— But ’tis an excellent cap too (putting it upon my head, and pressing it close to my ears) — and warm — and soft; especially if you stroke it the right way — but alas! that will never be my luck — (so here my philosophy is shipwreck’d again).
— No; I shall never have a finger in the pye (so here I break my metaphor) —
Crust and Crumb
Inside and out
Top and bottom — I detest it, I hate it, I repudiate it — I’m sick at the sight of it —
’Tis all pepper,
garlick,
staragen,
salt, and
devil’s dung — by the great arch-cook of cooks, who does
nothing, I think, from morning to night, but sit down by the fire-side
and invent inflammatory dishes for us, I would not touch it for the
world —
— O Tristram! Tristram! cried Jenny.
O Jenny! Jenny! replied I, and so went on with the twelfth chapter.
CHAPTER XII
— “Not touch it for the world,” did I say —
Lord, how I have heated my imagination with this metaphor!
CHAPTER XIII
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.
CHAPTER XIV
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.
CHAPTER XV
It is a great pity — but ’tis certain from every day’s observation of man, that he may be set on fire like a candle, at either end — provided there is a sufficient wick standing out; if there is not — there’s an end of the affair; and if there is — by lighting it at the bottom, as the flame in that case has the misfortune generally to put out itself — there’s an end of the affair again.
For my part, could I always have the ordering of it which way I would be burnt myself — for I cannot bear the thoughts of being burnt like a beast — I would oblige a housewife constantly to light me at the top; for then I should burn down decently to the socket; that is, from my head to my heart, from my heart to my liver, from my liver to my bowels, and so on by the meseraick veins and arteries, through all the turns and lateral insertions of the intestines and their tunicles to the blind gut —
— I beseech you, doctor Slop, quoth my uncle Toby, interrupting him as he mentioned the blind gut, in a discourse with my father the night my mother was brought to bed of me — I beseech you, quoth my uncle Toby, to tell me which is the blind gut; for, old as I am, I vow I do not know to this day where it lies.
The blind gut, answered doctor Slop, lies betwixt the Ilion and Colon —
In a man? said my father.
— ’Tis precisely the same, cried doctor Slop, in a woman. —
That’s more than I know; quoth my father.
CHAPTER XVI
— And so to make sure of both systems, Mrs. Wadman predetermined to light my uncle Toby neither at this end or that; but, like a prodigal’s candle, to light him, if possible, at both ends at once.
Now, through all the lumber rooms of military furniture, including both of horse and foot, from the great arsenal of Venice to the Tower of London (exclusive), if Mrs. Wadman had been rummaging for seven years together, and with Bridget to help her, she could not have found any one blind or mantelet so fit for her purpose, as that which the expediency of my uncle Toby’s affairs had fix’d up ready to her hands.
I believe I have not told you — but I don’t know — possibly I have — be it as it will, ’tis one of the number of those many things, which a man had better do over again, than dispute about it — That whatever town or fortress the corporal was at work upon, during the course of their campaign, my uncle Toby always took care, on the inside of his sentry-box, which was towards his left hand, to have a plan of the place, fasten’d up with two or three pins at the top, but loose at the bottom, for the conveniency of holding it up to the eye, &c. . . . as occasions required; so that when an attack was resolved upon, Mrs. Wadman had nothing more to do, when she had got advanced to the door of the sentry-box, but to extend her right hand; and edging in her left foot at the same movement, to take hold of the map or plan, or upright, or whatever it was, and with out-stretched neck meeting it half way, — to advance it towards her; on which my uncle Toby’s passions were sure to catch fire — for he would instantly take hold of the other corner of the map in his left hand, and with the end of his pipe in the other, begin an explanation.
When the attack was advanced to this point; — the world will naturally enter into the reasons of Mrs. Wadman’s next stroke of generalship — which was, to take my uncle Toby’s tobacco-pipe out of his hand as soon as she possibly could; which, under one pretence or other, but generally that of pointing more distinctly at some redoubt or breastwork in the map, she would effect before my uncle Toby (poor soul!) had well march’d above half a dozen toises with it.
— It obliged my uncle Toby to make use of his forefinger.
The difference it made in the attack was this; That in going upon it, as in the first case, with the end of her forefinger against the end of my uncle Toby’s tobacco-pipe, she might have travelled with it, along the lines, from Dan to Beersheba, had my uncle Toby’s lines reach’d so far, without any effect: For as there was no arterial or vital heat in the end of the tobacco-pipe, it could excite no sentiment — it could neither give fire by pulsation — or receive it by sympathy— ’twas nothing but smoke.
Whereas, in following my uncle Toby’s forefinger with hers, close thro’ all the little turns and indentings of his works — pressing sometimes
against the side of it — then treading upon its nail — then tripping it up — then touching it here — then there, and so on — it set something at least in motion.
This, tho’ slight skirmishing, and at a distance from the main body, yet drew on the rest; for here, the map usually falling with the back of it, close to the side of the sentry-box, my uncle Toby, in the simplicity of his soul, would lay his hand flat upon it, in order to go on with his explanation; and Mrs. Wadman, by a manœuvre as quick as thought, would as certainly place her’s close beside it; this at once opened a communication, large enough for any sentiment to pass or repass, which a person skill’d in the elementary and practical part of love-making, has occasion for —
By bringing up her forefinger parallel (as before) to my uncle Toby’s — it unavoidably brought the thumb into action — and the forefinger and thumb being once engaged, as naturally brought in the whole hand. Thine, dear uncle Toby! was never now in its right place — Mrs. Wadman had it ever to take up, or, with the gentlest pushings, protrusions, and equivocal compressions, that a hand to be removed is capable of receiving — to get it press’d a hair breadth of one side out of her way.
Whilst this was doing, how could she forget to make him sensible, that it was her leg (and no one’s else) at the bottom of the sentry-box, which slightly press’d against the calf of his — So that my uncle Toby being thus attacked and sore push’d on both his wings — was it a wonder, if now and then, it put his centre into disorder? —
— The duce take it! said my uncle Toby.
CHAPTER XVII
These attacks of Mrs. Wadman, you will readily conceive to be of different kinds; varying from each other, like the attacks which history is full of, and from the same reasons. A general looker-on would scarce allow them to be attacks at all — or if he did, would confound them all together — but I write not to them: it will be time enough to be a little more exact in my descriptions of them, as I come up to them, which will not be for some chapters; having nothing more to add in this, but that in a bundle of original papers and drawings which my father took care to roll up by themselves, there is a plan of Bouchain in perfect preservation (and shall be kept so, whilst I have power to preserve anything), upon the lower corner of which, on the right hand side, there is still remaining the marks of a snuffy finger and thumb, which there is all the reason in the world to imagine, were Mrs. Wadman’s; for the opposite side of the margin, which I suppose to have been my uncle Toby’s, is absolutely clean: This seems an authenticated record of one of these attacks; for there are vestigia of the two punctures partly grown up, but still visible on the opposite corner of the map, which are unquestionably the very holes, through which it has been pricked up in the sentry-box —
By all that is priestly! I value this precious relick, with its stigmata and pricks, more than all the relicks of the Romish church — always excepting, when I am writing upon these matters, the pricks which entered the flesh of St. Radagunda in the desert, which in your road from FESSE to CLUNY, the nuns of that name will shew you for love.
CHAPTER XVIII
I think, an’ please your honour, quoth Trim, the fortifications are quite destroyed — and the bason is upon a level with the mole — I think so too; replied my uncle Toby with a sigh half suppress’d — but step into the parlour, Trim, for the stipulation — it lies upon the table.
It has lain there these six weeks, replied the corporal, till this very morning that the old woman kindled the fire with it —
— Then, said my uncle Toby, there is no further occasion for our services. The more, an’ please your honour, the pity, said the corporal; in uttering which he cast his spade into the wheel-barrow, which was beside him, with an air the most expressive of disconsolation that can be imagined, and was heavily turning about to look for his pickax, his pioneer’s shovel, his picquets, and other little military stores, in order to carry them off the field — when a heigh-ho! from the sentry-box, which being made of thin slit deal, reverberated the sound more sorrowfully to his ear, forbad him.
— No; said the corporal to himself, I’ll do it before his honour rises to-morrow morning; so taking his spade out of the wheel-barrow again, with a little earth in it, as if to level something at the foot of the glacis — but with a real intent to approach nearer to his master, in order to divert him — he loosen’d a sod or two — pared their edges with his spade, and having given them a gentle blow or two with the back of it, he sat himself down close by my uncle Toby’s feet, and began as follows.
CHAPTER XIX
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 Ægina 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.
Complete Works of Laurence Sterne Page 55