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

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

Tristram Shandy

Book 8 - Chapter 12

My father had such a skirmishing, cutting kind of a slashing way with him, in his disputations, thrusting and ripping, and giving every one a stroke to remember him by in his turn--that if there were twenty people in company--in less than half an hour he was sure to have every one of 'em against him. What did not a little contribute to leave him thus without an ally, was, that if there was any one post more untenable than the rest, he would be sure to throw himself into it; and to do him justice, when he was once there, he would defend it so gallantly, that 'twould have been a concern, either to a brave man or a good-natured one, to have seen him driven out. _Yorick_, for this reason, though he would often attack him--yet could never bear to do it with all his force. Doctor _Slop's_ VIRGINITY, in the close of the last chapter, had got him for once on the right side of the rampart; and he was beginning to blow up all the convents in _Christendom_ about _Slop's_ ears, when corporal _Trim_ came into the parlour to inform my uncle _Toby_, that his thin scarlet breeches, in which the attack was to be made upon Mrs. _Wadman_, would not do; for that the taylor, in ripping them up, in order to turn them, had found they had been turn'd before ----Then turn them again, brother, said my father, rapidly, for there will be many a turning of 'em yet before all's done in the affair ----They are as rotten as dirt, said the corporal ----Then by all means, said my father, bespeak a new pair, brother----for though I know, continued my father, turning himself to the company, that widow _Wadman_ has been deeply in love with my brother _Toby_ for many years, and has used every art and circumvention of woman to outwit him into the same passion, yet now that she has caught him----her fever will be pass'd its height---- ----She has gain'd her point. In this case, continued my father, which _Plato_, I am persuaded, never thought of ----Love, you see, is not so much a SENTIMENT as a SITUATION, into which a man enters, as my brother _Toby_ would do, into a _corps_----no matter whether he loves the service or no----being once in it--he acts as if he did; and takes every step to shew himself a man of prowesse. The hypothesis, like the rest of my father's, was plausible enough, and my uncle _Toby_ had but a single word to object to it--in which _Trim_ stood ready to second him----but my father had not drawn his conclusion---- For this reason, continued my father (stating the case over again)--notwithstanding all the world knows, that Mrs. _Wadman_ _affects_ my brother _Toby_--and my brother _Toby_ contrariwise _affects_ Mrs. _Wadman_, and no obstacle in nature to forbid the music striking up this very night, yet will I answer for it, that this self-same tune will not be play'd this twelvemonth. We have taken our measures badly, quoth my uncle _Toby_, looking up interrogatively in _Trim's_ face. I would lay my _Montero_-cap, said _Trim_ ----Now _Trim's_ _Montero_-cap, as I once told you, was his constant wager; and having furbish'd it up that very night, in order to go upon the attack--it made the odds look more considerable ----I would lay, an' please your honour, my _Montero_-cap to a shilling--was it proper, continued _Trim_ (making a bow), to offer a wager before your honours---- ----There is nothing improper in it, said my father--'tis a mode of expression; for in saying thou would'st lay thy _Montero_-cap to a shilling--all thou meanest is this--that thou believest-- ----Now, What do'st thou believe? That widow _Wadman_, an' please your worship, cannot hold it out ten days---- And whence, cried _Slop_, jeeringly, hast thou all this knowledge of woman, friend? By falling in love with a popish clergywoman; said _Trim_. 'Twas a _Beguine_, said my uncle _Toby_. Doctor _Slop_ was too much in wrath to listen to the distinction; and my father taking that very crisis to fall in helter-skelter upon the whole order of Nuns and _Beguines_, a set of silly, fusty, baggages----_Slop_ could not stand it----and my uncle _Toby_ having some measures to take about his breeches--and _Yorick_ about his fourth general division--in order for their several attacks next day--the company broke up: and my father being left alone, and having half an hour upon his hands betwixt that and bed-time; he called for pen, ink, and paper, and wrote my uncle _Toby_ the following letter of instructions: MY DEAR BROTHER _Toby_, What I am going to say to thee is upon the nature of women, and of love-making to them; and perhaps it is as well for thee--tho' not so well for me--that thou hast occasion for a letter of instructions upon that head, and that I am able to write it to thee. Had it been the good pleasure of him who disposes of our lots--and thou no sufferer by the knowledge, I had been well content that thou should'st have dipp'd the pen this moment into the ink, instead of myself; but that not being the case ------------Mrs. _Shandy_ being now close beside me, preparing for bed ----I have thrown together without order, and just as they have come into my mind, such hints and documents as I deem may be of use to thee; intending, in this, to give thee a token of my love; not doubting, my dear _Toby_, of the manner in which it will be accepted. In the first place, with regard to all which concerns religion in the affair----though I perceive from a glow in my cheek, that I blush as I begin to speak to thee upon the subject, as well knowing, notwithstanding thy unaffected secrecy, how few of its offices thou neglectest--yet I would remind thee of one (during the continuance of thy courtship) in a particular manner, which I would not have omitted; and that is, never to go forth upon the enterprize, whether it be in the morning or the afternoon, without first recommending thyself to the protection of Almighty God, that he may defend thee from the evil one. Shave the whole top of thy crown clean once at least every four or five days, but oftener if convenient; lest in taking off thy wig before her, thro' absence of mind, she should be able to discover how much has been cut away by Time----how much by _Trim_. --'Twere better to keep ideas of baldness out of her fancy. Always carry it in thy mind, and act upon it as a sure maxim, _Toby_---- "_That women are timid:_" And 'tis well they are----else there would be no dealing with them. Let not thy breeches be too tight, or hang too loose about thy thighs, like the trunk-hose of our ancestors. ----A just medium prevents all conclusions. Whatever thou hast to say, be it more or less, forget not to utter it in a low soft tone of voice. Silence, and whatever approaches it, weaves dreams of midnight secrecy into the brain: For this cause, if thou canst help it, never throw down the tongs and poker. Avoid all kinds of pleasantry and facetiousness in thy discourse with her, and do whatever lies in thy power at the same time, to keep from her all books and writings which tend thereto: there are some devotional tracts, which if thou canst entice her to read over--it will be well: but suffer her not to look into _Rabelais_, or _Scarron_, or _Don Quixote_---- ----They are all books which excite laughter; and thou knowest, dear _Toby_, that there is no passion so serious as lust. Stick a pin in the bosom of thy shirt, before thou enterest her parlour. And if thou art permitted to sit upon the same sopha with her, and she gives thee occasion to lay thy hand upon hers--beware of taking it----thou canst not lay thy hand on hers, but she will feel the temper of thine. Leave that and as many other things as thou canst, quite undetermined; by so doing, thou wilt have her curiosity on thy side; and if she is not conquered by that, and thy ASSE continues still kicking, which there is great reason to suppose ----Thou must begin, with first losing a few ounces of blood below the ears, according to the practice of the ancient _Scythians_, who cured the most intemperate fits of the appetite by that means. _Avicenna_, after this, is for having the part anointed with the syrup of hellebore, using proper evacuations and purges----and I believe rightly. But thou must eat little or no goat's flesh, nor red deer----nor even foal's flesh by any means; and carefully abstain----that is, as much as thou canst, from peacocks, cranes, coots, didappers, and water-hens---- As for thy drink --I need not tell thee, it must be the infusion of VERVAIN and the herb HANEA, of which _lian_ relates such effects--but if thy stomach palls with it--discontinue it from time to time, taking cucumbers, melons, purslane, water-lillies, woodbine, and lettice, in the stead of them. There is nothing further for thee, which occurs to me at present---- ----Unless the breaking out of a fresh war ----So wishing everything, dear _Toby_, for the best, I rest thy affectionate brother, WALTER SHANDY.

My father had such a skirmishing, slashing way with him, in his arguments - thrusting and ripping, and giving everyone a stroke to remember him by - that if there were twenty people in company, in less than half an hour he was sure to have every one of 'em against him. Moreover, if there was any position more untenable than the rest, he would be sure to throw himself into it; and once there, he would defend it so gallantly, that 'twould have been difficult for a brave man to drive him out. Yorick, for this reason, though he would often attack him, could never bear to do it with all his force. Doctor Slop's Virginity, in the close of the last chapter, had got him on the right side of the rampart; and he was beginning to blow up all the convents in Christendom about Slop's ears, when corporal Trim came into the parlour to inform my uncle Toby that his thin scarlet breeches, in which the attack was to be made upon Mrs. Wadman, would not do; for the tailor, about to turn them, had found they had been turned before. 'Then turn them again, brother,' said my father, 'for there will be many a turning of 'em yet before all's done.' 'They are as rotten as dirt,' said the corporal. 'Then order a new pair,' said my father; 'for though I know,' he continued, turning to the company, 'that widow Wadman has been deeply in love with my brother Toby for many years, and has used every art of woman to outwit him into the same passion - yet now that she has caught him, her fever will be past its height - she has gained her point. 'In this case,' he continued, 'Love is not so much a Sentiment as a Situation, into which a man enters as my brother Toby would enter a battalion. No matter whether he loves the service or no, once in it, he acts as if he did; and takes every step to show himself a man of prowess.' The hypothesis was plausible enough, and my uncle Toby had only one objection to it - but my father had not finished. 'For this reason,' he continued, 'although all the world knows that Mrs. Wadman loves my brother Toby, and my brother Toby loves Mrs. Wadman, and no obstacle can forbid the music striking up this very night, yet I will answer for it that the same tune will not be played in a year.' 'We have taken our measures badly,' quoth my uncle Toby to Trim. 'I would lay my Montero-cap,' said Trim - now Trim's Montero-cap, as I once told you, was his constant wager; and having furbished it up for the attack, it made the odds look better - 'I would lay my Montero-cap to a shilling - if it was proper to offer a wager before your honours-' 'There is nothing improper in it,' said my father, ''tis a mode of expression. All it means is that thou believest - now, what dost thou believe?' 'That widow Wadman cannot hold out ten days.' 'And whence,' cried Slop jeeringly, 'hast thou all this knowledge of woman, friend?' 'By falling in love with a popish clergywoman,' said Trim. ''Twas a Beguine,' said my uncle Toby. Doctor Slop was too angry to listen to the distinction; and my father taking that chance to fall helter-skelter upon the whole order of Nuns and Beguines, as a set of silly, fusty, baggages - Slop could not stand it - and my uncle Toby having some measures to take about his breeches - the company broke up. My father being left alone, and having half an hour upon his hands before bed-time, called for pen and paper, and wrote my uncle Toby the following letter of instructions: MY DEAR BROTHER TOBY, What I am going to say to thee is upon the nature of women, and of love-making to them; and it is good that thou hast occasion for a letter of instructions upon that head, and that I am able to write it to thee. Mrs. Shandy being now nearby, preparing for bed - I have thrown together, just as they have come into my mind, such hints as I judge may be of use; intending, in this, to give thee a token of my love. Firstly, with regard to religion in this affair - though I know how few of its offices thou neglectest - yet I would remind thee of one thing during thy courtship; and that is, never to go forth upon the enterprise, without first recommending thyself to the protection of Almighty God, that he may defend thee from the evil one. Shave the whole top of thy head clean every four or five days, but oftener if convenient; lest in taking off thy wig before her, she should discover how much has been cut away by Time. 'Twere better to keep ideas of baldness out of her fancy. Always remember, Toby, 'That women are timid.' And 'tis well they are - or else there would be no dealing with them. Let not thy breeches be too tight, or hang too loose about thy thighs, like the trunk-hose of our ancestors. Whatever thou hast to say, utter it in a low, soft tone of voice. Silence weaves dreams of midnight secrecy into the brain. Avoid all kinds of pleasantry and facetiousness in thy discourse with her, and do all thou canst to keep from her books which tend thereto: there are some devotional tracts, which she may read over - but do not allow her to look into Rabelais, or Don Quixote. They are books which excite laughter; and thou knowest, dear Toby, that there is no passion so serious as lust. If thou art permitted to sit upon the same sofa with her, and to lay thy hand upon hers - beware: - thou canst not lay thy hand on hers, without her feeling the temper of thine. Leave that undetermined; so that thou wilt have her curiosity on thy side. If she is not conquered by that, and thy Ass continues kicking - thou must begin by losing a few ounces of blood below the ears, according to the practice of the ancient Scythians, who cured the most intemperate fits of appetite by that means. Avicenna is for having the part anointed with the syrup of hellebore, using proper purges - and I believe rightly. Thou must eat little or no goat's flesh, nor red deer; and carefully abstain from peacocks, cranes, coots and water-hens. As for thy drink - I need not tell thee, it must be the infusion of Vervain and the herb Hanea, of which Aelian relates such effects - but if thy stomach palls, take cucumbers, melons, purslane, water-lilies, woodbine, and lettuce instead. There is nothing further which occurs to me at present- So wishing everything, dear Toby, for the best, I rest thy affectionate brother, WALTER SHANDY.

Tristram Shandy

Book 8 - Chapter 34

The ancient _Goths_ of _Germany_, who (the learned _Cluverius_ is positive) were first seated in the country between the _Vistula_ and the _Oder_, and who afterwards incorporated the _Herculi_, the _Bugians_, and some other _Vandallick_ clans to 'em--had all of them a wise custom of debating everything of importance to their state, twice; that is, --once drunk, and once sober: ----Drunk, --that their councils might not want vigour; ----and sober--that they might not want discretion. Now my father being entirely a water-drinker, --was a long time gravelled almost to death, in turning this as much to his advantage, as he did every other thing which the ancients did or said; and it was not till the seventh year of his marriage, after a thousand fruitless experiments and devices, that he hit upon an expedient which answered the purpose; ----and that was, when any difficult and momentous point was to be settled in the family, which required great sobriety, and great spirit too, in its determination, ----he fixed and set apart the first _Sunday_ night in the month, and the _Saturday_ night which immediately preceded it, to argue it over, in bed, with my mother: By which contrivance, if you consider, Sir, with yourself, * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * These my father, humorously enough, called his _beds of justice_; ----for from the two different counsels taken in these two different humours, a middle one was generally found out which touched the point of wisdom as well, as if he had got drunk and sober a hundred times. It must not be made a secret of to the world, that this answers full as well in literary discussions, as either in military or conjugal; but it is not every author that can try the experiment as the _Goths_ and _Vandals_ did it----or, if he can, may it be always for his body's health; and to do it, as my father did it, --am I sure it would be always for his soul's. My way is this:---- In all nice and ticklish discussions--(of which, heaven knows, there are but too many in my book), --where I find I cannot take a step without the danger of having either their worships or their reverences upon my back ----I write one-half _full_, --and t'other _fasting_; ----or write it all full, --and correct it fasting: ----or write it fasting, --and correct it full, for they all come to the same thing: ----So that with a less variation from my father's plan, than my father's from the _Gothick_ ----I feel myself upon a par with him in his first bed of justice, --and no way inferior to him in his second. ----These different and almost irreconcileable effects, flow uniformly from the wise and wonderful mechanism of nature, --of which, --be her's the honour. ----All that we can do, is to turn and work the machine to the improvement and better manufactory of the arts and sciences.---- Now, when I write full, --I write as if I was never to write fasting again as long as I live; ----that is, I write free from the cares as well as the terrors of the world. ----I count not the number of my scars, --nor does my fancy go forth into dark entries and bye-corners to antedate my stabs. ----In a word, my pen takes its course; and I write on as much from the fulness of my heart, as my stomach.---- But when, an' please your honours, I indite fasting, 'tis a different history. ----I pay the world all possible attention and respect, --and have as great a share (whilst it lasts) of that under-strapping virtue of discretion as the best of you. ----So that betwixt both, I write a careless kind of a civil, nonsensical, good-humoured _Shandean_ book, which will do all your hearts good------ ----And all your heads too, --provided you understand it.

The ancient Goths of Germany, who (the learned Cluverius says) were first settled between the Vistula and the Oder, had a wise custom of debating everything of importance twice; that is, once drunk, and once sober. - Drunk, so that their councils might have vigour; - and sober, so that they might have discretion. Now my father being entirely a water-drinker, was for a long time perplexed how to turn this to his advantage, as he did every other thing which the ancients did or said; and it was not till the seventh year of his marriage, after a thousand fruitless experiments, that he hit upon a method which answered the purpose. That was, when any difficult and momentous point was to be settled, which required great sobriety, and great spirit too - he fixed and set apart the first Sunday night in the month, and the Saturday night immediately before it, to argue it over in bed, with my mother. By this contrivance, if you consider, Sir, the significance of these days in my first volume, * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * These my father, humorously enough, called his 'beds of justice'; for from the two different counsels taken in these two different moods, a middle one was generally found which was as near wisdom as if he had got drunk and sober a hundred times. This method answers full as well in literary discussions, as in conjugal; but it is not every author that can try the experiment as the Goths did it. My way is this: In delicate and ticklish discussions (of which, heaven knows, there are all too many in my book) - where I find I cannot take a step without the danger of having someone upon my back - I write one-half full, and t'other half hungry; or write it all full, and correct it fasting, or vice versa, for they come to the same thing. So I feel myself upon a par with my father in his first bed of justice, and no way inferior to him in his second. Now, when I write full, I write free from the cares and terrors of the world. I count not my scars; nor does my fancy go forth into dark corners. In a word, I write as much from the fullness of my heart, as my stomach. But when I am fasting, 'tis a different story. I pay the world all possible attention and respect - so that betwixt both, I write a careless kind of a civil, nonsensical, good-humoured Shandean book, which will do all your hearts good- - And your heads too, provided you understand it.

Tristram Shandy

Book 6 - Chapter 17

As _Tom_, an' please your honour, had no business at that time with the _Moorish_ girl, he passed on into the room beyond, to talk to the _Jew's_ widow about love----and this pound of sausages; and being, as I have told your honour, an open cheary-hearted lad, with his character wrote in his looks and carriage, he took a chair, and without much apology, but with great civility at the same time, placed it close to her at the table, and sat down. There is nothing so awkward, as courting a woman, an' please your honour, whilst she is making sausages ----So _Tom_ began a discourse upon them; first, gravely, ----"as how they were made----with what meats, herbs, and spices" --Then a little gayly, --as, "With what skins----and if they never burst ----Whether the largest were not the best?" ----and so on--taking care only as he went along, to season what he had to say upon sausages, rather under than over; ----that he might have room to act in---- It was owing to the neglect of that very precaution, said my uncle _Toby_, laying his hand upon _Trim's_ shoulder, that Count _De la Motte_ lost the battle of _Wynendale_: he pressed too speedily into the wood; which if he had not done, _Lisle_ had not fallen into our hands, nor _Ghent_ and _Bruges_, which both followed her example; it was so late in the year, continued my uncle _Toby_, and so terrible a season came on, that if things had not fallen out as they did, our troops must have perish'd in the open field.---- ----Why, therefore, may not battles, an' please your honour, as well as marriages, be made in heaven? --My uncle _Toby_ mused---- Religion inclined him to say one thing, and his high idea of military skill tempted him to say another; so not being able to frame a reply exactly to his mind----my uncle _Toby_ said nothing at all; and the corporal finished his story. As _Tom_ perceived, an' please your honour, that he gained ground, and that all he had said upon the subject of sausages was kindly taken, he went on to help her a little in making them. ----First, by taking hold of the ring of the sausage whilst she stroked the forced meat down with her hand----then by cutting the strings into proper lengths, and holding them in his hand, whilst she took them out one by one----then, by putting them across her mouth, that she might take them out as she wanted them----and so on from little to more, till at last he adventured to tie the sausage himself, whilst she held the snout.---- ----Now a widow, an' please your honour, always chuses a second husband as unlike the first as she can: so the affair was more than half settled in her mind before _Tom_ mentioned it. She made a feint however of defending herself, by snatching up a sausage: ----_Tom_ instantly laid hold of another------ But seeing _Tom's_ had more gristle in it------ She signed the capitulation----and _Tom_ sealed it; and there was an end of the matter.

'Tom walked past the Moorish girl, and went on into the room beyond, to talk to the Jew's widow about love, and this pound of sausages; and being, as I have said, an open cheery-hearted lad, he took a chair, and with great civility placed it close to her at the table, and sat down. 'There is nothing so awkward as courting a woman whilst she is making sausages - so Tom began a discourse upon them; first, gravely, "as to how they were made - with what meats, herbs, and spices;" then a little gaily, as, "With what skins - whether the largest were not the best?" - and so on - taking care to under-season what he had to say upon sausages, rather than over-season; so that he might have room to act-' 'It was owing to the neglect of that very precaution,' said my uncle Toby, laying his hand upon Trim's shoulder, 'that Count De la Motte lost the battle of Wynnendale: he pressed too speedily into the wood, and let Lisle fall into our hands, and then Ghent and Bruges; it was so late in the year, and so terrible a season came on, that otherwise our troops might have perished-' 'Why may not battles, your honour, as well as marriages, be made in heaven?' My uncle Toby mused- Religion inclined him to say one thing, and his idea of military skill another. Not being able to frame a reply, he said nothing; and the corporal finished his story. 'As Tom saw that he gained ground, and that all he said upon the subject of sausages was kindly taken, he went on to help her in making them. - First, by taking hold of the ring of the sausage whilst she stroked the meat down with her hand - then by cutting the strings into proper lengths, and holding them whilst she took them one by one - and so on, till at last he ventured to tie the sausage himself, whilst she held the snout. 'Now a widow, your honour, always chooses a second husband as unlike the first as she can: so the affair was half settled in her mind before Tom mentioned it. 'She made a feint however of defending herself, by snatching up a sausage: Tom instantly laid hold of another. 'But seeing Tom's had more gristle in it- 'She signed the agreement; Tom sealed it; and there was an end of the matter.'

Tristram Shandy

Book 9 - Chapter 7

The Fates, who certainly all foreknew of these amours of widow _Wadman_ and my uncle _Toby_, had, from the first creation of matter and motion (and with more courtesy than they usually do things of this kind), established such a chain of causes and effects hanging so fast to one another, that it was scarce possible for my uncle _Toby_ to have dwelt in any other house in the world, or to have occupied any other garden in _Christendom_, but the very house and garden which join'd and laid parallel to Mrs. _Wadman's_; this, with the advantage of a thickset arbour in Mrs. _Wadman's_ garden, but planted in the hedge-row of my uncle _Toby's_, put all the occasions into her hands which Love-militancy wanted; she could observe my uncle _Toby's_ motions, and was mistress likewise of his councils of war; and as his unsuspecting heart had given leave to the corporal, through the mediation of _Bridget_, to make her a wicker-gate of communication to enlarge her walks, it enabled her to carry on her approaches to the very door of the sentry-box; and sometimes out of gratitude, to make an attack, and endeavour to blow my uncle _Toby_ up in the very sentry-box itself.

The Fates, who certainly foresaw these amours of widow Wadman and my uncle Toby, had, from the first creation of matter, established such a chain of causes and effects, that it was scarce possible for my uncle Toby to have dwelt in any other house in the world, or to have occupied any other garden, but the very house and garden which lay next to Mrs. Wadman's. This, with the advantage of a thickset arbour in Mrs. Wadman's garden, but planted in the hedge-row of my uncle Toby's, gave her all the occasions Love-militancy wanted. She could observe my uncle Toby's movements, and hear his councils of war; and as he had unsuspectingly given leave to the corporal, through Bridget, to make Widow Wadman a communicating wicker-gate to enlarge her walks, it enabled her to approach the very door of the sentry-box; and sometimes out of gratitude to make an attack, and try to blow my uncle Toby up in the very sentry-box itself.

Tristram Shandy

Book 8 - Chapter 14

Trim can repeat every word of it by heart, quoth my uncle _Toby_. --Pugh! said my father, not caring to be interrupted with _Trim's_ saying his Catechism. He can, upon my honour, replied my uncle _Toby_. --Ask him, Mr. _Yorick_, any question you please.---- --The fifth Commandment, _Trim_--said _Yorick_, speaking mildly, and with a gentle nod, as to a modest Catechumen. The corporal stood silent. --You don't ask him right, said my uncle _Toby_, raising his voice, and giving it rapidly like the word of command: ----The fifth--------cried my uncle _Toby_. --I must begin with the first, an' please your honour, said the corporal.---- --_Yorick_ could not forbear smiling. --Your reverence does not consider, said the corporal, shouldering his stick like a musket, and marching into the middle of the room, to illustrate his position, --that 'tis exactly the same thing, as doing one's exercise in the field.-- "_Join your right-hand to your firelock_," cried the corporal, giving the word of command, and performing the motion.-- "_Poise your firelock_," cried the corporal, doing the duty still both of adjutant and private man. "_Rest your firelock_;" --one motion, an' please your reverence, you see leads into another. --If his honour will begin but with the _first_-- THE FIRST--cried my uncle _Toby_, setting his hand upon his side-- * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * THE SECOND--cried my uncle _Toby_, waving his tobacco-pipe, as he would have done his sword at the head of a regiment. --The corporal went through his _manual_ with exactness! and having _honoured his father and mother_, made a low bow, and fell back to the side of the room. Everything in this world, said my father, is big with jest, --and has wit in it, and instruction too, --if we can but find it out. --Here is the _scaffold work_ of INSTRUCTION, its true point of folly, without the BUILDING behind it. --Here is the glass for pedagogues, preceptors, tutors, governors, gerund-grinders, and bear-leaders, to view themselves in, in their true dimensions.-- Oh! there is a husk and shell, _Yorick_, which grows up with learning, which their unskilfulness knows not how to fling away! --SCIENCES MAY BE LEARNED BY ROTE, BUT WISDOM NOT. _Yorick_ thought my father inspired. --I will enter into obligations this moment, said my father, to lay out all my aunt _Dinah's_ legacy in charitable uses (of which, by the bye, my father had no high opinion), if the corporal has any one determinate idea annexed to any one word he has repeated. --Prythee, _Trim_, quoth my father, turning round to him, --What dost thou mean, by "_honouring thy father and mother?_" Allowing them, an' please your honour, three half-pence a day out of my pay, when they grow old. --And didst thou do that, _Trim?_ said _Yorick_. --He did indeed, replied my uncle _Toby_. --Then, _Trim_, said _Yorick_, springing out of his chair, and taking the corporal by the hand, thou art the best commentator upon that part of the _Decalogue_; and I honour thee more for it, corporal _Trim_, than if thou hadst had a hand in the _Talmud_ itself.

'Trim can repeat every word of it by heart,' quoth my uncle Toby. 'Pugh!' said my father, not caring to be interrupted with Trim's saying his Catechism. 'He can, upon my honour,' replied my uncle. 'Ask him, Mr. Yorick, any question you please.' 'The fifth Commandment, Trim,' said Yorick mildly, with a gentle nod. The corporal stood silent. 'You don't ask him right,' said my uncle Toby. Raising his voice to a rapid tone of command, he cried: 'The fifth.' 'I must begin with the first, an' please your honour,' said the corporal. Yorick could not help smiling. 'Your reverence does not consider,' said the corporal, shouldering his stick like a musket, and marching into the middle of the room, 'that 'tis exactly the same thing as presenting arms. - "Join your right-hand to your firelock. Poise your firelock. Now rest your firelock,"' said he, demonstrating with his stick, and acting as both commander and soldier. 'You see one leads into another. If his honour will begin but with the first-' 'The First,' cried my uncle Toby, waving his tobacco-pipe like a sword. The corporal went through his manual with exactness; and having honoured his father and mother, made a low bow, and stepped aside. 'Everything in this world,' said my father, 'is big with jest, and has wit in it, if we can but find it. 'Here in the Catechism is the scaffolding of Instruction, without the Building behind it. 'Here is the looking-glass for teachers, tutors, and gerund-grinders, to view themselves in. 'Oh! there is a husk and shell, Yorick, which grows up with learning, which they know not how to fling away! 'Sciences may be learned by rote, but wisdom not.' Yorick thought my father was inspired. 'I will promise this moment,' said my father, 'to donate all my aunt Dinah's legacy to charitable causes' (of which, by the bye, my father had no high opinion), 'if the corporal has any one distinct idea attached to any one word he has repeated.- Prithee, Trim,' quoth my father, turning to him, 'What dost thou mean, by "honouring thy father and mother?"' 'Allowing them, an' please your honour, three half-pence a day out of my pay, when they grow old.' 'And didst thou do that, Trim?' said Yorick. 'He did indeed,' replied my uncle Toby. 'Then, Trim,' said Yorick, springing out of his chair, and shaking the corporal's hand, 'thou art the best commentator upon that commandment; and I honour thee more for it, corporal Trim, than if thou hadst had a hand in the Talmud itself.'

Tristram Shandy

Book 5 - Chapter 32

As Mrs. _Bridget_ opened the door before the corporal had well given the rap, the interval betwixt that and my uncle _Toby's_ introduction into the parlour, was so short, that Mrs. _Wadman_ had but just time to get from behind the curtain----lay a Bible upon the table, and advance a step or two towards the door to receive him. My uncle _Toby_ saluted Mrs. _Wadman_, after the manner in which women were saluted by men in the year of our Lord God one thousand seven hundred and thirteen----then facing about, he march'd up abreast with her to the sopha, and in three plain words----though not before he was sat down----nor after he was sat down----but as he was sitting down, told her, "_he was in love_"----so that my uncle _Toby_ strained himself more in the declaration than he needed. Mrs. _Wadman_ naturally looked down, upon a slit she had been darning up in her apron, in expectation every moment, that my uncle _Toby_ would go on; but having no talents for amplification, and Love moreover of all others being a subject of which he was the least a master ----When he had told Mrs. _Wadman_ once that he loved her, he let it alone, and left the matter to work after its own way. My father was always in raptures with this system of my uncle _Toby's_, as he falsely called it, and would often say, that could his brother _Toby_ to his process have added but a pipe of tobacco----he had wherewithal to have found his way, if there was faith in a _Spanish_ proverb, towards the hearts of half the women upon the globe. My uncle _Toby_ never understood what my father meant; nor will I presume to extract more from it, than a condemnation of an error which the bulk of the world lie under----but the _French_ every one of 'em to a man, who believe in it, almost, as much as the REAL PRESENCE, "_That talking of love, is making it_." ------I would as soon set about making a black-pudding by the same receipt. Let us go on: Mrs. _Wadman_ sat in expectation my uncle _Toby_ would do so, to almost the first pulsation of that minute, wherein silence on one side or the other, generally becomes indecent: so edging herself a little more towards him, and raising up her eyes, sub-blushing, as she did it----she took up the gauntlet----or the discourse (if you like it better) and communed with my uncle _Toby_, thus: The cares and disquietudes of the marriage state, quoth Mrs. _Wadman_, are very great. I suppose so--said my uncle _Toby_: and therefore when a person, continued Mrs. _Wadman_, is so much at his ease as you are--so happy, captain _Shandy_, in yourself, your friends and your amusements --I wonder, what reasons can incline you to the state------ ----They are written, quoth my uncle _Toby_, in the Common-Prayer Book. Thus far my uncle _Toby_ went on warily, and kept within his depth, leaving Mrs. _Wadman_ to sail upon the gulph as she pleased. ----As for children--said Mrs. _Wadman_--though a principal end perhaps of the institution, and the natural wish, I suppose, of every parent--yet do not we all find, they are certain sorrows, and very uncertain comforts? and what is there, dear sir, to pay one for the heart-aches--what compensation for the many tender and disquieting apprehensions of a suffering and defenceless mother who brings them into life? I declare, said my uncle _Toby_, smit with pity, I know of none; unless it be the pleasure which it has pleased God---- A fiddlestick! quoth she.

As Mrs. Bridget opened the door before the corporal had properly knocked, the interval before my uncle Toby's entrance into the parlour was so short that Mrs. Wadman had just time to get from behind the curtain, - lay a Bible upon the table, and advance to receive him. My uncle Toby saluted Mrs. Wadman in the manner of 1713 - then, turning around, he marched up abreast with her to the sofa, and in three plain words - though not before he was sat down - nor after he was sat down - but as he was sitting down, told her, 'he was in love.' Mrs. Wadman naturally looked down, expecting that my uncle Toby would go on; but having no talents for amplification, and Love being a subject of which he had no mastery - having told her once that he loved her, he let it alone, and left the matter to work its own way. My father was always in raptures with this system of my uncle Toby's, as he falsely called it; and would often say, that if his brother could have added a pipe of tobacco to his process, he would have found his way towards the hearts of half the women on the globe. My uncle Toby never understood what my father meant; nor will I presume to extract more from it, than a condemnation of an error which most of the world, except the French, lie under - believing 'that talking of love, is making it.' I would as soon set about making a black-pudding by the same recipe. Let us go on: Mrs. Wadman expecting my uncle Toby would do so, until the silence became almost indecent: so edging herself a little more towards him, and raising up her eyes, sub-blushing, as she did it - she took up the gauntlet - or the discourse - with my uncle Toby, thus: 'The cares and worries of the marriage state,' quoth she, 'are very great.' 'I suppose so,' said my uncle Toby. 'And therefore when a person,' continued Mrs. Wadman, 'is so much at his ease as you are - so happy, captain Shandy, in yourself, your friends and your amusements - I wonder, what reasons can incline you to the state?' 'They are written,' quoth my uncle, 'in the Common-Prayer Book.' Thus far my uncle Toby went on warily, and kept within his depth, leaving Mrs. Wadman to sail upon the gulf as she pleased. 'As for children,' said Mrs. Wadman, 'though a principal end of marriage, and the natural wish, I suppose, of every parent - yet do not we all find, they are certain sorrows, and very uncertain comforts? and what compensation is there, dear sir, for the many worries of a suffering and defenceless mother who brings them into life?' 'I declare,' said my uncle Toby, smitten with pity, 'I know of none; unless it be the pleasure which it has pleased God-' 'A fiddlestick!' quoth she.

Tristram Shandy

Book 9 - Chapter 18

--Now, quoth _Didius_, rising up, and laying his right hand with his fingers spread upon his breast----had such a blunder about a christian-name happened before the Reformation ------[It happened the day before yesterday, quoth my uncle _Toby_ to himself] and when baptism was administer'd in _Latin_ --['Twas all in _English_, said my uncle]------ many things might have coincided with it, and upon the authority of sundry decreed cases, to have pronounced the baptism null, with a power of giving the child a new name --Had a priest, for instance, which was no uncommon thing, through ignorance of the _Latin_ tongue, baptized a child of Tom-o'Stiles, _in nomine patri & filia & spiritum sanctos_--the baptism was held null. ----I beg your pardon, replied _Kysarcius_----in that case, as the mistake was only the _terminations_, the baptism was valid----and to have rendered it null, the blunder of the priest should have fallen upon the first syllable of each noun------and not, as in your case, upon the last. My father delighted in subtleties of this kind, and listen'd with infinite attention. _Gastripheres_, for example, continued _Kysarcius_, baptizes a child of _John Stradling's_ in _Gomine_ gatris, &c., &c., instead of _in Nomine_ patris, &c. ----Is this a baptism? No--say the ablest canonists; in as much as the radix of each word is hereby torn up, and the sense and meaning of them removed and changed quite to another object; for _Gomine_ does not signify a name, nor _gatris_ a father. --What do they signify? said my uncle _Toby_. --Nothing at all------quoth _Yorick_. ----Ergo, such a baptism is null, said _Kysarcius_.---- In course, answered _Yorick_, in a tone two parts jest and one part earnest.---- But in the case cited, continued _Kysarcius_, where _patri_ is put for _patris_, _filia_ for _filii_, and so on----as it is a fault only in the declension, and the roots of the words continue untouch'd, the inflections of their branches either this way or that, does not in any sort hinder the baptism, inasmuch as the same sense continues in the words as before. ----But then, said _Didius_, the intention of the priest's pronouncing them grammatically must have been proved to have gone along with it. ------------Right, answered _Kysarcius_; and of this, brother _Didius_, we have an instance in a decree of the decretals of Pope _Leo_ the IIId. ----But my brother's child, cried my uncle _Toby_, has nothing to do with the Pope------'tis the plain child of a Protestant gentleman, christen'd _Tristram_ against the wills and wishes both of his father and mother, and all who are a-kin to it.---- If the wills and wishes, said _Kysarcius_, interrupting my uncle _Toby_, of those only who stand related to Mr. _Shandy's_ child, were to have weight in this matter, Mrs. _Shandy_, of all people, has the least to do in it. ----My uncle _Toby_ lay'd down his pipe, and my father drew his chair still closer to the table, to hear the conclusion of so strange an introduction. ----It has not only been a question, Captain _Shandy_, amongst the[4.10] best lawyers and civilians in this land, continued _Kysarcius_, "_Whether the mother be of kin to her child_," --but, after much dispassionate enquiry and jactitation of the arguments on all sides--it has been abjudged for the negative--namely, "_That the mother is not of kin to her child_."[4.11] My father instantly clapp'd his hand upon my uncle _Toby's_ mouth, under colour of whispering in his ear; --the truth was, he was alarmed for _Lillabullero_--and having a great desire to hear more of so curious an argument--he begg'd my uncle _Toby_, for Heaven's sake, not to disappoint him in it. --My uncle _Toby_ gave a nod--resumed his pipe, and contenting himself with whistling _Lillabullero_ inwardly----_Kysarcius_, _Didius_, and _Triptolemus_ went on with the discourse as follows. This determination, continued _Kysarcius_, how contrary soever it may seem to run to the stream of vulgar ideas, yet had reason strongly on its side; and has been put out of all manner of dispute from the famous case, known commonly by the name of the Duke of _Suffolk's_ case. ------It is cited in _Brook_, said _Triptolemus_ ------And taken notice of by Lord _Coke_, added _Didius_. --And you may find it in _Swinburn_ on Testaments, said _Kysarcius_. The case, Mr. _Shandy_, was this. In the reign of _Edward_ the Sixth, _Charles_ duke of _Suffolk_ having issue a son by one venter, and a daughter by another venter, made his last will, wherein he devised goods to his son, and died; after whose death the son died also----but without will, without wife, and without child--his mother and his sister by the father's side (for she was born of the former venter) then living. The mother took the administration of her son's goods, according to the statute of the 21st of _Harry_ the Eighth, whereby it is enacted, That in case any person die intestate the administration of his goods shall be committed to the next of kin. The administration being thus (surreptitiously) granted to the mother, the sister by the father's side commenced a suit before the Ecclesiastical Judge, alledging, 1st, That she herself was next of kin; and 2dly, That the mother was not of kin at all to the party deceased; and therefore prayed the court, that the administration granted to the mother might be revoked, and be committed unto her, as next of kin to the deceased, by force of the said statute. Hereupon, as it was a great cause, and much depending upon its issue--and many causes of great property likely to be decided in times to come, by the precedent to be then made----the most learned, as well in the laws of this realm, as in the civil law, were consulted together, whether the mother was of kin to her son, or no. --Whereunto not only the temporal lawyers----but the church lawyers--the juris-consulti--the juris-prudentes--the civilians--the advocates--the commissaries--the judges of the consistory and prerogative courts of _Canterbury_ and _York_, with the master of the faculties, were all unanimously of opinion, That the mother was not of[4.12] kin to her child.---- And what said the duchess of _Suffolk_ to it? said my uncle _Toby_. The unexpectedness of my uncle _Toby's_ question, confounded _Kysarcius_ more than the ablest advocate ----He stopp'd a full minute, looking in my uncle _Toby's_ face without replying----and in that single minute _Triptolemus_ put by him, and took the lead as follows. 'Tis a ground and principle in the law, said _Triptolemus_, that things do not ascend, but descend in it; and I make no doubt 'tis for this cause, that however true it is, that the child may be of the blood and seed of its parents----that the parents, nevertheless, are not of the blood and seed of it; inasmuch as the parents are not begot by the child, but the child by the parents --For so they write, _Liberi sunt de sanguine patris & matris, sed pater & mater non sunt de sanguine liberorum_. ----But this, _Triptolemus_, cried _Didius_, proves too much--for from this authority cited it would follow, not only what indeed is granted on all sides, that the mother is not of kin to her child--but the father likewise. ----It is held, said _Triptolemus_, the better opinion; because the father, the mother, and the child, though they be three persons, yet are they but (_una caro_[4.13]) one flesh; and consequently no degree of kindred----or any method of acquiring one _in nature_. ----There you push the argument again too far, cried _Didius_----for there is no prohibition _in nature_, though there is in the Levitical law----but that a man may beget a child upon his grandmother----in which case, supposing the issue a daughter, she would stand in relation both of ----But who ever thought, cried _Kysarcius_, of lying with his grandmother? ------The young gentleman, replied _Yorick_, whom _Selden_ speaks of----who not only thought of it, but justified his intention to his father by the argument drawn from the law of retaliation. --"You lay, Sir, with my mother," said the lad-- "why may not I lie with yours?" ----'Tis the _Argumentum commune_, added _Yorick_. ----'Tis as good, replied _Eugenius_, taking down his hat, as they deserve. The company broke up. [Footnote 4.10: Vide Swinburn on Testaments, Part 7, 8.] [Footnote 4.11: Vide Brook, Abridg. Tit. Administr. N. 47.] [Footnote 4.12: Mater non numeratur inter consanguineos, Bald. in ult. C. de Verb. signific.] [Footnote 4.13: Vide Brook, Abridg. tit. Administr. N. 47.]

'Now,' quoth Didius, rising up, 'if such a blunder about a Christian name had happened before the Reformation, when baptism was administered in Latin, - many things might have occurred which would allow an authority to pronounce the baptism null, with a power of giving the child a new name. Had a priest, for instance, through ignorance of the Latin tongue, baptized a child in nomine patriae et filia et spiritum sanctos - the baptism was held null.' 'I beg your pardon,' replied Kysarcius, 'in that case, as the mistake was only the word-endings, the baptism was valid. To have rendered it null, the priest should have blundered on the first syllable of each noun, and not the last.' My father delighted in subtleties of this kind, and listened with great attention. 'If Gastripheres, for example,' continued Kysarcius, 'baptizes a child of John Stradling's in gomine gatris, instead of in nomine patris - is this a baptism? No: for the root of each word is torn up, and it becomes meaningless; therefore, it is null.' 'Of course,' answered Yorick, in a tone part jest and part earnest. 'But in the case cited,' continued Kysarcius, 'with patriae for patris, and so on - as it is a fault only in the declension, and the roots of the words and their meaning continue untouched, it does not hinder the baptism. We have an instance in a decree of Pope Leo the Third-' 'But my brother's child has nothing to do with the Pope,' cried my uncle Toby; ''tis the child of a Protestant gentleman, christened Tristram against the wishes of his father and mother, and all his kin.' 'If the wishes of only Mr. Shandy's family were to have weight in this matter,' said Kysarcius, 'Mrs. Shandy, of all people, has the least.' My uncle Toby laid down his pipe, and my father drew his chair closer to the table, to hear more. 'It has been a question, Captain Shandy, amongst the best lawyers in this land,' continued Kysarcius, '"whether the mother be of kin to her child;" but, after much enquiry into all the arguments - it has been judged for the negative: namely, "That the mother is not of kin to her child."' My father instantly clapped his hand upon my uncle Toby's mouth, under the pretence of whispering in his ear; the truth was, he was alarmed for Lillabullero, for he had a great desire to hear more of so curious an argument. My uncle Toby resumed his pipe, and contenting himself with whistling Lillabullero inwardly. 'This decision,' continued Kysarcius, 'however contrary it may seem to run to vulgar ideas, yet had reason strongly on its side; and has been put beyond dispute by the famous case of the Duke of Suffolk. The case, Mr. Shandy, was this. 'In the reign of Edward the Sixth, Charles duke of Suffolk, having a son by one mother, and a daughter by another, made his last will, wherein he left his goods to his son, and died. After his death the son died also - but without a will, without wife or child. Since his mother and his sister by the father's side were then living, the mother took the administration of her son's goods, according to the 21st statute of Harry the Eighth, whereby if any person should die intestate the administration of his goods shall be committed to the next of kin. 'The administration being thus granted to the mother, the sister began a suit before the Ecclesiastical Judge, alleging, first, that she herself was next of kin; and second, that the mother was not of kin at all to the deceased son; and therefore she prayed the court that the administration of the estate might be revoked from the mother and given to her. 'As it was a great cause, with much depending upon its result, the most learned lawyers were consulted as to whether the mother was of kin to her son, or no. All the lawyers and judges were unanimously of the opinion, that the mother was not of kin to her child.' 'And what said the duchess of Suffolk to it?' said my uncle Toby. The unexpectedness of my uncle's question confounded Kysarcius. He paused, and Triptolemus took over. ''Tis a principle in the law,' said Triptolemus, 'that things do not ascend, but descend in it; so that however true it is, that the child is of the blood and seed of its parents - the parents, nevertheless, are not of the blood and seed of the child; for they are not begot by the child.' 'But Triptolemus,' cried Didius, 'from this it would follow, not only that the mother is not of kin to her child - but the father likewise.' 'It is held,' said Triptolemus, 'that the father, the mother, and the child, though they be three persons, yet are they but one flesh; and consequently no degree of kindred.' 'There you push the argument again too far,' cried Didius, 'for there is no prohibition in nature - though there is in the Bible - to prevent a man from begetting a child upon his grandmother - in which case, supposing the issue a daughter, she would stand in relation both of-' 'But who ever thought,' cried Kysarcius, 'of lying with his grandmother?' 'A young gentleman in one case,' replied Yorick, 'not only thought of it, but justified his intention to his father by the law of retaliation. "You lay, Sir, with my mother," said the lad; "why may not I lie with yours?" 'Tis the Argumentum commune - the argument of the common public.' ''Tis as good,' replied Eugenius, 'as they deserve.' The company broke up.

Tristram Shandy

Book 4 - Chapter 29

No matter--as an appendage to seamstressy, the thread-paper might be of some consequence to my mother--of none to my father, as a mark in _Slawkenbergius_. _Slawkenbergius_ in every page of him was a rich treasure of inexhaustible knowledge to my father--he could not open him amiss; and he would often say in closing the book, that if all the arts and sciences in the world, with the books which treated of them, were lost--should the wisdom and policies of governments, he would say, through disuse, ever happen to be forgot, and all that statesmen had wrote or caused to be written, upon the strong or the weak sides of courts and kingdoms, should they be forgot also--and _Slawkenbergius_ only left----there would be enough in him in all conscience, he would say, to set the world a-going again. A treasure therefore was he indeed! an institute of all that was necessary to be known of noses, and everything else--at _matin_, noon, and vespers was _Hafen Slawkenbergius_ his recreation and delight: 'twas for ever in his hands----you would have sworn, Sir, it had been a canon's prayer-book--so worn, so glazed, so contrited and attrited was it with fingers and with thumbs in all its parts, from one end even unto the other. I am not such a bigot to _Slawkenbergius_ as my father; ----there is a fund in him, no doubt: but in my opinion, the best, I don't say the most profitable, but the most amusing part of _Hafen Slawkenbergius_, is his tales------and, considering he was a _German_, many of them told not without fancy: ------these take up his second book, containing nearly one half of his folio, and are comprehended in ten decads, each decad containing ten tales ------Philosophy is not built upon tales; and therefore 'twas certainly wrong in _Slawkenbergius_ to send them into the world by that name! ----there are a few of them in his eighth, ninth, and tenth decads, which I own seem rather playful and sportive, than speculative--but in general they are to be looked upon by the learned as a detail of so many independent facts, all of them turning round somehow or other upon the main hinges of his subject, and collected by him with great fidelity, and added to his work as so many illustrations upon the doctrines of noses. As we have leisure enough upon our hands----if you give me leave, madam, I'll tell you the ninth tale of his tenth decad. [Transcriber's Note: Like the Excommunication, the following section was printed on facing pages. For this e-text it is given in consecutive paragraphs, with the Latin text inset.]

Every page of Slawkenbergius was a rich treasure of knowledge to my father; and he would often say in closing the book, that if all the arts and sciences in the world were lost - should the wisdom of governments ever be forgot, and Slawkenbergius only were left - there would be enough in him, he would say, to set the world a-going again. A treasure therefore was he indeed! an institute of all that needed to be known about noses, and everything else. All day was Hafen Slawkenbergius his recreation and delight: 'twas for ever in his hands, as worn and thumbed as a canon's prayer-book. In my opinion, the best, or at least the most amusing part of Hafen Slawkenbergius is his tales - and, considering he was a German, many of them told quite imaginatively. These take up his second book, and are contained in ten decads, each decad having ten tales - there are a few in his eighth, ninth, and tenth decads, which I own seem rather playful - but in general they all turn somehow or other upon the main hinges of his subject, and were collected by him as so many illustrations upon the doctrines of noses. As we have leisure upon our hands - if you give me leave, madam, I'll tell you the ninth tale of his tenth decad.

Tristram Shandy

Book 3 - Chapter 42

Amongst the many ill consequences of the treaty of _Utrecht_, it was within a point of giving my uncle _Toby_ a surfeit of sieges; and though he recovered his appetite afterwards, yet _Calais_ itself left not a deeper scar in _Mary's_ heart, than _Utrecht_ upon my uncle _Toby's_. To the end of his life he never could hear _Utrecht_ mentioned upon any account whatever, --or so much as read an article of news extracted out of the _Utrecht Gazette_, without fetching a sigh, as if his heart would break in twain. My father, who was a great MOTIVE-MONGER, and consequently a very dangerous person for a man to sit by, either laughing or crying, --for he generally knew your motive for doing both, much better than you knew it yourself--would always console my uncle _Toby_ upon these occasions, in a way, which shewed plainly, he imagined my uncle _Toby_ grieved for nothing in the whole affair, so much as the loss of his _hobby-horse_. ----Never mind, brother _Toby_, he would say, --by God's blessing we shall have another war break out again some of these days; and when it does, --the belligerent powers, if they would hang themselves, cannot keep us out of play. ----I defy 'em, my dear _Toby_, he would add, to take countries without taking towns, ----or towns without sieges. My uncle _Toby_ never took this back-stroke of my father's at his hobby-horse kindly. ----He thought the stroke ungenerous; and the more so, because in striking the horse he hit the rider too, and in the most dishonourable part a blow could fall; so that upon these occasions, he always laid down his pipe upon the table with more fire to defend himself than common. I told the reader, this time two years, that my uncle _Toby_ was not eloquent; and in the very same page gave an instance to the contrary: ----I repeat the observation, and a fact which contradicts it again. --He was not eloquent, --it was not easy to my uncle _Toby_ to make long harangues, --and he hated florid ones; but there were occasions where the stream overflowed the man, and ran so counter to its usual course, that in some parts my uncle _Toby_, for a time, was at least equal to _Tertullus_----but in others, in my own opinion, infinitely above him. My father was so highly pleased with one of these apologetical orations of my uncle _Toby's_, which he had delivered one evening before him and _Yorick_, that he wrote it down before he went to bed. I have had the good fortune to meet with it amongst my father's papers, with here and there an insertion of his own, betwixt two crooks, thus [ ], and is endorsed, MY BROTHER TOBY'S JUSTIFICATION OF HIS OWN PRINCIPLES AND CONDUCT IN WISHING TO CONTINUE THE WAR I may safely say, I have read over this apologetical oration of my uncle _Toby's_ a hundred times, and think it so fine a model of defence, --and shows so sweet a temperament of gallantry and good principles in him, that I give it the world, word for word (interlineations and all), as I find it.

Amongst the many ill consequences of the treaty of Utrecht, it almost gave my uncle Toby a surfeit of sieges; and though he recovered his appetite afterwards, it left its scar upon his heart. To the end of his life he never could hear Utrecht mentioned, or even read an article of news from the Utrecht Gazette, without sighing as if his heart would break. My father, who was a great Motive-monger, and generally knew your motive for laughing or crying much better than you knew it yourself - would always console my uncle Toby upon these occasions as if he imagined my uncle Toby grieved for nothing so much as the loss of his hobby-horse. 'Never mind, brother Toby,' he would say; 'by God's blessing we shall have another war break out again one of these days. - For I defy 'em, my dear Toby, to take countries without taking towns, or towns without sieges.' My uncle Toby did not take this kindly. He thought the stroke at his hobby-horse ungenerous, because in striking the horse he hit the rider too, and in the most dishonourable part possible; so upon these occasions, he always laid down his pipe upon the table to defend himself with more fire than usual. I told the reader that my uncle Toby was not eloquent. Certainly it was not easy for him to make long harangues, and he hated florid speeches; but there were times where the stream overflowed the man, and ran so counter to its usual course, that my uncle Toby, for a time, was equal to Tertullus. My father was so highly pleased with one of these speeches of my uncle Toby's, which he delivered one evening to him and Yorick, that he wrote it down before he went to bed. I have had the good fortune to find it amongst my father's papers, with here and there an insertion of his own, betwixt two crooks, thus [ ]. It is labelled, MY BROTHER TOBY'S JUSTIFICATION OF HIS OWN PRINCIPLES AND CONDUCT IN WISHING TO CONTINUE THE WAR I may safely say, I have read this oration of my uncle Toby's a hundred times, and think it so fine a model of defence - it shows so sweet and gallant a temperament, that I give it to the world, word for word as I find it.

Tristram Shandy

Book 6 - Chapter 31

I had escaped, continued the corporal, all that time from falling in love, and had gone on to the end of the chapter, had it not been predestined otherwise----there is no resisting our fate. It was on a _Sunday_, in the afternoon, as I told your honour. The old man and his wife had walked out---- Everything was still and hush as midnight about the house---- There was not so much as a duck or a duckling about the yard---- ----When the fair _Beguine_ came in to see me. My wound was then in a fair way of doing well----the inflammation had been gone off for some time, but it was succeeded with an itching both above and below my knee, so insufferable, that I had not shut my eyes the whole night for it. Let me see it, said she, kneeling down upon the ground parallel to my knee, and laying her hand upon the part below it----it only wants rubbing a little, said the _Beguine_; so covering it with the bed-clothes, she began with the forefinger of her right hand to rub under my knee, guiding her forefinger backwards and forwards by the edge of the _flannel_ which kept on the dressing. In five or six minutes I felt slightly the end of her second finger--and presently it was laid flat with the other, and she continued rubbing in that way round and round for a good while; it then came into my head, that I should fall in love --I blush'd when I saw how white a hand she had --I shall never, an' please your honour, behold another hand so white whilst I live---- ----Not in that place; said my uncle _Toby_---- Though it was the most serious despair in nature to the corporal--he could not forbear smiling. The young _Beguine_, continued the corporal, perceiving it was of great service to me--from rubbing for some time, with two fingers--proceeded to rub at length, with three--till by little and little she brought down the fourth, and then rubb'd with her whole hand: I will never say another word, an' please your honour, upon hands again--but it was softer than sattin-- ----Prithee, _Trim_, commend it as much as thou wilt, said my uncle _Toby_; I shall hear thy story with the more delight ----The corporal thank'd his master most unfeignedly; but having nothing to say upon the _Beguine's_ hand but the same over again----he proceeded to the effects of it. The fair _Beguine_, said the corporal, continued rubbing with her whole hand under my knee--till I fear'd her zeal would weary her---- "I would do a thousand times more," said she, "for the love of Christ" ----In saying which, she pass'd her hand across the flannel, to the part above my knee, which I had equally complain'd of, and rubb'd it also. I perceived, then, I was beginning to be in love---- As she continued rub-rub-rubbing --I felt it spread from under her hand, an' please your honour, to every part of my frame.---- The more she rubb'd, and the longer strokes she took----the more the fire kindled in my veins----till at length, by two or three strokes longer than the rest----my passion rose to the highest pitch ----I seiz'd her hand---- ----And then thou clapped'st it to thy lips, _Trim_, said my uncle _Toby_----and madest a speech. Whether the corporal's amour terminated precisely in the way my uncle _Toby_ described it, is not material; it is enough that it contained in it the essence of all the love romances which ever have been wrote since the beginning of the world.

'On a Sunday afternoon, the old man and his wife had walked out- 'Everything was still as midnight about the house- 'There was not so much as a duck or a duckling in the yard- -'when the fair Beguine came in to see me. 'My wound was then doing fairly well - the inflammation had gone, but I had an itch both above and below my knee, so insufferable that I had not slept for it. '"Let me see it," said she, kneeling down, and laying her hand upon the part below my knee - "it only wants rubbing a little;" so covering it with the bed-clothes, she began with the forefinger of her right hand to rub under my knee, guiding her finger by the edge of the dressing. 'In five or six minutes I felt the end of her second finger - and presently it was laid flat with the other, and she continued rubbing in that way round and round for a good while. It then came into my head, that I should fall in love. - I blushed when I saw how white a hand she had - I shall never see another hand so white whilst I live.' 'Not in that place,' said my uncle Toby. Though he was serious, the corporal could not help smiling. 'The young Beguine,' he continued, 'seeing the rubbing helped me greatly, proceeded to rub with three fingers - till by little and little she brought down the fourth, and rubbed with her whole hand: I will never say another word upon hands again - but it was softer than satin-' 'Prithee, Trim, commend it as much as thou wilt,' said my uncle Toby; 'I shall hear thy story with the more delight.' The corporal thanked his master. 'The fair Beguine,' said he, 'continued rubbing with her whole hand under my knee, till I feared her zeal would weary her. "I would do a thousand times more," said she, "for the love of Christ" - In saying which, she moved her hand to the part above my knee, and rubbed it also. 'I perceived, then, I was beginning to be in love- 'As she continued rub-rub-rubbing - I felt it spread from under her hand, your honour, to every part of my frame. 'The more she rubbed, and the longer strokes she took - the more the fire kindled in my veins - till at length, by two or three strokes longer than the rest - my passion rose to the highest pitch - I seized her hand-' '- And then thou clapped it to thy lips, Trim,' said my uncle Toby, 'and made a speech.' Whether the corporal's amour ended precisely in that way, is not important; it is enough that it contained the essence of all the love romances which have ever been wrote since the beginning of the world.

Tristram Shandy

Book 8 - Chapter 22

My uncle _Toby_ turn'd his head more than once behind him, to see how he was supported by the corporal; and the corporal as oft as he did it, gave a slight flourish with his stick--but not vapouringly; and with the sweetest accent of most respectful encouragement, bid his honour "never fear." Now my uncle _Toby_ did fear; and grievously too; he knew not (as my father had reproach'd him) so much as the right end of a Woman from the wrong, and therefore was never altogether at his ease near any one of them----unless in sorrow or distress; then infinite was his pity; nor would the most courteous knight of romance have gone further, at least upon one leg, to have wiped away a tear from a woman's eye; and yet excepting once that he was beguiled into it by Mrs. _Wadman_, he had never looked stedfastly into one; and would often tell my father in the simplicity of his heart, that it was almost (if not about) as bad as talking bawdy.---- ----And suppose it is? my father would say.

My uncle Toby turned his head more than once, to see how he was supported by the corporal; and the corporal gave a slight flourish with his stick - and with most respectful encouragement, bid his honour 'never fear.' Now my uncle Toby did fear, and grievously too; he knew not so much as the right end of a Woman from the wrong, and therefore was never at his ease near one of them - unless in sorrow or distress; then infinite was his pity. Yet except when he was beguiled into it by Mrs. Wadman, he had never looked steadfastly into a woman's eye; and would often tell my father in the simplicity of his heart, that it was almost as bad as talking bawdy. 'And suppose it is?' my father would say.

Tristram Shandy

Book 9 - Chapter 3

To those who call vexations, VEXATIONS, as knowing what they are, there could not be a greater, than to be the best part of a day at _Lyons_, the most opulent and flourishing city in _France_, enriched with the most fragments of antiquity--and not be able to see it. To be withheld upon _any_ account, must be a vexation; but to be withheld _by_ a vexation----must certainly be, what philosophy justly calls VEXATION upon VEXATION. I had got my two dishes of milk coffee (which by the bye is excellently good for a consumption, but you must boil the milk and coffee together--otherwise 'tis only coffee and milk)--and as it was no more than eight in the morning, and the boat did not go off till noon, I had time to see enough of _Lyons_ to tire the patience of all the friends I had in the world with it. I will take a walk to the cathedral, said I, looking at my list, and see the wonderful mechanism of this great clock of _Lippius_ of _Basil_, in the first place---- Now, of all things in the world, I understand the least of mechanism ----I have neither genius, or taste, or fancy--and have a brain so entirely unapt for everything of that kind, that I solemnly declare I was never yet able to comprehend the principles of motion of a squirrel cage, or a common knife-grinder's wheel--tho' I have many an hour of my life look'd up with great devotion at the one--and stood by with as much patience as any christian ever could do, at the other---- I'll go see the surprising movements of this great clock, said I, the very first thing I do: and then I will pay a visit to the great library of the Jesuits, and procure, if possible, a sight of the thirty volumes of the general history of _China_, wrote (not in the _Tartarean_, but) in the _Chinese_ language, and in the _Chinese_ character too. Now I almost know as little of the _Chinese_ language, as I do of the mechanism of _Lippius's_ clock-work; so, why these should have jostled themselves into the two first articles of my list ----I leave to the curious as a problem of Nature. I own it looks like one of her ladyship's obliquities; and they who court her, are interested in finding out her humour as much as I. When these curiosities are seen, quoth I, half addressing myself to my _valet de place_, who stood behind me----'twill be no hurt if we go to the church of St. _Irenus_, and see the pillar to which _Christ_ was tied----and after that, the house where _Pontius Pilate_ lived----'Twas at the next town, said the _valet de place_--at _Vienne_; I am glad of it, said I, rising briskly from my chair, and walking across the room with strides twice as long as my usual pace---- "for so much the sooner shall I be at the _Tomb of the two lovers_." What was the cause of this movement, and why I took such long strides in uttering this ----I might leave to the curious too; but as no principle of clock-work is concerned in it----'twill be as well for the reader if I explain it myself.

There could not be a greater vexation than to spend the best part of a day at Lyons, the most opulent city in France, enriched with antiquities - and not be able to see it. To be withheld for any reason, must be a vexation; but to be withheld by a vexation must certainly be VEXATION upon VEXATION. I had got my two dishes of milky coffee (which by the bye is excellently good for a consumption, but you must boil the milk and coffee together - otherwise 'tis only coffee and milk) - and as it was only eight in the morning, and the boat did not go till noon, I had time to see some of Lyons. 'I will walk to the cathedral,' said I, 'and see the wonderful mechanism of this great clock of Lippius.' Now, of all things in the world, I understand the least of mechanism. I was never yet able to comprehend the principles of a squirrel cage, or a knife-grinder's wheel. 'First I'll see the surprising movements of this great clock,' said I; 'and then I will visit the great library of the Jesuits, and get a sight of the thirty volumes of the history of China, wrote in the Chinese language.' Now I know as little of the Chinese language as I do of the mechanism of Lippius's clock-work; so why these two should have jostled themselves into my mind, I know not. 'When these curiosities are seen,' quoth I to my valet, 'we will go to the church of St. Ireneus, and see the pillar to which Christ was tied, and then the house where Pontius Pilate lived.' ''Twas at the next town,' said he, 'at Vienne.' 'I am glad,' said I, rising briskly, and striding across the room- 'for so much the sooner shall I be at the Tomb of the two lovers.' Why I took long strides in uttering this, I will explain.

Tristram Shandy

Book 7 - Chapter 30

--Can you tell me, quoth _Phutatorius_, speaking to _Gastripheres_ who sat next to him----for one would not apply to a surgeon in so foolish an affair----can you tell me, _Gastripheres_, what is best to take out the fire? ----Ask _Eugenius_, said _Gastripheres_. ----That greatly depends, said _Eugenius_, pretending ignorance of the adventure, upon the nature of the part ----If it is a tender part, and a part which can conveniently be wrapt up ------It is both the one and the other, replied _Phutatorius_, laying his hand as he spoke, with an emphatical nod of his head, upon the part in question, and lifting up his right leg at the same time to ease and ventilate it. ------If that is the case, said _Eugenius_, I would advise you, _Phutatorius_, not to tamper with it by any means; but if you will send to the next printer, and trust your cure to such a simple thing as a soft sheet of paper just come off the press--you need do nothing more than twist it round. --The damp paper, quoth _Yorick_ (who sat next to his friend _Eugenius_) though I know it has a refreshing coolness in it--yet I presume is no more than the vehicle--and that the oil and lamp-black with which the paper is so strongly impregnated, does the business. --Right, said _Eugenius_, and is, of any outward application I would venture to recommend, the most anodyne and safe. Was it my case, said _Gastripheres_, as the main thing is the oil and lamp-black, I should spread them thick upon a rag, and clap it on directly. ------That would make a very devil of it, replied _Yorick_. ----And besides, added _Eugenius_, it would not answer the intention, which is the extreme neatness and elegance of the prescription, which the Faculty hold to be half in half; ----for consider, if the type is a very small one (which it should be) the sanative particles, which come into contact in this form, have the advantage of being spread so infinitely thin, and with such a mathematical equality (fresh paragraphs and large capitals excepted) as no art or management of the spatula can come up to. ------It falls out very luckily, replied _Phutatorius_, that the second edition of my treatise _de Concubinis retinendis_ is at this instant in the press. ------You may take any leaf of it, said _Eugenius_------no matter which. ----Provided, quoth _Yorick_, there is no bawdry in it.------ They are just now, replied _Phutatorius_, printing off the ninth chapter----which is the last chapter but one in the book. ----Pray what is the title of that chapter? said _Yorick_; making a respectful bow to _Phutatorius_ as he spoke. ------I think, answered _Phutatorius_, 'tis that _de re concubinari_. For Heaven's sake keep out of that chapter, quoth _Yorick_. ----By all means--added _Eugenius_.

'Can you tell me,' quoth Phutatorius, '-what is best to take out the heat?' 'That greatly depends,' said Eugenius, pretending ignorance of the adventure, 'upon the nature of the part. If it is a tender part, which can easily be wrapped up-' 'It is,' replied Phutatorius, lifting up his right leg to ventilate it. 'In that case,' said Eugenius, 'I would advise you not to tamper with it; but send to the printer, and trust your cure to a soft sheet of paper just come off the press - simply twist it round.' 'Although the damp paper has a refreshing coolness,' quoth Yorick, 'yet I presume it is the oil and lamp-black with which the paper is impregnated, which does the business.' 'Right,' said Eugenius, 'and it is a remedy both anodyne and safe.' 'As the main thing is the oil and lamp-black,' said Gastripheres, 'I should spread them thick upon a rag, and clap it on directly.' 'That would not answer,' said Eugenius, 'for the neatness and elegance of the prescription is what matters. For if the type is a very small one, the useful particles have the advantage of being spread so infinitely thin, and with such a mathematical equality (large capitals excepted) as no management of the spatula can come up to.' 'It is very lucky,' replied Phutatorius, 'that the second edition of my treatise is at this instant in the press.' 'You may use any page of it,' said Eugenius. 'Provided,' quoth Yorick, 'there is no bawdry in it.' 'They are just now printing the ninth chapter,' replied Phutatorius. 'Pray what is that chapter's title?' said Yorick, bowing respectfully. 'De re concubinaria - On the Matter of Concubines.' 'For Heaven's sake keep out of that chapter,' quoth Yorick.

Tristram Shandy

Book 4 - Chapter 28

With two strokes, the one at _Hippocrates_, the other at Lord _Verulam_, did my father achieve it. The stroke at the prince of physicians, with which he began, was no more than a short insult upon his sorrowful complaint of the _Ars longa_, --and _Vita brevis_. ----Life short, cried my father, --and the art of healing tedious! And who are we to thank for both the one and the other, but the ignorance of quacks themselves, --and the stage-loads of chymical nostrums, and peripatetic lumber, with which, in all ages, they have first flatter'd the world, and at last deceived it? ----O my lord _Verulam!_ cried my father, turning from _Hippocrates_, and making his second stroke at him, as the principal of nostrum-mongers, and the fittest to be made an example of to the rest, ----What shall I say to thee, my great lord _Verulam?_ What shall I say to thy internal spirit, --thy opium, --thy salt-petre, ----thy greasy unctions, --thy daily purges, --thy nightly clysters, and succedaneums? ----My father was never at a loss what to say to any man, upon any subject; and had the least occasion for the exordium of any man breathing: how he dealt with his lordship's opinion, ----you shall see; ----but when --I know not; ----we must first see what his lordship's opinion was.

With two strokes, the one at Hippocrates, the other at Lord Verulam, my father achieved it. The stroke at Hippocrates the physician, with which he began, was no more than a short insult upon his sorrowful complaint of Ars longa and Vita brevis. 'Life is short,' cried my father, 'and the art of healing tedious! And who are we to thank for both, but the ignorance of quacks themselves, and the coach-loads of chemical cure-alls, with which they have deceived the world? 'O my lord Verulam!' cried my father, turning from Hippocrates, and making his second stroke at the principal peddler of cure-alls. 'What shall I say to thee, my great lord Verulam? What shall I say to thy opium, thy salt-petre, thy greasy unctions, thy daily purges and nightly enemas, and bogus medicines?' My father was never at a loss what to say to any man, upon any subject; and had the least excuse for this beginning of any man breathing. How he dealt with lord Verulam's opinion, you shall see - but when, I know not - we must first see what his lordship's opinion was.

Tristram Shandy

Book 5 - Chapter 34

Any man, Madam, reasoning upwards, and observing the prodigious suffusion of blood in my father's countenance, --by means of which (as all the blood in his body seemed to rush into his face, as I told you) he must have reddened, pictorically and scientifically speaking, six whole tints and a half, if not a full octave above his natural colour: --any man, Madam, but my uncle _Toby_, who had observed this, together with the violent knitting of my father's brows, and the extravagant contortion of his body during the whole affair, --would have concluded my father in a rage; and taking that for granted, --had he been a lover of such kind of concord as arises from two such instruments being put in exact tune, --he would instantly have skrew'd up his, to the same pitch; --and then the devil and all had broke loose--the whole piece, Madam, must have been played off like the sixth of Avison Scarlatti--_con furia_, --like mad. --Grant me patience! ----What has _con furia_, ----_con strepito_, ----or any other hurly burly whatever to do with harmony? Any man, I say, Madam, but my uncle _Toby_, the benignity of whose heart interpreted every motion of the body in the kindest sense the motion would admit of, would have concluded my father angry, and blamed him too. My uncle _Toby_ blamed nothing but the taylor who cut the pocket-hole; ----so sitting still till my father had got his handkerchief out of it, and looking all the time up in his face with inexpressible good-will----my father, at length, went on as follows.

Any man, Madam, observing the rush of blood to my father's face, so that he reddened six whole tints and a half: - any man but my uncle Toby, who had observed this, together with the violent knitting of my father's brows, and the contortion of his body, would have concluded my father was in a rage; and he would then have screwed himself up to the same pitch; - and then the devil would have broke loose. Any man, I say, but my uncle Toby, whose benign heart interpreted every motion in the kindest sense possible, would have concluded my father was angry, and blamed him too. My uncle Toby blamed no one but the tailor who cut the pocket; so sitting still while my father got his handkerchief out, he looked at him with inexpressible good-will - until my father went on as follows.

Tristram Shandy

Book 3 - Chapter 5

Which shows, let your reverences and worships say what you will of it (for as for _thinking_----all who do think--think pretty much alike both upon it and other matters) ----Love is certainly, at least alphabetically speaking, one of the most A gitating B ewitching C onfounded D evilish affairs of life--the most E xtravagant F utilitous G alligaskinish H andy-dandyish I racundulous (there is no K to it) and L yrical of all human passions: at the same time, the most M isgiving N innyhammering O bstipating P ragmatical S tridulous R idiculous--though by the bye the R should have gone first --But in short 'tis of such a nature, as my father once told my uncle _Toby_ upon the close of a long dissertation upon the subject---- "You can scarce," said he, "combine two ideas together upon it, brother _Toby_, without an hypallage" ----What's that? cried my uncle _Toby_. The cart before the horse, replied my father---- ----And what is he to do there? cried my uncle _Toby_---- Nothing, quoth my father, but to get in----or let it alone. Now widow _Wadman_, as I told you before, would do neither the one or the other. She stood however ready harnessed and caparisoned at all points, to watch accidents.

Which shows, let your worships say what you will, Love is certainly, at least alphabetically speaking, one of the most A gitating B ewitching C onfounded D evilish affairs of life - the most E xtravagant F utilitous G alligaskinish H andy-dandyish I racundulous (there is no K to it) and L yrical of all human passions: at the same time, the most M isgiving N innyhammering O bstipating P ragmatical S tridulous R idiculous - though by the bye the R should have gone first - but in short 'tis of such a nature, as my father once told my uncle Toby upon the close of a long speech on the subject - 'You can scarce,' said he, 'combine two ideas together upon it, brother Toby, without an hypallage.' 'What's that?' cried my uncle Toby. 'The cart before the horse,' replied my father. 'And what is he to do there?' cried my uncle Toby. 'Nothing,' quoth my father, 'but to get in - or let it alone.' Now widow Wadman, as I told you before, would do neither the one or the other. She stood, however, ready harnessed at all points.

Tristram Shandy

Book 8 - Chapter 13

I wish my uncle _Toby_ had been a water-drinker; for then the thing had been accounted for, That the first moment Widow _Wadman_ saw him, she felt something stirring within her in his favour --Something! --something. --Something perhaps more than friendship--less than love--something--no matter what--no matter where --I would not give a single hair off my mule's tail, and be obliged to pluck it off myself (indeed the villain has not many to spare, and is not a little vicious into the bargain), to be let by your worships into the secret---- But the truth is, my uncle _Toby_ was not a water-drinker; he drank it neither pure nor mix'd, or any how, or any where, except fortuitously upon some advanced posts, where better liquor was not to be had----or during the time he was under cure; when the surgeon telling him it would extend the fibres, and bring them sooner into contact----my uncle _Toby_ drank it for quietness sake. Now as all the world knows, that no effect in nature can be produced without a cause, and as it is as well known, that my uncle _Toby_ was neither a weaver--a gardener, or a gladiator----unless as a captain, you will needs have him one--but then he was only a captain of foot--and besides, the whole is an equivocation ----There is nothing left for us to suppose, but that my uncle _Toby's_ leg----but that will avail us little in the present hypothesis, unless it had proceeded from some ailment _in the foot_--whereas his leg was not emaciated from any disorder in his foot--for my uncle _Toby's_ leg was not emaciated at all. It was a little stiff and awkward, from a total disuse of it, for the three years he lay confined at my father's house in town; but it was plump and muscular, and in all other respects as good and promising a leg as the other. I declare, I do not recollect any one opinion or passage of my life, where my understanding was more at a loss to make ends meet, and torture the chapter I had been writing, to the service of the chapter following it, than in the present case: one would think I took a pleasure in running into difficulties of this kind, merely to make fresh experiments of getting out of 'em ----Inconsiderate soul that thou art! What! are not the unavoidable distresses with which, as an author and a man, thou art hemm'd in on every side of thee----are they, _Tristram_, not sufficient, but thou must entangle thyself still more? Is it not enough that thou art in debt, and that thou hast ten cart-loads of thy fifth and sixth volumes[8.3] still--still unsold, and art almost at thy wit's ends, how to get them off thy hands? To this hour art thou not tormented with the vile asthma that thou gattest in skating against the wind in _Flanders?_ and is it but two months ago, that in a fit of laughter, on seeing a cardinal make water like a quirister (with both hands) thou brakest a vessel in thy lungs, whereby, in two hours, thou lost as many quarts of blood; and hadst thou lost as much more, did not the faculty tell thee------it would have amounted to a gallon?------ [Footnote 8.3: Alluding to the first edition.]

I wish my uncle Toby had been a water-drinker; for that would have accounted for Widow Wadman feeling something stirring within her in his favour, the first time she saw him. - Something! something. - Something perhaps more than friendship - less than love - something - no matter what - no matter where- But the truth is, my uncle Toby was not a water-drinker; he drank it neither pure nor mixed, except where better drink was not to be had - or while he was under cure. When the surgeon told him it would extend the fibres, and mend them sooner - my uncle Toby drank it for quietness sake. Now as no effect in nature can be produced without a cause, and as my uncle Toby was neither a weaver, a gardener, or a gladiator - unless by that you mean a captain of foot - we can only suppose that my uncle Toby's leg - but that will not aid us in this hypothesis, unless it proceeded from some ailment in the foot, which it did not - for my uncle Toby's leg was not emaciated at all. It was a little stiff and awkward, from total disuse for the three years he lay confined at my father's house; but it was plump and muscular, and in all other respects as good a leg as the other. I declare, I do not recollect any time of my life, where my understanding was more at a loss how to torture the chapter I had been writing, to the service of the chapter following it, than in this present case. One would think I enjoyed running into difficulties of this kind, merely to make fresh experiments in getting out of them. - Are the distresses of an author not sufficient, Tristram, but thou must entangle thyself still more? Is it not enough that thou art in debt, and that thou hast ten cart-loads of thy fifth and sixth volumes still unsold, and art almost at thy wit's ends, how to get them off thy hands? To this hour art thou not tormented with the vile asthma that thou got skating in Flanders? and is it but two months ago, that in a fit of laughter on seeing a cardinal make water like a chorister, with both hands, thou brakest a vessel in thy lungs, and lost two quarts of blood; which is full half a gallon?

Tristram Shandy

Book 8 - Chapter 6

My father's collection was not great, but to make amends, it was curious; and consequently he was some time in making it; he had the great good fortune however, to set off well, in getting _Bruscambille's_ prologue upon long noses, almost for nothing--for he gave no more for _Bruscambille_ than three half-crowns; owing indeed to the strong fancy which the stall-man saw my father had for the book the moment he laid his hands upon it. ----There are not three _Bruscambilles_ in _Christendom_--said the stall-man, except what are chain'd up in the libraries of the curious. My father flung down the money as quick as lightning----took _Bruscambille_ into his bosom----hied home from _Piccadilly_ to _Coleman_-street with it, as he would have hied home with a treasure, without taking his hand once off from _Bruscambille_ all the way. To those who do not yet know of which gender _Bruscambille_ is------inasmuch as a prologue upon long noses might easily be done by either------'twill be no objection against the simile--to say, That when my father got home, he solaced himself with _Bruscambille_ after the manner in which, 'tis ten to one, your worship solaced yourself with your first mistress------that is, from morning even unto night: which, by the bye, how delightful soever it may prove to the inamorato--is of little or no entertainment at all to by-standers. ----Take notice, I go no farther with the simile--my father's eye was greater than his appetite--his zeal greater than his knowledge--he cool'd--his affections became divided----he got hold of _Prignitz_--purchased _Scroderus_, _Andrea Parus_, _Bouchet's_ Evening Conferences, and above all, the great and learned _Hafen Slawkenbergius_; of which, as I shall have much to say by and by --I will say nothing now.

My father's collection on noses was not great, but it was curious; he had the good fortune, moreover, to start well, in getting Bruscambille's prologue upon long noses for only three half-crowns, owing to the stall-man seeing my father had a strong fancy for the book the moment he laid his hands upon it. 'There are not three Bruscambilles in Christendom,' said the stall-man, 'except those chained up in libraries.' My father flung down the money - took Bruscambille and hurried home from Piccadilly to Coleman-street with it, as if it were a treasure. Once home, he solaced himself with Bruscambille after the manner in which, 'tis ten to one, your worship solaced yourself with your first mistress - that is, from morning unto night. Take note, I go no farther with the simile. My father's eye was greater than his appetite - he cooled - his affections became divided - he purchased Prignitz, Scroderus, Paraeus, Bouchet's Evening Conferences, and above all, the great and learned Hafen Slawkenbergius; about which, as I shall have much to say by and by - I will say nothing now.

Tristram Shandy

Book 3 - Chapter 35

---- ----And a chapter it shall have, and a devil of a one too--so look to yourselves. 'Tis either _Plato_, or _Plutarch_, or _Seneca_, or _Xenophon_, or _Epictetus_, or _Theophrastus_, or _Lucian_--or some one perhaps of later date--either _Cardan_, or _Budus_, or _Petrarch_, or _Stella_--or possibly it may be some divine or father of the church, St. _Austin_, or St. _Cyprian_, or _Barnard_, who affirms that it is an irresistible and natural passion to weep for the loss of our friends or children--and _Seneca_ (I'm positive) tells us somewhere, that such griefs evacuate themselves best by that particular channel --And accordingly we find, that _David_ wept for his son _Absalom_--_Adrian_ for his _Antinous_--_Niobe_ for her children, and that _Apollodorus_ and _Crito_ both shed tears for _Socrates_ before his death. My father managed his affliction otherwise; and indeed differently from most men either ancient or modern; for he neither wept it away, as the _Hebrews_ and the _Romans_--or slept it off, as the _Laplanders_--or hanged it, as the _English_, or drowned it, as the _Germans_--nor did he curse it, or damn it, or excommunicate it, or rhyme it, or lillabullero it.---- ----He got rid of it, however. Will your worships give me leave to squeeze in a story between these two pages? When _Tully_ was bereft of his dear daughter _Tullia_, at first he laid it to his heart, --he listened to the voice of nature, and modulated his own unto it. --O my _Tullia!_ my daughter! my child! --still, still, still, --'twas O my _Tullia!_--my _Tullia!_ Methinks I see my _Tullia_, I hear my _Tullia_, I talk with my _Tullia_. --But as soon as he began to look into the stores of philosophy, and consider how many excellent things might be said upon the occasion--nobody upon earth can conceive, says the great orator, how happy, how joyful it made me. My father was as proud of his eloquence as MARCUS TULLIUS CICERO could be for his life, and, for aught I am convinced of to the contrary at present, with as much reason: it was indeed his strength--and his weakness too. ----His strength--for he was by nature eloquent; and his weakness--for he was hourly a dupe to it; and, provided an occasion in life would but permit him to shew his talents, or say either a wise thing, a witty, or a shrewd one--(bating the case of a systematic misfortune)--he had all he wanted. --A blessing which tied up my father's tongue, and a misfortune which let it loose with a good grace, were pretty equal: sometimes, indeed, the misfortune was the better of the two; for instance, where the pleasure of the harangue was as _ten_, and the pain of the misfortune but as _five_--my father gained half in half, and consequently was as well again off, as if it had never befallen him. This clue will unravel what otherwise would seem very inconsistent in my father's domestic character; and it is this, that, in the provocations arising from the neglects and blunders of servants, or other mishaps unavoidable in a family, his anger or rather the duration of it, eternally ran counter to all conjecture. My father had a favourite little mare, which he had consigned over to a most beautiful Arabian horse, in order to have a pad out of her for his own riding: he was sanguine in all his projects; so talked about his pad every day with as absolute a security, as if it had been reared, broke, --and bridled and saddled at his door ready for mounting. By some neglect or other in _Obadiah_, it so fell out, that my father's expectations were answered with nothing better than a mule, and as ugly a beast of the kind as ever was produced. My mother and my uncle _Toby_ expected my father would be the death of _Obadiah_--and that there never would be an end of the disaster. ----See here! you rascal, cried my father, pointing to the mule, what you have done! ----It was not me, said _Obadiah_. ----How do I know that? replied my father. Triumph swam in my father's eyes, at the repartee--the _Attic_ salt brought water into them--and so _Obadiah_ heard no more about it. Now let us go back to my brother's death. Philosophy has a fine saying for everything. --For _Death_ it has an entire set; the misery was, they all at once rushed into my father's head, that 'twas difficult to string them together, so as to make anything of a consistent show out of them. --He took them as they came. "'Tis an inevitable chance--the first statute in _Magna Charta_--it is an everlasting act of parliament, my dear brother, ----_All must die._ "If my son could not have died, it had been matter of wonder, --not that he is dead. "Monarchs and princes dance in the same ring with us. "--_To die_, is the great debt and tribute due unto nature: tombs and monuments, which should perpetuate our memories, pay it themselves; and the proudest pyramid of them all, which wealth and science have erected, has lost its apex, and stands obtruncated in the traveller's horizon." (My father found he got great ease, and went on)-- "Kingdoms and provinces, and towns and cities, have they not their periods? and when those principles and powers, which at first cemented and put them together, have performed their several evolutions, they fall back." --Brother _Shandy_, said my uncle _Toby_, laying down his pipe at the word _evolutions_ --Revolutions, I meant, quoth my father, --by heaven! I meant revolutions, brother _Toby_--evolutions is nonsense. ----'Tis not nonsense, --said my uncle _Toby_. ----But is it not nonsense to break the thread of such a discourse upon such an occasion? cried my father--do not--dear _Toby_, continued he, taking him by the hand, do not--do not, I beseech thee, interrupt me at this crisis. ----My uncle _Toby_ put his pipe into his mouth. "Where is _Troy_ and _Mycen_, and _Thebes_ and _Delos_, and _Persepolis_ and _Agrigentum?_" --continued my father, taking up his book of post-cards, which he had laid down. --"What is become, brother _Toby_, of _Nineveh_ and _Babylon_, of _Cizicum_ and _Mitylen?_ The fairest towns that ever the sun rose upon, are now no more; the names only are left, and those (for many of them are wrong spelt) are falling themselves by piece-meals to decay, and in length of time will be forgotten, and involved with everything in a perpetual night: the world itself, brother _Toby_, must--must come to an end. "Returning out of _Asia_, when I sailed from _gina_ towards _Megara_," (_when can this have been? thought my uncle Toby_) "I began to view the country round about. _gina_ was behind me, _Megara_ was before, _Pyrus_ on the right hand, _Corinth_ on the left. --What flourishing towns now prostrate upon the earth! Alas! alas! said I to myself, that man should disturb his soul for the loss of a child, when so much as this lies awfully buried in his presence ----Remember, said I to myself again--remember thou art a man."-- Now my uncle _Toby_ knew not that this last paragraph was an extract of _Servius Sulpicius's_ consolatory letter to _Tully_. --He had as little skill, honest man, in the fragments, as he had in the whole pieces of antiquity. --And as my father, whilst he was concerned in the _Turkey_ trade, had been three or four different times in the _Levant_, in one of which he had staid a whole year and an half at _Zant_, my uncle _Toby_ naturally concluded, that, in some one of these periods, he had taken a trip across the _Archipelago_ into _Asia_; and that all this sailing affair with _gina_ behind, and _Megara_ before, and _Pyrus_ on the right hand, &c., &c., was nothing more than the true course of my father's voyage and reflections. --'Twas certainly in his _manner_, and many an undertaking critic would have built two stories higher upon worse foundations. --And pray, brother, quoth my uncle _Toby_, laying the end of his pipe upon my father's hand in a kindly way of interruption--but waiting till he finished the account--what year of our Lord was this? --'Twas no year of our Lord, replied my father. --That's impossible, cried my uncle _Toby_. --Simpleton! said my father, --'twas forty years before Christ was born. My uncle _Toby_ had but two things for it; either to suppose his brother to be the wandering _Jew_, or that his misfortunes had disordered his brain. --"May the Lord God of heaven and earth protect him and restore him," said my uncle _Toby_, praying silently for my father, and with tears in his eyes. --My father placed the tears to a proper account, and went on with his harangue with great spirit. "There is not such great odds, brother _Toby_, betwixt good and evil, as the world imagines"----(this way of setting off, by the bye, was not likely to cure my uncle _Toby's_ suspicions.)---- "Labour, sorrow, grief, sickness, want, and woe, are the sauces of life." --Much good may it do them--said my uncle _Toby_ to himself.------ "My son is dead! --so much the better; --'tis a shame in such a tempest to have but one anchor." "But he is gone for ever from us! --be it so. He is got from under the hands of his barber before he was bald--he is but risen from a feast before he was surfeited--from a banquet before he had got drunken." "The _Thracians_ wept when a child was born"--(and we were very near it, quoth my uncle _Toby_)-- "and feasted and made merry when a man went out of the world; and with reason. ----Death opens the gate of fame, and shuts the gate of envy after it, --it unlooses the chain of the captive, and puts the bondsman's task into another man's hands." "Shew me the man, who knows what life is, who dreads it, and I'll shew thee a prisoner who dreads his liberty." Is it not better, my dear brother _Toby_, (for mark--our appetites are but diseases)--is it not better not to hunger at all, than to eat? --not to thirst, than to take physic to cure it? Is it not better to be freed from cares and agues, from love and melancholy, and the other hot and cold fits of life, than, like a galled traveller, who comes weary to his inn, to be bound to begin his journey afresh? There is no terrour, brother _Toby_, in its looks, but what it borrows from groans and convulsions--and the blowing of noses and the wiping away of tears with the bottoms of curtains, in a dying man's room. --Strip it of these, what is it? --'Tis better in battle than in bed, said my uncle _Toby_. --Take away its herses, its mutes, and its mourning, --its plumes, scutcheons, and other mechanic aids --What is it? ----_Better in battle!_ continued my father, smiling, for he had absolutely forgot my brother _Bobby_--'tis terrible no way--for consider, brother _Toby_, --when we _are_--death is _not_; --and when death _is_--we are _not_. My uncle _Toby_ laid down his pipe to consider the proposition; my father's eloquence was too rapid to stay for any man--away it went, --and hurried my uncle _Toby's_ ideas along with it.---- For this reason, continued my father, 'tis worthy to recollect how little alteration, in great men, the approaches of death have made. --_Vespasian_ died in a jest upon his close-stool--_Galba_ with a sentence--_Septimus Severus_ in a dispatch--_Tiberius_ in dissimulation, and _Csar Augustus_ in a compliment. --I hope 'twas a sincere one--quoth my uncle _Toby_. --'Twas to his wife, --said my father.

And a chapter it shall have, and a devil of a one too - so look out. 'Tis either Plato, or Plutarch, or Seneca, or Xenophon - or perhaps Cardan or Petrarch or Stella - or possibly it may be some church father, St. Austin or St. Cyprian, who affirms that it is an irresistible and natural passion to weep for the loss of our friends or children. And so we find that David wept for his son Absalom, Adrian for his Antinous, Niobe for her children, and Apollodorus shed tears for Socrates. My father managed his affliction differently from most men; for he neither wept it away, or slept it off, as the Laplanders do, or hanged it, like the English; nor did he curse it, or damn it, or rhyme it, or lillabullero it. He got rid of it, however. Will your worships allow me to squeeze in a story? When Tully was bereft of his dear daughter Tullia, at first he took it to heart, grieving, 'O my Tullia! my child! Methinks I see her, I hear her, I talk with my Tullia.' But when he began to look into the stores of philosophy, and realise how many excellent things might be said upon the occasion - 'nobody can conceive,' says the great orator, 'how happy and joyful it made me.' My father was proud of his eloquence, and with reason: it was indeed his strength - and his weakness too, for if an occasion would permit him to say either a wise thing, a witty, or a shrewd one - he had all he wanted. A blessing which tied up my father's tongue, and a misfortune which let it loose, were pretty equal: sometimes, indeed, the misfortune was the better. For instance, if the pleasure of the harangue was 10 and the pain of the misfortune only 5, my father gained from it. This clue will unravel what otherwise would seem very inconsistent in my father's character; that when provoked by the blunders of servants and other family mishaps, his anger, or rather the duration of it, ran contrary to all conjecture. My father had a favourite little mare, which he had bred with a most beautiful Arabian horse, in order to have a foal out of her for his own riding: he talked about this foal every day as if it had already been reared, broke, and saddled. By some neglect or other in Obadiah, it so fell out that my father's expectations were answered with nothing better than a mule, and as ugly a beast as ever was produced. My mother and my uncle Toby expected my father would be the death of Obadiah - and that there would never be an end of it. 'See here! you rascal,' cried my father, pointing to the mule, 'what you have done!' 'It was not me,' said Obadiah. 'How do I know that?' replied my father. Triumph swam in my father's eyes at this repartee - and so Obadiah heard no more about it. Now let us go back to my brother's death. Philosophy has a fine saying for everything. - For Death it has an entire set; the trouble was, they all rushed at once into my father's head, so that 'twas difficult to set them in order. - He took them as they came. ''Tis inevitable - the first statute in Magna Carta - it is an everlasting act of parliament, my dear brother. All must die. 'If my son could not have died, that would have been a matter of wonder. 'Monarchs and princes dance in the same ring with us. 'To die is the great debt and tribute due unto nature: tombs and monuments pay it; the proudest pyramid of all has lost its apex, and stands obtruncated in the traveller's horizon.' (My father found he got great ease, and went on.) 'Kingdoms, towns and cities, have they not their ends? and when those powers, which at first cemented them together, have performed their evolutions, they fall back.' 'Brother Shandy,' said my uncle Toby, laying down his pipe. 'Revolutions, I meant,' quoth my father, 'evolutions is nonsense.' ''Tis not nonsense,' said my uncle Toby. 'But is it not nonsense to break the thread of such a discourse upon such an occasion?' cried my father. '-Do not, dear Toby, I beseech thee, interrupt me at this crisis.' My uncle put his pipe into his mouth. 'Where is Troy and Mycenae, and Thebes and Delos?' continued my father. 'What is become of Nineveh and Babylon? The fairest towns that ever the sun rose upon, are now no more; the names only are left, and those in time will be forgotten, and lost in a perpetual night: the world itself, brother Toby, must come to an end. 'Returning out of Asia, when I sailed from Aegina towards Megara,' ('when can this have been?' thought my uncle Toby) 'I began to view the country round about. Aegina was behind me, Megara was before, Piraeus on the right hand, Corinth on the left. What flourishing towns, now prostrate upon the earth! Alas! said I to myself, that man should disturb his soul for the loss of a child, when all this lies buried - remember, said I - remember thou art a man.' Now my uncle Toby did not know that this last paragraph was an extract of Sulpicius's letter to Tully. And as my father, when he did business in the Turkey trade, had been three or four times in the Levant, and had once stayed a whole year and an half, my uncle Toby naturally concluded that, in one of these visits, he had taken a trip into Asia; and that all this sailing affair with Aegina behind, and Megara before, &c., &c., was nothing more than the course of my father's voyage. 'Pray, brother,' quoth my uncle in a kindly way, 'what year of our Lord was this?' ''Twas no year of our Lord,' replied my father. 'That's impossible,' cried my uncle Toby. 'Simpleton!' said my father, ''twas forty years before Christ was born.' My uncle Toby had only two things for it; either to suppose his brother to be the wandering Jew, or that his misfortunes had disordered his brain. 'May the Lord God protect and restore him,' said he silently, with tears in his eyes. My father placed the tears to a proper account, and went on with spirit. 'There is not such great odds, brother Toby, betwixt good and evil, as the world imagines.' (This, by the bye, was not likely to cure my uncle Toby's suspicions.) 'Labour, sorrow, grief, sickness and woe, are the sauces of life. 'My son is dead! - so much the better; 'tis a shame in such a tempest to have but one anchor. 'But he is gone for ever from us! - be it so. He is got from under the hands of his barber before he was bald - he is but risen from a feast before he was surfeited. The Thracians wept when a child was born' ('and we were very near it,' quoth my uncle Toby) '-and feasted and made merry when a man died. For death opens the gate of fame, and shuts the gate of envy; it unlooses the captive's chain. 'Show me the man who dreads death, and I'll show thee a prisoner who dreads liberty. 'Is it not better, my dear brother Toby, not to hunger at all, than to eat? 'Is it not better to be freed from cares and melancholy, than be like a traveller, who comes weary to his inn, only to have to start his journey afresh? 'There is no terror, brother Toby, in death's looks, except what it borrows from groans and convulsions, and the wiping away of tears with the bottoms of curtains, in a dying man's room. Strip it of these, and what is it?' ''Tis better in battle than in bed,' said my uncle Toby. 'Better in battle!' continued my father, smiling, for he had absolutely forgot my brother Bobby. ''Tis not terrible - for when we are, death is not; and when death is, we are not.' My uncle Toby laid down his pipe to consider this. 'For this reason,' continued my father, ''tis worthy to recollect how little change, in great men, the approaches of death have made. Vespasian died in a jest; Galba with a sentence - Tiberius in concealment, and Augustus in a compliment.' 'I hope 'twas a sincere one,' quoth my uncle Toby. ''Twas to his wife,' said my father.

Tristram Shandy

Book 5 - Chapter 3

----I'll put him, however, into breeches, said my father, --let the world say what it will.

'I'll put him, however, into breeches,' said my father, 'let the world say what it will.'

Tristram Shandy

Book 6 - Chapter 15

----And the story too--if you please: for though I have all along been hastening towards this part of it, with so much earnest desire, as well knowing it to be the choicest morsel of what I had to offer to the world, yet now that I am got to it, any one is welcome to take my pen, and go on with the story for me that will --I see the difficulties of the descriptions I'm going to give--and feel my want of powers. It is one comfort at least to me, that I lost some fourscore ounces of blood this week in a most uncritical fever which attacked me at the beginning of this chapter; so that I have still some hopes remaining, it may be more in the serous or globular parts of the blood, than in the subtile _aura_ of the brain----be it which it will--an Invocation can do no hurt----and I leave the affair entirely to the _invoked_, to inspire or to inject me according as he sees good. THE INVOCATION Gentle Spirit of sweetest humour, who erst did sit upon the easy pen of my beloved CERVANTES; Thou who glided'st daily through his lattice, and turned'st the twilight of his prison into noonday brightness by thy presence----tinged'st his little urn of water with heaven-sent nectar, and all the time he wrote of _Sancho_ and his master, didst cast thy mystic mantle o'er his wither'd stump,[9.1] and wide extended it to all the evils of his life------ ----Turn in hither, I beseech thee! ----behold these breeches! ----they are all I have in the world----that piteous rent was given them at _Lyons_------ My shirts! see what a deadly schism has happen'd amongst 'em--for the laps are in _Lombardy_, and the rest of 'em here --I never had but six, and a cunning gypsey of a laundress at _Milan_ cut me off the _fore_-laps of five --To do her justice, she did it with some consideration--for I was returning out of _Italy_. And yet, notwithstanding all this, and a pistol tinderbox which was moreover filch'd from me at _Sienna_, and twice that I pay'd five Pauls for two hard eggs, once at _Raddicoffini_, and a second time at _Capua_ --I do not think a journey through _France_ and _Italy_, provided a man keeps his temper all the way, so bad a thing as some people would make you believe: there must be _ups_ and _downs_, or how the duce should we get into vallies where Nature spreads so many tables of entertainment. --'Tis nonsense to imagine they will lend you their voitures to be shaken to pieces for nothing; and unless you pay twelve sous for greasing your wheels, how should the poor peasant get butter to his bread? --We really expect too much--and for the livre or two above par for your suppers and bed--at the most they are but one shilling and ninepence halfpenny----who would embroil their philosophy for it? for heaven's and for your own sake, pay it----pay it with both hands open, rather than leave _Disappointment_ sitting drooping upon the eye of your fair Hostess and her Damsels in the gateway, at your departure----and besides, my dear Sir, you get a sisterly kiss of each of 'em worth a pound----at least I did---- ----For my uncle _Toby's_ amours running all the way in my head, they had the same effect upon me as if they had been my own ----I was in the most perfect state of bounty and good-will; and felt the kindliest harmony vibrating within me, with every oscillation of the chaise alike; so that whether the roads were rough or smooth, it made no difference; everything I saw or had to do with, touch'd upon some secret spring either of sentiment or rapture. ----They were the sweetest notes I ever heard; and I instantly let down the fore-glass to hear them more distinctly----'Tis _Maria_; said the postillion, observing I was listening ----Poor _Maria_, continued he (leaning his body on one side to let me see her, for he was in a line betwixt us), is sitting upon a bank playing her vespers upon her pipe, with her little goat beside her. The young fellow utter'd this with an accent and a look so perfectly in tune to a feeling heart, that I instantly made a vow, I would give him a four-and-twenty sous piece, when I got to _Moulins_---- ------And who is _poor Maria?_ said I. The love and piety of all the villages around us; said the postillion----it is but three years ago, that the sun did not shine upon so fair, so quick-witted and amiable a maid; and better fate did _Maria_ deserve, than to have her Banns forbid, by the intrigues of the curate of the parish who published them---- He was going on, when _Maria_, who had made a short pause, put the pipe to her mouth, and began the air again----they were the same notes; ----yet were ten times sweeter: It is the evening service to the Virgin, said the young man----but who has taught her to play it--or how she came by her pipe, no one knows; we think that heaven has assisted her in both; for ever since she has been unsettled in her mind, it seems her only consolation----she has never once had the pipe out of her hand, but plays that _service_ upon it almost night and day. The postillion delivered this with so much discretion and natural eloquence, that I could not help decyphering something in his face above his condition, and should have sifted out his history, had not poor _Maria_ taken such full possession of me. We had got up by this time almost to the bank where _Maria_ was sitting: she was in a thin white jacket, with her hair, all but two tresses, drawn up into a silk-net, with a few olive leaves twisted a little fantastically on one side----she was beautiful; and if ever I felt the full force of an honest heart-ache, it was the moment I saw her---- ----God help her! poor damsel! above a hundred masses, said the postillion, have been said in the several parish churches and convents around, for her, ----but without effect; we have still hopes, as she is sensible for short intervals, that the Virgin at last will restore her to herself; but her parents, who know her best, are hopeless upon that score, and think her senses are lost for ever. As the postillion spoke this, MARIA made a cadence so melancholy, so tender and querulous, that I sprung out of the chaise to help her, and found myself sitting betwixt her and her goat before I relapsed from my enthusiasm. MARIA look'd wistfully for some time at me, and then at her goat----and then at me----and then at her goat again, and so on, alternately---- ----Well, _Maria_, said I softly ----What resemblance do you find? I do entreat the candid reader to believe me, that it was from the humblest conviction of what a _Beast_ man is, ----that I asked the question; and that I would not have let fallen an unseasonable pleasantry in the venerable presence of Misery, to be entitled to all the wit that ever _Rabelais_ scatter'd----and yet I own my heart smote me, and that I so smarted at the very idea of it, that I swore I would set up for Wisdom, and utter grave sentences the rest of my days----and never----never attempt again to commit mirth with man, woman, or child, the longest day I had to live. As for writing nonsense to them ----I believe, there was a reserve--but that I leave to the world. Adieu, _Maria!_--adieu, poor hapless damsel! ----some time, but not _now_, I may hear thy sorrows from thy own lips----but I was deceived; for that moment she took her pipe and told me such a tale of woe with it, that I rose up, and with broken and irregular steps walk'd softly to my chaise. ------What an excellent inn at _Moulins!_ [Footnote 9.1: He lost his hand at the battle of _Lepanto_.]

- And the story too if you please: for though I have all along been hastening earnestly towards this part of it, knowing it to be the choicest morsel I had to offer to the world, yet now that I am got to it, anyone who wishes is welcome to take my pen, and go on with the story. I foresee the difficulties of description - and feel my want of powers. It is one comfort at least to me, that I lost some fourscore ounces of blood this week in a fever which attacked me at the beginning of this chapter; so that I hope it may be more in the globular parts of the blood, rather than in the subtle aura of the brain - whichever it is, an Invocation can do no hurt. THE INVOCATION Gentle Spirit of sweetest humour, who formerly did sit upon the easy pen of my beloved Cervantes; thou who glided'st daily through his window, and turned the twilight of his prison into noonday brightness by thy presence - tinged his little urn of water with heaven-sent nectar, and all the time he wrote of Sancho and his master, didst cast thy mystic mantle o'er the evils of his life- - Turn hither, I beseech thee! behold these breeches! - they are all I have in the world - that piteous rent was given them at Lyons- My shirts! see what a deadly schism has happened amongst 'em - for the tails are in Lombardy, and the rest of 'em here - I only had six, and a cunning gypsy of a laundress at Milan cut off the tails of five. And yet, despite all this, and a pistol tinderbox which was filched from me at Sienna, and twice that I paid five Pauls for two hard eggs, once at Raddicoffini, and a second time at Capua - I do not think a journey through France and Italy, provided a man keeps his temper all the way, is so bad a thing as some people would make you believe. - 'Tis nonsense to imagine they will lend you their carriages to be shaken to pieces for nothing; and unless you pay twelve sous for greasing your wheels, how should the poor peasant get butter for his bread? - We really expect too much - and as for the livre or two above par for your suppers and bed - at the most they are but one shilling and ninepence halfpenny - why quibble? for heaven's sake, pay it, rather than disappoint your fair Hostess and her Damsels - and besides, my dear Sir, on your departure you get a sisterly kiss of each of 'em worth a pound - at least I did. - For my uncle Toby's amours running in my head had the same effect upon me as if they had been my own. - I was in the most perfect state of good-will; and felt the kindliest harmony vibrating within me with every oscillation of the chaise; so that whether the roads were rough or smooth, everything I saw touched upon some secret spring of sentiment or rapture. - They were the sweetest notes I ever heard; and I instantly let down the window to hear them more distinctly. ''Tis Maria,' said the postillion; 'Poor Maria is sitting upon a bank playing her vespers upon her pipe, with her little goat beside her.' The young fellow uttered this so feelingly that I instantly made a vow to give him a four-and-twenty sous piece, when I got to Moulins. 'And who is poor Maria?' said I. 'The love and piety of all the villages around us;' said the postilion. - 'Just three years ago, the sun did not shine upon so fair, so quick-witted and amiable a maid; and Maria deserved a better fate than to have her marriage banns forbid, by the intrigues of the curate who published them.' Here Maria, who had made a short pause, put the pipe to her mouth, and began the tune again - they were the same notes, yet ten times sweeter. 'It is the evening service to the Virgin,' said the young man, 'but who has taught her to play it, no one knows; we think that heaven has assisted her; for ever since she has been unsettled in her mind, it seems her only consolation. She has never once had the pipe out of her hand, but plays that service night and day.' The postillion delivered this with so much eloquence, that I could not help seeing something in his face above his position, and should have sifted out his history, had not poor Maria taken such full possession of me. We had by this time almost reached the bank where Maria was sitting: she wore her hair drawn up into a silk-net, with a few olive leaves twisted a little fantastically on one side. - She was beautiful; and if ever I felt the full force of an honest heart-ache, it was the moment I saw her- 'God help her! poor damsel!' said the postilion. 'A hundred masses have been said in the churches and convents for her - but without effect; we have still hopes, as she is sensible for short intervals, that the Virgin will restore her to herself. But her parents, who know her best, have no hope, and think her senses are lost for ever.' As the postillion spoke this, Maria made a cadence so melancholy, so tender, that I sprung out of the chaise to help her, and found myself sitting betwixt her and her goat. Maria looked wistfully for some time at me, and then at her goat - and then at me - and then at her goat again. 'Well, Maria,' said I softly, 'what resemblance do you find?' I do entreat the reader to believe that it was from the humblest conviction of what a Beast man is, that I asked the question. I would never have made a witticism in the presence of Misery - and I so smarted at the very idea of it, that I swore I would utter grave sentences the rest of my days - and never attempt again to commit mirth with man, woman, or child, in my life. As for writing nonsense - that I leave to the world. Adieu, Maria, poor hapless damsel! - some time, I thought, I may hear thy sorrows from thy own lips - but I was deceived; for she took her pipe and played such a tale of woe with it, that I rose up, and with broken steps walked softly to my chaise. - What an excellent inn at Moulins!

Tristram Shandy

Book 9 - Chapter 24

I told the Christian reader ----I say _Christian_----hoping he is one----and if he is not, I am sorry for it----and only beg he will consider the matter with himself, and not lay the blame entirely upon this book---- I told him, Sir----for in good truth, when a man is telling a story in the strange way I do mine, he is obliged continually to be going backwards and forwards to keep all tight together in the reader's fancy----which, for my own part, if I did not take heed to do more than at first, there is so much unfixed and equivocal matter starting up, with so many breaks and gaps in it, --and so little service do the stars afford, which, nevertheless, I hang up in some of the darkest passages, knowing that the world is apt to lose its way, with all the lights the sun itself at noon-day can give it----and now you see, I am lost myself!------ ----But 'tis my father's fault; and whenever my brains come to be dissected, you will perceive, without spectacles, that he has left a large uneven thread, as you sometimes see in an unsaleable piece of cambrick, running along the whole length of the web, and so untowardly, you cannot so much as cut out a * *, (here I hang up a couple of lights again)----or a fillet, or a thumb-stall, but it is seen or felt.------ _Quanto id diligentius in liberis procreandis cavendum_, sayeth _Cardan_. All which being considered, and that you see 'tis morally impracticable for me to wind this round to where I set out------ I begin the chapter over again.

I told the Christian reader - hoping he is Christian; - if he is not, I am sorry for it, and beg he will consider the matter, and not lay the blame entirely upon this book- I told him, Sir - for in truth, when a man is telling a story in the strange way I do mine, he is obliged continually to be going backwards and forwards to keep all tight together in the reader's fancy - which if I did not take heed to do more than at first, there is so much unfixed and equivocal matter starting up, with so many breaks and gaps, and so little service do the stars afford, which, nevertheless, I hang up in some of the darkest passages, knowing that the world is apt to lose its way, with all the light the noon-day sun can give it - and now you see, I am lost myself! But 'tis my father's fault; and whenever my brains come to be dissected, you will perceive that he has left a large uneven thread running along the whole length of the web, so that you cannot cut out a * * (there I hang up a couple of lights again) without it being seen or felt. You see 'tis morally impracticable for me to wind this round to where I set out- I begin the chapter over again.

Tristram Shandy

Book 6 - Chapter 33

----And here is the _Maes_--and this is the _Sambre_; said the corporal, pointing with his right hand extended a little towards the map and his left upon Mrs. _Bridget's_ shoulder----but not the shoulder next him--and this, said he, is the town of _Namur_--and this the citadel--and there lay the _French_--and here lay his honour and myself----and in this cursed trench, Mrs. _Bridget_, quoth the corporal, taking her by the hand, did he receive the wound which crush'd him so miserably _here_. ----In pronouncing which, he slightly press'd the back of her hand towards the part he felt for----and let it fall. We thought, Mr. _Trim_, it had been more in the middle, ----said Mrs. _Bridget_---- That would have undone us for ever--said the corporal. ----And left my poor mistress undone too, said _Bridget_. The corporal made no reply to the repartee, but by giving Mrs. _Bridget_ a kiss. Come--come--said _Bridget_--holding the palm of her left hand parallel to the plane of the horizon, and sliding the fingers of the other over it, in a way which could not have been done, had there been the least wart or protuberance----'Tis every syllable of it false, cried the corporal, before she had half finished the sentence---- --I know it to be fact, said _Bridget_, from credible witnesses. ------Upon my honour, said the corporal, laying his hand upon his heart and blushing, as he spoke, with honest resentment--'tis a story, Mrs. _Bridget_, as false as hell ----Not, said _Bridget_, interrupting him, that either I or my mistress care a halfpenny about it, whether 'tis so or no------only that when one is married, one would chuse to have such a thing by one at least---- It was somewhat unfortunate for Mrs. _Bridget_, that she had begun the attack with her manual exercise; for the corporal instantly * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *.

'And here is the Maes - and this is the Sambre;' said the corporal, pointing with his right hand extended towards the map and his left round Mrs. Bridget's shoulder. 'And this,' said he, 'is the town of Namur - and here lay his honour and myself - and in this cursed trench, Mrs. Bridget,' quoth the corporal, taking her by the hand, 'did he receive the wound which crushed him so miserably here.' - In pronouncing which, he slightly pressed the back of her hand towards the part - and let it fall. 'We thought, Mr. Trim, it had been more in the middle,' said Mrs. Bridget. 'That would have undone us for ever,' said the corporal. 'And my poor mistress too,' said Bridget. The corporal made no reply, but by giving Bridget a kiss. 'Come - come,' said Bridget, sliding one hand over the other, in a way that could not be done were there the slightest wart or protuberance. ''Tis every syllable of it false,' cried the corporal, before she had half finished. 'I know it to be fact,' said Bridget, 'from witnesses.' 'Upon my honour,' said the corporal, blushing with honest resentment, ''tis a story, Mrs. Bridget, as false as hell-' 'Not,' said Bridget, interrupting him, 'that either I or my mistress care a halfpenny about it - only that when one is married, one would choose to have such a thing by one at least-' It was somewhat unfortunate for Mrs. Bridget, that she had begun the attack with her manual exercise; for the corporal instantly * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *.

Tristram Shandy

Book 9 - Chapter 28

----Bonjour! ----good morrow! ----so you have got your cloak on betimes! ----but 'tis a cold morning, and you judge the matter rightly----'tis better to be well mounted, than go o' foot----and obstructions in the glands are dangerous ----And how goes it with thy concubine--thy wife, --and thy little ones o' both sides? and when did you hear from the old gentleman and lady--your sister, aunt, uncle, and cousins ----I hope they have got better of their colds, coughs, claps, toothaches, fevers, stranguries, sciaticas, swellings, and sore eyes. ----What a devil of an apothecary! to take so much blood--give such a vile purge--puke--poultice--plaister--night-draught--clyster--blister? ----And why so many grains of calomel? santa Maria! and such a dose of opium! periclitating, pardi! the whole family of ye, from head to tail ----By my great-aunt _Dinah's_ old black velvet mask! I think there was no occasion for it. Now this being a little bald about the chin, by frequently putting off and on, _before_ she was got with child by the coachman--not one of our family would wear it after. To cover the MASK afresh, was more than the mask was worth----and to wear a mask which was bald, or which could be half seen through, was as bad as having no mask at all---- This is the reason, may it please your reverences, that in all our numerous family, for these four generations, we count no more than one archbishop, a _Welch_ judge, some three or four aldermen, and a single mountebank---- In the sixteenth century, we boast of no less than a dozen alchymists.

- Bonjour! - good morrow! so you have got your cloak on! but 'tis a cold morning - and how goes it with thy concubine, thy wife, and thy little ones o' both sides? and when did you hear from your sister, aunt, uncle, and cousins? - I hope they have got better of their colds, coughs, claps, toothaches, fevers, sciaticas, swellings, and sore eyes. - What a devil of an apothecary! to take so much blood - give such a vile purge - poultice - plaster - clyster - blister! And why so much calomel? and such a dose of opium! - By my great-aunt Dinah's old black velvet mask! I think there was no need for it. Now this Mask being a little bald about the chin, by frequent putting off and on, before she was got with child by the coachman - not one of our family would wear it after. To mend the Mask, was more than the mask was worth - and to wear a bald mask was as bad as having no mask at all. This is the reason, may it please your reverences, that in all our numerous family, for four generations, we count no more than one archbishop, a Welsh judge, three or four aldermen, and a single mountebank- In the sixteenth century, we boast of no less than a dozen alchemists.

Tristram Shandy

Book 8 - Chapter 3

------My young master in _London_ is dead! said _Obadiah_.-- ------A green sattin night-gown of my mother's which had been twice scoured, was the first idea which _Obadiah's_ exclamation brought into _Susannah's_ head. --Well might _Locke_ write a chapter upon the imperfection of words. --Then, quoth _Susannah_, we must all go into mourning. --But note a second time: the word _mourning_, notwithstanding _Susannah_ made use of it herself--failed also of doing its office; it excited not one single idea, tinged either with grey or black, --all was green. ----The green sattin night-gown hung there still. --O! 'twill be the death of my poor mistress, cried _Susannah_. --My mother's whole wardrobe followed. --What a procession! her red damask, --her orange tawney, --her white and yellow lutestrings, --her brown taffata, --her bone-laced caps, her bed-gowns, and comfortable under-petticoats. --Not a rag was left behind. --"_No, --she will never look up again_," said _Susannah_. We had a fat, foolish scullion--my father, I think, kept her for her simplicity; --she had been all autumn struggling with a dropsy. --He is dead, said _Obadiah_, --he is certainly dead! --So am not I, said the foolish scullion. ----Here is sad news, _Trim_, cried _Susannah_, wiping her eyes as _Trim_ stepp'd into the kitchen, --master _Bobby_ is dead and _buried_--the funeral was an interpolation of _Susannah's_--we shall have all to go into mourning, said _Susannah_. I hope not, said _Trim_. --You hope not! cried _Susannah_ earnestly. --The mourning ran not in _Trim's_ head, whatever it did in _Susannah's_. --I hope--said _Trim_, explaining himself, I hope in God the news is not true. --I heard the letter read with my own ears, answered _Obadiah_; and we shall have a terrible piece of work of it in stubbing the Ox-moor. --Oh! he's dead, said _Susannah_. --As sure, said the scullion, as I'm alive. I lament for him from my heart and my soul, said _Trim_, fetching a sigh. --Poor creature! --poor boy! --poor gentleman. --He was alive last _Whitsontide!_ said the coachman. --_Whitsontide!_ alas! cried _Trim_, extending his right arm, and falling instantly into the same attitude in which he read the sermon, --what is _Whitsontide_, _Jonathan_ (for that was the coachman's name), or _Shrovetide_, or any tide or time past, to this? Are we not here now, continued the corporal (striking the end of his stick perpendicularly upon the floor, so as to give an idea of health and stability)--and are we not--(dropping his hat upon the ground) gone! in a moment! --'Twas infinitely striking! _Susannah_ burst into a flood of tears. --We are not stocks and stones. --_Jonathan_, _Obadiah_, the cook-maid, all melted. --The foolish fat scullion herself, who was scouring a fish-kettle upon her knees, was rous'd with it. --The whole kitchen crowded about the corporal. Now, as I perceive plainly, that the preservation of our constitution in church and state, --and possibly the preservation of the whole world--or what is the same thing, the distribution and balance of its property and power, may in time to come depend greatly upon the right understanding of this stroke of the corporal's eloquence --I do demand your attention--your worships and reverences, for any ten pages together, take them where you will in any other part of the work, shall sleep for it at your ease. I said, "we were not stocks and stones"--'tis very well. I should have added, nor are we angels, I wish we were, --but men clothed with bodies, and governed by our imaginations; --and what a junketing piece of work of it there is, betwixt these and our seven senses, especially some of them, for my own part, I own it, I am ashamed to confess. Let it suffice to affirm, that of all the senses, the eye (for I absolutely deny the touch, though most of your _Barbati_, I know, are for it) has the quickest commerce with the soul, --gives a smarter stroke, and leaves something more inexpressible upon the fancy, than words can either convey--or sometimes, get rid of. --I've gone a little about--no matter, 'tis for health--let us only carry it back in our mind to the mortality of _Trim's_ hat. --"Are we not here now, --and gone in a moment?" --There was nothing in the sentence--'twas one of your self-evident truths we have the advantage of hearing every day; and if _Trim_ had not trusted more to his hat than his head--he had made nothing at all of it. ------"Are we not here now;" continued the corporal, "and are we not"--(dropping his hat plump upon the ground--and pausing, before he pronounced the word)-- "gone! in a moment?" The descent of the hat was as if a heavy lump of clay had been kneeded into the crown of it. ----Nothing could have expressed the sentiment of mortality, of which it was the type and fore-runner, like it, --his hand seemed to vanish from under it, --it fell dead, --the corporal's eye fixed upon it, as upon a corpse, --and _Susannah_ burst into a flood of tears. Now --Ten thousand, and ten thousand times ten thousand (for matter and motion are infinite) are the ways by which a hat may be dropped upon the ground, without any effect. ----Had he flung it, or thrown it, or cast it, or skimmed it, or squirted it, or let it slip or fall in any possible direction under heaven, --or in the best direction that could be given to it, --had he dropped it like a goose--like a puppy--like an ass--or in doing it, or even after he had done, had he looked like a fool--like a ninny--like a nincompoop--it had fail'd, and the effect upon the heart had been lost. Ye who govern this mighty world and its mighty concerns with the _engines_ of eloquence, --who heat it, and cool it, and melt it, and mollify it, ----and then harden it again to _your purpose_---- Ye who wind and turn the passions with this great windlass, and, having done it, lead the owners of them, whither ye think meet-- Ye, lastly, who drive----and why not, Ye also who are driven, like turkeys to market with a stick and a red clout--meditate--meditate, I beseech you, upon _Trim's_ hat.

'My young master in London is dead!' said Obadiah. A green satin night-gown of my mother's, which had been twice cleaned, was the first idea which Obadiah's exclamation brought into Susannah's head. - Well might Locke write a chapter upon the imperfection of words. 'Then,' quoth Susannah, 'we must all go into mourning.' But note: the word mourning excited in Susannah's mind not one single idea tinged with grey or black. - All was the green of a green satin night-gown. 'O! 'twill be the death of my poor mistress,' cried Susannah. - My mother's whole wardrobe followed. What a procession! her red damask, her yellow lutestrings, her brown taffeta, her laced caps and bed-gowns and under-petticoats. Not a rag was left behind. 'No, she will never look up again,' said Susannah. We had a fat, foolish scullery-maid who had been all autumn struggling with a dropsy. 'He is dead!' said Obadiah. 'So am not I,' said the foolish scullery-maid. 'Here is sad news, Trim,' cried Susannah, wiping her eyes as Trim entered the kitchen. 'Master Bobby is dead and buried' - the funeral was an invention of Susannah's - 'and we shall all have to go into mourning.' 'I hope that the news is not true,' said Trim. 'I heard the letter read with my own ears,' answered Obadiah. 'Oh! he's dead,' said Susannah. 'As sure,' said the scullery-maid, 'as I'm alive.' 'I lament for him from my heart and soul,' said Trim, with a sigh. 'Poor boy!' 'He was alive last Whitsuntide!' said Jonathan the coachman. 'Whitsuntide! alas!' cried Trim, extending his right arm, and falling instantly into the same attitude in which he read the sermon. 'What is Whitsuntide, Jonathan, or any tide or time, to this? Are we not here now,' he continued (striking his stick upon the floor) - 'and are we not' (dropping his hat upon the ground) 'gone! in a moment!' Susannah burst into a flood of tears. 'We are not stocks and stones,' said Trim. Jonathan, Obadiah and the cook-maid all melted. Even the foolish scullery-maid, who was scouring a fish-kettle, was roused. The whole kitchen crowded about the corporal. Now, as I see that the preservation of our church and state - and possibly the distribution of property and power in the whole world - may in future depend upon the right understanding of the corporal's eloquence - I demand your attention, your worships. I said, 'we were not stocks and stones.' I should have added, nor are we angels, but men clothed with bodies, and governed by our imaginations; and what a junketing piece of work there is between these and our seven senses, especially some of my own, I am ashamed to confess. Let it suffice to say the eye has the quickest commerce with the soul, - gives a smarter stroke, and leaves more upon the fancy than words can convey. -I've gone a little astray - no matter, let us now go back to the mortality of Trim's hat. 'Are we not here now, and gone in a moment?' There was nothing in the sentence that we do not hear every day; and without the hat, Trim would have made nothing of it. 'Are we not here now;' said he, 'and are we not' (dropping his hat plump upon the ground) 'gone! in a moment?' The hat descended as if it held a lump of clay. Nothing could have expressed the sentiment of mortality like it; - it fell dead. The corporal's eye fixed upon it, as upon a corpse, and Susannah burst into tears. Now - a hat may be dropped in ten thousand ways, without any effect. Had he flung it, or thrown it, or skimmed it, or had he dropped it like a goose - like a nincompoop - it would have failed, and its effect have been lost. Ye who govern this mighty world with the engines of eloquence - who heat it, and cool it, and melt it, and mollify it- Ye who wind and turn the passions with this great windlass- Ye who drive - and why not Ye also who are driven, like turkeys to market with a stick - meditate, I beseech you, upon Trim's hat.

Tristram Shandy

Book 5 - Chapter 7

The description of the siege of _Jericho_ itself, could not have engaged the attention of my uncle _Toby_ more powerfully than the last chapter; --his eyes were fixed upon my father throughout it; --he never mentioned radical heat and radical moisture, but my uncle _Toby_ took his pipe out of his mouth, and shook his head; and as soon as the chapter was finished, he beckoned to the corporal to come close to his chair, to ask him the following question, --_aside_. ---- * * * * * * * * * It was at the siege of _Limerick_, an' please your honour, replied the corporal, making a bow. The poor fellow and I, quoth my uncle _Toby_, addressing himself to my father, were scarce able to crawl out of our tents, at the time the siege of _Limerick_ was raised, upon the very account you mention. ----Now what can have got into that precious noddle of thine, my dear brother _Toby?_ cried my father, mentally. ----By Heaven! continued he, communing still with himself, it would puzzle an _dipus_ to bring it in point.---- I believe, an' please your honour, quoth the corporal, that if it had not been for the quantity of brandy we set fire to every night, and the claret and cinnamon with which I plyed your honour off; --And the geneva, _Trim_, added my uncle _Toby_, which did us more good than all ----I verily believe, continued the corporal, we had both, an' please your honour, left our lives in the trenches, and been buried in them too. ----The noblest grave, corporal! cried my uncle _Toby_, his eyes sparkling as he spoke, that a soldier could wish to lie down in. ----But a pitiful death for him! an' please your honour, replied the corporal. All this was as much _Arabick_ to my father, as the rites of the _Colchi_ and _Troglodites_ had been before to my uncle _Toby_; my father could not determine whether he was to frown or to smile.---- My uncle _Toby_, turning to _Yorick_, resumed the case at _Limerick_, more intelligibly than he had begun it, --and so settled the point for my father at once.

The description of the siege of Jericho itself could not have held the attention of my uncle Toby more powerfully than the last chapter. His eyes were fixed upon my father throughout it; whenever he mentioned radical heat and radical moisture, my uncle took his pipe out of his mouth, and shook his head; and as soon as the chapter was finished, he beckoned to the corporal, to ask him the following question, (aside) - * * * * * * * * *? 'It was at the siege of Limerick, your honour,' replied the corporal. 'The poor fellow and I,' quoth my uncle Toby to my father, 'were scarce able to crawl out of our tents, when the siege of Limerick was raised, for the very reason you mention.' 'Now what can have got into that precious noddle of thine, my dear brother?' cried my father, mentally. 'I believe,' quoth the corporal, 'that if it had not been for the quantity of brandy we set fire to every night, and the claret and cinnamon which I gave your honour-' '-And the Geneva gin, Trim,' added my uncle Toby, 'which did us more good than all-' '-I verily believe, your honour,' continued the corporal, 'we would both have died in the trenches, and been buried there.' 'The noblest grave a soldier could wish for, corporal!' cried my uncle Toby, his eyes sparkling. 'But a pitiful death!' replied the corporal. All this was as much Arabic to my father; he did not know whether to frown or smile. My uncle Toby, turning to Yorick, began the account of Limerick, and settled the point for my father at once.

Tristram Shandy

Book 5 - Chapter 37

All which being considered, and that Death moreover might be much nearer me than I imagined ----I wish I was at _Abbeville_, quoth I, were it only to see how they card and spin----so off we set. [7.1]_de Montreuil Nampont - poste et demi_ _de Nampont_ Bernay - - - poste de Bernay Nouvion - - - poste de Nouvion ABBEVILLE - - poste ----but the carders and spinners were all gone to bed. [Footnote 7.1: Vid. Book of French post roads, page 36, edition of 1762.]

All which being considered, and because Death might be much nearer to me than I imagined - 'I wish I was at Abbeville,' quoth I, 'if only to see how they card and spin' - so off we set. From Montreuil to Nampont - from Nampont to Bernay - from Bernay to Nouvion - from Nouvion to Abbeville- - but the carders and spinners were all gone to bed.

Tristram Shandy

Book 7 - Chapter 10

My father put on his spectacles--looked, --took them off, --put them into the case--all in less than a statutable minute; and without opening his lips, turned about and walked precipitately down stairs: my mother imagined he had stepped down for lint and basilicon; but seeing him return with a couple of folios under his arm, and _Obadiah_ following him with a large reading-desk, she took it for granted 'twas an herbal, and so drew him a chair to the bedside, that he might consult upon the case at his ease. ----If it be but right done, --said my father, turning to the _Section--de sede vel subjecto circumcisionis_, ----for he had brought up _Spenser de Legibus Hebrorum Ritualibus_--and _Maimonides_, in order to confront and examine us altogether.-- ----If it be but right done, quoth he: --only tell us, cried my mother, interrupting him, what herbs? ----For that, replied my father, you must send for Dr. _Slop_. My mother went down, and my father went on, reading the section as follows, * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * ------Very well, --said my father, * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * --nay, if it has that convenience----and so without stopping a moment to settle it first in his mind, whether the _Jews_ had it from the _Egyptians_, or the _Egyptians_ from the _Jews_, --he rose up, and rubbing his forehead two or three times across with the palm of his hand, in the manner we rub out the footsteps of care, when evil has trod lighter upon us than we foreboded, --he shut the book, and walked down stairs. --Nay, said he, mentioning the name of a different great nation upon every step as he set his foot upon it--if the EGYPTIANS, --the SYRIANS, --the PHOENICIANS, --the ARABIANS, --the CAPPADOCIANS, ----if the COLCHI, and TROGLODYTES did it----if SOLON and PYTHAGORAS submitted, --what is TRISTRAM? ----Who am I, that I should fret or fume one moment about the matter?

My father put on his spectacles - looked - took them off, and without opening his lips, turned about and walked quickly down stairs. My mother imagined he had stepped down for a bandage and basilicon ointment; but seeing him return with a couple of tomes, and Obadiah following him with a large reading-desk, she assumed the books to be herbals, and drew him a chair to the bedside, so that he might consult on the case at his ease. 'If it be but right done,' said my father, turning to the Section de sede vel subjecto circumcisionis, - for he had brought up Spenser de Legibus Hebraeorum Ritualibus, and Maimonides. '- Only tell us,' cried my mother, interrupting him, 'what herbs?' 'For that,' replied my father, 'you must send for Dr. Slop.' My mother went down, and my father went on reading the section as follows: * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 'Very well,' said my father; * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * '- nay, if it has that convenience-' - and without stopping to decide whether the Jews had it from the Egyptians, or the Egyptians from the Jews, he rose; and rubbing his forehead as if rubbing out the footsteps of care, he shut the book, and walked down stairs. 'Nay,' said he, mentioning the name of a different great nation upon every step as he set his foot upon it - 'if the Egyptians, the Syrians, the Phoenicians, the Arabians, and the Cappadocians did it - if Solon and Pythagoras submitted - what is Tristram? who am I, to fret or fume about the matter?'

Tristram Shandy

Book 5 - Chapter 27

A delusive, delicious consultation or two of this kind, betwixt my uncle _Toby_ and _Trim_, upon the demolition of _Dunkirk_, --for a moment rallied back the ideas of those pleasures, which were slipping from under him: ----still--still all went on heavily----the magic left the mind the weaker --STILLNESS, with SILENCE at her back, entered the solitary parlour, and drew their gauzy mantle over my uncle _Toby's_ head; ----and LISTLESSNESS, with her lax fibre and undirected eye, sat quietly down beside him in his arm-chair. ----No longer _Amberg_ and _Rhinberg_, and _Limbourg_, and _Huy_, and _Bonn_, in one year, --and the prospect of _Landen_, and _Trerebach_, and _Drusen_, and _Dendermond_, the next, --hurried on the blood: --No longer did saps, and mines, and blinds, and gabions, and palisadoes, keep out this fair enemy of man's repose: ----No more could my uncle _Toby_, after passing the _French_ lines, as he eat his egg at supper, from thence break into the heart of _France_, --cross over the _Oyes_, and with all _Picardie_ open behind him, march up to the gates of _Paris_, and fall asleep with nothing but ideas of glory: ----No more was he to dream he had fixed the royal standard upon the tower of the _Bastile_, and awake with it streaming in his head. ----Softer visions, --gentler vibrations stole sweetly in upon his slumbers; --the trumpet of war fell out of his hands, --he took up the lute, sweet instrument! of all others the most delicate! the most difficult! ----how wilt thou touch it, my dear uncle _Toby?_

A delusive, delicious consultation or two of this kind, betwixt my uncle Toby and Trim, upon the demolition of Dunkirk, for a moment recalled the ideas of those pleasures which were slipping from under him. Yet all went on heavily. Stillness and Silence entered the solitary parlour, and drew their gauzy mantle over my uncle Toby's head; and Listlessness sat quietly down beside him in his arm-chair. No longer did Amberg and Rhinberg and Limbourg and the rest hurry on the blood. No longer did saps, and mines, and palisades, keep out this fair enemy of man's repose. No more could my uncle Toby, after passing the French lines, as he ate his egg at supper, then break into the heart of France, march up to the gates of Paris, and fall asleep with nothing but ideas of glory. No more could he dream that he had fixed the royal standard upon the tower of the Bastille, and awake with it streaming in his head. -Softer visions - gentler vibrations - stole sweetly in upon his slumbers. The trumpet of war fell from his hands; he took up the lute, sweet instrument! of all the most delicate! the most difficult! - How wilt thou touch it, my dear uncle Toby?

Tristram Shandy

Book 6 - Chapter 35

----I would be picquetted to death, cried the corporal, as he concluded _Susannah's_ story, before I would suffer the woman to come to any harm, --'twas my fault, an' please your honour, --not hers. Corporal _Trim_, replied my uncle _Toby_, putting on his hat which lay upon the table, ----if anything can be said to be a fault, when the service absolutely requires it should be done, --'tis I certainly who deserve the blame, ----you obeyed your orders. Had count _Solmes_, _Trim_, done the same at the battle of _Steenkirk_, said _Yorick_, drolling a little upon the corporal, who had been run over by a dragoon in the retreat, ----he had saved thee; ----Saved! cried _Trim_, interrupting _Yorick_, and finishing the sentence for him after his own fashion, ----he had saved five battalions, an' please your reverence, every soul of them: ----there was _Cutts's_--continued the corporal, clapping the forefinger of his right hand upon the thumb of his left, and counting round his hand, ----there was _Cutts's_, ----_Mackay's_, ----_Angus's_, ----_Graham's_, ----and _Leven's_, all cut to pieces; ----and so had the _English_ life-guards too, had it not been for some regiments upon the right, who marched up boldly to their relief, and received the enemy's fire in their faces, before any one of their own platoons discharged a musket, ----they'll go to heaven for it, --added _Trim_. --_Trim_ is right, said my uncle _Toby_, nodding to _Yorick_, ----he's perfectly right. What signified his marching the horse, continued the corporal, where the ground was so straight, that the _French_ had such a nation of hedges, and copses, and ditches, and fell'd trees laid this way and that to cover them; (as they always have). ----Count _Solmes_ should have sent us, ----we would have fired muzzle to muzzle with them for their lives. ----There was nothing to be done for the horse: ----he had his foot shot off however for his pains, continued the corporal, the very next campaign at _Landen_. --Poor _Trim_ got his wound there, quoth my uncle _Toby_. ----'Twas owing, an' please your honour, entirely to count _Solmes_, ----had he drubb'd them soundly at _Steenkirk_, they would not have fought us at _Landen_. ----Possibly not, ----_Trim_, said my uncle _Toby_; ----though if they have the advantage of a wood, or you give them a moment's time to intrench themselves, they are a nation which will pop and pop for ever at you. ----There is no way but to march coolly up to them, ----receive their fire, and fall in upon them, pell-mell ----Ding dong, added _Trim_. ----Horse and foot, said my uncle _Toby_. ----Helter skelter, said _Trim_. ----Right and left, cried my uncle _Toby_. ----Blood an' ounds, shouted the corporal; ----the battle raged, ----_Yorick_ drew his chair a little to one side for safety, and after a moment's pause, my uncle _Toby_ sinking his voice a note, --resumed the discourse as follows.

'I would be impaled on stakes,' cried the corporal, 'before I would allow the woman to come to any harm; 'twas my fault, your honour, not hers.' 'Corporal Trim,' replied my uncle Toby, ''tis I certainly who deserve the blame, - you obeyed your orders.' 'Had Count Solmes done the same at the battle of Steenkirk,' said Yorick to the corporal, who had been run over by a dragoon in the retreat, 'he would have saved thee.' 'Saved!' cried Trim; 'he would have saved five battalions, your reverence; there was Cutts's,' he continued counting on his fingers, 'Mackay's, Angus's, Graham's, and Leven's, all cut to pieces; and so would the English life-guards have been too, had it not been for some regiments upon the right, who marched up boldly to relieve them, and received the enemy's fire in their faces - they'll go to heaven for it.' 'Trim is right,' said my uncle Toby, nodding. 'What signified his marching the cavalry,' continued the corporal, 'where the ground was so straight, and the French had so many hedges, and copses, and ditches to cover them. - Count Solmes should have sent us; we would have fired muzzle to muzzle with them. He had his foot shot off however for his pains, the very next campaign at Landen.' 'Poor Trim got his wound there,' quoth my uncle Toby. ''Twas owing, your honour, entirely to Count Solmes - had he drubbed them soundly at Steenkirk, they would not have fought us at Landen.' 'Possibly not, Trim,' said my uncle Toby; 'though if you give them a moment's time to entrench themselves, they are a nation which will pop and pop for ever at you. There is no way but to march coolly up to them, - receive their fire, and fall upon them, pell-mell.' 'Ding dong,' added Trim. 'Horse and foot,' said my uncle. 'Helter skelter,' said Trim. 'Right and left,' cried my uncle Toby. 'Blood an' ounds,' shouted the corporal. The battle raged; Yorick drew his chair to one side for safety, and after a moment, my uncle Toby, sinking his voice, resumed as follows.

Tristram Shandy

Book 5 - Chapter 21

The anguish of my knee, continued the corporal, was excessive in itself; and the uneasiness of the cart, with the roughness of the roads, which were terribly cut up--making bad still worse--every step was death to me: so that with the loss of blood, and the want of care-taking of me, and a fever I felt coming on besides----(Poor soul! said my uncle _Toby_)----all together, an' please your honour, was more than I could sustain. I was telling my sufferings to a young woman at a peasant's house, where our cart, which was the last of the line, had halted; they had help'd me in, and the young woman had taken a cordial out of her pocket and dropp'd it upon some sugar, and seeing it had cheer'd me, she had given it me a second and a third time ----So I was telling her, an' please your honour, the anguish I was in, and was saying it was so intolerable to me, that I had much rather lie down upon the bed, turning my face towards one which was in the corner of the room--and die, than go on----when, upon her attempting to lead me to it, I fainted away in her arms. She was a good soul! as your honour, said the corporal, wiping his eyes, will hear. I thought _love_ had been a joyous thing, quoth my uncle _Toby_. 'Tis the most serious thing, an' please your honour (sometimes), that is in the world. By the persuasion of the young woman, continued the corporal, the cart with the wounded men set off without me: she had assured them I should expire immediately if I was put into the cart. So when I came to myself ----I found myself in a still quiet cottage, with no one but the young woman, and the peasant and his wife. I was laid across the bed in the corner of the room, with my wounded leg upon a chair, and the young woman beside me, holding the corner of her handkerchief dipp'd in vinegar to my nose with one hand, and rubbing my temples with the other. I took her at first for the daughter of the peasant (for it was no inn)--so had offer'd her a little purse with eighteen florins, which my poor brother _Tom_ (here _Trim_ wip'd his eyes) had sent me as a token, by a recruit, just before he set out for _Lisbon_.---- ----I never told your honour that piteous story yet----here _Trim_ wiped his eyes a third time. The young woman call'd the old man and his wife into the room, to show them the money, in order to gain me credit for a bed and what little necessaries I should want, till I should be in a condition to be got to the hospital ----Come then! said she, tying up the little purse --I'll be your banker--but as that office alone will not keep me employ'd, I'll be your nurse too. I thought by her manner of speaking this, as well as by her dress, which I then began to consider more attentively----that the young woman could not be the daughter of the peasant. She was in black down to her toes, with her hair conceal'd under a cambric border, laid close to her forehead: she was one of those kind of nuns, an' please your honour, of which, your honour knows, there are a good many in _Flanders_, which they let go loose ----By thy description, _Trim_, said my uncle _Toby_, I dare say she was a young _Beguine_, of which there are none to be found anywhere but in the _Spanish Netherlands_--except at _Amsterdam_----they differ from nuns in this, that they can quit their cloister if they choose to marry; they visit and take care of the sick by profession ----I had rather, for my own part, they did it out of good-nature. ----She often told me, quoth _Trim_, she did it for the love of Christ --I did not like it. ----I believe, _Trim_, we are both wrong, said my uncle _Toby_--we'll ask Mr. _Yorick_ about it to-night at my brother _Shandy's_----so put me in mind; added my uncle _Toby_. The young _Beguine_, continued the corporal, had scarce given herself time to tell me "she would be my nurse," when she hastily turned about to begin the office of one, and prepare something for me----and in a short time--though I thought it a long one--she came back with flannels, &c. &c., and having fomented my knee soundly for a couple of hours, &c., and made me a thin bason of gruel for my supper--she wish'd me rest, and promised to be with me early in the morning. ----She wished me, an' please your honour, what was not to be had. My fever ran very high that night--her figure made sad disturbance within me --I was every moment cutting the world in two--to give her half of it--and every moment was I crying, That I had nothing but a knapsack and eighteen florins to share with her ----The whole night long was the fair _Beguine_, like an angel, close by my bedside, holding back the curtain and offering me cordials--and I was only awakened from my dream by her coming there at the hour promised, and giving them in reality. In truth, she was scarce ever from me; and so accustomed was I to receive life from her hands, that my heart sickened, and I lost colour when she left the room: and yet, continued the corporal (making one of the strangest reflections upon it in the world)---- ----"_It was not love_"----for during the three weeks she was almost constantly with me, fomenting my knee with her hand, night and day --I can honestly say, an' please your honour--that * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * once. That was very odd, _Trim_, quoth my uncle _Toby_. I think so too--said Mrs. _Wadman_. It never did, said the corporal.

'The anguish of my knee,' continued the corporal, 'was excessive; and the uneasiness of the cart on the rough roads made it still worse. Every step was death to me: so that with the loss of blood, and a fever besides, all together it was more than I could bear. 'Our cart halted at a peasants' house; they helped me in, and a young woman took a cordial from her pocket to give me. Seeing it cheered me, she gave it me a second and a third time. 'I told her of the anguish I was in, saying it was so intolerable to me, that I had much rather lie down and die, than go on - when, upon her attempting to lead me to the bed, I fainted away in her arms. She was a good soul! as your honour will hear,' said the corporal, wiping his eyes. 'I thought love was a joyous thing,' quoth my uncle Toby. ''Tis the most serious thing, your honour, (sometimes), in the world. The cart with the wounded men set off without me. So when I came round, I found myself in a quiet cottage, with no one but the young woman, and the peasant and his wife. I was laid across the bed in the corner, with my wounded leg upon a chair, and the young woman beside me, holding her handkerchief dipped in vinegar to my nose, and rubbing my temples. 'I took her at first for the peasant's daughter, so had offered her a little purse with eighteen florins, which my poor brother Tom had sent me, just before he set out for Lisbon. - I never told your honour that piteous story yet.' - Here Trim wiped his eyes again. 'The young woman called the old man and his wife into the room to show them the money,' he went on, 'in order to gain me credit for a bed and what necessaries I should want, till I could be got to the hospital. "Come then!" said she; "I'll be your banker - and I'll be your nurse too." 'I thought by her manner of speaking, as well as by her dress, that the young woman could not be the peasant's daughter. She was in black down to her toes, with her hair concealed under a cambric border: she was one of those kind of nuns, of which, your honour knows, there are a good many in Flanders.' 'By thy description, Trim,' said my uncle Toby, 'I dare say she was a young Beguine, who are found in the Spanish Netherlands. They differ from nuns in this, that they can quit their cloister if they choose to marry. They take care of the sick by profession - though I had rather they did it out of good-nature.' 'She often told me,' quoth Trim, 'she did it for the love of Christ. - I did not like it.' 'We'll ask Mr. Yorick about it to-night, at my brother Shandy's - so remind me,' said my uncle Toby. 'The young Beguine,' continued the corporal, 'having told me she would be my nurse, went to prepare something for me - and in a short time she came back with flannels, and having fomented my knee for a couple of hours, and made me a thin basin of gruel for my supper, she wished me rest, and promised to be with me early in the morning. 'I had little rest. My fever ran very high that night - I kept seeing her - I was every moment cutting the world in two, to give her half - and crying that I had nothing but a knapsack and eighteen florins to share with her. The whole night long, I dreamed the fair Beguine, like an angel, was close by my bedside, offering me cordials - and I was only awakened from my dreams by her coming as promised, and giving them in reality. She was scarce ever away from me; and so dependent on her was I, that my heart sickened when she left the room: and yet,' continued the corporal, making a strange observation- '- it was not love - for during the three weeks she was almost constantly with me, fomenting my knee with her hand, night and day - I can honestly say, your honour, that * * * * * * * * * * * * * ,not once.' 'That was very odd, Trim,' quoth my uncle Toby. 'I think so too,' said Mrs. Wadman. 'It never did,' said the corporal.

Tristram Shandy

Book 8 - Chapter 20

I have dropped the curtain over this scene for a minute, ----to remind you of one thing, ----and to inform you of another. What I have to inform you, comes, I own, a little out of its due course; ----for it should have been told a hundred and fifty pages ago, but that I foresaw then 'twould come in pat hereafter, and be of more advantage here than elsewhere. --Writers had need look before them, to keep up the spirit and connection of what they have in hand. When these two things are done, --the curtain shall be drawn up again, and my uncle _Toby_, my father, and Dr. _Slop_, shall go on with their discourse, without any more interruption. First, then, the matter which I have to remind you of, is this; ----that from the specimens of singularity in my father's notions in the point of christian-names, and that other previous point thereto, --you was led, I think, into an opinion (and I am sure I said as much), that my father was a gentleman altogether as odd and whimsical in fifty other opinions. In truth, there was not a stage in the life of man, from the very first act of his begetting, ----down to the lean and slippered pantaloon in his second childishness, but he had some favourite notion to himself, springing out of it, as sceptical, and as far out of the highway of thinking, as these two which have been explained. --Mr. _Shandy_, my father, Sir, would see nothing in the light in which others placed it; --he placed things in his own light; --he would weigh nothing in common scales; --no, he was too refined a researcher to lie open to so gross an imposition. --To come at the exact weight of things in the scientific steel-yard, the fulcrum, he would say, should be almost invisible, to avoid all friction from popular tenets; --without this the minuti of philosophy, which would always turn the balance, will have no weight at all. Knowledge, like matter, he would affirm, was divisible _in infinitum_; ----that the grains and scruples were as much a part of it, as the gravitation of the whole world. --In a word, he would say, error was error, --no matter where it fell, ----whether in a fraction, --or a pound, --'twas alike fatal to truth, and she was kept down at the bottom of her well, as inevitably by a mistake in the dust of a butterfly's wings, ----as in the disk of the sun, the moon, and all the stars of heaven put together. He would often lament that it was for want of considering this properly, and of applying it skilfully to civil matters, as well as to speculative truths, that so many things in this world were out of joint; ----that the political arch was giving way; ----and that the very foundations of our excellent constitution, in church and state, were so sapped as estimators had reported. You cry out, he would say, we are a ruined, undone people. Why? he would ask, making use of the sorites or syllogism of _Zeno_ and _Chrysippus_, without knowing it belonged to them. --Why? why are we a ruined people? --Because we are corrupted. --Whence is it, dear Sir, that we are corrupted? ----Because we are needy; ----our poverty, and not our wills, consent. ----And wherefore, he would add, are we needy? --From the neglect, he would answer, of our pence and our halfpence: --Our bank notes, Sir, our guineas, --nay, our shillings take care of themselves. 'Tis the same, he would say, throughout the whole circle of the sciences; --the great, the established points of them, are not to be broke in upon. --The laws of nature will defend themselves; --but error----(he would add, looking earnestly at my mother)----error, Sir, creeps in thro' the minute holes and small crevices which human nature leaves unguarded. This turn of thinking in my father, is what I had to remind you of: --The point you are to be informed of, and which I have reserved for this place, is as follows. Amongst the many and excellent reasons, with which my father had urged my mother to accept of Dr. _Slop's_ assistance preferably to that of the old woman, ----there was one of a very singular nature; which, when he had done arguing the manner with her as a Christian, and came to argue it over again with her as a philosopher, he had put his whole strength to, depending indeed upon it as his sheet-anchor. ----It failed him; tho' from no defect in the argument itself; but that, do what he could, he was not able for his soul to make her comprehend the drift of it. ----Cursed luck! ----said he to himself, one afternoon, as he walked out of the room, after he had been stating it for an hour and a half to her, to no manner of purpose; --cursed luck! said he, biting his lip as he shut the door, ----for a man to be master of one of the finest chains of reasoning in nature, --and have a wife at the same time with such a headpiece, that he cannot hang up a single inference within side of it, to save his soul from destruction. This argument, though it was entirely lost upon my mother, ----had more weight with him, than all his other arguments joined together: --I will therefore endeavour to do it justice, --and set it forth with all the perspicuity I am master of. My father set out upon the strength of these two following axioms: _First_, That an ounce of a man's own wit, was worth a ton of other people's; and, _Secondly_ (Which by the bye, was the ground-work of the first axiom, ----tho' it comes last), That every man's wit must come from every man's own soul, ----and no other body's. Now, as it was plain to my father, that all souls were by nature equal, ----and that the great difference between the most acute and the most obtuse understanding----was from no original sharpness or bluntness of one thinking substance above or below another, ----but arose merely from the lucky or unlucky organisation of the body, in that part where the soul principally took up her residence, ----he had made it the subject of his enquiry to find out the identical place. Now, from the best accounts he had been able to get of this matter, he was satisfied it could not be where _Des Cartes_ had fixed it, upon the top of the _pineal_ gland of the brain; which, as he philosophized, formed a cushion for her about the size of a marrow pea; tho', to speak the truth, as so many nerves did terminate all in that one place, --'twas no bad conjecture; ----and my father had certainly fallen with that great philosopher plumb into the centre of the mistake, had it not been for my uncle _Toby_, who rescued him out of it, by a story he told him of a _Walloon_ officer at the battle of _Landen_, who had one part of his brain shot away by a musket-ball, --and another part of it taken out after by a _French_ surgeon; and after all, recovered, and did his duty very well without it. If death, said my father, reasoning with himself, is nothing but the separation of the soul from the body; and if it is true that people can walk about and do their business without brains, --then certes the soul does not inhabit there. Q. E. D. As for that certain, very thin, subtle and very fragrant juice which _Coglionissimo Borri_, the great _Milanese_ physician affirms, in a letter to _Bartholine_, to have discovered in the cellul of the occipital parts of the cerebellum, and which he likewise affirms to be the principal seat of the reasonable soul (for, you must know, in these latter and more enlightened ages, there are two souls in every man living, --the one, according to the great _Metheglingius_, being called the _Animus_, the other, the _Anima_;)--as for the opinion, I say, of _Borri_, --my father could never subscribe to it by any means; the very idea of so noble, so refined, so immaterial, and so exalted a being as the _Anima_, or even the _Animus_, taking up her residence, and sitting dabbling, like a tadpole all day long, both summer and winter, in a puddle, ----or in a liquid of any kind, how thick or thin soever, he would say, shocked his imagination; he would scarce give the doctrine a hearing. What, therefore, seemed the least liable to objections of any, was that the chief sensorium, or head-quarters of the soul, and to which place all intelligences were referred, and from whence all her mandates were issued, --was in, or near, the cerebellum, --or rather somewhere about the _medulla oblongata_, wherein it was generally agreed by _Dutch_ anatomists, that all the minute nerves from all the organs of the seven senses concentered, like streets and winding alleys, into a square. So far there was nothing singular in my father's opinion, --he had the best of philosophers, of all ages and climates, to go along with him. ----But here he took a road of his own, setting up another _Shandean_ hypothesis upon these corner-stones they had laid for him; ----and which said hypothesis equally stood its ground; whether the subtilty and fineness of the soul depended upon the temperature and clearness of the said liquor, or of the finer network and texture in the cerebellum itself; which opinion he favoured. He maintained, that next to the due care to be taken in the act of propagation of each individual, which required all the thought in the world, as it laid the foundation of this incomprehensible contexture, in which wit, memory, fancy, eloquence, and what is usually meant by the name of good natural parts, do consist; --that next to this and his christian-name, which were the two original and most efficacious causes of all; ----that the third cause, or rather what logicians call the _Causa sine qu non_, and without which all that was done was of no manner of significance, ----was the preservation of this delicate and fine-spun web, from the havock which was generally made in it by the violent compression and crush which the head was made to undergo, by the nonsensical method of bringing us into the world by that foremost. ----This requires explanation. My father, who dipped into all kinds of books, upon looking into _Lithopdus Senonesis de Partu difficili_,[2.1] published by _Adrianus Smelvgot_, had found out, that the lax and pliable state of a child's head in parturition, the bones of the cranium having no sutures at that time, was such, ----that by force of the woman's efforts, which, in strong labour-pains, was equal, upon an average, to the weight of 470 pounds averdupois acting perpendicularly upon it; --it so happened, that in 49 instances out of 50, the said head was compressed and moulded into the shape of an oblong conical piece of dough, such as a pastry-cook generally rolls up in order to make a pye of. --Good God! cried my father, what havock and destruction must this make in the infinitely fine and tender texture of the cerebellum! --Or if there is such a juice as _Borri_ pretends, --is it not enough to make the clearest liquid in the world both feculent and mothery? But how great was his apprehension, when he farther understood, that this force acting upon the very vertex of the head, not only injured the brain itself, or cerebrum, --but that it necessarily squeezed and propelled the cerebrum towards the cerebellum, which was the immediate seat of the understanding! ----Angels and ministers of grace defend us! cried my father, ----can any soul withstand this shock? --No wonder the intellectual web is so rent and tattered as we see it; and that so many of our best heads are no better than a puzzled skein of silk, ----all perplexity, ----all confusion within-side. But when my father read on, and was let into the secret, that when a child was turned topsy-turvy, which was easy for an operator to do, and was extracted by the feet; --that instead of the cerebrum being propelled towards the cerebellum, the cerebellum, on the contrary, was propelled simply towards the cerebrum, where it could do no manner of hurt: ----By heavens! cried he, the world is in conspiracy to drive out what little wit God has given us, ----and the professors of the obstetric art are lifted into the same conspiracy. --What is it to me which end of my son comes foremost into the world, provided all goes right after, and his cerebellum escapes uncrushed? It is the nature of an hypothesis, when once a man has conceived it, that it assimilates every thing to itself, as proper nourishment; and, from the first moment of your begetting it, it generally grows the stronger by every thing you see, hear, read, or understand. This is of great use. When my father was gone with this about a month, there was scarce a phnomenon of stupidity or of genius, which he could not readily solve by it; --it accounted for the eldest son being the greatest blockhead in the family. ----Poor devil, he would say, --he made way for the capacity of his younger brothers. ----It unriddled the observations of drivellers and monstrous heads, ----shewing _ priori_, it could not be otherwise, ----unless **** I don't know what. It wonderfully explained and accounted for the acumen of the _Asiatic_ genius, and that sprightlier turn, and a more penetrating intuition of minds, in warmer climates; not from the loose and common-place solution of a clearer sky, and a more perpetual sunshine, &c. --which for aught he knew, might as well rarefy and dilute the faculties of the soul into nothing, by one extreme, --as they are condensed in colder climates by the other; ----but he traced the affair up to its spring-head; --shewed that, in warmer climates, nature had laid a lighter tax upon the fairest parts of the creation; --their pleasures more; --the necessity of their pains less, insomuch that the pressure and resistance upon the vertex was so slight, that the whole organisation of the cerebellum was preserved; ----nay, he did not believe, in natural births, that so much as a single thread of the net-work was broke or displaced, ----so that the soul might just act as she liked. When my father had got so far, ------what a blaze of light did the accounts of the _Csarian_ section, and of the towering geniuses who had come safe into the world by it, cast upon this hypothesis? Here you see, he would say, there was no injury done to the sensorium; --no pressure of the head against the pelvis; ----no propulsion of the cerebrum towards the cerebellum, either by the _os pubis_ on this side, or the _os coxygis_ on that; ------and pray, what were the happy consequences? Why, Sir, your _Julius Csar_, who gave the operation a name; --and your _Hermes Trismegistus_, who was born so before ever the operation had a name; ----your _Scipio Africanus_; your _Manlius Torquatus_; our _Edward_ the Sixth, --who, had he lived, would have done the same honour to the hypothesis: ----These, and many more who figured high in the annals of fame, --all came _side-way_, Sir, into the world. The incision of the _abdomen_ and _uterus_ ran for six weeks together in my father's head; ----he had read, and was satisfied, that wounds in the _epigastrium_, and those in the _matrix_, were not mortal; --so that the belly of the mother might be opened extremely well to give a passage to the child. --He mentioned the thing one afternoon to my mother, ------merely as a matter of fact; but seeing her turn as pale as ashes at the very mention of it, as much as the operation flattered his hopes, --he thought it as well to say no more of it, ----contenting himself with admiring, --what he thought was to no purpose to propose. This was my father Mr. _Shandy's_ hypothesis; concerning which I have only to add, that my brother _Bobby_ did as great honour to it (whatever he did to the family) as any one of the great heroes we spoke of: For happening not only to be christened, as I told you, but to be born too, when my father was at _Epsom_, ----being moreover my mother's _first_ child, --coming into the world with his head _foremost_, --and turning out afterwards a lad of wonderful slow parts, ----my father spelt all these together into his opinion: and as he had failed at one end, --he was determined to try the other. This was not to be expected from one of the sisterhood, who are not easily to be put out of their way, ----and was therefore one of my father's great reasons in favour of a man of science, whom he could better deal with. Of all men in the world, Dr. _Slop_ was the fittest for my father's purpose; ----for though this new-invented forceps was the armour he had proved, and what he maintained to be the safest instrument of deliverance, yet, it seems, he had scattered a word or two in his book, in favour of the very thing which ran in my father's fancy; ----tho' not with a view to the soul's good in extracting by the feet, as was my father's system, --but for reasons merely obstetrical. This will account for the coalition betwixt my father and Dr. _Slop_, in the ensuing discourse, which went a little hard against my uncle _Toby_. ----In what manner a plain man, with nothing but common sense, could bear up against two such allies in science, --is hard to conceive. --You may conjecture upon it, if you please, ----and whilst your imagination is in motion, you may encourage it to go on, and discover by what causes and effects in nature it could come to pass, that my uncle _Toby_ got his modesty by the wound he received upon his groin. --You may raise a system to account for the loss of my nose by marriage-articles, --and shew the world how it could happen, that I should have the misfortune to be called TRISTAM, in opposition to my father's hypothesis, and the wish of the whole family, Godfathers and Godmothers not excepted. --These, with fifty other points left yet unravelled, you may endeavour to solve if you have time; ----but I tell you beforehand it will be in vain, for not the sage _Alquife_, the magician in Don _Belianis_ of _Greece_, nor the no less famous _Urganda_, the sorceress his wife, (were they alive), could pretend to come within a league of the truth. The reader will be content to wait for a full explanation of these matters till the next year, ----when a series of things will be laid open which he little expects. [Footnote 2.1: The author is here twice mistaken; for _Lithopdus_ should be wrote thus, _Lithopdii Senonensis Icon_. The second mistake is, that this _Lithopdus_ is not an author, but a drawing of a petrified child. The account of this, published by _Athosius_ 1580, may be seen at the end of _Cordus's_ works in _Spachius_. Mr. _Tristram Shandy_ has been led into this error, either from seeing _Lithopdus's_ name of late in a catalogue of learned writers in Dr. ----, or by mistaking _Lithopdus_ for _Trinecavellius_, ----from the too great similitude of the names.]

I have dropped the curtain over this scene for a minute, to remind you of one thing, and to inform you of another. What I have to inform you, comes, I own, a little out of its due course; - for it should have been told a hundred and fifty pages ago, but I foresaw that 'twould come in pat, and be of more advantage here than elsewhere. Writers need to look ahead, to keep up the spirit and connection of what they have in hand. When these two things are done, the curtain shall be drawn up again, and my uncle Toby, my father, and Dr. Slop shall go on with their discourse without any more interruption. First, then, I have to remind you of this; - that from the example of my father's unusual notions about Christian names, you were led into assuming that he was just as odd and whimsical in fifty other opinions. In truth, there was not a stage in the life of man, from his begetting to the lean and slippered pantaloon, that he did not have some favourite notion of, far out of the highway of thinking. My father, Sir, saw nothing in the light in which others placed it; he placed things in his own light. Knowledge, like matter, he would affirm, was divisible into grains and scruples ad infinitum. Error was error; no matter where it fell, 'twas fatal to truth, who was kept down at the bottom of her well as inevitably by a mistake in the dust of a butterfly's wings, as in the disk of the sun, the moon, and all the stars put together. He would often lament that it was due to neglect of this truth, that so many things in this world were out of joint; - and that the foundations of our church and state were weakened. He would say, 'We are a ruined people. Why?' he would ask, using the syllogism of Zeno and Chrysippus, without knowing it belonged to them. - 'Why are we ruined? Because we are corrupted. Why are we corrupted? Because we are needy. And why are we needy? From the neglect of our pence: our bank notes, Sir, take care of themselves. ''Tis the same,' he would say, 'throughout all the sciences; the great points are not to be broke in upon - the laws of nature will defend themselves - but error' (he would add, looking earnestly at my mother) - 'error creeps in through the minute holes and crevices which human nature leaves unguarded.' This style of thinking in my father, is what I had to remind you of. - The point you are to be informed of, and which I have reserved for this place, is as follows. Amongst the many and excellent reasons, with which my father had urged my mother to accept Dr. Slop's assistance rather than the old woman's, there was one particular reason which he put his whole strength to. - It failed because he could not make her comprehend its drift. 'Cursed luck!' said he to himself, one afternoon, as he walked out of the room after arguing it for an hour and a half with her, to no purpose; 'Cursed luck!' said he, biting his lip, 'for a man to be master of one of the finest chains of reasoning in nature, and have a wife with such a head that he cannot make an impression on it, to save his soul.' This argument, though it was entirely lost upon my mother, had more weight with him than all his other arguments together: I will therefore try to do it justice. My father began with these two axioms: First, that an ounce of a man's own wit was worth a ton of other people's. Secondly (which by the bye, was the basis of the first axiom, though it comes after), that every man's wit must come from his own soul, and no one else's. Now, it was plain to my father that all souls were equal, and that the difference between the most acute and the most obtuse understanding came not from any original sharpness or bluntness of one mind above or below another, but arose merely from the organisation of the body, in that part where the soul took up her residence. He had therefore researched exactly where that was. From the best accounts he could find, he believed it could not be where Des Cartes had fixed it, upon the top of the pineal gland of the brain; though, to speak the truth, as so many nerves terminated in that place, 'twas no bad guess; and my father would have certainly agreed with that great philosopher, had it not been for my uncle Toby telling him a story of an officer at the battle of Landen, who had one part of his brain shot away by a musket-ball, and another part of it taken out by a French surgeon; and afterwards recovered, and did his duty very well without it. If death, said my father, is nothing but the separation of the soul from the body; and if it is true that people can walk about and do their business without brains, then certainly the soul does not inhabit there. Q. E. D. As for that thin, subtle and fragrant juice which Borri, the great Milanese physician, claims to have discovered in the cerebellum, and which he affirms to be the seat of the soul, my father could not subscribe to this theory by any means. The very idea of so noble and exalted a being as the soul residing there and sitting dabbling like a tadpole all day long, in a puddle, shocked him. What, therefore, seemed the most likely head-quarters of the soul, was somewhere about the medulla oblongata, where, it was generally agreed by Dutch anatomists, all the minute nerves from the organs converged, like streets and winding alleys into a square. So far there was nothing singular in my father's opinion. - But here he took a road of his own, setting up another Shandean hypothesis upon these corner-stones. He maintained that next to the due care to be taken in the act of begetting each individual, and in naming him, the third aim of a parent was the preservation of this delicate and fine-spun web from the havoc which was generally made by the violent compression which the head was forced to undergo, by the nonsensical method of bringing us into the world head foremost. - This requires explanation. My father, who dipped into all kinds of books, upon looking into Smelvgot's Lithopdus Senonesis de Partu difficili had found out that the pliable state of a child's head at birth was such, that by force of the woman's efforts, which, in strong labour-pains, was equal, upon average, to the weight of 470 pounds acting perpendicularly upon it, - so it happened that in 49 cases out of 50, the child's head was compressed and moulded into the shape of a conical piece of dough, such as a pastry-cook rolls up to make a pie of. 'Good God!' cried my father, 'what havoc and destruction must this cause in the fine and tender texture of the cerebellum!' But how great was his apprehension, when he farther understood that this force squeezed and propelled the cerebrum towards the cerebellum, which was the seat of understanding! 'Angels defend us!' cried my father, - 'can any soul withstand this shock? No wonder the intellectual web is so tattered; and that so many of our best heads are all perplexity and confusion within.' But my father read on, and learned that when a child was turned topsy-turvy, which was easy for an operator to do, and was extracted by the feet; - that then the cerebellum was propelled simply towards the cerebrum, where it could do no harm. 'By heavens!' cried he, 'the world is in conspiracy to drive out what little wit God has given us. What is it to me which end of my son comes foremost into the world, provided his cerebellum escapes uncrushed?' It is the nature of an hypothesis, when once a man has created it, that it generally grows stronger with everything he hears or reads. When my father had held this hypothesis about a month, there was scarce a phenomenon of stupidity or genius which he could not readily solve by it; it accounted for his eldest son being the greatest blockhead in the family. 'Poor devil,' he would say, 'he made way for the capacity of his younger brothers.' It wonderfully explained the acumen of the Asiatic genius, and that sprightlier turn of minds in warmer climates; not from the common-place solution of a clearer sky, and more sunshine, &c; but he affirmed that in warmer climates, nature had laid a lighter tax upon the fairer sex, so that the pressure upon the head in childbirth was slight, the cerebellum was preserved, and the soul might act as it liked. When my father had got so far, what a blaze of light did the accounts of the Caesarean section, and of the towering geniuses who had come safe into the world by it, cast upon this hypothesis? 'Here you see,' he would say, 'there was no injury done; no pressure of the head against the pelvis; no propulsion of the cerebrum - and pray, what were the happy consequences? Why, Sir, Julius Caesar, who gave the operation a name; and Hermes Trismegistus, Scipio Africanus, and our Edward the Sixth, who, had he lived, would have done honour to the hypothesis. These, and many more famous men, all came sideways, Sir, into the world.' The incision of the uterus ran for six weeks in my father's head; he had read that wounds in the abdomen were not mortal, so that the belly of the mother might be opened extremely well to give a passage to the child. He mentioned this one afternoon to my mother, - merely as a matter of fact; but seeing her turn as pale as ashes at the very mention of it, he thought it as well to say no more, contenting himself with admiring it in silence. This was my father Mr. Shandy's hypothesis; concerning which I have only to add, that my brother Bobby did as much honour to it as any one of the great heroes we spoke of. For happening to be born when my father was at Epsom, - being moreover my mother's first child, coming into the world head foremost, and turning out afterwards a lad of wonderful slowness, - my father was confirmed in his opinion: and as he had failed at one end, he was determined to try the other. This was not to be expected from the midwife, - and was therefore one of my father's reasons in favour of a man of science, whom he could better deal with. Of all men in the world, Dr. Slop was the fittest for my father's purpose; for though this new-invented forceps was, he maintained, the safest instrument of deliverance, yet, it seems, he had scattered a word or two in his book, in favour of extracting the baby by its feet; though not for the soul's good, but for reasons merely obstetrical. This will account for the coalition betwixt my father and Dr. Slop in the ensuing discourse, which went a little hard against my uncle Toby. How a plain man could bear up against two such allies in science, is hard to conceive. You may conjecture upon it, if you please, - and whilst your imagination is in motion, you may encourage it to discover how my uncle Toby got his modesty by the wound upon his groin. You may try to account for the loss of my nose by marriage-articles, and show the world how I could have the misfortune to be called Tristram, in opposition to my father's hypothesis, and the wishes of the whole family. These, with fifty other points left yet unravelled, you may endeavour to solve; but I tell you now it will be in vain, for you will not come within a league of the truth. The reader must wait for a full explanation of these matters till next year, when a series of events will be laid open which he little expects.

Tristram Shandy

Book 2 - Chapter 19

It is two hours, and ten minutes--and no more--cried my father, looking at his watch, since Dr. _Slop_ and _Obadiah_ arrived--and I know not how it happens, brother _Toby_--but to my imagination it seems almost an age. ----Here--pray, Sir, take hold of my cap--nay, take the bell along with it, and my pantoufles too. Now, Sir, they are all at your service; and I freely make you a present of 'em, on condition you give me all your attention to this chapter. Though my father said, "_he knew not how it happen'd_," --yet he knew very well how it happen'd; ----and at the instant he spoke it, was pre-determined in his mind to give my uncle _Toby_ a clear account of the matter by a metaphysical dissertation upon the subject of _duration and its simple modes_, in order to shew my uncle _Toby_ by what mechanism and mensurations in the brain it came to pass, that the rapid succession of their ideas, and the eternal scampering of the discourse from one thing to another, since Dr. _Slop_ had come into the room, had lengthened out so short a period to so inconceivable an extent. ----"I know not how it happens--cried my father, --but it seems an age." ----'Tis owing entirely, quoth my uncle _Toby_, to the succession of our ideas. My father, who had an itch, in common with all philosophers, of reasoning upon everything which happened, and accounting for it too--proposed infinite pleasure to himself in this, of the succession of ideas, and had not the least apprehension of having it snatch'd out of his hands by my uncle _Toby_, who (honest man!) generally took everything as it happened; ----and who, of all things in the world, troubled his brain the least with abstruse thinking; --the ideas of time and space--or how we came by those ideas--or of what stuff they were made----or whether they were born with us--or we picked them up afterwards as we went along--or whether we did it in frocks----or not till we had got into breeches--with a thousand other inquiries and disputes about INFINITY, PRESCIENCE, LIBERTY, NECESSITY, and so forth, upon whose desperate and unconquerable theories so many fine heads have been turned and cracked----never did my uncle _Toby's_ the least injury at all; my father knew it--and was no less surprized than he was disappointed, with my uncle's fortuitous solution. Do you understand the theory of that affair? replied my father. Not I, quoth my uncle. --But you have some ideas, said my father, of what you talk about?-- No more than my horse, replied my uncle _Toby_. Gracious heaven! cried my father, looking upwards, and clasping his two hands together----there is a worth in thy honest ignorance, brother _Toby_----'twere almost a pity to exchange it for a knowledge. --But I'll tell thee.---- To understand what _time_ is aright, without which we never can comprehend _infinity_, insomuch as one is a portion of the other----we ought seriously to sit down and consider what idea it is we have of _duration_, so as to give a satisfactory account how we came by it. ----What is that to anybody? quoth my uncle _Toby_. [3.3]_For if you will turn your eyes inwards upon your mind_, continued my father, _and observe attentively, you will perceive, brother, that whilst you and I are talking together, and thinking, and smoking our pipes, or whilst we receive successively ideas in our minds, we know that we do exist, and so we estimate the existence, or the continuation of the existence of ourselves, or anything else, commensurate to the succession of any ideas in our minds, the duration of ourselves, or any such other thing co-existing with our thinking----and so according to that preconceived_ ------You puzzle me to death, cried my uncle _Toby_. ------'Tis owing to this, replied my father, that in our computations of _time_, we are so used to minutes, hours, weeks, and months----and of clocks (I wish there was not a clock in the kingdom) to measure out their several portions to us, and to those who belong to us----that 'twill be well, if in time to come, the _succession of our ideas_ be of any use or service to us at all. Now, whether we observe it or no, continued my father, in every sound man's head, there is a regular succession of ideas of one sort or other, which follow each other in train just like ------A train of artillery? said my uncle _Toby_ ----A train of a fiddle-stick! --quoth my father--which follow and succeed one another in our minds at certain distances, just like the images in the inside of a lanthorn turned round by the heat of a candle. --I declare, quoth my uncle _Toby_, mine are more like a smoak-jack. ------Then, brother _Toby_, I have nothing more to say to you upon that subject, said my father. [Footnote 3.3: Vide Locke.]

'It is two hours, and ten minutes,' cried my father, looking at his watch, 'since Dr. Slop and Obadiah arrived - and I know not how it happens, brother Toby, but to my imagination it seems an age.' - Here - pray, Sir, take my cap, and my bell, and my slippers. I freely make you a present of 'em, on condition you give me all your attention in this chapter. Though my father said, 'he knew not how it happened,' yet he knew very well how it happened; - and at the instant he spoke it, decided to give my uncle Toby a clear account of the matter by a metaphysical dissertation upon the duration of time and its modes, in order to show my uncle by what mechanism in the brain it happened that the rapid succession of their ideas, and the eternal scampering of the discussion from one thing to another, had lengthened out so short a period to so great an extent. - 'I know not how it happens,' cried my father, 'but it seems an age.' ''Tis owing entirely,' quoth my uncle Toby, 'to the succession of our ideas.' My father had proposed infinite pleasure to himself in this argument of the succession of ideas, and had not the least apprehension of having it snatched out of his hands by my uncle Toby, who (honest man!) generally never troubled his brain with abstruse ideas of time and space. Theories about Infinity, Prescience, Liberty, Necessity, and so forth, which have cracked so many fine heads, never did my uncle Toby's head the least injury. My father knew it, and was no less surprised than he was disappointed with my uncle's answer. 'Do you understand the theory of that?' he asked. 'Not I,' quoth my uncle. 'But you have some idea of what you talk about?' 'No more than my horse,' replied my uncle Toby. 'Gracious heaven!' cried my father, 'there is a worth in thy honest ignorance, brother Toby - 'twere almost a pity to exchange it for knowledge. - But I'll tell thee. To understand what time is, without which we never can comprehend infinity, - we ought seriously to sit down and consider what idea we have of duration, and how we came by it.' 'Why?' 'If you will turn your eyes inwards upon your mind,' continued my father, 'you will perceive, brother, that whilst we are talking, and thinking, and smoking our pipes, we know that we exist, and so we estimate the existence, or the continuation of the existence of ourselves, or anything else, commensurate to the succession of any ideas in our minds, the duration of ourselves, or any such other thing co-existing with our thinking - and so according to that preconceived-' 'You puzzle me to death,' cried my uncle Toby. 'In every man's head, there is a regular succession of ideas which follow each other in train just like-' 'A train of artillery?' said my uncle Toby. 'A train of a fiddle-stick!' quoth my father. '- which follow and succeed one another in our minds like the images in the inside of a lantern turned round by the heat of a candle.' 'I declare,' quoth my uncle, 'mine are more like a smoke-jack that turns a spit in a chimney.' 'Then, brother Toby, I have nothing more to say to you upon the subject,' said my father.

Tristram Shandy

Book 3 - Chapter 18

My father was returned from his walk to the fish-pond----and opened the parlour-door in the very height of the attack, just as my uncle _Toby_ was marching up the glacis----_Trim_ recovered his arms----never was my uncle _Toby_ caught in riding at such a desperate rate in his life! Alas! my uncle _Toby!_ had not a weightier matter called forth all the ready eloquence of my father--how hadst thou then and thy poor HOBBY-HORSE too been insulted! My father hung up his hat with the same air he took it down; and after giving a slight look at the disorder of the room, he took hold of one of the chairs which had formed the corporal's breach, and placing it over-against my uncle _Toby_, he sat down in it, and as soon as the tea-things were taken away, and the door shut, he broke out in a lamentation as follows. MY FATHER'S LAMENTATION It is in vain longer, said my father, addressing himself as much to _Ernulphus's_ curse, which was laid upon the corner of the chimney-piece----as to my uncle _Toby_ who sat under it----it is in vain longer, said my father, in the most querulous monotony imaginable, to struggle as I have done against this most uncomfortable of human persuasions ----I see it plainly, that either for my own sins, brother _Toby_, or the sins and follies of the _Shandy_ family, Heaven has thought fit to draw forth the heaviest of its artillery against me; and that the prosperity of my child is the point upon which the whole force of it is directed to play. ------Such a thing would batter the whole universe about our ears, brother _Shandy_, said my uncle _Toby_--if it was so --Unhappy _Tristram_: child of wrath! child of decrepitude! interruption! mistake! and discontent! What one misfortune or disaster in the book of embryotic evils, that could unmechanize thy frame, or entangle thy filaments! which has not fallen upon thy head, or ever thou camest into the world----what evils in thy passage into it! ------what evils since! ----produced into being, in the decline of thy father's days----when the powers of his imagination and of his body were waxing feeble----when radical heat and radical moisture, the elements which should have temper'd thine, were drying up; and nothing left to found thy stamina in, but negations--'tis pitiful------brother _Toby_, at the best, and called out for all the little helps that care and attention on both sides could give it. But how were we defeated! You know the event, brother _Toby_----'tis too melancholy a one to be repeated now----when the few animal spirits I was worth in the world, and with which memory, fancy, and quick parts should have been convey'd------were all dispersed, confused, confounded, scattered, and sent to the devil. ------ Here then was the time to have put a stop to this persecution against him; ------and tried an experiment at least------whether calmness and serenity of mind in your sister, with a due attention, brother _Toby_, to her evacuations and repletions------and the rest of her non-naturals, might not, in a course of nine months gestation, have set all things to rights. ------My child was bereft of these! ------What a teazing life did she lead herself, and consequently her ftus too, with that nonsensical anxiety of hers about lying-in in town? I thought my sister submitted with the greatest patience, replied my uncle _Toby_ --------I never heard her utter one fretful word about it. ------She fumed inwardly, cried my father; and that, let me tell you, brother, was ten times worse for the child--and then! what battles did she fight with me, and what perpetual storms about the midwife. ------There she gave vent, said my uncle _Toby_. ------Vent! cried my father, looking up. But what was all this, my dear _Toby_, to the injuries done us by my child's coming head foremost into the world, when all I wished, in this general wreck of his frame, was to have saved this little casket unbroke, unrifled.------ With all my precautions, how was my system turned topside-turvy in the womb with my child! his head exposed to the hand of violence, and a pressure of 470 pounds avoirdupois weight acting so perpendicularly upon its apex--that at this hour 'tis ninety _per Cent._ insurance, that the fine net-work of the intellectual web be not rent and torn to a thousand tatters. ----Still we could have done. ----Fool, coxcomb, puppy----give him but a NOSE ----Cripple, Dwarf, Driveller, Goosecap------(shape him as you will) the door of fortune stands open--_O Licetus!_ _Licetus!_ had I been blest with a ftus five inches long and a half, like thee --Fate might have done her worst. Still, brother _Toby_, there was one cast of the dye left for our child after all--_O Tristram!_ _Tristram!_ _Tristram!_ We will send for Mr. _Yorick_, said my uncle _Toby_. ----You may send for whom you will, replied my father.

My father returned from his walk to the fish-pond, and opened the parlour-door just as my uncle Toby was marching up the glacis. Never in his life was my uncle Toby caught riding at such a desperate rate! Alas! my uncle Toby! had not a weightier matter called forth my father's eloquence - how would thy poor Hobby-Horse then have been insulted! My father hung up his hat, and after glancing at the disorder of the room, he took one of the chairs which had formed the corporal's breach, and sat down in it. As soon as the tea-things were taken away, and the door shut, he broke out in a lamentation. MY FATHER'S LAMENTATION 'It is in vain,' said my father, 'to struggle any longer against this most uncomfortable idea. I see plainly, that either for my own sins, brother Toby, or for the sins and follies of the Shandy family, Heaven has arrayed its heaviest artillery against me; and its force is directed against the prosperity of my child.' 'Such a thing would batter the universe about our ears, brother Shandy,' said my uncle Toby, 'if it was so.' 'Unhappy Tristram: child of wrath! mistake! and discontent! What misfortune in the book of embryonic evils, has not fallen upon thy head, ever since thou camest into the world, in the decline of thy father's days - 'tis pitiful, brother Toby. How were we defeated! You know the event - 'tis too melancholy a one to be repeated now - when the few animal spirits I had, with which memory, imagination, and quick wits should have been conveyed to my son - were all dispersed, confused, and sent to the devil. 'Here was the time to have tried an experiment - whether serenity of mind in my wife, with a due attention, brother Toby, to her evacuations and repletions, might not, during nine months gestation, have set all things to rights. My child was bereft of these! What a teazing life did she lead herself, and consequently her foetus too, with that nonsensical anxiety about lying-in in town?' 'I thought my sister in law submitted with the greatest patience,' replied my uncle Toby. 'I never heard her utter one fretful word about it.' 'She fumed inwardly,' cried my father; 'and that, let me tell you, was ten times worse for the child. - And then! what battles did she fight with me about the midwife!' 'There she gave vent,' said my uncle Toby. 'Vent!' cried my father. 'But what was all this, my dear Toby, to the injuries done by my child's coming head foremost into the world, when all I wished was to have saved this little casket unbroke. - With all my precautions, my system was turned topside-turvy in the womb! his head exposed to the hand of violence, and a pressure of 470 pounds avoirdupois acting so upon its apex - 'tis ninety per cent likely that the fine net-work of the intellectual web was torn to a thousand tatters. 'Still we could have done,' he went on. 'Be he a fool, a cripple - give him but a Nose and the door of fortune stands open. There Fate has done her worst. Yet still, brother Toby, there was one cast of the dice left for our child. O Tristram! Tristram! Tristram!' 'We will send for Mr. Yorick,' said my uncle Toby. 'You may send for whom you will,' replied my father.

Tristram Shandy

Book 4 - Chapter 19

After my father had debated the affair of the breeches with my mother, --he consulted _Albertus Rubenius_ upon it; and _Albertus Rubenius_ used my father ten times worse in the consultation (if possible) than even my father had used my mother: For as _Rubenius_ had wrote a quarto _express_, _De re Vestiaria Veterum_, --it was _Rubenius's_ business to have given my father some lights. --On the contrary, my father might as well have thought of extracting the seven cardinal virtues out of a long beard, --as of extracting a single word out of _Rubenius_ upon the subject. Upon every other article of ancient dress, _Rubenius_ was very communicative to my father; --gave him a full and satisfactory account of The Toga, or loose gown. The Chlamys. The Ephod. The Tunica, or Jacket. The Synthesis. The Pnula. The Lacema, with its Cucullus. The Paludamentum. The Prtexta. The Sagum, or soldier's jerkin. The Trabea: of which, according to _Suetonius_, there were three kinds.-- ----But what are all these to the breeches? said my father. _Rubenius_ threw him down upon the counter all kinds of shoes which had been in fashion with the _Romans_.------ There was, The open shoe. The close shoe. The slip shoe. The wooden shoe. The soc. The buskin. And The military shoe with hobnails in it, which _Juvenal_ takes notice of. There were, The clogs. The pattins. The pantoufles. The brogues. The sandals, with latchets to them. There was, The felt shoe. The linen shoe. The laced shoe. The braided shoe. The calceus incisus. And The calceus rostratus. _Rubenius_ shewed my father how well they all fitted, --in what manner they laced on, --with what points, straps, thongs, latchets, ribbands, jaggs, and ends.------ ----But I want to be informed about the breeches, said my father. _Albertus Rubenius_ informed my father that the _Romans_ manufactured stuffs of various fabrics, ----some plain, --some striped, --others diapered throughout the whole contexture of the wool, with silk and gold ----That linen did not begin to be in common use till towards the declension of the empire, when the _Egyptians_ coming to settle amongst them, brought it into vogue. ----That persons of quality and fortune distinguished themselves by the fineness and whiteness of their clothes; which colour (next to purple, which was appropriated to the great offices) they most affected, and wore on their birthdays and public rejoicings. ----That it appeared from the best historians of those times, that they frequently sent their clothes to the fuller, to be clean'd and whitened: ----but that the inferior people, to avoid that expence, generally wore brown clothes, and of a something coarser texture, --till towards the beginning of _Augustus's_ reign, when the slave dressed like his master, and almost every distinction of habiliment was lost, but the _Latus Clavus_. And what was the _Latus Clavus?_ said my father. _Rubenius_ told him, that the point was still litigating amongst the learned: ----That _Egnatius_, _Sigonius_, _Bossius Ticinensis_, _Bayfius_, _Budus_, _Salmasius_, _Lipsius_, _Lazius_, _Isaac Casaubon_, and _Joseph Scaliger_, all differed from each other, --and he from them: That some took it to be the button, --some the coat itself, --others only the colour of it: --That the great _Bayfius_, in his Wardrobe of the Ancients, chap. 12--honestly said, he knew not what it was, --whether a tibula, --a stud, --a button, --a loop, --a buckle, --or clasps and keepers.------ ----My father lost the horse, but not the saddle ----They are _hooks and eyes_, said my father----and with hooks and eyes he ordered my breeches to be made.

After my father had debated the affair of the breeches with my mother, he consulted Albertus Rubenius upon it; and Rubenius used my father ten times worse (if possible) than my father had used my mother. My father might as well have thought of extracting the seven cardinal virtues out of a beard, as of extracting a single word out of Rubenius upon the subject. Upon every other article of ancient dress, Rubenius was very communicative; he gave a full and satisfactory account of The Toga, or loose gown. The Chlamys. The Ephod. The Tunica, or Jacket. The Synthesis. The Paenula. The Lacema, with its Cucullus. The Paludamentum. The Praetexta. The Sagum, or soldier's jerkin. 'But what are all these to the breeches?' said my father. Rubenius threw down upon the counter all kinds of shoes which had been in fashion with the Romans: The open shoe. The close shoe. The slip shoe. The wooden shoe. The hobnailed military shoe. The clogs. The pattins. The pantoufles. The brogues. The sandals. The felt shoe. The linen shoe. The laced shoe. The braided shoe. Rubenius shewed my father how well they all fitted, how they laced on, with what straps, thongs, ribbons, jags, and ends. 'But I want to know about the breeches,' said my father. Rubenius informed my father that the Romans manufactured various fabrics, some plain, some striped, some woven through with silk and gold; that linen was not in common use till the decline of the empire, when the Egyptians brought it into vogue. -That persons of quality distinguished themselves by the fineness and whiteness of their clothes; which colour they wore on their birthdays and public rejoicings. That it appeared from historians that they frequently sent their clothes to be cleaned and whitened: but that poorer people generally wore brown clothes of a coarser texture, till Augustus's reign, when the slave dressed like his master, and almost every distinction of dress was lost, but the Latus Clavus. 'And what was the Latus Clavus?' said my father. Rubenius told him that the point was still being argued amongst the learned: that Egnatius, Sigonius, Lipsius, Lazius, Casaubon and Scaliger, all differed from each other. Some took it to be the button; some the coat itself; others only the colour of it. Bayfius, in his Wardrobe of the Ancients, chap. 12, honestly said he knew not what it was, whether a stud, a button, a loop, a buckle, or a clasp. My father lost the horse, but not the saddle. 'They are hooks and eyes,' said he - and with hooks and eyes he ordered my breeches to be made.

Tristram Shandy

Book 6 - Chapter 19

From the first moment I sat down to write my life for the amusement of the world, and my opinions for its instruction, has a cloud insensibly been gathering over my father. ----A tide of little evils and distresses has been setting in against him. --Not one thing, as he observed himself, has gone right: and now is the storm thicken'd and going to break, and pour down full upon his head. I enter upon this part of my story in the most pensive and melancholy frame of mind that ever sympathetic breast was touched with. ----My nerves relax as I tell it. ----Every line I write, I feel an abatement of the quickness of my pulse, and of that careless alacrity with it, which every day of my life prompts me to say and write a thousand things I should not. ----And this moment that I last dipp'd my pen into my ink, I could not help taking notice what a cautious air of sad composure and solemnity there appear'd in my manner of doing it. ----Lord! how different from the rash jerks and hair-brain'd squirts thou art wont, _Tristram_, to transact it with in other humours--dropping thy pen----spurting thy ink about thy table and thy books--as if thy pen and thy ink, thy books and furniture cost thee nothing!

From the first moment I sat down to write this for the amusement and instruction of the world, a cloud has been slowly gathering over my father. A tide of little evils and distresses has been setting in against him. - Not one thing, as he observed, has gone right: and now is the storm going to break and pour down full upon his head. I enter upon this part of my story in a most pensive and melancholy frame of mind. Just now, when I dipped my pen into my ink, I could not help noticing with what a cautious, sad and solemn air I did it. - Lord! how different from the rash and hair-brained squirts thou art wont, Tristram, to use in other moods - dropping thy pen - spurting thy ink about thy table and books - as if they cost thee nothing!

Tristram Shandy

Book 3 - Chapter 28

----But for heaven's sake, let us not talk of quarts or gallons----let us take the story straight before us; it is so nice and intricate a one, it will scarce bear the transposition of a single tittle; and, somehow or other, you have got me thrust almost into the middle of it-- --I beg we may take more care.

But for heaven's sake, let us not talk of quarts or gallons - let us take the story straight before us; it is so intricate a one, it will scarce bear any part being out of place; and, somehow or other, you have got me thrust into the middle of it- - I beg we may take more care.

Tristram Shandy

Book 8 - Chapter 7

--And how does your mistress? cried my father, taking the same step over again from the landing, and calling to _Susannah_, whom he saw passing by the foot of the stairs with a huge pincushion in her hand--how does your mistress? As well, said _Susannah_, tripping by, but without looking up, as can be expected. --What a fool am I! said my father, drawing his leg back again--let things be as they will, brother _Toby_, 'tis ever the precise answer ----And how is the child, pray? ----No answer. And where is Dr. _Slop?_ added my father, raising his voice aloud, and looking over the ballusters--_Susannah_ was out of hearing. Of all the riddles of a married life, said my father, crossing the landing in order to set his back against the wall, whilst he propounded it to my uncle _Toby_----of all the puzzling riddles, said he, in a marriage state, ----of which you may trust me, brother _Toby_, there are more asses loads than all _Job's_ stock of asses could have carried----there is not one that has more intricacies in it than this--that from the very moment the mistress of the house is brought to bed, every female in it, from my lady's gentlewoman down to the cinder-wench, becomes an inch taller for it; and give themselves more airs upon that single inch, than all their other inches put together. I think rather, replied my uncle _Toby_, that 'tis we who sink an inch lower. --If I meet but a woman with child --I do it. --'Tis a heavy tax upon that half of our fellow-creatures, brother _Shandy_, said my uncle _Toby_--'Tis a piteous burden upon 'em, continued he, shaking his head --Yes, yes, 'tis a painful thing--said my father, shaking his head too----but certainly since shaking of heads came into fashion, never did two heads shake together, in concert, from two such different springs. God bless } 'em all------said my uncle _Toby_ and my Deuce take } father, each to himself.

'And how does your mistress?' cried my father, calling from the landing to Susannah, whom he saw passing the foot of the stairs with a huge pincushion in her hand. Susannah, without looking up, said, 'As well as can be expected.' 'What a fool am I!' said my father, drawing his leg back again. ''Tis ever the answer. - And how is the child, pray?' - No reply. - 'And where is Dr. Slop?' added my father, raising his voice, and looking over the banisters. - Susannah was out of hearing. 'Of all the riddles of a married life,' said my father, crossing the landing to set his back against the wall, 'of all the puzzling riddles, of which, brother Toby, there are more loads than all Job's asses could have carried - there is none more puzzling than this - that from the very moment the mistress of the house is brought to bed, every female in it, right down to the kitchen-maid, becomes an inch taller for it; and gives themselves more airs upon that single inch, than all their other inches put together.' 'I think rather,' replied my uncle Toby, 'that 'tis we who sink an inch lower. If I meet a woman with child, I do it. 'Tis a heavy tax upon that half of our fellow-creatures, brother Shandy - 'tis a piteous burden upon 'em,' continued he, shaking his head. 'Yes, yes, 'tis a painful thing,' said my father, shaking his head too - but never did two heads shake together, from two such different causes. 'God bless / Deuce take 'em all,' said my uncle Toby / and my father, each to himself.

Tristram Shandy

Book 4 - Chapter 12

When the town, with its works, was finished, my uncle _Toby_ and the corporal began to run their first parallel----not at random, or any how----but from the same points and distances the allies had begun to run theirs; and regulating their approaches and attacks, by the accounts my uncle _Toby_ received from the daily papers, --they went on, during the whole siege, step by step with the allies. When the duke of _Marlborough_ made a lodgment, ----my uncle _Toby_ made a lodgment too, ----And when the face of a bastion was battered down, or a defence ruined, --the corporal took his mattock and did as much, --and so on; ----gaining ground, and making themselves masters of the works one after another, till the town fell into their hands. To one who took pleasure in the happy state of others, --there could not have been a greater sight in the world, than, on a post-morning, in which a practicable breach had been made by the duke of _Marlborough_, in the main body of the place, --to have stood behind the horn-beam hedge, and observed the spirit with which my uncle _Toby_, with _Trim_ behind him, sallied forth; ----the one with the _Gazette_ in his hand, --the other with a spade on his shoulder to execute the contents. ----What an honest triumph in my uncle _Toby's_ looks as he marched up to the ramparts! What intense pleasure swimming in his eye as he stood over the corporal, reading the paragraph ten times over to him, as he was at work, lest, peradventure, he should make the breach an inch too wide, --or leave it an inch too narrow. ----But when the _chamade_ was beat, and the corporal helped my uncle up it, and followed with the colours in his hand, to fix them upon the ramparts --Heaven! Earth! Sea! ----but what avails apostrophes? ----with all your elements, wet or dry, ye never compounded so intoxicating a draught. In this track of happiness for many years, without one interruption to it, except now and then when the wind continued to blow due west for a week or ten days together, which detained the _Flanders_ mail, and kept them so long in torture, --but still 'twas the torture of the happy ----In this track, I say, did my uncle _Toby_ and _Trim_ move for many years, every year of which, and sometimes every month, from the invention of either the one or the other of them, adding some new conceit or quirk of improvement to their operations, which always opened fresh springs of delight in carrying them on. The first year's campaign was carried on from beginning to end, in the plain and simple method I've related. In the second year, in which my uncle _Toby_ took _Liege_ and _Ruremond_, he thought he might afford the expence of four handsome draw-bridges, of two of which I have given an exact description in the former part of my work. At the latter end of the same year he added a couple of gates with portcullises: ----These last were converted afterwards into orgues, as the better thing; and during the winter of the same year, my uncle _Toby_, instead of a new suit of clothes, which he always had at _Christmas_, treated himself with a handsome sentry-box, to stand at the corner of the bowling-green, betwixt which point and the foot of the glacis, there was left a little kind of an esplanade for him and the corporal to confer and hold councils of war upon. ----The sentry-box was in case of rain. All these were painted white three times over the ensuing spring, which enabled my uncle _Toby_ to take the field with great splendour. My father would often say to _Yorick_, that if any mortal in the whole universe had done such a thing, except his brother _Toby_, it would have been looked upon by the world as one of the most refined satires upon the parade and prancing manner in which _Lewis_ XIV. from the beginning of the war, but particularly that very year, had taken the field ----But 'tis not my brother _Toby's_ nature, kind soul! my father would add, to insult any one. ----But let us go on.

When the town, with its works, was finished, my uncle Toby and the corporal began to run their first parallel from the same points as the allies ran theirs; and following the accounts in the daily papers, they went on, during the whole siege, step by step with the allies. When the duke of Marlborough made a lodgment, my uncle Toby made one too. And when a bastion was battered down, or a defence ruined, the corporal took his mattock and did the same - and so on; gaining ground over the works, till the town fell into their hands. To one who took pleasure in the happiness of others, there could not have been a greater sight in the world, than to have stood behind the hornbeam hedge, and observed the spirit with which my uncle Toby and Trim sallied forth; the one with the Gazette in his hand, the other with a spade on his shoulder to execute its contents. What an honest triumph in my uncle Toby's looks as he marched up to the ramparts! What intense pleasure swimming in his eye as he stood over the corporal, reading the paragraph to him while he worked. - But when he mounted the chamade, with the colours in his hand, to fix them upon the ramparts - Heaven! Earth! Sea! wet or dry, ye never made so intoxicating a draught. In this happy track for many years, without interruption, except now and then when the west wind detained the Flanders mail, and kept them in torture - but still 'twas the torture of the happy - in this track, I say, my uncle Toby and Trim moved for many years, every year adding some improvement to their operations, which always opened fresh springs of delight. The first year's campaign was carried on in the plain and simple method I've related. In the second year, in which my uncle Toby took Liege and Ruremond, he thought he might afford the expense of four handsome draw-bridges, two of which I have described in the former part of my work. At the end of the same year he added a couple of gates with portcullises. That Christmas, instead of a new suit of clothes, he treated himself with a handsome sentry-box, to stand at the corner of the bowling-green: betwixt this and the glacis, there was a little esplanade for him and the corporal to hold councils of war upon. The sentry-box was in case of rain. The following spring, all these were painted white, which enabled my uncle Toby to take the field with great splendour. My father would often say to Yorick, that if any man alive had done such a thing, except his brother Toby, it would have been looked upon as a refined satire upon the parading, prancing manner in which Louis XIV had taken the field. 'But 'tis not my brother Toby's nature, kind soul!' my father would add, 'to insult any one.' - But let us go on.

Tristram Shandy

Book 6 - Chapter 22

It was not till my uncle _Toby_ had knocked the ashes out of his third pipe, that corporal _Trim_ returned from the inn, and gave him the following account. I despaired, at first, said the corporal, of being able to bring back your honour any kind of intelligence concerning the poor sick lieutenant --Is he in the army, then? said my uncle _Toby_ ----He is, said the corporal ----And in what regiment? said my uncle _Toby_ ----I'll tell your honour, replied the corporal, everything straight forwards, as I learnt it. --Then, _Trim_, I'll fill another pipe, said my uncle _Toby_, and not interrupt thee till thou hast done; so sit down at thy ease, _Trim_, in the window-seat, and begin thy story again. The corporal made his old bow, which generally spoke as plain as a bow could speak it--_Your honour is good_: ----And having done that, he sat down, as he was ordered, --and began the story to my uncle _Toby_ over again in pretty near the same words. I despaired at first, said the corporal, of being able to bring back any intelligence to your honour, about the lieutenant and his son; for when I asked where his servant was, from whom I made myself sure of knowing everything which was proper to be asked, --That's a right distinction, _Trim_, said my uncle _Toby_ --I was answered, an' please your honour, that he had no servant with him; ----that he had come to the inn with hired horses, which, upon finding himself unable to proceed (to join, I suppose, the regiment), he had dismissed the morning after he came. --If I get better, my dear, said he, as he gave his purse to his son to pay the man, --we can hire horses from hence. ----But alas! the poor gentleman will never get from hence, said the landlady to me, --for I heard the death-watch all night long; ----and when he dies, the youth, his son, will certainly die with him, for he is broken-hearted already. I was hearing this account, continued the corporal, when the youth came into the kitchen, to order the thin toast the landlord spoke of; ----but I will do it for my father myself, said the youth. ----Pray let me save you the trouble, young gentleman, said I, taking up a fork for the purpose, and offering him my chair to sit down upon by the fire, whilst I did it. ----I believe, Sir, said he, very modestly, I can please him best myself. ----I am sure, said I, his honour will not like the toast the worse for being toasted by an old soldier. ----The youth took hold of my hand, and instantly burst into tears. ----Poor youth! said my uncle _Toby_, --he has been bred up from an infant in the army, and the name of a soldier, _Trim_, sounded in his ears like the name of a friend; --I wish I had him here. ----I never, in the longest march, said the corporal, had so great a mind to my dinner, as I had to cry with him for company: --What could be the matter with me, an' please your honour? Nothing in the world, _Trim_, said my uncle _Toby_, blowing his nose, --but that thou art a good-natured fellow. When I gave him the toast, continued the corporal, I thought it was proper to tell him I was captain _Shandy's_ servant, and that your honour (though a stranger) was extremely concerned for his father; --and that if there was any thing in your house or cellar----(And thou might'st have added my purse too, said my uncle _Toby_)----he was heartily welcome to it: ----He made a very low bow (which was meant to your honour), but no answer--for his heart was full--so he went up stairs with the toast; --I warrant you, my dear, said I, as I opened the kitchen-door, your father will be well again. ----Mr. _Yorick's_ curate was smoaking a pipe by the kitchen fire, --but said not a word good or bad to comfort the youth. ----I thought it wrong; added the corporal ----I think so too, said my uncle _Toby_. When the lieutenant had taken his glass of sack and toast, he felt himself a little revived, and sent down into the kitchen, to let me know, that in about ten minutes he should be glad if I would step up stairs. ----I believe, said the landlord, he is going to say his prayers, ----for there was a book laid upon the chair by his bed-side, and as I shut the door, I saw his son take up a cushion.---- I thought, said the curate, that you gentlemen of the army, Mr. _Trim_, never said your prayers at all. ----I heard the poor gentleman say his prayers last night, said the landlady, very devoutly, and with my own ears, or I could not have believed it. ----Are you sure of it? replied the curate. ----A soldier, an' please your reverence, said I, prays as often (of his own accord) as a parson; ----and when he is fighting for his king, and for his own life, and for his honour too, he has the most reason to pray to God of any one in the whole world----'Twas well said of thee, _Trim_, said my uncle _Toby_. ----But when a soldier, said I, an' please your reverence, has been standing for twelve hours together in the trenches, up to his knees in cold water, --or engaged, said I, for months together in long and dangerous marches; --harassed, perhaps, in his rear to-day; --harassing others to-morrow; --detached here; --countermanded there; --resting this night out upon his arms; --beat up in his shirt the next; --benumbed in his joints; --perhaps without straw in his tent to kneel on; --must say his prayers _how_ and _when_ he can. --I believe, said I, --for I was piqued, quoth the corporal, for the reputation of the army, --I believe, an' please your reverence, said I, that when a soldier gets time to pray, --he prays as heartily as a parson, --though not with all his fuss and hypocrisy. ----Thou shouldst not have said that, _Trim_, said my uncle _Toby_, --for God only knows who is a hypocrite, and who is not: ----At the great and general review of us all, corporal, at the day of judgment (and not till then)--it will be seen who has done their duties in this world, --and who has not; and we shall be advanced, _Trim_, accordingly. ----I hope we shall, said _Trim_. ----It is in the Scripture, said my uncle _Toby_; and I will shew it thee to-morrow: --In the mean time we may depend upon it, _Trim_, for our comfort, said my uncle _Toby_, that God Almighty is so good and just a governor of the world, that if we have but done our duties in it, --it will never be enquired into, whether we have done them in a red coat or a black one: ----I hope not, said the corporal ----But go on, _Trim_, said my uncle _Toby_, with thy story. When I went up, continued the corporal, into the lieutenant's room, which I did not do till the expiration of the ten minutes, --he was lying in his bed with his head raised upon his hand, with his elbow upon the pillow, and a clean white cambrick handkerchief beside it: ----The youth was just stooping down to take up the cushion, upon which I supposed he had been kneeling, --the book was laid upon the bed, --and, as he rose, in taking up the cushion with one hand, he reached out his other to take it away at the same time. ----Let it remain there, my dear, said the lieutenant. He did not offer to speak to me, till I had walked up close to his bed-side: --If you are captain _Shandy's_ servant, said he, you must present my thanks to your master, with my little boy's thanks along with them, for his courtesy to me; --if he was of _Leven's_--said the lieutenant. --I told him your honour was --Then, said he, I served three campaigns with him in _Flanders_, and remember him, --but 'tis most likely, as I had not the honour of any acquaintance with him, that he knows nothing of me. ----You will tell him, however, that the person his good-nature has laid under obligations to him, is one _Le Fever_, a lieutenant in _Angus's_----but he knows me not, --said he, a second time, musing; ----possibly he may my story--added he--pray tell the captain, I was the ensign at _Breda_, whose wife was most unfortunately killed with a musket-shot, as she lay in my arms in my tent. ----I remember the story, an't please your honour, said I, very well. ----Do you so? said he, wiping his eyes with his handkerchief, --then well may I. --In saying this, he drew a little ring out of his bosom, which seemed tied with a black ribband about his neck, and kiss'd it twice ----Here, _Billy_, said he, ----the boy flew across the room to the bed-side, --and falling down upon his knee, took the ring in his hand, and kissed it too, --then kissed his father, and sat down upon the bed and wept. I wish, said my uncle _Toby_, with a deep sigh, --I wish, _Trim_, I was asleep. Your honour, replied the corporal, is too much concerned; --shall I pour your honour out a glass of sack to your pipe? ----Do, _Trim_, said my uncle _Toby_. I remember, said my uncle _Toby_, sighing again, the story of the ensign and his wife, with a circumstance his modesty omitted; --and particularly well that he, as well as she, upon some account or other (I forget what) was universally pitied by the whole regiment; --but finish the story thou art upon: --'Tis finished already, said the corporal, --for I could stay no longer, --so wished his honour a good night; young _Le Fever_ rose from off the bed, and saw me to the bottom of the stairs; and as we went down together, told me, they had come from _Ireland_, and were on their route to join the regiment in _Flanders_. ----But alas! said the corporal, --the lieutenant's last day's march is over. --Then what is to become of his poor boy? cried my uncle _Toby_.

It was not till my uncle Toby had knocked the ashes out of his third pipe, that corporal Trim returned from the inn, and gave him this account. 'I despaired, at first,' said the corporal, 'of getting any news of the poor sick lieutenant.' 'He is in the army, then?' said my uncle Toby. 'In what regiment?' 'I'll tell your honour everything as I learnt it,' replied the corporal. 'Then, Trim, I'll fill another pipe,' said my uncle Toby, 'and not interrupt thee; so sit down in the window-seat, Trim, and begin thy story again.' The corporal bowed, sat down, and began again. 'I despaired at first,' said he, 'of getting any news of the lieutenant and his son; for when I asked where his servant was, from whom I could make enquiries, I was told that he had no servant with him; that he had come to the inn with hired horses. '"If I get better, my dear," said he, giving his purse to his son to pay the man, "we can hire horses again." '"But alas! the poor gentleman will never leave here," said the landlady to me, "for I heard the death-watch all night long; and when he dies, his son will certainly die too, for he is broken-hearted." 'I was hearing this account,' continued the corporal, 'when the youth came into the kitchen, to order thin toast for his father - "but I will make it myself," said the youth. '"Pray let me save you the trouble," said I. '"I believe, Sir," said he, very modestly, "I can please him best myself." '"I am sure," said I, "he will not like the toast the worse for being toasted by an old soldier." The youth took hold of my hand, and burst into tears.' 'Poor boy!' said my uncle Toby. 'The name of a soldier, Trim, sounded like the name of a friend; I wish I had him here.' 'I was near weeping myself,' continued the corporal. 'When I gave him the toast, I thought it was proper to tell him I was captain Shandy's servant, and that your honour (though a stranger) was extremely concerned for his father; and that if there was any food or drink we could provide, he was heartily welcome to it. He made a low bow and went up stairs with the toast. '"I warrant you, my dear," said I, "your father will be well again." Mr. Yorick's curate was smoking a pipe by the kitchen fire, but said not a word to comfort the youth. - I thought it wrong.' 'I think so too,' said my uncle Toby. 'When the lieutenant had taken his sherry and toast, he revived a little, and sent word to the kitchen that he should be glad if I would step upstairs in ten minutes. '"I believe," said the landlord, "he is going to say his prayers - for there was a book by his bed-side, and as I shut the door, I saw his son take up a cushion." '"I thought," said the curate, "that you gentlemen of the army, Mr. Trim, never said your prayers at all." '"I heard the poor gentleman say his prayers last night," said the landlady, "very devoutly." '"Are you sure?" said the curate. '"A soldier, an' please your reverence," said I, "prays as often as a parson; and when he is fighting for his king, and for his own life and his honour too, he has the most reason to pray to God of anyone in the world."' ''Twas well said, Trim," said my uncle Toby. '"But when a soldier," said I, "has been standing for twelve hours in the trenches, up to his knees in cold water, - or engaged for months in long and dangerous marches; resting one night upon his arms, and roused the next in his shirt: harassed and benumbed, with no straw to kneel on - he must say his prayers how and when he can. I believe," said I, for I was annoyed, "I believe, your reverence, that when a soldier gets time, he prays as heartily as a parson, though not with all his fuss and hypocrisy."' 'Thou shouldst not have said that, Trim,' said my uncle Toby, 'for God only knows who is a hypocrite: at the day of judgment it will be seen who has done their duties, and who has not. - But we may depend upon it, Trim, that God is so just, that if we have done our duties, it will never be asked whether we have done them in a red coat or a black one. - But go on with thy story.' 'When I went up,' continued the corporal, 'into the lieutenant's room, he was lying in his bed: the youth was just taking up the cushion, upon which I supposed he had been kneeling. 'When I walked up to his bed-side, the lieutenant said to me: "If you are captain Shandy's servant, present my thanks to your master, with my little boy's thanks too. If he was of Leven's regiment" - I told him your honour was - "Then," said he, "I served three campaigns with him in Flanders, and remember him, but 'tis most likely that he knows nothing of me. My name is Le Fever, a lieutenant in Angus's; possibly he may know my story. Pray tell the captain, I was the ensign at Breda, whose wife was most unfortunately killed with a musket-shot, as she lay in my arms in my tent." '"I remember the story very well," said I. '"Do you?" said he, wiping his eyes; and drawing out a little ring tied with a black ribbon about his neck, he kissed it twice. '"Here, Billy," said he. The boy flew across the room to the bed-side, and falling on his knee, took the ring in his hand, kissed his father, and then sat down upon the bed and wept.' 'I remember,' said my uncle Toby, sighing deeply, 'the story of the ensign and his wife, with a circumstance his modesty omitted; and particularly well because he, as well as she, upon some account or other (I forget what) was pitied by the whole regiment; but finish thy story.' ''Tis finished already,' said the corporal, 'for I could stay no longer. Young Le Fever saw me to the bottom of the stairs; and as we went down, told me they had come from Ireland, and were on their way to join the regiment in Flanders. But alas! the lieutenant's last march is over.' 'Then what is to become of his poor boy?' cried my uncle Toby.

Tristram Shandy

Book 6 - Chapter 7: THE STORY OF LE FEVER CONTINUED

The article in my mother's marriage-settlement, which I told the reader I was at the pains to search for, and which, now that I have found it, I think proper to lay before him, --is so much more fully express'd in the deed itself, than ever I can pretend to do it, that it would be barbarity to take it out of the lawyer's hand: --It is as follows. "#And this Indenture further witnesseth#, That the said _Walter Shandy_, merchant, in consideration of the said intended marriage to be had, and, by God's blessing, to be well and truly solemnised and consummated between the said _Walter Shandy_ and _Elizabeth Mollineux_ aforesaid, and divers other good and valuable causes and considerations him thereunto specially moving, --doth grant, covenant, condescend, consent, conclude, bargain, and fully agree to and with _John Dixon_, and _James Turner_, Esqrs. the above-named Trustees, _&c. &c._--#to Wit#, --That in case it should hereafter so fall out, chance, happen, or otherwise come to pass, --That the said _Walter Shandy_, merchant, shall have left off business before the time or times, that the said _Elizabeth Mollineux_ shall, according to the course of nature, or otherwise, have left off bearing and bringing forth children; --and that, in consequence of the said _Walter Shandy_ having so left off business, he shall in despight, and against the free-will, consent, and good-liking of the said _Elizabeth Mollineux_, --make a departure from the city of _London_, in order to retire to, and dwell upon, his estate at _Shandy Hall_, in the county of ----, or at any other country-seat, castle, hall, mansion-house, messuage or grainge-house, now purchased, or hereafter to be purchased, or upon any part or parcel thereof: --That then, and as often as the said _Elizabeth Mollineux_ shall happen to be enceint with child or children severally and lawfully begot, or to be begotten, upon the body of the said _Elizabeth Mollineux_, during her said coverture, --he the said _Walter Shandy_ shall, at his own proper cost and charges, and out of his own proper monies, upon good and reasonable notice, which is hereby agreed to be within six weeks of her the said _Elizabeth Mollineux's_ full reckoning, or time of supposed and computed delivery, --pay, or cause to be paid, the sum of one hundred and twenty pounds of good and lawful money, to _John Dixon_, and _James Turner_, Esqrs. or assigns, --upon TRUST and confidence, and for and unto the use and uses, intent, end, and purpose following: --#That is to say#, --That the said sum of one hundred and twenty pounds shall be paid into the hands of the said _Elizabeth Mollineux_, or to be otherwise applied by them the said Trustees, for the well and truly hiring of one coach, with able and sufficient horses, to carry and convey the body of the said _Elizabeth Mollineux_, and the child or children which she shall be then and there enceint and pregnant with, --unto the city of _London_; and for the further paying and defraying of all other incidental costs, charges, and expences whatsoever, --in and about, and for, and relating to, her said intended delivery and lying-in, in the said city or suburbs thereof. And that the said _Elizabeth Mollineux_ shall and may, from time to time, and at all such time and times as are here covenanted and agreed upon, --peaceably and quietly hire the said coach and horses, and have free ingress, egress, and regress throughout her journey, in and from the said coach, according to the tenor, true intent, and meaning of these presents, without any let, suit, trouble, disturbance, molestation, discharge, hindrance, forfeiture, eviction, vexation, interruption, or incumbrance whatsoever. --And that it shall moreover be lawful to and for the said _Elizabeth Mollineux_, from time to time, and as oft or often as she shall well and truly be advanced in her said pregnancy, to the time heretofore stipulated and agreed upon, --to live and reside in such place or places, and in such family or families, and with such relations, friends, and other persons within the said city of _London_, as she at her own will and pleasure, notwithstanding her present coverture, and as if she was a _femme sole_ and unmarried, --shall think fit. --#And this Indenture further Witnesseth#, That for the more effectually carrying of the said covenant into execution, the said _Walter Shandy_, merchant, doth hereby grant, bargain, sell, release, and confirm unto the said _John Dixon_, and _James Turner_, Esqrs. their heirs, executors, and assigns, in their actual possession now being, by virtue of an indenture of bargain and sale for a year to them the said _John Dickson_, and _James Turner_, Esqrs. by him the said _Walter Shandy_, merchant, thereof made; which said bargain and sale for a year, bears date the day next before the date of these presents, and by force and virtue of the statute for transferring of uses into possession, --#All# that the manor and lordship of _Shandy_, in the county of ----, with all the rights, members, and appurtenances thereof; and all and every the messuages, houses, buildings, barns, stables, orchards, gardens, backsides, tofts, crofts, garths, cottages, lands, meadows, feedings, pastures, marshes, commons, woods, underwoods, drains, fisheries, waters, and water-courses; --together with all rents, reversions, services, annuities, fee-farms, knights fees, views of frankpledge, escheats, reliefs, mines, quarries, goods and chattels of felons and fugitives, felons of themselves, and put in exigent, deodands, free warrens, and all other royalties and seigniories, rights and jurisdictions, privileges and hereditaments whatsoever. ----#And also# the advowson, donation, presentation, and free disposition of the rectory or parsonage of _Shandy_ aforesaid, and all and every the tenths, tythes, glebe-lands." ----In three words, ----"My mother was to lay in, (if she chose it) in _London_." But in order to put a stop to the practice of any unfair play on the part of my mother, which a marriage-article of this nature too manifestly opened a door to, and which indeed had never been thought of at all, but for my uncle _Toby Shandy_; --a clause was added in security of my father, which was this: --"That in case my mother hereafter should, at any time, put my father to the trouble and expence of a _London_ journey, upon false cries and tokens; ----that for every such instance, she should forfeit all the right and title which the covenant gave her to the next turn; ----but to no more, --and so on, _toties quoties_, in as effectual a manner, as if such a covenant betwixt them had not been made." --This, by the way, was no more than what was reasonable; --and yet, as reasonable as it was, I have ever thought it hard that the whole weight of the article should have fallen entirely, as it did, upon myself. But I was begot and born to misfortunes: --for my poor mother, whether it was wind or water--or a compound of both, --or neither; --or whether it was simply the mere swell of imagination and fancy in her; --or how far a strong wish and desire to have it so, might mislead her judgment: --in short, whether she was deceived or deceiving in this matter, it no way becomes me to decide. The fact was this, That in the latter end of _September_ 1717, which was the year before I was born, my mother having carried my father up to town much against the grain, --he peremptorily insisted upon the clause; --so that I was doom'd, by marriage-articles, to have my nose squeez'd as flat to my face, as if the destinies had actually spun me without one. How this event came about, --and what a train of vexatious disappointments, in one stage or other of my life, have pursued me from the mere loss, or rather compression, of this one single member, --shall be laid before the reader all in due time.

The article in my mother's marriage-settlement, which I told the reader I was at pains to search for, is so much more fully expressed than I could do it, that it would be barbarity to paraphrase it. - It is as follows. 'And this Indenture further witnesseth, That the said Walter Shandy, merchant, in consideration of the said intended marriage to be had, and to be well and truly solemnised and consummated between the said Walter Shandy and Elizabeth Mollineux aforesaid, doth grant, covenant, condescend, consent, conclude, bargain, and fully agree to and with John Dixon, and James Turner, Esqrs. the above-named Trustees. - To Wit, That in case it should hereafter so fall out, chance, happen, or otherwise come to pass, That the said Walter Shandy, merchant, shall have left off business before the time that the said Elizabeth Mollineux shall, according to the course of nature, have left off bearing and bringing forth children; and that, in consequence of the said Walter Shandy having so left off business, he shall in despite and against the free-will, consent, and agreement of the said Elizabeth Mollineux, make a departure from the city of London, in order to retire to, and dwell upon, his estate at Shandy Hall, or at any other country-seat, castle, hall, mansion or grange-house, now purchased, or hereafter to be purchased, or upon any part or parcel thereof: That then, and as often as the said Elizabeth Mollineux shall happen to be enceint or pregnant with child or children lawfully begot, or to be begotten, upon the body of the said Elizabeth Mollineux, during her said pregnancy, he the said Walter Shandy shall, at his own proper cost and charges, upon good and reasonable notice, which is hereby agreed to be within six weeks of the said Elizabeth Mollineux's full reckoning, or time of supposed delivery, - pay, or cause to be paid, the sum of one hundred and twenty pounds for and unto the use and uses, intent, end, and purpose following: That is to say, That the said sum of one hundred and twenty pounds shall be paid into the hands of the said Elizabeth Mollineux, for the well and truly hiring of one coach, to carry and convey the body of the said Elizabeth Mollineux, and the child or children with which she shall then be pregnant, unto the city of London; and for the further paying and defraying of all other incidental costs, charges, and expenses, in and about, and for and relating to, her said intended delivery and lying-in, in the said city or suburbs thereof. And that the said Elizabeth Mollineux shall and may hire the said coach and horses, and have free ingress, egress, and regress throughout her journey, in and from the said coach, without any let, suit, trouble, disturbance, molestation, discharge, hindrance, forfeiture, eviction, vexation, interruption, or incumbrance whatsoever. And that it shall moreover be lawful for the said Elizabeth Mollineux, when she shall well and truly be advanced in her said pregnancy, to live and reside in such place or places, and with such relations, friends, and other persons within the said city of London, as she at her own will and pleasure shall think fit.' In three words, 'My mother was to lay in, (if she chose) in London.' But in order to put a stop to any unfair play on my mother's part, which a marriage-article of this nature opened a door to - and which indeed would not have been thought of, but for my uncle Toby Shandy - the following clause was added: 'That in case my mother should, at any time, put my father to the trouble and expense of a London journey, upon false cries and tokens; - for every such instance, she should forfeit all the rights which the covenant gave her on the next such occasion.' This was only reasonable; - and yet, I have always thought it hard that the whole weight of the article should have fallen entirely, as it did, upon myself. But I was born to misfortunes: for my poor mother, whether it was wind or water, or simply the swell of imagination in her; - or how far a strong desire to be with child might mislead her judgment: - in short, whether she was deceived or deceiving in this matter, is not for me to decide. The fact was this: that in late September 1717, the year before I was born, my mother carried my father up to town much against the grain: when no child appeared, he insisted upon the extra clause; so that I was doomed, by marriage-articles, to have my nose squeezed flat to my face. How this event came about, and what a train of disappointments has pursued me through my life from the compression of this single member, - shall be laid before the reader all in due time.

Tristram Shandy

Book 1 - Chapter 15

When _Trim_ came in and told my father, that Dr. _Slop_ was in the kitchen, and busy in making a bridge--my uncle _Toby_----the affair of the jack-boots having just then raised a train of military ideas in his brain----took it instantly for granted that Dr. _Slop_ was making a model of the marquis _d'Hpital's_ 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. Had my uncle _Toby's_ head been a _Savoyard's_ box, and my father peeping in all the time at one end of it----it could not have given him a more distinct conception of the operations of my uncle _Toby's_ imagination, than what he had; so, notwithstanding the catapulta and battering-ram, and his bitter imprecation about them, he was just beginning to triumph---- When _Trim's_ answer, in an instant, tore the laurel from his brows, and twisted it to pieces.

When Trim came in and told my father that Dr. Slop was in the kitchen, busy making a bridge, my uncle Toby took it instantly for granted that Dr. Slop was making a model of the marquis d'Hpital's bridge. ''Tis very obliging in him,' quoth he; 'pray tell him I thank him heartily.' Had my uncle Toby's head been a Savoyard's peep-show box, with my father peeping in at one end - it could not have given him a clearer picture of my uncle Toby's imagination; so he was beginning to triumph- When Trim's answer, the next instant, tore the laurel from his brows, and twisted it to pieces.

Tristram Shandy

Book 3 - Chapter 26

----"Because," quoth my great-grandmother, repeating the words again-- "you have little or no nose, Sir."------ S'death! cried my great-grandfather, clapping his hand upon his nose, --'tis not so small as that comes to; ----'tis a full inch longer than my father's. --Now, my great-grandfather's nose was for all the world like unto the noses of all the men, women, and children, whom _Pantagruel_ found dwelling upon the island of ENNASIN. ------By the way, if you would know the strange way of getting a-kin amongst so flat-nosed a people----you must read the book; ----find it out yourself, you never can.---- --'Twas shaped, Sir, like an ace of clubs. --'Tis a full inch, continued my grandfather, pressing up the ridge of his nose with his finger and thumb; and repeating his assertion----'tis a full inch longer, madam, than my father's ----You must mean your uncle's, replied my great-grandmother. ------My great-grandfather was convinced. --He untwisted the paper, and signed the article.

'Because,' quoth my great-grandmother, 'you have little or no nose, Sir.' 'S'death!' cried my great-grandfather, clapping his hand upon his nose, ''tis not so small as that; 'tis a full inch longer than my father's.' Now, my great-grandfather's nose was like the noses of the people whom Pantagruel found dwelling upon the island of Ennasin. 'Twas shaped, Sir, like an ace of clubs. ''Tis a full inch longer than my father's,' continued my grandfather, pressing up the ridge of his nose with his finger. 'You must mean your uncle's,' replied my great-grandmother. My great-grandfather was convinced. - He untwisted the paper, and signed the article.

Tristram Shandy

Book 3 - Chapter 32

As many pictures as have been given of my father, how like him soever in different airs and attitudes, --not one, or all of them, can ever help the reader to any kind of preconception of how my father would think, speak, or act, upon any untried occasion or occurrence of life. --There was that infinitude of oddities in him, and of chances along with it, by which handle he would take a thing, --it baffled, Sir, all calculations. ----The truth was, his road lay so very far on one side, from that wherein most men travelled, --that every object before him presented a face and section of itself to his eye, altogether different from the plan and elevation of it seen by the rest of mankind. --In other words, 'twas a different object, and in course was differently considered: This is the true reason, that my dear _Jenny_ and I, as well as all the world besides us, have such eternal squabbles about nothing. --She looks at her outside, --I, at her in--. How is it possible we should agree about her value?

Although many pictures have been given of my father, in different airs and attitudes, not one of them could help the reader to predict how my father would think, speak, or act, upon any occasion. He had such an infinitude of oddities in him, that to know how he would take a thing, baffled, Sir, all calculations. The truth was, that every object presented its face and cross-section to his eye, altogether different from the plan of it seen by the rest of mankind. This is the true reason that my dear Jenny and I have such eternal squabbles about nothing. She looks at her outside, I, at her in. - How is it possible we should agree about her value?

Tristram Shandy

Book 5 - Chapter 24

It was a thousand pities----though I believe, an' please your honour, I am going to say but a foolish kind of a thing for a soldier---- A soldier, cried my uncle _Toby_, interrupting the corporal, is no more exempt from saying a foolish thing, _Trim_, than a man of letters ----But not so often, an' please your honour, replied the corporal ----My uncle _Toby_ gave a nod. It was a thousand pities then, said the corporal, casting his eye upon _Dunkirk_, and the mole, as _Servius Sulpicius_, in returning out of _Asia_ (when he sailed from _gina_ towards _Megara_), did upon _Corinth_ and _Pyreus_---- --"It was a thousand pities, an' please your honour, to destroy these works----and a thousand pities to have let them stood."---- ----Thou art right, _Trim_, in both cases; said my uncle _Toby_. ----This, continued the corporal, is the reason, that from the beginning of their demolition to the end ----I have never once whistled, or sung, or laugh'd, or cry'd, or talk'd of past done deeds, or told your honour one story good or bad---- ----Thou hast many excellencies, _Trim_, said my uncle _Toby_, and I hold it not the least of them, as thou happenest to be a story-teller, that of the number thou hast told me, either to amuse me in my painful hours, or divert me in my grave ones--thou hast seldom told me a bad one---- ----Because, an' please your honour, except one of a _King of Bohemia and his seven castles_, --they are all true; for they are about myself---- I do not like the subject the worse, _Trim_, said my uncle _Toby_, on that score: But prithee what is this story? thou hast excited my curiosity. I'll tell it your honour, quoth the corporal, directly --Provided, said my uncle _Toby_, looking earnestly towards _Dunkirk_ and the mole again----provided it is not a merry one; to such, _Trim_, a man should ever bring one half of the entertainment along with him; and the disposition I am in at present would wrong both thee, _Trim_, and thy story ----It is not a merry one by any means, replied the corporal --Nor would I have it altogether a grave one, added my uncle _Toby_ ----It is neither the one nor the other, replied the corporal, but will suit your honour exactly ----Then I'll thank thee for it with all my heart, cried my uncle _Toby_; so prithee begin it, _Trim_. The corporal made his reverence; and though it is not so easy a matter as the world imagines, to pull off a lank _Montero_-cap with grace----or a whit less difficult, in my conceptions, when a man is sitting squat upon the ground, to make a bow so teeming with respect as the corporal was wont; yet by suffering the palm of his right hand, which was towards his master, to slip backwards upon the grass, a little beyond his body, in order to allow it the greater sweep----and by an unforced compression, at the same time, of his cap with the thumb and the two forefingers of his left, by which the diameter of the cap became reduced, so that it might be said, rather to be insensibly squeez'd--than pull'd off with a flatus----the corporal acquitted himself of both in a better manner than the posture of his affairs promised; and having hemmed twice, to find in what key his story would best go, and best suit his master's humour, --he exchanged a single look of kindness with him, and set off thus. THE STORY OF THE KING OF BOHEMIA AND HIS SEVEN CASTLES There was a certain king of Bo - - he------ As the corporal was entering the confines of _Bohemia_, my uncle _Toby_ obliged him to halt for a single moment; he had set out bare-headed, having, since he pull'd off his _Montero_-cap in the latter end of the last chapter, left it lying beside him on the ground. ----The eye of Goodness espieth all things----so that before the corporal had well got through the first five words of his story, had my uncle _Toby_ twice touch'd his _Montero_-cap with the end of his cane, interrogatively----as much as to say, Why don't you put it on, _Trim?_ _Trim_ took it up with the most respectful slowness, and casting a glance of humiliation as he did it, upon the embroidery of the fore-part, which being dismally tarnish'd and fray'd moreover in some of the principal leaves and boldest parts of the pattern, he lay'd it down again between his two feet, in order to moralise upon the subject. ----'Tis every word of it but too true, cried my uncle _Toby_, that thou art about to observe---- "_Nothing in this world, Trim, is made to last for ever._" ----But when tokens, dear _Tom_, of thy love and remembrance wear out, said _Trim_, what shall we say? There is no occasion, _Trim_, quoth my uncle _Toby_, to say anything else; and was a man to puzzle his brains till Doom's day, I believe, _Trim_, it would be impossible. The corporal, perceiving my uncle _Toby_ was in the right, and that it would be in vain for the wit of man to think of extracting a purer moral from his cap, without further attempting it, he put it on; and passing his hand across his forehead to rub out a pensive wrinkle, which the text and the doctrine between them had engender'd, he return'd, with the same look and tone of voice, to his story of the king of _Bohemia_ and his seven castles. THE STORY OF THE KING OF BOHEMIA AND HIS SEVEN CASTLES, CONTINUED There was a certain king of _Bohemia_, but in whose reign, except his own, I am not able to inform your honour---- I do not desire it of thee, _Trim_, by any means, cried my uncle _Toby_. ----It was a little before the time, an' please your honour, when giants were beginning to leave off breeding: --but in what year of our Lord that was---- I would not give a halfpenny to know, said my uncle _Toby_. ----Only, an' please your honour, it makes a story look the better in the face---- ----'Tis thy own, _Trim_, so ornament it after thy own fashion; and take any date, continued my uncle _Toby_, looking pleasantly upon him--take any date in the whole world thou chusest, and put it to--thou art heartily welcome---- The corporal bowed; for of every century, and of every year of that century, from the first creation of the world down to _Noah's_ flood; and from _Noah's_ flood to the birth of _Abraham_; through all the pilgrimages of the patriarchs, to the departure of the _Israelites_ out of _Egypt_----and throughout all the Dynasties, Olympiads, Urbeconditas, and other memorable epochas of the different nations of the world, down to the coming of Christ, and from thence to the very moment in which the corporal was telling his story----had my uncle _Toby_ subjected this vast empire of time and all its abysses at his feet; but as MODESTY scarce touches with a finger what LIBERALITY offers her with both hands open--the corporal contented himself with the very _worst year_ of the whole bunch; which, to prevent your honours of the Majority and Minority from tearing the very flesh off your bones in contestation, 'Whether that year is not always the last cast-year of the last cast-almanack' ----I tell you plainly it was; but from a different reason than you wot of---- ----It was the year next him----which being, the year of our Lord seventeen hundred and twelve, when the Duke of _Ormond_ was playing the devil in _Flanders_----the corporal took it, and set out with it afresh on his expedition to _Bohemia_. THE STORY OF THE KING OF BOHEMIA AND HIS SEVEN CASTLES, CONTINUED In the year of our Lord one thousand seven hundred and twelve, there was, an' please your honour---- ----To tell thee truly, _Trim_, quoth my uncle _Toby_, any other date would have pleased me much better, not only on account of the sad stain upon our history that year, in marching off our troops, and refusing to cover the siege of _Quesnoi_, though _Fagel_ was carrying on the works with such incredible vigour--but likewise on the score, _Trim_, of thy own story; because if there are--and which, from what thou hast dropt, I partly suspect to be the fact--if there are giants in it---- There is but one, an' please your honour---- ----'Tis as bad as twenty, replied my uncle _Toby_----thou should'st have carried him back some seven or eight hundred years out of harm's way, both of critics and other people: and therefore I would advise thee, if ever thou tellest it again---- ----If I live, an' please your honour, but once to get through it, I will never tell it again, quoth _Trim_, either to man, woman, or child ----Poo--poo! said my uncle _Toby_--but with accents of such sweet encouragement did he utter it, that the corporal went on with his story with more alacrity than ever. THE STORY OF THE KING OF BOHEMIA AND HIS SEVEN CASTLES, CONTINUED There was, an' please your honour, said the corporal, raising his voice and rubbing the palms of his two hands cheerily together as he begun, a certain king of _Bohemia_---- ----Leave out the date entirely, _Trim_, quoth my uncle _Toby_, leaning forwards, and laying his hand gently upon the corporal's shoulder to temper the interruption--leave it out entirely, _Trim_; a story passes very well without these niceties, unless one is pretty sure of 'em ----Sure of 'em! said the corporal, shaking his head---- Right; answered my uncle _Toby_, it is not easy, _Trim_, for one, bred up as thou and I have been to arms, who seldom looks further forward than to the end of his musket, or backwards beyond his knapsack, to know much about this matter ----God bless your honour! said the corporal, won by the _manner_ of my uncle _Toby's_ reasoning, as much as by the reasoning itself, he has something else to do; if not on action, or a march, or upon duty in his garrison--he has his firelock, an' please your honour, to furbish--his accoutrements to take care of--his regimentals to mend--himself to shave and keep clean, so as to appear always like what he is upon the parade; what business, added the corporal triumphantly, has a soldier, an' please your honour, to know anything at all of _geography?_ ----Thou would'st have said _chronology_, _Trim_, said my uncle _Toby_; for as for geography, 'tis of absolute use to him; he must be acquainted intimately with every country and its boundaries where his profession carries him; he should know every town and city, and village and hamlet, with the canals, the roads, and hollow ways which lead up to them; there is not a river or a rivulet he passes, _Trim_, but he should be able at first sight to tell thee what is its name--in what mountains it takes its rise--what is its course--how far it is navigable--where fordable--where not; he should know the fertility of every valley, as well as the hind who ploughs it; and be able to describe, or, if it is required, to give thee an exact map of all the plains and defiles, the forts, the acclivities, the woods and morasses, thro' and by which his army is to march; he should know their produce, their plants, their minerals, their waters, their animals, their seasons, their climates, their heats and cold, their inhabitants, their customs, their language, their policy, and even their religion. Is it else to be conceived, corporal, continued my uncle _Toby_, rising up in his sentry-box, as he began to warm in this part of his discourse--how _Marlborough_ could have marched his army from the banks of the _Maes_ to _Belburg_; from _Belburg_ to _Kerpenord_--(here the corporal could sit no longer) from _Kerpenord_, _Trim_, to _Kalsaken_; from _Kalsaken_ to _Newdorf_; from _Newdorf_ to _Landenbourg_; from _Landenbourg_ to _Mildenheim_; from _Mildenheim_ to _Elchingen_; from _Elchingen_ to _Gingen_; from _Gingen_ to _Balmerchoffen_; from _Balmerchoffen_ to _Skellenburg_, where he broke in upon the enemy's works; forced his passage over the _Danube_; cross'd the _Lech_--push'd on his troops into the heart of the empire, marching at the head of them through _Fribourg_, _Hokenwert_, and _Schonevelt_, to the plains of _Blenheim_ and _Hochstet?_ ----Great as he was, corporal, he could not have advanced a step, or made one single day's march without the aids of _Geography_. ----As for _Chronology_, I own, _Trim_, continued my uncle _Toby_, sitting down again coolly in his sentry-box, that of all others, it seems a science which the soldier might best spare, was it not for the lights which that science must one day give him, in determining the invention of powder; the furious execution of which, renversing everything like thunder before it, has become a new ra to us of military improvements, changing so totally the nature of attacks and defences both by sea and land, and awakening so much art and skill in doing it, that the world cannot be too exact in ascertaining the precise time of its discovery, or too inquisitive in knowing what great man was the discoverer, and what occasions gave birth to it. I am far from controverting, continued my uncle _Toby_, what historians agree in, that in the year of our Lord 1380, under the reign of _Wencelaus_, son of _Charles_ the Fourth----a certain priest, whose name was _Schwartz_, show'd the use of powder to the _Venetians_, in their wars against the _Genoese_; but 'tis certain he was not the first; because if we are to believe Don _Pedro_, the bishop of _Leon_ --How came priests and bishops, an' please your honour, to trouble their heads so much about gunpowder? God knows, said my uncle _Toby_----his providence brings good out of everything--and he avers, in his chronicle of King _Alphonsus_, who reduced _Toledo_, That in the year 1343, which was full thirty-seven years before that time, the secret of powder was well known, and employed with success, both by Moors and Christians, not only in their sea-combats, at that period, but in many of their most memorable sieges in _Spain_ and _Barbary_ --And all the world knows, that Friar _Bacon_ had wrote expressly about it, and had generously given the world a receipt to make it by, above a hundred and fifty years before even _Schwartz_ was born --And that the _Chinese_, added my uncle _Toby_, embarrass us, and all accounts of it, still more, by boasting of the invention some hundreds of years even before him---- --They are a pack of liars, I believe, cried _Trim_---- ----They are somehow or other deceived, said my uncle _Toby_, in this matter, as is plain to me from the present miserable state of military architecture amongst them; which consists of nothing more than a foss with a brick wall without flanks--and for what they gave us as a bastion at each angle of it, 'tis so barbarously constructed, that it looks for all the world ------------Like one of my seven castles, an' please your honour, quoth _Trim_. My uncle _Toby_, tho' in the utmost distress for a comparison, most courteously refused _Trim's_ offer--till _Trim_ telling him, he had half a dozen more in _Bohemia_, which he knew not how to get off his hands----my uncle _Toby_ was so touch'd with the pleasantry of heart of the corporal----that he discontinued his dissertation upon gunpowder----and begged the corporal forthwith to go on with his story of the King of _Bohemia_ and his seven castles. THE STORY OF THE KING OF BOHEMIA AND HIS SEVEN CASTLES, CONTINUED This _unfortunate_ King of _Bohemia_, said _Trim_, ----Was he unfortunate, then? cried my uncle _Toby_, for he had been so wrapt up in his dissertation upon gunpowder, and other military affairs, that tho' he had desired the corporal to go on, yet the many interruptions he had given, dwelt not so strong upon his fancy as to account for the epithet ----Was he _unfortunate_, then, _Trim?_ said my uncle _Toby_, pathetically ----The corporal, wishing first the _word_ and all its synonimas at the devil, forthwith began to run back in his mind, the principal events in the King of _Bohemia's_ story; from every one of which, it appearing that he was the most fortunate man that ever existed in the world----it put the corporal to a stand: for not caring to retract his epithet----and less to explain it----and least of all, to twist his tale (like men of lore) to serve a system----he looked up in my uncle _Toby's_ face for assistance----but seeing it was the very thing my uncle _Toby_ sat in expectation of himself----after a hum and a haw, he went on------ The King of _Bohemia_, an' please your honour, replied the corporal, was _unfortunate_, as thus ----That taking great pleasure and delight in navigation and all sort of sea affairs----and there _happening_ throughout the whole kingdom of _Bohemia_, to be no seaport town whatever---- How the duce should there--_Trim?_ cried my uncle _Toby_; for _Bohemia_ being totally inland, it could have happen'd no otherwise ----It might, said _Trim_, if it had pleased God---- My uncle _Toby_ never spoke of the being and natural attributes of God, but with diffidence and hesitation---- ----I believe not, replied my uncle _Toby_, after some pause----for being inland, as I said, and having _Silesia_ and _Moravia_ to the east; _Lusatia_ and _Upper Saxony_ to the north; _Franconia_ to the west; _Bavaria_ to the south; _Bohemia_ could not have been propell'd to the sea without ceasing to be _Bohemia_----nor could the sea, on the other hand, have come up to _Bohemia_, without overflowing a great part of _Germany_, and destroying millions of unfortunate inhabitants who could make no defence against it ----Scandalous! cried _Trim_ --Which would bespeak, added my uncle _Toby_, mildly, such a want of compassion in him who is the father of it----that, I think, _Trim_----the thing could have happen'd no way. The corporal made the bow of unfeigned conviction; and went on. Now the King of _Bohemia_ with his queen and courtiers _happening_ one fine summer's evening to walk out ----Aye! there the word _happening_ is right, _Trim_, cried my uncle _Toby_; for the King of _Bohemia_ and his queen might have walk'd out or let it alone: ----'twas a matter of contingency, which might happen, or not, just as chance ordered it. King _William_ was of an opinion, an' please your honour, quoth _Trim_, that everything was predestined for us in this world; insomuch, that he would often say to his soldiers, that "every ball had its billet." He was a great man, said my uncle _Toby_ ----And I believe, continued _Trim_, to this day, that the shot which disabled me at the battle of _Landen_, was pointed at my knee for no other purpose, but to take me out of his service, and place me in your honour's, where I should be taken so much better care of in my old age ----It shall never, _Trim_, be construed otherwise, said my uncle _Toby_. The heart, both of the master and the man, were alike subject to sudden overflowings; ----a short silence ensued. Besides, said the corporal, resuming the discourse--but in a gayer accent----if it had not been for that single shot, I had never, an' please your honour, been in love------ So, thou wast once in love, _Trim!_ said my uncle _Toby_, smiling---- Souse! replied the corporal--over head and ears! an' please your honour. Prithee when? where? --and how came it to pass? ----I never heard one word of it before; quoth my uncle _Toby_: ----I dare say, answered _Trim_, that every drummer and serjeant's son in the regiment knew of it ----It's high time I should----said my uncle _Toby_. Your honour remembers with concern, said the corporal, the total rout and confusion of our camp and army at the affair of _Landen_; every one was left to shift for himself; and if it had not been for the regiments of _Wyndham_, _Lumley_, and _Galway_, which covered the retreat over the bridge of _Neerspeeken_, the king himself could scarce have gained it----he was press'd hard, as your honour knows, on every side of him---- Gallant mortal! cried my uncle _Toby_, caught up with enthusiasm--this moment, now that all is lost, I see him galloping across me, corporal, to the left, to bring up the remains of the English horse along with him to support the right, and tear the laurel from _Luxembourg's_ brows, if yet 'tis possible ----I see him with the knot of his scarfe just shot off, infusing fresh spirits into poor _Galway's_ regiment--riding along the line--then wheeling about, and charging _Conti_ at the head of it ----Brave! brave, by heaven! cried my uncle _Toby_--he deserves a crown ----As richly, as a thief a halter; shouted _Trim_. My uncle _Toby_ knew the corporal's loyalty; --otherwise the comparison was not at all to his mind----it did not altogether strike the corporal's fancy when he had made it----but it could not be recall'd----so he had nothing to do, but proceed. As the number of wounded was prodigious, and no one had time to think of anything but his own safety --Though _Talmash_, said my uncle _Toby_, brought off the foot with great prudence ----But I was left upon the field, said the corporal. Thou wast so; poor fellow! replied my uncle _Toby_ ----So that it was noon the next day, continued the corporal, before I was exchanged, and put into a cart with thirteen or fourteen more, in order to be convey'd to our hospital. There is no part of the body, an' please your honour, where a wound occasions more intolerable anguish than upon the knee---- Except the groin; said my uncle _Toby_. An' please your honour, replied the corporal, the knee, in my opinion, must certainly be the most acute, there being so many tendons and what-d'ye-call-'ems all about it. It is for that reason, quoth my uncle _Toby_, that the groin is infinitely more sensible----there being not only as many tendons and what-d'ye-call-'ems (for I know their names as little as thou dost)----about it----but moreover * * *---- Mrs. _Wadman_, who had been all the time in her arbour--instantly stopp'd her breath--unpinn'd her mob at the chin, and stood up upon one leg---- The dispute was maintained with amicable and equal force betwixt my uncle _Toby_ and _Trim_ for some time; till _Trim_ at length recollecting that he had often cried at his master's sufferings, but never shed a tear at his own--was for giving up the point, which my uncle _Toby_ would not allow----'Tis a proof of nothing, _Trim_, said he, but the generosity of thy temper---- So that whether the pain of a wound in the groin (cteris paribus) is greater than the pain of a wound in the knee----or Whether the pain of a wound in the knee is not greater than the pain of a wound in the groin----are points which to this day remain unsettled.

'It was a thousand pities - though I believe I am going to say a foolish thing for a soldier-' 'A soldier,' cried my uncle Toby, 'is no more exempt from saying a foolish thing than a man of letters.' 'But not so often, your honour,' replied the corporal. '-It was a thousand pities, your honour, to destroy these works - and a thousand pities to have let them stood.' 'Thou art right, Trim,' said my uncle. 'This,' continued the corporal, 'is why during their demolition I have never once whistled, or sung, or laughed, or told your honour one story, good or bad-' 'Thou hast many excellencies, Trim,' said my uncle Toby, 'and of the stories thou hast told me, either to amuse me in my painful hours, or divert me in my grave ones, - thou hast seldom told me a bad one.' 'Because, your honour, except one of a King of Bohemia and his seven castles, they are all true; for they are about myself.' 'I do not like them worse on that score,' said my uncle Toby. 'But prithee what is this story? Tell it - provided it is not a merry one; for I am not in a mood at present to do it justice.' 'It is not merry by any means,' replied the corporal. 'Nor would I have it altogether grave,' added my uncle Toby. 'It is neither one nor the other,' replied the corporal, 'but will suit your honour exactly.' 'I thank thee; prithee begin it, Trim,' cried my uncle Toby. The corporal made his bow; and though it is not easy to pull off a lank Montero-cap with grace - nor to make a bow so teeming with respect when a man is sitting squat upon the ground; yet by allowing the palm of his right hand to slip backwards upon the grass - and with his left hand, squeezing rather than pulling off his cap - the corporal acquitted himself well; and having cleared his throat, he set off thus. THE STORY OF THE KING OF BOHEMIA AND HIS SEVEN CASTLES 'There was a certain king of Bo-' My uncle Toby obliged the corporal to halt, by touching the Montero-cap on the ground with the end of his cane - as much as to say, 'Why don't you put it on, Trim?' Trim took it up with respectful slowness, and casting a humiliated glance upon the embroidery of the front, which was dismally tarnished and frayed, he laid it down again between his two feet, to moralise upon the subject. 'Thou art about to observe,' cried my uncle Toby, '-that nothing in this world is made to last for ever.' 'But when tokens of my dear brother's love and remembrance wear out,' said Trim, 'what shall we say?' 'There is no need to say anything else,' quoth my uncle Toby. The corporal, perceiving that it would be in vain for the wit of man to extract a purer moral from his cap, put it on, and returned to his story. THE STORY OF THE KING OF BOHEMIA AND HIS SEVEN CASTLES, CONTINUED 'There was a certain king of Bohemia, but in whose reign, I am not able to inform your honour-' 'I do not desire it, Trim,' cried my uncle Toby. 'It was a little before the time when giants were beginning to leave off breeding: but in what year that was-' 'I would not give a halfpenny to know,' said my uncle Toby. 'Only, your honour, it makes a story look better-' ''Tis thy own, Trim, so take any date thou choosest, and welcome,' said my uncle Toby pleasantly. The corporal bowed; for of every century, from the first creation of the world down to Noah's flood; and through all the Dynasties, Olympiads, and other memorable epochs of the world, down to the coming of Christ, and from thence to the very moment in which the corporal was telling his story - my uncle Toby laid this vast empire of time and all its abysses at his feet. But as Modesty scarce touches with a finger what Liberality offers her with open hands - the corporal contented himself with the very worst year of the whole bunch. To prevent your honours from tearing the flesh off your bones in argument, I tell you plainly it was the year 1712, when the Duke of Ormond was playing the devil in Flanders. - The corporal took it, and set out with it afresh on his expedition to Bohemia. THE STORY OF THE KING OF BOHEMIA AND HIS SEVEN CASTLES, CONTINUED 'In the year of our Lord 1712, there was, an' please your honour-' 'To tell thee truly, Trim,' quoth my uncle Toby, 'any other date would have pleased me better, not only on account of the sad stain upon our history that year, in marching our troops away from the siege of Quesnoi - but also on the score of thy own story, Trim; because if there are in fact giants in it-' 'Only one, your honour.' ''Tis as bad as twenty,' replied my uncle Toby; 'thou should'st have carried him back some seven or eight hundred years, out of harm's way of critics. Therefore I would advise thee, if ever thou tellest it again-' 'If I but once get through it, I will never tell it again,' quoth Trim. 'Poo, poo!' said my uncle Toby; but with accents of such sweet encouragement that the corporal went on with alacrity. THE STORY OF THE KING OF BOHEMIA AND HIS SEVEN CASTLES, CONTINUED 'There was, an' please your honour,' said the corporal, raising his voice, 'a certain king of Bohemia-' 'Leave out the date entirely, Trim,' quoth my uncle, gently laying his hand upon the corporal's shoulder. 'A story passes very well without these niceties. It is not easy for a soldier like us, Trim, to see further than the end of his musket.' 'God bless your honour!' said the corporal; 'a soldier has something else to do; if not in action, or on a march, or on duty - he has his firelock to furbish - his regimentals to mend - himself to shave and keep clean: what business has a soldier to know anything of geography?' 'Thou shouldst say chronology, Trim,' said my uncle; 'for geography is of great use to him; he must be acquainted intimately with every country; he should know every town and village, its canals, its roads and rivers - how far they are navigable, and where fordable; he should be able to give an exact map of all the plains, forts, woods and swamps through which his army is to march; he should know their produce, their plants, their minerals, their waters, their animals, their seasons, their climates, their inhabitants, their customs, their language, their policy, and even their religion. 'For how else,' continued my uncle Toby, rising up in his sentry-box - 'how else could Marlborough have marched his army from the Maes to Belburg; then to Newdorf and Landenbourg; from thence to Balmerchoffen; and to Skellenburg, where he broke in upon the enemy's works; forced his passage over the Danube; crossed the Lech - pushed on his troops into the heart of the empire, to the plains of Blenheim? Great as he was, he could not have advanced a step, without the aids of Geography. 'As for Chronology, I own, Trim,' continued my uncle Toby, sitting down again, 'that it seems the science which the soldier might best spare, was it not for the invention of gunpowder; which has opened a new era of military improvements, changing so totally the nature of attacks and defences, that the world cannot be too inquisitive in knowing what great man was its discoverer. 'I am far from disputing,' continued my uncle, 'what historians agree, that in the year 1380 a certain priest called Schwartz showed the use of gunpowder to the Venetians, in their wars against the Genoese; but 'tis certain he was not the first; because if we are to believe Don Pedro, the bishop of Leon-' 'How came priests and bishops, your honour, to trouble their heads so much about gunpowder?' 'God knows,' said my uncle Toby; '-He avers, in his chronicle of King Alphonsus, that in 1343 the secret of gunpowder was well known, and used with success, both by Moors and Christians, in their sea-combats, and their most memorable sieges in Spain and Barbary. - And all the world knows that Friar Bacon had wrote about it, a hundred and fifty years before Schwartz was born. - And that the Chinese,' added my uncle, 'embarrass us still more, by boasting of the invention hundreds of years even before him-' 'They are a pack of liars,' cried Trim. 'They are deceived in this matter,' said my uncle Toby, 'as is plain from the present miserable state of military architecture amongst them; which consists of nothing more than a foss with a brick wall without flanks - and with a supposed bastion at each, so barbarously constructed, that it looks for all the world-' 'Like one of my seven castles, your honour,' quoth Trim. My uncle Toby, though needing a comparison, most courteously refused Trim's offer - till Trim telling him he had half a dozen more in Bohemia, which he knew not how to get off his hands - my uncle Toby was so touched with the corporal's kindness that he stopped his speech upon gunpowder, and begged him to go on with his story. THE STORY OF THE KING OF BOHEMIA AND HIS SEVEN CASTLES, CONTINUED 'This unfortunate King of Bohemia-' said Trim. 'Was he unfortunate, then?' cried my uncle Toby. The corporal, wishing the word at the devil, began to run back in his mind the principal events in the King of Bohemia's story; from which it appeared that he was the most fortunate man in the world. It stopped the corporal in his tracks: for not caring to retract the phrase - still less to explain it - and least of all, to twist his tale - he looked in my uncle Toby's face for help, but seeing my uncle Toby awaiting help himself, after a hum and a haw, he went on: 'The King of Bohemia,' said the corporal, 'was unfortunate in this - that taking great pleasure in navigation and all sort of sea affairs - and there happening throughout the whole kingdom of Bohemia to be no seaport town whatever-' 'How the deuce should there be, Trim?' cried my uncle Toby; 'for Bohemia being totally inland, it could have happened no otherwise.' 'There might be,' said Trim, 'if it had pleased God.' My uncle Toby never spoke of God without diffidence. 'I believe not,' he replied, after a pause; 'for having Silesia and Moravia to the east; Lusatia and Upper Saxony to the north; Franconia to the west, and Bavaria to the south, Bohemia could not have been propelled to the sea without ceasing to be Bohemia. Nor could the sea have come up to Bohemia, without overflowing a great part of Germany, and destroying millions of defenceless inhabitants. Which would mean such a lack of compassion in him who caused it - that I think, Trim, the thing could in no way happen.' The corporal made the bow of conviction; and went on. 'Now the King of Bohemia with his queen and courtiers happening one fine summer's evening to walk out-' 'Aye! there the word happening is right, Trim,' cried my uncle Toby; 'for the King of Bohemia and his queen might have walked out or not: - 'twas a matter of chance.' 'King William was of the opinion, your honour,' quoth Trim, 'that everything was predestined for us in this world; so that he would often say to his soldiers, that "every bullet had its billet."' 'He was a great man,' said my uncle Toby. 'And I believe,' continued Trim, 'that the shot which disabled me at the battle of Landen, was pointed at my knee for no other purpose, but to place me in your honour's service, where I should be taken so much better care of in my old age.' 'So I believe too, Trim,' said my uncle Toby. Both hearts were full of sudden overflowings; a short silence ensued. 'Besides,' resumed the corporal more cheerfully, 'if it had not been for that single shot, I would never have been in love.' 'So, thou wast once in love, Trim!' said my uncle Toby, smiling. 'Head over heels! your honour.' 'Prithee when? where? - and how came it to pass? I never heard one word of it before,' quoth my uncle. 'I dare say,' answered Trim, 'that every drummer in the regiment knew of it.' 'Then it's high time I did,' said my uncle Toby. 'Your honour remembers the total rout and confusion of our army at Landen; everyone was left to shift for himself; and if it had not been for the regiments of Wyndham, Lumley, and Galway, which covered the retreat, the king himself could scarce have gained it - he was pressed hard, as your honour knows-' 'Gallant mortal!' cried my uncle Toby, with enthusiasm - 'I see him galloping to bring up the remains of the English cavalry, and tear the laurel from Luxembourg's brows - I see him riding along the line - then wheeling about, and charging Conti at the head of it - Brave! brave, by heaven! He deserves a crown.' 'As richly, as a thief a halter,' shouted Trim. My uncle Toby knew the corporal's loyalty; - otherwise the comparison was not at all to his liking. The corporal regretted it, but it could not be recalled; so he went on. 'As the number of wounded was prodigious, and no one had time to think of anything but his own safety, I was left upon the field. It was noon the next day before I was put into a cart with thirteen or fourteen more, to be taken to hospital. There is no part of the body, your honour, where a wound causes more intolerable anguish than upon the knee-' 'Except the groin,' said my uncle Toby. 'An' please your honour,' replied the corporal, 'the knee, in my opinion, must certainly be the most acute, there being so many tendons and what-d'ye-call-'ems all around it.' 'It is for that reason,' quoth my uncle Toby, 'that the groin is infinitely more sensitive - there being not only tendons and what-d'ye-call-'ems - but moreover * * *.' Mrs. Wadman, who had been all this time in her arbour, instantly held her breath - unpinned her mob-cap, and stood upon one leg. The dispute went on with amicable and equal force betwixt my uncle Toby and Trim; till Trim at length recollecting that he had often cried at his master's sufferings, but never shed a tear at his own, was willing to give up the point, which my uncle Toby would not allow. ''Tis proof of nothing, Trim,' said he, 'but thy generosity.' So whether the pain of a wound in the groin is greater than the pain of a wound in the knee - or vice versa - to this day remains unsettled.

Tristram Shandy

Book 8 - Chapter 19

Le Fever got up to the Imperial army just time enough to try what metal his sword was made of, at the defeat of the _Turks_ before _Belgrade_; but a series of unmerited mischances had pursued him from that moment, and trod close upon his heels for four years together after; he had withstood these buffetings to the last, till sickness overtook him at _Marseilles_, from whence he wrote my uncle _Toby_ word, he had lost his time, his services, his health, and, in short, everything but his sword; ----and was waiting for the first ship to return back to him. As this letter came to hand about six weeks before _Susannah's_ accident, _Le Fever_ was hourly expected; and was uppermost in my uncle _Toby's_ mind all the time my father was giving him and _Yorick_ a description of what kind of a person he would chuse for a preceptor to me: but as my uncle _Toby_ thought my father at first somewhat fanciful in the accomplishments he required, he forebore mentioning _Le Fever's_ name, ----till the character, by _Yorick's_ interposition, ending unexpectedly, in one, who should be gentle-tempered, and generous, and good, it impressed the image of _Le Fever_, and his interest, upon my uncle _Toby_ so forcibly, he rose instantly off his chair; and laying down his pipe, in order to take hold of both my father's hands ----I beg, brother _Shandy_, said my uncle _Toby_, I may recommend poor _Le Fever's_ son to you ----I beseech you do, added _Yorick_ ----He has a good heart, said my uncle _Toby_ ----And a brave one too, an' please your honour, said the corporal. ----The best hearts, _Trim_, are ever the bravest, replied my uncle _Toby_. ----And the greatest cowards, an' please your honour, in our regiment, were the greatest rascals in it. ----There was serjeant _Kumber_, and ensign------ ----We'll talk of them, said my father, another time.

Le Fever reached the Imperial army in time to try his sword at the defeat of the Turks before Belgrade; but a series of undeserved accidents pursued him from that moment for four years after; he withstood these buffetings, till sickness overtook him at Marseilles. From thence he wrote to my uncle Toby that he had lost his time, his services, his health, and, in short, everything but his sword; and was waiting for the first ship to return to him. As this letter arrived about six weeks before Susannah's accident, Le Fever was hourly expected; and was uppermost in my uncle Toby's mind while my father was describing the person he would choose as a tutor for me. However, as my uncle Toby thought my father somewhat fanciful in the accomplishments he required, he did not mention Le Fever's name till Yorick suggested that the tutor should be gentle-tempered, generous, and good. This impressed the image of Le Fever upon my uncle Toby so forcibly, he rose instantly, and taking my father's hands, said: 'I beg, brother Shandy, I may recommend poor Le Fever's son to you. He has a good heart.' 'And a brave one too, your honour,' said the corporal. 'The best hearts, Trim, are ever the bravest,' replied my uncle Toby. 'And the greatest cowards, your honour, in our regiment, were the greatest rascals. There was sergeant Kumber, and ensign-' 'We'll talk of them,' said my father, 'another time.'

Tristram Shandy

Book 6 - Chapter 13

Holla! ----you, chairman! ----here's sixpence----do step into that bookseller's shop, and call me a _day-tall_ critick. I am very willing to give any one of 'em a crown to help me with his tackling, to get my father and my uncle _Toby_ off the stairs, and to put them to bed. --'Tis even high time; for except a short nap, which they both got whilst _Trim_ was boring the jack-boots--and which, by the bye, did my father no sort of good, upon the score of the bad hinge--they have not else shut their eyes, since nine hours before the time that Dr. _Slop_ was led into the back parlour in that dirty pickle by _Obadiah_. Was every day of my life to be as busy a day as this--and to take up --Truce. I will not finish that sentence till I have made an observation upon the strange state of affairs between the reader and myself, just as things stand at present--an observation never applicable before to any one biographical writer since the creation of the world, but to myself--and I believe, will never hold good to any other, until its final destruction--and therefore, for the very novelty of it alone, it must be worth your worships attending to. I am this month one whole year older than I was this time twelve-month; and having got, as you perceive, almost into the middle of my fourth volume[4.7]--and no farther than to my first day's life--'tis demonstrative that I have three hundred and sixty-four days more life to write just now, than when I first set out; so that instead of advancing, as a common writer, in my work with what I have been doing at it--on the contrary, I am just thrown so many volumes back--was every day of my life to be as busy a day as this --And why not? ----and the transactions and opinions of it to take up as much description --And for what reason should they be cut short? as at this rate I should just live 364 times faster than I should write --It must follow, an' please your worships, that the more I write, the more I shall have to write--and consequently, the more your worships read, the more your worships will have to read. Will this be good for your worships' eyes? It will do well for mine; and, was it not that my OPINIONS will be the death of me, I perceive I shall lead a fine life of it out of this self-same life of mine; or, in other words, shall lead a couple of fine lives together. As for the proposal of twelve volumes a year, or a volume a month, it no way alters my prospect--write as I will, and rush as I may into the middle of things, as _Horace_ advises --I shall never overtake myself whipp'd and driven to the last pinch; at the worst I shall have one day the start of my pen--and one day is enough for two volumes----and two volumes will be enough for one year.-- Heaven prosper the manufacturers of paper under this propitious reign, which is now opened to us----as I trust its providence will prosper everything else in it that is taken in hand.---- As for the propagation of Geese --I give myself no concern --Nature is all bountiful --I shall never want tools to work with. --So then, friend! you have got my father and my uncle _Toby_ off the stairs, and seen them to bed? ------And how did you manage it? ----You dropp'd a curtain at the stair-foot --I thought you had no other way for it ------Here's a crown for your trouble. [Footnote 4.7: According to the original Editions.]

Holla! here's sixpence - do step into that bookseller's shop, and get me a day-tall critic. I am very willing to give any one of 'em a crown to help me get my father and my uncle Toby off the stairs, and put them to bed. 'Tis high time; for except for a short nap, which they had whilst Trim was boring the jack-boots - which nap, by the bye, did my father no good, because of the bad hinge - they have not shut their eyes since nine hours before Dr. Slop was led into the back parlour by Obadiah. Was every day of my life to be as busy as this - Truce. I will not finish that sentence till I have made an observation upon the strange state of affairs between the reader and myself - an observation that never applied before to any biographical writer in the world, but me - and therefore, for its novelty alone, it must be worth your worships attending to. I am this month one whole year older than I was this time twelve months ago; and having got, as you see, almost into the middle of my fourth volume, and no farther than my first day of life - therefore I have three hundred and sixty-four days more life to write now, than when I first set out; so that instead of advancing, as a common writer, in my work - on the contrary, I am just thrown so many volumes back. If every day of my life was as busy as this - and my opinions were to take up as much description - and why should they be cut short? - at this rate I should just live 364 times faster than I write. It must follow that the more I write, the more I shall have to write - and consequently, the more your worships read, the more your worships will have to read. Was it not that my Opinions will be the death of me, I shall lead a fine life out of this life of mine; or, rather shall lead a couple of fine lives together. As for the proposal of twelve volumes a year, it no way alters my prospect - rush as I may, I shall never overtake myself; at the worst I shall have one day's head start of my pen - and one day is enough for two volumes - and two volumes will be enough for one year. Heaven prosper the manufacturers of paper under this propitious reign. As for Geese and their quills - I have no concern. Nature is bountiful - I shall never lack tools to work with. So then, friend! you have got my father and my uncle off the stairs, and seen them to bed? How did you manage it? You dropped a curtain at the stair-foot. - Here's a crown for your trouble.

Tristram Shandy

Book 4 - Chapter 13

Is this a fit time, said my father to himself, to talk of PENSIONS and GRENADIERS?

Is this a fit time, said my father to himself, to talk of Pensions and Grenadiers?

Tristram Shandy

Book 4 - Chapter 5

To conceive this right, --call for pen and ink--here's paper ready to your hand. ----Sit down, Sir, paint her to your own mind----as like your mistress as you can----as unlike your wife as your conscience will let you--'tis all one to me----please but your own fancy in it. * * * * * * ------Was ever any thing in Nature so sweet! --so exquisite! ----Then, dear Sir, how could my uncle _Toby_ resist it? Thrice happy book! thou wilt have one page, at least, within thy covers, which MALICE will not blacken, and which IGNORANCE cannot misrepresent.

To imagine this right, call for pen and ink - here's paper ready to your hand. Sit down, Sir, and paint her as like your mistress as you can - as unlike your wife as your conscience will let you - 'tis all one to me - please your own fancy. * * * * * * * * Was ever any thing in Nature so sweet! so exquisite! How could my uncle Toby resist? Thrice happy book! thou wilt have this one page, at least, which Malice will not blacken, and which Ignorance cannot misrepresent.

Tristram Shandy

Book 6 - Chapter 38

----But before the Corporal begins, I must first give you a description of his attitude; ----otherwise he will naturally stand represented, by your imagination, in an uneasy posture, --stiff, --perpendicular, --dividing the weight of his body equally upon both legs; ----his eye fixed, as if on duty; --his look determined, --clenching the sermon in his left hand, like his firelock. ----In a word, you would be apt to paint _Trim_, as if he was standing in his platoon ready for action. --His attitude was as unlike all this as you can conceive. He stood before them with his body swayed, and bent forwards just so far, as to make an angle of 85 degrees and a half upon the plain of the horizon; --which sound orators, to whom I address this, know very well to be the true persuasive angle of incidence; --in any other angle you may talk and preach; --'tis certain; --and it is done every day; --but with what effect, --I leave the world to judge! The necessity of this precise angle, of 85 degrees and a half to a mathematical exactness, ----does it not shew us, by the way, how the arts and sciences mutually befriend each other? How the duce Corporal _Trim_, who knew not so much as an acute angle from an obtuse one, came to hit it so exactly; ----or whether it was chance or nature, or good sense or imitation, &c., shall be commented upon in that part of the cyclopdia of arts and sciences, where the instrumental parts of the eloquence of the senate, the pulpit, and the bar, the coffee-house, the bed-chamber, and fire-side, fall under consideration. He stood, ----for I repeat it, to take the picture of him in at one view, with his body swayed, and somewhat bent forwards, --his right leg from under him, sustaining seven-eighths of his whole weight, ------the foot of his left leg, the defect of which was no disadvantage to his attitude, advanced a little, --not laterally, nor forwards, but in a line betwixt them; --his knee bent, but that not violently, --but so as to fall within the limits of the line of beauty; --and I add, of the line of science too; --for consider, it had one eighth part of his body to bear up; --so that in this case the position of the leg is determined, --because the foot could be no farther advanced, or the knee more bent, than what would allow him, mechanically to receive an eighth part of his whole weight under it, and to carry it too. [-->] This I recommend to painters: --need I add, --to orators! --I think not; for unless they practise it, ------they must fall upon their noses. So much for Corporal _Trim's_ body and legs. ----He held the sermon loosely, not carelessly, in his left hand, raised something above his stomach, and detached a little from his breast; ----his right arm falling negligently by his side, as nature and the laws of gravity ordered it, ----but with the palm of it open and turned towards his audience, ready to aid the sentiment in case it stood in need. Corporal _Trim's_ eyes and the muscles of his face were in full harmony with the other parts of him; --he looked frank, --unconstrained, --something assured, --but not bordering upon assurance. Let not the critic ask how Corporal _Trim_ could come by all this. ----I've told him it should be explained; --but so he stood before my father, my uncle _Toby_, and Dr. _Slop_, --so swayed his body, so contrasted his limbs, and with such an oratorical sweep throughout the whole figure, ----a statuary might have modelled from it; ----nay, I doubt whether the oldest Fellow of a College, --or the _Hebrew_ Professor himself, could have much mended it. _Trim_ made a bow, and read as follows: The SERMON HEBREWS xiii. 18 ----_For we _trust_ we have a good Conscience_ "Trust! ----Trust we have a good conscience!" [Certainly, _Trim_, quoth my father, interrupting him, you give that sentence a very improper accent; for you curl up your nose, man, and read it with such a sneering tone, as if the Parson was going to abuse the Apostle. He is, an' please your Honour, replied _Trim_. Pugh! said my father, smiling. Sir, quoth Dr. _Slop_, _Trim_ is certainly in the right; for the writer (who I perceive is a Protestant) by the snappish manner in which he takes up the apostle, is certainly going to abuse him; --if this treatment of him has not done it already. But from whence, replied my father, have you concluded so soon, Dr. _Slop_, that the writer is of our church? --for aught I can see yet, --he may be of any church. ----Because, answered Dr. _Slop_, if he was of ours, --he durst no more take such a licence, --than a bear by his beard: --If, in our communion, Sir, a man was to insult an apostle, ----a saint, ----or even the paring of a saint's nail, --he would have his eyes scratched out. --What, by the saint? quoth my uncle _Toby_. No, replied Dr. _Slop_, he would have an old house over his head. Pray is the Inquisition an ancient building, answered my uncle _Toby_, or is it a modern one? --I know nothing of architecture, replied Dr. _Slop_. --An' please your Honours, quoth _Trim_, the Inquisition is the vilest ----Prithee spare thy description, _Trim_, I hate the very name of it, said my father. --No matter for that, answered Dr. _Slop_, --it has its uses; for tho' I'm no great advocate for it, yet, in such a case as this, he would soon be taught better manners; and I can tell him, if he went on at that rate, would be flung into the Inquisition for his pains. God help him then, quoth my uncle _Toby_. Amen, added _Trim_; for Heaven above knows, I have a poor brother who has been fourteen years a captive in it. --I never heard one word of it before, said my uncle _Toby_, hastily: --How came he there, _Trim?_ ----O, Sir! the story will make your heart bleed, --as it has made mine a thousand times; --but it is too long to be told now; --your Honour shall hear it from first to last some day when I am working beside you in our fortifications; --but the short of the story is this; --That my brother _Tom_ went over a servant to _Lisbon_, --and then married a Jew's widow, who kept a small shop, and sold sausages, which somehow or other, was the cause of his being taken in the middle of the night out of his bed, where he was lying with his wife and two small children, and carried directly to the Inquisition, where, God help him, continued _Trim_, fetching a sigh from the bottom of his heart, --the poor honest lad lies confined at this hour; he was as honest a soul, added _Trim_, (pulling out his handkerchief) as ever blood warmed.---- --The tears trickled down _Trim's_ cheeks faster than he could well wipe them away. --And dead silence in the room ensued for some minutes. --Certain proof of pity! Come, _Trim_, quoth my father, after he saw the poor fellow's grief had got a little vent, --read on, --and put this melancholy story out of thy head: --I grieve that I interrupted thee; but prithee begin the sermon again; --for if the first sentence in it is matter of abuse, as thou sayest, I have a great desire to know what kind of provocation the apostle has given. Corporal _Trim_ wiped his face, and returned his handkerchief into his pocket, and, making a bow as he did it, --he began again.] The SERMON HEBREWS xiii. 18 _----For we _trust_ we have a good Conscience. --_ "Trust! trust we have a good conscience! Surely if there is any thing in this life which a man may depend upon, and to the knowledge of which he is capable of arriving upon the most indisputable evidence, it must be this very thing, --whether he has a good conscience or no." [I am positive I am right, quoth Dr. _Slop_.] "If a man thinks at all, he cannot well be a stranger to the true state of this account; ----he must be privy to his own thoughts and desires; --he must remember his past pursuits, and know certainly the true springs and motives, which, in general, have governed the actions of his life." [I defy him, without an assistant, quoth Dr. _Slop_.] "In other matters we may be deceived by false appearances; and, as the wise man complains, _hardly do we guess aright at the things that are upon the earth, and with labour do we find the things that are before us_. But here the mind has all the evidence and facts within herself; ----is conscious of the web she has wove; ----knows its texture and fineness, and the exact share which every passion has had in working upon the several designs which virtue or vice has planned before her." [The language is good, and I declare _Trim_ reads very well, quoth my father.] "Now, --as conscience is nothing else but the knowledge which the mind has within herself of this; and the judgment, either of approbation or censure, which it unavoidably makes upon the successive actions of our lives; 'tis plain you will say, from the very terms of the proposition, --whenever this inward testimony goes against a man, and he stands self-accused, that he must necessarily be a guilty man. --And, on the contrary, when the report is favourable on his side, and his heart condemns him not: --that it is not a matter of _trust_, as the apostle intimates, but a matter of _certainty_ and fact, that the conscience is good, and that the man must be good also." [Then the apostle is altogether in the wrong, I suppose, quoth Dr. _Slop_, and the Protestant divine is in the right. Sir, have patience, replied my father, for I think it will presently appear that St. _Paul_ and the Protestant divine are both of an opinion. --As nearly so, quoth Dr. _Slop_, as east is to west; --but this, continued he, lifting both hands, comes from the liberty of the press. It is no more, at the worst, replied my uncle _Toby_, than the liberty of the pulpit; for it does not appear that the sermon is printed, or ever likely to be. Go on, _Trim_, quoth my father.] "At first sight this may seem to be a true state of the case: and I make no doubt but the knowledge of right and wrong is so truly impressed upon the mind of man, --that did no such thing ever happen, as that the conscience of a man, by long habits of sin, might (as the scripture assures it may) insensibly become hard; --and, like some tender parts of his body, by much stress and continual hard usage, lose by degrees that nice sense and perception with which God and nature endowed it: --Did this never happen; --or was it certain that self-love could never hang the least bias upon the judgment; --or that the little interests below could rise up and perplex the faculties of our upper regions, and encompass them about with clouds and thick darkness: ----Could no such thing as favour and affection enter this sacred Court: --Did WIT disdain to take a bribe in it; --or was ashamed to shew its face as an advocate for an unwarrantable enjoyment: Or, lastly, were we assured that INTEREST stood always unconcerned whilst the cause was hearing--and that Passion never got into the judgment-seat, and pronounced sentence in the stead of Reason, which is supposed always to preside and determine upon the case: --Was this truly so, as the objection must suppose; --no doubt then the religious and moral state of a man would be exactly what he himself esteemed it: --and the guilt or innocence of every man's life could be known, in general, by no better measure, than the degrees of his own approbation and censure. "I own, in one case, whenever a man's conscience does accuse him (as it seldom errs on that side) that he is guilty; and unless in melancholy and hypocondriac cases, we may safely pronounce upon it, that there is always sufficient grounds for the accusation. "But the converse of the proposition will not hold true; --namely, that whenever there is guilt, the conscience must accuse; and if it does not, that a man is therefore innocent. ----This is not fact ------So that the common consolation which some good christian or other is hourly administering to himself, --that he thanks God his mind does not misgive him; and that, consequently, he has a good conscience, because he hath a quiet one, --is fallacious; --and as current as the inference is, and as infallible as the rule appears at first sight, yet when you look nearer to it, and try the truth of this rule upon plain facts, ----you see it liable to so much error from a false application; ----the principle upon which it goes so often perverted; ----the whole force of it lost, and sometimes so vilely cast away, that it is painful to produce the common examples from human life, which confirm the account. "A man shall be vicious and utterly debauched in his principles; --exceptionable in his conduct to the world; shall live shameless, in the open commission of a sin which no reason or pretence can justify, ----a sin by which, contrary to all the workings of humanity, he shall ruin for ever the deluded partner of his guilt; --rob her of her best dowry; and not only cover her own head with dishonour; --but involve a whole virtuous family in shame and sorrow for her sake. Surely, you will think conscience must lead such a man a troublesome life; he can have no rest night or day from its reproaches. "Alas! CONSCIENCE had something else to do all this time, than break in upon him; as _Elijah_ reproached the god _Baal_, ----this domestic god _was either talking, or pursuing, or was in a journey, or peradventure he slept and could not be awoke_. "Perhaps HE was gone out in company with HONOUR to fight a duel: to pay off some debt at play; ----or dirty annuity, the bargain of his lust; Perhaps CONSCIENCE all this time was engaged at home, talking aloud against petty larceny, and executing vengeance upon some such puny crimes as his fortune and rank of life secured him against all temptation of committing; so that he lives as merrily" ----[If he was of our church, tho', quoth Dr. _Slop_, he could not]-- "sleeps as soundly in his bed; --and at last meets death as unconcernedly; --perhaps much more so, than a much better man." [All this is impossible with us, quoth Dr. _Slop_, turning to my father, --the case could not happen in our church. --It happens in ours, however, replied my father, but too often. ----I own, quoth Dr. _Slop_, (struck a little with my father's frank acknowledgment)--that a man in the _Romish_ church may live as badly; --but then he cannot easily die so. ----'Tis little matter, replied my father, with an air of indifference, --how a rascal dies. --I mean, answered Dr. _Slop_, he would be denied the benefits of the last sacraments. --Pray how many have you in all, said my uncle _Toby_, ----for I always forget? ----Seven, answered Dr. _Slop_. ----Humph! --said my uncle _Toby_; tho' not accented as a note of acquiescence, --but as an interjection of that particular species of surprize, when a man in looking into a drawer, finds more of a thing than he expected. ----Humph! replied my uncle _Toby_. Dr. _Slop_, who had an ear, understood my uncle _Toby_ as well as if he had wrote a whole volume against the seven sacraments. ----Humph! replied Dr. _Slop_ (stating my uncle _Toby's_ argument over again to him) ----Why, Sir, are there not seven cardinal virtues? ----Seven mortal sins? ----Seven golden candlesticks? ----Seven heavens? --'Tis more than I know, replied my uncle _Toby_. ------Are there not seven wonders of the world? ----Seven days of the creation? ----Seven planets? ----Seven plagues? ----That there are, quoth my father with a most affected gravity. But prithee, continued he, go on with the rest of thy characters, _Trim_.] "Another is sordid, unmerciful," (here _Trim_ waved his right hand) "a strait-hearted, selfish wretch, incapable either of private friendship or public spirit. Take notice how he passes by the widow and orphan in their distress, and sees all the miseries incident to human life without a sigh or a prayer." [An' please your honours, cried _Trim_, I think this a viler man than the other.] "Shall not conscience rise up and sting him on such occasions? ----No; thank God there is no occasion, _I pay every man his own; --I have no fornication to answer to my conscience; --no faithless vows or promises to make up; --I have debauched no man's wife or child; thank God, I am not as other men, adulterers, unjust, or even as this libertine, who stands before me._ "A third is crafty and designing in his nature. View his whole life; --'tis nothing but a cunning contexture of dark arts and unequitable subterfuges, basely to defeat the true intent of all laws, ----plain-dealing and the safe enjoyment of our several properties. ----You will see such a one working out a frame of little designs upon the ignorance and perplexities of the poor and needy man; --shall raise a fortune upon the inexperience of a youth, or the unsuspecting temper of his friend, who would have trusted him with his life. "When old age comes on, and repentance calls him to look back upon this black account, and state it over again with his conscience --CONSCIENCE looks into the STATUTES AT LARGE; --finds no express law broken by what he has done; --perceives no penalty or forfeiture of goods and chattels incurred; --sees no scourge waving over his head, or prison opening his gates upon him: --What is there to affright his conscience? --Conscience has got safely entrenched behind the Letter of the Law; sits there invulnerable, fortified with #Cases# and #Reports# so strongly on all sides; --that it is not preaching can dispossess it of its hold." [Here Corporal _Trim_ and my uncle _Toby_ exchanged looks with each other. --Aye, aye, _Trim!_ quoth my uncle _Toby_, shaking his head, ------these are but sorry fortifications, _Trim_. ------O! very poor work, answered _Trim_, to what your Honour and I make of it. ----The character of this last man, said Dr. _Slop_, interrupting _Trim_, is more detestable than all the rest; and seems to have been taken from some pettifogging Lawyer amongst you: --Amongst us, a man's conscience could not possibly continue so long _blinded_, ----three times in a year, at least, he must go to confession. Will that restore it to sight? quoth my uncle _Toby_. ----Go on, _Trim_, quoth my father, or _Obadiah_ will have got back before thou hast got to the end of thy sermon. ----'Tis a very short one, replied _Trim_. ----I wish it was longer, quoth my uncle _Toby_, for I like it hugely. --_Trim_ went on.] "A fourth man shall want even this refuge; --shall break through all their ceremony of slow chicane; ----scorns the doubtful workings of secret plots and cautious trains to bring about his purpose: ----See the bare-faced villain, how he cheats, lies, perjures, robs, murders! --Horrid! --But indeed much better was not to be expected, in the present case--the poor man was in the dark! ------his priest had got the keeping of his conscience; ----and all he would let him know of it, was, That he must believe in the Pope; --go to Mass; --cross himself; --tell his beads; --be a good Catholic, and that this, in all conscience, was enough to carry him to heaven. What; --if he perjures! --Why; --he had a mental reservation in it. --But if he is so wicked and abandoned a wretch as you represent him; --if he robs, --if he stabs, will not conscience, on every such act, receive a wound itself? --Aye, --but the man has carried it to confession; ----the wound digests there, and will do well enough, and in a short time be quite healed up by absolution. O Popery! what hast thou to answer for? ----when, not content with the too many natural and fatal ways, thro' which the heart of man is every day thus treacherous to itself above all things; --thou hast wilfully set open the wide gate of deceit before the face of this unwary traveller, too apt, God knows, to go astray of himself; and confidently speak peace to himself, when there is no peace. "Of this the common instances which I have drawn out of life, are too notorious to require much evidence. If any man doubts the reality of them, or thinks it impossible for a man to be such a bubble to himself, --I must refer him a moment to his own reflections, and will then venture to trust my appeal with his own heart. "Let him consider in how different a degree of detestation, numbers of wicked actions stand _there_, tho' equally bad and vicious in their own natures; --he will soon find, that such of them as strong inclination and custom have prompted him to commit, are generally dressed out and painted with all the false beauties which a soft and a flattering hand can give them; --and that the others, to which he feels no propensity, appear, at once, naked and deformed, surrounded with all the true circumstances of folly and dishonour. "When _David_ surprized _Saul_ sleeping in the cave, and cut off the skirt of his robe--we read his heart smote him for what he had done: ----But in the matter of _Uriah_, where a faithful and gallant servant, whom he ought to have loved and honoured, fell to make way for his lust, --where conscience had so much greater reason to take the alarm, his heart smote him not. A whole year had almost passed from the first commission of that crime, to the time _Nathan_ was sent to reprove him; and we read not once of the least sorrow or compunction of heart which he testified, during all that time, for what he had done. "Thus conscience, this once able monitor, ----placed on high as a judge within us, and intended by our Maker as a just and equitable one too, --by an unhappy train of causes and impediments, takes often such imperfect cognizance of what passes, ----does its office so negligently, ----sometimes so corruptly--that it is not to be trusted alone; and therefore we find there is a necessity, an absolute necessity, of joining another principle with it, to aid, if not govern, its determinations. "So that if you would form a just judgment of what is of infinite importance to you not to be misled in, --namely, in what degree of real merit you stand either as an honest man, an useful citizen, a faithful subject to your king, or a good servant to your God, ----call in religion and morality. --Look, What is written in the law of God? ----How readest thou? --Consult calm reason and the unchangeable obligations of justice and truth; ----what say they? "Let CONSCIENCE determine the matter upon these reports; ----and then if thy heart condemns thee not, which is the case the apostle supposes, ----the rule will be infallible;" --[Here Dr. _Slop_ fell asleep]-- "_thou wilt have confidence towards God_; ----that is, have just grounds to believe the judgment thou hast past upon thyself, is the judgment of God; and nothing else but an anticipation of that righteous sentence which will be pronounced upon thee hereafter by that Being, to whom thou art finally to give an account of thy actions. "_Blessed is the man_, indeed, then, as the author of the book of _Ecclesiasticus_ expresses it, _who is not pricked with the multitude of his sins: Blessed is the man whose heart hath not condemned him; whether he be rich, or whether he be poor, if he have a good heart_ (a heart thus guided and informed) _he shall at all times rejoice in a chearful countenance; his mind shall tell him more than seven watch-men that sit above upon a tower on high_." --[A tower has no strength, quoth my uncle _Toby_, unless 'tis flank'd.]-- "In the darkest doubts it shall conduct him safer than a thousand casuists, and give the state he lives in, a better security for his behaviour than all the causes and restrictions put together which law-makers are forced to multiply: --_Forced_, I say, as things stand; human laws not being a matter of original choice, but of pure necessity, brought in to fence against the mischievous effects of those consciences which are no law unto themselves; well intending, by the many provisions made, --that in all such corrupt and misguided cases, where principles and the checks of conscience will not make us upright, --to supply their force, and, by the terrors of gaols and halters, oblige us to it." [I see plainly, said my father, that this sermon has been composed to be preached at the Temple, ----or at some Assize. --I like the reasoning, --and am sorry that Dr. _Slop_ has fallen asleep before the time of his conviction: --for it is now clear, that the Parson, as I thought at first, never insulted St. _Paul_ in the least; --nor has there been, brother, the least difference between them. ----A great matter, if they had differed, replied my uncle _Toby_, --the best friends in the world may differ sometimes. ----True, --brother _Toby_, quoth my father, shaking hands with him, --we'll fill our pipes, brother, and then _Trim_ shall go on. Well, ----what dost thou think of it? said my father speaking to Corporal _Trim_, as he reached his tobacco-box. I think, answered the Corporal, that the seven watch-men upon the tower, who, I suppose, are all centinels there, --are more, an' please your Honour, than were necessary; --and, to go on at that rate, would harrass a regiment all to pieces, which a commanding officer, who loves his men, will never do, if he can help it, because two centinels, added the Corporal, are as good as twenty. --I have been a commanding officer myself in the _Corps de Garde_ a hundred times, continued _Trim_, rising an inch higher in his figure, as he spoke, --and all the time I had the honour to serve his Majesty King _William_, in relieving the most considerable posts, I never left more than two in my life. ----Very right, _Trim_, quoth my uncle _Toby_, --but you do not consider, _Trim_, that the towers, in _Solomon's_ days, were not such things as our bastions, flanked and defended by other works; --this, _Trim_, was an invention since _Solomon's_ death; nor had they horn-works, or ravelins before the curtin, in his time; ----or such a foss as we make with a cuvette in the middle of it, and with covered ways and counterscarps pallisadoed along it, to guard against a _Coup de main_: --So that the seven men upon the tower were a party, I dare say, from the _Corps de Garde_, set there, not only to look out, but to defend it. --They could be no more, an' please your Honour, than a Corporal's Guard. --My father smiled inwardly, but not outwardly; --the subject being rather too serious, considering what had happened, to make a jest of. --So putting his pipe into his mouth, which he had just lighted, --he contented himself with ordering _Trim_ to read on. He read on as follows:] "To have the fear of God before our eyes, and, in our mutual dealings with each other, to govern our actions by the eternal measures of right and wrong: ----The first of these will comprehend the duties of religion; --the second, those of morality, which are so inseparably connected together, that you cannot divide these two _tables_, even in imagination (tho' the attempt is often made in practice) without breaking and mutually destroying them both. "I said the attempt is often made; and so it is; ----there being nothing more common than to see a man who has no sense at all of religion, and indeed has so much honesty as to pretend to none, who would take it as the bitterest affront, should you but hint at a suspicion of his moral character, ----or imagine he was not conscientiously just and scrupulous to the uttermost mite. "When there is some appearance that it is so, --tho' one is unwilling even to suspect the appearance of so amiable a virtue as moral honesty, yet were we to look into the grounds of it, in the present case, I am persuaded we should find little reason to envy such a one the honour of his motive. "Let him declaim as pompously as he chooses upon the subject, it will be found to rest upon no better foundation than either his interest, his pride, his ease, or some such little and changeable passion as will give us but small dependence upon his actions in matters of great distress. "I will illustrate this by an example. "I know the banker I deal with, or the physician I usually call in" --[There is no need, cried Dr. _Slop_ (waking), to call in any physician in this case]---- "to be neither of them men of much religion: I hear them make a jest of it every day, and treat all its sanctions with so much scorn, as to put the matter past doubt. Well; --notwithstanding this, I put my fortune into the hands of the one: --and what is dearer still to me, I trust my life to the honest skill of the other. "Now let me examine what is my reason for this great confidence. Why, in the first place, I believe there is no probability that either of them will employ the power I put into their hands to my disadvantage; --I consider that honesty serves the purposes of this life: --I know their success in the world depends upon the fairness of their characters. --In a word, I'm persuaded that they cannot hurt me without hurting themselves more. "But put it otherwise, namely, that interest lay, for once, on the other side; that a case should happen, wherein the one, without stain to his reputation, could secrete my fortune, and leave me naked in the world; --or that the other could send me out of it, and enjoy an estate by my death, without dishonour to himself or his art: --In this case, what hold have I of either of them? --Religion, the strongest of all motives, is out of the question; --Interest, the next most powerful motive in the world, is strongly against me: ------What have I left to cast into the opposite scale to balance this temptation? ------Alas! I have nothing, ----nothing but what is lighter than a bubble ------I must lie at the mercy of HONOUR, or some such capricious principle --Strait security for two of the most valuable blessings! --my property and myself. "As, therefore, we can have no dependence upon morality without religion; --so, on the other hand, there is nothing better to be expected from religion without morality; nevertheless, 'tis no prodigy to see a man whose real moral character stands very low, who yet entertains the highest notion of himself in the light of a religious man. "He shall not only be covetous, revengeful, implacable, --but even wanting in points of common honesty; yet inasmuch as he talks aloud against the infidelity of the age, ----is zealous for some points of religion, ----goes twice a day to church, --attends the sacraments, --and amuses himself with a few instrumental parts of religion, --shall cheat his conscience into a judgment, that, for this, he is a religious man, and has discharged truly his duty to God: And you will find such a man, through force of this delusion, generally looks down with spiritual pride upon every other man who has less affectation of piety, --though, perhaps, ten times more real honesty than himself. "_This likewise is a sore evil under the sun_; and I believe, there is no one mistaken principle, which, for its time, has wrought more serious mischiefs. ------For a general proof of this, --examine the history of the _Romish_ church;" --[Well, what can you make of that? cried Dr. _Slop_]-- "see what scenes of cruelty, murder, rapine, bloodshed," ----[They may thank their own obstinacy, cried Dr. _Slop_]---- "have all been sanctified by a religion not strictly governed by morality. "In how many kingdoms of the world" --[Here _Trim_ kept waving his right hand from the sermon to the extent of his arm, returning it backwards and forwards to the conclusion of the paragraph.] "In how many kingdoms of the world has the crusading sword of this misguided saint-errant, spared neither age nor merit, or sex, or condition? --and, as he fought under the banners of a religion which set him loose from justice and humanity, he shewed none; mercilessly trampled upon both, --heard neither the cries of the unfortunate, nor pitied their distresses." [I have been in many a battle, an' please your Honour, quoth _Trim_, sighing, but never in so melancholy a one as this, --I would not have drawn a tricker in it against these poor souls, ----to have been made a general officer. ----Why? what do you understand of the affair? said Dr. _Slop_, looking towards _Trim_, with something more of contempt than the Corporal's honest heart deserved. ----What do you know, friend, about this battle you talk of? --I know, replied _Trim_, that I never refused quarter in my life to any man who cried out for it; ----but to a woman or a child, continued _Trim_, before I would level my musket at them, I would lose my life a thousand times. ----Here's a crown for thee, _Trim_, to drink with _Obadiah_ to-night, quoth my uncle _Toby_, and I'll give _Obadiah_ another too. --God bless your Honour, replied _Trim_, ----I had rather these poor women and children had it. ----Thou art an honest fellow, quoth my uncle _Toby_. ----My father nodded his head, as much as to say, --and so he is.---- But prithee, _Trim_, said my father, make an end, --for I see thou hast but a leaf or two left. Corporal _Trim_ read on.] "If the testimony of past centuries in this matter is not sufficient, --consider at this instant, how the votaries of that religion are every day thinking to do service and honour to God, by actions which are a dishonour and scandal to themselves. "To be convinced of this, go with me for a moment into the prisons of the Inquisition." --[God help my poor brother _Tom_.]-- "Behold _Religion_, with _Mercy_ and _Justice_ chained down under her feet, ----there sitting ghastly upon a black tribunal, propped up with racks and instruments of torment. Hark! --hark! what a piteous groan!" --[Here _Trim's_ face turned as pale as ashes.]---- "See the melancholy wretch who uttered it" --[Here the tears began to trickle down.]---- "just brought forth to undergo the anguish of a mock trial, and endure the utmost pains that a studied system of cruelty has been able to invent." --[D--n them all, quoth _Trim_, his colour returning into his face as red as blood.]-- "Behold this helpless victim delivered up to his tormentors, --his body so wasted with sorrow and confinement." ----[Oh! 'tis my brother, cried poor _Trim_ in a most passionate exclamation, dropping the sermon upon the ground, and clapping his hands together --I fear 'tis poor _Tom_. My father's and my uncle _Toby's_ heart yearned with sympathy for the poor fellow's distress; even _Slop_ himself acknowledged pity for him. ----Why, _Trim_, said my father, this is not a history, ----'tis a sermon thou art reading; prithee begin the sentence again.]---- "Behold this helpless victim delivered up to his tormentors, --his body so wasted with sorrow and confinement, you will see every nerve and muscle as it suffers. "Observe the last movement of that horrid engine!" --[I would rather face a cannon, quoth _Trim_, stamping.]-- "See what convulsions it has thrown him into! ----Consider the nature of the posture in which he now lies stretched, --what exquisite tortures he endures by it!" --[I hope 'tis not in _Portugal_.]-- "'Tis all nature can bear! Good God! see how it keeps his weary soul hanging upon his trembling lips!" [I would not read another line of it, quoth _Trim_, for all this _world_; --I fear, an' please your Honours, all this is in _Portugal_, where my poor brother _Tom_ is. I tell thee, _Trim_, again, quoth my father, 'tis not an historical account, --'tis a description. --'Tis only a description, honest man, quoth _Slop_, there's not a word of truth in it. ----That's another story, replied my father. --However, as _Trim_ reads it with so much concern, --'tis cruelty to force him to go on with it. --Give me hold of the sermon, _Trim_, --I'll finish it for thee, and thou may'st go. I must stay and hear it, too, replied _Trim_, if your Honour will allow me; --tho' I would not read it myself for a Colonel's pay. ------Poor _Trim!_ quoth my uncle _Toby_. My father went on.]-- "----Consider the nature of the posture in which he now lies stretched, --what exquisite torture he endures by it! --'Tis all nature can bear! Good God! See how it keeps his weary soul hanging upon his trembling lips, --willing to take its leave, ----but not suffered to depart! --Behold the unhappy wretch led back to his cell!" ----[Then, thank God, however, quoth _Trim_, they have not killed him.]-- "See him dragged out of it again to meet the flames, and the insults in his last agonies, which this principle, --this principle, that there can be religion without mercy, has prepared for him." ----[Then, thank God, ----he is dead, quoth _Trim_, --he is out of his pain, --and they have done their worst at him. --O Sirs! --Hold your peace, _Trim_, said my father, going on with the sermon, lest _Trim_ should incense Dr. _Slop_, --we shall never have done at this rate.] "The surest way to try the merit of any disputed notion is, to trace down the consequences such a notion has produced, and compare them with the spirit of Christianity; ----'tis the short and decisive rule which our Saviour hath left us, for these and such like cases, and it is worth a thousand arguments----_By their fruits ye shall know them._ "I will add no farther to the length of this sermon, than by two or three short and independent rules deducible from it. "_First_, Whenever a man talks loudly against religion, always suspect that it is not his reason, but his passions, which have got the better of his CREED. A bad life and a good belief are disagreeable and troublesome neighbours, and where they separate, depend upon it, 'tis for no other cause but quietness' sake. "_Secondly_, When a man, thus represented, tells you in any particular instance, ----That such a thing goes against his conscience, ----always believe he means exactly the same thing, as when he tells you such a thing goes _against_ his stomach; --a present want of appetite being generally the true cause of both. "In a word, --trust that man in nothing, who has not a CONSCIENCE in everything. "And, in your own case, remember this plain distinction, a mistake in which has ruined thousands, --that your conscience is not a law: --No, God and reason made the law, and have placed conscience within you to determine; ----not, like an _Asiatic_ Cadi, according to the ebbs and flows of his own passions, --but like a _British_ judge in this land of liberty and good sense, who makes no new law, but faithfully declares that law which he knows already written." _FINIS_ Thou hast read the sermon extremely well, _Trim_, quoth my father. --If he had spared his comments, replied Dr. _Slop_, ----he would have read it much better. I should have read it ten times better, Sir, answered _Trim_, but that my heart was so full. --That was the very reason, _Trim_, replied my father, which has made thee read the sermon as well as thou hast done; and if the clergy of our church, continued my father, addressing himself to Dr. _Slop_, would take part in what they deliver as deeply as this poor fellow has done, --as their compositions are fine; --[I deny it, quoth Dr. _Slop_]-- I maintain it, --that the eloquence of our pulpits, with such subjects to enflame it, would be a model for the whole world: ----But alas! continued my father, and I own it, Sir, with sorrow, that, like _French_ politicians in this respect, what they gain in the cabinet they lose in the field. ----'Twere a pity, quoth my uncle, that this should be lost. I like the sermon well, replied my father, ----'tis dramatick, --and there is something in that way of writing, when skilfully managed, which catches the attention. ----We preach much in that way with us, said Dr. _Slop_. --I know that very well, said my father, ----but in a tone and manner which disgusted Dr. _Slop_, full as much as his assent, simply, could have pleased him. ----But in this, added Dr. _Slop_, a little piqued, --our sermons have greatly the advantage, that we never introduce any character into them below a patriarch or a patriarch's wife, or a martyr or a saint. --There are some very bad characters in this, however, said my father, and I do not think the sermon a jot the worse for 'em. ----But pray, quoth my uncle _Toby_, --who's can this be? --How could it get into my _Stevinus?_ A man must be as great a conjurer as _Stevinus_, said my father, to resolve the second question: --The first, I think, is not so difficult; --for unless my judgment greatly deceives me, ----I know the author, for 'tis wrote, certainly, by the parson of the parish. The similitude of the stile and manner of it, with those my father constantly had heard preached in his parish-church, was the ground of his conjecture, --proving it as strongly, as an argument _ priori_ could prove such a thing to a philosophic mind, That it was _Yorick's_ and no one's else: --It was proved to be so, _ posteriori_, the day after, when _Yorick_ sent a servant to my uncle _Toby's_ house to enquire after it. It seems that _Yorick_, who was inquisitive after all kinds of knowledge, had borrowed _Stevinus_ of my uncle _Toby_, and had carelessly popped his sermon, as soon as he had made it, into the middle of _Stevinus_; and by an act of forgetfulness, to which he was ever subject, he had sent _Stevinus_ home, and his sermon to keep him company. Ill-fated sermon! Thou wast lost, after this recovery of thee, a second time, dropped thro' an unsuspected fissure in thy master's pocket, down into a treacherous and a tattered lining, --trod deep into the dirt by the left hind-foot of his Rosinante inhumanly stepping upon thee as thou falledst; --buried ten days in the mire, ----raised up out of it by a beggar, --sold for a halfpenny to a parish-clerk, ----transferred to his parson, ----lost for ever to thy own, the remainder of his days, ----nor restored to his restless MANES till this very moment, that I tell the world the story. Can the reader believe, that this sermon of _Yorick's_ was preached at an assize, in the cathedral of _York_, before a thousand witnesses, ready to give oath of it, by a certain prebendary of that church, and actually printed by him when he had done, ----and within so short a space as two years and three months after _Yorick's_ death? --_Yorick_ indeed, was never better served in his life; ------but it was a little hard to maltreat him after, and plunder him after he was laid in his grave. However, as the gentleman who did it was in perfect charity with _Yorick_, --and, in conscious justice, printed but a few copies to give away; --and that I am told he could moreover have made as good a one himself, had he thought fit, --I declare I would not have published this anecdote to the world; ----nor do I publish it with an intent to hurt his character and advancement in the church; ----I leave that to others; --but I find myself impelled by two reasons, which I cannot withstand. The first is, That in doing justice, I may give rest to _Yorick's_ ghost; ----which--as the country-people, and some others, believe, ----_still walks_. The second reason is, That, by laying open this story to the world, I gain an opportunity of informing it, --That in case the character of parson _Yorick_, and this sample of his sermons, is liked, ----there are now in the possession of the _Shandy_ family, as many as will make a handsome volume, at the world's service, ----and much good may they do it.

- But before the Corporal begins, I must first give you a description of his attitude; otherwise you will imagine him stiff and perpendicular, - his eye fixed, as if on duty, his look determined; clenching the sermon in his left hand. - In a word, you would be apt to paint Trim, as if he was standing in his platoon ready for action. His attitude was as unlike this as you can conceive. He stood before them with his body bent forwards to make an angle of 85 degrees and a half from the horizontal; - which orators know very well to be the true persuasive angle of incidence; - in any other angle you may talk and preach, certainly; but with what effect, I leave the world to judge! The necessity of this precise angle, of 85 degrees and a half - does it not show us, by the way, how the arts and sciences mutually befriend each other? How the deuce Corporal Trim, who knew not an acute angle from an obtuse one, came to hit it so exactly; whether it was chance or good sense or imitation, I know not. He stood, I repeat, with his body somewhat bent forwards, his right leg sustaining seven-eighths of his weight, - the left foot advanced a little, his knee bent, not violently, but so as to fall within the limits of the line of beauty; - consider, it had one eighth of his body to bear up - so that the foot could be no farther advanced, or the knee more bent, than what would allow him to carry an eighth part of his weight. [This I recommend to painters: - need I add, to orators! for unless they practise it, they must fall upon their noses.] So much for Corporal Trim's legs. He held the sermon loosely, not carelessly, in his left hand; his right arm falling negligently by his side, but with the palm open and turned towards his audience, ready to aid the sentiment if needed. Corporal Trim's eyes and face were in full harmony with the rest of him; he looked frank and assured. So he stood, with such an oratorical sweep of figure, a statue might have been modelled from it. He made a bow, and read as follows: The Sermon HEBREWS xiii. 18 For we trust we have a good Conscience '"Trust! Trust we have a good conscience!"' 'Certainly, Trim,' quoth my father, interrupting him, 'you give that sentence a very improper accent; for you curl up your nose, man, and read it with a sneering tone, as if the Parson was going to abuse the apostle.' 'He is, your Honour,' replied Trim. 'Pugh!' said my father, smiling. 'Sir,' quoth Dr. Slop, 'The writer (who I perceive is a Protestant) is certainly going to abuse the apostle, if he has not done it already.' 'But how,' replied my father, 'have you concluded so soon, Dr. Slop, that the writer is of our church? for aught I can see, he may be of any church.' 'Because,' answered Dr. Slop, 'if he was of ours, he would not dare take such a liberty. If, in our communion, Sir, a man was to insult an apostle - a saint - he would have his eyes scratched out.' 'What, by the saint?' quoth my uncle Toby. 'No,' replied Dr. Slop, 'he would have an old house on his head.' 'Is the Inquisition an ancient building?' asked my uncle Toby. 'I know nothing of architecture,' replied Dr. Slop. 'An' please your Honours,' quoth Trim, 'the Inquisition is the vilest-' 'Prithee stop thy description, Trim, I hate the very name of it,' said my father. 'It has its uses,' answered Dr. Slop, 'though I'm no great advocate for it; yet, in such a case as this, he would soon be taught better manners; and I can tell him, if he went on, he would be flung into the Inquisition for his pains.' 'God help him then,' quoth my uncle Toby. 'Amen,' added Trim; 'for I have a poor brother who has been fourteen years a captive in it.' 'I never heard one word of this before,' said my uncle Toby. 'How came he there, Trim?' 'O, Sir! the story will make your heart bleed - but it is too long to be told now; your Honour shall hear it some day when I am working beside you in our fortifications; - but the short of the story is this. My brother Tom was a servant in Lisbon, and married a Jew's widow, who kept a small shop, and sold sausages, which somehow or other, was the cause of his being taken in the middle of the night out of his bed, where he was lying with his wife and two small children, and carried to the Inquisition, where, God help him,' continued Trim, with a deep sigh, pulling out his handkerchief, 'the poor honest lad lies confined to this hour.' The tears trickled down Trim's cheeks faster than he could wipe them away. Dead silence ensued for some minutes. Certain proof of pity! 'Come, Trim,' quoth my father, after a while, 'read, and put this melancholy story out of thy head. Begin again.' Corporal Trim wiped his face, returned his handkerchief into his pocket, and began again. The Sermon HEBREWS xiii. 18 For we trust we have a good Conscience '"Trust! trust we have a good conscience! Surely if there is anything in this life which a man may depend upon, and may know upon the most indisputable evidence, it must be this very thing, whether he has a good conscience or no."' ['I am positive I am right,' quoth Dr. Slop.] '"If a man thinks at all, he must be aware of his own thoughts and desires; he must remember his past pursuits, and know the true motives which have governed the actions of his life. '"In other matters we may be deceived by false appearances; but here the mind has all the evidence and facts within herself; is conscious of the web she has wove; - knows its texture, and the exact share which every passion has had in working upon the designs which virtue or vice has planned before her."' ['The language is good, and I declare Trim reads very well,' quoth my father.] '"Now, as conscience is nothing but the knowledge which the mind has within herself; and the approval or censure, which it makes upon our actions; 'tis plain, you will say, that whenever this inward testimony goes against a man, and he stands self-accused, that he must be guilty. And, on the contrary, when the report is favourable on his side, and his heart condemns him not: - it is not a matter of trust, as the apostle suggests, but a matter of certainty, that the conscience is good, and that the man must be good also."' ['Then the apostle is altogether wrong, I suppose,' quoth Dr. Slop, 'and the Protestant divine is in the right.' 'Sir, have patience,' replied my father, 'for I think it will presently appear that St. Paul and the Protestant divine have the same opinion.' 'As nearly so,' quoth Dr. Slop, 'as east is like west; but this comes from the liberty of the press.' 'It is only the liberty of the pulpit,' replied my uncle Toby; 'for it does not appear that the sermon is printed, or ever likely to be.' 'Go on, Trim,' quoth my father.] '"At first sight this may seem to be the true state of the case: and the knowledge of right and wrong is so truly impressed upon the mind of man, that if a man's conscience did not, by long habits of sin, gradually become hard, and lose that sense and perception which God gave it: if this never happened; or if it was certain that self-love never biased the judgment: - if neither favour nor wit entered this sacred Court, and if Passion never pronounced judgement instead of Reason: - was this truly so, then no doubt the moral state of a man would be exactly what he himself esteemed it: and the guilt or innocence of every man's life could be known by no better measure, than his own approbation or censure. "I admit that whenever a man's conscience accuses him of guilt (as it seldom errs on that side), we may safely say that (except in cases of melancholy) there are sufficient grounds for the accusation. "But the opposite will not hold true; namely, that whenever there is guilt, the conscience must accuse; and that if it does not, that a man is therefore innocent. This is not fact. The common consolation which some good Christian or other is hourly administering to himself, - that he thanks God he has a good conscience, merely because he hath a quiet one - is false; and the rule is liable to so much error that the whole force of it is lost. "A man may be vicious and utterly debauched; may live shamelessly, openly committing a sin which shall ruin for ever the deluded partner of his guilt; and not only cover her head with dishonour, but involve a whole virtuous family in shame and sorrow for her sake. Surely, you will think conscience must lead such a man a troublesome life; he can have no rest night or day from its reproaches. "Alas! Conscience is busy elsewhere all this time, talking aloud against petty larceny, and executing vengeance upon some puny crimes that his fortune secures him against any temptation of committing; so that he lives as merrily, sleeps as soundly, and at last meets death as unconcernedly as a much better man."' ['All this is impossible with us,' quoth Dr. Slop, turning to my father; 'it could not happen in our church.' 'It happens in ours only too often,' replied my father. 'I admit,' quoth Dr. Slop, struck with my father's frankness, 'that a man in the Romish church may live badly; but then he cannot easily die so.' ''Tis little matter,' replied my father, 'how a rascal dies.' 'I mean,' answered Dr. Slop, 'he would be denied the last sacraments.' 'Pray, how many have you,' said my uncle Toby, 'for I always forget?' 'Seven,' answered Dr. Slop. 'Humph!' said my uncle Toby, with the tone of that particular kind of surprise, when a man looking into a drawer finds more of a thing than he expected. Dr. Slop understood this tone. 'Humph!' he replied. 'Sir, are there not seven cardinal virtues? Seven mortal sins? Seven heavens?' ''Tis more than I know,' replied my uncle Toby. 'Are there not seven wonders of the world? Seven days of the creation? Seven planets? Seven plagues?' 'That there are,' quoth my father. 'But prithee, Trim, go on.'] '"Another man is sordid, unmerciful,"' (here Trim waved his right hand) - '"a selfish wretch, incapable either of private friendship or public spirit. He passes by the widow and orphan in their distress, and sees human misery without a sigh or a prayer. Shall not conscience rise up and sting him? 'No,' he says; 'there is no need, I pay every man his due; I have no fornication, no faithless vows; thank God, I am not an adulterer like other men.' '"A third is crafty and designing in his nature. View his life; 'tis nothing but a cunning mixture of dark arts and subterfuges. You will see such a one working out designs upon the ignorance of the poor and needy man. He shall raise a fortune upon an inexperienced youth, or an unsuspecting friend, who would have trusted him with his life. '"When old age comes on, and repentance calls him to look back upon this black account, conscience finds no law broken by what he has done; perceives no prison opening its gates. Conscience is safely entrenched behind the Letter of the Law; sits there invulnerable, fortified with Cases and Reports.'" [Here Corporal Trim and my uncle Toby exchanged looks. 'Aye, aye, Trim!' quoth my uncle Toby, shaking his head, 'these are sorry fortifications.' 'O! very poor work,' answered Trim. 'The character of this last man,' said Dr. Slop, 'is more detestable than all the rest; and seems to have been taken from some pettifogging Lawyer. Amongst us, a man's conscience could not possibly continue so long blinded: three times a year, at least, he must go to confession.' 'Will that restore it to sight?' asked my uncle Toby. 'Go on, Trim,' quoth my father, 'or Obadiah will have got back before thou hast finished thy sermon.' ''Tis a very short one,' replied Trim. 'I wish it was longer,' quoth my uncle Toby, 'for I like it hugely.' Trim went on.] '"A fourth man shall lack even this refuge; he scorns the doubtful workings of secret plots. See the bare-faced villain, how he cheats, lies, perjures, robs, murders! Horrid! - But indeed no better was to be expected, for the poor man was in the dark! His priest had got the keeping of his conscience; and all he would let him know of it, was that he must believe in the Pope; go to Mass; cross himself; be a good Catholic, and that this was enough to carry him to heaven. '"But if he is so wicked, you may say, - if he robs and stabs, will not his conscience receive a wound? - Aye, but the man has carried it to confession; the wound will soon be quite healed up by absolution. O Popery! what hast thou to answer for? Not content with the many natural ways in which the heart of man is every day treacherous to itself, thou hast wilfully set open the wide gate of deceit to this unwary traveller, too apt, God knows, to go astray, and confidently speak peace to himself, when there is no peace. '"Examples of this are too notorious to require much evidence. If any man doubts them, I must refer him to his own reflections, and will then trust my appeal with his heart. '"He will soon find that there, wicked actions are viewed differently: some, which his wishes and habits have prompted him to commit, are painted with false beauty; yet others, to which he feels no inclination, appear naked and deformed, surrounded with folly and dishonour. '"When David surprised Saul sleeping in the cave, and cut off the skirt of his robe - we read his heart smote him for what he had done. But in the matter of Uriah, where a faithful and gallant servant, whom he ought to have loved, fell to make way for his lust, - where conscience had so much greater reason to take alarm, his heart smote him not. We read not once of the least sorrow or compunction which he felt for what he had done. '"Thus conscience, placed on high as a judge within us, and intended by our Maker as a just one, - by an unhappy train of impediments, does its office so imperfectly - sometimes so corruptly - that it is not to be trusted alone. Therefore we find there is an absolute necessity of joining another principle with it, to aid its determinations. '"So that if you would form a just judgment of the degree of merit in which you stand, - call in religion and morality. What is written in the law of God? Consult calm reason and the obligations of justice and truth; what say they? '"Let Conscience determine the matter upon these reports; and then if thy heart condemns thee not, the rule will be infallible;"' [Here Dr. Slop fell asleep] - '"thou wilt have just grounds to believe that the judgment thou hast passed upon thyself, is the judgment of God; and an anticipation of that righteous sentence which will be pronounced upon thee hereafter, when thou art finally called to account. '"Blessed is the man, indeed, then, as the author of Ecclesiasticus says, who is not pricked with the multitude of his sins. Blessed is the man whose heart hath not condemned him; whether he be rich, or poor, if he have a good heart, he shall rejoice; his mind shall tell him more than seven watch-men upon a tower on high."' ['A tower has no strength,' quoth my uncle Toby, 'unless 'tis flanked.'] '"In the darkest doubts it shall conduct him safer than all the restrictions of law-makers, forced out of pure necessity to guard against the mischievous effects of those consciences which are corrupt and misguided."' ['I see plainly,' said my father, 'that this sermon has been composed to be preached at the law-courts. I like the reasoning, and am sorry that Dr. Slop has fallen asleep: for it is now clear, that the Parson, as I thought at first, never insulted St. Paul in the least; nor has there been the least difference between them.' 'The best friends in the world may differ sometimes,' replied my uncle Toby. 'True, brother Toby,' quoth my father, shaking hands with him. 'We'll fill our pipes, and then Trim shall go on. What dost thou think of it, Trim?' 'I think,' answered the Corporal, 'that the seven watch-men upon the tower, who, I suppose, are sentinels, are more than necessary; and to go on at that rate, would harass a regiment all to pieces, which a commanding officer will never do. Two sentinels are as good as twenty. - I have been a commanding officer myself,' continued Trim, rising an inch higher, 'and all the time I had the honour to serve his Majesty King William, I never left more than two sentinels in my life.' 'Very right, Trim,' quoth my uncle Toby, 'but the towers in Solomon's days were not like our bastions; nor had they hornworks, or ravelins before the curtin, in his time; or such a foss as we make with a cuvette in the middle, and counterscarps pallisadoed along it. The seven men upon the tower were set there, I daresay, not only to look out, but to defend it.' My father smiled inwardly, but not outwardly; the subject being rather too serious to make a jest of. Putting his pipe into his mouth, he ordered Trim to read on.] '"To have the fear of God before our eyes, and to govern our actions by the eternal measures of right and wrong: the first of these will follow the duties of religion; the second, those of morality, which are so inseparably connected together that you cannot divide them (though the attempt is often made) without breaking them both. '"I said the attempt is often made; and so it is; - there being nothing more common than a man who has no sense of religion, and indeed has enough honesty to pretend to none, who would take it as the bitterest affront should you hint at a suspicion of his moral character, or imagine he was not completely just and scrupulous. '"There is little reason to envy such a one the honour of his motive. Let him declaim as pompously as he chooses, it will be found to rest upon no better foundation than his interest, his pride, his ease, or some other such changeable passion as gives us little dependence upon his actions in matters of great distress. '"I will illustrate this by an example. '"I know the banker I deal with, or the physician I usually call in-"' ['There is no need,' cried Dr. Slop, waking, 'to call in any physician in this case.'] '"- to be neither of them men of religion: I hear them make a scornful jest of it every day. Despite this, I put my fortune into the hands of the one, and I trust my life to the honest skill of the other. '"Now let me examine my reason for this great confidence. Firstly, I do not believe that either of them will use the power I put into their hands to my disadvantage; I know their success in the world depends upon the fairness of their characters. In a word, they cannot hurt me without hurting themselves more. '"But if interest lay, for once, on the other side; if the one, without stain to his reputation, could take my fortune, or the other could enjoy an estate by my death, without dishonour to himself - in this case, what hold have I over either of them? Religion, the strongest of all motives, is out of the question; Interest, the next most powerful motive in the world, is strongly against me. What have I left to cast into the opposite scale to balance this temptation? Alas! I have nothing. I am at the mercy of Honour, or some such capricious principle - poor security for my property and my health! '"As, therefore, we cannot depend upon morality without religion, so there is nothing better to be expected from religion without morality. Nevertheless, 'tis not uncommon to see a man whose real moral character stands very low, who yet entertains the highest notion of himself as a religious man. '"He may be covetous, revengeful, implacable, and dishonest; yet he talks loudly against the infidelity of the age, goes twice a day to church, attends the sacraments, and cheats his conscience into thinking that he is a religious man, and has discharged truly his duty to God. You will find such a man generally looks down upon everyone who has less apparent piety, - though, perhaps, ten times more real honesty than himself. '"I believe there is no one mistaken principle which has wrought more serious mischief. For a proof of this, examine the history of the Romish church; see what scenes of cruelty, murder, rapine, bloodshed-"' ['They may thank their own obstinacy,' cried Dr. Slop.] '"- have all been sanctified by a religion not governed by morality. In how many countries has the crusading sword of this misguided saint-errant spared neither age nor merit? and, as he fought under the banners of a religion which freed him from justice and humanity, he showed none; mercilessly trampled upon the unfortunate, and pitied not their distress." ['I have been in many a battle,' quoth Trim, sighing, 'but never in so melancholy a one as this.' 'Why? what do you understand of it?' said Dr. Slop, looking at Trim with something of contempt. 'I know,' replied Trim, 'that I never refused mercy to any man who begged for it; and rather than fire upon a child or woman, I would lose my life a thousand times.' 'Here's a crown for thee, Trim, to drink with Obadiah to-night,' quoth my uncle Toby. 'God bless your Honour,' replied Trim; 'I had rather those poor women and children had it.' 'Thou art an honest fellow,' quoth my uncle. My father nodded. 'But prithee, Trim,' he said, 'make an end, for I see thou hast but a page or two left.' Corporal Trim read on.] '"If the testimony of past centuries in this matter is not enough, consider how the votaries of that religion are every day thinking to serve God, by actions which are a dishonour and scandal. '"To be convinced of this, go with me for a moment into the prisons of the Inquisition." [God help my poor brother Tom.] "Behold Religion, with Mercy and Justice chained under her feet, there sitting ghastly upon a black tribunal, propped up with racks and instruments of torment. Hark! what a piteous groan!"' [Here Trim's face turned as pale as ashes.] '"See the melancholy wretch who uttered it-"' [Here the tears began to trickle down] '"-brought forth to undergo the anguish of a mock trial, and endure the utmost pains that a studied system of cruelty has been able to invent." ['D__n them all,' quoth Trim.] '"Behold this helpless victim, his body so wasted with sorrow and confinement-" ['Oh! 'tis my brother,' cried poor Trim, dropping the sermon upon the ground. My father and my uncle, and even Slop himself, pitied the poor fellow's distress. 'Why, Trim,' said my father, 'this is not a history, 'tis a sermon: prithee begin the sentence again.'] '"Behold this helpless victim, his body so wasted with sorrow and confinement, you will see every nerve and muscle as it suffers. '"Observe the last movement of that horrid engine!" ['I would rather face a cannon,' quoth Trim.] "See what convulsions it has thrown him into! Consider what exquisite tortures he endures! 'Tis all nature can bear! Good God! see how it keeps his weary soul hanging upon his trembling lips!" ['I would not read another line,' quoth Trim, 'for the world; I fear all this is in Portugal, where my poor brother Tom is.' 'I tell thee, Trim,' quoth my father, ''tis not a history.' 'There's not a word of truth in it,' quoth Slop. 'That's another story,' replied my father. 'However, 'tis cruelty to force Trim to go on. Give me the sermon, Trim; I'll finish it, and thou may'st go.' 'I must stay and hear it,' replied Trim. 'Poor Trim!' quoth my uncle Toby. My father went on.] '"- Consider what exquisite torture he endures! 'Tis all nature can bear! Good God! See how it keeps his weary soul hanging upon his trembling lips, not suffered to depart! Behold the unhappy wretch led back to his cell!"' ['Thank God,' quoth Trim, 'they have not killed him.'] '"See him dragged out of it again to meet the flames in his last agonies, which this principle - that there can be religion without mercy - has prepared for him."' ['Thank God, he is dead,' quoth Trim, 'he is out of his pain.' 'Hush, Trim,' said my father, lest Trim should incense Dr. Slop; 'we shall never have done at this rate.] '"The surest way to test the merit of any disputed notion is, to trace its consequences, and compare them with the spirit of Christianity; 'tis the rule which our Saviour hath left us, and it is worth a thousand arguments - By their fruits ye shall know them. '"I will add no more, apart from two or three short rules deducible from this. '"First, whenever a man talks loudly against religion, always suspect that it is not his reason, but his passions speaking. A bad life and a good belief are troublesome neighbours. '"Secondly, when a man tells you that something goes against his conscience, believe he means exactly the same as when he tells you something goes against his stomach. '"In a word, - trust that man in nothing, who has not a Conscience in everything. '"And, in your own case, remember that your conscience is not a law. God and reason made the law, and have placed conscience within you to determine - not according to the ebbs and flows of passion, but like a judge, who makes no new law, but faithfully declares that law which he knows already written. '"FINIS." 'Thou hast read the sermon extremely well, Trim,' quoth my father. 'If he had spared his comments,' replied Dr. Slop, 'he would have read it much better.' 'I should have read it ten times better, Sir,' answered Trim, 'but that my heart was so full.' 'That was the very reason, Trim,' replied my father, 'which made thee read the sermon so well; and if our clergy would feel as deeply as this poor fellow, the eloquence of our pulpits would be a model for the whole world. I like the sermon well, 'tis dramatic, and catches the attention.' 'We preach much in that way,' said Dr. Slop. 'I know that very well,' said my father, but in a tone which disgusted Dr. Slop. 'But our sermons have the advantage,' said Dr. Slop, a little piqued, 'in that we never introduce any character into them below a patriarch, a martyr or a saint.' 'There are some very bad characters in this,' said my father, 'but I do not think the sermon a jot worse for 'em.' 'But pray,' quoth my uncle Toby, 'whose can this be? How could it get into my Stevinus?' 'In answer to the first question, I know the author,' quoth my father; 'for 'tis the parson of the parish.' The style of it matching those my father constantly heard preached in his parish-church, he guessed that it was Yorick's. - It was proved to be so the next day, when Yorick sent a servant to my uncle Toby's house to enquire after it. It seems that Yorick had borrowed Stevinus, and had carelessly popped his sermon, which he had just written, into the middle of it; and forgetfully sent Stevinus home with his sermon to keep him company. Ill-fated sermon! Thou wast lost, after this recovery, a second time, dropped through an unsuspected hole in thy master's pocket, down into a treacherous and tattered lining, - trod deep into the dirt by the hind-foot of his horse; buried ten days in the mire, - raised up out of it by a beggar - sold for a halfpenny to a parish-clerk, transferred to his parson, and lost for ever to thine owner; nor restored till this very moment that I tell the world the story. Can the reader believe, that this sermon was preached in York cathedral before a thousand witnesses, by a certain prebendary of that church, and actually printed by him, only two years after Yorick's death?* Yorick indeed, was never better served in his life; but it was a little hard to plunder him after he was laid in his grave. However, as the gentleman who did it was in perfect agreement with Yorick, and printed copies to give away; - I do not tell this anecdote to hurt his character and advancement in the church; but find myself impelled by two reasons. The first is, that I may give rest to Yorick's ghost; which the country-people believe still walks. The second reason is, that by telling this story to the world, I can inform it that if this sample of Yorick's sermons is liked, there are many more such sermons in the possession of the Shandy family, enough to make a handsome volume, at the world's service. * Abridger's note: The Prebendary of York being one Laurence Sterne, who preached the sermon there in 1750.

Tristram Shandy

Book 2 - Chapter 17

You see 'tis high time, said my father, addressing himself equally to my uncle _Toby_ and _Yorick_, to take this young creature out of these women's hands, and put him into those of a private governor. _Marcus Antoninus_ provided fourteen governors all at once to superintend his son _Commodus's_ education, --and in six weeks he cashiered five of them; --I know very well, continued my father, that _Commodus's_ mother was in love with a gladiator at the time of her conception, which accounts for a great many of _Commodus's_ cruelties when he became emperor; --but still I am of opinion, that those five whom _Antoninus_ dismissed, did _Commodus's_ temper, in that short time, more hurt than the other nine were able to rectify all their lives long. Now as I consider the person who is to be about my son, as the mirror in which he is to view himself from morning to night, and by which he is to adjust his looks, his carriage, and perhaps the inmost sentiments of his heart; --I would have one, _Yorick_, if possible, polished at all points, fit for my child to look into. ----This is very good sense, quoth my uncle _Toby_ to himself. ----There is, continued my father, a certain mien and motion of the body and all its parts, both in acting and speaking, which argues a man _well within_; and I am not at all surprised that _Gregory_ of _Nazianzum_, upon observing the hasty and untoward gestures of _Julian_, should foretel he would one day become an apostate; ----or that St. _Ambrose_ should turn his _Amanuensis_ out of doors, because of an indecent motion of his head, which went backwards and forwards like a flail; ----or that _Democritus_ should conceive _Protagoras_ to be a scholar, from seeing him bind up a faggot, and thrusting, as he did it, the small twigs inwards. ----There are a thousand unnoticed openings, continued my father, which let a penetrating eye at once into a man's soul; and I maintain it, added he, that a man of sense does not lay down his hat in coming into a room, --or take it up in going out of it, but something escapes, which discovers him. It is for these reasons, continued my father, that the governor I make choice of shall neither[6.3] lisp, or squint, or wink, or talk loud, or look fierce, or foolish; ----or bite his lips, or grind his teeth, or speak through his nose, or pick it, or blow it with his fingers.---- He shall neither walk fast, --or slow, or fold his arms, --for that is laziness; --or hang them down, --for that is folly; or hide them in his pocket, for that is nonsense.---- He shall neither strike, or pinch, or tickle, --or bite, or cut his nails, or hawk, or spit, or snift, or drum with his feet or fingers in company; ----nor (according to _Erasmus_) shall he speak to any one in making water, --nor shall he point to carrion or excrement. ----Now this is all nonsense again, quoth my uncle _Toby_ to himself.---- I will have him, continued my father, chearful, facet, jovial; at the same time, prudent, attentive to business, vigilant, acute, argute, inventive, quick in resolving doubts and speculative questions; ----he shall be wise, and judicious, and learned: ----And why not humble, and moderate, and gentle-tempered, and good? said _Yorick_: ----And why not, cried my uncle _Toby_, free, and generous, and bountiful, and brave? ----He shall, my dear _Toby_, replied my father, getting up and shaking him by the hand. --Then, brother _Shandy_, answered my uncle _Toby_, raising himself off the chair, and laying down his pipe to take hold of my father's other hand, --I humbly beg I may recommend poor _Le Fever's_ son to you; ----a tear of joy of the first water sparkled in my uncle _Toby's_ eye, and another, the fellow to it, in the corporal's, as the proposition was made; ----you will see why when you read _Le Fever's_ story: ----fool that I was! nor can I recollect (nor perhaps you) without turning back to the place, what it was that hindered me from letting the corporal tell it in his own words; --but the occasion is lost, --I must tell it now in my own. [Footnote 6.3: Vid. _Pellegrina_.]

'You see 'tis high time,' said my father to my uncle Toby and Yorick, 'to take this young creature out of these women's hands, and put him into those of a private tutor. Marcus Antoninus had fourteen tutors at once to superintend his son Commodus's education, and in six weeks he dismissed five of them. I think that those five whom he dismissed did Commodus's temper, in that short time, more hurt than the other nine were able to rectify all their lives long. 'Now, when I consider the person who is to teach my son as the mirror in which my son will view himself from morning to night, and by which he is to adjust his looks, his demeanour, and perhaps the inmost sentiments of his heart; - I would like one, Yorick, polished at all points, fit for my child to look into.' 'This is very good sense,' quoth my uncle Toby to himself. 'There is,' continued my father, 'a certain mien and motion of the body, both in acting and speaking, which denotes a man is good within; and I am not surprised that Gregory of Nazianzum, upon observing the hasty gestures of Julian, should foretell he would one day become a heretic; or that St. Ambrose should turn his assistant out of doors, because of an indecent motion of his head, which went backwards and forwards like a flail. There are a thousand unnoticed openings which let a penetrating eye into a man's soul; and I maintain that a man does not so much as lay down his hat without revealing something of his nature. 'For these reasons, the tutor I choose shall neither lisp, squint, or wink, or talk loud, or look fierce, or foolish; - or bite his lips, or grind his teeth, or speak through his nose, or pick it, or blow it with his fingers. 'He shall neither walk fast, or slow, nor fold his arms, or hang them down, or hide them in his pocket. 'He shall neither strike, or pinch, or tickle; or bite, or cut his nails, or hawk, or spit, or sniff, or drum his feet or fingers in company; nor (according to Erasmus) shall he speak to any one in urinating, nor point to carrion or excrement.' 'Now this is all nonsense again,' quoth my uncle Toby to himself. 'I will have him,' continued my father, 'cheerful and jovial; at the same time, prudent, vigilant, acute, inventive, quick in resolving doubts; - he shall be wise, judicious, and learned.' 'And why not humble, and moderate, and gentle-tempered and good?' said Yorick. 'And why not,' cried my uncle Toby, 'generous, and bountiful, and brave?' 'He shall be, my dear Toby,' replied my father, getting up to shake his hand. 'Then, brother Shandy,' answered my uncle, 'I humbly beg to recommend poor Le Fever's son to you.' A tear of joy sparkled in my uncle Toby's eye, and another in the corporal's, as the proposition was made - you will see why when you read Le Fever's story. - Fool that I am! I cannot recollect what it was that hindered me from letting the corporal tell it in his own words; but I must tell it now in my own.

Tristram Shandy

Book 6 - Chapter 5

The sun looked bright the morning after, to every eye in the village but _Le Fever's_ and his afflicted son's; the hand of death press'd heavy upon his eye-lids, ----and hardly could the wheel at the cistern turn round its circle, --when my uncle _Toby_, who had rose up an hour before his wonted time, entered the lieutenant's room, and without preface or apology, sat himself down upon the chair by the bed-side, and, independently of all modes and customs, opened the curtain in the manner an old friend and brother officer would have done it, and asked him how he did, --how he had rested in the night, --what was his complaint, --where was his pain, --and what he could do to help him: ----and without giving him time to answer any one of the enquiries, went on, and told him of the little plan which he had been concerting with the corporal the night before for him.---- ----You shall go home directly, _Le Fever_, said my uncle _Toby_, to my house, --and we'll send for a doctor to see what's the matter, --and we'll have an apothecary, --and the corporal shall be your nurse; ----and I'll be your servant, _Le Fever_. There was a frankness in my uncle _Toby_, --not the _effect_ of familiarity, --but the _cause_ of it, --which let you at once into his soul, and shewed you the goodness of his nature; to this, there was something in his looks, and voice, and manner, superadded, which eternally beckoned to the unfortunate to come and take shelter under him; so that before my uncle _Toby_ had half finished the kind offers he was making to the father, had the son insensibly pressed up close to his knees, and had taken hold of the breast of his coat, and was pulling it towards him. ----The blood and spirits of _Le Fever_, which were waxing cold and slow within him, and were retreating to their last citadel, the heart--rallied back, --the film forsook his eyes for a moment, --he looked up wishfully in my uncle _Toby's_ face, --then cast a look upon his boy, ----and that _ligament_, fine as it was, --was never broken.------ Nature instantly ebb'd again, --the film returned to its place, ----the pulse fluttered----stopp'd----went on----throbb'd----stopp'd again----moved----stopp'd----shall I go on? ----No.

The sun looked bright the morning after, to every eye in the village but Le Fever's; the hand of death pressed heavy upon his eye-lids. My uncle Toby entered the lieutenant's room, and without preface or apology sat down upon the chair by the bed-side, opened the curtain in the manner of an old friend and brother officer, and asked him how he did, - how he had rested, - where was his pain, - what he could do to help him: and without giving him time to answer any of the enquiries, went on, and told him of the little plan which he had made. 'You shall go to my house, Le Fever,' said my uncle Toby, 'and we'll send for a doctor, and an apothecary; and the corporal shall be your nurse - and I'll be your servant, Le Fever.' There was a frankness in my uncle Toby - not the effect of familiarity, but the cause of it - which let you at once into his soul, and showed you the goodness of his nature. Additionally, there was something in his looks, and voice, and manner, which beckoned to the unfortunate to come and take shelter under him; so that before my uncle Toby had half finished his kind offers to the father, the son had pressed up close to him, and had taken hold of his coat. The blood and spirits of Le Fever, which were growing cold and slow within him, and were retreating to their last citadel, the heart, rallied back. The film left his eyes for a moment: he looked up wishfully in my uncle Toby's face, then at his boy; and that look was never broken. Nature instantly ebbed again, - the film returned - the pulse fluttered - stopped - went on - stopped again - moved - stopped - shall I go on? No.

Tristram Shandy

Book 6 - Chapter 10: THE STORY OF LE FEVER CONTINUED

Tho' my father was a good natural philosopher, --yet he was something of a moral philosopher too; for which reason, when his tobacco-pipe snapp'd short in the middle, --he had nothing to do, as such, but to have taken hold of the two pieces, and thrown them gently upon the back of the fire. ----He did no such thing; ----he threw them with all the violence in the world; --and, to give the action still more emphasis, --he started upon both his legs to do it. This looked something like heat; --and the manner of his reply to what my uncle _Toby_ was saying, proved it was so. --"Not choose," quoth my father, (repeating my uncle _Toby's_ words) "to let a man come so near her!" ----By Heaven, brother _Toby!_ you would try the patience of _Job_; --and I think I have the plagues of one already without it. ----Why? ----Where? ----Wherein? ----Wherefore? ----Upon what account? replied my uncle _Toby_, in the utmost astonishment. --To think, said my father, of a man living to your age, brother, and knowing so little about women! ----I know nothing at all about them, --replied my uncle _Toby_: And I think, continued he, that the shock I received the year after the demolition of _Dunkirk_, in my affair with widow _Wadman_; --which shock you know I should not have received, but from my total ignorance of the sex, --has given me just cause to say, That I neither know nor do pretend to know anything about 'em or their concerns either. --Methinks, brother, replied my father, you might, at least, know so much as the right end of a woman from the wrong. It is said in _Aristotle's_ _Master Piece_, "That when a man doth think of anything which is past, ----he looketh down upon the ground; ----but that when he thinketh of something that is to come, he looketh up towards the heavens." My uncle _Toby_, I suppose, thought of neither, for he look'd horizontally. --Right end! quoth my uncle _Toby_, muttering the two words low to himself, and fixing his two eyes insensibly as he muttered them, upon a small crevice, formed by a bad joint in the chimney-piece ----Right end of a woman! ----I declare, quoth my uncle, I know no more which it is than the man in the moon; ----and if I was to think, continued my uncle _Toby_ (keeping his eye still fixed upon the bad joint) this month together, I am sure I should not be able to find it out. Then, brother _Toby_, replied my father, I will tell you. Everything in this world, continued my father (filling a fresh pipe)--every thing in this world, my dear brother _Toby_, has two handles. ----Not always, quoth my uncle _Toby_. ----At least, replied my father, everyone has two hands, ----which comes to the same thing. ----Now, if a man was to sit down coolly, and consider within himself the make, the shape, the construction, come-at-ability, and convenience of all the parts which constitute the whole of that animal, called Woman, and compare them analogically ----I never understood rightly the meaning of that word, --quoth my uncle _Toby_.-- ANALOGY, replied my father, is the certain relation and agreement which different ----Here a devil of a rap at the door snapped my father's definition (like his tobacco-pipe) in two, --and, at the same time, crushed the head of as notable and curious a dissertation as ever was engendered in the womb of speculation; --it was some months before my father could get an opportunity to be safely delivered of it: --And, at this hour, it is a thing full as problematical as the subject of the dissertation itself, --(considering the confusion and distresses of our domestick misadventures, which are now coming thick one upon the back of another) whether I shall be able to find a place for it in the third volume or not.

When my father's tobacco-pipe snapped in the middle, he stood up and threw the pieces violently into the fire. 'Not choose,' quoth he, (repeating my uncle Toby's words) 'to let a man come so near her! - By Heaven, brother Toby! you would try the patience of Job.' 'Why?' replied my uncle in astonishment. 'To think,' said my father, 'of a man living to your age, and knowing so little about women!' 'I know nothing at all about them,' replied my uncle Toby. 'And I think that the shock I received the year after the demolition of Dunkirk, in my affair with widow Wadman - which shock you know was caused by my total ignorance of the sex - makes me say, that I do not pretend to know anything about 'em or their concerns.' 'Methinks, brother,' replied my father, 'you might, at least, know the right end of a woman from the wrong.' Aristotle says that when a man thinks of anything which is past, he looks down upon the ground; but when he thinks of something that is to come, he looks up. My uncle Toby, I suppose, thought of neither, for he looked horizontally. 'Right end of a woman!' quoth he, muttering low, and fixing his eyes upon a crevice in the chimney-piece - 'I declare, I know no more which it is than the man in the moon.' 'Then, brother Toby,' replied my father, 'I will tell you. Everything in this world, my dear brother, has two handles.' 'Not always.' 'Everyone has two hands,' replied my father, - 'which comes to the same thing. Now, if a man was to sit down coolly, and consider the shape, the construction, come-at-ability, and convenience of all the parts which constitute a Woman, and compare them analogically-' 'I never understood the meaning of that word,' quoth my uncle Toby. '-Analogy,' replied my father, 'is the certain relation which different-' Here a loud rap at the door snapped my father's definition (like his tobacco-pipe) in two, and, at the same time, crushed the head of a notable dissertation; - it was some months before my father could complete it. And it is problematical (considering the confusion of our domestic misadventures, now coming thick and fast) whether or not I shall be able to find a place for it in my third volume.

Tristram Shandy

Book 2 - Chapter 7

When we have got to the end of this chapter (but not before) we must all turn back to the two blank chapters, on the account of which my honour has lain bleeding this half hour ----I stop it, by pulling off one of my yellow slippers and throwing it with all my violence to the opposite side of my room, with a declaration at the heel of it---- ----That whatever resemblance it may bear to half the chapters which are written in the world, or for aught I know may be now writing in it--that it was as casual as the foam of _Zeuxis_ his horse; besides, I look upon a chapter which has _only nothing in it_, with respect; and considering what worse things there are in the world ----That it is no way a proper subject for satire------ ----Why then was it left so? And here without staying for my reply, shall I be called as many blockheads, numsculs, doddypoles, dunderheads, ninny-hammers, goosecaps, joltheads, nincompoops, and sh- -t-a-beds---- and other unsavoury appellations, as ever the cake-bakers of _Lern_ cast in the teeth of King _Garangantan's_ shepherds ----And I'll let them do it, as _Bridget_ said, as much as they please; for how was it possible they should foresee the necessity I was under of writing the 25th chapter of my book, before the 18th, &c.? ------So I don't take it amiss ----All I wish is, that it may be a lesson to the world, "_to let people tell their stories their own way_."

When we have got to the end of this chapter (but not before) we must turn back to the two blank chapters, on the account of which my honour has lain bleeding this half hour. - I stop it by pulling off one of my yellow slippers and throwing it violently across my room, with a declaration at the heel of it- - That any resemblance it may bear to half the chapters which are written in the world is of no consequence; besides, I look upon a chapter which has nothing in it, with respect. Considering what worse things there are in the world, it is no way a proper subject for satire- - Why then was it left so? And without waiting for my reply, shall I be called blockhead, numbskull, doddypole, dunderhead, ninny-hammer, nincompoop, sh_t-a-bed, and as many other unsavoury names as ever the cake-bakers of Lern called King Garangantan's shepherds - and I'll let them do it, as Bridget said, as much as they please; for how could they foresee that I needed to write the 25th chapter of my book before the 18th? So I don't take it amiss. I merely wish that it may be a lesson to the world, 'to let people tell their stories their own way.'

Tristram Shandy

Book 9 - Chapter 25

There was not any one scene more entertaining in our family--and to do it justice in this point; ----and I here put off my cap and lay it upon the table close beside my ink-horn, on purpose to make my declaration to the world concerning this one article the more solemn----that I believe in my soul (unless my love and partiality to my understanding blinds me) the hand of the supreme Maker and first Designer of all things never made or put a family together (in that period at least of it which I have sat down to write the story of)----where the characters of it were cast or contrasted with so dramatick a felicity as ours was, for this end; or in which the capacities of affording such exquisite scenes, and the powers of shifting them perpetually from morning to night, were lodged and intrusted with so unlimited a confidence, as in the SHANDY FAMILY. Not any one of these was more diverting, I say, in this whimsical theatre of ours----than what frequently arose out of this self-same chapter of long noses------especially when my father's imagination was heated with the enquiry, and nothing would serve him but to heat my uncle _Toby's_ too. My uncle _Toby_ would give my father all possible fair play in this attempt; and with infinite patience would sit smoaking his pipe for whole hours together, whilst my father was practising upon his head, and trying every accessible avenue to drive _Prignitz_ and _Scroderus's_ solutions into it. Whether they were above my uncle _Toby's_ reason------or contrary to it------or that his brain was like _damp_ timber, and no spark could possibly take hold----or that it was so full of saps, mines, blinds, curtins, and such military disqualifications to his seeing clearly into _Prignitz_ and _Scroderus's_ doctrines ----I say not--let schoolmen--scullions, anatomists, and engineers, fight for it among themselves---- 'Twas some misfortune, I make no doubt, in this affair, that my father had every word of it to translate for the benefit of my uncle _Toby_, and render out of _Slawkenbergius's_ _Latin_, of which, as he was no great master, his translation was not always of the purest----and generally least so where 'twas most wanted. --This naturally open'd a door to a second misfortune; ----that in the warmer paroxysms of his zeal to open my uncle _Toby's_ eyes------my father's ideas ran on as much faster than the translation, as the translation outmoved my uncle _Toby's_------ neither the one or the other added much to the perspicuity of my father's lecture.

There was no scene more entertaining in our family - and I believe the supreme Maker never put a family together whose characters were contrasted with so dramatic a felicity as ours; or which afforded such exquisite scenes, as in the Shandy Family. None of these was more diverting, I say, in this whimsical theatre of ours - than what frequently arose out of this chapter of long noses - especially when my father's imagination was heated with the enquiry, and nothing would serve him but to heat my uncle Toby's too. My uncle Toby, with infinite patience, would sit smoking his pipe for hours, whilst my father was trying every way to drive Prignitz and Scroderus into his head. Whether they were above my uncle Toby's reason - or whether his brain was like damp timber, where no spark could possibly take hold - or that it was so full of saps, mines, curtins, and such military obstacles, I say not. 'Twas unfortunate, no doubt, that my father had to translate every word for my uncle's benefit; and as my father was no great master of Latin, his translation of Slawkenbergius was not always of the purest. This naturally opened a door to a second misfortune; that in his zeal to persuade my uncle Toby, my father's ideas ran on as much faster than the translation, as the translation outran my uncle Toby: which added little to the clarity of my father's lecture.

Tristram Shandy

Book 3 - Chapter 39

Every day for at least ten years together did my father resolve to have it mended--'tis not mended yet; --no family but ours would have borne with it an hour----and what is most astonishing, there was not a subject in the world upon which my father was so eloquent, as upon that of door-hinges. ----And yet at the same time, he was certainly one of the greatest bubbles to them, I think, that history can produce: his rhetorick and conduct were at perpetual handy-cuffs. --Never did the parlour-door open--but his philosophy or his principles fell a victim to it; ----three drops of oil with a feather, and a smart stroke of a hammer, had saved his honour for ever. ----Inconsistent soul that man is! ----languishing under wounds, which he has the power to heal! --his whole life a contradiction to his knowledge! --his reason, that precious gift of God to him--(instead of pouring in oil) serving but to sharpen his sensibilities--to multiply his pains, and render him more melancholy and uneasy under them --Poor unhappy creature, that he should do so! ----Are not the necessary causes of misery in this life enow, but he must add voluntary ones to his stock of sorrow; --struggle against evils which cannot be avoided, and submit to others, which a tenth part of the trouble they create him would remove from his heart for ever? By all that is good and virtuous, if there are three drops of oil to be got, and a hammer to be found within ten miles of _Shandy Hall_------the parlour door hinge shall be mended this reign.

Every day for at least ten years my father resolved to have it mended - 'tis not mended yet; no other family would have borne with it an hour - and what is most astonishing, there was not a subject in the world upon which my father was so eloquent, as that of door-hinges. And yet his speech and actions were at perpetual handy-cuffs. Never did the parlour-door open, without his philosophy felling victim to it; yet three drops of oil, and a smart stroke of a hammer, would have solved it for ever. Inconsistent soul that man is! languishing under wounds which he has the power to heal! - his whole life a contradiction to his knowledge! Poor unhappy creature! Are there not enough causes of misery in this life? Yet he adds more; he struggles against evils which cannot be avoided, and submits to others, which a tiny effort would remove. By all that is virtuous, if there are three drops of oil to be got, and a hammer to be found within ten miles of Shandy Hall - the parlour door hinge shall be mended in this reign.

Tristram Shandy

Book 3 - Chapter 21

Did ever man, brother _Toby_, cried my father, raising himself upon his elbow, and turning himself round to the opposite side of the bed, where my uncle _Toby_ was sitting in his old fringed chair, with his chin resting upon his crutch----did ever a poor unfortunate man, brother _Toby_, cried my father, receive so many lashes? ----The most I ever saw given, quoth my uncle _Toby_ (ringing the bell at the bed's head for _Trim_) was to a grenadier, I think in _Mackay's_ regiment. ------Had my uncle _Toby_ shot a bullet through my father's heart, he could not have fallen down with his nose upon the quilt more suddenly. Bless me! said my uncle _Toby_.

'Did ever man, brother Toby,' cried my father, raising himself upon his elbow, and turning to face my uncle, who was sitting in his old fringed chair, with his chin resting upon his crutch - 'did ever a poor unfortunate man receive so many lashes?' 'The most I ever saw given,' quoth my uncle Toby (ringing the bell for Trim) 'was to a grenadier, I think in Mackay's regiment.' Had my uncle Toby shot a bullet through my father's heart, he could not have fallen down with his nose upon the quilt more suddenly. 'Bless me!' said my uncle Toby.

Tristram Shandy

Book 4 - Chapter 3

As there are fifty different ends (counting all ends in----as well civil as religious) for which a woman takes a husband, she first sets about and carefully weighs, then separates and distinguishes in her mind, which of all that number of ends is hers: then by discourse, enquiry, argumentation, and inference, she investigates and finds out whether she has got hold of the right one----and if she has----then, by pulling it gently this way and that way, she further forms a judgment, whether it will not break in the drawing. The imagery under which _Slawkenbergius_ impresses this upon the reader's fancy, in the beginning of his third Decad, is so ludicrous, that the honour I bear the sex, will not suffer me to quote it----otherwise it is not destitute of humour. "She first, saith _Slawkenbergius_, stops the asse, and holding his halter in her left hand (lest he should get away) she thrusts her right hand into the very bottom of his pannier to search for it --For what? --you'll not know the sooner, quoth _Slawkenbergius_, for interrupting me---- "I have nothing, good Lady, but empty bottles;" says the asse. "I'm loaded with tripes;" says the second. ----And thou art little better, quoth she to the third; for nothing is there in thy panniers but trunk-hose and pantofles--and so to the fourth and fifth, going on one by one through the whole string, till coming to the asse which carries it, she turns the pannier upside down, looks at it--considers it--samples it--measures it--stretches it--wets it--dries it--then takes her teeth both to the warp and weft of it. ----Of what? for the love of Christ! I am determined, answered _Slawkenbergius_, that all the powers upon earth shall never wring that secret from my breast.

As there are fifty different ends for which a woman takes a husband, she first carefully weighs them all: then by discourse, enquiry, and inference, she investigates whether she has got hold of the right one - and if she has - then, by pulling it gently this way and that, she decides whether or not it will not break. The imagery under which Slawkenbergius impresses this upon the reader's fancy, in the beginning of his third Decad, is so ludicrous that the honour I bear the sex, will not allow me to quote it. 'She first,' saith Slawkenbergius, 'stops the ass, and holding his halter in her left hand (lest he should get away) she thrusts her right hand into the very bottom of his pannier to search for it.' 'For what?' 'You'll not know the sooner,' quoth Slawkenbergius, 'for interrupting me. - "I have nothing, good Lady, but empty bottles," says the first ass. '"I'm loaded with tripes;" says the second. '"And thou art little better," quoth she to the third; "for there is nothing in thy panniers but trunk-hose and slippers" - and so to the fourth and fifth, going through the whole string of asses, till coming to the ass which carries it, she turns the pannier upside down, looks at it - considers it - measures it - stretches it - wets it - dries it - then takes her teeth to the warp and weft of it.' - Of what? for the love of Christ! 'I am determined,' answered Slawkenbergius, 'that all the powers upon earth shall never wring that secret from my breast.'

Tristram Shandy

Book 9 - Chapter 21

I know there are readers in the world, as well as many other good people in it, who are no readers at all, who find themselves ill at ease, unless they are let into the whole secret from first to last, of everything which concerns you. It is in pure compliance with this humour of theirs, and from a backwardness in my nature to disappoint any one soul living, that I have been so very particular already. As my life and opinions are likely to make some noise in the world, and, if I conjecture right, will take in all ranks, professions, and denominations of men whatever, --be no less read than the _Pilgrim's Progress_ itself--and in the end, prove the very thing which _Montaigne_ dreaded his Essays should turn out, that is, a book for a parlour-window; --I find it necessary to consult every one a little in his turn; and therefore must beg pardon for going on a little farther in the same way: For which cause, right glad I am, that I have begun the history of myself in the way I have done; and that I am able to go on, tracing everything in it, as _Horace_ says, _ab Ovo_. _Horace_, I know, does not recommend this fashion altogether: But that gentleman is speaking only of an epic poem or a tragedy; --(I forget which), --besides, if it was not so, I should beg Mr. _Horace's_ pardon; --for in writing what I have set about, I shall confine myself neither to his rules, nor to any man's rules that ever lived. To such, however, as do not choose to go so far back into these things, I can give no better advice, than that they skip over the remaining part of this chapter; for I declare before-hand, 'tis wrote only for the curious and inquisitive. ------------Shut the door. -------------------------------------- I was begot in the night, betwixt the first _Sunday_ and the first _Monday_ in the month of _March_, in the year of our Lord one thousand seven hundred and eighteen. I am positive I was. --But how I came to be so very particular in my account of a thing which happened before I was born, is owing to another small anecdote known only in our own family, but now made publick for the better clearing up this point. My father, you must know, who was originally a _Turkey_ merchant, but had left off business for some years, in order to retire to, and die upon, his paternal estate in the county of ------, was, I believe, one of the most regular men in everything he did, whether 'twas matter of business, or matter of amusement, that ever lived. As a small specimen of this extreme exactness of his, to which he was in truth a slave, --he had made it a rule for many years of his life, --on the first _Sunday-night_ of every month throughout the whole year, --as certain as ever the _Sunday-night_ came, ----to wind up a large house-clock, which we had standing on the back-stairs head, with his own hands: --And being somewhere between fifty and sixty years of age at the time I have been speaking of, --he had likewise gradually brought some other little family concernments to the same period, in order, as he would often say to my uncle _Toby_, to get them all out of the way at one time, and be no more plagued and pestered with them the rest of the month. It was attended but with one misfortune, which, in a great measure, fell upon myself, and the effects of which I fear I shall carry with me to my grave; namely, that from an unhappy association of ideas, which have no connection in nature, it so fell out at length, that my poor mother could never hear the said clock wound up, ----but the thoughts of some other things unavoidably popped into her head--and _vice vers_: ----Which strange combination of ideas, the sagacious _Locke_, who certainly understood the nature of these things better than most men, affirms to have produced more wry actions than all other sources of prejudice whatsoever. But this by the bye. Now it appears by a memorandum in my father's pocket-book, which now lies upon the table, "That on _Lady-day_, which was on the 25th of the same month in which I date my geniture, ----my father set out upon his journey to _London_, with my eldest brother _Bobby_, to fix him at _Westminster_ school;" and, as it appears from the same authority, "That he did not get down to his wife and family till the _second week_ in _May_ following," --it brings the thing almost to a certainty. However, what follows in the beginning of the next chapter, puts it beyond all possibility of doubt. ------But pray, Sir, What was your father doing all _December_, _January_, and _February?_ ----Why, Madam, --he was all that time afflicted with a Sciatica.

I know there are readers who find themselves ill at ease unless they are let into the whole secret, from first to last, of everything which concerns you. It is in order not to disappoint them that I have been so very particular already. As my life and opinions are likely to make some noise in the world, and will be no less read than the Pilgrim's Progress itself, I must beg pardon for going on a little further in the same way. Right glad I am, that I have begun the history of myself like this; tracing everything, as Horace says, ab Ovo, or from the Egg. Horace, I know, does not recommend this fashion altogether: but he is speaking of an epic poem or a tragedy (I forget which); - besides, begging Mr. Horace's pardon, I shall confine myself neither to his rules, nor to any other man's. To those, however, who do not choose to go so far back, I can only advise that they skip over the rest of this chapter; for 'tis wrote only for the curious and inquisitive. ------Shut the door. ----- I was begot in the night betwixt the first Sunday and the first Monday of March, 1718. I am positive I was, owing to another small anecdote known only in our family, but now made public to clear up this point. My father, you must know, who was originally a Turkey merchant trading with the Levant, had left off business for some years, in order to retire to his estate in the country. He was, I believe, one of the most regular men that ever lived in everything he did, whether business, or amusement. For example, he had made it a rule for many years, on the first Sunday-night of every month, to wind up a large clock which we had standing on the back-stairs. And being somewhere between fifty and sixty years of age at the time, he had likewise gradually brought some other little marital concerns to the same day - in order, as he would often say to my uncle Toby, to get them all out of the way at the same time, and be no more plagued and pestered with them the rest of the month. The arrangement brought with it one misfortune, the effects of which I fear I shall carry with me to my grave; namely, that from an unhappy association of ideas, at length my poor mother could never hear the said clock being wound up, without the thoughts of some other things unavoidably popping into her head - and vice versa. Now it appears by a memorandum in my father's pocket-book, which now lies upon the table, that on the 25th of the month in which I was conceived, my father set out to London with my elder brother Bobby, to fix him at Westminster school; and, as it appears from the same book that he did not return to his wife and family till the second week in May, it makes the thing almost certain. However, what follows in the beginning of the next chapter, puts it beyond all doubt. - But pray, Sir, What was your father doing all December, January, and February? - Why, Madam, he was all that time afflicted with a Sciatica.

Tristram Shandy

Book 1 - Chapter 4

What a vast advantage is travelling! only it heats one; but there is a remedy for that, which you may pick out of the next chapter.

What a vast advantage is travelling! only it heats one; but there is a remedy for that, which you will pick out of the next chapter.

Tristram Shandy

Book 7 - Chapter 11

"_Make them like unto a wheel_," is a bitter sarcasm, as all the learned know, against the _grand tour_, and that restless spirit for making it, which _David_ prophetically foresaw would haunt the children of men in the latter days; and therefore, as thinketh the great bishop _Hall_, 'tis one of the severest imprecations which _David_ ever utter'd against the enemies of the Lord--and, as if he had said, "I wish them no worse luck than always to be rolling about" --So much motion, continues he (for he was very corpulent)--is so much unquietness; and so much of rest, by the same analogy, is so much of heaven. Now, I (being very thin) think differently; and that so much of motion, is so much of life, and so much of joy----and that to stand still, or get on but slowly, is death and the devil---- Hollo! Ho! ----the whole world's asleep! ----bring out the horses----grease the wheels--tie on the mail----and drive a nail into that moulding ----I'll not lose a moment---- Now the wheel we are talking of, and _whereinto_ (but not _whereunto_, for that would make an Ixion's wheel of it) he curseth his enemies, according to the bishop's habit of body, should certainly be a post-chaise wheel, whether they were set up in _Palestine_ at that time or not----and my wheel, for the contrary reasons, must as certainly be a cart-wheel groaning round its revolution once in an age; and of which sort, were I to turn commentator, I should make no scruple to affirm, they had great store in that hilly country. I love the Pythagoreans (much more than ever I dare tell my dear _Jenny_) for their " , "---- [their] "_getting out of the body, in order to think well_." No man thinks right, whilst he is in it; blinded as he must be, with his congenial humours, and drawn differently aside, as the bishop and myself have been, with too lax or too tense a fibre ----REASON is, half of it, SENSE; and the measure of heaven itself is but the measure of our present appetites and concoctions---- ----But which of the two, in the present case, do you think to be mostly in the wrong? You, certainly: quoth she, to disturb a whole family so early.

'Make them like unto a wheel' is a bitter sarcasm, as all the learned know, against the grand tour, and the restless spirit for making it, which David foresaw would haunt the children of men; and therefore, (thinks the great bishop Hall), 'tis one of the severest imprecations which David ever uttered against the enemies of the Lord. For motion, says he, is unquietness; and rest is heavenly. Now, I think differently; that motion is so much of life, and joy - and that to stand still, or move slowly, is death and the devil- Hollo! the whole world's asleep! - bring out the horses - grease the wheels - tie on the mail - I'll not lose a moment- Now the wheel we are talking of, with which he curseth his enemies, should certainly be a post-chaise wheel, whether they had them in Palestine at that time or not - and my wheel must as certainly be a cart-wheel groaning round once in an age; and of which I dare say they had great store in that hilly country. I love the Pythagoreans (much more than ever I dare tell my dear Jenny) for their 'getting out of the body, in order to think well.' No man thinks right, whilst he is in it; blinded as he must be, with his humours, and either too lax or too tense. - Reason is half Sensation; and the measure of heaven itself is but the measure of our present appetites- - But which of the two do you think to be mostly in the wrong? 'You, certainly,' quoth she, 'to disturb a whole family so early.'

Tristram Shandy

Book 7 - Chapter 13

In love! ----said the corporal--your honour was very well the day before yesterday, when I was telling your honour the story of the King of _Bohemia_--_Bohemia!_ said my uncle _Toby_ - - - - musing a long time - - - What became of that story, _Trim?_ --We lost it, an' please your honour, somehow betwixt us--but your honour was as free from love then, as I am----'twas just whilst thou went'st off with the wheel-barrow----with Mrs. _Wadman_, quoth my uncle _Toby_ ----She has left a ball here--added my uncle _Toby_--pointing to his breast---- ----She can no more, an' please your honour, stand a siege, than she can fly--cried the corporal---- ----But as we are neighbours, _Trim_, --the best way I think is to let her know it civilly first--quoth my uncle _Toby_. Now if I might presume, said the corporal, to differ from your honour---- --Why else do I talk to thee, _Trim?_ said my uncle _Toby_, mildly---- --Then I would begin, an' please your honour, with making a good thundering attack upon her, in return--and telling her civilly afterwards--for if she knows anything of your honour's being in love, before hand ----L--d help her! --she knows no more at present of it, _Trim_, said my uncle _Toby_--than the child unborn------ Precious souls!------ Mrs. _Wadman_ had told it, with all its circumstances, to Mrs. _Bridget_ twenty-four hours before; and was at that very moment sitting in council with her, touching some slight misgivings with regard to the issue of the affairs, which the Devil, who never lies dead in a ditch, had put into her head--before he would allow half time, to get quietly through her _Te Deum_. I am terribly afraid, said widow _Wadman_, in case I should marry him, _Bridget_--that the poor captain will not enjoy his health, with the monstrous wound upon his groin---- It may not, Madam, be so very large, replied _Bridget_, as you think----and I believe, besides, added she--that 'tis dried up---- ----I could like to know--merely for his sake, said Mrs. _Wadman_---- --We'll know the long and the broad of it, in ten days--answered Mrs. _Bridget_, for whilst the captain is paying his addresses to you --I'm confident Mr. _Trim_ will be for making love to me--and I'll let him as much as he will--added _Bridget_--to get it all out of him---- The measures were taken at once----and my uncle _Toby_ and the corporal went on with theirs. Now, quoth the corporal, setting his left hand a-kimbo, and giving such a flourish with his right, as just promised success--and no more----if your honour will give me leave to lay down the plan of this attack---- ----Thou wilt please me by it, _Trim_, said my uncle _Toby_, exceedingly--and as I foresee thou must act in it as my _aid de camp_, here's a crown, corporal, to begin with, to steep thy commission. Then, an' please your honour, said the corporal (making a bow first for his commission)--we will begin with getting your honour's laced cloaths out of the great campaign-trunk, to be well air'd, and have the blue and gold taken up at the sleeves--and I'll put your white ramallie-wig fresh into pipes--and send for a taylor, to have your honour's thin scarlet breeches turn'd---- --I had better take the red plush ones, quoth my uncle _Toby_ ----They will be too clumsy--said the corporal.

'In love!' said the corporal. 'Your honour was very well the day before yesterday, when I was telling you the story of the King of Bohemia.' 'Bohemia!' said my uncle Toby, musing. 'What became of that story, Trim?' 'We lost it, your honour, somehow - but your honour was as free from love then, as I am.' ''Twas whilst thou went'st off with the wheel-barrow. Mrs. Wadman has left a ball here,' quoth my uncle Toby, pointing to his breast. 'She can no more withstand a siege, than she can fly,' cried the corporal. 'But as we are neighbours, Trim, I think it best to let her know it civilly first,' quoth my uncle Toby. 'If I might presume to differ from your honour - I would begin with making a good thundering attack upon her, in return - and telling her civilly afterwards. For if she knows anything of your honour's being in love, beforehand-' 'L__d help her! she knows no more of it,' said my uncle Toby, 'than the child unborn.' Precious souls! Mrs. Wadman had told it, with all its circumstances, to Bridget twenty-four hours before; and was at that very moment consulting her about some slight misgivings which the Devil, who never lies dead in a ditch, had put into her head. 'I am terribly afraid,' said widow Wadman, 'that if I should marry him, Bridget, the poor captain will not enjoy good health, with the monstrous wound upon his groin.' 'It may not be so very large,' replied Bridget, 'as you think, Madam. I believe, besides, that 'tis dried up.' 'I would like to know - merely for his sake,' said Mrs. Wadman. 'We'll know the long and the broad of it in ten days,' answered Bridget; 'for whilst the captain is paying his addresses to you, I'm confident Mr. Trim will be for making love to me - and I'll let him, to get it all out of him.' These measures were taken. Meanwhile, my uncle Toby and the corporal went on with theirs. 'Now,' quoth the corporal, one arm a-kimbo, 'if your honour will give me leave to lay down the plan of this attack-' 'That will please me exceedingly,' said my uncle Toby, 'and as thou must act as my aid de camp, here's a crown for thy commission.' 'Then, your honour,' said the corporal, making a bow, 'we will begin with getting your honour's laced clothes out of the campaign-trunk, and have the blue and gold taken up at the sleeves - and I'll put your white wig fresh into pipes - and send for a tailor, to have your honour's thin scarlet breeches turned-' 'I had better take the red plush ones,' quoth my uncle Toby. 'They will be too clumsy,' said the corporal.

Tristram Shandy

Book 8 - Chapter 28

Crack, crack----crack, crack----crack, crack----so this is _Paris!_ quoth I (continuing in the same mood)--and this is _Paris!_----humph! ----_Paris!_ cried I, repeating the name the third time---- The first, the finest, the most brilliant---- The streets however are nasty. But it looks, I suppose, better than it smells----crack, crack----crack, crack----what a fuss thou makest! --as if it concerned the good people to be informed, that a man with pale face and clad in black, had the honour to be driven into _Paris_ at nine o'clock at night, by a postilion in a tawny yellow jerkin, turned up with red calamanco--crack, crack----crack, crack----crack, crack, ----I wish thy whip---- ----But 'tis the spirit of thy nation; so crack--crack on. Ha! ----and no one gives the wall! ----but in the SCHOOL of URBANITY herself, if the walls are besh-t--how can you do otherwise? And prithee when do they light the lamps? What? --never in the summer months! ----Ho! 'tis the time of sallads. ----O rare! sallad and soup--soup and sallad--sallad and soup, _encore_---- ----'Tis _too much_ for sinners. Now I cannot bear the barbarity of it; how can that unconscionable coachman talk so much bawdy to that lean horse? don't you see, friend, the streets are so villainously narrow, that there is not room in all _Paris_ to turn a wheelbarrow? In the grandest city of the whole world, it would not have been amiss, if they had been left a thought wider; nay, were it only so much in every single street, as that a man might know (was it only for satisfaction) on which side of it he was walking. One--two--three--four--five--six--seven--eight--nine--ten. --Ten cook's shops! and twice the number of barbers! and all within three minutes driving! one would think that all the cooks in the world, on some great merry-meeting with the barbers, by joint consent had said --Come, let us all go live at _Paris_: the _French_ love good eating----they are all _gourmands_----we shall rank high; if their god is their belly----their cooks must be gentlemen: and forasmuch as _the periwig maketh the man_, and the periwig-maker maketh the periwig--_ergo_, would the barbers say, we shall rank higher still--we shall be above you all--we shall be _Capitouls_[7.2] at least--_pardi!_ we shall all wear swords---- --And so, one would swear (that is, by candle light, --but there is no depending upon it) they continue to do, to this day. [Footnote 7.2: Chief Magistrate in Toulouse, &c. &c. &c.]

Crack, crack - crack, crack - crack, crack - 'so this is Paris!' quoth I (in the same mood). 'Humph! Paris! 'The first, the finest, the most brilliant- 'The streets however are nasty. 'But I suppose it looks better than it smells.' Crack, crack - crack, crack - what a fuss thou makest! as if the good people needed to be informed that a man with a pale face and clad in black was driven into Paris at nine o'clock by a postilion in a tawny yellow jerkin- Crack, crack - crack, crack - I wish thy whip- But 'tis the spirit of thy nation; so crack on. Ha! - and no one gives you space by the wall! but if the walls are besh _t, - how can you do otherwise? And prithee when do they light the lamps? What? never in the summer months! - Ho! 'tis the time of salads. O rare! salad and soup - soup and salad - salad and soup, encore- How can that coachman swear so lewdly to that lean horse? don't you see, friend, the streets are so villainously narrow, that there is not room to turn a wheelbarrow? In the grandest city of the world, it would not have been amiss if they had been a touch wider; if only so that a man in the street might know on which side of it he was walking. - Ten cooks' shops! and twenty barbers! all within three minutes' driving! one would think that all the cooks and barbers, by joint consent, had said 'Come, let us all go live at Paris: the French love good eating - we shall rank high; if their god is their belly - their cooks must be gentlemen: and as the periwig maketh the man, and the wig-maker maketh the periwig - therefore,' the barbers would say, 'we shall rank higher still, and all wear swords-' And one would swear they continue to do so, (as far as one can tell by candle-light,) to this day.

Tristram Shandy

Book 7 - Chapter 17

Fifty thousand pannier loads of devils--(not of the Archbishop of _Benevento's_, --I mean of _Rabelais's_ devils) with their tails chopped off by their rumps, could not have made so diabolical a scream of it, as I did--when the accident befel me: it summoned up my mother instantly into the nursery, --so that _Susannah_ had but just time to make her escape down the back stairs, as my mother came up the fore. Now, though I was old enough to have told the story myself, --and young enough, I hope, to have done it without malignity; yet _Susannah_, in passing by the kitchen, for fear of accidents, had left it in shorthand with the cook--the cook had told it with a commentary to _Jonathan_, and _Jonathan_ to _Obadiah_; so that by the time my father had rung the bell half a dozen times, to know what was the matter above, --was _Obadiah_ enabled to give him a particular account of it, just as it had happened. --I thought as much, said my father, tucking up his night-gown; --and so walked up stairs. One would imagine from this----(though for my own part I somewhat question it)--that my father, before that time, had actually wrote that remarkable character in the _Tristra-pdia_, which to me is the most original and entertaining one in the whole book; --and that is the _chapter upon sash-windows_, with a bitter _Philippick_ at the end of it, upon the forgetfulness of chamber-maids. --I have but two reasons for thinking otherwise. First, Had the matter been taken into consideration, before the event happened, my father certainly would have nailed up the sash window for good an' all; --which, considering with what difficulty he composed books, --he might have done with ten times less trouble, than he could have wrote the chapter: this argument I foresee holds good against his writing a chapter, even after the event; but 'tis obviated under the second reason, which I have the honour to offer to the world in support of my opinion, that my father did not write the chapter upon sash-windows and chamber-pots, at the time supposed, --and it is this. ----That, in order to render the _Tristra-pdia_ complete, --I wrote the chapter myself.

Fifty thousand pannier loads of devils with their tails chopped off could not have made so diabolical a scream, as I did when the accident befell me. It brought my mother instantly into the nursery, so that Susannah just had time to escape down the back stairs as my mother came up the front. Now, though I was old enough to have told the story myself, yet Susannah, in passing through the kitchen, had left it in shorthand with the cook - the cook had told it with a commentary to Jonathan, and Jonathan to Obadiah; so that by the time my father had rung the bell half a dozen times, to know what was the matter, Obadiah could give him an account of it, just as it had happened. 'I thought as much,' said my father, tucking up his night-gown, and walking up stairs. One might imagine from this that my father had already wrote that remarkable chapter in the Tristra-paedia, which to me is the most original and entertaining one in the whole book - and that is the chapter upon sash-windows, with a bitter tirade at the end of it, upon the forgetfulness of chamber-maids. I have just two reasons for thinking otherwise. First, had the matter been considered before the event happened, my father certainly would have nailed up the sash window; which, considering with what difficulty he composed books, he might have done with ten times less trouble than writing the chapter. However, this argument, though good, is made obsolete by the second reason which I offer in support of my opinion that my father did not write the chapter upon sash-windows and chamber-pots: and it is this. That, in order to make the Tristra-paedia complete, I wrote the chapter myself.

Tristram Shandy

Book 5 - Chapter 26

----That provision should be made for continuing the race of so great, so exalted and godlike a Being as man --I am far from denying--but philosophy speaks freely of everything; and therefore I still think and do maintain it to be a pity, that it should be done by means of a passion which bends down the faculties, and turns all the wisdom, contemplations, and operations of the soul backwards----a passion, my dear, continued my father, addressing himself to my mother, which couples and equals wise men with fools, and makes us come out of our caverns and hiding-places more like satyrs and four-footed beasts than men. I know it will be said, continued my father (availing himself of the _Prolepsis_), that in itself, and simply taken----like hunger, or thirst, or sleep----'tis an affair neither good or bad--or shameful or otherwise. ----Why then did the delicacy of _Diogenes_ and _Plato_ so recalcitrate against it? and wherefore, when we go about to make and plant a man, do we put out the candle? and for what reason is it, that all the parts thereof--the congredients--the preparations--the instruments, and whatever serves thereto, are so held as to be conveyed to a cleanly mind by no language, translation, or periphrasis whatever? ----The act of killing and destroying a man, continued my father, raising his voice--and turning to my uncle _Toby_--you see, is glorious--and the weapons by which we do it are honourable ----We march with them upon our shoulders ----We strut with them by our sides ----We gild them ----We carve them ----We in-lay them ----We enrich them ----Nay, if it be but a _scoundrel_ cannon, we cast an ornament upon the breach of it.-- ----My uncle _Toby_ laid down his pipe to intercede for a better epithet----and _Yorick_ was rising up to batter the whole hypothesis to pieces---- ----When _Obadiah_ broke into the middle of the room with a complaint, which cried out for an immediate hearing. The case was this: My father, whether by ancient custom of the manor, or as impropriator of the great tythes, was obliged to keep a Bull for the service of the Parish, and _Obadiah_ had led his cow upon a _pop-visit_ to him one day or other the preceding summer ----I say, one day or other--because as chance would have it, it was the day on which he was married to my father's housemaid----so one was a reckoning to the other. Therefore when _Obadiah's_ wife was brought to bed--_Obadiah_ thanked God---- ----Now, said _Obadiah_, I shall have a calf: so _Obadiah_ went daily to visit his cow. She'll calve on _Monday_--on _Tuesday_--on _Wednesday_ at the farthest---- The cow did not calve----no--she'll not calve till next week----the cow put it off terribly----till at the end of the sixth week _Obadiah's_ suspicions (like a good man's) fell upon the Bull. Now the parish being very large, my father's Bull, to speak the truth of him, was no way equal to the department; he had, however, got himself, somehow or other, thrust into employment--and as he went through the business with a grave face, my father had a high opinion of him. ----Most of the townsmen, an' please your worship, quoth _Obadiah_, believe that 'tis all the Bull's fault---- ----But may not a cow be barren? replied my father, turning to Doctor _Slop_. It never happens: said Dr. _Slop_, but the man's wife may have come before her time naturally enough ----Prithee has the child hair upon his head? --added Dr. _Slop_------ ----It is as hairy as I am; said _Obadiah_. ----_Obadiah_ had not been shaved for three weeks ----Wheu - - u - - - - u - - - - - - - - cried my father; beginning the sentence with an exclamatory whistle----and so, brother _Toby_, this poor Bull of mine, who is as good a Bull as ever p--ss'd, and might have done for _Europa_ herself in purer times----had he but two legs less, might have been driven into Doctors Commons and lost his character----which to a Town Bull, brother _Toby_, is the very same thing as his life------ L--d! said my mother, what is all this story about?---- A COCK and a BULL, said _Yorick_ ----And one of the best of its kind, I ever heard.

'That the race of so great, so exalted and godlike a Being as man should be continued, I am far from denying; but I think it a pity, that it should be done by means of a passion which bends down the faculties, and turns all the wisdom of the soul backwards - a passion, my dear,' continued my father, addressing himself to my mother, 'which couples and equals wise men with fools, and makes us come out of our caverns and hiding-places more like satyrs and four-footed beasts than men. 'I know it will be said,' continued my father, 'that in itself, and simply taken - like hunger, or thirst, or sleep - 'tis neither good or bad - neither shameful or otherwise. Why then did the delicacy of Diogenes and Plato so revolt against it? and why, when we are about to plant a child, do we put out the candle? and why are all the parts thereof held to be impossible to convey cleanly by any language or translation? 'The act of killing and destroying a man,' continued my father, raising his voice and turning to my uncle Toby, 'you see, is glorious - and the weapons by which we do it are honourable. - We march with them upon our shoulders - We strut with them by our sides - We gild them - We carve them - We inlay them; even a scoundrel cannon has an ornament cast upon its breach.' My uncle Toby laid down his pipe to intercede for a better epithet - and Yorick was rising up to batter the whole hypothesis to pieces- - When Obadiah burst into the room with a complaint which cried out for an immediate hearing. The case was this: My father, by ancient custom of the manor, was obliged to keep a Bull for the service of the Parish, and Obadiah had led his cow upon a pop-visit to him one day or other the preceding summer. I say, one day or other - because as chance would have it, it was the day on which he married my father's housemaid - so one was a reckoning for the other. Therefore when Obadiah's wife was brought to bed of a child, Obadiah thanked God. - 'Now,' said Obadiah, 'I shall have a calf:' so he went daily to visit his cow. 'She'll calve on Monday - on Tuesday - on Wednesday at the latest-' The cow did not calve. - 'no - she'll not calve till next week.' The cow put it off terribly - till at the end of the sixth week Obadiah's suspicions fell upon the Bull. Now the parish being very large, my father's Bull, to speak the truth, was not equal to the job; he had, however, got himself thrust into employment - and as he went through the business with a grave face, my father had a high opinion of him. 'Most of the townsmen,' quoth Obadiah, 'believe that 'tis all the Bull's fault.' 'But may not a cow be barren?' replied my father, turning to Doctor Slop. 'It never happens,' said Dr. Slop; 'but Obadiah's wife may have come before her time. - Prithee has the child hair upon his head?' 'It is as hairy as I am,' said Obadiah; he had not shaved for three weeks. 'Wheu - - u - - u - -' cried my father, with an exclamatory whistle; 'and so, brother Toby, this poor Bull of mine, who is as good a Bull as ever p_ssed, and might have done for Europa herself - had he but two legs less, he might have lost his character - which to a Town Bull is the very same thing as his life-' 'L__d!' said my mother. 'What is all this story about?' 'A Cock and a Bull,' said Yorick. '- And one of the best of its kind, I ever heard.'

Tristram Shandy

Book 9 - Chapter 33

Though man is of all others the most curious vehicle, said my father, yet at the same time 'tis of so slight a frame, and so totteringly put together, that the sudden jerks and hard jostlings it unavoidably meets with in this rugged journey, would overset and tear it to pieces a dozen times a day----was it not, brother _Toby_, that there is a secret spring within us. --Which spring, said my uncle _Toby_, I take to be Religion. --Will that set my child's nose on? cried my father, letting go his finger, and striking one hand against the other. ----It makes everything straight for us, answered my uncle _Toby_. ----Figuratively speaking, dear _Toby_, it may, for aught I know, said my father; but the spring I am speaking of, is that great and elastic power within us of counterbalancing evil, which, like a secret spring in a well-ordered machine, though it can't prevent the shock----at least it imposes upon our sense of it. Now, my dear brother, said my father, replacing his forefinger, as he was coming closer to the point----had my child arrived safe into the world, unmartyr'd in that precious part of him--fanciful and extravagant as I may appear to the world in my opinion of christian names, and of that magic bias which good or bad names irresistibly impress upon our characters and conducts --Heaven is witness! that in the warmest transports of my wishes for the prosperity of my child, I never once wished to crown his head with more glory and honour than what GEORGE or EDWARD would have spread around it. But alas! continued my father, as the greatest evil has befallen him ----I must counteract and undo it with the greatest good. He shall be christened _Trismegistus_, brother. I wish it may answer----replied my uncle _Toby_, rising up.

'Though man is so curious a vehicle,' said my father, 'yet his frame is so slight, and so totteringly put together, that the sudden jostlings it unavoidably meets with in this rugged journey, would tear it to pieces a dozen times a day - were it not, brother Toby, that there is a secret spring within us.' 'I take it you mean Religion,' said my uncle Toby. 'Will that set my child's nose on?' cried my father, letting go his finger. 'It makes everything straight for us,' answered my uncle Toby. 'Figuratively speaking, dear Toby, it may,' said my father; 'but the spring I am speaking of, is that great power within us of counterbalancing evil, which, like a secret spring in a well-ordered machine, though it can't prevent the shock - at least it deadens our sense of it. 'Now, my dear brother,' continued my father, replacing his forefinger, 'if my child had arrived safe into the world, with his nose intact - fanciful as I may appear in my opinion of christian names, and of that magic bias which good or bad names impress upon our characters - Heaven is witness! in my warmest wishes for my child, I never wished to crown his head with more glory and honour than George or Edward would have bestowed on him. But alas! as the greatest evil has befallen him - I must counteract it with the greatest good. He shall be christened Trismegistus.' 'I wish it may help,' replied my uncle Toby.

Tristram Shandy

Book 4 - Chapter 8

In the case of _knots_, --by which, in the first place, I would not be understood to mean slip-knots--because in the course of my life and opinions--my opinions concerning them will come in more properly when I mention the catastrophe of my great uncle Mr. _Hammond Shandy_, --a little man, --but of high fancy: --he rushed into the duke of _Monmouth's_ affair: ----nor, secondly, in this place, do I mean that particular species of knots called bow-knots; --there is so little address, or skill, or patience required in the unloosing them, that they are below my giving any opinion at all about them. --But by the knots I am speaking of, may it please your reverences to believe, that I mean good, honest, devilish tight, hard knots, made _bona fide_, as _Obadiah_ made his; ----in which there is no quibbling provision made by the duplication and return of the two ends of the strings thro' the annulus or noose made by the second _implication_ of them--to get them slipp'd and undone by. --I hope you apprehend me. In the case of these _knots_ then, and of the several obstructions, which, may it please your reverences, such knots cast in our way in getting through life----every hasty man can whip out his penknife and cut through them. ----'Tis wrong. Believe me, Sirs, the most virtuous way, and which both reason and conscience dictate----is to take our teeth or our fingers to them. ----Dr. _Slop_ had lost his teeth--his favourite instrument, by extracting in a wrong direction, or by some misapplication of it, unfortunately slipping, he had formerly, in a hard labour, knock'd out three of the best of them with the handle of it: ------he tried his fingers--alas; the nails of his fingers and thumbs were cut close. ----The duce take it! I can make nothing of it either way, cried Dr. _Slop_. ----The trampling overhead near my mother's bedside increased. --Pox take the fellow! I shall never get the knots untied as long as I live. ----My mother gave a groan. ----Lend me your penknife ----I must e'en cut the knots at last----pugh! ----psha! --Lord! I have cut my thumb quite across to the very bone----curse the fellow--if there was not another man-midwife within fifty miles ----I am undone for this bout --I wish the scoundrel hang'd --I wish he was shot ----I wish all the devils in hell had him for a blockhead!------ My father had a great respect for _Obadiah_, and could not bear to hear him disposed of in such a manner--he had moreover some little respect for himself--and could as ill bear with the indignity offered to himself in it. Had Dr. _Slop_ cut any part about him, but his thumb----my father had pass'd it by--his prudence had triumphed: as it was, he was determined to have his revenge. Small curses, Dr. _Slop_, upon great occasions, quoth my father (condoling with him first upon the accident), are but so much waste of our strength and soul's health to no manner of purpose. --I own it, replied Dr. _Slop_. --They are like sparrow-shot, quoth my uncle _Toby_ (suspending his whistling), fired against a bastion. ----They serve, continued my father, to stir the humours----but carry off none of their acrimony: --for my own part, I seldom swear or curse at all --I hold it bad----but if I fall into it by surprize, I generally retain so much presence of mind (right, quoth my uncle _Toby_) as to make it answer my purpose----that is, I swear on till I find myself easy. A wise and a just man however would always endeavour to proportion the vent given to these humours, not only to the degree of them stirring within himself--but to the size and ill intent of the offence upon which they are to fall. --"_Injuries come only from the heart_," --quoth my uncle _Toby_. For this reason, continued my father, with the most _Cervantick_ gravity, I have the greatest veneration in the world for that gentleman, who, in distrust of his own discretion in this point, sat down and composed (that is at his leisure) fit forms of swearing suitable to all cases, from the lowest to the highest provocation which could possibly happen to him----which forms being well considered by him, and such moreover as he could stand to, he kept them ever by him on the chimney-piece, within his reach, ready for use. --I never apprehended, replied Dr. _Slop_, that such a thing was ever thought of----much less executed. I beg your pardon, answered my father; I was reading, though not using, one of them to my brother _Toby_ this morning, whilst he pour'd out the tea--'tis here upon the shelf over my head; --but if I remember right, 'tis too violent for a cut of the thumb. --Not at all, quoth Dr. _Slop_--the devil take the fellow. ----Then, answered my father, 'Tis much at your service, Dr. _Slop_--on condition you will read it aloud; ----so rising up and reaching down a form of excommunication of the church of _Rome_, a copy of which, my father (who was curious in his collections) had procured out of the leger-book of the church of _Rochester_, writ by ERNULPHUS the bishop----with a most affected seriousness of look and voice, which might have cajoled ERNULPHUS himself--he put it into Dr. _Slop's_ hands. ----Dr. _Slop_ wrapt his thumb up in the corner of his handkerchief, and with a wry face, though without any suspicion, read aloud, as follows------my uncle _Toby_ whistling _Lillabullero_ as loud as he could all the time. Textus de Ecclesi Roffensi, per Ernulfum Episcopum. [Transcriber's Note: The following section was printed on facing pages, Latin and English. For this e-text it has been broken into alternating paragraphs. The letters inserted between Latin lines are alternative endings determined by the number and gender of the person(s) being excommunicated.] CAP. XI EXCOMMUNICATIO[3.2] Ex auctoritate Dei omnipotentis, Patris, et Filij, et Spiritus Sancti, et sanctorum canonum, sanctque et intemerat Virginis Dei genetricis Mari,--

In the case of knots, - by which, in the first place, I do not mean slip-knots - because in the course of my life and opinions- my opinions concerning them will come in more properly when I mention the catastrophe of my great uncle Mr. Hammond Shandy, a little man, but of high fancy - he rushed into the duke of Monmouth's affair:- secondly, nor do I mean bow-knots; there is so little skill required to unloose them that they are beneath my notice. But by knots I mean good, honest, devilish tight, hard knots, like Obadiah's; - in which there is no quibbling provision made by the duplication and return of the two ends of the strings through the annulus, to get them undone by. - I hope you understand me. In the case of these knots, and of the obstructions such knots cast in our way through life - every hasty man can whip out his penknife and cut through them. - 'Tis wrong. Believe me, Sirs, the most virtuous way is to take our teeth or our fingers to them. Dr. Slop had lost his teeth in a hard labour; his favourite instrument, extracting in a wrong direction, and unfortunately slipping, had knocked out three of the best of them with its handle. - He tried his fingers: alas, his nails were cut close. 'The deuce take it! I can make nothing of it,' cried Dr. Slop. - The trampling overhead increased. - 'Pox take the fellow! I shall never get the knots untied as long as I live.' - My mother groaned. - 'Lend me your penknife - I must cut them - psha! Lord! I have cut my thumb to the bone - curse the fellow - I wish the scoundrel hanged - or shot - I wish all the devils in hell had him for a blockhead!' My father had a great respect for Obadiah, and could not bear to hear him abused in such a manner; to say nothing of the indignity it offered to himself. He was determined to have revenge. 'Small curses, Dr. Slop, upon great occasions,' quoth he, 'are a waste of our strength to no purpose.' 'I know,' replied Dr. Slop. 'They are like sparrow-shot,' quoth my uncle Toby, 'fired against a bastion.' 'They serve,' continued my father, 'to stir the temper - not relieve it: for my own part, I seldom curse at all. I think it bad - but if I fall into it by surprise, I generally keep enough presence of mind to make it answer my purpose - that is, I swear on till I find myself easy. A wise man, however, would always try to vent these humours in proportion to the size and ill intent of the offence.' 'Injuries come only from the heart,' quoth my uncle Toby. 'For this reason,' continued my father, with the most Cervantick gravity, 'I have the greatest respect for that gentleman who sat down and composed fit forms of swearing suitable for all cases, from the lowest to the highest provocation. He kept these forms by him on the chimney-piece, within his reach, ready for use.' 'I never knew,' replied Dr. Slop, 'that such a thing was ever thought of.' 'I beg your pardon,' answered my father; 'I was reading, though not using, one of them to my brother Toby this morning, whilst he poured out the tea - 'tis here upon the shelf; but if I remember right, 'tis too violent for a cut of the thumb.' 'Not at all,' quoth Dr. Slop; 'the devil take the fellow.' 'Then,' answered my father, ''tis at your service, Dr. Slop - on condition you will read it aloud.' Rising up and reaching down a form of excommunication of the church of Rome, a copy of which my father had procured from the church of Rochester, writ by Ernelphus the bishop - with a most serious look, he put it into Dr. Slop's hands. Dr. Slop wrapped his thumb up in his handkerchief, and without any suspicion, read aloud, as follows - my uncle Toby whistling Lillabullero as loud as he could all the time. CAP. XI EXCOMMUNICATIO Ex auctoritate Dei omnipotentis, Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti, et sanctorum canonum, sanctaeque et intemeratae Virginis Dei genetricis Mariae,-

Tristram Shandy

Book 3 - Chapter 10

Let us go back to the ******----in the last chapter. It is a singular stroke of eloquence (at least it was so, when eloquence flourished at _Athens_ and _Rome_, and would be so now, did orators wear mantles) not to mention the name of a thing, when you had the thing about you _in petto_, ready to produce, pop, in the place you want it. A scar, an axe, a sword, a pink'd doublet, a rusty helmet, a pound and a half of pot-ashes in an urn, or a three-halfpenny pickle pot--but above all, a tender infant royally accoutred. --Tho' if it was too young, and the oration as long as _Tully's_ second _Philippick_--it must certainly have beshit the orator's mantle. --And then again, if too old, --it must have been unwieldy and incommodious to his action--so as to make him lose by his child almost as much as he could gain by it. --Otherwise, when a state orator has hit the precise age to a minute----hid his BAMBINO in his mantle so cunningly that no mortal could smell it----and produced it so critically, that no soul could say, it came in by head and shoulders --Oh Sirs! it has done wonders --It has open'd the sluices, and turn'd the brains, and shook the principles, and unhinged the politicks of half a nation. These feats however are not to be done, except in those states and times, I say, where orators wore mantles----and pretty large ones too, my brethren, with some twenty or five-and-twenty yards of good purple, superfine, marketable cloth in them--with large flowing folds and doubles, and in a great style of design. --All which plainly shews, may it please your worships, that the decay of eloquence, and the little good service it does at present, both within and without doors, is owing to nothing else in the world, but short coats, and the disuse of _trunk-hose_. ----We can conceal nothing under ours, Madam, worth shewing.

Let us go back to the ****** in the last chapter. It is a singular stroke of eloquence (at least it was, when eloquence flourished at Athens and Rome, and would be so now, if orators wore mantles) not to mention the name of a thing, when you had the actual thing about you, ready to produce, pop, in the place you wanted it. An axe, a sword, a rusty helmet, a pound and a half of ashes in an urn, or a three-halfpenny pickle pot - but above all, a tender infant royally clothed - though if it was too young, and the oration too long, it must certainly have beshit the orator's mantle. - And then again, if it was too old, it must have been unwieldy and inconvenient for his purpose. Otherwise, when an orator has hit the precise time - hid his Bambino in his mantle so cunningly that no-one could smell it - and produced it skilfully - Oh Sirs! it has done wonders. It has turned the brains, and shook the principles, and unhinged the politics of half a nation. These feats could only be done, however, where orators wore mantles - and pretty large ones too, with some five-and-twenty yards of good superfine cloth, large flowing folds and a great style of design. All which plainly shows that the decay of eloquence is owing to nothing else in the world, but short coats. We can conceal nothing under ours, Madam, worth showing.

Tristram Shandy

Book 3 - Chapter 14

----Thou wilt get a brush and a little chalk to my sword----'Twill be only in your honour's way, replied _Trim_.

'Thou wilt get a brush and a little chalk to my sword.' ''Twill only be in your honour's way,' replied Trim.

Tristram Shandy

Book 8 - Chapter 29

----My uncle _Toby_ went to his bureau, --put his purse into his breeches pocket, and having ordered the corporal to go early in the morning for a physician, --he went to bed, and fell asleep.

My uncle Toby went to his bureau, put his purse into his breeches pocket, and having ordered the corporal to go early in the morning for a doctor, - he went to bed, and fell asleep.

Tristram Shandy

Book 6 - Chapter 9

Your sudden and unexpected arrival, quoth my uncle _Toby_, addressing himself to Dr. _Slop_ (all three of them sitting down to the fire together, as my uncle _Toby_ began to speak)--instantly brought the great _Stevinus_ into my head, who, you must know, is a favourite author with me. --Then, added my father, making use of the argument _Ad Crumenam_, --I will lay twenty guineas to a single crown-piece (which will serve to give away to _Obadiah_ when he gets back) that this same _Stevinus_ was some engineer or other, --or has wrote something or other, either directly or indirectly, upon the science of fortification. He has so, --replied my uncle _Toby_. --I knew it, said my father, though, for the soul of me, I cannot see what kind of connection there can be betwixt Dr. _Slop's_ sudden coming, and a discourse upon fortification; --yet I fear'd it. --Talk of what we will, brother, ----or let the occasion be never so foreign or unfit for the subject, --you are sure to bring it in. I would not, brother _Toby_, continued my father, ------I declare I would not have my head so full of curtins and hornworks. --That I dare say you would not, quoth Dr. _Slop_, interrupting him, and laughing most immoderately at his pun. _Dennis_ the critic could not detest and abhor a pun, or the insinuation of a pun, more cordially than my father; --he would grow testy upon it at any time; --but to be broke in upon by one, in a serious discourse, was as bad, he would say, as a fillip upon the nose; ----he saw no difference. Sir, quoth my uncle _Toby_, addressing himself to Dr. _Slop_, --the curtins my brother _Shandy_ mentions here, have nothing to do with bedsteads; --tho', I know _Du Cange_ says, "That bed-curtains, in all probability, have taken their name from them;" --nor have the hornworks he speaks of, anything in the world to do with the horn-works of cuckoldom: --But the _Curtin_, Sir, is the word we use in fortification, for that part of the wall or rampart which lies between the two bastions and joins them --Besiegers seldom offer to carry on their attacks directly against the curtin, for this reason, because they are so well _flanked_. ('Tis the case of other curtains, quoth Dr. _Slop_, laughing.) However, continued my uncle _Toby_, to make them sure, we generally choose to place ravelins before them, taking care only to extend them beyond the foss or ditch: ----The common men, who know very little of fortification, confound the ravelin and the half-moon together, --tho' they are very different things; --not in their figure or construction, for we make them exactly alike, in all points; --for they always consist of two faces, making a salient angle, with the gorges, not straight, but in form of a crescent: ----Where then lies the difference? (quoth my father, a little testily). --In their situations, answered my uncle _Toby_: --For when a ravelin, brother, stands before the curtin, it is a ravelin; and when a ravelin stands before a bastion, then the ravelin is not a ravelin; --it is a half-moon; --a half-moon likewise is a half-moon, and no more, so long as it stands before its bastion; ----but was it to change place, and get before the curtin, --'twould be no longer a half-moon; a half-moon, in that case, is not a half-moon; --'tis no more than a ravelin. ----I think, quoth my father, that the noble science of defence has its weak sides----as well as others. --As for the horn-work (high! ho! sigh'd my father) which, continued my uncle _Toby_, my brother was speaking of, they are a very considerable part of an outwork; ----they are called by the _French_ engineers, _Ouvrage corne_, and we generally make them to cover such places as we suspect to be weaker than the rest; --'tis formed by two epaulments or demi-bastions--they are very pretty, --and if you will take a walk, I'll engage to shew you one well worth your trouble. --I own, continued my uncle _Toby_, when we crown them, --they are much stronger, but then they are very expensive, and take up a great deal of ground, so that, in my opinion, they are most of use to cover or defend the head of a camp; otherwise the double tenaille --By the mother who bore us! ----brother _Toby_, quoth my father, not able to hold out any longer, ----you would provoke a saint; ----here have you got us, I know not how, not only souse into the middle of the old subject again: --But so full is your head of these confounded works, that though my wife is this moment in the pains of labour, and you hear her cry out, yet nothing will serve you but to carry off the man-midwife. ----_Accoucheur_, --if you please, quoth Dr. _Slop_. ----With all my heart, replied my father, I don't care what they call you, --but I wish the whole science of fortification, with all its inventors, at the devil; --it has been the death of thousands, --and it will be mine in the end, --I would not, I would not, brother _Toby_, have my brains so full of saps, mines, blinds, gabions, pallisadoes, ravelins, half-moons, and such trumpery, to be proprietor of _Namur_, and of all the towns in _Flanders_ with it. My uncle _Toby_ was a man patient of injuries; --not from want of courage, --I have told you in a former chapter, "that he was a man of courage:" --And will add here, that where just occasions presented, or called it forth, --I know no man under whose arm I would have sooner taken shelter; ----nor did this arise from any insensibility or obtuseness of his intellectual parts; --for he felt this insult of my father's as feelingly as a man could do; --but he was of a peaceful, placid nature, --no jarring element in it, --all was mixed up so kindly within him; my uncle _Toby_ had scarce a heart to retaliate upon a fly. --Go--says he, one day at dinner, to an over-grown one which had buzzed about his nose, and tormented him cruelly all dinner-time, --and which after infinite attempts, he had caught at last, as it flew by him; --I'll not hurt thee, says my uncle _Toby_, rising from his chair, and going across the room, with the fly in his hand, ----I'll not hurt a hair of thy head: --Go, says he, lifting up the sash, and opening his hand as he spoke, to let it escape; --go, poor devil, get thee gone, why should I hurt thee? ----This world surely is wide enough to hold both thee and me. I was but ten years old when this happened: but whether it was, that the action itself was more in unison to my nerves at that age of pity, which instantly set my whole frame into one vibration of most pleasurable sensation; --or how far the manner and expression of it might go towards it; --or in what degree, or by what secret magick, --a tone of voice and harmony of movement, attuned by mercy, might find a passage to my heart, I know not; --this I know, that the lesson of universal good-will then taught and imprinted by my uncle _Toby_, has never since been worn out of my mind: And tho' I would not depreciate what the study of the _Liter humaniores_, at the university, have done for me in that respect, or discredit the other helps of an expensive education bestowed upon me, both at home and abroad since; --yet I often think that I owe one half of my philanthropy to that one accidental impression. [-->] This is to serve for parents and governors instead of a whole volume upon the subject. I could not give the reader this stroke in my uncle _Toby's_ picture, by the instrument with which I drew the other parts of it, --that taking in no more than the mere HOBBY-HORSICAL likeness: ----this is a part of his moral character. My father, in this patient endurance of wrongs, which I mention, was very different, as the reader must long ago have noted; he had a much more acute and quick sensibility of nature, attended with a little soreness of temper; tho' this never transported him to anything which looked like malignancy: --yet in the little rubs and vexations of life, 'twas apt to shew itself in a drollish and witty kind of peevishness: ----He was, however, frank and generous in his nature; ----at all times open to conviction; and in the little ebullitions of this subacid humour towards others, but particularly towards my uncle _Toby_, whom he truly loved: ----he would feel more pain, ten times told (except in the affair of my aunt _Dinah_, or where an hypothesis was concerned) than what he ever gave. The characters of the two brothers, in this view of them, reflected light upon each other, and appeared with great advantage in this affair which arose about _Stevinus_. I need not tell the reader, if he keeps a HOBBY-HORSE, ----that a man's HOBBY-HORSE is as tender a part as he has about him; and that these unprovoked strokes at my uncle _Toby's_ could not be unfelt by him. ----No: ------as I said above, my uncle _Toby_ did feel them, and very sensibly too. Pray, Sir, what said he? --How did he behave? --O, Sir! --it was great: For as soon as my father had done insulting his HOBBY-HORSE, ------he turned his head without the least emotion, from Dr. _Slop_, to whom he was addressing his discourse, and looking up into my father's face, with a countenance spread over with so much good-nature; ----so placid; ----so fraternal; ----so inexpressibly tender towards him: --it penetrated my father to his heart: He rose up hastily from his chair, and seizing hold of both my uncle _Toby's_ hands as he spoke: --Brother _Toby_, said he, --I beg thy pardon; ----forgive, I pray thee, this rash humour which my mother gave me. ----My dear, dear brother, answered my uncle _Toby_, rising up by my father's help, say no more about it; --you are heartily welcome, had it been ten times as much, brother. But 'tis ungenerous, replied my father, to hurt any man; ----a brother worse; ----but to hurt a brother of such gentle manners, --so unprovoking, --and so unresenting; ----'tis base: ----By Heaven, 'tis cowardly. --You are heartily welcome, brother, quoth my uncle _Toby_, ------had it been fifty times as much. ----Besides, what have I to do, my dear _Toby_, cried my father, either with your amusements or your pleasures, unless it was in my power (which it is not) to increase their measure? ----Brother _Shandy_, answered my uncle _Toby_, looking wistfully in his face, ----you are much mistaken in this point: --for you do increase my pleasure very much, in begetting children for the _Shandy_ family at your time of life. --But, by that, Sir, quoth Dr. _Slop_, Mr. _Shandy_ increases his own. --Not a jot, quoth my father.

'Your sudden and unexpected arrival,' quoth my uncle Toby to Dr. Slop (all three of them sitting down to the fire together,) - 'instantly brought the great Stevinus into my head, who, you must know, is a favourite author with me.' My father said, 'I will lay twenty guineas that this Stevinus was some engineer or other, or has wrote upon the science of fortification.' 'He has so,' replied my uncle Toby. 'I knew it,' said my father, 'though, for the soul of me, I cannot see what connection there can be betwixt Dr. Slop's sudden coming, and fortification; - yet I feared it. No matter how unfit for the subject, you are sure to bring it in. I declare, my brother Toby, I would not have my head so full of curtins and hornworks.' 'I dare say you would not,' quoth Dr. Slop, interrupting him, and laughing greatly at his pun. No critic could detest a pun more than my father; it annoyed him at any time; - but to be broke in upon by one, in a serious discussion, was as bad, he would say, as a fillip upon the nose. 'Sir,' quoth my uncle Toby to Dr. Slop, 'the curtins my brother Shandy mentions have nothing to do with bedsteads; - though, I know Du Cange says that bed-curtains, in all probability, have taken their name from them. - Nor have the hornworks he speaks of, anything to do with the horn-works of cuckoldom. The Curtin, Sir, is the word we use in fortification, for that part of the rampart which lies between two bastions. Besiegers seldom attack the curtins directly, because they are so well flanked.' ''Tis the case of other curtains,' quoth Dr. Slop, laughing. 'However,' continued my uncle Toby, 'to make them sure, we generally place ravelins before them, taking care only to extend them beyond the foss or ditch. - Men who know little of fortification, confound the ravelin and the half-moon, though they are very different things; - not in their construction, for we make them exactly alike; for they always consist of two faces, making a salient angle with the gorges, not straight, but in a crescent.' 'Where then lies the difference?' quoth my father, a little testily. 'In their situations,' answered my uncle. 'For when a ravelin, brother, stands before the curtin, it is a ravelin; and when it stands before a bastion, then it is not a ravelin; - it is a half-moon; a half-moon likewise is a half-moon so long as it stands before its bastion; - but was it to get before the curtin, 'twould be no more than a ravelin.' 'I think,' quoth my father, 'that the noble science of defence has its weak sides.' 'As for the hornworks-' ('High! ho!' sighed my father) 'which,' continued my uncle Toby, 'my brother was speaking of, they are part of an outwork; they are called by French engineers, Ouvrage corne, and we make them to cover such places as we suspect to be weaker than the rest. - 'Tis formed by two epaulments or demi-bastions - they are very pretty, and if you will take a walk, I'll show you one well worth your trouble. I admit when we crown them, they are much stronger, but then they are very expensive, and take up a great deal of ground, so that, in my opinion-' 'By the mother who bore us! brother Toby,' quoth my father, not able to hold out any longer, 'you would provoke a saint. Here you have got us, I know not how, into the middle of the old subject again. So full is your head of these confounded works, that though my wife is this moment in labour, and you hear her cry out, yet you want to carry off the man-midwife.' 'Accoucheur, if you please,' quoth Dr. Slop. 'Certainly,' replied my father. 'I don't care what they call you, - but I wish the whole science of fortification at the devil; it will be the death of me. I would not, brother Toby, have my brains so full of saps, mines, blinds, pallisadoes, ravelins, half-moons, and such trumpery, if it made me owner of all the towns in Flanders.' My uncle Toby was a man of courage: and I know no man under whose arm I would have sooner taken shelter. He felt this insult of my father's as feelingly as a man could do; - but he was of a peaceful, placid nature, with scarce a heart to retaliate upon a fly. 'Go,' says he, one day at dinner, to one which had buzzed about his nose, and tormented him all dinner-time, and which, after infinite attempts, he had caught at last; - 'I'll not hurt thee,' says my uncle Toby, going across the room, with the fly in his hand, - 'Go,' says he, lifting up the sash, and letting it escape; 'poor devil, get thee gone, why should I hurt thee? This world is wide enough to hold both thee and me.' I was but ten years old when this happened: but this action instantly set my whole frame into one vibration of most pleasurable sensation; how far the manner and expression of it, or a tone of voice attuned by mercy, might find a passage to my heart, I know not. This I know, that the lesson of universal good-will then taught by my uncle Toby, has never since been worn out of my mind. And though I would not depreciate what university study has done for me, or discredit the other helps of an expensive education; - yet I often think that I owe half of my philanthropy to that one accidental impression. [This is to serve for parents instead of a whole volume upon the subject.] I could not draw this stroke in my uncle Toby's picture, by the instrument with which I drew the other parts of it, that mere Hobby-Horsical likeness: - this is a part of his moral character. My father was very different in his endurance of wrongs; he had a much more acute sensibility, and a little soreness of temper; though this never extended to malignancy: - yet in the small vexations of life, 'twas apt to show itself in a witty kind of peevishness. He was, however, frank and generous; and in the little bubblings-up of this acid humour towards others, but particularly towards my uncle Toby, whom he truly loved, he would feel more ten times more pain than he ever gave (except in the affair of my aunt Dinah, or where an hypothesis was concerned). The characters of the two brothers appeared with great advantage in this affair of Stevinus. I need not tell the reader that a man's Hobby-Horse is the tenderest part he has; and these unprovoked blows at my uncle Toby's Hobby-Horse were felt by him. - Pray, Sir, what said he? How did he behave? - O, Sir! - it was great. For when my father had finished insulting his Hobby-Horse, my uncle turned his head, and looked into my father's face with so much good-nature; so placid - so fraternal - so inexpressibly tender, it penetrated my father to his heart. He rose up hastily from his chair, seizing my uncle Toby's hands. 'Brother Toby,' said he, 'I beg thy pardon; forgive me.' 'My dear, dear brother,' answered my uncle, 'say no more about it; you are heartily welcome, brother.' 'But 'tis ungenerous,' replied my father, 'to hurt any man; - a brother worse; but to hurt a brother of such gentle manners, - 'tis base: 'tis cowardly. Besides, what have I to do, my dear Toby, with your pleasures, unless it was in my power (which it is not) to increase them?' 'Brother Shandy,' answered my uncle Toby, looking wistfully in his face, 'you do increase my pleasure very much, in begetting children for the Shandy family at your time of life.' 'By that, Sir,' quoth Dr. Slop, 'Mr. Shandy increases his own pleasure.' 'Not a jot,' quoth my father.

Tristram Shandy

Book 2 - Chapter 12

----I won't go about to argue the point with you--'tis so----and I am persuaded of it, madam, as much as can be, "That both man and woman bear pain or sorrow (and, for aught I know, pleasure too) best in a horizontal position." The moment my father got up into his chamber, he threw himself prostrate across the bed in the wildest disorder imaginable, but at the same time in the most lamentable attitude of a man borne down with sorrows, that ever the eye of pity dropp'd a tear for. ----The palm of his right hand, as he fell upon the bed, receiving his forehead, and covering the greatest part of both his eyes, gently sunk down with his head (his elbow giving way backwards) till his nose touch'd the quilt; ----his left arm hung insensible over the side of the bed, his knuckles reclining upon the handle of the chamber-pot, which peep'd out beyond the valance--his right leg (his left being drawn up towards his body) hung half over the side of the bed, the edge of it pressing upon his shin-bone --He felt it not. A fix'd, inflexible sorrow took possession of every line of his face. --He sigh'd once----heaved his breast often--but uttered not a word. An old set-stitch'd chair, valanced and fringed around with party-coloured worsted bobs, stood at the bed's head, opposite to the side where my father's head reclined. --My uncle _Toby_ sat him down in it. Before an affliction is digested--consolation ever comes too soon; --and after it is digested--it comes too late: so that you see, madam, there is but a mark between these two, as fine almost as a hair, for a comforter to take aim at: my uncle _Toby_ was always either on this side, or on that of it, and would often say, he believed in his heart he could as soon hit the longitude; for this reason, when he sat down in the chair, he drew the curtain a little forwards, and having a tear at every one's service----he pull'd out a cambrick handkerchief----gave a low sigh----but held his peace.

I am persuaded, madam, 'That both man and woman bear pain or sorrow (and, for aught I know, pleasure too) best in a horizontal position.' The moment my father got into his chamber, he wildly threw himself prostrate across the bed in the attitude of a man borne down with sorrows. - The palm of his right hand covering both his eyes, he gently sunk down till his nose touched the quilt; his left arm hung over the side of the bed, his knuckles reclining upon the handle of the chamber-pot - his right leg dangled half over the bed, the edge of it pressing on his shin-bone. - He felt it not. Sorrow took possession of every line of his face. He sighed once - heaved his breast often - but uttered not a word. An old chair, fringed with woollen bobs, stood at the bed's head. My uncle Toby sat down in it. Before an affliction is digested, consolation always comes too soon; and after it is digested - it comes too late: so that you see, madam, there is only a mark between these two as fine as a hair, for a comforter to take aim at. My uncle Toby was always either on this side, or on that of it, and did not believe he could hit the mark; therefore, when he sat down, he drew the curtain a little, pulled out a handkerchief - gave a low sigh - but held his peace.

Tristram Shandy

Book 3 - Chapter 29

The fifteenth chapter is come at last; and brings nothing with it but a sad signature of "How our pleasures slip from under us in this world!" For in talking of my digression ----I declare before heaven I have made it! What a strange creature is mortal man! said she. 'Tis very true, said I----but 'twere better to get all these things out of our heads, and return to my uncle _Toby_.

The fifteenth chapter is come at last; and brings nothing with it a sad example of 'How our pleasures slip from under us in this world!' For in talking of my digression - I declare before heaven I have made it! What a strange creature is mortal man! Better get all these things out of our heads, and return to my uncle Toby.

Tristram Shandy

Book 9 - Chapter 15

When the precipitancy of a man's wishes hurries on his ideas ninety times faster than the vehicle he rides in--woe be to truth! and woe be to the vehicle and its tackling (let 'em be made of what stuff you will) upon which he breathes forth the disappointment of his soul! As I never give general characters either of men or things in choler, "_the most haste the worst speed_," was all the reflection I made upon the affair, the first time it happen'd; --the second, third, fourth, and fifth time, I confined it respectively to those times, and accordingly blamed only the second, third, fourth, and fifth post-boy for it, without carrying my reflections further; but the event continuing to befal me from the fifth, to the sixth, seventh, eighth, ninth, and tenth time, and without one exception, I then could not avoid making a national reflection of it, which I do in these words; _That something is always wrong in a French post-chaise, upon first setting out._ Or the proposition may stand thus: _A French postilion has always to alight before he has got three hundred yards out of town._ What's wrong now? ----Diable! ----a rope's broke! ----a knot has slipt! ----a staple's drawn! ----a bolt's to whittle! ----a tag, a rag, a jag, a strap, a buckle, or a buckle's tongue, want altering. Now true as all this is, I never think myself impowered to excommunicate thereupon either the post-chaise, or its driver----nor do I take it into my head to swear by the living G--, I would rather go a-foot ten thousand times----or that I will be damn'd, if ever I get into another----but I take the matter coolly before me, and consider, that some tag, or rag, or jag, or bolt, or buckle, or buckle's tongue, will ever be a wanting, or want altering, travel where I will--so I never chaff, but take the good and the bad as they fall in my road, and get on: ----Do so, my lad! said I; he had lost five minutes already, in alighting in order to get at a luncheon of black bread, which he had cramm'd into the chaise-pocket, and was remounted, and going leisurely on, to relish it the better ----Get on, my lad, said I, briskly--but in the most persuasive tone imaginable, for I jingled a four-and-twenty sous piece against the glass, taking care to hold the flat side towards him, as he look'd back: the dog grinn'd intelligence from his right ear to his left, and behind his sooty muzzle discovered such a pearly row of teeth, that _Sovereignty_ would have pawn'd her jewels for them.---- Just heaven! {What masticators! -- {What bread!-- and so as he finished the last mouthful of it, we entered the town of _Montreuil_.

When a man's wishes hurry on his ideas ninety times faster than the vehicle he rides in - woe be to truth! and woe be to the vehicle upon which he breathes forth his disappointment! As I never describe men or things in anger, 'more haste less speed,' was all the reflection I made upon the affair, the first time it happened. The second, third, fourth, and fifth time, I blamed only the second, third, fourth, and fifth post-boys, without reflecting further; but when the event befell me a sixth, seventh, eighth, ninth, and tenth time, I could not avoid making a national reflection: That something is always wrong in a French post-chaise, upon first setting out. Or thus: A French postilion always has to alight before he has got three hundred yards out of town. What's wrong now? Diable! - a rope's broke! - a knot has slipped! - a staple's drawn! - a tag, a rag, a jag, a strap, a buckle, wants altering. Now, I never swear at the post-chaise, or its driver - but I take the matter coolly, and consider that some tag, rag, jag, strap or buckle will always want altering, wherever I travel. So I take the good and the bad as they fall in my road, and get on. 'Do so, my lad!' said I; he had lost five minutes already, in alighting to get a luncheon of black bread, which he had crammed into the chaise-pocket, and he had remounted and was going leisurely on, to relish it the better - 'Get on, my lad,' said I, briskly - but in the most persuasive tone imaginable, for I jingled a coin against the glass: the dog grinned from ear to ear, and behind his sooty muzzle uncovered a pearly row of teeth. Heaven! What masticators! What bread! - and so as he finished his last mouthful, we entered the town of Montreuil.

Tristram Shandy

Book 7 - Chapter 8

I would not give a groat for that man's knowledge in pencraft, who does not understand this, ----That the best plain narrative in the world, tacked very close to the last spirited apostrophe to my uncle _Toby_----would have felt both cold and vapid upon the reader's palate; --therefore I forthwith put an end to the chapter, though I was in the middle of my story. ------Writers of my stamp have one principle in common with painters. Where an exact copying makes our pictures less striking, we choose the less evil; deeming it even more pardonable to trespass against truth, than beauty. This is to be understood _cum grano salis_; but be it as it will, --as the parallel is made more for the sake of letting the apostrophe cool, than any thing else, --'tis not very material whether upon any other score the reader approves of it or not. In the latter end of the third year, my uncle _Toby_ perceiving that the parameter and semiparameter of the conic section angered his wound, he left off the study of projectiles in a kind of a huff, and betook himself to the practical part of fortification only; the pleasure of which, like a spring held back, returned upon him with redoubled force. It was in this year that my uncle began to break in upon the daily regularity of a clean shirt, ----to dismiss his barber unshaven, ----and to allow his surgeon scarce time sufficient to dress his wound, concerning himself so little about it, as not to ask him once in seven times dressing, how it went on: when, lo! --all of a sudden, for the change was quick as lightning, he began to sigh heavily for his recovery, ----complained to my father, grew impatient with the surgeon: ----and one morning, as he heard his foot coming up stairs, he shut up his books, and thrust aside his instruments, in order to expostulate with him upon the protraction of the cure, which, he told him, might surely have been accomplished at least by that time: --He dwelt long upon the miseries he had undergone, and the sorrows of his four years melancholy imprisonment; --adding, that had it not been for the kind looks and fraternal chearings of the best of brothers, --he had long since sunk under his misfortunes. ----My father was by: My uncle _Toby's_ eloquence brought tears into his eyes; ----'twas unexpected: ----My uncle _Toby_, by nature was not eloquent; --it had the greater effect: ----The surgeon was confounded; ----not that there wanted grounds for such, or greater marks of impatience, --but 'twas unexpected too; in the four years he had attended him, he had never seen anything like it in my uncle _Toby's_ carriage; he had never once dropped one fretful or discontented word; ----he had been all patience, --all submission. --We lose the right of complaining sometimes by forbearing it; --but we often treble the force: --The surgeon was astonished; but much more so, when he heard my uncle _Toby_ go on, and peremptorily insist upon his healing up the wound directly, --or sending for Monsieur _Ronjat_, the king's serjeant-surgeon, to do it for him. The desire of life and health is implanted in man's nature; ----the love of liberty and enlargement is a sister-passion to it: These my uncle _Toby_ had in common with his species; ----and either of them had been sufficient to account for his earnest desire to get well and out of doors; ----but I have told you before, that nothing wrought with our family after the common way; ----and from the time and manner in which this eager desire shewed itself in the present case, the penetrating reader will suspect there was some other cause or crotchet for it in my uncle _Toby's_ head: ----There was so, and 'tis the subject of the next chapter to set forth what that cause and crotchet was. I own, when that's done, 'twill be time to return back to the parlour fire-side, where we left my uncle _Toby_ in the middle of his sentence.

Any writer understands this, - that the best narrative in the world, tacked too close to the last spirited appeal to my uncle Toby, would have felt cold and vapid; therefore I ended the chapter, though I was in the middle of my story. Writers of my stamp have one principle in common with painters. Where exact copying makes our pictures less striking, we think it more pardonable to trespass against truth, than beauty. This is to be understood with a grain of salt; but as the parallel is made more for the sake of letting the last chapter cool, than anything else, it does not matter greatly whether the reader approves of it or not. In the latter end of the third year, my uncle Toby, seeing that the parameter and semiparameter of the conic section angered his wound, left off the study of projectiles in a kind of a huff, and kept to the practical part of fortification only; the pleasure of which, like a spring held back, returned upon him with redoubled force. It was in this year that my uncle began to cease to wear a clean shirt daily, - to dismiss his barber unshaven, and to allow his surgeon scarce time enough to dress his wound: lo! all of a sudden, he began to sigh heavily for his recovery, - complained to my father, and grew impatient with the surgeon. One morning, as he heard him coming up stairs, he shut his books, in order to expostulate with him. He dwelt long upon the miseries he had undergone in the last four melancholy years; - adding, that had it not been for his brother's kindness, he would have sunk under his misfortunes. My father was nearby: my uncle Toby's unexpected eloquence brought tears into his eyes. The surgeon was confounded; in the four years he had attended him, my uncle Toby had never dropped one fretful word; - he had been all submission. So the surgeon was astonished when he heard my uncle peremptorily insist upon his healing the wound directly, or sending for the king's surgeon to do it for him. Mu uncle Toby had a desire of life and health in common with his species; but I have told you before, that nothing affected our family the common way; and from the manner in which this eager desire now showed itself, the penetrating reader will suspect there was some other cause for it in my uncle's head. 'Tis the subject of the next chapter to set forth what that cause was. When that's done, 'twill be time to return to the parlour fire-side, where we left my uncle Toby in the middle of his sentence.

Tristram Shandy

Book 2 - Chapter 4

Your honour, said _Trim_, shutting the parlour-door before he began to speak, has heard, I imagine, of this unlucky accident ----O yes, _Trim_, said my uncle _Toby_, and it gives me great concern. --I am heartily concerned too, but I hope your honour, replied _Trim_, will do me the justice to believe, that it was not in the least owing to me. ----To thee--_Trim?_ --cried my uncle _Toby_, looking kindly in his face------'twas _Susannah's_ and the curate's folly betwixt them. ------What business could they have together, an' please your honour, in the garden? ----In the gallery thou meanest, replied my uncle _Toby_. _Trim_ found he was upon a wrong scent, and stopped short with a low bow ----Two misfortunes, quoth the corporal to himself, are twice as many at least as are needful to be talked over at one time; ----the mischief the cow has done in breaking into the fortifications, may be told his honour hereafter. ----_Trim's_ casuistry and address, under the cover of his low bow, prevented all suspicion in my uncle _Toby_, so he went on with what he had to say to _Trim_ as follows: ------For my own part, _Trim_, though I can see little or no difference betwixt my nephew's being called _Tristram_ or _Trismegistus_--yet as the thing sits so near my brother's heart, _Trim_ ------I would freely have given a hundred pounds rather than it should have happened. ----A hundred pounds, an' please your honour! replied _Trim_, ----I would not give a cherry-stone to boot. ----Nor would I, _Trim_, upon my own account, quoth my uncle _Toby_, --------but my brother, whom there is no arguing with in this case--maintains that a great deal more depends, _Trim_, upon christian-names, than what ignorant people imagine----for he says there never was a great or heroic action performed since the world began by one called _Tristram_--nay, he will have it, _Trim_, that a man can neither be learned, or wise, or brave. ----'Tis all fancy, an' please your honour --I fought just as well, replied the corporal, when the regiment called me _Trim_, as when they called me _James Butler_. ----And for my own part, said my uncle _Toby_, though I should blush to boast of myself, _Trim_----yet had my name been _Alexander_, I could have done no more at _Namur_ than my duty. --Bless your honour! cried _Trim_, advancing three steps as he spoke, does a man think of his christian-name when he goes upon the attack? ------Or when he stands in the trench, _Trim?_ cried my uncle _Toby_, looking firm. ----Or when he enters a breach? said _Trim_, pushing in between two chairs. ----Or forces the lines? cried my uncle, rising up, and pushing his crutch like a pike. ----Or facing a platoon? cried _Trim_, presenting his stick like a fire-lock. ----Or when he marches up the glacis? cried my uncle _Toby_, looking warm and setting his foot upon his stool.------

'Your honour,' said Trim, shutting the parlour-door, 'has heard, I imagine, of the unlucky accident?' 'O yes, Trim,' said my uncle Toby, 'and it gives me great concern.' 'I am heartily concerned too,' replied Trim, 'but I hope your honour will believe that it was not in the least owing to me.' 'To thee, Trim?' cried my uncle Toby kindly. ''Twas Susannah's and the curate's folly betwixt them.' 'What business could they have together in the garden?' 'In the gallery, thou meanest,' replied my uncle. Trim found he was upon a wrong scent, and stopped short. Two misfortunes, quoth he to himself, are twice as many as are needed now; - the mischief the cow has done in breaking into the fortifications, may be told to his honour later. My uncle Toby, free of all suspicion, went on: 'For my own part, Trim, I can see little difference betwixt my nephew's being called Tristram or Trismegistus - though as it sits so near my brother's heart, I would have given a hundred pounds for it not to have happened.' 'A hundred pounds, your honour!' replied Trim. 'I would not give a cherry-stone.' 'Nor would I, Trim, upon my own account; but my brother, whom there is no arguing with in this case, maintains that a great deal depends upon christian-names - and he says there never was an heroic action performed by one called Tristram. He holds that a Tristram cannot be learned, wise, or brave.' ''Tis all fancy, your honour - I fought just as well,' replied the corporal, 'when the regiment called me Trim, as when they called me James Butler.' 'For my own part,' said my uncle Toby, 'though I should blush to boast, Trim - yet had my name been Alexander, I could have done no more at Namur than my duty.' 'Bless your honour!' cried Trim, 'does a man think of his christian-name when he goes upon the attack?' 'Or when he stands in the trench, Trim?' cried my uncle. 'Or when he enters a breach?' said Trim, pushing between two chairs. 'Or forces the lines?' said my uncle, rising up. 'Or faces a platoon?' cried Trim, raising his stick. 'Or when he marches up the glacis?' cried my uncle Toby warmly, as he set his foot upon the stool.

Tristram Shandy

Book 4 - Chapter 18

The draw-bridge being held irreparable, _Trim_ was ordered directly to set about another------but not upon the same model: for cardinal _Alberoni's_ intrigues at that time being discovered, and my uncle _Toby_ rightly foreseeing that a flame would inevitably break out betwixt _Spain_ and the Empire, and that the operations of the ensuing campaign must in all likelihood be either in _Naples_ or _Sicily_----he determined upon an _Italian_ bridge--(my uncle _Toby_, by the bye, was not far out of his conjectures)----but my father, who was infinitely the better politician, and took the lead as far of my uncle _Toby_ in the cabinet, as my uncle _Toby_ took it of him in the field------convinced him, that if the king of _Spain_ and the Emperor went together by the ears, _England_ and _France_ and _Holland_ must, by force of their pre-engagements, all enter the lists too; ----and if so, he would say, the combatants, brother _Toby_, as sure as we are alive, will fall to it again, pell-mell, upon the old prizefighting stage of _Flanders_; --then what will you do with your _Italian_ bridge? --We will go on with it then upon the old model, cried my uncle _Toby_. When Corporal _Trim_ had about half finished it in that style----my uncle _Toby_ found out a capital defect in it, which he had never thoroughly considered before. It turned, it seems, upon hinges at both ends of it, opening in the middle, one half of which turning to one side of the fosse, and the other to the other; the advantage of which was this, that by dividing the weight of the bridge into two equal portions, it impowered my uncle _Toby_ to raise it up or let it down with the end of his crutch, and with one hand, which, as his garrison was weak, was as much as he could well spare--but the disadvantages of such a construction were insurmountable; ----for by this means, he would say, I leave one half of my bridge in my enemy's possession----and pray of what use is the other? The natural remedy for this was, no doubt, to have his bridge fast only at one end with hinges, so that the whole might be lifted up together, and stand bolt upright------but that was rejected for the reason given above. For a whole week after he was determined in his mind to have one of that particular construction which is made to draw back horizontally, to hinder a passage; and to thrust forwards again to gain a passage--of which sorts your worship might have seen three famous ones at _Spires_ before its destruction--and one now at _Brisac_, if I mistake not; --but my father advising my uncle _Toby_, with great earnestness, to have nothing more to do with thrusting bridges--and my uncle foreseeing moreover that it would but perpetuate the memory of the Corporal's misfortune--he changed his mind for that of the marquis _d'Hpital's_ invention, which the younger _Bernouilli_ has so well and learnedly described, as your worships may see------_Act. Erud. Lips._ an. 1695--to these a lead weight is an eternal balance, and keeps watch as well as a couple of centinels, inasmuch as the construction of them was a curve line approximating to a cycloid------if not a cycloid itself. My uncle _Toby_ understood the nature of a parabola as well as any man in _England_--but was not quite such a master of the cycloid; ----he talked however about it every day----the bridge went not forwards. ----We'll ask somebody about it, cried my uncle _Toby_ to _Trim_.

The draw-bridge being irreparable, Trim was ordered to start another - but not upon the same model: for my uncle Toby rightly foreseeing that warfare would break out betwixt Spain and the Empire, and that the campaign must in all likelihood be in Naples or Sicily, he determined upon an Italian bridge. When Corporal Trim had about half finished it, my uncle Toby found a defect which he had never considered before. The draw-bridge turned upon hinges at both ends, opening in the middle, one half turning to one side of the fosse, and the other to the other. The advantage of this was, that by dividing the weight of the bridge into two equal portions, it allowed my uncle to raise it up or let it down with the end of his crutch; but the disadvantages were great - 'for by this means,' he would say, 'I leave one half of my bridge in my enemy's possession, and pray of what use is the other?' The natural remedy for this was to have his bridge fastened only at one end with hinges, so that the whole might be lifted up together, and stand bolt upright - but that would require too much strength to operate. For a whole week, my uncle Toby was determined to have one constructed to draw back horizontally, to hinder a passage; and to thrust forwards again to gain a passage - but on my father advising him earnestly to have nothing more to do with thrusting bridges, he changed his mind for that of the marquis d'Hpital's invention: with a lead weight as an eternal balance, constructed in a curve approximating to a cycloid - if not a cycloid itself. My uncle Toby understood the nature of a parabola as well as any man in England, but was not quite such a master of the cycloid. 'We'll ask somebody about it,' he cried to Trim.

Tristram Shandy

Book 3 - Chapter 25

Though in one sense, our family was certainly a simple machine, as it consisted of a few wheels; yet there was thus much to be said for it, that these wheels were set in motion by so many different springs, and acted one upon the other from such a variety of strange principles and impulses----that though it was a simple machine, it had all the honour and advantages of a complex one, ----and a number of as odd movements within it, as ever were beheld in the inside of a _Dutch_ silk-mill. Amongst these there was one, I am going to speak of, in which, perhaps, it was not altogether so singular, as in many others; and it was this, that whatever motion, debate, harangue, dialogue, project, or dissertation, was going forwards in the parlour, there was generally another at the same time, and upon the same subject, running parallel along with it in the kitchen. Now to bring this about, whenever an extraordinary message, or letter, was delivered in the parlour--or a discourse suspended till a servant went out--or the lines of discontent were observed to hang upon the brows of my father or mother--or, in short, when anything was supposed to be upon the tapis worth knowing or listening to, 'twas the rule to leave the door, not absolutely shut, but somewhat a-jar--as it stands just now, --which, under covert of the bad hinge (and that possibly might be one of the many reasons why it was never mended), it was not difficult to manage; by which means, in all these cases, a passage was generally left, not indeed as wide as the _Dardanelles_, but wide enough, for all that, to carry on as much of this wind-ward trade, as was sufficient to save my father the trouble of governing his house; --my mother at this moment stands profiting by it. --_Obadiah_ did the same thing, as soon as he had left the letter upon the table which brought the news of my brother's death, so that before my father had well got over his surprise, and entered upon this harangue, --had _Trim_ got upon his legs, to speak his sentiments upon the subject. A curious observer of nature, had he been worth the inventory of all Job's stock--though by the by, _your curious observers are seldom worth a groat_--would have given the half of it, to have heard Corporal _Trim_ and my father, two orators so contrasted by nature and education, haranguing over the same bier. My father--a man of deep reading--prompt memory--with _Cato_, and _Seneca_, and _Epictetus_, at his fingers ends.-- The corporal--with nothing--to remember--of no deeper reading than his muster-roll--or greater names at his fingers end, than the contents of it. The one proceeding from period to period, by metaphor and allusion, and striking the fancy as he went along (as men of wit and fancy do) with the entertainment and pleasantry of his pictures and images. The other, without wit or antithesis, or point, or turn, this way or that; but leaving the images on one side, and the picture on the other, going straight forwards as nature could lead him, to the heart. O _Trim!_ would to heaven thou had'st a better historian! --would thy historian had a better pair of breeches! ----O ye critics! will nothing melt you?

Though in one sense, our family was a simple machine, consisting of only a few wheels; yet these wheels were set in motion by so many different springs, and such a variety of strange principles and impulses - that although it was a simple machine, it had all the appearance of a complex one, with as many odd movements within it as ever were beheld in the inside of a Dutch silk-mill. Amongst them was this effect: that whatever debate or dialogue was going on in the parlour, there was generally another at the same time, and upon the same subject, running parallel along with it in the kitchen. Now to bring this about, whenever an extraordinary message or letter was delivered in the parlour - or my mother or father were observed by the servants to be arguing or discontented - in short, when there was anything worth knowing or listening to, 'twas the rule to leave the door not absolutely shut, but somewhat ajar - as it stands just now - which, under cover of the bad hinge (and that might be one of the many reasons why it was never mended) was not difficult to manage. My mother at this moment stands profiting by this gap. - Obadiah did the same thing, as soon as he had left the letter with the news of my brother's death; so that before my father had got over his surprise, and begun his speech, Trim in the kitchen had stood up to speak his sentiments on the subject. A curious observer would have given a great deal to have heard Corporal Trim and my father, two orators so contrasted by nature and education, haranguing over the same bier. My father - a man of deep reading and prompt memory - with Cato and Seneca at his fingers' ends. The corporal - with no deeper reading than his muster-roll. The one proceeding from metaphor to allusion, and striking the fancy as he went along with the pleasantry of his images. The other, without wit or antithesis, leaving the images aside, and going straight to the heart. O Trim! would to heaven thou had'st a better historian! - O ye critics! will nothing melt you?

Tristram Shandy

Book 5 - Chapter 6

I had not gone above two leagues and a half, before the man with his gun began to look at his priming. I had three several times loiter'd _terribly_ behind; half a mile at least every time; once, in deep conference with a drum-maker, who was making drums for the fairs of _Baucaira_ and _Tarascone_ --I did not understand the principles---- The second time, I cannot so properly say, I stopp'd----for meeting a couple of _Franciscans_ straitened more for time than myself, and not being able to get to the bottom of what I was about ----I had turn'd back with them---- The third, was an affair of trade with a gossip, for a hand-basket of _Provence_ figs for four sous; this would have been transacted at once; but for a case of conscience at the close of it; for when the figs were paid for, it turn'd out, that there were two dozen of eggs cover'd over with vine-leaves at the bottom of the basket--as I had no intention of buying eggs --I made no sort of claim of them--as for the space they had occupied--what signified it? I had figs enow for my money---- --But it was my intention to have the basket--it was the gossip's intention to keep it, without which, she could do nothing with her eggs----and unless I had the basket, I could do as little with my figs, which were too ripe already, and most of 'em burst at the side: this brought on a short contention, which terminated in sundry proposals, what we should both do---- ----How we disposed of our eggs and figs, I defy you, or the Devil himself, had he not been there (which I am persuaded he was), to form the least probable conjecture: You will read the whole of it------not this year, for I am hastening to the story of my uncle _Toby's_ amours--but you will read it in the collection of those which have arose out of the journey across this plain--and which, therefore, I call my PLAIN STORIES. How far my pen has been fatigued, like those of other travellers, in this journey of it, over so barren a track--the world must judge--but the traces of it, which are now all set o' vibrating together this moment, tell me 'tis the most fruitful and busy period of my life; for as I had made no convention with my man with the gun, as to time--by stopping and talking to every soul I met, who was not in a full trot--joining all parties before me--waiting for every soul behind--hailing all those who were coming through cross-roads--arresting all kinds of beggars, pilgrims, fiddlers, friars----not passing by a woman in a mulberry-tree without commending her legs, and tempting her into conversation with a pinch of snuff ------In short, by seizing every handle, of what size or shape soever, which chance held out to me in this journey --I turned my _plain_ into a _city_ --I was always in company, and with great variety too; and as my mule loved society as much as myself, and had some proposals always on his part to offer to every beast he met --I am confident we could have passed through _Pall-Mall_, or St. _James's_-Street for a month together, with fewer adventures--and seen less of human nature. O! there is that sprightly frankness, which at once unpins every plait of a _Languedocian's_ dress--that whatever is beneath it, it looks so like the simplicity which poets sing of in better days --I will delude my fancy, and believe it is so. 'Twas in the road betwixt _Nismes_ and _Lunel_, where there is the best _Muscatto_ wine in all _France_, and which by the bye belongs to the honest canons of MONTPELLIER--and foul befal the man who has drank it at their table, who grudges them a drop of it. ----The sun was set--they had done their work; the nymphs had tied up their hair afresh--and the swains were preparing for a carousal----my mule made a dead point----'Tis the fife and tabourin, said I ----I'm frighten'd to death, quoth he ----They are running at the ring of pleasure, said I, giving him a prick ----By saint _Boogar_, and all the saints at the backside of the door of purgatory, said he--(making the same resolution with the abbesse of _Andoillets_) I'll not go a step further------'Tis very well, sir, said I ----I never will argue a point with one of your family, as long as I live; so leaping off his back, and kicking off one boot into this ditch, and t'other into that --I'll take a dance, said I--so stay you here. A sun-burnt daughter of Labour rose up from the groupe to meet me, as I advanced towards them; her hair, which was a dark chesnut approaching rather to a black, was tied up in a knot, all but a single tress. We want a cavalier, said she, holding out both her hands, as if to offer them --And a cavalier ye shall have; said I, taking hold of both of them. Hadst thou, _Nannette_, been array'd like a dutchesse! ----But that cursed slit in thy petticoat! _Nannette_ cared not for it. We could not have done without you, said she, letting go one hand, with self-taught politeness, leading me up with the other. A lame youth, whom _Apollo_ had recompensed with a pipe, and to which he had added a tabourin of his own accord, ran sweetly over the prelude, as he sat upon the bank ----Tie me up this tress instantly, said _Nannette_, putting a piece of string into my hand --It taught me to forget I was a stranger ----The whole knot fell down ----We had been seven years acquainted. The youth struck the note upon the tabourin--his pipe followed, and off we bounded---- "the duce take that slit!" The sister of the youth, who had stolen her voice from heaven, sung alternately with her brother----'twas a _Gascoigne_ roundelay. VIVA LA JOIA! FIDON LA TRISTESSA! The nymphs join'd in unison, and their swains an octave below them---- I would have given a crown to have it sew'd up--_Nannette_ would not have given a SOUS--_Viva la joia!_ was in her lips--_Viva la joia!_ was in her eyes. A transient spark of amity shot across the space betwixt us ----She look'd amiable! ----Why could I not live, and end my days thus? Just Disposer of our joys and sorrows, cried I, why could not a man sit down in the lap of content here----and dance, and sing, and say his prayers, and go to heaven with this nut-brown maid? Capriciously did she bend her head on one side, and dance up insidious ----Then 'tis time to dance off, quoth I; so changing only partners and tunes, I danced it away from _Lunel_ to _Montpellier_----from thence to _Pesnas_, _Beziers_ ----I danced it along through _Narbonne_, _Carcasson_, and _Castle Naudairy_, till at last I danced myself into _Perdrillo's_ pavillion, where pulling out a paper of black lines, that I might go on straight forwards, without digression or parenthesis, in my uncle _Toby's_ amours---- I begun thus----

I had not gone above two leagues and a half, before the man with his gun began to look at his priming. I had three times loitered terribly behind, half a mile at least every time; once, talking to a drum-maker - I did not understand his craft- The second time, I met a couple of Franciscans more short of time than myself, and not being able to get to the bottom of what I was about - I had turned back with them- The third time was to trade with a gossip, a basket of Provence figs for four sous; but when the figs were paid for, it turned out that there were two dozen eggs covered with vine-leaves at the bottom of the basket. I had no intention of buying eggs- But I wanted the basket - and the gossip wanted to keep it, or she could do nothing with her eggs - and without it I could do nothing with my figs, which were too ripe already, and most of 'em burst at the side: this brought on a short argument, which ended in different proposals about what we should both do. - How we disposed of our eggs and figs, I defy you to guess. You will read the whole of it - not this year, for I am hastening to the story of my uncle Toby's amours - but you will read it in the collection of stories which arose out of the journey across this plain - and which, therefore, I call my PLAIN STORIES. How fatigued my pen has been in this journey over so barren a track, the world must judge - but the traces of it, which are all vibrating together this moment, tell me 'tis the most fruitful and busy period of my life; for as I had made no agreement with my man with the gun, as to time - by stopping and talking to every soul I met - joining all parties before me - waiting for everyone behind - hailing all kinds of pilgrims, fiddlers and friars - not passing a woman in a mulberry-tree without commending her legs, and tempting her into conversation with a pinch of snuff- In short, by seizing every handle which chance held out to me in this journey, I turned my plain into a city. - I was always in company, and as my mule loved society as much as myself, and had some proposals to offer to every beast he met - I am confident we could have passed through London for a month with fewer adventures. O! there is that sprightly frankness in the Languedocians that looks like the simplicity which poets sing of in better days. - I will delude my fancy, and believe it is so. 'Twas in the road betwixt Nismes and Lunel, where there is the best Muscatto wine in France. The sun was set - work was finished; the nymphs had tied up their hair - the men were preparing for a carousal - my mule stopped dead. ''Tis the fife and tambourine,' said I. 'I'm frightened to death,' quoth he. 'By saint Boogar, I'll not go a step further.' 'Very well, sir,' said I, leaping off his back, and kicking off my boots. 'I'll take a dance, - so stay you here.' A sun-burnt daughter of Labour rose up from the group to meet me as I advanced; her chestnut hair was tied up in a knot, but for a single tress. 'We want a cavalier,' said she, holding out her hands. 'And a cavalier ye shall have,' said I, taking them. Hadst thou only, Nannette, been dressed like a duchess! - But that cursed slit in thy petticoat! Nannette cared not for it. She led me up by the hand. A lame youth with a pipe and a tambourine ran sweetly over the prelude, as he sat upon the bank. 'Tie me up this tress of hair,' said Nannette, putting a piece of string into my hand . - I forgot I was a stranger. - The knot fell down - we had been seven years acquainted. The youth played - and off we bounded. The youth's sister sang like an angel - 'twas a Gascoigne roundelay. VIVA LA JOIA! FIDON LA TRISTESSA! The nymphs joined in, and their swains an octave below them. 'Viva la joia!' was on Nanette's lips - and in her eyes. A spark of amity shot across the space betwixt us. Why could I not live and end my days thus? why could not a man sit down in the lap of content here - and dance, and sing, and say his prayers, and go to heaven with this nut-brown maid? ''Tis time to dance off,' quoth I; so changing partners and tunes, I danced it away from Lunel to Montpellier - from thence to Beziers - through Narbonne and Carcasson, till at last I danced myself into Perdrillo's pavilion, where pulling out a lined paper, so that I might go straight on, without digression, to my uncle Toby's amours- I began thus-

Tristram Shandy

Book 7 - Chapter 43

I told the Christian reader in the beginning of the chapter which preceded my uncle _Toby's_ apologetical oration, --though in a different trope from what I should make use of now, That the peace of _Utrecht_ was within an ace of creating the same shyness betwixt my uncle _Toby_ and his hobby-horse, as it did betwixt the queen and the rest of the confederating powers. There is an indignant way in which a man sometimes dismounts his horse, which as good as says to him, "I'll go afoot, Sir, all the days of my life, before I would ride a single mile upon your back again." Now my uncle _Toby_ could not be said to dismount his horse in this manner; for in strictness of language, he could not be said to dismount his horse at all----his horse rather flung him----and somewhat _viciously_, which made my uncle _Toby_ take it ten times more unkindly. Let this matter be settled by state-jockies as they like. ----It created, I say, a sort of shyness betwixt my uncle _Toby_ and his hobby-horse. ----He had no occasion for him from the month of _March_ to _November_, which was the summer after the articles were signed, except it was now and then to take a short ride out, just to see that the fortifications and harbour of _Dunkirk_ were demolished, according to stipulation. The _French_ were so backwards all that summer in setting about that affair, and Monsieur _Tugghe_, the Deputy from the magistrates of _Dunkirk_, presented so many affecting petitions to the queen, --beseeching her majesty to cause only her thunder-bolts to fall upon the martial works, which might have incurred her displeasure, --but to spare--to spare the mole, for the mole's sake; which, in its naked situation, could be no more than an object of pity----and the queen (who was but a woman) being of a pitiful disposition, --and her ministers also, they not wishing in their hearts to have the town dismantled, for these private reasons, * * * * * * * * * * * ---- * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * ; so that the whole went heavily on with my uncle _Toby_; insomuch, that it was not within three full months, after he and the corporal had constructed the town, and put it in a condition to be destroyed, that the several commandants, commissaries, deputies, negociators, and intendants, would permit him to set about it. ----Fatal interval of inactivity! The corporal was for beginning the demolition, by making a breach in the ramparts, or main fortifications of the town ----No, --that will never do, corporal, said my uncle _Toby_, for in going that way to work with the town, the _English_ garrison will not be safe in it an hour; because if the _French_ are treacherous ----They are as treacherous as devils, an' please your honour, said the corporal ----It gives me concern always when I hear it, _Trim_, said my uncle _Toby_, --for they don't want personal bravery; and if a breach is made in the ramparts, they may enter it, and make themselves masters of the place when they please: ----Let them enter it, said the corporal, lifting up his pioneer's spade in both his hands, as if he was going to lay about him with it, --let them enter, an' please your honour, if they dare. ----In cases like this, corporal, said my uncle _Toby_, slipping his right hand down to the middle of his cane, and holding it afterwards truncheon-wise with his forefinger extended, ----'tis no part of the consideration of a commandant, what the enemy dare, --or what they dare not do; he must act with prudence. We will begin with the outworks both towards the sea and the land, and particularly with fort _Louis_, the most distant of them all, and demolish it first, --and the rest, one by one, both on our right and left, as we retreat towards the town; ----then we'll demolish the mole, --next fill up the harbour, --then retire into the citadel, and blow it up into the air: and having done that, corporal, we'll embark for _England_. ----We are there, quoth the corporal, recollecting himself ----Very true, said my uncle _Toby_--looking at the church.

I told the Christian reader in the beginning of the chapter which preceded my uncle Toby's apologetical oration, that the peace of Utrecht almost parted my uncle Toby from his hobby-horse. There is an indignant way in which a man sometimes dismounts his horse, which as good as says, 'I'll go afoot all my life, before I would ride a single mile upon your back again.' Now my uncle Toby could not be said to dismount his horse in this manner, or indeed, at all - rather, his horse flung him - and somewhat viciously. It created a sort of shyness betwixt my uncle Toby and his hobby-horse. He had no use for him from March to November, except now and then to take a short ride out, just to see that the fortifications and harbour of Dunkirk were correctly demolished. The French were so backwards all that summer in setting about it, and Monsieur Tugghe, the Deputy at Dunkirk, presented so many affecting petitions to the queen, beseeching her to cause her thunder-bolts to fall only upon the martial works; and the queen having pity, and her ministers not wishing to have the town dismantled, for these private reasons, * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * - it was three full months after my uncle Toby and the corporal had constructed the town, ready to be destroyed, that the commandants, deputies and negotiators would permit him to do so. -Fatal inactivity! The corporal was all for beginning the demolition, by making a breach in the ramparts. 'No, that will never do,' said my uncle Toby, 'for then the English garrison will not be safe an hour; because if the French are treacherous-' 'They are as treacherous as devils, your honour,' said the corporal. 'It gives me concern to hear it, Trim,' said my uncle Toby, 'for they don't lack personal bravery; and if a breach is made in the ramparts, they may enter it, and make themselves masters of the place.' 'Let them enter, if they dare,' said the corporal, brandishing his spade. 'In cases like this, corporal,' said my uncle Toby, 'a commandant must act with prudence. We will begin with the outworks towards the sea and the land, and demolish the most distant, Fort Louis, first - and the rest, one by one, as we retreat towards the town; then we'll fill up the harbour - retire into the citadel, and blow it up: and then, corporal, we'll embark for England.' 'We are there,' quoth the corporal, recollecting himself. 'Very true,' said my uncle Toby, looking at the church.

Tristram Shandy

Book 6 - Chapter 34

The whole secret of health, said my father, beginning the sentence again, depending evidently upon the due contention betwixt the radical heat and radical moisture within us; --the least imaginable skill had been sufficient to have maintained it, had not the schoolmen confounded the talk, merely (as _Van Helmont_, the famous chymist, has proved) by all along mistaking the radical moisture for the tallow and fat of animal bodies. Now the radical moisture is not the tallow or fat of animals, but an oily and balsamous substance; for the fat and tallow, as also the phlegm or watery parts, are cold; whereas the oily and balsamous parts are of a lively heat and spirit, which accounts for the observation of _Aristotle_, "_Quod omne animal post coitum est _triste_._" Now it is certain, that the radical heat lives in the radical moisture, but whether _vice vers_, is a doubt: however, when the one decays, the other decays also; and then is produced, either an unnatural heat, which causes an unnatural dryness----or an unnatural moisture, which causes dropsies. ----So that if a child, as he grows up, can but be taught to avoid running into fire or water, as either of 'em threaten his destruction, ----'twill be all that is needful to be done upon that head.----

'The whole secret of health,' said my father, beginning the sentence again, 'depends upon the contention betwixt the radical heat and radical moisture within us; hardly any skill would be needed to maintain it, if only the schoolmen had not confused matters (as Van Helmont, the famous chemist, has proved) by mistaking the radical moisture for the fat of animal bodies. 'Now the radical moisture is not the fat of animals, but an oily and balsamous substance; for the fat is cold; whereas the oily and balsamous parts are of a lively heat and spirit, which accounts for the observation of Aristotle, "Quod omne animal post coitum est triste." 'Now it is certain that the radical heat lives in the radical moisture, but whether vice versa, is a doubt. However, when the one decays, the other decays also; causing either an unnatural heat and dryness - or an unnatural moisture, leading to dropsies. So that if a child, as he grows up, can be taught to avoid running into fire or water, as either of 'em threaten his destruction, 'twill be all that needs to be done on that account.'

Tristram Shandy

Book 5 - Chapter 36

Was I in a condition to stipulate with Death, as I am this moment with my apothecary, how and where I will take his clyster ----I should certainly declare against submitting to it before my friends; and therefore I never seriously think upon the mode and manner of this great catastrophe, which generally takes up and torments my thoughts as much as the catastrophe itself; but I constantly draw the curtain across it with this wish, that the Disposer of all things may so order it, that it happen not to me in my own house----but rather in some decent inn----at home, I know it, ----the concern of my friends, and the last services of wiping my brows, and smoothing my pillow, which the quivering hand of pale affection shall pay me, will so crucify my soul; that I shall die of a distemper which my physician is not aware of: but in an inn, the few cold offices I wanted, would be purchased with a few guineas, and paid me with an undisturbed, but punctual attention----but mark. This inn should not be the inn at _Abbeville_----if there was not another inn in the universe, I would strike that inn out of the capitulation: so Let the horses be in the chaise exactly by four in the morning ----Yes, by four, Sir, ----or by _Genevieve!_ I'll raise a clatter in the house shall wake the dead.

If I could tell Death, like my apothecary, how and where I will take his purge - I should certainly refuse to submit to it before my friends. Therefore I never seriously think upon the manner of this great catastrophe, which torments my thoughts as much as the catastrophe itself; but I constantly draw the curtain across it with this wish, that God may let it happen to me not in my own house - but rather in some decent inn. At home, I know, the concern of my friends, wiping my brows and smoothing my pillow, will crucify my soul; but in an inn, the few cold services I wanted would be purchased with a few guineas, and provided with an undisturbed, but punctual attention. - But mark. This inn should not be the inn at Abbeville, even if there was no other inn in the universe. Let the horses be ready by four in the morning - Yes, by four, Sir! or I'll raise a clatter in the house shall wake the dead.

Tristram Shandy

Book 7 - Chapter 12

Now, for what the world thinks of that ejaculation ----I would not give a groat.

Now, for what the world thinks of that ejaculation - I would not give a penny.

Tristram Shandy

Book 9 - Chapter 9

When the misfortune of my NOSE fell so heavily upon my father's head; --the reader remembers that he walked instantly up stairs, and cast himself down upon his bed; and from hence, unless he has a great insight into human nature, he will be apt to expect a rotation of the same ascending and descending movements from him, upon his misfortune of my NAME; ----no. The different weight, dear Sir----nay even the different package of two vexations of the same weight----makes a very wide difference in our manner of bearing and getting through with them. ----It is not half an hour ago, when (in the great hurry and precipitation of a poor devil's writing for daily bread) I threw a fair sheet, which I had just finished, and carefully wrote out, slap into the fire, instead of the foul one. Instantly I snatch'd off my wig, and threw it perpendicularly, with all imaginable violence, up to the top of the room--indeed I caught it as it fell----but there was an end of the matter; nor do I think anything else in _Nature_ would have given such immediate ease: She, dear Goddess, by an instantaneous impulse, in all _provoking cases_, determines us to a sally of this or that member--or else she thrusts us into this or that place or posture of body, we know not why ----But mark, madam, we live amongst riddles and mysteries----the most obvious things, which come in our way, have dark sides, which the quickest sight cannot penetrate into; and even the clearest and most exalted understandings amongst us find ourselves puzzled and at a loss in almost every cranny of nature's works: so that this, like a thousand other things, falls out for us in a way, which tho' we cannot reason upon it--yet we find the good of it, may it please your reverences and your worships----and that's enough for us. Now, my father could not lie down with this affliction for his life----nor could he carry it up stairs like the other--he walked composedly out with it to the fish-pond. Had my father leaned his head upon his hand, and reasoned an hour which way to have gone------reason, with all her force, could not have directed him to anything like it: there is something, Sir, in fish-ponds----but what it is, I leave to system-builders and fish-pond-diggers betwixt 'em to find out--but there is something, under the first disorderly transport of the humours, so unaccountably becalming in an orderly and a sober walk towards one of them, that I have often wondered that neither _Pythagoras_, nor _Plato_, nor _Solon_, nor _Lycurgus_, nor _Mahomet_, nor any one of your noted lawgivers, ever gave order about them.

When the misfortune of my Nose fell so heavily upon my father - the reader remembers that he walked upstairs, and cast himself upon his bed; and hence will expect the same movements from him, upon his misfortune of my Name: - no. The different weight, dear Sir - nay, even the different packaging of two vexations of the same weight - makes a very wide difference in our manner of bearing them. Only half an hour ago, in my hurry, I threw a fair page which I had just finished writing out, slap into the fire, instead of the foul one. Instantly I snatched off my wig, and threw it with all my force up to the ceiling - indeed I caught it as it fell - but there was an end of the matter. I do not think anything else in Nature would have given such immediate ease. She, dear Goddess, in provoking cases, thrusts us into this or that posture, we know not why - but we live amongst riddles and mysteries; though we cannot reason upon it - yet we benefit from it - and that's enough. Now, my father could not lie down with this affliction - nor could he carry it upstairs like the other. He walked composedly out with it to the fish-pond. Had my father leaned his head upon his hand, and reasoned an hour which way to go, reason would not have directed him there: but there is something, Sir, so unaccountably becalming in an orderly and sober walk towards a fish-pond, that I have often wondered that neither Pythagoras, nor Plato, nor Solon, nor Lycurgus, nor Mahomet, nor any of your noted lawgivers, ever gave orders about them.

Tristram Shandy

Book 4 - Chapter 17

I have begun a new book, on purpose that I might have room enough to explain the nature of the perplexities in which my uncle _Toby_ was involved, from the many discourses and interrogations about the siege of _Namur_, where he received his wound. I must remind the reader, in case he has read the history of King _William's_ wars, --but if he has not, --I then inform him, that one of the most memorable attacks in that siege, was that which was made by the _English_ and _Dutch_ upon the point of the advanced counterscarp, between the gate of _St. Nicolas_, which inclosed the great sluice or water-stop, where the _English_ were terribly exposed to the shot of the counter-guard and demi-bastion of _St. Roch_. The issue of which hot dispute, in three words, was this; That the _Dutch_ lodged themselves upon the counter-guard, --and that the _English_ made themselves masters of the covered-way before _St. Nicolas_-gate, notwithstanding the gallantry of the _French_ officers, who exposed themselves upon the glacis sword in hand. As this was the principal attack of which my uncle _Toby_ was an eye-witness at _Namur_, ----the army of the besiegers being cut off, by the confluence of the _Maes_ and _Sambre_, from seeing much of each other's operations, ----my uncle _Toby_ was generally more eloquent and particular in his account of it; and the many perplexities he was in, arose out of the almost insurmountable difficulties he found in telling his story intelligibly, and giving such clear ideas of the differences and distinctions between the scarp and counter-scarp, --the glacis and covered-way, --the half-moon and ravelin, --as to make his company fully comprehend where and what he was about. Writers themselves are too apt to confound these terms; so that you will the less wonder, if in his endeavours to explain them, and in opposition to many misconceptions, that my uncle _Toby_ did oft-times puzzle his visitors, and sometimes himself too. To speak the truth, unless the company my father led upstairs were tolerably clear-headed, or my uncle _Toby_ was in one of his explanatory moods, 'twas a difficult thing, do what he could, to keep the discourse free from obscurity. What rendered the account of this affair the more intricate to my uncle _Toby_, was this, --that in the attack of the counterscarp, before the gate of _St. Nicolas_, extending itself from the bank of the _Maes_, quite up to the great water-stop, --the ground was cut and cross cut with such a multitude of dykes, drains, rivulets, and sluices, on all sides, --and he would get so sadly bewildered, and set fast amongst them, that frequently he could neither get backwards or forwards to save his life; and was oft-times obliged to give up the attack upon that very account only. These perplexing rebuffs gave my uncle _Toby Shandy_ more perturbations than you would imagine: and as my father's kindness to him was continually dragging up fresh friends and fresh enquirers, ----he had but a very uneasy task of it. No doubt my uncle _Toby_ had great command of himself, could guard appearances, I believe, as well as most men; --yet any one may imagine, that when he could not retreat out of the ravelin without getting into the half-moon, or get out of the covered-way without falling down the counterscarp, nor cross the dyke without danger of slipping into the ditch, but that he must have fretted and fumed inwardly: --He did so; and the little and hourly vexations, which may seem trifling and of no account to the man who has not read _Hippocrates_, yet, whoever has read _Hippocrates_, or Dr. _James Mackenzie_, and has considered well the effects which the passions and affections of the mind have upon the digestion--(Why not of a wound as well as of a dinner?)--may easily conceive what sharp paroxysms and exacerbations of his wound my uncle _Toby_ must have undergone upon that score only. --My uncle _Toby_ could not philosophize upon it; --'twas enough he felt it was so, --and having sustained the pain and sorrows of it for three months together, he was resolved some way or other to extricate himself. He was one morning lying upon his back in his bed, the anguish and nature of the wound upon his groin suffering him to lie in no other position, when a thought came into his head, that if he could purchase such a thing, and have it pasted down upon a board, as a large map of the fortification of the town and citadel of _Namur_, with its environs, it might be a means of giving him ease. --I take notice of his desire to have the environs along with the town and citadel, for this reason, --because my uncle _Toby's_ wound was got in one of the traverses, about thirty toises from the returning angle of the trench, opposite to the salient angle of the demi-bastion of _St. Roch_: ----so that he was pretty confident he could stick a pin upon the identical spot of ground where he was standing on when the stone struck him. All this succeeded to his wishes, and not only freed him from a world of sad explanations, but, in the end, it proved the happy means, as you will read, of procuring my uncle _Toby_ his HOBBY-HORSE.

I have begun a new book, so that I might have room enough to explain the perplexities in which my uncle Toby was involved, from the many questions about the siege of Namur, where he received his wound. I must remind the reader, if he has read the history of King William's wars, that one of the most memorable attacks in that siege was made by the English and Dutch upon the point of the counterscarp, at the gate of St. Nicolas, which enclosed the great sluice where the English were terribly exposed to the shot of the counter-guard of St. Roch. The result of that dispute, in three words, was this: that the Dutch lodged themselves upon the counter-guard, and that the English held the covered-way before St. Nicolas-gate, notwithstanding the gallantry of the French officers on the glacis. As my uncle Toby was an eye-witness at Namur, he was generally eloquent in his account of it; and the many perplexities he was in, arose out of the difficulties he found in making clear the differences between the scarp and counter-scarp, the glacis and covered-way, and the half-moon and ravelin, so that his company would fully comprehend where and what he was about. In trying to explain these terms, my uncle Toby did oft-times puzzle his visitors, and sometimes himself too. To speak the truth, unless the company my father led upstairs were very clear-headed, or my uncle Toby was in one of his explanatory moods, 'twas difficult to keep the discourse free from obscurity. What especially perplexed my uncle Toby was this: that in the attack of the counterscarp, before the gate of St. Nicolas, extending from the bank of the Maes up to the water-stop, the ground was cut across with such a multitude of dykes, drains, rivulets, and sluices, - and he would get so bewildered amongst them, that frequently he could neither go backwards or forwards; and was obliged to give up the attack on that account. This perturbed my uncle Toby more than you would imagine: and as my father's kindness was continually dragging up fresh enquirers, he had a very uneasy time. When he could not retreat out of the ravelin without getting into the half-moon, or get out of the covered-way without falling down the counterscarp, nor cross the dyke without slipping into the ditch, he must have fretted inwardly. These little vexations, which may seem trifling to the man who has not read Hippocrates, - yet whoever has read Hippocrates or Dr. James Mackenzie, and has considered well the effects which the passions have upon the digestion - (Why not of a wound as well as of a dinner?) - may easily conceive what sharp paroxysms of his wound my uncle Toby must have undergone. Having borne the pain of it for three months together, he resolved to extricate himself. He was one morning lying upon his back in his bed, the wound upon his groin allowing him to lie in no other position, when a thought came into his head, that if he could have pasted upon a board a large map of the citadel of Namur and its environs, it might be a means of giving him ease. I note his desire to have the environs along with the citadel, because my uncle Toby's wound was got in one of the traverses, about a hundred yards from the angle of the trench opposite the demi-bastion of St. Roch: - so that he was pretty confident he could stick a pin upon the identical spot of ground where the stone struck him. All this was fulfilled, and not only freed him from a world of sad explanations, but proved the happy means, as you will read, of providing my uncle Toby with his Hobby-Horse.

Tristram Shandy

Book 2 - Chapter 1

I am a _Turk_ if I had not as much forgot my mother, as if Nature had plaistered me up, and set me down naked upon the banks of the river _Nile_, without one. ----Your most obedient servant, Madam --I've cost you a great deal of trouble, --I wish it may answer; --but you have left a crack in my back, --and here's a great piece fallen off here before, --and what must I do with this foot? ----I shall never reach _England_ with it. For my own part, I never wonder at any thing; --and so often has my judgment deceived me in my life, that I always suspect it, right or wrong, --at least I am seldom hot upon cold subjects. For all this, I reverence truth as much as any body; and when it has slipped us, if a man will but take me by the hand, and go quietly and search for it, as for a thing we have both lost, and can neither of us do well without, --I'll go to the world's end with him: ----But I hate disputes, --and therefore (bating religious points, or such as touch society) I would almost subscribe to any thing which does not choak me in the first passage, rather than be drawn into one. ----But I cannot bear suffocation, ----and bad smells worst of all. ----For which reasons, I resolved from the beginning, That if ever the army of martyrs was to be augmented, --or a new one raised, --I would have no hand in it, one way or t'other.

I am a Turk if I had not forgot my mother! I don't wonder at it; so often has my judgment deceived me, that I always suspect it, right or wrong. For all this, I respect truth as much as anybody; and when it has slipped away from us, if a man will but take me by the hand, and go quietly to search for it, as for a thing we have both lost, I'll go to the world's end with him. But I hate disputes, and therefore (apart from religious points, or those concerning society) I would almost agree to anything that does not choke me, rather than be drawn into one. Yet I cannot bear suffocation - and bad smells worst of all. For which reasons, I have resolved that if ever the army of martyrs was to be increased, I would have no hand in it, one way or t'other.

Tristram Shandy

Book 5 - Chapter 11

If anything in this world, which my father said, could have provoked my uncle _Toby_, during the time he was in love, it was the perverse use my father was always making of an expression of _Hilarion_ the hermit; who, in speaking of his abstinence, his watchings, flagellations, and other instrumental parts of his religion--would say--tho' with more facetiousness than became an hermit-- "That they were the means he used, to make his _ass_ (meaning his body) leave off kicking." It pleased my father well; it was not only a laconick way of expressing----but of libelling, at the same time, the desires and appetites of the lower part of us; so that for many years of my father's life, 'twas his constant mode of expression--he never used the word _passions_ once--but _ass_ always instead of them ----So that he might be said truly, to have been upon the bones, or the back of his own ass, or else of some other man's, during all that time. I must here observe to you the difference betwixt My father's ass and my hobby-horse--in order to keep characters as separate as may be, in our fancies as we go along. For my hobby-horse, if you recollect a little, is no way a vicious beast; he has scarce one hair or lineament of the ass about him----'Tis the sporting little filly-folly which carries you out for the present hour--a maggot, a butterfly, a picture, a fiddlestick--an uncle _Toby's_ siege--or an _anything_, which a man makes a shift to get a-stride on, to canter it away from the cares and solicitudes of life--'Tis as useful a beast as is in the whole creation--nor do I really see how the world would do without it---- ----But for my father's ass------oh! mount him--mount him--mount him--(that's three times, is it not?)--mount him not: --'tis a beast concupiscent--and foul befal the man, who does not hinder him from kicking.

If anything which my father said could have provoked my uncle Toby while he was in love, it was the perverse use my father was always making of an expression of Hilarion the hermit; who, in speaking of his abstinence, his flagellations, and other parts of his religion, would say - though with more facetiousness than became a hermit - 'That they were the means he used, to make his ass (meaning his body) leave off kicking.' It pleased my father well; it was a laconic way of expressing and libelling, at the same time, the desires and appetites of the lower part of us; so that for many years of my father's life, he never used the word passions - but always ass instead. I must here observe to you the difference betwixt My father's ass and my hobby-horse. For my hobby-horse, if you recollect, is in no way a vicious beast; he has scarce one hair of the ass about him. - 'Tis the little filly-folly which carries you out for the present hour - a butterfly, a picture, a fiddlestick - uncle Toby's siege - or anything, which a man can get astride on, to canter away from the cares of life. 'Tis as useful a beast as exists in the whole of creation. But as for my father's ass - oh! mount him not: 'tis a lustful beast - and foul befall the man who does not stop him from kicking.

Tristram Shandy

Book 8 - Chapter 31

King _William_, said my uncle _Toby_, addressing himself to _Yorick_, was so terribly provoked at count _Solmes_ for disobeying his orders, that he would not suffer him to come into his presence for many months after. ----I fear, answered _Yorick_, the squire will be as much provoked at the corporal, as the King at the count. ----But 'twould be singularly hard in this case, continued he, if corporal _Trim_, who has behaved so diametrically opposite to count _Solmes_, should have the fate to be rewarded with the same disgrace: ----too oft in this world, do things take that train. ----I would spring a mine, cried my uncle _Toby_, rising up, ----and blow up my fortifications, and my house with them, and we would perish under their ruins, ere I would stand by and see it. ----_Trim_ directed a slight, ----but a grateful bow towards his master, ----and so the chapter ends.

'King William,' said my uncle Toby to Yorick, 'was so terribly provoked at Count Solmes for disobeying his orders, that he would not allow him in his presence for months after.' 'I fear,' answered Yorick, 'Squire Shandy will be just as much provoked at the corporal. But 'twould be singularly hard in this case, if corporal Trim, who has behaved so differently to Count Solmes, should be rewarded with the same disgrace.' 'I would blow up my fortifications,' cried my uncle Toby, 'and my house with them, and we would perish under their ruins, before I would stand by and see it.' Trim directed a grateful bow towards his master - and so the chapter ends.

Tristram Shandy

Book 5 - Chapter 22

The corporal, who the night before had resolved in his mind to supply the grand _desideratum_, of keeping up something like an incessant firing upon the enemy during the heat of the attack, --had no further idea in his fancy at that time, than a contrivance of smoking tobacco against the town, out of one of my uncle _Toby's_ six field-pieces, which were planted on each side of his sentry-box; the means of effecting which occurring to his fancy at the time same, though he had pledged his cap, he thought it in no danger from the miscarriage of his projects. Upon turning it this way, and that, a little in his mind, he soon began to find out, that by means of his two _Turkish_ tobacco-pipes, with the supplement of three smaller tubes of wash-leather at each of their lower ends, to be tagg'd by the same number of tin-pipes fitted to the touch-holes, and sealed with clay next the cannon, and then tied hermetically with waxed silk at their several insertions into the _Morocco_ tube, --he should be able to fire the six field-pieces all together, and with the same ease as to fire one.------ ----Let no man say from what taggs and jaggs hints may not be cut out for the advancement of human knowledge. Let no man, who has read my father's first and second _beds of justice_, ever rise up and say again, from collision of what kinds of bodies light may or may not be struck out, to carry the arts and sciences up to perfection. ----Heaven! thou knowest how I love them; ----thou knowest the secrets of my heart, and that I would this moment give my shirt ----Thou art a fool, _Shandy_, says _Eugenius_, for thou hast but a dozen in the world, --and 'twill break thy set.---- No matter for that, _Eugenius_; I would give the shirt off my back to be burned into tinder, were it only to satisfy one feverish enquirer, how many sparks at one good stroke, a good flint and steel could strike into the tail of it. ----Think ye not that in striking these _in_, --he might, peradventure, strike something _out?_ as sure as a gun.---- ----But this project, by the bye. The corporal sat up the best part of the night, in bringing _his_ to perfection; and having made a sufficient proof of his cannon, with charging them to the top with tobacco, --he went with contentment to bed.

The corporal, who the night before had resolved to keep up something like an incessant firing upon the enemy during the attack, - had no further idea how at that time, other than smoking tobacco out of one of my uncle Toby's six cannon beside his sentry-box. Upon turning it over in his mind, he soon decided that by means of his two Turkish tobacco-pipes, along with three smaller tubes of leather added to their lower ends, with the same number of tin-pipes fitted to the touch-holes, and sealed with clay next the cannon, and then tied with waxed silk at their insertions into the Morocco tube - he should be able to fire the six field-pieces all together, as easily as firing one. Let no man say from what tags and jags human knowledge may not be advanced. Let no man, who has read of my father's first and second beds of justice, ever say from what strange sources light may not be struck, to illuminate the arts and sciences. Heaven! thou knowest how I love them - and that I would this moment give my shirt- 'Thou art a fool, Shandy,' says Eugenius, 'for thou hast only a dozen shirts in the world.' No matter for that, Eugenius. - But to this project. The corporal sat up the best part of the night, in bringing it to perfection; and having charged his cannon to the top with tobacco, he went contentedly to bed.

Tristram Shandy

Book 6 - Chapter 26

I must observe, that although in the first year's campaign, the word _town_ is often mentioned, --yet there was no town at that time within the polygon; that addition was not made till the summer following the spring in which the bridges and sentry-box were painted, which was the third year of my uncle _Toby's_ campaigns, --when upon his taking _Amberg_, _Bonn_, and _Rhinberg_, and _Huy_ and _Limbourg_, one after another, a thought came into the corporal's head, that to talk of taking so many towns, _without one TOWN to shew for it_, --was a very nonsensical way of going to work, and so proposed to my uncle _Toby_, that they should have a little model of a town built for them, --to be run up together of slit deals, and then painted, and clapped within the interior polygon to serve for all. My uncle _Toby_ felt the good of the project instantly, and instantly agreed to it, but with the addition of two singular improvements, of which he was almost as proud as if he had been the original inventor of the project itself. The one was, to have the town built exactly in the style of those of which it was most likely to be the representative: ----with grated windows, and the gable ends of the houses, facing the streets, &c. &c. --as those in _Ghent_ and _Bruges_, and the rest of the towns in _Brabant_ and _Flanders_. The other was, not to have the houses run up together, as the corporal proposed, but to have every house independent, to hook on, or off, so as to form into the plan of whatever town they pleased. This was put directly into hand, and many and many a look of mutual congratulation was exchanged between my uncle _Toby_ and the corporal, as the carpenter did the work. ----It answered prodigiously the next summer----the town was a perfect _Proteus_ ----It was _Landen_, and _Trerebach_, and _Santvliet_, and _Drusen_, and _Hagenau_, --and then it was _Ostend_ and _Menin_, and _Aeth_ and _Dendermond_. ----Surely never did any TOWN act so many parts, since _Sodom_ and _Gomorah_, as my uncle _Toby's_ town did. In the fourth year, my uncle _Toby_ thinking a town looked foolishly without a church, added a very fine one with a steeple. ----_Trim_ was for having bells in it; ----my uncle _Toby_ said, the metal had better be cast into cannon. This led the way the next campaign for half a dozen brass field-pieces, to be planted three and three on each side of my uncle _Toby's_ sentry-box; and in a short time, these led the way for a train of somewhat larger, --and so on--(as must always be the case in hobby-horsical affairs) from pieces of half an inch bore, till it came at last to my father's jack boots. The next year, which was that in which _Lisle_ was besieged, and at the close of which both _Ghent_ and _Bruges_ fell into our hands, --my uncle _Toby_ was sadly put to it for _proper_ ammunition; ----I say proper ammunition----because his great artillery would not bear powder; and 'twas well for the _Shandy_ family they would not ----For so full were the papers, from the beginning to the end of the siege, of the incessant firings kept up by the besiegers, ----and so heated was my uncle _Toby's_ imagination with the accounts of them, that he had infallibly shot away all his estate. SOMETHING therefore was wanting as a _succedaneum_, especially in one or two of the more violent paroxysms of the siege, to keep up something like a continual firing in the imagination, ----and this _something_, the corporal, whose principal strength lay in invention, supplied by an entire new system of battering of his own, --without which, this had been objected to by military critics, to the end of the world, as one of the great _desiderata_ of my uncle _Toby's_ apparatus. This will not be explained the worse, for setting off, as I generally do, at a little distance from the subject.

I must observe, that although in the first year's campaign, the word town is often mentioned, yet a town was not added till the year after the sentry-box was painted, which was the third year of my uncle Toby's campaigns. Upon his taking Amberg, Bonn, Rhinberg, and Huy and Limbourg, one after another, a thought came into the corporal's head, that to talk of taking so many towns, without one town to show for it, was very nonsensical; and so he proposed to my uncle Toby that they should have a little wooden model of a town built, to serve for all. My uncle Toby instantly agreed, but with the addition of two singular improvements, of which he was extremely proud. One was, to have the town built in the Flemish style, with grated windows, and the gable ends facing the streets, &c. - like those in Ghent and Bruges. The other was, not to have the houses made together, but to have every house independent, to hook on, or off, so as to form the plan of whatever town they pleased. This was begun directly, and many a look of congratulation was exchanged between my uncle Toby and the corporal, as the carpenter did the work. The next summer, the town was a perfect Proteus, constantly changing from Landen - to Trerebach - to Santvliet - to Drusen - and so on. Surely never did any Town act so many parts, since Sodom and Gomorrah. In the fourth year, my uncle Toby, thinking a town looked foolish without a church, added a very fine one with a steeple. Trim wished for bells in it; my uncle said, the metal had better be cast into cannon. This led the way for half a dozen brass artillery field-pieces, to be planted three on each side of my uncle Toby's sentry-box; and these soon led to somewhat larger cannons, till it came at last to my father's jack boots. The next year, when Lisle was besieged, and Ghent and Bruges fell into our hands, my uncle Toby was sadly in need of proper ammunition; I say proper, because his great artillery would not bear gunpowder; which was just as well. For so full were the papers of the incessant firings by the besiegers - and so heated was my uncle Toby's imagination with these accounts, that he would have shot away all his estate. A substitute was therefore needed, to keep up something like a continual firing in the imagination. The corporal, whose strength lay in invention, supplied an entire new system of battering of his own, which was the finishing touch to the whole apparatus. This will be better explained if I set off, as I generally do, at a little distance from the subject.

Tristram Shandy

Book 6 - Chapter 23

Is it not a shame to make two chapters of what passed in going down one pair of stairs? for we are got no farther yet than to the first landing, and there are fifteen more steps down to the bottom; and for aught I know, as my father and my uncle _Toby_ are in a talking humour, there may be as many chapters as steps: ----let that be as it will, Sir, I can no more help it than my destiny: --A sudden impulse comes across me----drop the curtain, _Shandy_ ----I drop it --Strike a line here across the paper, _Tristram_ --I strike it--and hey for a new chapter. The deuce of any other rule have I to govern myself by in this affair--and if I had one--as I do all things out of all rule --I would twist it and tear it to pieces, and throw it into the fire when I had done --Am I warm? I am, and the cause demands it----a pretty story! is a man to follow rules------or rules to follow him? Now this, you must know, being my chapter upon chapters, which I promised to write before I went to sleep, I thought it meet to ease my conscience entirely before I laid down, by telling the world all I knew about the matter at once: Is not this ten times better than to set out dogmatically with a sententious parade of wisdom, and telling the world a story of a roasted horse----that chapters relieve the mind--that they assist--or impose upon the imagination--and that in a work of this dramatic cast they are as necessary as the shifting of scenes----with fifty other cold conceits, enough to extinguish the fire which roasted him? --O! but to understand this, which is a puff at the fire of _Diana's_ temple--you must read _Longinus_--read away--if you are not a jot the wiser by reading him the first time over--never fear--read him again--_Avicenna_ and _Licetus_ read _Aristotle's_ metaphysicks forty times through apiece, and never understood a single word. --But mark the consequence--_Avicenna_ turned out a desperate writer at all kinds of writing--for he wrote books _de omni scribili_; and for _Licetus_ (_Fortunio_) though all the world knows he was born a ftus,[4.6] of no more than five inches and a half in length, yet he grew to that astonishing height in literature, as to write a book with a title as long as himself------the learned know I mean his _Gonopsychanthropologia_, upon the origin of the human soul. So much for my chapter upon chapters, which I hold to be the best chapter in my whole work; and take my word, whoever reads it, is full as well employed, as in picking straws. [Footnote 4.6: _Ce Ftus_ n'toit pas plus grand que la paume de la main; mais son pere l'ayant xamin en qualit de Mdecin, & ayant trouv que c'etoit qulque chose de plus qu'un Embryon, le fit transporter tout vivant Rapallo, ou il le fit voir Jerme Bardi & d'autres Mdecins du lieu. On trouva qu'il ne lui manquoit rien d'essentiel la vie; & son pere pour faire voir un essai de son experience, entreprit d'achever l'ouvrage de la Nature, & de travailler la formation de l'Enfant avec le mme artifice que celui dont on se sert pour faire cclorre les Poulets en Egypte. Il instruisit une Nourisse de tout ce qu'elle avoit faire, & ayant fait mettre son fils dans un pour proprement accommod, il reussit l'lever & lui faire prendre ses accroissemens necessaires, par l'uniformit d'une chaleur trangere mesure xactement sur les dgrs d'un Thermomtre, ou d'un autre instrument quivalent. (Vide Mich. Giustinian, ne gli Scritt. Liguri Cart. 223. 488.) On auroit toujours t trs satisfait de l'industrie d'un pere si experiment dans l'Art de la Generation, quand il n'auroit p prolonger la vie son fils que pour quelques mois, ou pour peu d'annes. Mais quand on se represente que l'Enfant a vecu prs de quatre-vingts ans, & qu'il a compos quatre-vingts Ouvrages differents tous fruits d'une longue lecture--il faut convenir que tout ce qui est incroyable n'est pas toujours faux, & que la _Vraisemblance n'est pas toujours du ct de la Verit_. Il n'avoit que dix neuf ans lorsqu'il composa Gonopsychanthropologia de Origine Anim human. (Les Enfans celebres, revs & corrigs par M. de la Monnoye de l'Academie Franoise.)]

Is it not a shame to make two chapters of what passed in going down one pair of stairs? for we are got no farther yet than the first landing, and there are fifteen more steps down to the bottom; and for aught I know, as my father and my uncle Toby are in a talking mood, there may be as many chapters as steps. - A sudden impulse comes across me - drop the curtain, Shandy - I drop it - and hey for a new chapter. If I had a rule to govern this affair - as I do all things out of rule, I would tear it to pieces, and throw it into the fire. Is a man to follow rules - or are rules to follow him? Now this, you must know, being my chapter upon chapters, which I promised to write before I went to sleep, I thought I should ease my conscience by telling the world all I knew about the matter at once. Is not this ten times better than setting out with a parade of wisdom, and saying that chapters relieve the mind - assist the reader - and that in a work of this dramatic cast they are as necessary as the scene-shifting? O! but to understand this, you must read Longinus - if you are no wiser after that, never fear, read him again - Avicenna and Licetus read Aristotle's metaphysics forty times, and never understood a single word. But mark the consequence - Avicenna turned out a desperate writer; and as for Licetus, though all the world knows he was born a foetus of only five inches and a half in length, yet he grew to such astonishing height in literature as to write a book with a title as long as himself - the learned know I mean his Gonopsychanthropologia, upon the origin of the human soul. So much for my chapter upon chapters, which I hold to be the best chapter in my whole work.

Tristram Shandy

Book 4 - Chapter 10

Now my uncle _Toby_ had one evening laid down his pipe upon the table, and was counting over to himself upon his finger ends (beginning at his thumb) all Mrs. _Wadman's_ perfections one by one; and happening two or three times together, either by omitting some, or counting others twice over, to puzzle himself sadly before he could get beyond his middle finger ----Prithee, _Trim!_ said he, taking up his pipe again, ----bring me a pen and ink: _Trim_ brought paper also. Take a full sheet----_Trim!_ said my uncle _Toby_, making a sign with his pipe at the same time to take a chair and sit down close by him at the table. The corporal obeyed----placed the paper directly before him----took a pen, and dipp'd it in the ink. --She has a thousand virtues, _Trim!_ said my uncle _Toby_---- Am I to set them down, an' please your honour? quoth the corporal. ----But they must be taken in their ranks, replied my uncle _Toby_; for of them all, _Trim_, that which wins me most, and which is a security for all the rest, is the compassionate turn and singular humanity of her character --I protest, added my uncle _Toby_, looking up, as he protested it, towards the top of the ceiling ----That was I her brother, _Trim_, a thousand fold, she could not make more constant or more tender enquiries after my sufferings----though now no more. The corporal made no reply to my uncle _Toby's_ protestation, but by a short cough--he dipp'd the pen a second time into the inkhorn; and my uncle _Toby_, pointing with the end of his pipe as close to the top of the sheet at the left hand corner of it, as he could get it----the corporal wrote down the word HUMANITY - - - - thus. Prithee, corporal, said my uncle _Toby_, as soon as _Trim_ had done it------how often does Mrs. _Bridget_ enquire after the wound on the cap of thy knee, which thou received'st at the battle of _Landen?_ She never, an' please your honour, enquires after it at all. That, corporal, said my uncle _Toby_, with all the triumph the goodness of his nature would permit ----That shews the difference in the character of the mistress and maid----had the fortune of war allotted the same mischance to me, Mrs. _Wadman_ would have enquired into every circumstance relating to it a hundred times ----She would have enquired, an' please your honour, ten times as often about your honour's groin ----The pain, _Trim_, is equally excruciating, ----and Compassion has as much to do with the one as the other---- ----God bless your honour! cried the corporal----what has a woman's compassion to do with a wound upon the cap of a man's knee? had your honour's been shot into ten thousand splinters at the affair of _Landen_, Mrs. _Wadman_ would have troubled her head as little about it as _Bridget_; because, added the corporal, lowering his voice, and speaking very distinctly, as he assigned his reason---- "The knee is such a distance from the main body----whereas the groin, your honour knows, is upon the very _curtain_ of the _place_." My uncle _Toby_ gave a long whistle----but in a note which could scarce be heard across the table. The corporal had advanced too far to retire----in three words he told the rest---- My uncle _Toby_ laid down his pipe as gently upon the fender, as if it had been spun from the unravellings of a spider's web---- ------Let us go to my brother _Shandy's_, said he.

Now my uncle Toby had one evening laid down his pipe upon the table, and was counting over to himself upon his fingers all Mrs. Wadman's perfections one by one; and either by omitting some, or counting others twice over, was puzzling himself sadly before he could get beyond his middle finger, 'Prithee, Trim!' said he, taking up his pipe again, 'bring me a pen and ink.' Trim brought paper also. 'Take a full sheet, Trim!' said my uncle Toby, making a sign with his pipe to sit down at the table. The corporal obeyed - placed the paper before him - dipped pen in ink. 'She has a thousand virtues, Trim!' said my uncle Toby. 'Am I to set them down, your honour?' quoth the corporal. 'But they must be taken in their ranks,' replied my uncle Toby; 'for of them all, Trim, that which wins me most is the compassionate turn and singular humanity of her character - I protest,' added my uncle Toby, looking up, 'that were I her brother, Trim, she could not make more constant or more tender enquiries after my sufferings.' The corporal made no reply to this, but a cough. He dipped the pen a second time; and when my uncle Toby pointed with the end of his pipe to the top of the sheet, the corporal wrote down the word Humanity - - - thus. 'Prithee, corporal,' said my uncle, 'how often does Mrs. Bridget enquire after the wound on thy kneecap, which thou received'st at the battle of Landen?' 'She never enquires after it at all.' 'That, corporal,' said my uncle Toby, with all the triumph his goodness would permit, - 'That shows the difference in the character of the mistress and the maid. If I had the same wound, Mrs. Wadman would have enquired into every circumstance relating to it a hundred times.' 'She would have enquired, your honour, ten times as often about your honour's groin.' 'The pain, Trim, is equally excruciating, and Compassion cares as much about the one as the other-' 'God bless your honour!' cried the corporal. 'What has a woman's compassion to do with a wound upon a man's kneecap? had your honour's knee been shot into ten thousand splinters, Mrs. Wadman would have troubled her head as little about it as Bridget; because,' added the corporal, lowering his voice, and speaking very distinctly, as he gave his reason- 'The knee is a distance from the main body - whereas the groin, your honour knows, is upon the very curtin of the place.' My uncle Toby gave a long, low whistle. The corporal had advanced too far to retire - he told the rest. My uncle Toby laid down his pipe as gently upon the fender as if it were a spider's web. - 'Let us go to my brother Shandy's,' said he.

Tristram Shandy

Book 9 - Chapter 31

Of the few legitimate sons of _Adam_ whose breasts never felt what the sting of love was, --(maintaining first, all mysogynists to be bastards)--the greatest heroes of ancient and modern story have carried off amongst them nine parts in ten of the honour; and I wish for their sakes I had the key of my study, out of my draw-well, only for five minutes, to tell you their names--recollect them I cannot--so be content to accept of these, for the present, in their stead.------ There was the great king _Aldrovandus_, and _Bosphorus_, and _Cappadocius_, and _Dardanus_, and _Pontus_, and _Asius_, ----to say nothing of the iron-hearted _Charles_ the XIIth, whom the Countess of K***** herself could make nothing of. ----There was _Babylonicus_, and _Mediterraneus_, and _Polixenes_, and _Persicus_, and _Prusicus_, not one of whom (except _Cappadocius_ and _Pontus_, who were both a little suspected) ever once bowed down his breast to the goddess ----The truth is, they had all of them something else to do--and so had my uncle _Toby_--till Fate--till Fate I say, envying his name the glory of being handed down to posterity with _Aldrovandus's_ and the rest, --she basely patched up the peace of _Utrecht_. ----Believe me, Sirs, 'twas the worst deed she did that year.

Of the few men whose breasts never felt the sting of love, the great heroes of ancient and modern stories have carried off nine parts in ten of the honour; and I wish I had the key of my study for five minutes, to tell you their names - recollect them I cannot - so accept these, for the present, in their stead. There was the great king Aldrovandus, and Bosphorus, and Cappadocius, and Dardanus, and Pontus, and Asius, to say nothing of the iron-hearted Charles the XIIth, whom the Countess of K***** herself could make nothing of. There was Babylonicus, Mediterraneus, Persicus, and Prusicus, not one of whom ever bowed down to the goddess Love - the truth is, they had all something else to do. - And so had my uncle Toby - till Fate - till Fate, I say, envying his name the glory of being handed down to posterity with Aldrovandus's and the rest, basely patched up the peace of Utrecht. - Believe me, Sirs, 'twas the worst deed she did that year.

Tristram Shandy

Book 6 - Chapter 30

Great wits jump: for the moment Dr. _Slop_ cast his eyes upon his bag (which he had not done till the dispute with my uncle _Toby_ about midwifery put him in mind of it)--the very same thought occurred. --'Tis God's mercy, quoth he (to himself) that Mrs. _Shandy_ has had so bad a time of it, ----else she might have been brought to bed seven times told, before one half of these knots could have got untied. ----But here you must distinguish--the thought floated only in Dr. _Slop's_ mind, without sail or ballast to it, as a simple proposition; millions of which, as your worship knows, are every day swimming quietly in the middle of the thin juice of a man's understanding, without being carried backwards or forwards, till some little gusts of passion or interest drive them to one side. A sudden trampling in the room above, near my mother's bed, did the proposition the very service I am speaking of. By all that's unfortunate, quoth Dr. _Slop_, unless I make haste, the thing will actually befall me as it is.

The moment Dr. Slop cast his eyes upon his bag, the very same thought occurred to him. ''Tis God's mercy,' quoth he (to himself) 'that Mrs. Shandy has had so bad a time of it, - or else she might have given birth seven times, before these knots could be untied.' - But here you must distinguish - the thought floated only in Dr. Slop's mind, without sail or ballast, as a simple proposition; millions of which, as your worship knows, are every day swimming quietly in a man's understanding, without being carried backwards or forwards, till some little gusts of passion or interest drive them on. A sudden trampling in the room above did this very action. 'By all that's unfortunate,' quoth Dr. Slop, 'unless I make haste, the thing will actually happen.'

Tristram Shandy

Book 3 - Chapter 9

Now there are such an infinitude of notes, tunes, cants, chants, airs, looks, and accents with which the word _fiddlestick_ may be pronounced in all such causes as this, every one of 'em impressing a sense and meaning as different from the other, as _dirt_ from _cleanliness_ --That Casuists (for it is an affair of conscience on that score) reckon up no less than fourteen thousand in which you may do either right or wrong. Mrs. _Wadman_ hit upon the _fiddlestick_, which summoned up all my uncle _Toby's_ modest blood into his cheeks--so feeling within himself that he had somehow or other got beyond his depth, he stopt short; and without entering further either into the pains or pleasures of matrimony, he laid his hand upon his heart, and made an offer to take them as they were, and share them along with her. When my uncle _Toby_ had said this, he did not care to say it again; so casting his eye upon the Bible which Mrs. _Wadman_ had laid upon the table, he took it up; and popping, dear soul! upon a passage in it, of all others the most interesting to him--which was the siege of _Jericho_--he set himself to read it over--leaving his proposal of marriage, as he had done his declaration of love, to work with her after its own way. Now it wrought neither as an astringent or a loosener; nor like opium, or bark, or mercury, or buckthorn, or any one drug which nature had bestowed upon the world--in short, it work'd not at all in her; and the cause of that was, that there was something working there before ----Babbler that I am! I have anticipated what it was a dozen times; but there is fire still in the subject----allons.

Now there are so many notes, tunes, chants, airs, looks, and accents with which the word fiddlestick may be pronounced, every one of 'em having a meaning as different from the other, as dirt from cleanliness - that Casuists reckon up no less than fourteen thousand. Mrs. Wadman hit upon the fiddlestick which summoned all my uncle Toby's modest blood into his cheeks. Feeling that he had somehow or other got beyond his depth, he stopped short; and without entering further either into the pains or pleasures of matrimony, he laid his hand upon his heart, and made an offer to take them as they were, and share them with her. When my uncle Toby had said this, he did not care to say it again; so casting his eye upon the Bible which Mrs. Wadman had laid upon the table, he took it up; and popping, dear soul! upon a passage in it which was most interesting to him - the siege of Jericho - he began to read it - leaving his proposal of marriage, like his declaration of love, to work with her after its own way. But it worked not at all in her; because there was something working there before - Babbler that I am! I have anticipated what it was a dozen times; but there is fire still in the subject. - Allons.

Tristram Shandy

Book 9 - Chapter 19

All sins whatever, quoth the abbess, turning casuist in the distress they were under, are held by the confessor of our convent to be either mortal or venial: there is no further division. Now a venial sin being the slightest and least of all sins--being halved--by taking either only the half of it, and leaving the rest--or, by taking it all, and amicably halving it betwixt yourself and another person--in course becomes diluted into no sin at all. Now I see no sin in saying, _bou_, _bou_, _bou_, _bou_, _bou_, a hundred times together; nor is there any turpitude in pronouncing the syllable _ger_, _ger_, _ger_, _ger_, _ger_, were it from our matins to our vespers: Therefore, my dear daughter, continued the abbess of _Andoillets_ --I will say _bou_, and thou shalt say _ger_; and then alternately, as there is no more sin in _fou_ than in _bou_ --Thou shalt say _fou_--and I will come in (like fa, sol, la, re, mi, ut, at our complines) with _ter_. And accordingly the abbess, giving the pitch note, set off thus: Abbess, } Bou - - bou - - bou - - _Margarita_, } ----ger, - - ger, - - ger. _Margarita_, } Fou - - fou - - fou - - Abbess, } ----ter, - - ter, - - ter. The two mules acknowledged the notes by a mutual lash of their tails; but it went no further----'Twill answer by an' by, said the novice. Abbess } Bou- bou- bou- bou- bou- bou- _Margarita_, } --ger, ger, ger, ger, ger, ger. Quicker still, cried _Margarita_. Fou, fou, fou, fou, fou, fou, fou, fou, fou. Quicker still, cried _Margarita_. Bou, bou, bou, bou, bou, bou, bou, bou, bou, Quicker still --God preserve me; said the abbess --They do not understand us, cried _Margarita_ --But the Devil does, said the abbess of _Andoillets_.

'All sins,' quoth the abbess, 'are either mortal or venial: there is no further division. Now a venial sin being the least of all sins - being halved, it becomes diluted into no sin at all. 'Now I see no sin in saying, bou, bou, bou, bou, bou, a hundred times together; nor is there any wickedness in pronouncing the syllable ger, ger, ger, ger, ger, all day long. Therefore, my dear daughter,' continued the abbess, 'I will say bou, and thou shalt say ger; and then alternately, as there is no more sin in fou than in bou, thou shalt say fou and I will come in, just as in our complines, with ker.' And accordingly the abbess set off thus: Abbess: Bou- bou- bou- Margarita: -ger -ger -ger. And then Margarita: Fou- fou- fou- Abbess: -ker -ker -ker. The two mules acknowledged the words with a lash of their tails; but no more. ''Twill work by and by,' said the novice. Abbess: Bou- bou- bou- bou- bou- Margarita: -ger -ger -ger -ger -ger. 'Quicker still,' cried Margarita. Fou, fou, fou, fou, fou, fou, fou, fou, fou. 'Quicker still,' cried Margarita. Bou, bou, bou, bou, bou, bou, bou, bou, bou. 'Quicker still-' 'God preserve me!' said the abbess. 'They do not understand us,' cried Margarita. 'But the Devil does,' said the abbess of Andoillets.

Tristram Shandy

Book 7 - Chapter 25

Dr. _Slop_ was within an ace of being an exception to all this argumentation: for happening to have his green bays bag upon his knees, when he began to parody my uncle _Toby_--'twas as good as the best mantle in the world to him: for which purpose, when he foresaw the sentence would end in his new-invented _forceps_, he thrust his hand into the bag in order to have them ready to clap in, when your reverences took so much notice of the ***, which had he managed----my uncle _Toby_ had certainly been overthrown: the sentence and the argument in that case jumping closely in one point, so like the two lines which form the salient angle of a ravelin, ----Dr. _Slop_ would never have given them up; --and my uncle _Toby_ would as soon have thought of flying, as taking them by force: but Dr. _Slop_ fumbled so vilely in pulling them out, it took off the whole effect, and what was a ten times worse evil (for they seldom come alone in this life) in pulling out his _forceps_, his _forceps_ unfortunately drew out the _squirt_ along with it. When a proposition can be taken in two senses--'tis a law in disputation, That the respondent may reply to which of the two he pleases, or finds most convenient for him. ----This threw the advantage of the argument quite on my uncle _Toby's_ side. ----"Good God!" cried my uncle _Toby_, "_are children brought into the world with a squirt?_"

Dr. Slop happening to have his green baize bag upon his knees, 'twas as good as a mantle to him: so that when he foresaw his sentence would end in his new-invented forceps, he thrust his hand into the bag in order to have them ready to flourish at the ****** which you noticed. However, he fumbled so vilely in pulling them out that it ruined the effect, and what was ten times worse, in pulling out his forceps, he unfortunately drew out the squirt along with it. When a proposition can be taken in two ways, the respondent may reply to whichever he finds most convenient. - This threw the advantage of the argument quite on my uncle Toby's side. 'Good God!' he cried, 'are children brought into the world with a squirt?'

Tristram Shandy

Book 3 - Chapter 15

Writing, when properly managed (as you may be sure I think mine is) is but a different name for conversation. As no one, who knows what he is about in good company, would venture to talk all; ----so no author, who understands the just boundaries of decorum and good-breeding, would presume to think all: The truest respect which you can pay to the reader's understanding, is to halve this matter amicably, and leave him something to imagine, in his turn, as well as yourself. For my own part, I am eternally paying him compliments of this kind, and do all that lies in my power to keep his imagination as busy as my own. 'Tis his turn now; --I have given an ample description of Dr. _Slop's_ sad overthrow, and of his sad appearance in the back-parlour; --his imagination must now go on with it for a while. Let the reader imagine then, that Dr. _Slop_ has told his tale--and in what words, and with what aggravations, his fancy chooses; --Let him suppose, that _Obadiah_ has told his tale also, and with such rueful looks of affected concern, as he thinks best will contrast the two figures as they stand by each other. ----Let him imagine, that my father has stepped upstairs to see my mother. --And, to conclude this work of imagination--let him imagine the doctor washed, --rubbed down, and condoled, --felicitated, --got into a pair of _Obadiah's_ pumps, stepping forwards towards the door, upon the very point of entering upon action. Truce! --truce, good Dr. _Slop_: --stay thy obstetrick hand; ----return it safe into thy bosom to keep it warm; ----little dost thou know what obstacles, ------little dost thou think what hidden causes, retard its operation! ----Hast thou, Dr. _Slop_, --hast thou been intrusted with the secret articles of the solemn treaty which has brought thee into this place? --Art thou aware that at this instant, a daughter of _Lucina_ is put obstetrically over thy head? Alas! --'tis too true. --Besides, great son of _Pilumnus!_ what canst thou do? --Thou hast come forth unarm'd; --thou hast left thy _tire-tte_, --thy new-invented _forceps_, --thy _crotchet_, --thy _squirt_, and all thy instruments of salvation and deliverance, behind thee, --By Heaven! at this moment they are hanging up in a green bays bag, betwixt thy two pistols, at the bed's head! --Ring; --call; --send _Obadiah_ back upon the coach-horse to bring them with all speed. ----Make great haste, _Obadiah_, quoth my father, and I'll give thee a crown! --and quoth my uncle _Toby_, I'll give him another.

Writing, when properly managed (as you may be sure I think mine is) is but a different name for conversation. As no one in good company would venture to do all the talking; - so no author with good manners would presume to do all the thinking. The truest respect which you can pay to the reader's understanding, is to leave him something to imagine. For my own part, I am eternally paying him compliments of this kind, and do all that lies in my power to keep his imagination busy. Thus, I have given an ample description of Dr. Slop's sad overthrow, and his appearance in the back-parlour; his imagination must now go on with it for a while. Let the reader imagine then, that Dr. Slop has told his tale - and in what words his fancy chooses. Let him suppose that Obadiah has told his tale also, with rueful looks of concern. - Let him imagine that my father has stepped upstairs to see my mother. And, to conclude, - let him imagine the doctor washed, rubbed down, condoled, and got into a pair of Obadiah's pumps, stepping towards the door, on the very point of entering the action. Truce! - truce, good Dr. Slop: - stay thy obstetric hand! Hast thou, Dr. Slop, been told of the secret and solemn treaty which has brought thee here? Art thou aware that at this instant, a mere midwife is put over thy head? Alas! 'tis too true. What canst thou do? Thou hast come unarmed; thou hast left thy new-invented forceps, and all thy instruments of deliverance, behind thee. By Heaven! at this moment they are hanging up in a green baize bag, at thy house! - Ring - call - send Obadiah back upon the coach-horse to bring them with all speed. 'Make haste, Obadiah,' quoth my father, 'and I'll give thee a crown!' Quoth my uncle Toby - 'I'll give him another.'

Tristram Shandy

Book 2 - Chapter 11

Now hang it! quoth I, as I look'd towards the _French_ coast--a man should know something of his own country too, before he goes abroad----and I never gave a peep into _Rochester_ church, or took notice of the dock of _Chatham_, or visited St. _Thomas_ at _Canterbury_, though they all three laid in my way---- --But mine, indeed, is a particular case---- So without arguing the matter further with _Thomas o' Becket_, or any one else --I skip'd into the boat, and in five minutes we got under sail, and scudded away like the wind. Pray, captain, quoth I, as I was going down into the cabin, is a man never overtaken by _Death_ in this passage? Why, there is not time for a man to be sick in it, replied he ----What a cursed lyar! for I am sick as a horse, quoth I, already----what a brain! ----upside down! ----hey-day! the cells are broke loose one into another, and the blood, and the lymph, and the nervous juices, with the fix'd and volatile salts, are all jumbled into one mass----good G--! everything turns round in it like a thousand whirlpools ----I'd give a shilling to know if I shan't write the clearer for it---- Sick! sick! sick! sick!---- --When shall we get to land? captain--they have hearts like stones ----O I am deadly sick! ----reach me that thing, boy----'tis the most discomfiting sickness ----I wish I was at the bottom --Madam! how is it with you? Undone! undone! un ----O! undone! sir ----What the first time? ----No, 'tis the second, third, sixth, tenth time, sir, ----hey-day! --what a trampling over head! --hollo! cabin boy! what's the matter?-- The wind chopp'd about! s'Death! --then I shall meet him full in the face. What luck! --'tis chopp'd about again, master ----O the devil chop it---- Captain, quoth she, for heaven's sake, let us get ashore.

'Now hang it!' quoth I, as I looked towards the French coast - 'a man should know something of his own country before he goes abroad - and I never gave a peep into Rochester church, or Chatham Dock, or visited St. Thomas at Canterbury, though they all lay in my way.' - But mine, indeed, is a particular case - So without arguing further, I skipped into the boat, and in five minutes we got under sail, and scudded away like the wind. 'Pray, captain,' quoth I, as I was going down into the cabin, 'is a man never overtaken by Death in this crossing?' 'Why, there is not time for a man to be sick,' replied he. 'What a cursed liar! for I am sick as a horse already,' quoth I. 'What a brain! - upside down! hey-day! the cells are broke loose one into another, and the blood, and lymph, and nervous juices are all jumbled into one mass - everything turns round in it like a thousand whirlpools- 'Sick! sick! sick! sick! 'When shall we get to land, captain? - they have hearts like stones - O I am deadly sick! reach me that thing, boy - I wish I was at the bottom - Madam! how is it with you? Undone! undone! - What, the first time? - No, 'tis the second, third, sixth, tenth time, sir - hey-day! what a trampling over head! Hallo! cabin boy! what's the matter?' The wind chopped about! s'Death! - then I shall meet him full in the face. What luck! ''Tis chopped about again, master.' 'O the devil chop it-' 'Captain,' quoth she, 'for heaven's sake, let us get ashore.'

Tristram Shandy

Book 7 - Chapter 2