XXVI
There is nothing shows the character of my father and my uncle Toby, in a more entertaining light, than their different manner of deportment, under the same accidentвБ†вЄЇвБ†for I call not love a misfortune, from a persuasion, that a manвАЩs heart is ever the better for itвБ†вЄЇвБ†Great God! what must my uncle TobyвАЩs have been, when вАЩtwas all benignity without it.
My father, as appears from many of his papers, was very subject to this passion, before he marriedвБ†вЄЇвБ†but from a little subacid kind of drollish impatience in his nature, whenever it befell him, he would never submit to it like a christian; but would pish, and huff, and bounce, and kick, and play the Devil, and write the bitterest Philippicks against the eye that ever man wroteвБ†вЄЇвБ†there is one in verse upon somebodyвАЩs eye or other, that for two or three nights together, had put him by his rest; which in his first transport of resentment against it, he begins thus:
вАЬA Devil вАЩtisвБ†вЄЇвБ†and mischief such doth work
As never yet did Pagan, Jew, or Turk.вАЭ
In short, during the whole paroxism, my father was all abuse and foul language, approaching rather towards maledictionвБ†вЄЇвБ†only he did not do it with as much method as ErnulphusвБ†вЄЇвБ†he was too impetuous; nor with ErnulphusвАЩs policyвБ†вЄЇвБ†for though my father, with the most intolerant spirit, would curse both this and that, and everything under heaven, which was either aiding or abetting to his loveвБ†вЄЇвБ†yet never concluded his chapter of curses upon it, without cursing himself in at the bargain, as one of the most egregious fools and coxcombs, he would say, that ever was let loose in the world.
My uncle Toby, on the contrary, took it like a lambвБ†вЄЇвБ†sat still and let the poison work in his veins without resistanceвБ†вЄЇвБ†in the sharpest exacerbations of his wound (like that on his groin) he never dropt one fretful or discontented wordвБ†вЄЇвБ†he blamed neither heaven nor earthвБ†вЄЇвБ†or thought or spoke an injurious thing of anybody, or any part of it; he sat solitary and pensive with his pipeвБ†вЄЇвБ†looking at his lame legвБ†вЄЇвБ†then whiffing out a sentimental heigh ho! which mixing with the smoke, incommoded no one mortal.
He took it like a lambвБ†вЄЇвБ†I say.
In truth he had mistook it at first; for having taken a ride with my father, that very morning, to save if possible a beautiful wood, which the dean and chapter were hewing down to give to the poor; which said wood being in full view of my uncle TobyвАЩs house, and of singular service to him in his description of the battle of WynnendaleвБ†вАФby trotting on too hastily to save itвБ†вЄЇвБ†upon an uneasy saddleвБ†вЄЇвБ†worse horse, etc. etcвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ it had so happened, that the serous part of the blood had got betwixt the two skins, in the nethermost part of my uncle TobyвБ†вЄЇвБ†the first shootings of which (as my uncle Toby had no experience of love) he had taken for a part of the passionвБ†вАФtill the blister breaking in the one caseвБ†вАФand the other remainingвБ†вАФmy uncle Toby was presently convinced, that his wound was not a skin-deep woundвБ†вЄЇвБ†but that it had gone to his heart.