and every circumstance relating to it, in its proper place, shall be faithfully laid before you: --'Till then, it is not in my power to give farther light into this matter, or say more than what I have said already, ----That my uncle _Toby_ was a gentleman of unparallel'd modesty, which happening to be somewhat subtilized and rarified by the constant heat of a little family pride, ----they both so wrought together within him, that he could never bear to hear the affair of my aunt DINAH touch'd upon, but with the greatest emotion. ----The least hint of it was enough to make the blood fly into his face; --but when my father enlarged upon the story in mixed companies, which the illustration of his hypothesis frequently obliged him to do, --the unfortunate blight of one of the fairest branches of the family, would set my uncle _Toby's_ honour and modesty o'bleeding; and he would often take my father aside, in the greatest concern imaginable, to expostulate and tell him, he would give him anything in the world, only to let the story rest. My father, I believe, had the truest love and tenderness for my uncle _Toby_, that ever one brother bore towards another, and would have done any thing in nature, which one brother in reason could have desir'd of another, to have made my uncle _Toby's_ heart easy in this, or any other point. But this lay out of his power. ----My father, as I told you, was a philosopher in grain, --speculative, --systematical; --and my aunt _Dinah's_ affair was a matter of as much consequence to him, as the retrogradation of the planets to _Copernicus_: --The backslidings of _Venus_ in her orbit fortified the _Copernican_ system, called so after his name; and the backslidings of my aunt _Dinah_ in her orbit, did the same service in establishing my father's system, which, I trust, will for ever hereafter be called the _Shandean System_, after this. In any other family dishonour, my father, I believe, had as nice a sense of shame as any man whatever; ----and neither he, nor, I dare say, _Copernicus_, would have divulged the affair in either case, or have taken the least notice of it to the world, but for the obligations they owed, as they thought, to truth. --_Amicus Plato_, my father would say, construing the words to my uncle _Toby_, as he went along, _Amicus Plato_; that is, DINAH was my aunt; --_sed magis amica veritas_----but TRUTH is my sister. This contrariety of humours betwixt my father and my uncle, was the source of many a fraternal squabble. The one could not bear to hear the tale of family disgrace recorded, ----and the other would scarce ever let a day pass to an end without some hint at it. For God's sake, my uncle _Toby_ would cry, ----and for my sake, and for all our sakes, my dear brother _Shandy_, --do let this story of our aunt's and her ashes sleep in peace; ----how can you, ----how can you have so little feeling and compassion for the character of our family? ----What is the character of a family to an hypothesis? my father would reply. ----Nay, if you come to that--what is the life of a family? ----The life of a family! --my uncle _Toby_ would say, throwing himself back in his arm chair, and lifting up his hands, his eyes, and one leg. ----Yes, the life, ----my father would say, maintaining his point. How many thousands of 'em are there every year that come cast away, (in all civilized countries at least)----and considered as nothing but common air, in competition of an hypothesis. In my plain sense of things, my uncle _Toby_ would answer, ----every such instance is downright MURDER, let who will commit it. ----There lies your mistake, my father would reply; ----for, in _Foro Scienti_ there is no such thing as MURDER, ----'tis only DEATH, brother. My uncle _Toby_ would never offer to answer this by any other kind of argument, than that of whistling half a dozen bars of _Lillabullero_. ----You must know it was the usual channel thro' which his passions got vent, when any thing shocked or surprized him: ----but especially when any thing, which he deem'd very absurd, was offered. As not one of our logical writers, nor any of the commentators upon them, that I remember, have thought proper to give a name to this particular species of argument, --I here take the liberty to do it myself, for two reasons. First, That, in order to prevent all confusion in disputes, it may stand as much distinguished for ever, from every other species of argument------as the _Argumentum ad Verecundiam_, _ex Absurdo, ex Fortiori_, or any other argument whatsoever: ----And, secondly, That it may be said by my children's children, when my head is laid to rest, ----that their learn'd grandfather's head had been busied to as much purpose once, as other people's; --That he had invented a name, --and generously thrown it into the TREASURY of the _Ars Logica_, for one of the most unanswerable arguments in the whole science. And, if the end of disputation is more to silence than convince, --they may add, if they please, to one of the best arguments too. I do therefore, by these presents, strictly order and command, That it be known and distinguished by the name and title of the _Argumentum Fistulatorium_, and no other; --and that it rank hereafter with the _Argumentum Baculinum_ and the _Argumentum ad Crumenam_, and for ever hereafter be treated of in the same chapter. As for the _Argumentum Tripodium_, which is never used but by the woman against the man; --and the _Argumentum ad Rem_, which, contrarywise, is made use of by the man only against the woman; --As these two are enough in conscience for one lecture; ----and, moreover, as the one is the best answer to the other, --let them likewise be kept apart, and be treated of in a place by themselves.

'I wonder what's all that noise, and running backwards and forwards for, upstairs,' said my father, after an hour and a half's silence, to my uncle Toby, who was sitting on the opposite side of the fire, smoking his pipe in mute contemplation of his new pair of black plush breeches. 'What can they be doing, brother?' said my father. 'We can scarce hear ourselves talk.' 'I think,' replied my uncle Toby, taking his pipe from his mouth, 'I think,' says he: - But to enter into my uncle Toby's sentiments upon this matter, you must enter first a little into his character, the outlines of which I shall just give you, and then the dialogue between him and my father will go on again. Pray who was that man - for I write in such a hurry, I have no time to look it up - who first observed 'That there was great inconstancy in our air and climate?' Whoever he was, 'twas a good observation. Someone I forget, a century later observed, 'It is this which has given us such a variety of odd and whimsical characters.' This copious store-house of original materials is the cause why our Comedies are so much better than those of France: that discovery was not made till about the middle of King William's reign, when the great Dryden, in writing one of his long prefaces, (if I mistake not) most fortunately hit upon it. Then, toward the latter end of Queen Anne, the great Addison took up the notion, and fully explained it to the world in the Spectator. This strange irregularity in our climate, producing so strange an irregularity in our characters, gives us something to make merry with when the weather will not allow us to go out of doors. - That observation is my own; and was created by me this very rainy day, March 26, 1759, between nine and ten in the morning. Thus, my fellow-labourers in this great harvest of our learning, now ripening before our eyes; thus it is, by slow steps, that our knowledge physical, metaphysical, physiological, polemical, nautical, mathematical, technical, biographical, romantical, chemical, and obstetrical, with fifty other branches (most ending in -ical) have for these two last centuries been creeping up towards that Acme of perfection, from which we cannot be far off. When that perfection is reached, it will put an end to all writing; the lack of writing will put an end to all reading; - and in time, as war begets poverty; poverty peace, - that must, in due course, put an end to all knowledge - and we shall have to begin again, exactly where we started. Happy! thrice happy times! I only wish that the time of my begetting, as well as the manner of it, had been a little altered, - or that it could have been put off, without any inconvenience to my father or mother, for another five-and-twenty years, when a man in the literary world might have stood some chance. But I forget my uncle Toby, whom all this while we have left knocking the ashes from his pipe. His character was of the type which does honour to our atmosphere; and I should have ranked him amongst the first-rate productions of it, had not there appeared such a strong family-likeness, which showed that he derived his unusual nature more from blood, than from water or weather. And I have often wondered that my father, when he observed signs of eccentricity in me when I was a boy, should never have tried to account for them in this way: for all the Shandy family were of an original character: - I mean the males, the females had no character at all - except, indeed, my great aunt Dinah, who, about sixty years ago, was married and got with child by the coachman, for which my father, according to his hypothesis of names, would often say, 'She might thank her christening.' It will seem very strange to the reader, that this event, so many years after it happened, should interrupt the cordial peace and unity between my father and my uncle Toby. But nothing ever affected our family in the ordinary way. Perhaps at the time the event happened, our family had something else to afflict it; and it lay waiting for an opportunity to do its work. - I do not say this for a fact: I merely point out different paths of investigation, in order to find the first springs of the events I tell; - not like the decisive Tacitus, who outwits himself and his reader, but with the humility of a heart devoted to aiding the inquisitive; to them I write - and by them I shall be read, to the very end of the world. I can explain exactly how my great aunt Dinah created a rift between my father and my uncle. It occurred as follows: My uncle Toby Shandy was a gentleman who had a most extreme modesty of nature. Whether 'twas natural or acquired, 'twas nevertheless modesty in its truest sense; and that is, Madam, not in regard to words, but to things. His modesty even equalled, if possible, the modesty of a woman: that female cleanliness of mind, Madam, which makes your sex so much an object of awe to ours. You might imagine, Madam, that my uncle Toby spent much of his time talking with your sex, and that from such fair examples acquired this turn of mind. I wish I could say so, - but unless it was with his sister-in-law, my mother, my uncle Toby scarce exchanged three words with the female sex in as many years. No; he got this modesty, Madam, by a blow. - A blow! - Yes, Madam, a blow from a stone, broke off by a cannon-ball from the parapet of a horn-work at the siege of Namur, which struck full upon my uncle Toby's groin. - How could that cause it? - The story of that, Madam, is long and interesting; but it would be running my history all upon heaps to give it you here. Later on, every detail of it shall be faithfully laid before you: but till then, I can say only that my uncle Toby was a gentleman of unparalleled modesty. Since he also had some family pride, he could never bear to hear the affair of my aunt Dinah mentioned, without the greatest emotion. The least hint of it made him blush; but when my father told the story in mixed company, which he did frequently, it would set my uncle Toby's modesty bleeding; and he would take my father aside to expostulate with him, saying he would give him anything if he would only let the story rest. My father, I believe, had the truest love for my uncle Toby, and would have done anything to ease his brother's heart. But this lay out of his power. My father, as I told you, was a philosopher; and my aunt Dinah's affair was a matter of as much consequence to him, as the movements of the planets in their systems. Just as Venus's orbit fortified the Copernican system, so the backslidings of my aunt Dinah in her orbit, did the same service in establishing my father's system of names, which, I trust, will for ever hereafter be called the Shandean System. In any other family dishonour, my father would not have revealed the affair to the world; but he felt he owed an obligation to truth. My father would say to my uncle Toby, 'Dinah was my aunt; - but Truth is my sister.' These contrasting tempers of my father and my uncle were the source of many a fraternal squabble. The one could not bear to hear the tale of family disgrace, and the other would scarce let a day pass without some hint at it. 'For God's sake,' my uncle Toby would cry, 'and for my sake, and for all our sakes, my dear brother Shandy, do let this story of our aunt's sleep in peace! How can you have so little feeling for the character of our family?' 'What is the character of a family to an hypothesis?' my father would reply. 'Nay, if you come to that - what is the life of a family?' 'The life of a family!' my uncle Toby would say, throwing himself back in his armchair, and lifting up his hands, his eyes, and one leg. 'Yes, the life,' my father would say. 'How many thousands of 'em are every year cast away, (in all civilized countries at least) - and considered as nothing, compared to an hypothesis?' My uncle Toby would answer, 'Every such instance is downright Murder.' 'There lies your mistake,' my father would reply; 'for, in Science there is no such thing as murder; 'tis only Death, brother.' My uncle Toby would never answer this by any other argument, than that of whistling half a dozen bars of Lillabullero. This was the usual channel through which his passions got vent, when anything shocked or surprised him, or when he was presented with an absurdity. As none of our logical writers have thought proper to give a name to this particular species of argument, I here take the liberty to do it myself, for two reasons. First, that it may stand distinguished for ever from every other type of argument - like the Argumentum ad Verecundiam, ex Absurdo, ex Fortiori, etc; - and secondly, that it may be said by my grandchildren, when I am laid to rest, that their learned grandfather's head had been busy once; that he had invented a name for one of the best and most unanswerable arguments in the whole science of Logic. I do therefore command that it be known by the name and title of the Argumentum Fistulatorium (or Whistlers' Argument); and that it should rank hereafter with the Argumentum Baculinum (or Argument of Sticks) and the Argumentum ad Crumenam (or Moneybags' Argument), and for ever after be treated of in the same chapter. As for the Argumentum Tripodium, (or Three-footed Argument), which is never used except by the woman against the man; - and the Argumentum ad Rem (or Argument to the Point), which, contrarywise, is only used by the man against the woman; - as the one of these is the best answer to the other, let them be kept apart, and be treated of in a place by themselves.

Tristram Shandy

Book 1 - Chapter 21

It is so long since the reader of this rhapsodical work has been parted from the midwife, that it is high time to mention her again to him, merely to put him in mind that there is such a body still in the world, and whom, upon the best judgment I can form upon my own plan at present, --I am going to introduce to him for good and all: But as fresh matter may be started, and much unexpected business fall out betwixt the reader and myself, which may require immediate dispatch; ----'twas right to take care that the poor woman should not be lost in the meantime; --because when she is wanted, we can no way do without her. I think I told you that this good woman was a person of no small note and consequence throughout our whole village and township; --that her fame had spread itself to the very out-edge and circumference of that circle of importance, of which kind every soul living, whether he has a shirt to his back or no, ----has one surrounding him; --which said circle, by the way, whenever 'tis said that such a one is of great weight and importance in the _world_, ----I desire may be enlarged or contracted in your worship's fancy, in a compound ratio of the station, profession, knowledge, abilities, height and depth (measuring both ways) of the personage brought before you. In the present case, if I remember, I fixed it about four or five miles, which not only comprehended the whole parish, but extended itself to two or three of the adjacent hamlets in the skirts of the next parish; which made a considerable thing of it. I must add, That she was, moreover, very well looked on at one large grange-house, and some other odd houses and farms within two or three miles, as I said, from the smoke of her own chimney: ----But I must here, once for all, inform you, that all this will be more exactly delineated and explain'd in a map, now in the hands of the engraver, which, with many other pieces and developements of this work, will be added to the end of the twentieth volume, --not to swell the work, --I detest the thought of such a thing; --but by way of commentary, scholium, illustration, and key to such passages, incidents, or innuendos as shall be thought to be either of private interpretation, or of dark or doubtful meaning, after my life and my opinions shall have been read over (now don't forget the meaning of the word) by all the _world_; ----which, betwixt you and me, and in spite of all the gentlemen-reviewers in _Great Britain_, and of all that their worships shall undertake to write or say to the contrary, --I am determined shall be the case. --I need not tell your worship, that all this is spoke in confidence.

It is now high time to mention the midwife again, merely to remind the reader that there is such a person, whom I am going to introduce for good and all. But as unexpected business may intervene, 'twas right to take care that the poor woman should not be lost in the meantime; because when she is wanted, we cannot do without her. I think I told you that this good woman's fame had spread to the very edge of that circle of importance, which every soul has surrounding him; - and by the way, whenever 'tis said that some one is of great importance in the world, this circle may be enlarged or contracted in a compound ratio of their position, profession, knowledge, abilities, height and depth (measuring both ways). In the present case, if I remember, I fixed its diameter as about four miles, which not only took in the whole parish, but extended to the skirts of the next. She was, moreover, very well regarded at various houses and farms within another two or three miles. But I must here inform you that all this will be more exactly shown in a map, now in the hands of the engraver, which, with many other developments of this work, will be added to the end of the twentieth volume, - not to swell the work, for I detest the thought of such a thing, but by way of commentary, illustration, and a key to such passages as shall be thought to be of dark or doubtful meaning, after my life shall have been read by all the world; - which, between you and me, and in spite of all that the reviewers of Great Britain may write or say to the contrary, I am determined shall be the case. - I need not tell your worship, that all this is spoke in confidence.

Tristram Shandy

Book 1 - Chapter 13

As the ancients agree, brother _Toby_, said my father, that there are two different and distinct kinds of _love_, according to the different parts which are affected by it--the Brain or Liver ----I think when a man is in love, it behoves him a little to consider which of the two he is fallen into. What signifies it, brother _Shandy_, replied my uncle _Toby_, which of the two it is, provided it will but make a man marry, and love his wife, and get a few children? ----A few children! cried my father, rising out of his chair, and looking full in my mother's face, as he forced his way betwixt her's and doctor _Slop's_--a few children! cried my father, repeating my uncle _Toby's_ words as he walk'd to and fro---- ----Not, my dear brother _Toby_, cried my father, recovering himself all at once, and coming close up to the back of my uncle _Toby's_ chair--not that I should be sorry hadst thou a score--on the contrary, I should rejoice--and be as kind, _Toby_, to every one of them as a father-- My uncle _Toby_ stole his hand unperceived behind his chair, to give my father's a squeeze---- ----Nay, moreover, continued he, keeping hold of my uncle _Toby's_ hand--so much dost thou possess, my dear _Toby_, of the milk of human nature, and so little of its asperities--'tis piteous the world is not peopled by creatures which resemble thee; and was I an _Asiatic_ monarch, added my father, heating himself with his new project --I would oblige thee, provided it would not impair thy strength--or dry up thy radical moisture too fast--or weaken thy memory or fancy, brother _Toby_, which these gymnics inordinately taken are apt to do--else, dear _Toby_, I would procure thee the most beautiful women in my empire, and I would oblige thee, _nolens, volens_, to beget for me one subject every _month_---- As my father pronounced the last word of the sentence--my mother took a pinch of snuff. Now I would not, quoth my uncle _Toby_, get a child, _nolens, volens_, that is, whether I would or no, to please the greatest prince upon earth---- ----And 'twould be cruel in me, brother _Toby_, to compel thee; said my father--but 'tis a case put to show thee, that it is not thy begetting a child--in case thou should'st be able--but the system of Love and Marriage thou goest upon, which I would set thee right in---- There is at least, said _Yorick_, a great deal of reason and plain sense in captain _Shandy's_ opinion of love; and 'tis amongst the ill-spent hours of my life, which I have to answer for, that I have read so many flourishing poets and rhetoricians in my time, from whom I never could extract so much---- I wish, _Yorick_, said my father, you had read _Plato_; for there you would have learnt that there are two LOVES --I know there were two RELIGIONS, replied _Yorick_, amongst the ancients----one--for the vulgar, and another for the learned; --but I think ONE LOVE might have served both of them very well-- It could not; replied my father--and for the same reasons: for of these Loves, according to _Ficinus's_ comment upon _Velasius_, the one is rational---- ----the other is _natural_---- the first ancient----without mother----where _Venus_ had nothing to do: the second, begotten of _Jupiter_ and _Dione_-- ----Pray, brother, quoth my uncle _Toby_, what has a man who believes in God to do with this? My father could not stop to answer, for fear of breaking the thread of his discourse---- This latter, continued he, partakes wholly of the nature of _Venus_. The first, which is the golden chain let down from heaven, excites to love heroic, which comprehends in it, and excites to the desire of philosophy and truth----the second, excites to _desire_, simply---- ----I think the procreation of children as beneficial to the world, said _Yorick_, as the finding out of the longitude---- ----To be sure, said my mother, _love_ keeps peace in the world---- ----In the _house_--my dear, I own-- ----It replenishes the earth; said my mother---- But it keeps heaven empty--my dear; replied my father. ----'Tis Virginity, cried _Slop_, triumphantly, which fills paradise. Well push'd, nun! quoth my father.

'As the ancients agree, brother Toby,' said my father, 'that there are two distinct kinds of love, according to the different parts which are affected by it - the Brain or Liver - when a man is in love, he needs to consider which of the two he is fallen into.' 'What does it matter which it is,' replied my uncle Toby, 'provided it will make a man marry, and love his wife, and get a few children?' 'A few children!' cried my father, rising out of his chair, and looking full in my mother's face. 'A few children!' he repeated as he walked to and fro. 'Not, my dear brother Toby,' he cried, recovering himself, 'not that I should be sorry if thou hadst - on the contrary, I should rejoice - and be as kind to every one of them as a father-' My uncle Toby stole his hand into my father's to give it a squeeze. 'Nay, moreover,' continued he, 'so full art thou, my dear Toby, of the milk of human nature, 'tis a pity the world is not peopled by creatures like thee; and was I an Asiatic monarch, I would oblige thee, provided it would not impair thy strength - or weaken thy mind, brother Toby, which these gymnics are apt to do - otherwise, dear Toby, I would procure thee the most beautiful women in my empire, and I would oblige thee, willy nilly, to beget one subject every month.' 'Now I would not,' quoth my uncle Toby, 'get a child, willy nilly, that is, whether I wished or no, to please the greatest prince upon earth.' 'And 'twould be cruel in me, brother, to compel thee;' said my father; 'but 'tis a case put to show thee, that it is not thy begetting a child, but the system of Love and Marriage, which I would set thee right in.' 'There is a great deal of plain sense in captain Shandy's opinion of love,' said Yorick. 'Amongst the ill-spent hours of my life, I have read many flourishing poets, from whom I never could extract so much-' 'I wish, Yorick,' said my father, 'you had read Plato; for there you would have learnt that there are two Loves.' 'I know there were two Religions among the ancients,' replied Yorick, 'one for the vulgar, and another for the learned; but I think one Love might have served both of them very well.' 'It could not,' replied my father, 'because according to Ficinus, one of these loves is rational - the other is natural. The first is ancient - without mother: the second, begotten of Jupiter and Dione.' 'Pray, brother,' quoth my uncle Toby, 'what has a man who believes in God to do with this?' My father could not stop to answer, for fear of breaking his thread. 'The latter,' continued he, 'is wholly of the nature of Venus. The first excites to heroic love, and the desire of philosophy and truth - the second excites to desire, simply-' 'I think the procreation of children as beneficial to the world,' said Yorick, 'as the finding out of the longitude.' 'To be sure,' said my mother, 'love keeps peace in the world.' 'In the house, my dear, I own-' 'It replenishes the earth,' said my mother. 'But it keeps heaven empty - my dear,' replied my father. ''Tis Virginity,' cried Slop triumphantly, 'which fills paradise.' 'Well said, nun!' quoth my father.

Tristram Shandy

Book 8 - Chapter 33

------To us, _Jonathan_, who know not what want or care is--who live here in the service of two of the best of masters--(bating in my own case his majesty King _William_ the Third, whom I had the honour to serve both in _Ireland_ and _Flanders_) --I own it, that from _Whitsontide_ to within three weeks of _Christmas_, --'tis not long--'tis like nothing; --but to those, _Jonathan_, who know what death is, and what havock and destruction he can make, before a man can well wheel about--'tis like a whole age. --O _Jonathan!_ 'twould make a good-natured man's heart bleed, to consider, continued the corporal (standing perpendicularly), how low many a brave and upright fellow has been laid since that time! --And trust me, _Susy_, added the corporal, turning to _Susannah_, whose eyes were swimming in water, --before that time comes round again, --many a bright eye will be dim. --_Susannah_ placed it to the right side of the page--she wept--but she court'sied too. --Are we not, continued _Trim_, looking still at _Susannah_ --are we not like a flower of the field--a tear of pride stole in betwixt every two tears of humiliation--else no tongue could have described _Susannah's_ affliction--is not all flesh grass? --'Tis clay, --'tis dirt. --They all looked directly at the scullion, --the scullion had just been scouring a fish-kettle. --It was not fair.---- --What is the finest face that ever man looked at! --I could hear _Trim_ talk so for ever, cried _Susannah_, --what is it! (_Susannah_ laid her hand upon _Trim's_ shoulder)--but corruption? ----_Susannah_ took it off. Now I love you for this--and 'tis this delicious mixture within you which makes you dear creatures what you are--and he who hates you for it------all I can say of the matter is --That he has either a pumpkin for his head--or a pippin for his heart, --and whenever he is dissected 'twill be found so.

'To us, Jonathan, who know not want or care - who live here in the service of two of the best of masters (excepting his majesty King William the Third) - I admit that from Whitsuntide to within three weeks of Christmas is not long; - but to those, Jonathan, who know what death is, and what havoc and destruction he can make - 'tis a whole age. O Jonathan! 'twould make a man's heart bleed,' continued the corporal, 'to consider how low many a brave and upright fellow has been laid since that time! 'And trust me, Susy,' he added, turning to Susannah, whose eyes were swimming, 'before that time comes round again, many a bright eye will be dim.' Susannah wept - but she curtsied too. Trim continued, still looking at her, 'Are we not like a flower of the field - is not all flesh grass? 'Tis clay, - 'tis dirt.' - They all looked at the scullery maid. 'What is the finest face that ever man saw?' 'I could hear Trim talk so for ever,' cried Susannah (laying her hand upon Trim's shoulder). 'What is it - but corruption?' - Susannah took it off. Now I love you for this - 'tis this delicious mixture within you which makes you the dear creatures you are - and anyone who hates you for it - all I can say is, he has a pumpkin for his head.

Tristram Shandy

Book 5 - Chapter 9

All is quiet and hush, cried my father, at least above stairs --I hear not one foot stirring. --Prithee, _Trim_, who's in the kitchen? There is no one soul in the kitchen, answered _Trim_, making a low bow as he spoke, except Dr. _Slop_. --Confusion! cried my father (getting up upon his legs a second time)--not one single thing was gone right this day! had I faith in astrology, brother (which, by the bye, my father had), I would have sworn some retrograde planet was hanging over this unfortunate house of mine, and turning every individual thing in it out of its place. ----Why, I thought Dr. _Slop_ had been above stairs with my wife, and so said you. ----What can the fellow be puzzling about in the kitchen! --He is busy, an' please your honour, replied _Trim_, in making a bridge. ----'Tis very obliging in him, quoth my uncle _Toby_: ------pray, give my humble service to Dr. _Slop_, _Trim_, and tell him I thank him heartily. You must know, my uncle _Toby_ mistook the bridge--as widely as my father mistook the mortars; ----but to understand how my uncle _Toby_ could mistake the bridge --I fear I must give you an exact account of the road which led to it; --or to drop my metaphor (for there is nothing more dishonest in an historian than the use of one)----in order to conceive the probability of this error in my uncle _Toby_ aright, I must give you some account of an adventure of _Trim's_, though much against my will, I say much against my will, only because the story, in one sense, is certainly out of its place here; for by right it should come in, either amongst the anecdotes of my uncle _Toby's_ amours with widow _Wadman_, in which corporal _Trim_ was no mean actor--or else in the middle of his and my uncle _Toby's_ campaigns on the bowling-green--for it will do very well in either place; --but then if I reserve it for either of those parts of my story ----I ruin the story I'm upon; ----and if I tell it here --I anticipate matters, and ruin it there. --What would your worships have me to do in this case? --Tell it, Mr. _Shandy_, by all means. --You are a fool, _Tristram_, if you do. O ye powers! (for powers ye are, and great ones too)--which enable mortal man to tell a story worth the hearing------that kindly shew him, where he is to begin it--and where he is to end it----what he is to put into it----and what he is to leave out--how much of it he is to cast into a shade--and whereabouts he is to throw his light! --Ye, who preside over this vast empire of biographical freebooters, and see how many scrapes and plunges your subjects hourly fall into; ----will you do one thing? I beg and beseech you (in case you will do nothing better for us) that wherever in any part of your dominions it so falls out, that three several roads meet in one point, as they have done just here----that at least you set up a guide-post in the centre of them, in mere charity, to direct an uncertain devil which of the three he is to take.

'All is quiet and hush above stairs,' cried my father; 'I hear not one foot stirring. Prithee, Trim, who's in the kitchen?' 'Not a soul,' answered Trim, 'except Dr. Slop.' 'Confusion!' cried my father, getting to his feet; 'not one thing has gone right this day! If I believed in astrology' (which, by the bye, my father did), 'I would have sworn some retrograde planet was hanging over this unfortunate house, and turning everything out of its place. Why, I thought Dr. Slop was upstairs with my wife. What can the fellow be puzzling about in the kitchen?' 'He is busy, your honour,' replied Trim, 'in making a bridge.' ''Tis very obliging in him,' quoth my uncle Toby: 'pray tell him I thank him heartily.' My uncle Toby mistook the bridge as widely as my father mistook the mortars; - but to understand this, I fear I must give you an exact account of the road which led to the mistake; or at least I must give you some account of an adventure of Trim's, though much against my will; I say much against my will, because the story is certainly out of its place here; for by rights it should come either amongst the anecdotes of my uncle Toby's amours with widow Wadman, or else in Trim's and my uncle Toby's campaigns on the bowling-green; but then if I reserve it for either of those parts of my story, I ruin the story I'm upon; - and if I tell it here, I anticipate matters, and ruin it there. What would your worships have me do in this case? - Tell it, Mr. Shandy, by all means. - You are a fool, Tristram, if you do. O ye powers which enable mortal man to tell a story worth the hearing - that kindly show him where to begin and where to end it - what to put in and what to leave out! Ye, who preside over this vast empire of biographical freebooters, and see how many scrapes your subjects hourly fall into - will you do one thing? I beg and beseech you that wherever three different roads meet in one point, as they have done just here - that you set up a guide-post in the centre of them, in mere charity, to direct an uncertain devil which road he is to take.

Tristram Shandy

Book 3 - Chapter 23

--_De gustibus non est disputandum_; --that is, there is no disputing against HOBBY-HORSES; and for my part, I seldom do; nor could I with any sort of grace, had I been an enemy to them at the bottom; for happening, at certain intervals and changes of the moon, to be both fidler and painter, according as the fly stings: --Be it known to you, that I keep a couple of pads myself, upon which, in their turns, (nor do I care who knows it) I frequently ride out and take the air; --though sometimes, to my shame be it spoken, I take somewhat longer journies than what a wise man would think altogether right. --But the truth is, --I am not a wise man; --and besides am a mortal of so little consequence in the world, it is not much matter what I do: so I seldom fret or fume at all about it: Nor does it much disturb my rest, when I see such great Lords and tall Personages as hereafter follow; --such, for instance, as my Lord A, B, C, D, E, F, G, H, I, K, L, M, N, O, P, Q, and so on, all of a row, mounted upon their several horses; --some with large stirrups, getting on in a more grave and sober pace; ----others on the contrary, tucked up to their very chins, with whips across their mouths, scouring and scampering it away like so many little party-coloured devils astride a mortgage, --and as if some of them were resolved to break their necks. ----So much the better--say I to myself; --for in case the worst should happen, the world will make a shift to do excellently well without them; and for the rest, ----why ----God speed them----e'en let them ride on without opposition from me; for were their lordships unhorsed this very night--'tis ten to one but that many of them would be worse mounted by one half before to-morrow morning. Not one of these instances therefore can be said to break in upon my rest. ----But there is an instance, which I own puts me off my guard, and that is, when I see one born for great actions, and what is still more for his honour, whose nature ever inclines him to good ones; --when I behold such a one, my Lord, like yourself, whose principles and conduct are as generous and noble as his blood, and whom, for that reason, a corrupt world cannot spare one moment; --when I see such a one, my Lord, mounted, though it is but for a minute beyond the time which my love to my country has prescribed to him, and my zeal for his glory wishes, --then, my Lord, I cease to be a philosopher, and in the first transport of an honest impatience, I wish the HOBBY-HORSE, with all his fraternity, at the Devil. "MY LORD, "I maintain this to be a dedication, notwithstanding its singularity in the three great essentials of matter, form, and place: I beg, therefore, you will accept it as such, and that you will permit me to lay it, with the most respectful humility, at your Lordship's feet, --when you are upon them, --which you can be when you please; --and that is, my Lord, whenever there is occasion for it, and I will add, to the best purposes too. I have the honour to be, "_My Lord, Your Lordship's most obedient, and most devoted, and most humble servant_, TRISTRAM SHANDY."

De gustibus non est disputandum; that is, there is no arguing with Hobby-Horses. For my part, I seldom do; nor could I with any grace, since I happen, at certain phases of the moon, to be both fiddler and painter. Indeed, I keep a couple of nags myself, upon which (and I do not care who knows it) I frequently ride out and take the air; though sometimes on longer journeys than a wise man would think right. But the truth is, I am not a wise man; - and besides am of so little consequence, it does not matter what I do: so I seldom fret about it. Nor does it much disturb my rest, when I see great Lords and tall Personages, such as my Lords A, B, C, D, E, F, G, H, I, K, L, M, N, and so on, all of a row, mounted upon their hobby-horses; - some with large stirrups, stepping gravely; others scampering it away like so many little party-coloured devils astride a mortgage, as if they were resolved to break their necks. So much the better, say I; for if the worst should happen, the world will manage excellently well without them; and for the rest, why, let them ride on; for if their lordships were unhorsed this very night, ten to one they would be worse mounted before tomorrow morning. None of these instances disturbs me. But there is an instance, which I own puts me off my guard, and that is, when I see one born for great actions - such a one, my Lord, as yourself, whose principles and conduct are as generous and noble as his blood - when I see such a one, my Lord, mounted, then I cease to be a philosopher, and with honest impatience I wish the Hobby-Horse at the Devil. 'My Lord, 'I maintain this to be a dedication, despite its unusual matter, form, and place: I beg, therefore, you will accept it as such, and that you will permit me to lay it, with the most respectful humility, at your Lordship's feet - when you are upon them, which you can be when you please - and that is, my Lord, whenever there is occasion for it. I have the honour to be, My Lord, Your Lordship's most obedient, and most devoted, and most humble servant, TRISTRAM SHANDY.

Tristram Shandy

Book 1 - Chapter 8

When _Susannah_ told the corporal the misadventure of the sash, with all the circumstances which attended the _murder_ of me, --(as she called it)-- the blood forsook his cheeks, --all accessaries in murder being principals, --_Trim's_ conscience told him he was as much to blame as _Susannah_, --and if the doctrine had been true, my uncle _Toby_ had as much of the bloodshed to answer for to heaven, as either of 'em; --so that neither reason or instinct, separate or together, could possibly have guided _Susannah's_ steps to so proper an asylum. It is in vain to leave this to the Reader's imagination: --to form any kind of hypothesis that will render these propositions feasible, he must cudgel his brains sore, --and to do it without, --he must have such brains as no reader ever had before him. ----Why should I put them either to trial or to torture? 'Tis my own affair: I'll explain it myself.

When Susannah told the corporal the misadventure of the sash, and its 'murder' of me, (as she called it), the blood left his cheeks - all accessories in murder being guilty. Trim's conscience told him he was as much to blame as Susannah; and if this had been true, my uncle Toby would have had as much to answer for as either of 'em; so that neither reason nor instinct could possibly have guided Susannah's steps to so suitable an asylum. It is in vain for the Reader to try to understand this: to form any theory that will explain it, he must cudgel his brains sore. Why should I torture him? 'Tis my own affair: I'll explain it myself.

Tristram Shandy

Book 5 - Chapter 18

----No, --I think I have advanced nothing, replied my father, making answer to a question which _Yorick_ had taken the liberty to put to him, --I have advanced nothing in the _Tristra-pdia_, but what is as clear as any one proposition in _Euclid_. --Reach me, _Trim_, that book from off the scrutoir: ----it has oft-times been in my mind, continued my father, to have read it over both to you, _Yorick_, and to my brother _Toby_, and I think it a little unfriendly in myself, in not having done it long ago: ----shall we have a short chapter or two now, --and a chapter or two hereafter, as occasions serve; and so on, till we get through the whole? My uncle _Toby_ and _Yorick_ made the obeisance which was proper; and the corporal, though he was not included in the compliment, laid his hand upon his breast, and made his bow at the same time. ----The company smiled. _Trim_, quoth my father, has paid the full price for staying out the _entertainment_. ----He did not seem to relish the play, replied _Yorick_. ----'Twas a Tom-fool-battle, an' please your reverence, of captain _Tripet's_ and that other officer, making so many summersets, as they advanced; ----the _French_ come on capering now and then in that way, --but not quite so much. My uncle _Toby_ never felt the consciousness of his existence with more complacency than what the corporal's, and his own reflections, made him do at that moment; ----he lighted his pipe, ----_Yorick_ drew his chair closer to the table, --_Trim_ snuff'd the candle, --my father stirr'd up the fire, --took up the book, --cough'd twice, and begun.

'No,' replied my father, answering a question from Yorick. 'I have not advanced in the Tristra-paedia, but - reach me, Trim, the book from off the desk - it has oft-times been in my mind to read it over to you, Yorick, and to my brother Toby: - shall we have a short chapter or two now, and more later on, till we get through the whole?' My uncle Toby and Yorick agreed politely; and the corporal, though he was not included in the compliment, made his bow. The company smiled. 'Trim,' quoth my father, 'has paid the full price for staying out the entertainment.' 'He did not seem to relish the play,' replied Yorick. ''Twas a Tom-fool-battle, your reverence, of captain Tripet's and that other officer, making so many somersaults; the French come on capering now and then, but not quite so much.' My uncle Toby never felt more pleased than with the corporal's reflections at that moment. He lit his pipe; Yorick drew his chair closer to the table; my father took up the book, coughed twice, and began.

Tristram Shandy

Book 5 - Chapter 30

The first thirty pages, said my father, turning over the leaves, --are a little dry; and as they are not closely connected with the subject, ----for the present we'll pass them by: 'tis a prefatory introduction, continued my father, or an introductory preface (for I am not determined which name to give it) upon political or civil government; the foundation of which being laid in the first conjunction betwixt male and female, for procreation of the species ----I was insensibly led into it. ----'Twas natural, said _Yorick_. The original of society, continued my father, I'm satisfied is, what _Politian_ tells us, _i.e._, merely conjugal; and nothing more than the getting together of one man and one woman; --to which, (according to _Hesiod_) the philosopher adds a servant: ----but supposing in the first beginning there were no men servants born----he lays the foundation of it, in a man, --a woman--and a bull. ----I believe 'tis an ox, quoth _Yorick_, quoting the passage ( , , ' ). ----A bull must have given more trouble than his head was worth. ----But there is a better reason still, said my father (dipping his pen into his ink); for the ox being the most patient of animals, and the most useful withal in tilling the ground for their nourishment, --was the properest instrument, and emblem too, for the new joined couple, that the creation could have associated with them. --And there is a stronger reason, added my uncle _Toby_, than them all for the ox. --My father had not power to take his pen out of his ink-horn, till he had heard my uncle _Toby's_ reason. --For when the ground was tilled, said my uncle _Toby_, and made worth inclosing, then they began to secure it by walls and ditches, which was the origin of fortification. ----True, true, dear _Toby_, cried my father, striking out the bull, and putting the ox in his place. My father gave _Trim_ a nod, to snuff the candle, and resumed his discourse. ----I enter upon this speculation, said my father carelessly, and half shutting the book, as he went on, merely to shew the foundation of the natural relation between a father and his child; the right and jurisdiction over whom he acquires these several ways-- 1st, by marriage. 2d, by adoption. 3d, by legitimation. And 4th, by procreation; all which I consider in their order. I lay a slight stress upon one of them, replied _Yorick_----the act, especially where it ends there, in my opinion lays as little obligation upon the child, as it conveys power to the father. --You are wrong, --said my father argutely, and for this plain reason * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * --I own, added my father, that the offspring, upon this account, is not so under the power and jurisdiction of the mother. --But the reason, replied _Yorick_, equally holds good for her. ----She is under authority herself, said my father: --and besides, continued my father, nodding his head, and laying his finger upon the side of his nose, as he assigned his reason, --_she is not the principal agent, _Yorick_._ --In what, quoth my uncle _Toby?_ stopping his pipe. --Though by all means, added my father (not attending to my uncle _Toby_) "_The son ought to pay her respect_," as you may read, _Yorick_, at large in the first book of the Institutes of _Justinian_, at the eleventh title and the tenth section, --I can read it as well, replied _Yorick_, in the Catechism.

'The first thirty pages,' said my father, turning over the leaves, 'are a little dry; and as they are not closely connected with the subject, we'll pass them by. 'Tis a prefatory introduction, or an introductory preface (for I am not sure which to call it) upon political government; the foundation of which is laid in the first conjunction betwixt male and female, for procreation of the species - I was insensibly led into it.' ''Twas natural,' said Yorick. 'The origin of society,' continued my father, 'is conjugal; and nothing more than the getting together of one man and one woman; to which Hesiod adds a servant: but supposing in the beginning there were no men servants born - he lays the foundation of society in a man, a woman and a bull.' 'I believe 'tis an ox,' quoth Yorick, quoting the passage in Greek. 'A bull must have given more trouble than he was worth.' 'But there is a better reason,' said my father (dipping his pen into his ink); 'for since the ox is the most patient and useful of animals, 'twas the best emblem for the new joined couple.' 'And there is a stronger reason still for the ox,' added my uncle Toby. 'For when the ground was tilled by the ox, then they began to secure it by walls and ditches, which was the origin of fortification.' 'True, true, dear Toby,' cried my father, striking out bull, and putting ox in his place. He gave Trim a nod to snuff the candle, and resumed. 'I enter upon this speculation,' said he carelessly, half shutting the book, 'merely to show the foundation of the natural relation between a father and his child; he acquires these rights over him in several ways- '1st, by marriage. '2nd, by adoption. '3rd, by legitimation. 'And 4th, by procreation; all of which I consider in their order.' 'I would lay some stress on one of them,' replied Yorick: 'the act of procreation, especially when it ends there, in my opinion lays as little obligation upon the child, as it conveys power to the father.' 'You are wrong,' said my father, 'and for this plain reason: * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * - I own,' added my father, 'that the offspring, upon this account, is not under the power of the mother.' 'But the reason holds equally good for her,' replied Yorick. 'She is under another's authority herself,' said my father: 'and besides, she is not the principal agent.' 'In what?' asked my uncle Toby. 'Though by all means,' added my father (not attending to my uncle Toby), '"The son ought to pay her respect," as you may read, Yorick, in the first book of the Institutes of Justinian, at the eleventh title and the tenth section.' 'I can read it just as well,' replied Yorick, 'in the Catechism.'

Tristram Shandy

Book 5 - Chapter 31

----Bless my soul! --my poor mistress is ready to faint----and her pains are gone--and the drops are done--and the bottle of julap is broke----and the nurse has cut her arm--(and I, my thumb, cried Dr. _Slop_,) and the child is where it was, continued _Susannah_, --and the midwife has fallen backwards upon the edge of the fender, and bruised her hip as black as your hat. --I'll look at it, quoth Dr. _Slop_. --There is no need of that, replied _Susannah_, --you had better look at my mistress--but the midwife would gladly first give you an account how things are, so desires you would go up stairs and speak to her this moment. Human nature is the same in all professions. The midwife had just before been put over Dr. _Slop's_ head --He had not digested it, --No, replied Dr. _Slop_, 'twould be full as proper, if the midwife came down to me. --I like subordination, quoth my uncle _Toby_, --and but for it, after the reduction of _Lisle_, I know not what might have become of the garrison of _Ghent_, in the mutiny for bread, in the year Ten. --Nor, replied Dr. _Slop_, (parodying my uncle _Toby's_ hobby-horsical reflection; though full as hobby-horsical himself)------do I know, Captain _Shandy_, what might have become of the garrison above stairs, in the mutiny and confusion I find all things are in at present, but for the subordination of fingers and thumbs to ******------the application of which, Sir, under this accident of mine, comes in so _ propos_, that without it, the cut upon my thumb might have been felt by the _Shandy_ family, as long as the _Shandy_ family had a name.

- 'Bless my soul! - my poor mistress is ready to faint - and her pains are gone - and the bottle of julap is broke - and the nurse has cut her arm-' ('and I, my thumb,' cried Dr. Slop,) - 'and the child is where it was,' continued Susannah, 'and the midwife has fallen backwards upon the fender, and bruised her hip as black as your hat.' 'I'll look at it,' quoth Dr. Slop. 'There is no need of that,' replied Susannah; 'you had better look at my mistress. But the midwife would gladly first tell you how things are, so desires you would go upstairs and speak to her.' Human nature is the same in all professions. The midwife had earlier been put over Dr. Slop's head. - 'No,' replied Dr. Slop, ''twould be proper if the midwife came down to me.' 'I like subordination,' quoth my uncle Toby, 'and without it, after the reduction of Lisle, I know not what might have become of the garrison of Ghent, in the mutiny in the year Ten.' 'Nor do I know, Captain Shandy,' replied Dr. Slop, (parodying my uncle Toby's hobby-horsical reflection, though full as hobby-horsical himself) 'what might have become of the garrison above stairs, in the mutiny and confusion I find things are in at present, but for the subordination of fingers and thumbs to ****** - the application of which, Sir, with this accident of mine, comes in so propos, that without it, the cut upon my thumb might have been felt by the Shandy family, as long as they had a name.'

Tristram Shandy

Book 3 - Chapter 13

--Upon my honour, Sir, you have tore every bit of skin quite off the back of both my hands with your forceps, cried my uncle _Toby_--and you have crush'd all my knuckles into the bargain with them to a jelly. 'Tis your own fault, said Dr. _Slop_----you should have clinch'd your two fists together into the form of a child's head as I told you, and sat firm. I did so, answered my uncle _Toby_. ----Then the points of my forceps have not been sufficiently arm'd, or the rivet wants closing--or else the cut in my thumb has made me a little aukward--or possibly--'Tis well, quoth my father, interrupting the detail of possibilities--that the experiment was not first made upon my child's head-piece. ------It would not have been a cherry-stone the worse, answered Dr. _Slop_. --I maintain it, said my uncle _Toby_, it would have broke the cerebellum (unless indeed the skull had been as hard as a granado) and turn'd it all into a perfect posset. ------Pshaw! replied Dr. _Slop_, a child's head is naturally as soft as the pap of an apple; --the sutures give way--and besides, I could have extracted by the feet after. --Not you, said she. ----I rather wish you would begin that way, quoth my father. Pray do, added my uncle _Toby_.

'Upon my honour, Sir, you have tore every bit of skin off the back of my hands with your forceps,' cried my uncle Toby, 'and you have crushed my knuckles to a jelly into the bargain.' ''Tis your own fault,' said Dr. Slop; 'you should have clinched your two fists together in the form of a child's head as I told you, and sat firm.' 'I did so,' answered my uncle Toby. 'Then the points of my forceps have not been sufficiently armed, or the rivet wants closing - or else the cut in my thumb made me a little awkward - or possibly-' ''Tis well,' quoth my father, interrupting, 'that the experiment was not first made upon my child's head.' 'It would not have been a cherry-stone the worse,' answered Dr. Slop. 'I maintain,' said my uncle Toby, 'it would have broke the cerebellum (unless the skull had been as hard as granite).' 'Pshaw!' replied Dr. Slop, 'a child's head is naturally as soft as the pap of an apple; the sutures give way - and besides, I could have extracted by the feet after.' 'Not you,' said the midwife. 'I rather wish you would begin that way,' quoth my father.

Tristram Shandy

Book 3 - Chapter 16

The wound in my uncle _Toby's_ groin, which he received at the siege of _Namur_, rendering him unfit for the service, it was thought expedient he should return to _England_, in order, if possible, to be set to rights. He was four years totally confined, --part of it to his bed, and all of it to his room: and in the course of his cure, which was all that time in hand, suffer'd unspeakable miseries, --owing to a succession of exfoliations from the _os pubis_, and the outward edge of that part of the _coxendix_ called the _os illium_, ----both which bones were dismally crush'd, as much by the irregularity of the stone, which I told you was broke off the parapet, --as by its size, --(tho' it was pretty large) which inclined the surgeon all along to think, that the great injury which it had done my uncle _Toby's_ groin, was more owing to the gravity of the stone itself, than to the projectile force of it, --which he would often tell him was a great happiness. My father at that time was just beginning business in _London_, and had taken a house; --and as the truest friendship and cordiality subsisted between the two brothers, --and that my father thought my uncle _Toby_ could no where be so well nursed and taken care of as in his own house, ----he assign'd him the very best apartment in it. --And what was a much more sincere mark of his affection still, he would never suffer a friend or an acquaintance to step into the house on any occasion, but he would take him by the hand, and lead him up stairs to see his brother _Toby_, and chat an hour by his bedside. The history of a soldier's wound beguiles the pain of it; --my uncle's visitors at least thought so, and in their daily calls upon him, from the courtesy arising out of that belief, they would frequently turn the discourse to that subject, --and from that subject the discourse would generally roll on to the siege itself. These conversations were infinitely kind; and my uncle _Toby_ received great relief from them, and would have received much more, but that they brought him into some unforeseen perplexities, which, for three months together, retarded his cure greatly; and if he had not hit upon an expedient to extricate himself out of them, I verily believe they would have laid him in his grave. What these perplexities of my uncle _Toby_ were, ----'tis impossible for you to guess; --if you could, --I should blush; not as a relation, --not as a man, --nor even as a woman, --but I should blush as an author; inasmuch as I set no small store by myself upon this very account, that my reader has never yet been able to guess at anything. And in this, Sir, I am of so nice and singular a humour, that if I thought you was able to form the least judgment or probable conjecture to yourself, of what was to come in the next page, --I would tear it out of my book.

When the wound in my uncle Toby's groin, which he received at the siege of Namur, made him unfit for the army, he returned to England, in order, if possible, to be set to rights. He was for four years totally confined to his room: and in the course of his cure, through all that time, suffered unspeakable miseries, owing to a series of exfoliations from the os pubis, and the os illium, both of which bones were dismally crushed, as much by the irregularity of the stone as by its size, (though it was pretty large), which made the surgeon think that the great injury which it had done my uncle Toby's groin, was more owing to the weight of the stone than to its projectile force. My father at that time was just beginning business in London, and had taken a house there; and as there was the truest friendship between the two brothers, and my father thought my uncle Toby could nowhere be so well nursed as in his own house, he assigned him the very best room in it. What was more, he would never allow a friend to step into the house without leading him upstairs to see his brother Toby, and chat an hour by his bedside. The history of a soldier's wound beguiles the pain of it; - my uncle's visitors at least thought so, and they would frequently turn the talk to that subject, - and from there, the talk would roll on to the siege itself. These conversations were infinitely kind; and my uncle Toby received great relief from them, and would have received much more, except that they brought him unforeseen perplexities, which for three months retarded his cure greatly; and if he had not hit upon a way to get himself out of them, I believe they would have laid him in his grave. What my uncle Toby's perplexities were - 'tis impossible for you to guess; if you could, I should blush; because as an author, I pride myself on the fact that my reader has never yet been able to guess anything. And in this, Sir, I am so fastidious that if I thought you were able to form the least conjecture of what was to come in the next page - I would tear it out of my book.

Tristram Shandy

Book 1 - Chapter 25

----Now my father had a way, a little like that of _Job's_ (in case there ever was such a man----if not, there's an end of the matter.---- Though, by the bye, because your learned men find some difficulty in fixing the precise ra in which so great a man lived; --whether, for instance, before or after the patriarchs, &c. ----to vote, therefore, that he never lived _at all_, is a little cruel, --'tis not doing as they would be done by, --happen that as it may) ----My father, I say, had a way, when things went extremely wrong with him, especially upon the first sally of his impatience, --of wondering why he was begot, --wishing himself dead; --sometimes worse: ----And when the provocation ran high, and grief touched his lips with more than ordinary powers --Sir, you scarce could have distinguished him from _Socrates_ himself. ----Every word would breathe the sentiments of a soul disdaining life, and careless about all its issues; for which reason, though my mother was a woman of no deep reading, yet the abstract of _Socrates's_ oration, which my father was giving my uncle _Toby_, was not altogether new to her. --She listened to it with composed intelligence, and would have done so to the end of the chapter, had not my father plunged (which he had no occasion to have done) into that part of the pleading where the great philosopher reckons up his connections, his alliances, and children; but renounces a security to be so won by working upon the passions of his judges. --"I have friends --I have relations, --I have three desolate children," --says _Socrates_.-- ----Then, cried my mother, opening the door, ----you have one more, Mr. _Shandy_, than I know of. By heaven! I have one less, --said my father, getting up and walking out of the room.

Now my father had a way like Job's (if there ever was such a man- - though, by the bye, just because your learned men find some difficulty in fixing the precise era in which he lived; whether before or after the patriarchs, &c. - to vote, therefore, that he never lived at all, is a little cruel.) My father, I say, had a way, when things went extremely wrong, of wondering why he was begot, wishing himself dead - and sometimes worse. And when the provocation ran high - Sir, you scarce could have distinguished him from Socrates himself: every word disdaining life, and careless about its issues. For this reason, though my mother was not a woman of deep reading, yet the summary of Socrates's oration, which my father was giving my uncle Toby, was not altogether new to her. She listened to it composedly, and would have done so to the end of the chapter, had not my father plunged without good reason into that part of the pleading where the great philosopher reckons up his alliances and children: 'I have friends - I have relations - I have three desolate children,' says Socrates. 'Then,' cried my mother, opening the door, 'you have one more, Mr. Shandy, than I know of.' 'By heaven! I have one less,' said my father, getting up and walking out of the room.

Tristram Shandy

Book 5 - Chapter 13

It is a great pity----but 'tis certain from every day's observation of man, that he may be set on fire like a candle, at either end--provided there is a sufficient wick standing out; if there is not--there's an end of the affair; and if there is--by lighting it at the bottom, as the flame in that case has the misfortune generally to put out itself--there's an end of the affair again. For my part, could I always have the ordering of it which way I would be burnt myself--for I cannot bear the thoughts of being burnt like a beast --I would oblige a housewife constantly to light me at the top; for then I should burn down decently to the socket; that is, from my head to my heart, from my heart to my liver, from my liver to my bowels, and so on by the meseraick veins and arteries, through all the turns and lateral insertions of the intestines and their tunicles to the blind gut---- ----I beseech you, doctor _Slop_, quoth my uncle _Toby_, interrupting him as he mentioned the _blind gut_, in a discourse with my father the night my mother was brought to bed of me ----I beseech you, quoth my uncle _Toby_, to tell me which is the blind gut; for, old as I am, I vow I do not know to this day where it lies. The _blind gut_, answered doctor _Slop_, lies betwixt the _Ilion_ and _Colon_---- In a man? said my father. ----'Tis precisely the same, cried doctor _Slop_, in a woman.---- That's more than I know; quoth my father.

It is a great pity - but 'tis certain that man may be set on fire like a candle, at either end - provided there is a sufficient wick standing out. If there is not - there's an end of it; and if there is - by lighting it at the bottom, as the flame in that case generally puts itself out - there's an end of it again. For my part, could I always choose which way I would be burnt - I would oblige a housewife constantly to light me at the top; for then I should burn down decently to the socket; that is, from my head to my heart, from my heart to my liver, from my liver to my bowels, and so on by the veins and arteries, through all the turns of the intestines and their tunicles to the blind gut- 'I beseech you, doctor Slop,' quoth my uncle Toby, interrupting him as he mentioned the blind gut, in a discourse with my father the night my mother was brought to bed of me - 'I beseech you,' quoth my uncle, 'to tell me which is the blind gut; for I do not know where it lies.' 'The blind gut,' answered doctor Slop, 'lies betwixt the Ilion and Colon.' 'In a man?' said my father. ''Tis precisely the same,' cried doctor Slop, 'in a woman.' 'That's more than I know,' quoth my father.

Tristram Shandy

Book 8 - Chapter 15

--But can the thing be undone, _Yorick?_ said my father--for in my opinion, continued he, it cannot. I am a vile canonist, replied _Yorick_--but of all evils, holding suspense to be the most tormenting, we shall at least know the worst of this matter. I hate these great dinners----said my father --The size of the dinner is not the point, answered _Yorick_----we want, Mr. _Shandy_, to dive into the bottom of this doubt, whether the name can be changed or not--and as the beards of so many commissaries, officials, advocates, proctors, registers, and of the most eminent of our school-divines, and others, are all to meet in the middle of one table, and _Didius_ has so pressingly invited you--who in your distress would miss such an occasion? All that is requisite, continued _Yorick_, is to apprize _Didius_, and let him manage a conversation after dinner so as to introduce the subject. --Then my brother _Toby_, cried my father, clapping his two hands together, shall go with us. ----Let my old tye-wig, quoth my uncle _Toby_, and my laced regimentals, be hung to the fire all night, _Trim_.

'But can the thing be undone, Yorick?' said my father. 'I am vile at canon law,' replied Yorick, 'but we shall at least know the worst of this matter.' 'I hate these great dinners,' said my father. 'The size of the dinner is not the point,' answered Yorick. 'We want, Mr. Shandy, to dive into the bottom of this doubt, whether the name can be changed or not - and as so many officials, advocates, proctors, and school-divines are all to meet at one table, and Didius has invited you - who, in your distress, would miss such an occasion? All that you need to do is to ask Didius to manage a conversation after dinner so as to introduce the subject.' 'Then my brother Toby shall go with us,' cried my father. 'Let my old tie-wig,' quoth my uncle Toby, 'and my laced regimentals, be hung by the fire all night, Trim.'

Tristram Shandy

Book 4 - Chapter 23

----They are _Socrates's_ children, said my uncle _Toby_. He has been dead a hundred years ago, replied my mother. My uncle _Toby_ was no chronologer--so not caring to advance one step but upon safe ground, he laid down his pipe deliberately upon the table, and rising up, and taking my mother most kindly by the hand, without saying another word, either good or bad, to her, he led her out after my father, that he might finish the ecclaircissement himself.

'They are Socrates's children,' said my uncle Toby. 'He has been dead a hundred years,' replied my mother. My uncle, not caring to argue, laid down his pipe upon the table. Rising up, and taking my mother most kindly by the hand, silently he led her out after my father, so that he might finish enlightening her himself.

Tristram Shandy

Book 5 - Chapter 14

Of all the tracts my father was at the pains to procure and study in support of his hypothesis, there was not any one wherein he felt a more cruel disappointment at first, than in the celebrated dialogue between _Pamphagus_ and _Cocles_, written by the chaste pen of the great and venerable _Erasmus_, upon the various uses and seasonable applications of long noses. ------Now don't let Satan, my dear girl, in this chapter, take advantage of any one spot of rising ground to get astride of your imagination, if you can any ways help it; or if he is so nimble as to slip on--let me beg of you, like an unback'd filly, _to frisk it, to squirt it, to jump it, to rear it, to bound it--and to kick it, with long kicks and short kicks_, till, like _Tickletoby's_ mare, you break a strap or a crupper and throw his worship into the dirt. --You need not kill him.-- --And pray who was _Tickletoby's_ mare? --'tis just as discreditable and unscholarlike a question, Sir, as to have asked what year (_ab. urb. con._) the second Punic war broke out. --Who was _Tickletoby's_ mare? ----Read, read, read, read, my unlearned reader! read--or by the knowledge of the great saint _Paraleipomenon_ --I tell you before-hand, you had better throw down the book at once; for without _much reading_, by which your reverence knows I mean _much knowledge_, you will no more be able to penetrate the moral of the next marbled page (motly emblem of my work!) than the world with all its sagacity has been able to unravel the many opinions, transactions, and truths which still lie mystically hid under the dark veil of the black one. [Illustration]

Of all the tracts my father studied in support of his hypothesis, there was not one which disappointed him more at first, than the celebrated dialogue between Pamphagus and Cocles, written by the great Erasmus, upon the various uses of long noses. - Now don't let Satan, my dear girl, get astride of your imagination: if he is so nimble as to slip on - let me beg you to frisk, jump, and kick like Tickletoby's mare till you throw his worship into the dirt. - And pray who was Tickletoby's mare? 'Tis as unscholarlike a question, Sir, as to have asked what year the second Punic war broke out. Read, read, read, my unlearned reader! - or by the knowledge of the great saint Paraleipomenon, you had better throw down this book at once; for without much reading and knowledge, you will no more be able to penetrate the moral of the next marbled page (motley emblem of my work!) than the world with all its wisdom has been able to unravel the many truths which still lie mystically hid under the dark veil of the black one.

Tristram Shandy

Book 3 - Chapter 36

----What can they be doing, brother? said my father. --I think, replied my uncle _Toby_, --taking, as I told you, his pipe from his mouth, and striking the ashes out of it as he began his sentence; ----I think, replied he, --it would not be amiss, brother, if we rung the bell. Pray, what's all that racket over our heads, _Obadiah?_ ----quoth my father; ----my brother and I can scarce hear ourselves speak. Sir, answered _Obadiah_, making a bow towards his left shoulder, --my Mistress is taken very badly. --And where's _Susannah_ running down the garden there, as if they were going to ravish her? ----Sir, she is running the shortest cut into the town, replied _Obadiah_, to fetch the old midwife. --Then saddle a horse, quoth my father, and do you go directly for Dr. _Slop_, the man-midwife, with all our services, ----and let him know your mistress is fallen into labour----and that I desire he will return with you with all speed. It is very strange, says my father, addressing himself to my uncle _Toby_, as _Obadiah_ shut the door, ----as there is so expert an operator as Dr. _Slop_ so near, --that my wife should persist to the very last in this obstinate humour of hers, in trusting the life of my child, who has had one misfortune already, to the ignorance of an old woman; ----and not only the life of my child, brother, ----but her own life, and with it the lives of all the children I might, peradventure, have begot out of her hereafter. Mayhap, brother, replied my uncle _Toby_, my sister does it to save the expense: --A pudding's end, --replied my father, ----the Doctor must be paid the same for inaction as action, ----if not better, --to keep him in temper. ----Then it can be out of nothing in the whole world, quoth my uncle _Toby_, in the simplicity of his heart, --but MODESTY. --My sister, I dare say, added he, does not care to let a man come so near her ****. I will not say whether my uncle _Toby_ had completed the sentence or not; ----'tis for his advantage to suppose he had, ----as, I think, he could have added no ONE WORD which would have improved it. If, on the contrary, my uncle _Toby_ had not fully arrived at the period's end, --then the world stands indebted to the sudden snapping of my father's tobacco-pipe for one of the neatest examples of that ornamental figure in oratory, which Rhetoricians stile the _Aposiopesis_. ----Just Heaven! how does the _Poco piu_ and the _Poco meno_ of the _Italian_ artists; --the insensible MORE OR LESS, determine the precise line of beauty in the sentence, as well as in the statute! How do the slight touches of the chisel, the pencil, the pen, the fiddle-stick, _et ctera_, --give the true swell, which gives the true pleasure! --O my countrymen; --be nice; --be cautious of your language; --and never, O! never let it be forgotten upon what small particles your eloquence and your fame depend. ----"My sister, mayhap," quoth my uncle _Toby_, "does not choose to let a man come so near her ****." Make this dash, --'tis an Aposiopesis. --Take the dash away, and write _Backside_, ----'tis Bawdy. --Scratch Backside out, and put _Cover'd way_ in, 'tis a Metaphor; --and, I dare say, as fortification ran so much in my uncle _Toby's_ head, that if he had been left to have added one word to the sentence, ----that word was it. But whether that was the case or not the case; --or whether the snapping of my father's tobacco-pipe, so critically, happened through accident or anger, will be seen in due time.

'What can they be doing, brother?' said my father. 'I think,' replied my uncle Toby, taking, as I told you, his pipe from his mouth, and striking the ashes out of it; - 'I think it would not be amiss, brother, if we rung the bell.' 'Pray, what's all that racket over our heads, Obadiah?' quoth my father. 'Sir,' answered Obadiah with a bow, 'my Mistress is taken very badly.' 'And where's Susannah running to down the garden?' 'Sir, she is running into the town,' replied Obadiah, 'to fetch the old midwife.' 'Then saddle a horse,' quoth my father, 'and go directly for Dr. Slop, the man-midwife, and let him know your mistress is fallen into labour - and that I desire him to return with you speedily.' 'It is very strange,' said my father to my uncle Toby, as Obadiah shut the door, - 'when there is an expert such as Dr. Slop so near, that my wife should persist so obstinately in trusting the life of my child to the ignorance of an old woman; - and not only the life of my child, but her own life, and with it the lives of all the children I might have in the future.' 'Mayhap, brother,' replied my uncle Toby, 'she does it to save the expense.' 'A pudding's end!' replied my father; 'the Doctor must be paid the same for inaction as action, - if not more, to keep him happy.' 'Then it can only be out of Modesty,' quoth my uncle Toby, in the simplicity of his heart. 'I dare say she does not care to let a man come so near her ****.' I will not say whether my uncle Toby had completed the sentence or not; but if he had not fully arrived at its end, - then the world stands indebted to the sudden snapping of my father's tobacco-pipe for one of the neatest examples of that ornamental figure in oratory, the Aposiopesis. How the slight touches of the chisel, the pencil, the pen, the fiddle-stick, et cetera, give true pleasure! - O my countrymen - be cautious of your language; and never, O! never forget upon what small particles your eloquence and your fame depend. 'My sister, mayhap,' quoth my uncle Toby, 'does not choose to let a man come so near her ****.' Make this row of stars, and 'tis an Aposiopesis. Take it away, and write 'Backside'; 'tis Bawdy. - Scratch 'Backside' out, and put 'Covered way' in, 'tis a Metaphor; - and, I dare say, as fortification ran so much in my uncle Toby's head, that word was the one he would have added. But whether that was the case or no; - or whether the snapping of my father's tobacco-pipe happened through accident or anger, will be seen in due time.

Tristram Shandy

Book 2 - Chapter 6

At the end of the last chapter, my father and my uncle _Toby_ were left both standing, like _Brutus_ and _Cassius_, at the close of the scene, making up their accounts. As my father spoke the three last words, ----he sat down; --my uncle _Toby_ exactly followed his example, only, that before he took his chair, he rung the bell, to order Corporal _Trim_, who was in waiting, to step home for _Stevinus_: --my uncle _Toby's_ house being no farther off than the opposite side of the way. Some men would have dropped the subject of _Stevinus_; ----but my uncle _Toby_ had no resentment in his heart, and he went on with the subject, to shew my father that he had none. Your sudden appearance, Dr. _Slop_, quoth my uncle, resuming the discourse, instantly brought _Stevinus_ into my head. (My father, you may be sure, did not offer to lay any more wagers upon _Stevinus's_ head.) ----Because, continued my uncle _Toby_, the celebrated sailing chariot, which belonged to Prince _Maurice_, and was of such wonderful contrivance and velocity, as to carry half a dozen people thirty _German_ miles, in I don't know how few minutes, ----was invented by _Stevinus_, that great mathematician and engineer. You might have spared your servant the trouble, quoth Dr. _Slop_ (as the fellow is lame) of going for _Stevinus's_ account of it, because in my return from _Leyden_ thro' the _Hague_, I walked as far as _Schevling_, which is two long miles, on purpose to take a view of it. That's nothing, replied my uncle _Toby_, to what the learned _Peireskius_ did, who walked a matter of five hundred miles, reckoning from _Paris_ to _Schevling_, and from _Schevling_ to _Paris_ back again, in order to see it, --and nothing else. Some men cannot bear to be out-gone. The more fool _Peireskius_, replied Dr. _Slop_. But mark, 'twas out of no contempt of _Peireskius_ at all; ----but that _Peireskius's_ indefatigable labour in trudging so far on foot, out of love for the sciences, reduced the exploit of Dr. _Slop_, in that affair, to nothing: --the more fool _Peireskius_, said he again. --Why so? --replied my father, taking his brother's part, not only to make reparation as fast as he could for the insult he had given him, which sat still upon my father's mind; ----but partly, that my father began really to interest himself in the discourse. ----Why so? ----said he. Why is _Peireskius_, or any man else, to be abused for an appetite for that, or any other morsel of sound knowledge: For notwithstanding I know nothing of the chariot in question, continued he, the inventor of it must have had a very mechanical head; and tho' I cannot guess upon what principles of philosophy he has atchieved it; --yet certainly his machine has been constructed upon solid ones, be they what they will, or it could not have answered at the rate my brother mentions. It answered, replied my uncle _Toby_, as well, if not better; for, as _Peireskius_ elegantly expresses it, speaking of the velocity of its motion, _Tam citus erat, quam erat ventus_; which, unless I have forgot my Latin, is, _that it was as swift as the wind itself_. But pray, Dr. _Slop_, quoth my father, interrupting my uncle (tho' not without begging pardon for it at the same time) upon what principles was this self-same chariot set a-going? --Upon very pretty principles to be sure, replied Dr. _Slop_: --And I have often wondered, continued he, evading the question, why none of our gentry, who live upon large plains like this of ours, --(especially they whose wives are not past child-bearing) attempt nothing of this kind; for it would not only be infinitely expeditious upon sudden calls, to which the sex is subject, --if the wind only served, --but would be excellent good husbandry to make use of the winds, which cost nothing, and which eat nothing, rather than horses, which (the devil take 'em) both cost and eat a great deal. For that very reason, replied my father, "Because they cost nothing, and because they eat nothing," --the scheme is bad; --it is the consumption of our products, as well as the manufactures of them, which gives bread to the hungry, circulates trade, --brings in money, and supports the value of our lands: --and tho', I own, if I was a Prince, I would generously recompense the scientifick head which brought forth such contrivances; --yet I would as peremptorily suppress the use of them. My father here had got into his element, ----and was going on as prosperously with his dissertation upon trade, as my uncle _Toby_ had before, upon his of fortification; --but to the loss of much sound knowledge, the destinies in the morning had decreed that no dissertation of any kind should be spun by my father that day, ----for as he opened his mouth to begin the next sentence.

As my father spoke the last three words, he sat down. My uncle Toby rung the bell, to order Corporal Trim to step home for Stevinus: - my uncle's house being not far away. Some men would have dropped the subject of Stevinus; but my uncle Toby went on with the subject, to show my father that he bore him no resentment. 'Your sudden appearance, Dr. Slop,' quoth he, 'instantly brought Stevinus into my head, because the celebrated sailing chariot belonging to Prince Maurice, which carried half a dozen people thirty miles in I don't know how few minutes, was invented by Stevinus, that great mathematician and engineer.' 'You might have spared your servant the trouble of going for Stevinus's account of it,' quoth Dr. Slop, 'because in my return from Leyden through the Hague, I walked as far as Schevling, which is two long miles, to view it.' 'That's nothing,' replied my uncle Toby. 'The learned Peireskius walked five hundred miles, from Paris to Schevling and back again, simply in order to see it.' Some men cannot bear to be out-done. 'The more fool Peireskius,' replied Dr. Slop. 'Why so?' replied my father, interested in the discussion. - 'Why is Peireskius to be abused for having an appetite for knowledge? For although I know nothing of the sailing chariot in question, and I cannot guess upon what principles it is made - yet certainly the machine was constructed upon solid ones, or it could not have worked as well as my brother says.' 'It worked,' replied my uncle Toby, 'as well, if not better; for, as Peireskius said, it was as swift as the wind itself.' 'Pray, Dr. Slop,' quoth my father, 'upon what principles was this chariot set a-going?' 'Upon very pretty principles to be sure,' replied Dr. Slop, evading the question: 'and I have often wondered why none of our gentry, who live upon plains, attempt nothing of this kind; for 'twould be excellent good husbandry to make use of the winds, which cost nothing, and which eat nothing, rather than horses, which (the devil take 'em) both cost and eat a great deal.' 'For that very reason,' replied my father, 'the scheme is bad. It is the consumption of our products, as well as the manufacture of them, which gives bread to the hungry, circulates trade, and brings in money. - If I was a Prince, though I would generously reward the scientist who invented such things, yet I would also suppress the use of them.' My father here had got into his element, and was going on as prosperously with his dissertation upon trade, as my uncle Toby had upon fortification; - but the destinies had decreed that no speech should be spun by my father that day, for as he opened his mouth to begin the next sentence,

Tristram Shandy

Book 2 - Chapter 14

----See if he is not cutting it into slips, and giving them about him to light their pipes! ----'Tis abominable, answered _Didius_; it should not go unnoticed, said doctor _Kysarcius_------ [-->] he was of the _Kysarcii_ of the Low Countries. Methinks, said _Didius_, half rising from his chair, in order to remove a bottle and a tall decanter, which stood in a direct line betwixt him and _Yorick_----you might have spared this sarcastic stroke, and have hit upon a more proper place, Mr. _Yorick_--or at least upon a more proper occasion to have shewn your contempt of what we have been about: If the sermon is of no better worth than to light pipes with----'twas certainly, Sir, not good enough to be preached before so learned a body; and if 'twas good enough to be preached before so learned a body----'twas certainly, Sir, too good to light their pipes with afterwards. ----I have got him fast hung up, quoth _Didius_ to himself, upon one of the two horns of my dilemma----let him get off as he can. I have undergone such unspeakable torments, in bringing forth this sermon, quoth _Yorick_, upon this occasion------that I declare, _Didius_, I would suffer martyrdom--and if it was possible my horse with me, a thousand times over, before I would sit down and make such another: I was delivered of it at the wrong end of me----it came from my head instead of my heart------and it is for the pain it gave me, both in the writing and preaching of it, that I revenge myself of it, in this manner --To preach, to shew the extent of our reading, or the subtleties of our wit--to parade in the eyes of the vulgar with the beggarly accounts of a little learning, tinsel'd over with a few words which glitter, but convey little light and less warmth----is a dishonest use of the poor single half hour in a week which is put into our hands--'Tis not preaching the gospel--but ourselves ----For my own part, continued _Yorick_, I had rather direct five words point-blank to the heart.-- As _Yorick_ pronounced the word _point-blank_, my uncle _Toby_ rose up to say something upon projectiles----when a single word and no more uttered from the opposite side of the table drew every one's ears towards it--a word of all others in the dictionary the last in that place to be expected--a word I am ashamed to write--yet must be written----must be read--illegal--uncanonical--guess ten thousand guesses, multiplied into themselves--rack--torture your invention for ever, you're where you was --------In short, I'll tell it in the next chapter.

'See if he is not cutting it into slips, and handing them around to light their pipes!' ''Tis abominable,' answered Didius. 'It should not go unnoticed,' said doctor Kysarcius. 'Methinks,' said Didius, half rising from his chair, to remove a bottle which stood betwixt him and Yorick - 'you might have spared this sarcastic stroke, and have hit upon a more proper place, Mr. Yorick, to have shown your contempt of us. If the sermon is of no better worth than to light pipes with - 'twas certainly, Sir, not good enough to be preached before so learned an assembly; and if 'twas good enough to be preached before us, 'twas certainly too good to light pipes with afterwards.' Didius thought, 'I have got him hung upon the horns of my dilemma - let him get off as he can.' 'I have undergone such unspeakable torments, in bringing forth this sermon,' quoth Yorick, 'that I declare, Didius, I would suffer martyrdom before I would sit down and make such another. It came from my head instead of my heart - and it is for the pain it gave me, that I revenge myself on it in this manner. To preach - to parade before vulgar eyes our beggarly learning, tinselled over with a few words which glitter, but convey little light and less warmth - 'tis not preaching the gospel - but ourselves. For my own part,' continued he, 'I had rather direct five words point-blank to the heart.' As Yorick pronounced the word point-blank, my uncle Toby rose up to say something upon projectiles - when a single word uttered from the opposite side of the table drew everyone's ears - a word of all others in the dictionary the last to be expected - a word I am ashamed to write - yet must be written - guess ten thousand guesses, you'll never get there- In short, I'll tell it in the next chapter.

Tristram Shandy

Book 4 - Chapter 26

----"which words being heard by all the soldiers which were there, divers of them being inwardly terrified, did shrink back and make room for the assailant: all this did _Gymnast_ very well remark and consider; and therefore, making as if he would have alighted from off his horse, as he was poising himself on the mounting side, he most nimbly (with his short sword by his thigh) shifting his feet in the stirrup, and performing the stirrup-leather feat, whereby, after the inclining of his body downwards, he forthwith launched himself aloft into the air, and placed both his feet together upon the saddle, standing upright, with his back turned towards his horse's head, --Now (said he) my case goes forward. Then suddenly in the same posture wherein he was, he fetched a gambol upon one foot, and turning to the left-hand, failed not to carry his body perfectly round, just into his former position, without missing one jot. ----Ha! said _Tripet_, I will not do that at this time, --and not without cause. Well, said _Gymnast_, I have failed, --I will undo this leap; then with a marvellous strength and agility, turning towards the right-hand, he fetched another frisking gambol as before; which done, he set his right-hand thumb upon the bow of the saddle, raised himself up, and sprung into the air, poising and upholding his whole weight upon the muscle and nerve of the said thumb, and so turned and whirled himself about three times: at the fourth, reversing his body, and overturning it upside down, and foreside back, without _touching anything_, he brought himself betwixt the horse's two ears, and then giving himself a jerking swing, he seated himself upon the crupper----" (This can't be fighting, said my uncle _Toby_. ----The corporal shook his head at it. ----Have patience, said _Yorick_.) "Then (_Tripet_) pass'd his right leg over his saddle, and placed himself _en croup_. --But, said he, 'twere better for me to get into the saddle; then putting the thumbs of both hands upon the crupper before him, and thereupon leaning himself, as upon the only supporters of his body, he incontinently turned heels over head in the air, and strait found himself betwixt the bow of the saddle in a tolerable seat; then springing into the air with a summerset, he turned him about like a wind-mill, and made above a hundred frisks, turns, and demi-pommadas." --Good God! cried _Trim_, losing all patience, --one home thrust of a bayonet is worth it all. ----I think so too, replied _Yorick_.---- I am of a contrary opinion, quoth my father.

- 'which words being heard by all the soldiers there, many of them being inwardly terrified, did shrink back and make room for the assailant. All this did Gymnast consider; and therefore, acting as if he was alighting from his horse, as he was poising himself on the mounting side, he most nimbly (with his short sword by his thigh) shifted his feet in the stirrup, and performed the stirrup-leather feat, whereby, after the inclining of his body downwards, he launched himself aloft into the air, and placed both his feet together upon the saddle, standing upright with his back turned towards his horse's head. '"Now," (said he) "my case goes forward." Then suddenly, in the same posture, he performed a gambol upon one foot, and turning to the left, carried his body perfectly round into his former position, without missing one jot. '"Ha!" said Tripet, "I will not do that, - and not without cause." '"Well," said Gymnast, "I have failed. I will undo this leap;" then with marvellous strength and agility, turning to the right, he performed another frisking gambol as before; then he set his right thumb upon the bow of the saddle, raised himself up, and sprung into the air, poising his whole weight upon the said thumb, and so turned and whirled himself about three times. At the fourth turn, reversing his body, and overturning it upside down and foreside back without touching anything, he brought himself betwixt the horse's ears, and then with a jerking swing, he seated himself upon the crupper-' ('This can't be fighting,' said my uncle Toby. The corporal shook his head. 'Have patience,' said Yorick.) 'Then Tripet passed his right leg over his saddle, and placed himself en croup. '"But," said he, "'twere better for me to get into the saddle;" then putting the thumbs of both hands upon the crupper, and leaning on them, as the only supporters of his body, he turned heels over head, and found himself betwixt the bow of the saddle; then springing into the air with a somersault, he turned about like a windmill, and made above a hundred frisks, turns, and demi-pommadas-' 'Good God!' cried Trim, losing all patience; 'one home thrust of a bayonet is worth it all.' 'I think so too,' replied Yorick. 'I am of a contrary opinion,' quoth my father.

Tristram Shandy

Book 5 - Chapter 29

--No doubt, Sir, --there is a whole chapter wanting here--and a chasm of ten pages made in the book by it--but the bookbinder is neither a fool, or a knave, or a puppy--nor is the book a jot more imperfect (at least upon that score)----but, on the contrary, the book is more perfect and complete by wanting the chapter, than having it, as I shall demonstrate to your reverences in this manner. --I question first, by the bye, whether the same experiment might not be made as successfully upon sundry other chapters------but there is no end, an' please your reverences, in trying experiments upon chapters------we have had enough of it ----So there's an end of that matter. But before I begin my demonstration, let me only tell you, that the chapter which I have torn out, and which otherwise you would all have been reading just now, instead of this----was the description of my father's, my uncle _Toby's_, _Trim's_, and _Obadiah's_ setting out and journeying to the visitation at ****. We'll go in the coach, said my father --Prithee, have the arms been altered, _Obadiah?_ --It would have made my story much better to have begun with telling you, that at the time my mother's arms were added to the _Shandy's_, when the coach was re-painted upon my father's marriage, it had so fallen out, that the coach-painter, whether by performing all his works with the left-hand, like _Turpilius_ the _Roman_, or _Hans Holbein_ of _Basil_----or whether 'twas more from the blunder of his head than hand----or whether, lastly, it was from the sinister turn which every thing relating to our family was apt to take----it so fell out, however, to our reproach, that instead of the _bend-dexter_, which since _Harry_ the Eighth's reign was honestly our due------a _bend-sinister_, by some of these fatalities, had been drawn quite across the field of the _Shandy_ arms. 'Tis scarce credible that the mind of so wise a man as my father was, could be so much incommoded with so small a matter. The word coach--let it be whose it would--or coach-man, or coach-horse, or coach-hire, could never be named in the family, but he constantly complained of carrying this vile mark of illegitimacy upon the door of his own; he never once was able to step into the coach, or out of it, without turning round to take a view of the arms, and making a vow at the same time, that it was the last time he would ever set his foot in it again, till the _bend-sinister_ was taken out--but like the affair of the hinge, it was one of the many things which the _Destinies_ had set down in their books ever to be grumbled at (and in wiser families than ours)----but never to be mended. --Has the _bend-sinister_ been brush'd out, I say? said my father. ----There has been nothing brush'd out, Sir, answered _Obadiah_, but the lining. We'll go o'horseback, said my father, turning to _Yorick_. ----Of all things in the world, except politicks, the clergy know the least of heraldry, said _Yorick_. --No matter for that, cried my father ----I should be sorry to appear with a blot in my escutcheon before them. --Never mind the _bend-sinister_, said my uncle _Toby_, putting on his tye-wig. ----No, indeed, said my father--you may go with my aunt _Dinah_ to a visitation with a _bend-sinister_, if you think fit --My poor uncle _Toby_ blush'd. My father was vexed at himself. ------No----my dear brother _Toby_, said my father, changing his tone----but the damp of the coach-lining about my loins, may give me the sciatica again, as it did _December_, _January_, and _February_ last _winter_--so if you please you shall ride my wife's pad----and as you are to preach, _Yorick_, you had better make the best of your way before----and leave me to take care of my brother _Toby_, and to follow at our own rates. Now the chapter I was obliged to tear out, was the description of this cavalcade, in which Corporal _Trim_ and _Obadiah_, upon two coach-horses a-breast, led the way as slow as a patrole----whilst my uncle _Toby_, in his laced regimentals and tye-wig, kept his rank with my father, in deep roads and dissertations alternately upon the advantage of learning and arms, as each could get the start. --But the painting of this journey, upon reviewing it, appears to be so much above the stile and manner of anything else I have been able to paint in this book, that it could not have remained in it, without depreciating every other scene; and destroying at the same time that necessary equipoise and balance, (whether of good or bad) betwixt chapter and chapter, from whence the just proportions and harmony of the whole work results. For my own part, I am but just set up in the business, so know little about it--but, in my opinion, to write a book is for all the world like humming a song--but in tune with yourself, madam, 'tis no matter how high or how low you take it. --This is the reason, may it please your reverences, that some of the lowest and flattest compositions pass off very well----(as _Yorick_ told my uncle _Toby_ one night) by siege. ----My uncle _Toby_ looked brisk at the sound of the word _siege_, but could make neither head or tail of it. I'm to preach at court next Sunday, said _Homenas_----run over my notes----so I humm'd over doctor _Homenas's_ notes--the modulation's very well----'twill do, _Homenas_, if it holds on at this rate----so on I humm'd----and a tolerable tune I thought it was; and to this hour, may it please your reverences, had never found out how low, how flat, how spiritless and jejune it was, but that all of a sudden, up started an air in the middle of it, so fine, so rich, so heavenly, --it carried my soul up with it into the other world; now had I (as _Montaigne_ complained in a parallel accident)--had I found the declivity easy, or the ascent accessible------certes I had been outwitted. ------Your notes, _Homenas_, I should have said, are good notes; ----but it was so perpendicular a precipice------so wholly cut off from the rest of the work, that by the first note I humm'd I found myself flying into the other world, and from thence discovered the vale from whence I came, so deep, so low, and dismal, that I shall never have the heart to descend into it again. [-->] A dwarf who brings a standard along with him to measure his own size--take my word, is a dwarf in more articles than one. --And so much for tearing out of chapters.

- No doubt, Sir - there is a whole chapter (number 24) missing here - and a chasm of ten pages made in the book by it - but the bookbinder is neither a fool, or a knave, nor is the book a jot more imperfect - but, on the contrary, is more perfect by missing the chapter, than having it, as I shall demonstrate. - I question, by the bye, whether the same experiment might not be made successfully upon various other chapters - but there is no end in trying experiments upon chapters - so enough. But before I begin my demonstration, let me just tell you, that the chapter which I have torn out, and which otherwise you would be reading now, was the description of my father's, my uncle Toby's, Trim's, and Obadiah's setting out and journeying to the visit at ****. 'We'll go in the coach,' said my father - 'Prithee, has the coat of arms been altered, Obadiah?' It would have made my story much better to have begun with telling you that at the time my mother's heraldic arms were added to the Shandy's, when the coach was re-painted upon their marriage, it had so happened that the coach-painter - whether by painting all his works with the left-hand, like Hans Holbein - or whether 'twas a blunder - or the sinister turn which everything relating to our family was apt to take - it happened that, instead of the bend-dexter, which since Harry the Eighth's reign was honestly our due, a bend-sinister, the emblem of a child born out of wedlock, had been drawn across the field of the Shandy coat of arms. 'Tis scarce credible that a man as wise as my father, could be so much incommoded with so small a matter. The word coach, or coach-man, or coach-horse, could never be named, without him complaining of carrying this vile mark of illegitimacy upon his own coach; he was never able to step in or out of it, without turning round to view the arms, and vowing that it was the last time he would ever set his foot in it, till the bend-sinister was removed. But like the hinge, it was destined ever to be grumbled at, and never to be mended. 'Has the bend-sinister been brushed out?' said my father. 'No, Sir,' answered Obadiah. 'We'll go on horseback,' said my father, turning to Yorick. 'The clergy know nothing of heraldry,' said Yorick. 'No matter,' cried my father. 'Never mind the bend-sinister,' said my uncle Toby, putting on his tie-wig. 'No, indeed,' said my father. 'You may go with my aunt Dinah on a visit with a bend-sinister, if you think fit.' My poor uncle blushed. My father was vexed at himself. 'No - my dear brother,' he said, changing his tone, 'but the damp of the coach may give me the sciatica again, - so if you please, you shall ride my wife's horse - and as you are to preach, Yorick, you had better make your way before us - and we shall follow at our own rates.' Now the chapter I was obliged to tear out, was the description of this cavalcade, in which Corporal Trim and Obadiah, upon two coach-horses, slowly led the way - whilst my uncle Toby, in his laced regimentals and tie-wig, rode alongside my father. But the painting of this journey is so much above the style of anything else I have painted in this book, that it could not have remained here without depreciating every other scene; and destroying that necessary balance betwixt chapters, from which the harmony of the whole work results. I am only just set up in the business, so know little about it - but, in my opinion, to write a book is like humming a song - stay in tune with yourself, madam, no matter how high or how low you take it. 'I'm to preach at court next Sunday,' said Homenas; 'run over my notes.' So I hummed over his notes - and a tolerable tune I thought it, never noticing how low, flat, and spiritless it was, until all of a sudden, up started a melody in the middle of it, so fine, so rich, so heavenly - it carried my soul up into the other world. 'Your notes, Homenas,' I should have said, 'are good notes; - but it was so perpendicular a precipice - so cut off from the rest of the work, that I found myself flying into the other world, and discovered that the vale from which I had come was so deep and dismal, that I shall never have the heart to descend into it again.' - And so much for tearing out of chapters.

Tristram Shandy

Book 4 - Chapter 25

I have a strong propensity in me to begin this chapter very nonsensically, and I will not baulk my fancy. --Accordingly I set off thus: If the fixture of _Momus's_ glass in the human breast, according to the proposed emendation of that arch-critick, had taken place, ----first, This foolish consequence would certainly have followed, --That the very wisest and very gravest of us all, in one coin or other, must have paid window-money every day of our lives. And, secondly, That had the said glass been there set up, nothing more would have been wanting, in order to have taken a man's character, but to have taken a chair and gone softly, as you would to a dioptrical beehive, and look'd in, --view'd the soul stark naked; --observed all her motions, --her machinations; --traced all her maggots from their first engendering to their crawling forth; --watched her loose in her frisks, her gambols, her capricios; and after some notice of her more solemn deportment, consequent upon such frisks, etc. ----then taken your pen and ink and set down nothing but what you had seen, and could have sworn to: --But this is an advantage not to be had by the biographer in this planet; --in the planet _Mercury_ (belike) it may be so, if not better still for him; ----for there the intense heat of the country, which is proved by computators, from its vicinity to the sun, to be more than equal to that of red-hot iron, --must, I think, long ago have vitrified the bodies of the inhabitants, (as the efficient cause) to suit them for the climate (which is the final cause); so that betwixt them both, all the tenements of their souls, from top to bottom, may be nothing else, for aught the soundest philosophy can shew to the contrary, but one fine transparent body of clear glass (bating the umbilical knot)--so that, till the inhabitants grow old and tolerably wrinkled, whereby the rays of light, in passing through them, become so monstrously refracted, ----or return reflected from their surfaces in such transverse lines to the eye, that a man cannot be seen through; --his soul might as well, unless for mere ceremony, or the trifling advantage which the umbilical point gave her, --might, upon all other accounts, I say, as well play the fool out o'doors as in her own house. But this, as I said above, is not the case of the inhabitants of this earth; --our minds shine not through the body, but are wrapt up here in a dark covering of uncrystalized flesh and blood; so that, if we would come to the specific characters of them, we must go some other way to work. Many, in good truth, are the ways, which human wit has been forced to take, to do this thing with exactness. Some, for instance, draw all their characters with wind-instruments. --_Virgil_ takes notice of that way in the affair of _Dido_ and _neas_; --but it is as fallacious as the breath of fame; --and, moreover, bespeaks a narrow genius. I am not ignorant that the _Italians_ pretend to a mathematical exactness in their designations of one particular sort of character among them, from the _forte_ or _piano_ of a certain wind-instrument they use, --which they say is infallible. --I dare not mention the name of the instrument in this place; --'tis sufficient we have it amongst us, --but never think of making a drawing by it; --this is nigmatical, and intended to be so, at least _ad populum_: --And therefore, I beg, Madam, when you come here, that you read on as fast as you can, and never stop to make any inquiry about it. There are others again, who will draw a man's character from no other helps in the world, but merely from his evacuations; --but this often gives a very incorrect outline, --unless, indeed, you take a sketch of his repletions too; and by correcting one drawing from the other, compound one good figure out of them both. I should have no objection to this method, but that I think it must smell too strong of the lamp, --and be render'd still more operose, by forcing you to have an eye to the rest of his _Non-naturals_. ----Why the most natural actions of a man's life should be called his Non-naturals, --is another question. There are others, fourthly, who disdain every one of these expedients; --not from any fertility of their own, but from the various ways of doing it, which they have borrowed from the honourable devices which the Pentagraphic Brethren[1.3] of the brush have shewn in taking copies. --These, you must know, are your great historians. One of these you will see drawing a full-length character _against the light_; --that's illiberal, --dishonest, --and hard upon the character of the man who sits. Others, to mend the matter, will make a drawing of you in the _Camera_; --that is most unfair of all, --because, _there_ you are sure to be represented in some of your most ridiculous attitudes. To avoid all and every one of these errors in giving you my uncle _Toby's_ character, I am determined to draw it by no mechanical help whatever; ----nor shall my pencil be guided by any one wind-instrument which ever was blown upon, either on this, or on the other side of the _Alps_; --nor will I consider either his repletions or his discharges, --or touch upon his Non-naturals--but, in a word, I will draw my uncle _Toby's_ character from his HOBBY-HORSE. [Footnote 1.3: Pentagraph, an instrument to copy Prints and Pictures mechanically, and in any proportion.]

I am inclined to begin this chapter very nonsensically. - Accordingly I set off thus: If Momus's glass windows had been fixed in human breasts, as proposed by that mocking spirit of Greek mythology, so that men's thought might be laid bare; - then, the first consequence would have been, that all of us must have paid window-tax every day of our lives. And the second; that nothing more would have been necessary to examine a man's character, but to have gone softly, as you would to a beehive, and looked in, - viewed the soul stark naked; observed her movements; traced all her maggots from their hatching to their crawling forth; - watched the soul's frisks and gambols; - and then to take your pen and set down what you had seen. But this is an advantage not to be had by any biographer on this planet. In the planet Mercury, perhaps, it may be so, - for there the intense heat of the nearby sun must, I think, long ago have vitrified the bodies of the inhabitants, so that they may have fine transparent bodies of clear glass - until the inhabitants grow old and wrinkled, whereby the rays of light, in passing through them, become monstrously refracted, so that a man cannot be seen through. But here on earth our minds shine not through the body, but are wrapped up in a dark covering of uncrystallised flesh and blood; so that if we would see the characters within, we must do it some other way. Many are the ways in which human wit can do this. Some, for instance, draw all their characters with wind-instruments. Virgil notes that way in the affair of Dido and Aeneas; but it is as false as the breath of fame. I know that the Italians pretend be able to exactly measure one particular sort of character, from the forte or piano of a certain wind-instrument they use, which they say is infallible. I dare not mention the name of the instrument; it's enough that we have it amongst us. -This is enigmatical, and intended to be so. I beg, Madam, that you read on as fast as you can, and do not stop to inquire about it. There are others who will draw a man's character from his evacuations; but this often gives a very incorrect outline, unless you take a sketch of his in-goings too; and compound one good figure from them both. I should have no objection to this method, but that I think it must smell too strong of the lamp, and be made wearisome by forcing you to have an eye to his natural actions. There are others, fourthly, who disdain all these methods; not from any creativity of their own, but because they borrow the ideas of mechanical copyists. - These, you must know, are your great historians. One of these you will see drawing a full-length character against the light; that's dishonest, and hard upon the character of the man who sits. Others will make a drawing of you in the Camera Obscura - that is most unfair of all, because you are sure to be shown in your most ridiculous attitudes. To avoid all these errors in giving you my uncle Toby's character, I am determined to draw it by no mechanical help whatever; nor shall my pencil be guided by any wind-instrument; nor will I consider either his repletions or his discharges, - but in a word, I will draw my uncle Toby's character from his Hobby-Horse.

Tristram Shandy

Book 1 - Chapter 23

----Boulogne! ----hah! ----so we are all got together----debtors and sinners before heaven; a jolly set of us--but I can't stay and quaff it off with you --I'm pursued myself like a hundred devils, and shall be overtaken, before I can well change horses: ----for heaven's sake, make haste----'Tis for high-treason, quoth a very little man, whispering as low as he could to a very tall man, that stood next him ----Or else for murder; quoth the tall man ----Well thrown, _Size-ace!_ quoth I. No; quoth a third, the gentleman has been committing----. _Ah! ma chere fille!_ said I, as she tripp'd by from her matins--you look as rosy as the morning (for the sun was rising, and it made the compliment the more gracious) --No; it can't be that, quoth a fourth----(she made a curt'sy to me --I kiss'd my hand) 'tis debt, continued he: 'Tis certainly for debt; quoth a fifth; I would not pay that gentleman's debts, quoth _Ace_, for a thousand pounds; nor would I, quoth _Size_, for six times the sum --Well thrown, _Size-ace_, again! quoth I; --but I have no debt but the debt of NATURE, and I want but patience of her, and I will pay her every farthing I owe her ----How can you be so hard-hearted, MADAM, to arrest a poor traveller going along without molestation to any one upon his lawful occasions? do stop that death-looking, long-striding scoundrel of a scare-sinner, who is posting after me----he never would have followed me but for you----if it be but for a stage or two, just to give me start of him, I beseech you, madam----do, dear lady---- ----Now, in troth, 'tis a great pity, quoth mine _Irish_ host, that all this good courtship should be lost; for the young gentlewoman has been after going out of hearing of it all along.---- ----Simpleton! quoth I. ----So you have nothing _else_ in _Boulogne_ worth seeing? --By Jasus! there is the finest SEMINARY for the HUMANITIES---- --There cannot be a finer; quoth I.

- Boulogne! hah! - so we are all got together - a jolly set of debtors and sinners - but I can't stay with you - I'm pursued like a hundred devils, and shall be overtaken before I can change horses:- for heaven's sake, make haste- ''Tis for high-treason,' quoth a very little man, whispering to a tall man next to him. 'Or else for murder,' quoth the tall man. 'No', quoth a third; 'the gentleman has been committing-' 'Ah! ma chere fille!' said I, as she tripped by, 'you look as rosy as the morning,' 'No; 'tis debt,' quoth a fourth (she curtsied to me - I kissed my hand to her.) ''Tis certainly for debt,' quoth a fifth; 'I would not pay that gentleman's debts for a thousand pounds.' 'I have no debt,' quoth I, 'but the debt of Nature, and I will pay her every farthing I owe her - How can you be so hard-hearted, Madam, to arrest a poor traveller not harming anyone? do stop that death-looking, long-striding scoundrel who is following me - if only for a stage or two, just give me a head start, I beseech you, madam-' 'Now, 'tis a great pity,' quoth mine Irish host, 'that all this good courtship should be lost; for the young gentlewoman has been after going out of hearing.' 'Simpleton!' quoth I. 'So you have nothing else in Boulogne worth seeing?' 'By Jasus! there is the finest Seminary for the Humanities.' 'There cannot be a finer,' quoth I.

Tristram Shandy

Book 7 - Chapter 7

When we arrived at the Chaise-vamper's House, Both the House and the shop were shut up; it was the eighth of _September_, the nativity of the blessed Virgin _Mary_, mother of God-- ----Tantarra-ra-tan-tivi----the whole world was gone out a May-poling--frisking here--capering there----nobody cared a button for me or my remarks; so I sat me down upon a bench by the door, philosophating upon my condition: by a better fate than usually attends me, I had not waited half an hour, when the mistress came in to take the papilliotes from off her hair, before she went to the May-poles---- The _French_ women, by the bye, love May-poles, _ la folie_--that is, as much as their matins----give 'em but a May-pole, whether in _May_, _June_, _July_, or _September_--they never count the times----down it goes----'tis meat, drink, washing, and lodging to 'em----and had we but the policy, an' please your worships (as wood is a little scarce in _France_), to send them but plenty of May-poles---- The women would set them up; and when they had done, they would dance round them (and the men for company) till they were all blind. The wife of the chaise-vamper stepp'd in, I told you, to take the papilliotes from off her hair----the toilet stands still for no man----so she jerk'd off her cap, to begin with them as she open'd the door, in doing which, one of them fell upon the ground ----I instantly saw it was my own writing---- O Seigneur! cried I--you have got all my remarks upon your head, Madam! ----_J'en suis bien mortifie_, said she----'tis well, thinks I, they have stuck there--for could they have gone deeper, they would have made such confusion in a _French_ woman's noddle --She had better have gone with it unfrizled, to the day of eternity. _Tenez_--said she--so without any idea of the nature of my suffering, she took them from her curls, and put them gravely one by one into my hat----one was twisted this way----another twisted that----ey! by my faith; and when they are published, quoth I,---- They will be worse twisted still.

When we arrived at the Chaise-vamper's house, it was shut up; it was the eighth of September, the nativity of the blessed Virgin Mary. Tantarra-ra-tan-tivi - the whole world was gone out a Maypoling - frisking here - capering there - nobody cared a button for me or my remarks; so I sat down upon a bench by the door, philosophating upon my condition. I had not waited half an hour, when the mistress came in to take the curling-papers from her hair, before she went to the Maypoles- The French women, by the bye, love Maypoles, at any time of year - give 'em but a Maypole, down it goes - 'tis meat, drink, washing, and lodging to 'em - and if we but had the policy to send plenty of Maypoles to France, the women would dance round them (with the men for company) till they were all blind. The wife of the chaise-vamper came in, and jerked off her cap, to begin removing her curling-papers from her hair. One of them fell upon the ground - I instantly saw it was my writing- 'O! you have got my remarks upon your head, Madam!' cried I. 'J'en suis bien mortifie,' said she. 'Twas as well they stuck there - for if they had gone deeper, they would have made such confusion in a Frenchwoman's noddle that she would have been better off unfrizzled. 'Tenez,' said she - and taking them from her curls, she put them gravely one by one into my hat - one twisted this way - and one that- 'By my faith,' quoth I, 'when they are published, they will be worse twisted still.'

Tristram Shandy

Book 7 - Chapter 38

As the point was that night agreed, or rather determined, that my mother should lye-in of me in the country, she took her measures accordingly; for which purpose, when she was three days, or thereabouts, gone with child, she began to cast her eyes upon the midwife, whom you have so often heard me mention; and before the week was well got round, as the famous Dr. _Manningham_ was not to be had, she had come to a final determination in her mind, ----notwithstanding there was a scientific operator within so near a call as eight miles of us, and who, moreover, had expressly wrote a five shillings book upon the subject of midwifery, in which he had exposed, not only the blunders of the sisterhood itself, ----but had likewise superadded many curious improvements for the quicker extraction of the ftus in cross births, and some other cases of danger, which belay us in getting into the world; notwithstanding all this, my mother, I say, was absolutely determined to trust her life, and mine with it, into no soul's hand but this old woman's only. --Now this I like; --when we cannot get at the very thing we wish----never to take up with the next best in degree to it: --no; that's pitiful beyond description; --it is no more than a week from this very day, in which I am now writing this book for the edification of the world; --which is _March_ 9, 1759, ----that my dear, dear _Jenny_, observing I looked a little grave, as she stood cheapening a silk of five-and-twenty shillings a yard, --told the mercer, she was sorry she had given him so much trouble; --and immediately went and bought herself a yard-wide stuff of tenpence a yard. --'Tis the duplication of one and the same greatness of soul; only what lessened the honour of it, somewhat, in my mother's case, was, that she could not heroine it into so violent and hazardous an extreme, as one in her situation might have wished, because the old widwife had really some little claim to be depended upon, --as much, at least, as success could give her; having, in the course of her practice of near twenty years in the parish, brought every mother's son of them into the world without any one slip or accident which could fairly be laid to her account. These facts, tho' they had their weight, yet did not altogether satisfy some few scruples and uneasinesses which hung upon my father's spirits in relation to this choice. --To say nothing of the natural workings of humanity and justice--or of the yearnings of parental and connubial love, all which prompted him to leave as little to hazard as possible in a case of this kind; ----he felt himself concerned in a particular manner, that all should go right in the present case; --from the accumulated sorrow he lay open to, should any evil betide his wife and child in lying-in at _Shandy-Hall_. ----He knew the world judged by events, and would add to his afflictions in such a misfortune, by loading him with the whole blame of it. ----"Alas, o'day; --had Mrs. _Shandy_, poor gentlewoman! had but her wish in going up to town just to lye-in and come down again; --which, they say, she begged and prayed for upon her bare knees, ----and which, in my opinion, considering the fortune which Mr. _Shandy_ got with her, --was no such mighty matter to have complied with, the lady and her babe might both of them have been alive at this hour." This exclamation, my father knew, was unanswerable; --and yet, it was not merely to shelter himself, --nor was it altogether for the care of his offspring and wife that he seemed so extremely anxious about this point; --my father had extensive views of things, ----and stood moreover, as he thought, deeply concerned in it for the publick good, from the dread he entertained of the bad uses an ill-fated instance might be put to. He was very sensible that all political writers upon the subject had unanimously agreed and lamented, from the beginning of Queen _Elizabeth's_ reign down to his own time, that the current of men and money towards the metropolis, upon one frivolous errand or another, --set in so strong, --as to become dangerous to our civil rights, --though, by the bye, ----a _current_ was not the image he took most delight in, --a _distemper_ was here his favourite metaphor, and he would run it down into a perfect allegory, by maintaining it was identically the same in the body national as in the body natural where the blood and spirits were driven up into the head faster than they could find their ways down; ----a stoppage of circulation must ensue, which was death in both cases. There was little danger, he would say, of losing our liberties by _French_ politicks or _French_ invasions; ----nor was he so much in pain of a consumption from the mass of corrupted matter and ulcerated humours in our constitution, which he hoped was not so bad as it was imagined; --but he verily feared, that in some violent push, we should go off, all at once, in a state-apoplexy; --and then he would say, _The Lord have mercy upon us all_. My father was never able to give the history of this distemper, --without the remedy along with it. "Was I an absolute prince," he would say, pulling up his breeches with both his hands, as he rose from his arm-chair, "I would appoint able judges, at every avenue of my metropolis, who should take cognizance of every fool's business who came there; --and if, upon a fair and candid hearing, it appeared not of weight sufficient to leave his own home, and come up, bag and baggage, with his wife and children, farmer's sons, &c., &c., at his backside, they should be all sent back, from constable to constable, like vagrants as they were, to the place of their legal settlements. By this means I shall take care, that my metropolis totter'd not thro' its own weight; --that the head be no longer too big for the body; --that the extremes, now wasted and pinn'd in, be restored to their due share of nourishment, and regain with it their natural strength and beauty: --I would effectually provide, That the meadows and corn-fields of my dominions, should laugh and sing; --that good chear and hospitality flourish once more; --and that such weight and influence be put thereby into the hands of the Squirality of my kingdom, as should counterpoise what I perceive my Nobility are now taking from them. "Why are there so few palaces and gentlemen's seats," he would ask, with some emotion, as he walked across the room, "throughout so many delicious provinces in _France?_ Whence is it that the few remaining _Chateaus_ amongst them are so dismantled, --so unfurnished, and in so ruinous and desolate a condition? ----Because, Sir," (he would say) "in that kingdom no man has any country-interest to support; --the little interest of any kind which any man has anywhere in it, is concentrated in the court, and the looks of the Grand Monarch: by the sunshine of whose countenance, or the clouds which pass across it, every _French_ man lives or dies." Another political reason which prompted my father so strongly to guard against the least evil accident in my mother's lying-in in the country, ----was, That any such instance would infallibly throw a balance of power, too great already, into the weaker vessels of the gentry, in his own, or higher stations; ----which, with the many other usurped rights which that part of the constitution was hourly establishing, --would, in the end, prove fatal to the monarchical system of domestick government established in the first creation of things by God. In this point he was entirely of Sir _Robert Filmer's_ opinion, That the plans and institutions of the greatest monarchies in the eastern parts of the world were, originally, all stolen from that admirable pattern and prototype of this household and paternal power; --which, for a century, he said, and more, had gradually been degenerating away into a mix'd government; ----the form of which, however desirable in great combinations of the species, ----was very troublesome in small ones, --and seldom produced anything, that he saw, but sorrow and confusion. For all these reasons, private and publick, put together, --my father was for having the man-midwife by all means, --my mother by no means. My father begg'd and intreated she would for once recede from her prerogative in this matter, and suffer him to choose for her; --my mother, on the contrary, insisted upon her privilege in this matter, to choose for herself, --and have no mortal's help but the old woman's. --What could my father do? He was almost at his wit's end; ----talked it over with her in all moods; --placed his arguments in all lights; --argued the matter with her like a christian, --like a heathen, --like a husband, --like a father, --like a patriot, --like a man: --My mother answered everything only like a woman; which was a little hard upon her; --for as she could not assume and fight it out behind such a variety of characters, --'twas no fair match: --'twas seven to one. --What could my mother do? ----She had the advantage (otherwise she had been certainly overpowered) of a small reinforcement of chagrin personal at the bottom, which bore her up, and enabled her to dispute the affair with my father with so equal an advantage, ----that both sides sung _Te Deum_. In a word, my mother was to have the old woman, --and the operator was to have licence to drink a bottle of wine with my father and my uncle _Toby Shandy_ in the back parlour, --for which he was to be paid five guineas. I must beg leave, before I finish this chapter, to enter a caveat in the breast of my fair reader; --and it is this, ----Not to take it absolutely for granted, from an unguarded word or two which I have dropp'd in it, ----"That I am a married man." --I own, the tender appellation of my dear, dear _Jenny_, --with some other strokes of conjugal knowledge, interspersed here and there, might, naturally enough, have misled the most candid judge in the world into such a determination against me. --All I plead for, in this case, Madam, is strict justice, and that you do so much of it, to me as well as to yourself, --as not to prejudge, or receive such an impression of me, till you have better evidence, than, I am positive, at present can be produced against me. --Not that I can be so vain or unreasonable, Madam, as to desire you should therefore think, that my dear, dear _Jenny_ is my kept mistress; --no, --that would be flattering my character in the other extreme, and giving it an air of freedom, which, perhaps, it has no kind of right to. All I contend for, is the utter impossibility, for some volumes, that you, or the most penetrating spirit upon earth, should know how this matter really stands. --It is not impossible, but that my dear, dear _Jenny!_ tender as the appellation is, may be my child. ----Consider, --I was born in the year eighteen. --Nor is there anything unnatural or extravagant in the supposition, that my dear _Jenny_ may be my friend. --Friend! --My friend. --Surely, Madam, a friendship between the two sexes may subsist, and be supported without ------Fy! Mr. _Shandy_: --Without anything, Madam, but that tender and delicious sentiment, which ever mixes in friendship, where there is a difference of sex. Let me intreat you to study the pure and sentimental parts of the best _French_ Romances; --it will really, Madam, astonish you to see with what a variety of chaste expressions this delicious sentiment, which I have the honour to speak of, is dress'd out.

As it was that night agreed, or rather determined, that my mother should lie-in with me at home in the country, she planned accordingly. When she was three days, or thereabouts, gone with child, she began to think about the midwife, whom you have so often heard me mention; and before the week was through, she had come to a decision; - even though there was a scientific operator within eight miles of us, who had wrote a five shilling book upon midwifery, in which he had not only exposed the blunders of midwives, but had added many curious improvements for the quicker extraction of the foetus in cases of danger. Despite this, my mother was absolutely determined to trust her life, and mine with it, into the old woman's hand only. - Now this I like; when we cannot get the exact thing we wish, never to make do with the next best: - no; that's pitiful beyond description; it was only a week ago from this very day, - which is March 9, 1759 - that my dear, dear Jenny, observing I looked a little grave, as she stood fingering a silk at five-and-twenty shillings a yard, told the mercer she was sorry she had given him so much trouble; and immediately went and bought herself stuff at tenpence a yard. 'Tis the same greatness of soul; only in my mother's case, she could not heroine it as she might have wished, because the old midwife had really some claim to be depended upon, having had near twenty years' success in the parish, without one accident which could be laid to her account. Nevertheless, my father had some uneasiness about this choice. Quite apart from his love for his family, he felt himself particularly concerned that all should go right in this case; - because of the extra sorrow he lay open to, should any evil befall his wife and child in lying-in at Shandy-Hall. He knew that in such a misfortune, the world would add to his afflictions by loading him with the whole blame of it. - 'Alas, had Mrs. Shandy, poor lady! only had her wish of going up to town to lie-in, which, they say, she begged for upon her knees, and which considering the fortune which Mr. Shandy got with her, was no great matter - the lady and her babe might both have been alive at this hour.' This, my father knew, would be unanswerable. Yet it was not merely to shelter himself, nor through care for his offspring and wife, that he was so extremely anxious about this point. My father had extensive views of things, and dreaded setting a bad example to the public. He was aware that all political writers had agreed and lamented for centuries that the current of men and money towards the metropolis, upon one frivolous errand or another, was so great as to become dangerous to our civil rights, - though, by the bye, a current was not the image he preferred: a distemper was here his favourite metaphor. He would turn it into a perfect allegory, by maintaining that in the body national, just as in the body natural, when the blood was driven up into the head faster than it could find its way down, the circulation must stop, and death follow. There was little danger, he would say, of French invasions; nor was he pained by corruption in our constitution, which he hoped was not so bad as was imagined; but he feared that in some violent push, we should go off, all at once, in a state-apoplexy. My father was never able to give the history of this distemper, without the remedy along with it. 'If I were an absolute monarch,' he would say, hitching up his breeches as he rose from his arm-chair, 'I would appoint judges, at every avenue of my metropolis, who should note every fool's business who came there; and if it was not important enough to leave his own home, they should be all sent back, like vagrants, to the place of origin. By this means I should take care that my metropolis did not totter through its own weight. The head should be no longer too big for the body; the limbs should regain their natural strength. Good cheer and hospitality should flourish once more; and country Squires acquire more influence. 'Why are there so few palaces and gentlemen's seats in the French provinces?' he would continue, with some emotion. 'Why are the few remaining Chateaus in so ruinous a condition? Because, Sir, in that kingdom all interest is concentrated in the court, and the looks of the Grand Monarch: by whose moods every Frenchman lives or dies.' Another political reason which prompted my father to guard against the least evil accident in my mother's lying-in in the country, was that any such event would throw a balance of power into the weaker vessels of the gentry. This would, in the end, prove fatal to the monarchical system of domestic government established in the first creation of things by God. In this point he was entirely of Sir Robert Filmer's opinion, that the institutions of the greatest monarchies in the eastern parts of the world were, originally, all stolen from that admirable prototype of Great Britain; which, for a century, he said, had gradually been degenerating into a mixed government, which seldom produced anything but sorrow and confusion. For all these reasons, my father was for having the man-midwife by all means, - my mother by no means. My father begged she would for once give up her prerogative in this matter, and let him choose for her; - my mother, on the contrary, insisted upon her privilege to choose for herself, and have no help but the old woman's. What could my father do? He was almost at his wit's end; talked it over with her in all moods; argued the matter with her like a Christian, - like a heathen, - like a husband, - like a father, - like a patriot, - like a man. My mother answered everything only like a woman; which was a little hard upon her; for as she could not fight it out behind such a variety of characters, 'twas no fair match: - 'twas seven to one. What could my mother do? She had the advantage of a small reinforcement of personal chagrin, which bore her up, and enabled her to dispute the affair with my father on equal terms. In a word, my mother was to have the old woman, and the man-midwife was to have licence to drink a bottle of wine with my father and my uncle Toby in the back parlour, - for which he was to be paid five guineas. Before I finish this chapter, I must warn my fair reader not to take it for granted, from an unguarded word or two which I have dropped in, that I am a married man. The tender mention of my dear, dear Jenny, with some other touches of conjugal knowledge here and there, might have misled the most candid judge into such a presumption. All I plead for, Madam, is strict justice: do not prejudge till you have better evidence than you have at present. Not that I wish you to think that my dear, dear Jenny is my kept mistress; - no, that would be flattering my character in the other extreme, and giving it a freedom, which, perhaps, it has no right to. All I aim for, is the utter impossibility, for some volumes, that you should know how this matter really stands. For my dear, dear Jenny! may perhaps be my child. Consider - I was born in the year 1718. - Nor is there anything unnatural in the idea that my dear Jenny may be my friend. - Friend! - My friend. Surely, Madam, a friendship between the two sexes may exist without- - Fie! Mr. Shandy. - Without anything, Madam, but that tender and delicious sentiment which always mixes in friendship, where there is a difference of sex. Let me entreat you to read the best French Romances; it will really, Madam, astonish you to see with what a variety of chaste expressions this delicious sentiment is dressed out.

Tristram Shandy

Book 1 - Chapter 18

The _French_ are certainly misunderstood: ----but whether the fault is theirs, in not sufficiently explaining themselves; or speaking with that exact limitation and precision which one would expect on a point of such importance, and which, moreover, is so likely to be contested by us----or whether the fault may not be altogether on our side, in not understanding their language always so critically as to know "what they would be at" ----I shall not decide; but 'tis evident to me, when they affirm, "_That they who have seen _Paris_, have seen everything_," they must mean to speak of those who have seen it by day-light. As for candle-light --I give it up ----I have said before, there was no depending upon it--and I repeat it again; but not because the lights and shades are too sharp--or the tints confounded--or that there is neither beauty or keeping, &c. . . . for that's not truth--but it is an uncertain light in this respect, That in all the five hundred grand Htels, which they number up to you in _Paris_--and the five hundred good things, at a modest computation (for 'tis only allowing one good thing to a Htel), which by candle-light are best to be _seen_, _felt_, _heard_, and _understood_ (which, by the bye, is a quotation from _Lilly_)----the devil a one of us out of fifty, can get our heads fairly thrust in amongst them. This is no part of the _French_ computation: 'tis simply this, That by the last survey taken in the year one thousand seven hundred and sixteen, since which time there have been considerable argumentations, _Paris_ doth contain nine hundred streets; (viz.) In the quarter called the _City_--there are fifty-three streets. In St. _James_ of the Shambles, fifty-five streets. In St. _Oportune_, thirty-four streets. In the quarter of the _Louvre_, twenty-five streets. In the _Palace Royal_, or St. _Honorius_, forty-nine streets. In _Mont. Martyr_, forty-one streets. In St. _Eustace_, twenty-nine streets. In the _Halles_, twenty-seven streets. In St. _Dennis_, fifty-five streets. In St. _Martin_, fifty-four streets. In St. _Paul_, or the _Mortellerie_, twenty-seven streets. The _Greve_, thirty-eight streets. In St. _Avoy_, or the _Verrerie_, nineteen streets. In the _Marais_, or the _Temple_, fifty-two streets. In St. _Antony's_, sixty-eight streets. In the _Place Maubert_, eighty-one streets. In St. _Bennet_, sixty streets. In St. _Andrews de Arcs_, fifty-one streets. In the quarter of the _Luxembourg_, sixty-two streets. And in that of St. Germain, fifty-five streets, into any of which you may walk; and that when you have seen them with all that belongs to them, fairly by day-light--their gates, their bridges, their squares, their statues - - - and have crusaded it moreover, through all their parish-churches, by no means omitting St. _Roche_ and _Sulpice_ - - - and to crown all, have taken a walk to the four palaces, which you may see, either with or without the statues and pictures, just as you chuse-- ----Then you will have seen---- ----but, 'tis what no one needeth to tell you, for you will read of it yourself upon the portico of the _Louvre_, in these words, [7.3]EARTH NO SUCH FOLKS! --NO FOLKS E'ER SUCH A TOWN AS PARIS IS! --SING, DERRY, DERRY, DOWN. The _French_ have a _gay_ way of treating everything that is Great; and that is all can be said upon it. [Footnote 7.3: Non orbis gentem, non urbem gens habet ullam --------ulla parem.]

The French are certainly misunderstood: but whether the fault is theirs, in not sufficiently explaining themselves, or speaking too precisely - or whether the fault is on our side, in not understanding their language well enough - I shall not decide. But 'tis evident to me, when people say 'That they who have seen Paris, have seen everything,' they must mean those who have seen it by day-light. As for candle-light - I give it up - there was no depending upon it; in all the five hundred grand Hotels in Paris, and the five hundred good things (allowing one good thing to a Hotel), which by candle-light are best to be seen, felt, heard, and understood (which, by the bye, is a quotation from Lilly) - barely one of us out of fifty can get our heads thrust in amongst them. 'Tis simply this, That by the last survey taken in the year 1716, Paris did contain nine hundred streets; (viz.) In the quarter called the City, there are fifty-three streets. In St. James of the Shambles, fifty-five streets. In St. Oportune, thirty-four streets. In the quarter of the Louvre, twenty-five streets. In the Palace Royal, or St. Honorius, forty-nine streets. In Mont. Martyr, forty-one streets. In St. Eustace, twenty-nine streets. In the Halles, twenty-seven streets. In St. Dennis, fifty-five streets. In St. Martin, fifty-four streets. And in a further ten quarters, five hundred and thirteen streets, into any of which you may walk; and when you have seen them by day-light - their gates, bridges, squares, and statues - and have crusaded moreover, through all their parish-churches, - and to crown all, have taken a walk to the four palaces- Then you will have seen- - but no one needs tell you what, for you will read of it yourself upon the portico of the Louvre, in these words, EARTH NO SUCH FOLKS! NO FOLKS E'ER SUCH A TOWN AS PARIS IS! SING, DERRY, DERRY, DOWN. Non orbis gentem, non urbem gens habet ullam - - - ulla parem. The French have a gay way of treating everything that is Great; and that is all that can be said.

Tristram Shandy

Book 7 - Chapter 18

Dear _Yorick_, said my father, smiling (for _Yorick_ had broke his rank with my uncle _Toby_ in coming through the narrow entry, and so had stept first into the parlour)--this _Tristram_ of ours, I find, comes very hardly by all his religious rites. --Never was the son of _Jew_, _Christian_, _Turk_, or _Infidel_ initiated into them in so oblique and slovenly a manner. --But he is no worse, I trust, said _Yorick_. --There has been certainly, continued my father, the deuce and all to do in some part or other of the ecliptic, when this offspring of mine was formed. --That, you are a better judge of than I, replied _Yorick_. --Astrologers, quoth my father, know better than us both: --the trine and sextil aspects have jumped awry, --or the opposite of their ascendants have not hit it, as they should, --or the lords of the genitures (as they call them) have been at _bo-peep_, --or something has been wrong above, or below with us. 'Tis possible, answered _Yorick_. --But is the child, cried my uncle _Toby_, the worse? --The _Troglodytes_ say not, replied my father. And your theologists, _Yorick_, tell us --Theologically? said _Yorick_, --or speaking after the manner of apothecaries?[5.3]--statesmen?[5.4]--or washer-women?[5.5] ----I'm not sure, replied my father, --but they tell us, brother _Toby_, he's the better for it. ----Provided, said _Yorick_, you travel him into _Egypt_. ----Of that, answered my father, he will have the advantage, when he sees the _Pyramids_.---- Now every word of this, quoth my uncle _Toby_, is _Arabick_ to me. ----I wish, said _Yorick_, 'twas so, to half the world. ----ILUS,[5.6] continued my father, circumcised his whole army one morning. --Not without a court martial? cried my uncle _Toby_. ----Though the learned, continued he, taking no notice of my uncle _Toby's_ remark, but turning to _Yorick_, --are greatly divided still who _Ilus_ was; --some say _Saturn_; --some the Supreme Being; --others, no more than a brigadier general under _Pharaoh-neco_. ----Let him be who he will, said my uncle _Toby_, I know not by what article of war he could justify it. The controvertists, answered my father, assign two-and-twenty different reasons for it: --others, indeed, who have drawn their pens on the opposite side of the question, have shewn the world the futility of the greatest part of them. --But then again, our best polemic divines --I wish there was not a polemic divine, said _Yorick_, in the kingdom; --one ounce of practical divinity--is worth a painted ship-load of all their reverences have imported these fifty years. --Pray, Mr. _Yorick_, quoth my uncle _Toby_, --do tell me what a polemic divine is? ----The best description, captain _Shandy_, I have ever read, is of a couple of 'em, replied _Yorick_, in the account of the battle fought single hands betwixt _Gymnast_ and captain _Tripet_; which I have in my pocket. ----I beg I may hear it, quoth my uncle _Toby_ earnestly. --You shall, said _Yorick_. --And as the corporal is waiting for me at the door, --and I know the description of a battle will do the poor fellow more good than his supper, --I beg, brother, you'll give him leave to come in. --With all my soul, said my father. ----_Trim_ came in, erect and happy as an emperor; and having shut the door, _Yorick_ took a book from his right-hand coat-pocket, and read, or pretended to read, as follows. [Footnote 5.3: , , . --PHILO.] [Footnote 5.4: , .] [Footnote 5.5: . --BOCHART.] [Footnote 5.6: , , ' . --SANCHUNIATHO.]

'Dear Yorick,' said my father, smiling (for Yorick had come into the parlour with my uncle Toby) - 'this Tristram of ours, I find, comes very hardly by his religious rites. Never was the son of Jew, Christian, Turk or Infidel initiated into them in so slovenly a manner.' 'But he is none the worse, I trust,' said Yorick. 'There has certainly,' continued my father, 'been the devil and all to do in his stars, when this offspring of mine was made.' 'You are a better judge of that than I,' replied Yorick. 'Astrologers know better than us both,' quoth my father; 'the trine and sextil aspects have jumped awry, or the lords of the genitures (as they call them) have been at bo-peep.' ''Tis possible,' answered Yorick. 'But is the child,' cried my uncle Toby, 'any the worse?' 'The Troglodytes say not,' replied my father. 'And your theologists, Yorick, tell us he's the better for it.' 'Provided,' said Yorick, 'you travel him into Egypt.' 'Of that,' answered my father, 'he will have the advantage, when he sees the Pyramids.' 'Now every word of this,' quoth my uncle Toby, 'is Arabic to me.' 'Ilus,' continued my father, 'circumcised his whole army one morning.' 'Not without a court martial?' cried my uncle. 'Though the learned,' continued my father, taking no notice of my uncle's remark, but turning to Yorick, 'are greatly divided as to who Ilus was; some say Saturn; some the Supreme Being; - others, no more than a brigadier general under the Pharaoh.' 'Whoever he was,' said my uncle Toby, 'I know not by what article of war he could justify it.' 'Historians,' answered my father, 'give two-and-twenty different reasons for it: - others have shown how futile most of these are. But then again, our best polemic divines-' 'I wish there was not a polemic divine in the kingdom,' said Yorick. 'One ounce of practical divinity is worth a painted ship-load of all that their reverences have imported these fifty years.' 'Pray, Mr. Yorick,' quoth my uncle Toby, 'do tell me what a polemic divine is?' 'The best description I have read, captain Shandy,' replied Yorick, 'is the account of a couple of 'em in the battle fought hand to hand betwixt Gymnast and captain Tripet; which I have in my pocket.' 'May I hear it?' asked my uncle Toby earnestly. 'You shall,' said Yorick. 'As the corporal is waiting for me at the door, and I know the description of a battle will do the poor fellow more good than his supper, I beg, brother, you'll let him come in.' 'With all my soul,' said my father. Trim came in, erect and happy as an emperor; and having shut the door, Yorick took a book from his coat-pocket, and read, or pretended to read, as follows.

Tristram Shandy

Book 5 - Chapter 28

Well! dear brother _Toby_, said my father, upon his first seeing him after he fell in love--and how goes it with your ASSE? Now my uncle _Toby_ thinking more of the _part_ where he had had the blister, than of _Hilarion's_ metaphor--and our preconceptions having (you know) as great a power over the sounds of words as the shapes of things, he had imagined, that my father, who was not very ceremonious in his choice of words, had enquired after the part by its proper name; so notwithstanding my mother, doctor _Slop_, and Mr. _Yorick_, were sitting in the parlour, he thought it rather civil to conform to the term my father had made use of than not. When a man is hemm'd in by two indecorums, and must commit one of 'em --I always observe--let him chuse which he will, the world will blame him--so I should not be astonished if it blames my uncle _Toby_. My A--e, quoth my uncle _Toby_, is much better--brother _Shandy_ --My father had formed great expectations from his Asse in this onset; and would have brought him on again; but doctor _Slop_ setting up an intemperate laugh--and my mother crying out L-- bless us! --it drove my father's Asse off the field--and the laugh then becoming general--there was no bringing him back to the charge, for some time---- And so the discourse went on without him. Everybody, said my mother, says you are in love, brother _Toby_, --and we hope it is true. I am as much in love, sister, I believe, replied my uncle _Toby_, as any man usually is ----Humph! said my father----and when did you know it? quoth my mother---- ----When the blister broke; replied my uncle _Toby_. My uncle _Toby's_ reply put my father into good temper--so he charg'd o' foot.

'Well! dear brother Toby,' said my father, upon first seeing him after he fell in love - 'and how goes it with your Ass?' Now my uncle Toby, thinking more of the part where he had the blister than of the hermit's metaphor, imagined that my father, who was not very ceremonious in his choice of words, had enquired after the part by its proper name. So although my mother, doctor Slop and Mr. Yorick were sitting in the parlour, he thought it civil to reply using the same term as my father. 'My A__e,' quoth my uncle Toby, 'is much better, brother Shandy.' My father had formed great expectations from his Ass in this onset; and would have said more, but doctor Slop setting up an intemperate laugh - and my mother crying out, 'L__d bless us!' - it drove my father's Ass off the field - and the laugh then becoming general, there was no bringing him back to the charge for some time. And so the discourse went on without him. 'Everybody,' said my mother, 'says you are in love, brother Toby, and we hope it is true.' 'I am as much in love, I believe,' replied he, 'as any man usually is.' 'Humph!' said my father. 'And when did you know it?' asked my mother. 'When the blister broke,' replied my uncle Toby. My uncle Toby's reply put my father into good temper - so he charged on foot.

Tristram Shandy

Book 8 - Chapter 32

----"Now what can their two noddles be about?" cried my father - - &c. - - - - I dare say, said my mother, they are making fortifications---- ------Not on Mrs. _Wadman's_ premises! cried my father, stepping back---- I suppose not: quoth my mother. I wish, said my father, raising his voice, the whole science of fortification at the devil, with all its trumpery of saps, mines, blinds, gabions, fausse-brays and cuvetts------ ----They are foolish things----said my mother. Now she had a way, which, by the bye, I would this moment give away my purple jerkin, and my yellow slippers into the bargain, if some of your reverences would imitate--and that was, never to refuse her assent and consent to any proposition my father laid before her, merely because she did not understand it, or had no ideas of the principal word or term of art, upon which the tenet or proposition rolled. She contented herself with doing all that her godfathers and godmothers promised for her--but no more; and so would go on using a hard word twenty years together--and replying to it too, if it was a verb, in all its moods and tenses, without giving herself any trouble to enquire about it. This was an eternal source of misery to my father, and broke the neck, at the first setting out, of more good dialogues between them, than could have done the most petulant contradiction----the few which survived were the better for the _cuvetts_---- --"They are foolish things;" said my mother. ----Particularly the _cuvetts_; replied my father. 'Tis enough--he tasted the sweet of triumph--and went on. --Not that they are, properly speaking, Mrs. _Wadman's_ premises, said my father, partly correcting himself--because she is but tenant for life---- ----That makes a great difference--said my mother---- --In a fool's head, replied my father---- Unless she should happen to have a child--said my mother-- ----But she must persuade my brother _Toby_ first to get her one-- ----To be sure, Mr. _Shandy_, quoth my mother. ----Though if it comes to persuasion--said my father --Lord have mercy upon them. Amen: said my mother, _piano_. Amen: cried my father, _fortissim_. Amen: said my mother again----but with such a sighing cadence of personal pity at the end of it, as discomfited every fibre about my father--he instantly took out his almanack; but before he could untie it, _Yorick's_ congregation coming out of church, became a full answer to one half of his business with it--and my mother telling him it was a sacrament day--left him as little in doubt, as to the other part --He put his almanack into his pocket. The first Lord of the Treasury thinking of _ways and means_, could not have returned home with a more embarrassed look.

'Now what can their two noddles be about?' 'I dare say,' said my mother, 'they are making fortifications.' 'Not on Mrs. Wadman's premises!' cried my father. 'I suppose not,' quoth my mother. 'I wish,' said my father, raising his voice, 'the whole science of fortification at the devil, with all its trumpery of saps, mines, blinds, gabions, and cuvetts-' 'They are foolish things,' said my mother. Now my mother would never disagree to any proposition my father laid before her, merely because she did not understand it, or had no ideas of the meaning of the terms upon which the proposition rolled. She would go on using a hard word twenty years together, without giving herself any trouble to enquire about it. This was an eternal source of misery to my father, and cut short more good dialogues between them, than the most petulant contradiction could have done. The few which survived were the better for the cuvetts - the ditches within ditches. 'They are foolish things;' said my mother. 'Particularly the cuvetts,' replied my father. He tasted the sweet of triumph - and went on. 'Not that they are, properly speaking, Mrs. Wadman's premises,' said my father, 'because she is only tenant for life.' 'That makes a great difference,' said my mother. 'In a fool's head,' replied my father. 'Unless she should happen to have a child,' said my mother. 'But she must persuade my brother Toby first to get her one.' 'To be sure,' quoth my mother. 'Though if it comes to persuasion,' said my father, 'Lord have mercy upon them.' 'Amen,' said my mother, piano. 'Amen,' cried my father, fortissimo. 'Amen,' said my mother again - but with such a sigh of personal pity, as discomfited every fibre of my father. He instantly took out his almanac; but before he could look in it, Yorick's congregation coming out of church, answered half of his business with it - and my mother telling him it was a sacrament day answered the other half. My father, remiss in not attending church, put his almanac into his pocket, and returned home with a most embarrassed look.

Tristram Shandy

Book 9 - Chapter 11

Though my father was hugely tickled with the subtleties of these learned discourses------'twas still but like the anointing of a broken bone ------The moment he got home, the weight of his afflictions returned upon him but so much the heavier, as is ever the case when the staff we lean on slips from under us. --He became pensive--walked frequently forth to the fish-pond--let down one loop of his hat----sigh'd often----forbore to snap--and, as the hasty sparks of temper, which occasion snapping, so much assist perspiration and digestion, as _Hippocrates_ tells us--he had certainly fallen ill with the extinction of them, had not his thoughts been critically drawn off, and his health rescued by a fresh train of disquietudes left him, with a legacy of a thousand pounds, by my aunt _Dinah_. My father had scarce read the letter, when taking the thing by the right end, he instantly began to plague and puzzle his head how to lay it out mostly to the honour of his family. --A hundred-and-fifty odd projects took possession of his brains by turns--he would do this, and that, and t'other --He would go to _Rome_----he would go to law----he would buy stock----he would buy _John Hobson's_ farm--he would new fore-front his house, and add a new wing to make it even ----There was a fine water-mill on this side, and he would build a wind-mill on the other side of the river in full view to answer it --But above all things in the world, he would inclose the great _Ox-moor_, and send out my brother _Bobby_ immediately upon his travels. But as the sum was _finite_, and consequently could not do everything----and in truth very few of these to any purpose--of all the projects which offered themselves upon this occasion, the two last seemed to make the deepest impression; and he would infallibly have determined upon both at once, but for the small inconvenience hinted at above, which absolutely put him under a necessity of deciding in favour either of the one or the other. This was not altogether so easy to be done; for though 'tis certain my father had long before set his heart upon this necessary part of my brother's education, and like a prudent man had actually determined to carry it into execution, with the first money that returned from the second creation of actions in the _Missisippi_-scheme, in which he was an adventurer----yet the _Ox-moor_, which was a fine, large, whinny, undrained, unimproved common, belonging to the _Shandy_-estate, had almost as old a claim upon him: he had long and affectionately set his heart upon turning it likewise to some account. But having never hitherto been pressed with such a conjuncture of things, as made it necessary to settle either the priority or justice of their claims----like a wise man he had refrained entering into any nice or critical examination about them: so that upon the dismission of every other project at this crisis------the two old projects, the OX-MOOR and my BROTHER, divided him again; and so equal a match were they for each other, as to become the occasion of no small contest in the old gentleman's mind--which of the two should be set o'going first. ----People may laugh as they will--but the case was this. It had ever been the custom of the family, and by length of time was almost become a matter of common right, that the eldest son of it should have free ingress, egress, and regress into foreign parts before marriage--not only for the sake of bettering his own private parts, by the benefit of exercise and change of so much air--but simply for the mere delectation of his fancy, by the feather put into his cap, of having been abroad--_tantum valet_, my father would say, _quantum sonat_. Now as this was a reasonable, and in course a most christian indulgence----to deprive him of it, without why or wherefore----and thereby make an example of him, as the first _Shandy_ unwhirl'd about _Europe_ in a post-chaise, and only because he was a heavy lad----would be using him ten times worse than a Turk. On the other hand, the case of the _Ox-moor_ was full as hard. Exclusive of the original purchase-money, which was eight hundred pounds----it had cost the family eight hundred pounds more in a law-suit about fifteen years before--besides the Lord knows what trouble and vexation. It had been moreover in possession of the _Shandy_-family ever since the middle of the last century; and though it lay full in view before the house, bounded on one extremity by the water-mill, and on the other by the projected wind-mill, spoken of above--and for all these reasons seemed to have the fairest title of any part of the estate to the care and protection of the family--yet by an unaccountable fatality, common to men, as well as the ground they tread on----it had all along most shamefully been overlook'd; and to speak the truth of it, had suffered so much by it, that it would have made any man's heart have bled (_Obadiah_ said) who understood the value of the land, to have rode over it, and only seen the condition it was in. However, as neither the purchasing this tract of ground----nor indeed the placing of it where it lay, were either of them, properly speaking, of my father's doing----he had never thought himself any way concerned in the affair------till the fifteen years before, when the breaking out of that cursed law-suit mentioned above (and which had arose about its boundaries)------which being altogether my father's own act and deed, it naturally awakened every other argument in its favour, and upon summing them all up together, he saw, not merely in interest, but in honour, he was bound to do something for it----and that now or never was the time. I think there must certainly have been a mixture of ill-luck in it, that the reasons on both sides should happen to be so equally balanced by each other; for though my father weigh'd them in all humours and conditions------spent many an anxious hour in the most profound and abstracted meditation upon what was best to be done--reading books of farming one day------books of travels another----laying aside all passion whatever--viewing the arguments on both sides in all their lights and circumstances--communing every day with my uncle _Toby_--arguing with _Yorick_, and talking over the whole affair of the _Ox-moor_ with _Obadiah_------yet nothing in all that time appeared so strongly in behalf of the one, which was not either strictly applicable to the other, or at least so far counterbalanced by some consideration of equal weight, as to keep the scales even. For to be sure, with proper helps, and in the hands of some people, tho' the _Ox-moor_ would undoubtedly have made a different appearance in the world from what it did, or ever could do in the condition it lay----yet every tittle of this was true, with regard to my brother _Bobby_----let _Obadiah_ say what he would.------ In point of interest----the contest, I own, at first sight, did not appear so undecisive betwixt them; for whenever my father took pen and ink in hand, and set about calculating the simple expence of paring and burning, and fencing in the _Ox-moor_ &c. &c. --with the certain profit it would bring him in return----the latter turned out so prodigiously in his way of working the account, that you would have sworn the _Ox-moor_ would have carried all before it. For it was plain he should reap a hundred lasts of rape, at twenty pounds a last, the very first year----besides an excellent crop of wheat the year following----and the year after that, to speak within bounds, a hundred----but in all likelihood, a hundred and fifty------if not two hundred quarters of pease and beans----besides potatoes without end. ----But then, to think he was all this while breeding up my brother, like a hog to eat them----knocked all on the head again, and generally left the old gentleman in such a state of suspence----that, as he often declared to my uncle _Toby_----he knew no more than his heels what to do. No body, but he who has felt it, can conceive what a plaguing thing it is to have a man's mind torn asunder by two projects of equal strength, both obstinately pulling in a contrary direction at the same time: for to say nothing of the havock, which by a certain consequence is unavoidably made by it all over the finer system of the nerves, which you know convey the animal spirits and more subtle juices from the heart to the head, and so on----it is not to be told in what a degree such a wayward kind of friction works upon the more gross and solid parts, wasting the fat and impairing the strength of a man every time as it goes backwards and forwards. My father had certainly sunk under this evil, as certainly as he had done under that of my CHRISTIAN NAME----had he not been rescued out of it, as he was out of that, by a fresh evil------the misfortune of my brother _Bobby's_ death. What is the life of man! Is it not to shift from side to side? ------from sorrow to sorrow? ------to button up one cause of vexation------and unbutton another?

Though my father was hugely tickled with the subtleties of this learned discourse - 'twas still like putting ointment on a broken bone. When he got home, his afflictions weighed upon him so much the heavier. He became pensive - walked frequently to the fish-pond - sighed often - and would have certainly fallen ill, had not his thoughts been distracted by a fresh train of worries left him, with a legacy of a thousand pounds, by my aunt Dinah. My father had scarce read the letter, when he instantly began to puzzle his head how to use the money to the honour of his family. A hundred-and-fifty odd projects took possession of him by turns - he would go to Rome - he would go to law - he would buy stock - he would buy John Hobson's farm - he would build a new front to his house, and add a new wing to make it even. - There was a fine water-mill on this side, and he would build a wind-mill on the other side of the river in full view to answer it. - But above all things in the world, he would enclose the great Ox-moor, and send out my brother Bobby immediately upon his travels. As the sum was finite, and could not do everything, of all these projects, the two last made the deepest impression; and he would have done both, could he have afforded it: but he needed to decide in favour of either one or the other. This was not so easy; for though my father had long before set his heart upon this necessary part of my brother's education, and had determined to carry it out with the first money that returned from his investments in the Mississippi-scheme - yet the Ox-moor, which was a fine, large, gorse-covered, undrained common, belonging to the Shandy-estate, had almost as old a claim upon him: he had long wished to turn it to some account. Having never had to decide between the two before, he now found that it was so equal a match between the Ox-moor and my Brother, as to cause no small contest in the old gentleman's mind. People may laugh - but the case was this. It had always been the family's custom that the eldest son should be free to travel into foreign parts before marriage - not only to benefit bodily from the exercise and change of air - but also for the delectation of his fancy, by the feather put into his cap of having been abroad. Now as this was a reasonable indulgence - to deprive him of it, without why or wherefore - and thereby make him the first Shandy unwhirled about Europe in a post-chaise - would be using him ten times worse than a Turk. On the other hand, the case of the Ox-moor was just as hard. As well as the purchase-money, which was eight hundred pounds, it had cost the family eight hundred pounds more in a law-suit about fifteen years before - besides the Lord knows what trouble and vexation. It had been in possession of the Shandy-family ever since the middle of the last century; and though it lay full in view before the house, bounded on one side by the water-mill, and on the other by the projected wind-mill spoken of above - yet, unaccountably, it had always been most shamefully overlooked. To speak the truth, it had suffered so much that it would have made any man's heart bleed (Obadiah said) who understood the value of the land, to have rode over it, and seen the condition it was in. However, as neither its purchase nor its position were of my father's doing, he had never concerned himself with it - till fifteen years before, when the fighting of that cursed law-suit mentioned above (which had arose about its boundaries), being altogether my father's own act, naturally awakened every argument in its favour, so that he felt honour-bound to do something for it - and that now or never was the time. I think it was ill-luck that the reasons on both sides were so equally balanced; for though my father weighed them anxiously - reading books of farming one day - books of travels another - arguing with my uncle and Yorick, and talking over the affair of the Ox-moor with Obadiah - yet nothing appeared so strongly in behalf of the one, which was not counterbalanced by some consideration of equal weight in the other. For, to be sure, with the proper helps, the Ox-moor would undoubtedly have made a different appearance from what it did - yet this was also true with regard to my brother Bobby. The contest, I own, at first sight, did not appear so close: for whenever my father calculated the simple expense of burning and fencing in the Ox-moor, compared to the profit it would bring him - the latter turned out so prodigiously in his favour, that you would have thought the Ox-moor would have carried all before it. For it was plain his crop of rape should make two thousand pounds the very first year - besides an excellent wheat harvest the year following - and the year after that, a hundred, if not two hundred quarters of peas and beans - besides potatoes without end. But then, to think he was all this while breeding up my brother like a hog to eat them, knocked all on the head again, and left the old gentleman in such suspense that he knew no more than his heels what to do. Nobody can conceive what a plaguing thing it is to have a man's mind torn asunder by two projects of equal strength, both obstinately pulling in contrary directions: for to say nothing of the havoc made on the nerves, such a wayward friction works to a dreadful degree upon the more gross and solid parts, impairing the strength of a man every time it goes backwards and forwards. My father would certainly have sunk under this evil, as he had done under that of my christian name - had he not been rescued out of it by a fresh evil - the misfortune of my brother Bobby's death. What is the life of man! Is it not to shift from sorrow to sorrow? - to button up one cause of vexation - and unbutton another?

Tristram Shandy

Book 4 - Chapter 31

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.

Tristram Shandy

Book 4 - Chapter 27

_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:

Tristram Shandy

Book 7 - Chapter 5

----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.

Tristram Shandy

Book 5 - Chapter 23

----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.]

Tristram Shandy

Book 5 - Chapter 12

'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.

Tristram Shandy

Book 3 - Chapter 41

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.

Tristram Shandy

Book 3 - Chapter 22

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.

Tristram Shandy

Book 9 - Chapter 10

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.

Tristram Shandy

Book 7 - Chapter 26

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.

Tristram Shandy

Book 9 - Chapter 29

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.

Tristram Shandy

Book 7 - Chapter 35

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.-

Tristram Shandy

Book 3 - Chapter 3

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.

Tristram Shandy

Book 7 - Chapter 3

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.

Tristram Shandy

Book 1 - Chapter 5

"--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.

Tristram Shandy

Book 3 - Chapter 2

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.

Tristram Shandy

Book 7 - Chapter 39

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.

Tristram Shandy

Book 1 - Chapter 24

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.

Tristram Shandy

Book 1 - Chapter 3

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.

Tristram Shandy

Book 5 - Chapter 20

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.

Tristram Shandy

Book 9 - Chapter 23