“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 fossé 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, — sha
ll 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 à 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, à posteriori, the day after, when Yorick sent a servant to my uncle Toby’s house to enquire after it.
Complete Works of Laurence Sterne Page 19