The Life and Opinions of Tristram Shandy, Gentleman
Laurence Sterne

Part 2 out of 10


All the dexterity is in the good cookery and management of them, so as to
be not only for the advantage of the reader, but also of the author, whose
distress, in this matter, is truly pitiable: For, if he begins a
digression,--from that moment, I observe, his whole work stands stock
still;--and if he goes on with his main work,--then there is an end of his

--This is vile work.--For which reason, from the beginning of this, you
see, I have constructed the main work and the adventitious parts of it with
such intersections, and have so complicated and involved the digressive and
progressive movements, one wheel within another, that the whole machine, in
general, has been kept a-going;--and, what's more, it shall be kept a-going
these forty years, if it pleases the fountain of health to bless me so long
with life and good spirits.

Chapter 1.XXIII.

I have a strong propensity in me to begin this chapter very nonsensically,
and I will not balk my fancy.--Accordingly I set off thus:

If the fixture of Momus's glass in the human breast, according to the
proposed emendation of that arch-critick, had taken place,--first, This
foolish consequence would certainly have followed,--That the very wisest
and very gravest of us all, in one coin or other, must have paid window-
money every day of our lives.

And, secondly, that had the said glass been there set up, nothing more
would have been wanting, in order to have taken a man's character, but to
have taken a chair and gone softly, as you would to a dioptrical bee-hive,
and look'd in,--view'd the soul stark naked;--observed all her motions,--
her machinations;--traced all her maggots from their first engendering to
their crawling forth;--watched her loose in her frisks, her gambols, her
capricios; and after some notice of her more solemn deportment, consequent
upon such frisks, &c.--then taken your pen and ink and set down nothing but
what you had seen, and could have sworn to:--But this is an advantage not
to be had by the biographer in this planet;--in the planet Mercury (belike)
it may be so, if not better still for him;--for there the intense heat of
the country, which is proved by computators, from its vicinity to the sun,
to be more than equal to that of red-hot iron,--must, I think, long ago
have vitrified the bodies of the inhabitants, (as the efficient cause) to
suit them for the climate (which is the final cause;) so that betwixt them
both, all the tenements of their souls, from top to bottom, may be nothing
else, for aught the soundest philosophy can shew to the contrary, but one
fine transparent body of clear glass (bating the umbilical knot)--so that,
till the inhabitants grow old and tolerably wrinkled, whereby the rays of
light, in passing through them, become so monstrously refracted,--or return
reflected from their surfaces in such transverse lines to the eye, that a
man cannot be seen through;--his soul might as well, unless for mere
ceremony, or the trifling advantage which the umbilical point gave her,--
might, upon all other accounts, I say, as well play the fool out o'doors as
in her own house.

But this, as I said above, is not the case of the inhabitants of this
earth;--our minds shine not through the body, but are wrapt up here in a
dark covering of uncrystalized flesh and blood; so that, if we would come
to the specific characters of them, we must go some other way to work.

Many, in good truth, are the ways, which human wit has been forced to take,
to do this thing with exactness.

Some, for instance, draw all their characters with wind-instruments.--
Virgil takes notice of that way in the affair of Dido and Aeneas;--but it
is as fallacious as the breath of fame;--and, moreover, bespeaks a narrow
genius. I am not ignorant that the Italians pretend to a mathematical
exactness in their designations of one particular sort of character among
them, from the forte or piano of a certain wind-instrument they use,--which
they say is infallible.--I dare not mention the name of the instrument in
this place;--'tis sufficient we have it amongst us,--but never think of
making a drawing by it;--this is aenigmatical, and intended to be so, at
least ad populum:--And therefore, I beg, Madam, when you come here, that
you read on as fast as you can, and never stop to make any inquiry about

There are others again, who will draw a man's character from no other helps
in the world, but merely from his evacuations;--but this often gives a very
incorrect outline,--unless, indeed, you take a sketch of his repletions
too; and by correcting one drawing from the other, compound one good figure
out of them both.

I should have no objection to this method, but that I think it must smell
too strong of the lamp,--and be render'd still more operose, by forcing you
to have an eye to the rest of his Non-naturals.--Why the most natural
actions of a man's life should be called his Non-naturals,--is another

There are others, fourthly, who disdain every one of these expedients;--not
from any fertility of their own, but from the various ways of doing it,
which they have borrowed from the honourable devices which the Pentagraphic
Brethren (Pentagraph, an instrument to copy Prints and Pictures
mechanically, and in any proportion.) of the brush have shewn in taking
copies.--These, you must know, are your great historians.

One of these you will see drawing a full length character against the
light;--that's illiberal,--dishonest,--and hard upon the character of the
man who sits.

Others, to mend the matter, will make a drawing of you in the Camera;--that
is most unfair of all, because, there you are sure to be represented in
some of your most ridiculous attitudes.

To avoid all and every one of these errors in giving you my uncle Toby's
character, I am determined to draw it by no mechanical help whatever;--nor
shall my pencil be guided by any one wind-instrument which ever was blown
upon, either on this, or on the other side of the Alps;--nor will I
consider either his repletions or his discharges,--or touch upon his Non-
naturals; but, in a word, I will draw my uncle Toby's character from his

Chapter 1.XXIV.

If I was not morally sure that the reader must be out of all patience for
my uncle Toby's character,--I would here previously have convinced him that
there is no instrument so fit to draw such a thing with, as that which I
have pitch'd upon.

A man and his Hobby-Horse, tho' I cannot say that they act and re-act
exactly after the same manner in which the soul and body do upon each
other: Yet doubtless there is a communication between them of some kind;
and my opinion rather is, that there is something in it more of the manner
of electrified bodies,--and that, by means of the heated parts of the
rider, which come immediately into contact with the back of the Hobby-
Horse,--by long journies and much friction, it so happens, that the body of
the rider is at length fill'd as full of Hobby-Horsical matter as it can
hold;--so that if you are able to give but a clear description of the
nature of the one, you may form a pretty exact notion of the genius and
character of the other.

Now the Hobby-Horse which my uncle Toby always rode upon, was in my opinion
an Hobby-Horse well worth giving a description of, if it was only upon the
score of his great singularity;--for you might have travelled from York to
Dover,--from Dover to Penzance in Cornwall, and from Penzance to York back
again, and not have seen such another upon the road; or if you had seen
such a one, whatever haste you had been in, you must infallibly have
stopp'd to have taken a view of him. Indeed, the gait and figure of him
was so strange, and so utterly unlike was he, from his head to his tail, to
any one of the whole species, that it was now and then made a matter of
dispute,--whether he was really a Hobby-Horse or no: But as the
Philosopher would use no other argument to the Sceptic, who disputed with
him against the reality of motion, save that of rising up upon his legs,
and walking across the room;--so would my uncle Toby use no other argument
to prove his Hobby-Horse was a Hobby-Horse indeed, but by getting upon his
back and riding him about;--leaving the world, after that, to determine the
point as it thought fit.

In good truth, my uncle Toby mounted him with so much pleasure, and he
carried my uncle Toby so well,--that he troubled his head very little with
what the world either said or thought about it.

It is now high time, however, that I give you a description of him:--But to
go on regularly, I only beg you will give me leave to acquaint you first,
how my uncle Toby came by him.

Chapter 1.XXV.

The wound in my uncle Toby's groin, which he received at the siege of
Namur, rendering him unfit for the service, it was thought expedient he
should return to England, in order, if possible, to be set to rights.

He was four years totally confined,--part of it to his bed, and all of it
to his room: and in the course of his cure, which was all that time in
hand, suffer'd unspeakable miseries,--owing to a succession of exfoliations
from the os pubis, and the outward edge of that part of the coxendix called
the os illium,--both which bones were dismally crush'd, as much by the
irregularity of the stone, which I told you was broke off the parapet,--as
by its size,--(tho' it was pretty large) which inclined the surgeon all
along to think, that the great injury which it had done my uncle Toby's
groin, was more owing to the gravity of the stone itself, than to the
projectile force of it,--which he would often tell him was a great

My father at that time was just beginning business in London, and had taken
a house;--and as the truest friendship and cordiality subsisted between the
two brothers,--and that my father thought my uncle Toby could no where be
so well nursed and taken care of as in his own house,--he assign'd him the
very best apartment in it.--And what was a much more sincere mark of his
affection still, he would never suffer a friend or an acquaintance to step
into the house on any occasion, but he would take him by the hand, and lead
him up stairs to see his brother Toby, and chat an hour by his bed-side.

The history of a soldier's wound beguiles the pain of it;--my uncle's
visitors at least thought so, and in their daily calls upon him, from the
courtesy arising out of that belief, they would frequently turn the
discourse to that subject,--and from that subject the discourse would
generally roll on to the siege itself.

These conversations were infinitely kind; and my uncle Toby received great
relief from them, and would have received much more, but that they brought
him into some unforeseen perplexities, which, for three months together,
retarded his cure greatly; and if he had not hit upon an expedient to
extricate himself out of them, I verily believe they would have laid him in
his grave.

What these perplexities of my uncle Toby were,--'tis impossible for you to
guess;--if you could,--I should blush; not as a relation,--not as a man,--
nor even as a woman,--but I should blush as an author; inasmuch as I set no
small store by myself upon this very account, that my reader has never yet
been able to guess at any thing. And in this, Sir, I am of so nice and
singular a humour, that if I thought you was able to form the least
judgment or probable conjecture to yourself, of what was to come in the
next page,--I would tear it out of my book.

Chapter 1.XXVI.

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
counterscarp,--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 up stairs 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,--and 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

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.

Chapter 1.XXVII.

There is nothing so foolish, when you are at the expence of making an
entertainment of this kind, as to order things so badly, as to let your
criticks and gentry of refined taste run it down: Nor is there any thing
so likely to make them do it, as that of leaving them out of the party, or,
what is full as offensive, of bestowing your attention upon the rest of
your guests in so particular a way, as if there was no such thing as a
critick (by occupation) at table.

--I guard against both; for, in the first place, I have left half a dozen
places purposely open for them;--and in the next place, I pay them all
court.--Gentlemen, I kiss your hands, I protest no company could give me
half the pleasure,--by my soul I am glad to see you--I beg only you will
make no strangers of yourselves, but sit down without any ceremony, and
fall on heartily.

I said I had left six places, and I was upon the point of carrying my
complaisance so far, as to have left a seventh open for them,--and in this
very spot I stand on; but being told by a Critick (tho' not by occupation,-
-but by nature) that I had acquitted myself well enough, I shall fill it up
directly, hoping, in the mean time, that I shall be able to make a great
deal of more room next year.

--How, in the name of wonder! could your uncle Toby, who, it seems, was a
military man, and whom you have represented as no fool,--be at the same
time such a confused, pudding-headed, muddle-headed, fellow, as--Go look.

So, Sir Critick, I could have replied; but I scorn it.--'Tis language
unurbane,--and only befitting the man who cannot give clear and
satisfactory accounts of things, or dive deep enough into the first causes
of human ignorance and confusion. It is moreover the reply valiant--and
therefore I reject it; for tho' it might have suited my uncle Toby's
character as a soldier excellently well,--and had he not accustomed
himself, in such attacks, to whistle the Lillabullero, as he wanted no
courage, 'tis the very answer he would have given; yet it would by no means
have done for me. You see as plain as can be, that I write as a man of
erudition;--that even my similies, my allusions, my illustrations, my
metaphors, are erudite,--and that I must sustain my character properly, and
contrast it properly too,--else what would become of me? Why, Sir, I
should be undone;--at this very moment that I am going here to fill up one
place against a critick,--I should have made an opening for a couple.

--Therefore I answer thus:

Pray, Sir, in all the reading which you have ever read, did you ever read
such a book as Locke's Essay upon the Human Understanding?--Don't answer me
rashly--because many, I know, quote the book, who have not read it--and
many have read it who understand it not:--If either of these is your case,
as I write to instruct, I will tell you in three words what the book is.--
It is a history.--A history! of who? what? where? when? Don't hurry
yourself--It is a history-book, Sir, (which may possibly recommend it to
the world) of what passes in a man's own mind; and if you will say so much
of the book, and no more, believe me, you will cut no contemptible figure
in a metaphysick circle.

But this by the way.

Now if you will venture to go along with me, and look down into the bottom
of this matter, it will be found that the cause of obscurity and confusion,
in the mind of a man, is threefold.

Dull organs, dear Sir, in the first place. Secondly, slight and transient
impressions made by the objects, when the said organs are not dull. And
thirdly, a memory like unto a sieve, not able to retain what it has
received.--Call down Dolly your chamber-maid, and I will give you my cap
and bell along with it, if I make not this matter so plain that Dolly
herself should understand it as well as Malbranch.--When Dolly has indited
her epistle to Robin, and has thrust her arm into the bottom of her pocket
hanging by her right side;--take that opportunity to recollect that the
organs and faculties of perception can, by nothing in this world, be so
aptly typified and explained as by that one thing which Dolly's hand is in
search of.--Your organs are not so dull that I should inform you--'tis an
inch, Sir, of red seal-wax.

When this is melted and dropped upon the letter, if Dolly fumbles too long
for her thimble, till the wax is over hardened, it will not receive the
mark of her thimble from the usual impulse which was wont to imprint it.
Very well. If Dolly's wax, for want of better, is bees-wax, or of a temper
too soft,--tho' it may receive,--it will not hold the impression, how hard
soever Dolly thrusts against it; and last of all, supposing the wax good,
and eke the thimble, but applied thereto in careless haste, as her Mistress
rings the bell;--in any one of these three cases the print left by the
thimble will be as unlike the prototype as a brass-jack.

Now you must understand that not one of these was the true cause of the
confusion in my uncle Toby's discourse; and it is for that very reason I
enlarge upon them so long, after the manner of great physiologists--to shew
the world, what it did not arise from.

What it did arise from, I have hinted above, and a fertile source of
obscurity it is,--and ever will be,--and that is the unsteady uses of
words, which have perplexed the clearest and most exalted understandings.

It is ten to one (at Arthur's) whether you have ever read the literary
histories of past ages;--if you have, what terrible battles, 'yclept
logomachies, have they occasioned and perpetuated with so much gall and
ink-shed,--that a good-natured man cannot read the accounts of them without
tears in his eyes.

Gentle critick! when thou hast weighed all this, and considered within
thyself how much of thy own knowledge, discourse, and conversation has been
pestered and disordered, at one time or other, by this, and this only:--
What a pudder and racket in Councils about (Greek); and in the Schools of
the learned about power and about spirit;--about essences, and about
quintessences;--about substances, and about space.--What confusion in
greater Theatres from words of little meaning, and as indeterminate a
sense! when thou considerest this, thou wilt not wonder at my uncle Toby's
perplexities,--thou wilt drop a tear of pity upon his scarp and his
counterscarp;--his glacis and his covered way;--his ravelin and his half-
moon: 'Twas not by ideas,--by Heaven; his life was put in jeopardy by

Chapter 1.XXVIII.

When my uncle Toby got his map of Namur to his mind, he began immediately
to apply himself, and with the utmost diligence, to the study of it; for
nothing being of more importance to him than his recovery, and his recovery
depending, as you have read, upon the passions and affections of his mind,
it behoved him to take the nicest care to make himself so far master of his
subject, as to be able to talk upon it without emotion.

In a fortnight's close and painful application, which, by the bye, did my
uncle Toby's wound, upon his groin, no good,--he was enabled, by the help
of some marginal documents at the feet of the elephant, together with
Gobesius's military architecture and pyroballogy, translated from the
Flemish, to form his discourse with passable perspicuity; and before he was
two full months gone,--he was right eloquent upon it, and could make not
only the attack of the advanced counterscarp with great order;--but having,
by that time, gone much deeper into the art, than what his first motive
made necessary, my uncle Toby was able to cross the Maes and Sambre; make
diversions as far as Vauban's line, the abbey of Salsines, &c. and give his
visitors as distinct a history of each of their attacks, as of that of the
gate of St. Nicolas, where he had the honour to receive his wound.

But desire of knowledge, like the thirst of riches, increases ever with the
acquisition of it. The more my uncle Toby pored over his map, the more he
took a liking to it!--by the same process and electrical assimilation, as I
told you, through which I ween the souls of connoisseurs themselves, by
long friction and incumbition, have the happiness, at length, to get all
be-virtu'd--be-pictured,--be-butterflied, and be-fiddled.

The more my uncle Toby drank of this sweet fountain of science, the greater
was the heat and impatience of his thirst, so that before the first year of
his confinement had well gone round, there was scarce a fortified town in
Italy or Flanders, of which, by one means or other, he had not procured a
plan, reading over as he got them, and carefully collating therewith the
histories of their sieges, their demolitions, their improvements, and new
works, all which he would read with that intense application and delight,
that he would forget himself, his wound, his confinement, his dinner.

In the second year my uncle Toby purchased Ramelli and Cataneo, translated
from the Italian;--likewise Stevinus, Moralis, the Chevalier de Ville,
Lorini, Cochorn, Sheeter, the Count de Pagan, the Marshal Vauban, Mons.
Blondel, with almost as many more books of military architecture, as Don
Quixote was found to have of chivalry, when the curate and barber invaded
his library.

Towards the beginning of the third year, which was in August, ninety-nine,
my uncle Toby found it necessary to understand a little of projectiles:--
and having judged it best to draw his knowledge from the fountain-head, he
began with N. Tartaglia, who it seems was the first man who detected the
imposition of a cannon-ball's doing all that mischief under the notion of a
right line--This N. Tartaglia proved to my uncle Toby to be an impossible

--Endless is the search of Truth.

No sooner was my uncle Toby satisfied which road the cannon-ball did not
go, but he was insensibly led on, and resolved in his mind to enquire and
find out which road the ball did go: For which purpose he was obliged to
set off afresh with old Maltus, and studied him devoutly.--He proceeded
next to Galileo and Torricellius, wherein, by certain Geometrical rules,
infallibly laid down, he found the precise path to be a Parabola--or else
an Hyperbola,--and that the parameter, or latus rectum, of the conic
section of the said path, was to the quantity and amplitude in a direct
ratio, as the whole line to the sine of double the angle of incidence,
formed by the breech upon an horizontal plane;--and that the
semiparameter,--stop! my dear uncle Toby--stop!--go not one foot farther
into this thorny and bewildered track,--intricate are the steps! intricate
are the mazes of this labyrinth! intricate are the troubles which the
pursuit of this bewitching phantom Knowledge will bring upon thee.--O my
uncle;--fly--fly,--fly from it as from a serpent.--Is it fit--goodnatured
man! thou should'st sit up, with the wound upon thy groin, whole nights
baking thy blood with hectic watchings?--Alas! 'twill exasperate thy
symptoms,--check thy perspirations--evaporate thy spirits--waste thy animal
strength, dry up thy radical moisture, bring thee into a costive habit of
body,--impair thy health,--and hasten all the infirmities of thy old age.--
O my uncle! my uncle Toby.

Chapter 1.XXIX.

I would not give a groat for that man's knowledge in pen-craft, 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 semi-parameter 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 any thing 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

Chapter 1.XXX.

When a man gives himself up to the government of a ruling passion,--or, in
other words, when his Hobby-Horse grows headstrong,--farewell cool reason
and fair discretion!

My uncle Toby's wound was near well, and as soon as the surgeon recovered
his surprize, and could get leave to say as much--he told him, 'twas just
beginning to incarnate; and that if no fresh exfoliation happened, which
there was no sign of,--it would be dried up in five or six weeks. The
sound of as many Olympiads, twelve hours before, would have conveyed an
idea of shorter duration to my uncle Toby's mind.--The succession of his
ideas was now rapid,--he broiled with impatience to put his design in
execution;--and so, without consulting farther with any soul living,--
which, by the bye, I think is right, when you are predetermined to take no
one soul's advice,--he privately ordered Trim, his man, to pack up a bundle
of lint and dressings, and hire a chariot-and-four to be at the door
exactly by twelve o'clock that day, when he knew my father would be upon
'Change.--So leaving a bank-note upon the table for the surgeon's care of
him, and a letter of tender thanks for his brother's--he packed up his
maps, his books of fortification, his instruments, &c. and by the help of a
crutch on one side, and Trim on the other,--my uncle Toby embarked for

The reason, or rather the rise of this sudden demigration was as follows:

The table in my uncle Toby's room, and at which, the night before this
change happened, he was sitting with his maps, &c. about him--being
somewhat of the smallest, for that infinity of great and small instruments
of knowledge which usually lay crowded upon it--he had the accident, in
reaching over for his tobacco-box, to throw down his compasses, and in
stooping to take the compasses up, with his sleeve he threw down his case
of instruments and snuffers;--and as the dice took a run against him, in
his endeavouring to catch the snuffers in falling,--he thrust Monsieur
Blondel off the table, and Count de Pagon o'top of him.

'Twas to no purpose for a man, lame as my uncle Toby was, to think of
redressing these evils by himself,--he rung his bell for his man Trim;--
Trim, quoth my uncle Toby, prithee see what confusion I have here been
making--I must have some better contrivance, Trim.--Can'st not thou take my
rule, and measure the length and breadth of this table, and then go and
bespeak me one as big again?--Yes, an' please your Honour, replied Trim,
making a bow; but I hope your Honour will be soon well enough to get down
to your country-seat, where,--as your Honour takes so much pleasure in
fortification, we could manage this matter to a T.

I must here inform you, that this servant of my uncle Toby's, who went by
the name of Trim, had been a corporal in my uncle's own company,--his real
name was James Butler,--but having got the nick-name of Trim, in the
regiment, my uncle Toby, unless when he happened to be very angry with him,
would never call him by any other name.

The poor fellow had been disabled for the service, by a wound on his left
knee by a musket-bullet, at the battle of Landen, which was two years
before the affair of Namur;--and as the fellow was well-beloved in the
regiment, and a handy fellow into the bargain, my uncle Toby took him for
his servant; and of an excellent use was he, attending my uncle Toby in the
camp and in his quarters as a valet, groom, barber, cook, sempster, and
nurse; and indeed, from first to last, waited upon him and served him with
great fidelity and affection.

My uncle Toby loved the man in return, and what attached him more to him
still, was the similitude of their knowledge.--For Corporal Trim, (for so,
for the future, I shall call him) by four years occasional attention to his
Master's discourse upon fortified towns, and the advantage of prying and
peeping continually into his Master's plans, &c. exclusive and besides what
he gained Hobby-Horsically, as a body-servant, Non Hobby Horsical per se;--
had become no mean proficient in the science; and was thought, by the cook
and chamber-maid, to know as much of the nature of strong-holds as my uncle
Toby himself.

I have but one more stroke to give to finish Corporal Trim's character,--
and it is the only dark line in it.--The fellow loved to advise,--or rather
to hear himself talk; his carriage, however, was so perfectly respectful,
'twas easy to keep him silent when you had him so; but set his tongue a-
going,--you had no hold of him--he was voluble;--the eternal interlardings
of your Honour, with the respectfulness of Corporal Trim's manner,
interceding so strong in behalf of his elocution,--that though you might
have been incommoded,--you could not well be angry. My uncle Toby was
seldom either the one or the other with him,--or, at least, this fault, in
Trim, broke no squares with them. My uncle Toby, as I said, loved the
man;--and besides, as he ever looked upon a faithful servant,--but as an
humble friend,--he could not bear to stop his mouth.--Such was Corporal

If I durst presume, continued Trim, to give your Honour my advice, and
speak my opinion in this matter.--Thou art welcome, Trim, quoth my uncle
Toby--speak,--speak what thou thinkest upon the subject, man, without
fear.--Why then, replied Trim, (not hanging his ears and scratching his
head like a country-lout, but) stroking his hair back from his forehead,
and standing erect as before his division,--I think, quoth Trim, advancing
his left, which was his lame leg, a little forwards,--and pointing with his
right hand open towards a map of Dunkirk, which was pinned against the
hangings,--I think, quoth Corporal Trim, with humble submission to your
Honour's better judgment,--that these ravelins, bastions, curtins, and
hornworks, make but a poor, contemptible, fiddle-faddle piece of work of it
here upon paper, compared to what your Honour and I could make of it were
we in the country by ourselves, and had but a rood, or a rood and a half of
ground to do what we pleased with: As summer is coming on, continued Trim,
your Honour might sit out of doors, and give me the nography--(Call it
ichnography, quoth my uncle,)--of the town or citadel, your Honour was
pleased to sit down before,--and I will be shot by your Honour upon the
glacis of it, if I did not fortify it to your Honour's mind.--I dare say
thou would'st, Trim, quoth my uncle.--For if your Honour, continued the
Corporal, could but mark me the polygon, with its exact lines and angles--
That I could do very well, quoth my uncle.--I would begin with the fosse,
and if your Honour could tell me the proper depth and breadth--I can to a
hair's breadth, Trim, replied my uncle.--I would throw out the earth upon
this hand towards the town for the scarp,--and on that hand towards the
campaign for the counterscarp.--Very right, Trim, quoth my uncle Toby:--And
when I had sloped them to your mind,--an' please your Honour, I would face
the glacis, as the finest fortifications are done in Flanders, with sods,--
and as your Honour knows they should be,--and I would make the walls and
parapets with sods too.--The best engineers call them gazons, Trim, said my
uncle Toby.--Whether they are gazons or sods, is not much matter, replied
Trim; your Honour knows they are ten times beyond a facing either of brick
or stone.--I know they are, Trim in some respects,--quoth my uncle Toby,
nodding his head;--for a cannon-ball enters into the gazon right onwards,
without bringing any rubbish down with it, which might fill the fosse, (as
was the case at St. Nicolas's gate) and facilitate the passage over it.

Your Honour understands these matters, replied Corporal Trim, better than
any officer in his Majesty's service;--but would your Honour please to let
the bespeaking of the table alone, and let us but go into the country, I
would work under your Honour's directions like a horse, and make
fortifications for you something like a tansy, with all their batteries,
saps, ditches, and palisadoes, that it should be worth all the world's
riding twenty miles to go and see it.

My uncle Toby blushed as red as scarlet as Trim went on;--but it was not a
blush of guilt,--of modesty,--or of anger,--it was a blush of joy;--he was
fired with Corporal Trim's project and description.--Trim! said my uncle
Toby, thou hast said enough.--We might begin the campaign, continued Trim,
on the very day that his Majesty and the Allies take the field, and
demolish them town by town as fast as--Trim, quoth my uncle Toby, say no
more. Your Honour, continued Trim, might sit in your arm-chair (pointing
to it) this fine weather, giving me your orders, and I would--Say no more,
Trim, quoth my uncle Toby--Besides, your Honour would get not only pleasure
and good pastime--but good air, and good exercise, and good health,--and
your Honour's wound would be well in a month. Thou hast said enough,
Trim,--quoth my uncle Toby (putting his hand into his breeches-pocket)--I
like thy project mightily.--And if your Honour pleases, I'll this moment go
and buy a pioneer's spade to take down with us, and I'll bespeak a shovel
and a pick-axe, and a couple of--Say no more, Trim, quoth my uncle Toby,
leaping up upon one leg, quite overcome with rapture,--and thrusting a
guinea into Trim's hand,--Trim, said my uncle Toby, say no more;--but go
down, Trim, this moment, my lad, and bring up my supper this instant.

Trim ran down and brought up his master's supper,--to no purpose:--Trim's
plan of operation ran so in my uncle Toby's head, he could not taste it.--
Trim, quoth my uncle Toby, get me to bed.--'Twas all one.--Corporal Trim's
description had fired his imagination,--my uncle Toby could not shut his
eyes.--The more he considered it, the more bewitching the scene appeared to
him;--so that, two full hours before day-light, he had come to a final
determination and had concerted the whole plan of his and Corporal Trim's

My uncle Toby had a little neat country-house of his own, in the village
where my father's estate lay at Shandy, which had been left him by an old
uncle, with a small estate of about one hundred pounds a-year. Behind this
house, and contiguous to it, was a kitchen-garden of about half an acre,
and at the bottom of the garden, and cut off from it by a tall yew hedge,
was a bowling-green, containing just about as much ground as Corporal Trim
wished for;--so that as Trim uttered the words, 'A rood and a half of
ground to do what they would with,'--this identical bowling-green instantly
presented itself, and became curiously painted all at once, upon the retina
of my uncle Toby's fancy;--which was the physical cause of making him
change colour, or at least of heightening his blush, to that immoderate
degree I spoke of.

Never did lover post down to a beloved mistress with more heat and
expectation, than my uncle Toby did, to enjoy this self-same thing in
private;--I say in private;--for it was sheltered from the house, as I told
you, by a tall yew hedge, and was covered on the other three sides, from
mortal sight, by rough holly and thick-set flowering shrubs:--so that the
idea of not being seen, did not a little contribute to the idea of pleasure
pre-conceived in my uncle Toby's mind.--Vain thought! however thick it was
planted about,--or private soever it might seem,--to think, dear uncle
Toby, of enjoying a thing which took up a whole rood and a half of ground,-
-and not have it known!

How my uncle Toby and Corporal Trim managed this matter,--with the history
of their campaigns, which were no way barren of events,--may make no
uninteresting under-plot in the epitasis and working-up of this drama.--At
present the scene must drop,--and change for the parlour fire-side.

Chapter 1.XXXI.

--What can they be doing? brother, said my father.--I think, replied my
uncle Toby,--taking, as I told you, his pipe from his mouth, and striking
the ashes out of it as he began his sentence;--I think, replied he,--it
would not be amiss, brother, if we rung the bell.

Pray, what's all that racket over our heads, Obadiah?--quoth my father;--my
brother and I can scarce hear ourselves speak.

Sir, answered Obadiah, making a bow towards his left shoulder,--my Mistress
is taken very badly.--And where's Susannah running down the garden there,
as if they were going to ravish her?--Sir, she is running the shortest cut
into the town, replied Obadiah, to fetch the old midwife.--Then saddle a
horse, quoth my father, and do you go directly for Dr. Slop, the man-
midwife, with all our services,--and let him know your mistress is fallen
into labour--and that I desire he will return with you with all speed.

It is very strange, says my father, addressing himself to my uncle Toby, as
Obadiah shut the door,--as there is so expert an operator as Dr. Slop so
near,--that my wife should persist to the very last in this obstinate
humour of hers, in trusting the life of my child, who has had one
misfortune already, to the ignorance of an old woman;--and not only the
life of my child, brother,--but her own life, and with it the lives of all
the children I might, peradventure, have begot out of her hereafter.

Mayhap, brother, replied my uncle Toby, my sister does it to save the
expence:--A pudding's end,--replied my father,--the Doctor must be paid the
same for inaction as action,--if not better,--to keep him in temper.

--Then it can be out of nothing in the whole world, quoth my uncle Toby, in
the simplicity of his heart,--but Modesty.--My sister, I dare say, added
he, does not care to let a man come so near her. . .. I will not say
whether my uncle Toby had completed the sentence or not;--'tis for his
advantage to suppose he had,--as, I think, he could have added no One Word
which would have improved it.

If, on the contrary, my uncle Toby had not fully arrived at the period's
end--then the world stands indebted to the sudden snapping of my father's
tobacco-pipe for one of the neatest examples of that ornamental figure in
oratory, which Rhetoricians stile the Aposiopesis.--Just Heaven! how does
the Poco piu and the Poco meno of the Italian artists;--the insensible more
or less, determine the precise line of beauty in the sentence, as well as
in the statue! How do the slight touches of the chisel, the pencil, the
pen, the fiddle-stick, et caetera,--give the true swell, which gives the
true pleasure!--O my countrymen:--be nice; be cautious of your language;
and never, O! never let it be forgotten upon what small particles your
eloquence and your fame depend.

--'My sister, mayhap,' quoth my uncle Toby, 'does not choose to let a man
come so near her. . ..' Make this dash,--'tis an Aposiopesis,--Take the
dash away, and write Backside,--'tis Bawdy.--Scratch Backside out, and put
Cover'd way in, 'tis a Metaphor;--and, I dare say, as fortification ran so
much in my uncle Toby's head, that if he had been left to have added one
word to the sentence,--that word was it.

But whether that was the case or not the case;--or whether the snapping of
my father's tobacco-pipe, so critically, happened through accident or
anger, will be seen in due time.

Chapter 1.XXXII.

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 any thing 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 any
thing 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 eyes
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.

Every thing 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, every one 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.

Chapter 1.XXXIII.

It is about an hour and a half's tolerable good reading since my uncle Toby
rung the bell, when Obadiah was ordered to saddle a horse, and go for Dr.
Slop, the man-midwife;--so that no one can say, with reason, that I have
not allowed Obadiah time enough, poetically speaking, and considering the
emergency too, both to go and come;--though, morally and truly speaking,
the man perhaps has scarce had time to get on his boots.

If the hypercritick will go upon this; and is resolved after all to take a
pendulum, and measure the true distance betwixt the ringing of the bell,
and the rap at the door;--and, after finding it to be no more than two
minutes, thirteen seconds, and three-fifths,--should take upon him to
insult over me for such a breach in the unity, or rather probability of
time;--I would remind him, that the idea of duration, and of its simple
modes, is got merely from the train and succession of our ideas--and is the
true scholastic pendulum,--and by which, as a scholar, I will be tried in
this matter,--abjuring and detesting the jurisdiction of all other
pendulums whatever.

I would therefore desire him to consider that it is but poor eight miles
from Shandy-Hall to Dr. Slop, the man-midwife's house:--and that whilst
Obadiah has been going those said miles and back, I have brought my uncle
Toby from Namur, quite across all Flanders, into England:--That I have had
him ill upon my hands near four years;--and have since travelled him and
Corporal Trim in a chariot-and-four, a journey of near two hundred miles
down into Yorkshire.--all which put together, must have prepared the
reader's imagination for the entrance of Dr. Slop upon the stage,--as much,
at least (I hope) as a dance, a song, or a concerto between the acts.

If my hypercritick is intractable, alledging, that two minutes and thirteen
seconds are no more than two minutes and thirteen seconds,--when I have
said all I can about them; and that this plea, though it might save me
dramatically, will damn me biographically, rendering my book from this very
moment, a professed Romance, which, before, was a book apocryphal:--If I am
thus pressed--I then put an end to the whole objection and controversy
about it all at once,--by acquainting him, that Obadiah had not got above
threescore yards from the stable-yard, before he met with Dr. Slop;--and
indeed he gave a dirty proof that he had met with him, and was within an
ace of giving a tragical one too.

Imagine to yourself;--but this had better begin a new chapter.

Chapter 1.XXXIV.

Imagine to yourself a little squat, uncourtly figure of a Doctor Slop, of
about four feet and a half perpendicular height, with a breadth of back,
and a sesquipedality of belly, which might have done honour to a serjeant
in the horse-guards.

Such were the out-lines of Dr. Slop's figure, which--if you have read
Hogarth's analysis of beauty, and if you have not, I wish you would;--you
must know, may as certainly be caricatured, and conveyed to the mind by
three strokes as three hundred.

Imagine such a one,--for such, I say, were the outlines of Dr. Slop's
figure, coming slowly along, foot by foot, waddling thro' the dirt upon the
vertebrae of a little diminutive pony, of a pretty colour--but of
strength,--alack!--scarce able to have made an amble of it, under such a
fardel, had the roads been in an ambling condition.--They were not.--
Imagine to yourself, Obadiah mounted upon a strong monster of a coach-
horse, pricked into a full gallop, and making all practicable speed the
adverse way.

Pray, Sir, let me interest you a moment in this description.

Had Dr. Slop beheld Obadiah a mile off, posting in a narrow lane directly
towards him, at that monstrous rate,--splashing and plunging like a devil
thro' thick and thin, as he approached, would not such a phaenomenon, with
such a vortex of mud and water moving along with it, round its axis,--have
been a subject of juster apprehension to Dr. Slop in his situation, than
the worst of Whiston's comets?--To say nothing of the Nucleus; that is, of
Obadiah and the coach-horse.--In my idea, the vortex alone of 'em was
enough to have involved and carried, if not the doctor, at least the
doctor's pony, quite away with it. What then do you think must the terror
and hydrophobia of Dr. Slop have been, when you read (which you are just
going to do) that he was advancing thus warily along towards Shandy-Hall,
and had approached to within sixty yards of it, and within five yards of a
sudden turn, made by an acute angle of the garden-wall,--and in the
dirtiest part of a dirty lane,--when Obadiah and his coach-horse turned the
corner, rapid, furious,--pop,--full upon him!--Nothing, I think, in nature,
can be supposed more terrible than such a rencounter,--so imprompt! so ill
prepared to stand the shock of it as Dr. Slop was.

What could Dr. Slop do?--he crossed himself + --Pugh!--but the doctor, Sir,
was a Papist.--No matter; he had better have kept hold of the pummel.--He
had so;--nay, as it happened, he had better have done nothing at all; for
in crossing himself he let go his whip,--and in attempting to save his whip
betwixt his knee and his saddle's skirt, as it slipped, he lost his
stirrup,--in losing which he lost his seat;--and in the multitude of all
these losses (which, by the bye, shews what little advantage there is in
crossing) the unfortunate doctor lost his presence of mind. So that
without waiting for Obadiah's onset, he left his pony to its destiny,
tumbling off it diagonally, something in the stile and manner of a pack of
wool, and without any other consequence from the fall, save that of being
left (as it would have been) with the broadest part of him sunk about
twelve inches deep in the mire.

Obadiah pull'd off his cap twice to Dr. Slop;--once as he was falling,--and
then again when he saw him seated.--Ill-timed complaisance;--had not the
fellow better have stopped his horse, and got off and help'd him?--Sir, he
did all that his situation would allow;--but the Momentum of the coach-
horse was so great, that Obadiah could not do it all at once; he rode in a
circle three times round Dr. Slop, before he could fully accomplish it any
how;--and at the last, when he did stop his beast, 'twas done with such an
explosion of mud, that Obadiah had better have been a league off. In
short, never was a Dr. Slop so beluted, and so transubstantiated, since
that affair came into fashion.

Chapter 1.XXXV.

When Dr. Slop entered the back parlour, where my father and my uncle Toby
were discoursing upon the nature of women,--it was hard to determine
whether Dr. Slop's figure, or Dr. Slop's presence, occasioned more surprize
to them; for as the accident happened so near the house, as not to make it
worth while for Obadiah to remount him,--Obadiah had led him in as he was,
unwiped, unappointed, unannealed, with all his stains and blotches on him.-
-He stood like Hamlet's ghost, motionless and speechless, for a full minute
and a half at the parlour-door (Obadiah still holding his hand) with all
the majesty of mud. His hinder parts, upon which he had received his fall,
totally besmeared,--and in every other part of him, blotched over in such a
manner with Obadiah's explosion, that you would have sworn (without mental
reservation) that every grain of it had taken effect.

Here was a fair opportunity for my uncle Toby to have triumphed over my
father in his turn;--for no mortal, who had beheld Dr. Slop in that pickle,
could have dissented from so much, at least, of my uncle Toby's opinion,
'That mayhap his sister might not care to let such a Dr. Slop come so near
her. . ..' But it was the Argumentum ad hominem; and if my uncle Toby was
not very expert at it, you may think, he might not care to use it.--No; the
reason was,--'twas not his nature to insult.

Dr. Slop's presence at that time, was no less problematical than the mode
of it; tho' it is certain, one moment's reflexion in my father might have
solved it; for he had apprized Dr. Slop but the week before, that my mother
was at her full reckoning; and as the doctor had heard nothing since, 'twas
natural and very political too in him, to have taken a ride to Shandy-Hall,
as he did, merely to see how matters went on.

But my father's mind took unfortunately a wrong turn in the investigation;
running, like the hypercritick's, altogether upon the ringing of the bell
and the rap upon the door,--measuring their distance, and keeping his mind
so intent upon the operation, as to have power to think of nothing else,--
common-place infirmity of the greatest mathematicians! working with might
and main at the demonstration, and so wasting all their strength upon it,
that they have none left in them to draw the corollary, to do good with.

The ringing of the bell, and the rap upon the door, struck likewise strong
upon the sensorium of my uncle Toby,--but it excited a very different train
of thoughts;--the two irreconcileable pulsations instantly brought
Stevinus, the great engineer, along with them, into my uncle Toby's mind.
What business Stevinus had in this affair,--is the greatest problem of
all:--It shall be solved,--but not in the next chapter.

Chapter 1.XXXVI.

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 up stairs 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 entrusted 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-tete,--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.

Chapter 1.XXXVII.

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

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 horn-works.--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 beadsteads;--tho', I
know Du Cange says, 'That bed-curtains, in all probability, have taken
their name from them;'--nor have the horn-works he speaks of, any thing 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 fosse 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

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 a 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 Literae 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 any thing 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.

Chapter 1.XXXVIII.

My brother does it, quoth my uncle Toby, out of principle.--In a family
way, I suppose, quoth Dr. Slop.--Pshaw!--said my father,--'tis not worth
talking of.

Chapter 1.XXXIX.

At the end of the last chapter, my father and my uncle Toby were left both
standing, like Brutus and Cassius, at the close of the scene, making up
their accounts.

As my father spoke the three last words,--he sat down;--my uncle Toby
exactly followed his example, only, that before he took his chair, he rung
the bell, to order Corporal Trim, who was in waiting, to step home for
Stevinus:--my uncle Toby's house being no farther off than the opposite
side of the way.

Some men would have dropped the subject of Stevinus;--but my uncle Toby had
no resentment in his heart, and he went on with the subject, to shew my
father that he had none.

Your sudden appearance, Dr. Slop, quoth my uncle, resuming the discourse,
instantly brought Stevinus into my head. (My father, you may be sure, did
not offer to lay any more wagers upon Stevinus's head.)--Because, continued
my uncle Toby, the celebrated sailing chariot, which belonged to Prince
Maurice, and was of such wonderful contrivance and velocity, as to carry
half a dozen people thirty German miles, in I don't know how few minutes,--
was invented by Stevinus, that great mathematician and engineer.

You might have spared your servant the trouble, quoth Dr. Slop (as the
fellow is lame) of going for Stevinus's account of it, because in my return
from Leyden thro' the Hague, I walked as far as Schevling, which is two
long miles, on purpose to take a view of it.

That's nothing, replied my uncle Toby, to what the learned Peireskius did,
who walked a matter of five hundred miles, reckoning from Paris to
Schevling, and from Schevling to Paris back again, in order to see it, and
nothing else.

Some men cannot bear to be out-gone.

The more fool Peireskius, replied Dr. Slop. But mark, 'twas out of no
contempt of Peireskius at all;--but that Peireskius's indefatigable labour
in trudging so far on foot, out of love for the sciences, reduced the
exploit of Dr. Slop, in that affair, to nothing:--the more fool Peireskius,
said he again.--Why so?--replied my father, taking his brother's part, not
only to make reparation as fast as he could for the insult he had given
him, which sat still upon my father's mind;--but partly, that my father
began really to interest himself in the discourse.--Why so?--said he. Why
is Peireskius, or any man else, to be abused for an appetite for that, or
any other morsel of sound knowledge: For notwithstanding I know nothing of
the chariot in question, continued he, the inventor of it must have had a
very mechanical head; and tho' I cannot guess upon what principles of
philosophy he has atchieved it;--yet certainly his machine has been
constructed upon solid ones, be they what they will, or it could not have
answered at the rate my brother mentions.

It answered, replied my uncle Toby, as well, if not better; for, as
Peireskius elegantly expresses it, speaking of the velocity of its motion,
Tam citus erat, quam erat ventus; which, unless I have forgot my Latin, is,
that it was as swift as the wind itself.

But pray, Dr. Slop, quoth my father, interrupting my uncle (tho' not
without begging pardon for it at the same time) upon what principles was
this self-same chariot set a-going?--Upon very pretty principles to be
sure, replied Dr. Slop:--And I have often wondered, continued he, evading
the question, why none of our gentry, who live upon large plains like this
of ours,--(especially they whose wives are not past child-bearing) attempt
nothing of this kind; for it would not only be infinitely expeditious upon
sudden calls, to which the sex is subject,--if the wind only served,--but
would be excellent good husbandry to make use of the winds, which cost
nothing, and which eat nothing, rather than horses, which (the devil take
'em) both cost and eat a great deal.

For that very reason, replied my father, 'Because they cost nothing, and
because they eat nothing,'--the scheme is bad;--it is the consumption of
our products, as well as the manufactures of them, which gives bread to the
hungry, circulates trade,--brings in money, and supports the value of our
lands;--and tho', I own, if I was a Prince, I would generously recompense
the scientifick head which brought forth such contrivances;--yet I would as
peremptorily suppress the use of them.

My father here had got into his element,--and was going on as prosperously
with his dissertation upon trade, as my uncle Toby had before, upon his of
fortification;--but to the loss of much sound knowledge, the destinies in
the morning had decreed that no dissertation of any kind should be spun by
my father that day,--for as he opened his mouth to begin the next sentence,

Chapter 1.XL.

In popped Corporal Trim with Stevinus:--But 'twas too late,--all the
discourse had been exhausted without him, and was running into a new

--You may take the book home again, Trim, said my uncle Toby, nodding to

But prithee, Corporal, quoth my father, drolling,--look first into it, and
see if thou canst spy aught of a sailing chariot in it.

Corporal Trim, by being in the service, had learned to obey,--and not to
remonstrate,--so taking the book to a side-table, and running over the
leaves; An' please your Honour, said Trim, I can see no such thing;--
however, continued the Corporal, drolling a little in his turn, I'll make
sure work of it, an' please your Honour;--so taking hold of the two covers
of the book, one in each hand, and letting the leaves fall down as he bent
the covers back, he gave the book a good sound shake.

There is something falling out, however, said Trim, an' please your
Honour;--but it is not a chariot, or any thing like one:--Prithee,
Corporal, said my father, smiling, what is it then?--I think, answered
Trim, stooping to take it up,--'tis more like a sermon,--for it begins with
a text of scripture, and the chapter and verse;--and then goes on, not as a
chariot, but like a sermon directly.

The company smiled.

I cannot conceive how it is possible, quoth my uncle Toby, for such a thing
as a sermon to have got into my Stevinus.

I think 'tis a sermon, replied Trim:--but if it please your Honours, as it
is a fair hand, I will read you a page;--for Trim, you must know, loved to
hear himself read almost as well as talk.

I have ever a strong propensity, said my father, to look into things which
cross my way, by such strange fatalities as these;--and as we have nothing
better to do, at least till Obadiah gets back, I shall be obliged to you,
brother, if Dr. Slop has no objection to it, to order the Corporal to give
us a page or two of it,--if he is as able to do it, as he seems willing.
An' please your honour, quoth Trim, I officiated two whole campaigns, in
Flanders, as clerk to the chaplain of the regiment.--He can read it, quoth
my uncle Toby, as well as I can.--Trim, I assure you, was the best scholar
in my company, and should have had the next halberd, but for the poor
fellow's misfortune. Corporal Trim laid his hand upon his heart, and made
an humble bow to his master; then laying down his hat upon the floor, and
taking up the sermon in his left hand, in order to have his right at
liberty,--he advanced, nothing doubting, into the middle of the room, where
he could best see, and be best seen by his audience.

Chapter 1.XLI.

--If you have any objection,--said my father, addressing himself to Dr.
Slop. Not in the least, replied Dr. Slop;--for it does not appear on which
side of the question it is wrote,--it may be a composition of a divine of
our church, as well as yours,--so that we run equal risques.--'Tis wrote
upon neither side, quoth Trim, for 'tis only upon Conscience, an' please
your Honours.

Trim's reason put his audience into good humour,--all but Dr. Slop, who
turning his head about towards Trim, looked a little angry.

Begin, Trim,--and read distinctly, quoth my father.--I will, an' please
your Honour, replied the Corporal, making a bow, and bespeaking attention
with a slight movement of his right hand.

Chapter 1.XLII.

--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
cyclopaedia 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,

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.--A 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

'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 and day from its

'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
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

'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 has 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 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 fosse 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 that 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 or 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 loose 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 how 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


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