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I

I wish either my father or my mother, or indeed both of them, as they were in duty both equally bound to it, had minded what they were about when they begot me; had they duly considerвАЩd how much depended upon what they were then doing;вБ†вАФthat not only the production of a rational Being was concerned in it, but that possibly the happy formation and temperature of his body, perhaps his genius and the very cast of his mind;вБ†вАФand, for aught they knew to the contrary, even the fortunes of his whole house might take their turn from the humours and dispositions which were then uppermost;вБ†вЄЇвБ†Had they duly weighed and considered all this, and proceeded accordingly,вБ†вЄЇвБ†I am verily persuaded I should have made a quite different figure in the world from that in which the reader is likely to see me.вБ†вАФBelieve me, good folks, this is not so inconsiderable a thing as many of you may think it;вБ†вАФyou have all, I dare say, heard of the animal spirits, as how they are transfused from father to son, etc., etc.вБ†вАФand a great deal to that purpose:вБ†вАФWell, you may take my word, that nine parts in ten of a manвАЩs sense or his nonsense, his successes and miscarriages in this world depend upon their motions and activity, and the different tracts and trains you put them into, so that when they are once set a-going, whether right or wrong, вАЩtis not a halfpenny matter,вБ†вАФaway they go cluttering like hey-go mad; and by treading the same steps over and over again, they presently make a road of it, as plain and as smooth as a garden-walk, which, when they are once used to, the Devil himself sometimes shall not be able to drive them off it.

Pray, my Dear, quoth my mother, have you not forgot to wind up the clock?вБ†вЄїGood GвБ†вЄЇ! cried my father, making an exclamation, but taking care to moderate his voice at the same time,вБ†вЄЇвБ†Did ever woman, since the creation of the world, interrupt a man with such a silly question? Pray, what was your father saying?вБ†вЄїNothing.

II

вЄїThen, positively, there is nothing in the question that I can see, either good or bad.вБ†вЄЇвБ†Then, let me tell you, Sir, it was a very unseasonable question at least,вБ†вАФbecause it scattered and dispersed the animal spirits, whose business it was to have escorted and gone hand in hand with the Homunculus, and conducted him safe to the place destined for his reception.

The Homunculus, Sir, in however low and ludicrous a light he may appear, in this age of levity, to the eye of folly or prejudice;вБ†вАФto the eye of reason in scientifick research, he stands confessвАЩdвБ†вАФa¬†Being guarded and circumscribed with rights.вБ†вЄЇвБ†The minutest philosophers, who, by the by, have the most enlarged understandings (their souls being inversely as their enquiries), show us incontestably, that the Homunculus is created by the same hand,вБ†вАФengenderвАЩd in the same course of nature,вБ†вАФendowвАЩd with the same locomotive powers and faculties with us:вБ†вАФThat he consists as we do, of skin, hair, fat, flesh, veins, arteries, ligaments, nerves, cartilages, bones, marrow, brains, glands, genitals, humours, and articulations;вБ†вАФis a Being of as much activity,вБ†вАФand, in all senses of the word, as much and as truly our fellow-creature as my Lord Chancellor of England.вБ†вАФHe may be benefited,вБ†вАФhe may be injured,вБ†вАФhe may obtain redress;вБ†вАФin a word, he has all the claims and rights of humanity, which Tully, Puffendorf, or the best ethick writers allow to arise out of that state and relation.

Now, dear Sir, what if any accident had befallen him in his way alone!вБ†вАФor that, through terror of it, natural to so young a traveller, my little Gentleman had got to his journeyвАЩs end miserably spent;вБ†вАФhis muscular strength and virility worn down to a thread;вБ†вАФhis own animal spirits ruffled beyond description,вБ†вАФand that in this sad disordered state of nerves, he had lain down a prey to sudden starts, or a series of melancholy dreams and fancies, for nine long, long months together.вБ†вАФI tremble to think what a foundation had been laid for a thousand weaknesses both of body and mind, which no skill of the physician or the philosopher could ever afterwards have set thoroughly to rights.

III

To my uncle Mr.¬†Toby Shandy do I stand indebted for the preceding anecdote, to whom my father, who was an excellent natural philosopher, and much given to close reasoning upon the smallest matters, had oft, and heavily complained of the injury; but once more particularly, as my uncle Toby well rememberвАЩd, upon his observing a most unaccountable obliquity (as he callвАЩd it) in my manner of setting up my top, and justifying the principles upon which I had done it,вБ†вАФthe old gentleman shook his head, and in a tone more expressive by half of sorrow than reproach,вБ†вАФhe said his heart all along foreboded, and he saw it verified in this, and from a thousand other observations he had made upon me, That I should neither think nor act like any other manвАЩs child:вБ†вАФBut alas! continued he, shaking his head a second time, and wiping away a tear which was trickling down his cheeks, My TristramвАЩs misfortunes began nine months before ever he came into the world.

вАФMy mother, who was sitting by, lookвАЩd up,вБ†вАФbut she knew no more than her backside what my father meant,вБ†вАФbut my uncle, Mr.¬†Toby Shandy, who had been often informed of the affair,вБ†вАФunderstood him very well.

IV

I know there are readers in the world, as well as many other good people in it, who are no readers at all, who find themselves ill at ease, unless they are let into the whole secret from first to last, of everything which concerns you.

It is in pure compliance with this humour of theirs, and from a backwardness in my nature to disappoint any one soul living, that I have been so very particular already. As my life and opinions are likely to make some noise in the world, and, if I conjecture right, will take in all ranks, professions, and denominations of men whatever,вБ†вАФbe no less read than the PilgrimвАЩs Progress itselfвБ†вАФand in the end, prove the very thing which Montaigne dreaded his Essays should turn out, that is, a book for a parlour-window;вБ†вАФI find it necessary to consult every one a little in his turn; and therefore must beg pardon for going on a little farther in the same way: For which cause, right glad I am, that I have begun the history of myself in the way I have done; and that I am able to go on, tracing everything in it, as Horace says, ab Ovo.

Horace, I know, does not recommend this fashion altogether: But that gentleman is speaking only of an epic poem or a tragedy;вБ†вАФ(I forget which),вБ†вАФbesides, if it was not so, I should beg Mr.¬†HoraceвАЩs pardon;вБ†вАФfor in writing what I have set about, I shall confine myself neither to his rules, nor to any manвАЩs rules that ever lived.

To such, however, as do not choose to go so far back into these things, I can give no better advice, than that they skip over the remaining part of this chapter; for I declare beforehand, вАЩtis wrote only for the curious and inquisitive.

Shut the door. I was begot in the night, betwixt the first Sunday and the first Monday in the month of March, in the year of our Lord one thousand seven hundred and eighteen. I am positive I was.вБ†вАФBut how I came to be so very particular in my account of a thing which happened before I was born, is owing to another small anecdote known only in our own family, but now made publick for the better clearing up this point.

My father, you must know, who was originally a Turkey merchant, but had left off business for some years, in order to retire to, and die upon, his paternal estate in the county of вЄї, was, I believe, one of the most regular men in everything he did, whether вАЩtwas matter of business, or matter of amusement, that ever lived. As a small specimen of this extreme exactness of his, to which he was in truth a slave,вБ†вАФhe had made it a rule for many years of his life,вБ†вАФon the first Sunday-night of every month throughout the whole year,вБ†вАФas certain as ever the Sunday-night came,вБ†вЄЇвБ†to wind up a large house-clock, which we had standing on the backstairs head, with his own hands:вБ†вАФAnd being somewhere between fifty and sixty years of age at the time I have been speaking of,вБ†вАФhe had likewise gradually brought some other little family concernments to the same period, in order, as he would often say to my uncle Toby, to get them all out of the way at one time, and be no more plagued and pestered with them the rest of the month.

It was attended but with one misfortune, which, in a great measure, fell upon myself, and the effects of which I fear I shall carry with me to my grave; namely, that from an unhappy association of ideas, which have no connection in nature, it so fell out at length, that my poor mother could never hear the said clock wound up,вБ†вЄЇвБ†but the thoughts of some other things unavoidably popped into her headвБ†вАФand vice versa:вБ†вЄЇвБ†Which strange combination of ideas, the sagacious Locke, who certainly understood the nature of these things better than most men, affirms to have produced more wry actions than all other sources of prejudice whatsoever.

But this by the by.

Now it appears by a memorandum in my fatherвАЩs pocketbook, which now lies upon the table, вАЬThat on Lady-day, which was on the 25th of the same month in which I date my geniture,вБ†вЄЇвБ†my father set out upon his journey to London, with my eldest brother Bobby, to fix him at Westminster school;вАЭ and, as it appears from the same authority, вАЬThat he did not get down to his wife and family till the second week in May following,вАЭвБ†вАФit brings the thing almost to a certainty. However, what follows in the beginning of the next chapter, puts it beyond all possibility of doubt.

вЄїBut pray, Sir, What was your father doing all December, January, and February?вБ†вЄЇвБ†Why, Madam,вБ†вАФhe was all that time afflicted with a Sciatica.

V

On the fifth day of November, 1718, which to the √¶ra fixed on, was as near nine calendar months as any husband could in reason have expected,вБ†вАФwas I Tristram Shandy, Gentleman, brought forth into this scurvy and disasterous world of ours.вБ†вЄЇвБ†I wish I had been born in the Moon, or in any of the planets (except Jupiter or Saturn, because I never could bear cold weather) for it could not well have fared worse with me in any of them (though I will not answer for Venus) than it has in this vile, dirty planet of ours,вБ†вАФwhich, oвАЩ my conscience, with reverence be it spoken, I take to be made up of the shreds and clippings of the rest;вБ†вЄЇвБ†not but the planet is well enough, provided a man could be born in it to a great title or to a great estate; or could anyhow contrive to be called up to publick charges, and employments of dignity or power;вБ†вЄЇвБ†but that is not my case;вБ†вЄЇвБ†and therefore every man will speak of the fair as his own market has gone in it;вБ†вЄїfor which cause I affirm it over again to be one of the vilest worlds that ever was made;вБ†вАФfor I can truly say, that from the first hour I drew my breath in it, to this, that I can now scarce draw it at all, for an asthma I got in scating against the wind in Flanders;вБ†вАФI have been the continual sport of what the world calls Fortune; and though I will not wrong her by saying, She has ever made me feel the weight of any great or signal evil;вБ†вЄЇвБ†yet with all the good temper in the world, I affirm it of her, that in every stage of my life, and at every turn and corner where she could get fairly at me, the ungracious duchess has pelted me with a set of as pitiful misadventures and cross accidents as ever small Hero sustained.

VI

In the beginning of the last chapter, I informed you exactly when I was born; but I did not inform you how. No, that particular was reserved entirely for a chapter by itself;вБ†вАФbesides, Sir, as you and I are in a manner perfect strangers to each other, it would not have been proper to have let you into too many circumstances relating to myself all at once.вБ†вАФYou must have a little patience. I have undertaken, you see, to write not only my life, but my opinions also; hoping and expecting that your knowledge of my character, and of what kind of a mortal I am, by the one, would give you a better relish for the other: As you proceed farther with me, the slight acquaintance, which is now beginning betwixt us, will grow into familiarity; and that, unless one of us is in fault, will terminate in friendship.вБ†вАФO diem praeclarum!вБ†вАФthen nothing which has touched me will be thought trifling in its nature, or tedious in its telling. Therefore, my dear friend and companion, if you should think me somewhat sparing of my narrative on my first setting outвБ†вАФbear with me,вБ†вАФand let me go on, and tell my story my own way:вБ†вАФOr, if I should seem now and then to trifle upon the road,вБ†вАФor should sometimes put on a foolвАЩs cap with a bell to it, for a moment or two as we pass along,вБ†вАФdonвАЩt fly off,вБ†вАФbut rather courteously give me credit for a little more wisdom than appears upon my outside;вБ†вАФand as we jog on, either laugh with me, or at me, or in short, do anything,вБ†вАФonly keep your temper.

VII

In the same village where my father and my mother dwelt, dwelt also a thin, upright, motherly, notable, good old body of a midwife, who with the help of a little plain good sense, and some years full employment in her business, in which she had all along trusted little to her own efforts, and a great deal to those of dame Nature,вБ†вАФhad acquired, in her way, no small degree of reputation in the world:вБ†вЄЇвБ†by which word world, need I in this place inform your worship, that I would be understood to mean no more of it, than a small circle described upon the circle of the great world, of four English miles diameter, or thereabouts, of which the cottage where the good old woman lived, is supposed to be the centre?вБ†вАФShe had been left, it seems, a widow in great distress, with three or four small children, in her forty-seventh year; and as she was at that time a person of decent carriage,вБ†вАФgrave deportment,вБ†вАФa woman moreover of few words, and withal an object of compassion, whose distress, and silence under it, called out the louder for a friendly lift: the wife of the parson of the parish was touched with pity; and having often lamented an inconvenience, to which her husbandвАЩs flock had for many years been exposed, inasmuch as there was no such thing as a midwife, of any kind or degree, to be got at, let the case have been never so urgent, within less than six or seven long miles riding; which seven said long miles in dark nights and dismal roads, the country thereabouts being nothing but a deep clay, was almost equal to fourteen; and that in effect was sometimes next to having no midwife at all; it came into her head, that it would be doing as seasonable a kindness to the whole parish, as to the poor creature herself, to get her a little instructed in some of the plain principles of the business, in order to set her up in it. As no woman thereabouts was better qualified to execute the plan she had formed than herself, the gentlewoman very charitably undertook it; and having great influence over the female part of the parish, she found no difficulty in effecting it to the utmost of her wishes. In truth, the parson joinвАЩd his interest with his wifeвАЩs in the whole affair; and in order to do things as they should be, and give the poor soul as good a title by law to practise, as his wife had given by institution,вБ†вАФhe cheerfully paid the fees for the ordinaryвАЩs licence himself, amounting in the whole, to the sum of eighteen shillings and four pence; so that betwixt them both, the good woman was fully invested in the real and corporal possession of her office, together with all its rights, members, and appurtenances whatsoever.

These last words, you must know, were not according to the old form in which such licences, faculties, and powers usually ran, which in like cases had heretofore been granted to the sisterhood. But it was according to a neat Formula of Didius his own devising, who having a particular turn for taking to pieces, and new framing over again, all kind of instruments in that way, not only hit upon this dainty amendment, but coaxed many of the old licensed matrons in the neighbourhood, to open their faculties afresh, in order to have this wham-wham of his inserted.

I own I never could envy Didius in these kinds of fancies of his:вБ†вАФBut every man to his own taste.вБ†вАФDid not Dr.¬†Kunastrokius, that great man, at his leisure hours, take the greatest delight imaginable in combing of asses tails, and plucking the dead hairs out with his teeth, though he had tweezers always in his pocket? Nay, if you come to that, Sir, have not the wisest of men in all ages, not excepting Solomon himself,вБ†вАФhave they not had their Hobbyhorses;вБ†вАФtheir running horses,вБ†вАФtheir coins and their cockleshells, their drums and their trumpets, their fiddles, their pallets,вБ†вАФtheir maggots and their butterflies?вБ†вАФand so long as a man rides his Hobbyhorse peaceably and quietly along the KingвАЩs highway, and neither compels you or me to get up behind him,вБ†вАФpray, Sir, what have either you or I to do with it?

VIII

вАФDe gustibus non est disputandum;вБ†вАФthat is, there is no disputing against Hobbyhorses; and for my part, I seldom do; nor could I with any sort of grace, had I been an enemy to them at the bottom; for happening, at certain intervals and changes of the moon, to be both fiddler and painter, according as the fly stings:вБ†вАФBe it known to you, that I keep a couple of pads myself, upon which, in their turns, (nor do I care who knows it) I frequently ride out and take the air;вБ†вАФthough sometimes, to my shame be it spoken, I take somewhat longer journies than what a wise man would think altogether right.вБ†вАФBut the truth is,вБ†вАФI am not a wise man;вБ†вАФand besides am a mortal of so little consequence in the world, it is not much matter what I do: so I seldom fret or fume at all about it: Nor does it much disturb my rest, when I see such great Lords and tall Personages as hereafter follow;вБ†вАФsuch, for instance, as my Lord A, B, C, D, E, F, G, H, I, K, L, M, N, O, P, Q, and so on, all of a row, mounted upon their several horses;вБ†вАФsome with large stirrups, getting on in a more grave and sober pace;вБ†вЄЇвБ†others on the contrary, tucked up to their very chins, with whips across their mouths, scouring and scampering it away like so many little particoloured devils astride a mortgage,вБ†вАФand as if some of them were resolved to break their necks.вБ†вЄЇвБ†So much the betterвБ†вАФsay I to myself;вБ†вАФfor in case the worst should happen, the world will make a shift to do excellently well without them; and for the rest,вБ†вЄЇвБ†whyвБ†вЄЇвБ†God speed themвБ†вЄЇвБ†eвАЩen let them ride on without opposition from me; for were their lordships unhorsed this very nightвБ†вАФвАЩtis ten to one but that many of them would be worse mounted by one half before tomorrow morning.

Not one of these instances therefore can be said to break in upon my rest.вБ†вЄЇвБ†But there is an instance, which I own puts me off my guard, and that is, when I see one born for great actions, and what is still more for his honour, whose nature ever inclines him to good ones;вБ†вАФwhen I behold such a one, my Lord, like yourself, whose principles and conduct are as generous and noble as his blood, and whom, for that reason, a corrupt world cannot spare one moment;вБ†вАФwhen I see such a one, my Lord, mounted, though it is but for a minute beyond the time which my love to my country has prescribed to him, and my zeal for his glory wishes,вБ†вАФthen, my Lord, I cease to be a philosopher, and in the first transport of an honest impatience, I wish the Hobbyhorse, with all his fraternity, at the Devil.

вАЬMy Lord,

вАЬI maintain this to be a dedication, notwithstanding its singularity in the three great essentials of matter, form, and place: I beg, therefore, you will accept it as such, and that you will permit me to lay it, with the most respectful humility, at your LordshipвАЩs feet,вБ†вАФwhen you are upon them,вБ†вАФwhich you can be when you please;вБ†вАФand that is, my Lord, whenever there is occasion for it, and I will add, to the best purposes too. I have the honour to be,

IX

I solemnly declare to all mankind, that the above dedication was made for no one Prince, Prelate, Pope, or Potentate,вБ†вАФDuke, Marquis, Earl, Viscount, or Baron, of this, or any other Realm in Christendom;вБ†вЄЇвБ†nor has it yet been hawked about, or offered publicly or privately, directly or indirectly, to any one person or personage, great or small; but is honestly a true Virgin-Dedication untried on, upon any soul living.

I labour this point so particularly, merely to remove any offence or objection which might arise against it from the manner in which I propose to make the most of it;вБ†вАФwhich is the putting it up fairly to public sale; which I now do.

вЄЇвБ†Every author has a way of his own in bringing his points to bear;вБ†вАФfor my own part, as I hate chaffering and higgling for a few guineas in a dark entry;вБ†вАФI resolved within myself, from the very beginning, to deal squarely and openly with your Great Folks in this affair, and try whether I should not come off the better by it.

If therefore there is any one Duke, Marquis, Earl, Viscount, or Baron, in these his MajestyвАЩs dominions, who stands in need of a tight, genteel dedication, and whom the above will suit, (for by the by, unless it suits in some degree, I will not part with it)вБ†вЄЇвБ†it is much at his service for fifty guineas;вБ†вЄЇвБ†which I am positive is twenty guineas less than it ought to be afforded for, by any man of genius.

My Lord, if you examine it over again, it is far from being a gross piece of daubing, as some dedications are. The design, your Lordship sees, is good,вБ†вАФthe colouring transparent,вБ†вАФthe drawing not amiss;вБ†вАФor to speak more like a man of science,вБ†вАФand measure my piece in the painterвАЩs scale, divided into 20,вБ†вАФI believe, my Lord, the outlines will turn out as 12,вБ†вАФthe composition as 9,вБ†вАФthe colouring as 6,вБ†вАФthe expression 13 and a half,вБ†вАФand the design,вБ†вАФif I may be allowed, my Lord, to understand my own design, and supposing absolute perfection in designing, to be as 20,вБ†вАФI think it cannot well fall short of 19. Besides all this,вБ†вАФthere is keeping in it, and the dark strokes in the Hobbyhorse, (which is a secondary figure, and a kind of background to the whole) give great force to the principal lights in your own figure, and make it come off wonderfully;вБ†вЄЇвБ†and besides, there is an air of originality in the tout ensemble.

Be pleased, my good Lord, to order the sum to be paid into the hands of Mr.¬†Dodsley, for the benefit of the author; and in the next edition care shall be taken that this chapter be expunged, and your LordshipвАЩs titles, distinctions, arms, and good actions, be placed at the front of the preceding chapter: All which, from the words, De gustibus non est disputandum, and whatever else in this book relates to Hobbyhorses, but no more, shall stand dedicated to your Lordship.вБ†вАФThe rest I dedicate to the Moon, who, by the by, of all the Patrons or Matrons I can think of, has most power to set my book a-going, and make the world run mad after it.

Bright Goddess,

If thou art not too busy with Candid and Miss CunegundвАЩs affairs,вБ†вАФtake Tristram ShandyвАЩs under thy protection also.

X

Whatever degree of small merit the act of benignity in favour of the midwife might justly claim, or in whom that claim truly rested,вБ†вАФat first sight seems not very material to this history;вБ†вЄЇвБ†certain however it was, that the gentlewoman, the parsonвАЩs wife, did run away at that time with the whole of it: And yet, for my life, I cannot help thinking but that the parson himself, though he had not the good fortune to hit upon the design first,вБ†вАФyet, as he heartily concurred in it the moment it was laid before him, and as heartily parted with his money to carry it into execution, had a claim to some share of it,вБ†вАФif not to a full half of whatever honour was due to it.

The world at that time was pleased to determine the matter otherwise.

Lay down the book, and I will allow you half a day to give a probable guess at the grounds of this procedure.

Be it known then, that, for about five years before the date of the midwifeвАЩs licence, of which you have had so circumstantial an account,вБ†вАФthe parson we have to do with had made himself a country-talk by a breach of all decorum, which he had committed against himself, his station, and his office;вБ†вАФand that was in never appearing better, or otherwise mounted, than upon a lean, sorry, jackass of a horse, value about one pound fifteen shillings; who, to shorten all description of him, was full brother to Rocinante, as far as similitude congenial could make him; for he answered his description to a hair-breadth in everything,вБ†вАФexcept that I do not remember вАЩtis anywhere said, that Rocinante was broken-winded; and that, moreover, Rocinante, as is the happiness of most Spanish horses, fat or lean,вБ†вАФwas undoubtedly a horse at all points.

I know very well that the HeroвАЩs horse was a horse of chaste deportment, which may have given grounds for the contrary opinion: But it is as certain at the same time, that RocinanteвАЩs continency (as may be demonstrated from the adventure of the Yanguesian carriers) proceeded from no bodily defect or cause whatsoever, but from the temperance and orderly current of his blood.вБ†вАФAnd let me tell you, Madam, there is a great deal of very good chastity in the world, in behalf of which you could not say more for your life.

Let that be as it may, as my purpose is to do extra justice to every creature brought upon the stage of this dramatic work,вБ†вАФI could not stifle this distinction in favour of Don QuixoteвАЩs horse;вБ†вЄЇвБ†in all other points, the parsonвАЩs horse, I say, was just such another,вБ†вАФfor he was as lean, and as lank, and as sorry a jade, as Humility herself could have bestrided.

In the estimation of here and there a man of weak judgment, it was greatly in the parsonвАЩs power to have helped the figure of this horse of his,вБ†вАФfor he was master of a very handsome demi-peakвАЩd saddle, quilted on the seat with green plush, garnished with a double row of silver-headed studs, and a noble pair of shining brass stirrups, with a housing altogether suitable, of grey superfine cloth, with an edging of black lace, terminating in a deep, black, silk fringe, poudr√© dвАЩor,вБ†вАФall which he had purchased in the pride and prime of his life, together with a grand embossed bridle, ornamented at all points as it should be.вБ†вЄЇвБ†But not caring to banter his beast, he had hung all these up behind his study door:вБ†вАФand, in lieu of them, had seriously befitted him with just such a bridle and such a saddle, as the figure and value of such a steed might well and truly deserve.

In the several sallies about his parish, and in the neighbouring visits to the gentry who lived around him,вБ†вАФyou will easily comprehend, that the parson, so appointed, would both hear and see enough to keep his philosophy from rusting. To speak the truth, he never could enter a village, but he caught the attention of both old and young.вБ†вЄЇвБ†Labour stood still as he passвАЩdвБ†вЄЇвБ†the bucket hung suspended in the middle of the well,вБ†вЄЇвБ†the spinning-wheel forgot its round,вБ†вЄЇвБ†even chuck-farthing and shuffle-cap themselves stood gaping till he had got out of sight; and as his movement was not of the quickest, he had generally time enough upon his hands to make his observations,вБ†вАФto hear the groans of the serious,вБ†вАФand the laughter of the lighthearted;вБ†вАФall which he bore with excellent tranquillity.вБ†вАФHis character was,вБ†вАФhe loved a jest in his heartвБ†вАФand as he saw himself in the true point of ridicule, he would say he could not be angry with others for seeing him in a light, in which he so strongly saw himself: So that to his friends, who knew his foible was not the love of money, and who therefore made the less scruple in bantering the extravagance of his humour,вБ†вАФinstead of giving the true cause,вБ†вАФhe chose rather to join in the laugh against himself; and as he never carried one single ounce of flesh upon his own bones, being altogether as spare a figure as his beast,вБ†вАФhe would sometimes insist upon it, that the horse was as good as the rider deserved;вБ†вАФthat they were, centaur-like,вБ†вАФboth of a piece. At other times, and in other moods, when his spirits were above the temptation of false wit,вБ†вАФhe would say, he found himself going off fast in a consumption; and, with great gravity, would pretend, he could not bear the sight of a fat horse, without a dejection of heart, and a sensible alteration in his pulse; and that he had made choice of the lean one he rode upon, not only to keep himself in countenance, but in spirits.

At different times he would give fifty humorous and apposite reasons for riding a meek-spirited jade of a broken-winded horse, preferably to one of mettle;вБ†вАФfor on such a one he could sit mechanically, and meditate as delightfully de vanitate mundi et fug√Ґ saeculi, as with the advantage of a deathвАЩs-head before him;вБ†вАФthat, in all other exercitations, he could spend his time, as he rode slowly along,вБ†вАФto as much account as in his study;вБ†вАФthat he could draw up an argument in his sermon,вБ†вАФor a hole in his breeches, as steadily on the one as in the other;вБ†вАФthat brisk trotting and slow argumentation, like wit and judgment, were two incompatible movements.вБ†вАФBut that upon his steedвБ†вАФhe could unite and reconcile everything,вБ†вАФhe could compose his sermonвБ†вАФhe could compose his cough,вБ†вЄЇвБ†and, in case nature gave a call that way, he could likewise compose himself to sleep.вБ†вАФIn short, the parson upon such encounters would assign any cause but the true cause,вБ†вАФand he withheld the true one, only out of a nicety of temper, because he thought it did honour to him.

But the truth of the story was as follows: In the first years of this gentlemanвАЩs life, and about the time when the superb saddle and bridle were purchased by him, it had been his manner, or vanity, or call it what you will,вБ†вАФto run into the opposite extreme.вБ†вАФIn the language of the county where he dwelt, he was said to have loved a good horse, and generally had one of the best in the whole parish standing in his stable always ready for saddling; and as the nearest midwife, as I told you, did not live nearer to the village than seven miles, and in a vile country,вБ†вАФit so fell out that the poor gentleman was scarce a whole week together without some piteous application for his beast; and as he was not an unkind-hearted man, and every case was more pressing and more distressful than the last,вБ†вАФas much as he loved his beast, he had never a heart to refuse him; the upshot of which was generally this, that his horse was either clappвАЩd, or spavinвАЩd, or greazвАЩd;вБ†вАФor he was twitter-bonвАЩd, or broken-winded, or something, in short, or other had befallen him, which would let him carry no flesh;вБ†вАФso that he had every nine or ten months a bad horse to get rid of,вБ†вАФand a good horse to purchase in his stead.

What the loss on such a balance might amount to, communibus annis, I would leave to a special jury of sufferers in the same traffick, to determine;вБ†вАФbut let it be what it would, the honest gentleman bore it for many years without a murmur, till at length, by repeated ill accidents of the kind, he found it necessary to take the thing under consideration; and upon weighing the whole, and summing it up in his mind, he found it not only disproportioned to his other expenses, but withal so heavy an article in itself, as to disable him from any other act of generosity in his parish: Besides this, he considered that with half the sum thus galloped away, he could do ten times as much good;вБ†вАФand what still weighed more with him than all other considerations put together, was this, that it confined all his charity into one particular channel, and where, as he fancied, it was the least wanted, namely, to the childbearing and child-getting part of his parish; reserving nothing for the impotent,вБ†вАФnothing for the aged,вБ†вАФnothing for the many comfortless scenes he was hourly called forth to visit, where poverty, and sickness, and affliction dwelt together.

For these reasons he resolved to discontinue the expense; and there appeared but two possible ways to extricate him clearly out of it;вБ†вАФand these were, either to make it an irrevocable law never more to lend his steed upon any application whatever,вБ†вАФor else be content to ride the last poor devil, such as they had made him, with all his aches and infirmities, to the very end of the chapter.

As he dreaded his own constancy in the firstвБ†вАФhe very cheerfully betook himself to the second; and though he could very well have explained it, as I said, to his honour,вБ†вАФyet, for that very reason, he had a spirit above it; choosing rather to bear the contempt of his enemies, and the laughter of his friends, than undergo the pain of telling a story, which might seem a panegyrick upon himself.

I have the highest idea of the spiritual and refined sentiments of this reverend gentleman, from this single stroke in his character, which I think comes up to any of the honest refinements of the peerless knight of La Mancha, whom, by the by, with all his follies, I love more, and would actually have gone farther to have paid a visit to, than the greatest hero of antiquity.

But this is not the moral of my story: The thing I had in view was to show the temper of the world in the whole of this affair.вБ†вАФFor you must know, that so long as this explanation would have done the parson credit,вБ†вАФthe devil a soul could find it out,вБ†вАФI suppose his enemies would not, and that his friends could not.вБ†вЄЇвБ†But no sooner did he bestir himself in behalf of the midwife, and pay the expenses of the ordinaryвАЩs licence to set her up,вБ†вАФbut the whole secret came out; every horse he had lost, and two horses more than ever he had lost, with all the circumstances of their destruction, were known and distinctly remembered.вБ†вАФThe story ran like wildfireвБ†вАФвАЬThe parson had a returning fit of pride which had just seized him; and he was going to be well mounted once again in his life; and if it was so, вАЩtwas plain as the sun at noonday, he would pocket the expense of the licence, ten times told, the very first year:вБ†вАФSo that everybody was left to judge what were his views in this act of charity.вАЭ

What were his views in this, and in every other action of his life,вБ†вАФor rather what were the opinions which floated in the brains of other people concerning it, was a thought which too much floated in his own, and too often broke in upon his rest, when he should have been sound asleep.

About ten years ago this gentleman had the good fortune to be made entirely easy upon that score,вБ†вАФit being just so long since he left his parish,вБ†вАФand the whole world at the same time behind him,вБ†вАФand stands accountable to a Judge of whom he will have no cause to complain.

But there is a fatality attends the actions of some men: Order them as they will, they pass throвАЩ a certain medium, which so twists and refracts them from their true directionsвБ†вЄЇвБ†that, with all the titles to praise which a rectitude of heart can give, the doers of them are nevertheless forced to live and die without it.

Of the truth of which, this gentleman was a painful example.вБ†вЄЇвБ†But to know by what means this came to pass,вБ†вАФand to make that knowledge of use to you, I insist upon it that you read the two following chapters, which contain such a sketch of his life and conversation, as will carry its moral along with it.вБ†вАФWhen this is done, if nothing stops us in our way, we will go on with the midwife.

XI

Yorick was this parsonвАЩs name, and, what is very remarkable in it (as appears from a most ancient account of the family, wrote upon strong vellum, and now in perfect preservation) it had been exactly so spelt for near,вБ†вЄЇвБ†I was within an ace of saying nine hundred years;вБ†вЄЇвБ†but I would not shake my credit in telling an improbable truth, however indisputable in itself;вБ†вЄЇвБ†and therefore I shall content myself with only sayingвБ†вЄЇвБ†It had been exactly so spelt, without the least variation or transposition of a single letter, for I do not know how long; which is more than I would venture to say of one half of the best surnames in the kingdom; which, in a course of years, have generally undergone as many chops and changes as their owners.вБ†вАФHas this been owing to the pride, or to the shame of the respective proprietors?вБ†вАФIn honest truth, I think sometimes to the one, and sometimes to the other, just as the temptation has wrought. But a villainous affair it is, and will one day so blend and confound us altogether, that no one shall be able to stand up and swear, вАЬThat his own great grandfather was the man who did either this or that.вАЭ

This evil had been sufficiently fenced against by the prudent care of the YorickвАЩs family, and their religious preservation of these records I quote, which do farther inform us, That the family was originally of Danish extraction, and had been transplanted into England as early as in the reign of Horwendillus, king of Denmark, in whose court, it seems, an ancestor of this Mr.¬†YorickвАЩs, and from whom he was lineally descended, held a considerable post to the day of his death. Of what nature this considerable post was, this record saith not;вБ†вАФIt only adds, That, for near two centuries, it had been totally abolished, as altogether unnecessary, not only in that court, but in every other court of the Christian world.

It has often come into my head, that this post could be no other than that of the kingвАЩs chief Jester;вБ†вАФand that HamletвАЩs Yorick, in our Shakespeare, many of whose plays, you know, are founded upon authenticated facts, was certainly the very man.

I have not the time to look into Saxo-GrammaticusвАЩs Danish History, to know the certainty of this;вБ†вАФbut if you have leisure, and can easily get at the book, you may do it full as well yourself.

I had just time, in my travels through Denmark with Mr.¬†NoddyвАЩs eldest son, whom, in the year 1741, I accompanied as governor, riding along with him at a prodigious rate throвАЩ most parts of Europe, and of which original journey performed by us two, a most delectable narrative will be given in the progress of this work; I had just time, I say, and that was all, to prove the truth of an observation made by a long sojourner in that country;вБ†вЄЇвБ†namely, вАЬThat nature was neither very lavish, nor was she very stingy in her gifts of genius and capacity to its inhabitants;вБ†вАФbut, like a discreet parent, was moderately kind to them all; observing such an equal tenor in the distribution of her favours, as to bring them, in those points, pretty near to a level with each other; so that you will meet with few instances in that kingdom of refined parts; but a great deal of good plain household understanding amongst all ranks of people, of which everybody has a share;вАЭ which is, I think, very right.

With us, you see, the case is quite different:вБ†вАФwe are all ups and downs in this matter;вБ†вАФyou are a great genius;вБ†вАФor вАЩtis fifty to one, Sir, you are a great dunce and a blockhead;вБ†вАФnot that there is a total want of intermediate steps,вБ†вАФno,вБ†вАФwe are not so irregular as that comes to;вБ†вАФbut the two extremes are more common, and in a greater degree in this unsettled island, where nature, in her gifts and dispositions of this kind, is most whimsical and capricious; fortune herself not being more so in the bequest of her goods and chattels than she.

This is all that ever staggered my faith in regard to YorickвАЩs extraction, who, by what I can remember of him, and by all the accounts I could ever get of him, seemed not to have had one single drop of Danish blood in his whole crasis; in nine hundred years, it might possibly have all run out:вБ†вЄЇвБ†I will not philosophize one moment with you about it; for happen how it would, the fact was this:вБ†вАФThat instead of that cold phlegm and exact regularity of sense and humours, you would have looked for, in one so extracted;вБ†вАФhe was, on the contrary, as mercurial and sublimated a composition,вБ†вАФas heteroclite a creature in all his declensions;вБ†вАФwith as much life and whim, and gait√© de c≈Уur about him, as the kindliest climate could have engendered and put together. With all this sail, poor Yorick carried not one ounce of ballast; he was utterly unpractised in the world; and, at the age of twenty-six, knew just about as well how to steer his course in it, as a romping, unsuspicious girl of thirteen: So that upon his first setting out, the brisk gale of his spirits, as you will imagine, ran him foul ten times in a day of somebodyвАЩs tackling; and as the grave and more slow-paced were oftenest in his way,вБ†вЄЇвБ†you may likewise imagine, вАЩtwas with such he had generally the ill luck to get the most entangled. For aught I know there might be some mixture of unlucky wit at the bottom of such Fracas:вБ†вЄЇвБ†For, to speak the truth, Yorick had an invincible dislike and opposition in his nature to gravity;вБ†вАФnot to gravity as such;вБ†вАФfor where gravity was wanted, he would be the most grave or serious of mortal men for days and weeks together;вБ†вАФbut he was an enemy to the affectation of it, and declared open war against it, only as it appeared a cloak for ignorance, or for folly: and then, whenever it fell in his way, however sheltered and protected, he seldom gave it much quarter.

Sometimes, in his wild way of talking, he would say that Gravity was an errant scoundrel, and he would add,вБ†вАФof the most dangerous kind too,вБ†вАФbecause a sly one; and that he verily believed, more honest, well-meaning people were bubbled out of their goods and money by it in one twelvemonth, than by pocket-picking and shoplifting in seven. In the naked temper which a merry heart discovered, he would say, there was no danger,вБ†вАФbut to itself:вБ†вАФwhereas the very essence of gravity was design, and consequently deceit;вБ†вАФвАЩtwas a taught trick to gain credit of the world for more sense and knowledge than a man was worth; and that, with all its pretensions,вБ†вАФit was no better, but often worse, than what a French wit had long ago defined it,вБ†вАФviz. A mysterious carriage of the body to cover the defects of the mind;вБ†вАФwhich definition of gravity, Yorick, with great imprudence, would say, deserved to be wrote in letters of gold.

But, in plain truth, he was a man unhackneyed and unpractised in the world, and was altogether as indiscreet and foolish on every other subject of discourse where policy is wont to impress restraint. Yorick had no impression but one, and that was what arose from the nature of the deed spoken of; which impression he would usually translate into plain English without any periphrasis;вБ†вАФand too oft without much distinction of either person, time, or place;вБ†вАФso that when mention was made of a pitiful or an ungenerous proceedingвБ†вЄЇвБ†he never gave himself a momentвАЩs time to reflect who was the hero of the piece,вБ†вЄЇвБ†what his station,вБ†вЄЇвБ†or how far he had power to hurt him hereafter;вБ†вЄЇвБ†but if it was a dirty action,вБ†вАФwithout more ado,вБ†вАФThe man was a dirty fellow,вБ†вАФand so on.вБ†вАФAnd as his comments had usually the ill fate to be terminated either in a bon mot, or to be enlivened throughout with some drollery or humour of expression, it gave wings to YorickвАЩs indiscretion. In a word, though he never sought, yet, at the same time, as he seldom shunned occasions of saying what came uppermost, and without much ceremony;вБ†вЄЇвБ†he had but too many temptations in life, of scattering his wit and his humour,вБ†вАФhis gibes and his jests about him.вБ†вЄЇвБ†They were not lost for want of gathering.

What were the consequences, and what was YorickвАЩs catastrophe thereupon, you will read in the next chapter.

XII

The Mortgager and Mortgag√©e differ the one from the other, not more in length of purse, than the Jester and Jest√©e do, in that of memory. But in this the comparison between them runs, as the scholiasts call it, upon all-four; which, by the by, is upon one or two legs more than some of the best of HomerвАЩs can pretend to;вБ†вАФnamely, That the one raises a sum, and the other a laugh at your expense, and thinks no more about it. Interest, however, still runs on in both cases;вБ†вАФthe periodical or accidental payments of it, just serving to keep the memory of the affair alive; till, at length, in some evil hour,вБ†вАФpop comes the creditor upon each, and by demanding principal upon the spot, together with full interest to the very day, makes them both feel the full extent of their obligations.

As the reader (for I hate your ifs) has a thorough knowledge of human nature, I need not say more to satisfy him, that my Hero could not go on at this rate without some slight experience of these incidental mementos. To speak the truth, he had wantonly involved himself in a multitude of small book-debts of this stamp, which, notwithstanding EugeniusвАЩs frequent advice, he too much disregarded; thinking, that as not one of them was contracted throвАЩ any malignancy;вБ†вАФbut, on the contrary, from an honesty of mind, and a mere jocundity of humour, they would all of them be crossвАЩd out in course.

Eugenius would never admit this; and would often tell him, that one day or other he would certainly be reckoned with; and he would often add, in an accent of sorrowful apprehension,вБ†вАФto the uttermost mite. To which Yorick, with his usual carelessness of heart, would as often answer with a pshaw!вБ†вАФand if the subject was started in the fieldsвБ†вАФwith a hop, skip, and a jump at the end of it; but if close pent up in the social chimney-corner, where the culprit was barricadoвАЩd in, with a table and a couple of armchairs, and could not so readily fly off in a tangent,вБ†вАФEugenius would then go on with his lecture upon discretion in words to this purpose, though somewhat better put together.

Trust me, dear Yorick, this unwary pleasantry of thine will sooner or later bring thee into scrapes and difficulties, which no after-wit can extricate thee out of.вБ†вЄЇвБ†In these sallies, too oft, I see, it happens, that a person laughed at, considers himself in the light of a person injured, with all the rights of such a situation belonging to him; and when thou viewest him in that light too, and reckons up his friends, his family, his kindred and allies,вБ†вЄЇвБ†and musters up with them the many recruits which will list under him from a sense of common danger;вБ†вЄЇвАЩtis no extravagant arithmetick to say, that for every ten jokes,вБ†вАФthou hast got an hundred enemies; and till thou hast gone on, and raised a swarm of wasps about thine ears, and art half stung to death by them, thou wilt never be convinced it is so.

I cannot suspect it in the man whom I esteem, that there is the least spur from spleen or malevolence of intent in these salliesвБ†вЄЇвБ†I believe and know them to be truly honest and sportive:вБ†вАФBut consider, my dear lad, that fools cannot distinguish this,вБ†вАФand that knaves will not: and thou knowest not what it is, either to provoke the one, or to make merry with the other:вБ†вЄЇвБ†whenever they associate for mutual defence, depend upon it, they will carry on the war in such a manner against thee, my dear friend, as to make thee heartily sick of it, and of thy life too.

Revenge from some baneful corner shall level a tale of dishonour at thee, which no innocence of heart or integrity of conduct shall set right.вБ†вЄЇвБ†The fortunes of thy house shall totter,вБ†вАФthy character, which led the way to them, shall bleed on every side of it,вБ†вАФthy faith questioned,вБ†вАФthy works belied,вБ†вАФthy wit forgotten,вБ†вАФthy learning trampled on. To wind up the last scene of thy tragedy, Cruelty and Cowardice, twin ruffians, hired and set on by Malice in the dark, shall strike together at all thy infirmities and mistakes:вБ†вЄЇвБ†The best of us, my dear lad, lie open there,вБ†вЄЇвБ†and trust me,вБ†вЄЇвБ†trust me, Yorick, when to gratify a private appetite, it is once resolved upon, that an innocent and an helpless creature shall be sacrificed, вАЩtis an easy matter to pick up sticks enough from any thicket where it has strayed, to make a fire to offer it up with.

Yorick scarce ever heard this sad vaticination of his destiny read over to him, but with a fear stealing from his eye, and a promissory look attending it, that he was resolved, for the time to come, to ride his tit with more sobriety.вБ†вАФBut, alas, too late!вБ†вАФa grand confederacy, with ***** and ***** at the head of it, was formed before the first prediction of it.вБ†вАФThe whole plan of the attack, just as Eugenius had foreboded, was put in execution all at once,вБ†вАФwith so little mercy on the side of the allies,вБ†вАФand so little suspicion in Yorick, of what was carrying on against him,вБ†вАФthat when he thought, good easy man! full surely preferment was oвАЩ ripening,вБ†вАФthey had smote his root, and then he fell, as many a worthy man had fallen before him.

Yorick, however, fought it out with all imaginable gallantry for some time; till, overpowered by numbers, and worn out at length by the calamities of the war,вБ†вАФbut more so, by the ungenerous manner in which it was carried on,вБ†вАФhe threw down the sword; and though he kept up his spirits in appearance to the last, he died, nevertheless, as was generally thought, quite brokenhearted.

What inclined Eugenius to the same opinion was as follows:

A few hours before Yorick breathed his last, Eugenius stepped in with an intent to take his last sight and last farewell of him. Upon his drawing YorickвАЩs curtain, and asking how he felt himself, Yorick looking up in his face took hold of his hand,вБ†вАФand after thanking him for the many tokens of his friendship to him, for which, he said, if it was their fate to meet hereafter,вБ†вАФhe would thank him again and again,вБ†вАФhe told him, he was within a few hours of giving his enemies the slip forever.вБ†вАФI hope not, answered Eugenius, with tears trickling down his cheeks, and with the tenderest tone that ever man spoke.вБ†вАФI hope not, Yorick, said he.вБ†вЄЇвБ†Yorick replied, with a look up, and a gentle squeeze of EugeniusвАЩs hand, and that was all,вБ†вАФbut it cut Eugenius to his heart,вБ†вАФComeвБ†вАФcome, Yorick, quoth Eugenius, wiping his eyes, and summoning up the man within him,вБ†вАФmy dear lad, be comforted,вБ†вАФlet not all thy spirits and fortitude forsake thee at this crisis when thou most wants them;вБ†вЄЇвБ†who knows what resources are in store, and what the power of God may yet do for thee?вБ†вЄЇвБ†Yorick laid his hand upon his heart, and gently shook his head;вБ†вАФFor my part, continued Eugenius, crying bitterly as he uttered the words,вБ†вАФI declare I know not, Yorick, how to part with thee, and would gladly flatter my hopes, added Eugenius, cheering up his voice, that there is still enough left of thee to make a bishop, and that I may live to see it.вБ†вЄЇвБ†I beseech thee, Eugenius, quoth Yorick, taking off his nightcap as well as he could with his left hand,вБ†вЄЇвБ†his right being still grasped close in that of Eugenius,вБ†вЄЇвБ†I beseech thee to take a view of my head.вБ†вАФI see nothing that ails it, replied Eugenius. Then, alas! my friend, said Yorick, let me tell you, that вАЩtis so bruised and mis-shapened with the blows which ***** and *****, and some others have so unhandsomely given me, in the dark, that I might say with Sancho Pan√Іa, that should I recover, and вАЬMitres thereupon be suffered to rain down from heaven as thick as hail, not one of them would fit it.вАЭвБ†вЄЇвБ†YorickвАЩs last breath was hanging upon his trembling lips ready to depart as he uttered this:вБ†вЄЇвБ†yet still it was uttered with something of a Cervantick tone;вБ†вЄЇвБ†and as he spoke it, Eugenius could perceive a stream of lambent fire lighted up for a moment in his eyes;вБ†вЄЇвБ†faint picture of those flashes of his spirit, which (as¬†Shakespeare said of his ancestor) were wont to set the table in a roar!

Eugenius was convinced from this, that the heart of his friend was broke: he squeezed his hand,вБ†вЄЇвБ†and then walked softly out of the room, weeping as he walked. Yorick followed Eugenius with his eyes to the door,вБ†вАФhe then closed them,вБ†вАФand never opened them more.

He lies buried in the corner of his churchyard, in the parish of вЄї, under a plain marble slab, which his friend Eugenius, by leave of his executors, laid upon his grave, with no more than these three words of inscription, serving both for his epitaph and elegy.

Alas, poor Yorick!

Ten times a day has YorickвАЩs ghost the consolation to hear his monumental inscription read over with such a variety of plaintive tones, as denote a general pity and esteem for him;вБ†вЄЇвБ†a foot-way crossing the churchyard close by the side of his grave,вБ†вАФnot a passenger goes by without stopping to cast a look upon it,вБ†вАФand sighing as he walks on,

Alas, poor Yorick!

XIII

It is so long since the reader of this rhapsodical work has been parted from the midwife, that it is high time to mention her again to him, merely to put him in mind that there is such a body still in the world, and whom, upon the best judgment I can form upon my own plan at present,вБ†вАФI am going to introduce to him for good and all: But as fresh matter may be started, and much unexpected business fall out betwixt the reader and myself, which may require immediate dispatch;вБ†вЄЇвАЩtwas right to take care that the poor woman should not be lost in the meantime;вБ†вАФbecause when she is wanted, we can no way do without her.

I think I told you that this good woman was a person of no small note and consequence throughout our whole village and township;вБ†вАФthat her fame had spread itself to the very out-edge and circumference of that circle of importance, of which kind every soul living, whether he has a shirt to his back or no,вБ†вЄЇвБ†has one surrounding him;вБ†вАФwhich said circle, by the way, whenever вАЩtis said that such a one is of great weight and importance in the world,вБ†вЄЇвБ†I desire may be enlarged or contracted in your worshipвАЩs fancy, in a compound ratio of the station, profession, knowledge, abilities, height and depth (measuring both ways) of the personage brought before you.

In the present case, if I remember, I fixed it about four or five miles, which not only comprehended the whole parish, but extended itself to two or three of the adjacent hamlets in the skirts of the next parish; which made a considerable thing of it. I must add, That she was, moreover, very well looked on at one large grange-house, and some other odd houses and farms within two or three miles, as I said, from the smoke of her own chimney:вБ†вЄЇвБ†But I must here, once for all, inform you, that all this will be more exactly delineated and explainвАЩd in a map, now in the hands of the engraver, which, with many other pieces and developements of this work, will be added to the end of the twentieth volume,вБ†вАФnot to swell the work,вБ†вАФI detest the thought of such a thing;вБ†вАФbut by way of commentary, scholium, illustration, and key to such passages, incidents, or innuendos as shall be thought to be either of private interpretation, or of dark or doubtful meaning, after my life and my opinions shall have been read over (now donвАЩt forget the meaning of the word) by all the world;вБ†вЄЇвБ†which, betwixt you and me, and in spite of all the gentlemen-reviewers in Great Britain, and of all that their worships shall undertake to write or say to the contrary,вБ†вАФI am determined shall be the case.вБ†вАФI need not tell your worship, that all this is spoke in confidence.

XIV

Upon looking into my motherвАЩs marriage-settlement, in order to satisfy myself and reader in a point necessary to be cleared up, before we could proceed any farther in this history;вБ†вАФI had the good fortune to pop upon the very thing I wanted before I had read a day and a half straight forwards,вБ†вАФit might have taken me up a month;вБ†вАФwhich shows plainly, that when a man sits down to write a history,вБ†вАФthough it be but the history of Jack Hickathrift or Tom Thumb, he knows no more than his heels what lets and confounded hindrances he is to meet with in his way,вБ†вАФor what a dance he may be led, by one excursion or another, before all is over. Could a historiographer drive on his history, as a muleteer drives on his mule,вБ†вАФstraight forward;вБ†вЄЇвБ†for instance, from Rome all the way to Loretto, without ever once turning his head aside either to the right hand or to the left,вБ†вЄЇвБ†he might venture to foretell you to an hour when he should get to his journeyвАЩs end;вБ†вЄЇвБ†but the thing is, morally speaking, impossible: For, if he is a man of the least spirit, he will have fifty deviations from a straight line to make with this or that party as he goes along, which he can no ways avoid. He will have views and prospects to himself perpetually soliciting his eye, which he can no more help standing still to look at than he can fly; he will moreover have various

Accounts to reconcile:

Anecdotes to pick up:

Inscriptions to make out:

Stories to weave in:

Traditions to sift:

Personages to call upon:

Panegyricks to paste up at this door;

Pasquinades at that:вБ†вЄЇвБ†All which both the man and his mule are quite exempt from. To sum up all; there are archives at every stage to be lookвАЩd into, and rolls, records, documents, and endless genealogies, which justice ever and anon calls him back to stay the reading of:вБ†вЄЇвБ†In short, there is no end of it;вБ†вЄЇвБ†for my own part, I declare I had been at it these six weeks, making all the speed I possibly could,вБ†вАФand am not yet born:вБ†вАФI have just been able, and thatвАЩs all, to tell you when it happenвАЩd, but not how;вБ†вАФso that you see the thing is yet far from being accomplished.

These unforeseen stoppages, which I own I had no conception of when I first set out;вБ†вАФbut which, I am convinced now, will rather increase than diminish as I advance,вБ†вАФhave struck out a hint which I am resolved to follow;вБ†вЄЇвБ†and that is,вБ†вАФnot to be in a hurry; but to go on leisurely, writing and publishing two volumes of my life every year;вБ†вЄЇвБ†which, if I am suffered to go on quietly, and can make a tolerable bargain with my bookseller, I shall continue to do as long as I live.

XV

The article in my motherвАЩs marriage-settlement, which I told the reader I was at the pains to search for, and which, now that I have found it, I think proper to lay before him,вБ†вАФis so much more fully expressвАЩd in the deed itself, than ever I can pretend to do it, that it would be barbarity to take it out of the lawyerвАЩs hand:вБ†вАФIt is as follows.

вАЬAnd this Indenture further witnesseth, That the said Walter Shandy, merchant, in consideration of the said intended marriage to be had, and, by GodвАЩs blessing, to be well and truly solemnised and consummated between the said Walter Shandy and Elizabeth Mollineux aforesaid, and divers other good and valuable causes and considerations him thereunto specially moving,вБ†вАФdoth grant, covenant, condescend, consent, conclude, bargain, and fully agree to and with John Dixon, and James Turner, Esqrs. the above-named Trustees, etc. etc.вБ†вАФto Wit,вБ†вАФThat in case it should hereafter so fall out, chance, happen, or otherwise come to pass,вБ†вАФThat the said Walter Shandy, merchant, shall have left off business before the time or times, that the said Elizabeth Mollineux shall, according to the course of nature, or otherwise, have left off bearing and bringing forth children;вБ†вАФand that, in consequence of the said Walter Shandy having so left off business, he shall in despight, and against the free-will, consent, and good-liking of the said Elizabeth Mollineux,вБ†вАФmake a departure from the city of London, in order to retire to, and dwell upon, his estate at Shandy Hall, in the county of вЄї, or at any other country-seat, castle, hall, mansion-house, messuage or grainge-house, now purchased, or hereafter to be purchased, or upon any part or parcel thereof:вБ†вАФThat then, and as often as the said Elizabeth Mollineux shall happen to be enceint with child or children severally and lawfully begot, or to be begotten, upon the body of the said Elizabeth Mollineux, during her said coverture,вБ†вАФhe the said Walter Shandy shall, at his own proper cost and charges, and out of his own proper monies, upon good and reasonable notice, which is hereby agreed to be within six weeks of her the said Elizabeth MollineuxвАЩs full reckoning, or time of supposed and computed delivery,вБ†вАФpay, or cause to be paid, the sum of one hundred and twenty pounds of good and lawful money, to John Dixon, and James Turner, Esqrs. or assigns,вБ†вАФupon trust and confidence, and for and unto the use and uses, intent, end, and purpose following:вБ†вАФThat is to say,вБ†вАФThat the said sum of one hundred and twenty pounds shall be paid into the hands of the said Elizabeth Mollineux, or to be otherwise applied by them the said Trustees, for the well and truly hiring of one coach, with able and sufficient horses, to carry and convey the body of the said Elizabeth Mollineux, and the child or children which she shall be then and there enceint and pregnant with,вБ†вАФunto the city of London; and for the further paying and defraying of all other incidental costs, charges, and expenses whatsoever,вБ†вАФin and about, and for, and relating to, her said intended delivery and lying-in, in the said city or suburbs thereof. And that the said Elizabeth Mollineux shall and may, from time to time, and at all such time and times as are here covenanted and agreed upon,вБ†вАФpeaceably and quietly hire the said coach and horses, and have free ingress, egress, and regress throughout her journey, in and from the said coach, according to the tenor, true intent, and meaning of these presents, without any let, suit, trouble, disturbance, molestation, discharge, hindrance, forfeiture, eviction, vexation, interruption, or incumbrance whatsoever.вБ†вАФAnd that it shall moreover be lawful to and for the said Elizabeth Mollineux, from time to time, and as oft or often as she shall well and truly be advanced in her said pregnancy, to the time heretofore stipulated and agreed upon,вБ†вАФto live and reside in such place or places, and in such family or families, and with such relations, friends, and other persons within the said city of London, as she at her own will and pleasure, notwithstanding her present coverture, and as if she was a femme sole and unmarried,вБ†вАФshall think fit.вБ†вАФAnd this Indenture further Witnesseth, That for the more effectually carrying of the said covenant into execution, the said Walter Shandy, merchant, doth hereby grant, bargain, sell, release, and confirm unto the said John Dixon, and James Turner, Esqrs. their heirs, executors, and assigns, in their actual possession now being, by virtue of an indenture of bargain and sale for a year to them the said John Dickson, and James Turner, Esqrs. by him the said Walter Shandy, merchant, thereof made; which said bargain and sale for a year, bears date the day next before the date of these presents, and by force and virtue of the statute for transferring of uses into possession,вБ†вАФAll that the manor and lordship of Shandy, in the county of вЄї, with all the rights, members, and appurtenances thereof; and all and every the messuages, houses, buildings, barns, stables, orchards, gardens, backsides, tofts, crofts, garths, cottages, lands, meadows, feedings, pastures, marshes, commons, woods, underwoods, drains, fisheries, waters, and watercourses;вБ†вАФtogether with all rents, reversions, services, annuities, fee-farms, knights fees, views of frankpledge, escheats, reliefs, mines, quarries, goods and chattels of felons and fugitives, felons of themselves, and put in exigent, deodands, free warrens, and all other royalties and seigniories, rights and jurisdictions, privileges and hereditaments whatsoever.вБ†вЄЇвБ†And also the advowson, donation, presentation, and free disposition of the rectory or parsonage of Shandy aforesaid, and all and every the tenths, tythes, glebe-lands.вАЭвБ†вЄЇвБ†In three words,вБ†вЄЇвАЬMy mother was to lay in, (if she chose it) in London.вАЭ

But in order to put a stop to the practice of any unfair play on the part of my mother, which a marriage-article of this nature too manifestly opened a door to, and which indeed had never been thought of at all, but for my uncle Toby Shandy;вБ†вАФa clause was added in security of my father, which was this:вБ†вАФвАЬThat in case my mother hereafter should, at any time, put my father to the trouble and expense of a London journey, upon false cries and tokens;вБ†вЄЇвБ†that for every such instance, she should forfeit all the right and title which the covenant gave her to the next turn;вБ†вЄЇвБ†but to no more,вБ†вАФand so on, toties quoties, in as effectual a manner, as if such a covenant betwixt them had not been made.вАЭвБ†вАФThis, by the way, was no more than what was reasonable;вБ†вАФand yet, as reasonable as it was, I have ever thought it hard that the whole weight of the article should have fallen entirely, as it did, upon myself.

But I was begot and born to misfortunes:вБ†вАФfor my poor mother, whether it was wind or waterвБ†вАФor a compound of both,вБ†вАФor neither;вБ†вАФor whether it was simply the mere swell of imagination and fancy in her;вБ†вАФor how far a strong wish and desire to have it so, might mislead her judgment:вБ†вАФin short, whether she was deceived or deceiving in this matter, it no way becomes me to decide. The fact was this, That in the latter end of September 1717, which was the year before I was born, my mother having carried my father up to town much against the grain,вБ†вАФhe peremptorily insisted upon the clause;вБ†вАФso that I was doomвАЩd, by marriage-articles, to have my nose squeezвАЩd as flat to my face, as if the destinies had actually spun me without one.

How this event came about,вБ†вАФand what a train of vexatious disappointments, in one stage or other of my life, have pursued me from the mere loss, or rather compression, of this one single member,вБ†вАФshall be laid before the reader all in due time.

XVI

My father, as anybody may naturally imagine, came down with my mother into the country, in but a pettish kind of a humour. The first twenty or five-and-twenty miles he did nothing in the world but fret and tease himself, and indeed my mother too, about the cursed expense, which he said might every shilling of it have been saved;вБ†вАФthen what vexed him more than everything else was, the provoking time of the year,вБ†вАФwhich, as I told you, was towards the end of September, when his wall-fruit and green gages especially, in which he was very curious, were just ready for pulling:вБ†вЄЇвАЬHad he been whistled up to London, upon a Tom FoolвАЩs errand, in any other month of the whole year, he should not have said three words about it.вАЭ

For the next two whole stages, no subject would go down, but the heavy blow he had sustainвАЩd from the loss of a son, whom it seems he had fully reckonвАЩd upon in his mind, and registerвАЩd down in his pocketbook, as a second staff for his old age, in case Bobby should fail him. The disappointment of this, he said, was ten times more to a wise man, than all the money which the journey, etc., had cost him, put together,вБ†вАФrot the hundred and twenty pounds,вБ†вЄЇвБ†he did not mind it a rush.

From Stilton, all the way to Grantham, nothing in the whole affair provoked him so much as the condolences of his friends, and the foolish figure they should both make at church, the first Sunday;вБ†вЄЇвБ†of which, in the satirical vehemence of his wit, now sharpenвАЩd a little by vexation, he would give so many humorous and provoking descriptions,вБ†вАФand place his rib and self in so many tormenting lights and attitudes in the face of the whole congregation;вБ†вАФthat my mother declared, these two stages were so truly tragicomical, that she did nothing but laugh and cry in a breath, from one end to the other of them all the way.

From Grantham, till they had crossвАЩd the Trent, my father was out of all kind of patience at the vile trick and imposition which he fancied my mother had put upon him in this affairвБ†вАФвАЬCertainly,вАЭ he would say to himself, over and over again, вАЬthe woman could not be deceived herselfвБ†вЄЇвБ†if she could,вБ†вЄЇвБ†what weakness!вАЭвБ†вАФtormenting word!вБ†вАФwhich led his imagination a thorny dance, and, before all was over, playвАЩd the duce and all with him;вБ†вЄЇвБ†for sure as ever the word weakness was uttered, and struck full upon his brainвБ†вАФso sure it set him upon running divisions upon how many kinds of weaknesses there were;вБ†вЄЇвБ†that there was such a thing as weakness of the body,вБ†вЄЇвБ†as well as weakness of the mind,вБ†вАФand then he would do nothing but syllogize within himself for a stage or two together, How far the cause of all these vexations might, or might not, have arisen out of himself.

In short, he had so many little subjects of disquietude springing out of this one affair, all fretting successively in his mind as they rose up in it, that my mother, whatever was her journey up, had but an uneasy journey of it down.вБ†вЄЇвБ†In a word, as she complained to my uncle Toby, he would have tired out the patience of any flesh alive.

XVII

Though my father travelled homewards, as I told you, in none of the best of moods,вБ†вАФpshawing and pishing all the way down,вБ†вАФyet he had the complaisance to keep the worst part of the story still to himself;вБ†вАФwhich was the resolution he had taken of doing himself the justice, which my uncle TobyвАЩs clause in the marriage-settlement empowered him; nor was it till the very night in which I was begot, which was thirteen months after, that she had the least intimation of his design: when my father, happening, as you remember, to be a little chagrinвАЩd and out of temper,вБ†вЄЇвБ†took occasion as they lay chatting gravely in bed afterwards, talking over what was to come,вБ†вЄЇвБ†to let her know that she must accommodate herself as well as she could to the bargain made between them in their marriage-deeds; which was to lye-in of her next child in the country, to balance the last yearвАЩs journey.

My father was a gentleman of many virtues,вБ†вАФbut he had a strong spice of that in his temper, which might, or might not, add to the number.вБ†вАФвАЩTis known by the name of perseverance in a good cause,вБ†вАФand of obstinacy in a bad one: Of this my mother had so much knowledge, that she knew вАЩtwas to no purpose to make any remonstrance,вБ†вАФso she eвАЩen resolved to sit down quietly, and make the most of it.

XVIII

As the point was that night agreed, or rather determined, that my mother should lye-in of me in the country, she took her measures accordingly; for which purpose, when she was three days, or thereabouts, gone with child, she began to cast her eyes upon the midwife, whom you have so often heard me mention; and before the week was well got round, as the famous Dr.¬†Manningham was not to be had, she had come to a final determination in her mind,вБ†вЄЇвБ†notwithstanding there was a scientific operator within so near a call as eight miles of us, and who, moreover, had expressly wrote a five shillings book upon the subject of midwifery, in which he had exposed, not only the blunders of the sisterhood itself,вБ†вЄЇвБ†but had likewise superadded many curious improvements for the quicker extraction of the f≈Уtus in cross births, and some other cases of danger, which belay us in getting into the world; notwithstanding all this, my mother, I say, was absolutely determined to trust her life, and mine with it, into no soulвАЩs hand but this old womanвАЩs only.вБ†вАФNow this I like;вБ†вАФwhen we cannot get at the very thing we wishвБ†вЄЇвБ†never to take up with the next best in degree to it:вБ†вАФno; thatвАЩs pitiful beyond description;вБ†вАФit is no more than a week from this very day, in which I am now writing this book for the edification of the world;вБ†вАФwhich is March 9, 1759,вБ†вЄЇвБ†that my dear, dear Jenny, observing I looked a little grave, as she stood cheapening a silk of five-and-twenty shillings a yard,вБ†вАФtold the mercer, she was sorry she had given him so much trouble;вБ†вАФand immediately went and bought herself a yard-wide stuff of tenpence a yard.вБ†вАФвАЩTis the duplication of one and the same greatness of soul; only what lessened the honour of it, somewhat, in my motherвАЩs case, was, that she could not heroine it into so violent and hazardous an extreme, as one in her situation might have wished, because the old widwife had really some little claim to be depended upon,вБ†вАФas much, at least, as success could give her; having, in the course of her practice of near twenty years in the parish, brought every motherвАЩs son of them into the world without any one slip or accident which could fairly be laid to her account.

These facts, though they had their weight, yet did not altogether satisfy some few scruples and uneasinesses which hung upon my fatherвАЩs spirits in relation to this choice.вБ†вАФTo say nothing of the natural workings of humanity and justiceвБ†вАФor of the yearnings of parental and connubial love, all which prompted him to leave as little to hazard as possible in a case of this kind;вБ†вЄЇвБ†he felt himself concerned in a particular manner, that all should go right in the present case;вБ†вАФfrom the accumulated sorrow he lay open to, should any evil betide his wife and child in lying-in at Shandy-Hall.вБ†вЄЇвБ†He knew the world judged by events, and would add to his afflictions in such a misfortune, by loading him with the whole blame of it.вБ†вЄЇвАЬAlas, oвАЩday;вБ†вАФhad Mrs.¬†Shandy, poor gentlewoman! had but her wish in going up to town just to lye-in and come down again;вБ†вАФwhich, they say, she begged and prayed for upon her bare knees,вБ†вЄЇвБ†and which, in my opinion, considering the fortune which Mr.¬†Shandy got with her,вБ†вАФwas no such mighty matter to have complied with, the lady and her babe might both of them have been alive at this hour.вАЭ

This exclamation, my father knew, was unanswerable;вБ†вАФand yet, it was not merely to shelter himself,вБ†вАФnor was it altogether for the care of his offspring and wife that he seemed so extremely anxious about this point;вБ†вАФmy father had extensive views of things,вБ†вЄЇвБ†and stood moreover, as he thought, deeply concerned in it for the publick good, from the dread he entertained of the bad uses an ill-fated instance might be put to.

He was very sensible that all political writers upon the subject had unanimously agreed and lamented, from the beginning of Queen ElizabethвАЩs reign down to his own time, that the current of men and money towards the metropolis, upon one frivolous errand or another,вБ†вАФset in so strong,вБ†вАФas to become dangerous to our civil rights,вБ†вАФthough, by the by,вБ†вЄЇвБ†a¬†current was not the image he took most delight in,вБ†вАФa¬†distemper was here his favourite metaphor, and he would run it down into a perfect allegory, by maintaining it was identically the same in the body national as in the body natural where the blood and spirits were driven up into the head faster than they could find their ways down;вБ†вЄЇвБ†a stoppage of circulation must ensue, which was death in both cases.

There was little danger, he would say, of losing our liberties by French politicks or French invasions;вБ†вЄЇвБ†nor was he so much in pain of a consumption from the mass of corrupted matter and ulcerated humours in our constitution, which he hoped was not so bad as it was imagined;вБ†вАФbut he verily feared, that in some violent push, we should go off, all at once, in a state-apoplexy;вБ†вАФand then he would say, The Lord have mercy upon us all.

My father was never able to give the history of this distemper,вБ†вАФwithout the remedy along with it.

вАЬWas I an absolute prince,вАЭ he would say, pulling up his breeches with both his hands, as he rose from his armchair, вАЬI would appoint able judges, at every avenue of my metropolis, who should take cognizance of every foolвАЩs business who came there;вБ†вАФand if, upon a fair and candid hearing, it appeared not of weight sufficient to leave his own home, and come up, bag and baggage, with his wife and children, farmerвАЩs sons, etc., etc., at his backside, they should be all sent back, from constable to constable, like vagrants as they were, to the place of their legal settlements. By this means I shall take care, that my metropolis totterвАЩd not throвАЩ its own weight;вБ†вАФthat the head be no longer too big for the body;вБ†вАФthat the extremes, now wasted and pinnвАЩd in, be restored to their due share of nourishment, and regain with it their natural strength and beauty:вБ†вАФI would effectually provide, That the meadows and cornfields of my dominions, should laugh and sing;вБ†вАФthat good cheer and hospitality flourish once more;вБ†вАФand that such weight and influence be put thereby into the hands of the Squirality of my kingdom, as should counterpoise what I perceive my Nobility are now taking from them.

вАЬWhy are there so few palaces and gentlemenвАЩs seats,вАЭ he would ask, with some emotion, as he walked across the room, вАЬthroughout so many delicious provinces in France? Whence is it that the few remaining Ch√Ґteaus amongst them are so dismantled,вБ†вАФso unfurnished, and in so ruinous and desolate a condition?вБ†вЄЇвБ†Because, Sir,вАЭ (he would say) вАЬin that kingdom no man has any country-interest to support;вБ†вАФthe little interest of any kind which any man has anywhere in it, is concentrated in the court, and the looks of the Grand Monarch: by the sunshine of whose countenance, or the clouds which pass across it, every French man lives or dies.вАЭ

Another political reason which prompted my father so strongly to guard against the least evil accident in my motherвАЩs lying-in in the country,вБ†вЄЇвБ†was, That any such instance would infallibly throw a balance of power, too great already, into the weaker vessels of the gentry, in his own, or higher stations;вБ†вЄЇвБ†which, with the many other usurped rights which that part of the constitution was hourly establishing,вБ†вАФwould, in the end, prove fatal to the monarchical system of domestick government established in the first creation of things by God.

In this point he was entirely of Sir Robert FilmerвАЩs opinion, That the plans and institutions of the greatest monarchies in the eastern parts of the world were, originally, all stolen from that admirable pattern and prototype of this household and paternal power;вБ†вАФwhich, for a century, he said, and more, had gradually been degenerating away into a mixвАЩd government;вБ†вЄЇвБ†the form of which, however desirable in great combinations of the species,вБ†вЄЇвБ†was very troublesome in small ones,вБ†вАФand seldom produced anything, that he saw, but sorrow and confusion.

For all these reasons, private and publick, put together,вБ†вАФmy father was for having the man-midwife by all means,вБ†вАФmy mother by no means. My father beggвАЩd and intreated she would for once recede from her prerogative in this matter, and suffer him to choose for her;вБ†вАФmy mother, on the contrary, insisted upon her privilege in this matter, to choose for herself,вБ†вАФand have no mortalвАЩs help but the old womanвАЩs.вБ†вАФWhat could my father do? He was almost at his witвАЩs end;вБ†вЄЇвБ†talked it over with her in all moods;вБ†вАФplaced his arguments in all lights;вБ†вАФargued the matter with her like a christian,вБ†вАФlike a heathen,вБ†вАФlike a husband,вБ†вАФlike a father,вБ†вАФlike a patriot,вБ†вАФlike a man:вБ†вАФMy mother answered everything only like a woman; which was a little hard upon her;вБ†вАФfor as she could not assume and fight it out behind such a variety of characters,вБ†вАФвАЩtwas no fair match:вБ†вАФвАЩtwas seven to one.вБ†вАФWhat could my mother do?вБ†вЄЇвБ†She had the advantage (otherwise she had been certainly overpowered) of a small reinforcement of chagrin personal at the bottom, which bore her up, and enabled her to dispute the affair with my father with so equal an advantage,вБ†вЄЇвБ†that both sides sung Te Deum. In a word, my mother was to have the old woman,вБ†вАФand the operator was to have licence to drink a bottle of wine with my father and my uncle Toby Shandy in the back parlour,вБ†вАФfor which he was to be paid five guineas.

I must beg leave, before I finish this chapter, to enter a caveat in the breast of my fair reader;вБ†вАФand it is this,вБ†вЄЇвБ†Not to take it absolutely for granted, from an unguarded word or two which I have droppвАЩd in it,вБ†вЄЇвАЬThat I am a married man.вАЭвБ†вАФI own, the tender appellation of my dear, dear Jenny,вБ†вАФwith some other strokes of conjugal knowledge, interspersed here and there, might, naturally enough, have misled the most candid judge in the world into such a determination against me.вБ†вАФAll I plead for, in this case, Madam, is strict justice, and that you do so much of it, to me as well as to yourself,вБ†вАФas not to prejudge, or receive such an impression of me, till you have better evidence, than, I am positive, at present can be produced against me.вБ†вАФNot that I can be so vain or unreasonable, Madam, as to desire you should therefore think, that my dear, dear Jenny is my kept mistress;вБ†вАФno,вБ†вАФthat would be flattering my character in the other extreme, and giving it an air of freedom, which, perhaps, it has no kind of right to. All I contend for, is the utter impossibility, for some volumes, that you, or the most penetrating spirit upon earth, should know how this matter really stands.вБ†вАФIt is not impossible, but that my dear, dear Jenny! tender as the appellation is, may be my child.вБ†вЄЇвБ†Consider,вБ†вАФI was born in the year eighteen.вБ†вАФNor is there anything unnatural or extravagant in the supposition, that my dear Jenny may be my friend.вБ†вАФFriend!вБ†вАФMy friend.вБ†вАФSurely, Madam, a friendship between the two sexes may subsist, and be supported withoutвБ†вЄїFy! Mr.¬†Shandy:вБ†вАФWithout anything, Madam, but that tender and delicious sentiment, which ever mixes in friendship, where there is a difference of sex. Let me intreat you to study the pure and sentimental parts of the best French Romances;вБ†вАФit will really, Madam, astonish you to see with what a variety of chaste expressions this delicious sentiment, which I have the honour to speak of, is dressвАЩd out.

XIX

I would sooner undertake to explain the hardest problem in geometry, than pretend to account for it, that a gentleman of my fatherвАЩs great good sense,вБ†вЄЇвБ†knowing, as the reader must have observed him, and curious too in philosophy,вБ†вАФwise also in political reasoning,вБ†вАФand in polemical (as he will find) no way ignorant,вБ†вАФcould be capable of entertaining a notion in his head, so out of the common track,вБ†вАФthat I fear the reader, when I come to mention it to him, if he is the least of a cholerick temper, will immediately throw the book by; if mercurial, he will laugh most heartily at it;вБ†вАФand if he is of a grave and saturnine cast, he will, at first sight, absolutely condemn as fanciful and extravagant; and that was in respect to the choice and imposition of christian names, on which he thought a great deal more depended than what superficial minds were capable of conceiving.

His opinion, in this matter, was, That there was a strange kind of magick bias, which good or bad names, as he called them, irresistibly impressed upon our characters and conduct.

The hero of Cervantes argued not the point with more seriousness,вБ†вЄЇвБ†nor had he more faith,вБ†вЄЇвБ†or more to say on the powers of necromancy in dishonouring his deeds,вБ†вАФor on DulcineaвАЩs name, in shedding lustre upon them, than my father had on those of Trismegistus or Archimedes, on the one handвБ†вАФor of Nyky and Simkin on the other. How many Caesars and Pompeys, he would say, by mere inspiration of the names, have been rendered worthy of them? And how many, he would add, are there, who might have done exceeding well in the world, had not their characters and spirits been totally depressed and NicodemusвАЩd into nothing?

I see plainly, Sir, by your looks (or as the case happened), my father would sayвБ†вАФthat you do not heartily subscribe to this opinion of mine,вБ†вАФwhich, to those, he would add, who have not carefully sifted it to the bottom,вБ†вАФI own has an air more of fancy than of solid reasoning in it;вБ†вЄЇвБ†and yet, my dear Sir, if I may presume to know your character, I am morally assured, I should hazard little in stating a case to you,вБ†вАФnot as a party in the dispute,вБ†вАФbut as a judge, and trusting my appeal upon it to your own good sense and candid disquisition in this matter;вБ†вЄЇвБ†you are a person free from as many narrow prejudices of education as most men;вБ†вАФand, if I may presume to penetrate farther into you,вБ†вАФof a liberality of genius above bearing down an opinion, merely because it wants friends. Your son,вБ†вАФyour dear son,вБ†вАФfrom whose sweet and open temper you have so much to expect.вБ†вАФYour Billy, Sir!вБ†вАФwould you, for the world, have called him Judas?вБ†вАФWould you, my dear Sir, he would say, laying his hand upon your breast, with the genteelest address,вБ†вАФand in that soft and irresistible piano of voice, which the nature of the argumentum ad hominem absolutely requires,вБ†вАФWould you, Sir, if a Jew of a godfather had proposed the name for your child, and offered you his purse along with it, would you have consented to such a desecration of him?вБ†вЄЇвБ†O my God! he would say, looking up, if I know your temper right, Sir,вБ†вАФyou are incapable of it;вБ†вЄЇвБ†you would have trampled upon the offer;вБ†вАФyou would have thrown the temptation at the tempterвАЩs head with abhorrence.

Your greatness of mind in this action, which I admire, with that generous contempt of money, which you show me in the whole transaction, is really noble;вБ†вАФand what renders it more so, is the principle of it;вБ†вАФthe workings of a parentвАЩs love upon the truth and conviction of this very hypothesis, namely, That was your son called Judas,вБ†вАФthe sordid and treacherous idea, so inseparable from the name, would have accompanied him through life like his shadow, and, in the end, made a miser and a rascal of him, in spite, Sir, of your example.

I never knew a man able to answer this argument.вБ†вЄЇвБ†But, indeed, to speak of my father as he was;вБ†вАФhe was certainly irresistible;вБ†вАФboth in his orations and disputations;вБ†вАФhe was born an orator;вБ†вАФќШќµќњќіќѓќіќ±ќЇѕДќњѕВ.вБ†вАФPersuasion hung upon his lips, and the elements of Logick and Rhetorick were so blended up in him,вБ†вАФand, withal, he had so shrewd a guess at the weaknesses and passions of his respondent,вБ†вЄЇвБ†that Nature might have stood up and said,вБ†вАФвАЬThis man is eloquent.вАЭвБ†вАФIn short, whether he was on the weak or the strong side of the question, вАЩtwas hazardous in either case to attack him.вБ†вАФAnd yet, вАЩtis strange, he had never read Cicero, nor Quintilian de Oratore, nor Isocrates, nor Aristotle, nor Longinus amongst the ancients;вБ†вАФnor Vossius, nor Skioppius, nor Ramus, nor Farnaby amongst the moderns;вБ†вАФand what is more astonishing, he had never in his whole life the least light or spark of subtlety struck into his mind, by one single lecture upon Crackenthorp or Burgersdicius, or any Dutch logician or commentator;вБ†вАФhe knew not so much as in what the difference of an argument ad ignorantiam, and an argument ad hominem consisted; so that I well remember, when he went up along with me to enter my name at Jesus College in ****,вБ†вАФit was a matter of just wonder with my worthy tutor, and two or three fellows of that learned society,вБ†вАФthat a man who knew not so much as the names of his tools, should be able to work after that fashion with them.

To work with them in the best manner he could, was what my father was, however, perpetually forced upon;вБ†вЄЇвБ†for he had a thousand little sceptical notions of the comick kind to defendвБ†вЄЇвБ†most of which notions, I verily believe, at first entered upon the footing of mere whims, and of a vive la Bagatelle; and as such he would make merry with them for half an hour or so, and having sharpened his wit upon them, dismiss them till another day.

I mention this, not only as matter of hypothesis or conjecture upon the progress and establishment of my fatherвАЩs many odd opinions,вБ†вАФbut as a warning to the learned reader against the indiscreet reception of such guests, who, after a free and undisturbed entrance, for some years, into our brains,вБ†вАФat length claim a kind of settlement there,вБ†вЄЇвБ†working sometimes like yeast;вБ†вАФbut more generally after the manner of the gentle passion, beginning in jest,вБ†вАФbut ending in downright earnest.

Whether this was the case of the singularity of my fatherвАЩs notionsвБ†вАФor that his judgment, at length, became the dupe of his wit;вБ†вАФor how far, in many of his notions, he might, though odd, be absolutely right;вБ†вЄЇвБ†the reader, as he comes at them, shall decide. All that I maintain here, is, that in this one, of the influence of christian names, however it gained footing, he was serious;вБ†вАФhe was all uniformity;вБ†вАФhe was systematical, and, like all systematick reasoners, he would move both heaven and earth, and twist and torture everything in nature, to support his hypothesis. In a word, I repeat it over again;вБ†вАФhe was serious;вБ†вАФand, in consequence of it, he would lose all kind of patience whenever he saw people, especially of condition, who should have known better,вБ†вЄЇвБ†as careless and as indifferent about the name they imposed upon their child,вБ†вАФor more so, than in the choice of Ponto or Cupid for their puppy-dog.

This, he would say, lookвАЩd ill;вБ†вАФand had, moreover, this particular aggravation in it, viz., That when once a vile name was wrongfully or injudiciously given, вАЩtwas not like the case of a manвАЩs character, which, when wrongвАЩd, might hereafter be cleared;вБ†вЄЇвБ†and, possibly, some time or other, if not in the manвАЩs life, at least after his death,вБ†вАФbe, somehow or other, set to rights with the world: But the injury of this, he would say, could never be undone;вБ†вАФnay, he doubted even whether an act of parliament could reach it:вБ†вЄЇвБ†He knew as well as you, that the legislature assumed a power over surnames;вБ†вАФbut for very strong reasons, which he could give, it had never yet adventured, he would say, to go a step farther.

It was observable, that though my father, in consequence of this opinion, had, as I have told you, the strongest likings and dislikings towards certain names;вБ†вАФthat there were still numbers of names which hung so equally in the balance before him, that they were absolutely indifferent to him. Jack, Dick, and Tom were of this class: These my father called neutral names;вБ†вАФaffirming of them, without a satire, That there had been as many knaves and fools, at least, as wise and good men, since the world began, who had indifferently borne them;вБ†вАФso that, like equal forces acting against each other in contrary directions, he thought they mutually destroyed each otherвАЩs effects; for which reason, he would often declare, He would not give a cherrystone to choose amongst them. Bob, which was my brotherвАЩs name, was another of these neutral kinds of christian names, which operated very little either way; and as my father happenвАЩd to be at Epsom, when it was given him,вБ†вАФhe would ofttimes thank Heaven it was no worse. Andrew was something like a negative quantity in Algebra with him;вБ†вАФвАЩtwas worse, he said, than nothing.вБ†вАФWilliam stood pretty high:вБ†вЄЇвБ†Numps again was low with him:вБ†вАФand Nick, he said, was the Devil.

But, of all the names in the universe, he had the most unconquerable aversion for Tristram;вБ†вАФhe had the lowest and most contemptible opinion of it of anything in the world,вБ†вАФthinking it could possibly produce nothing in rerum natur√Ґ, but what was extremely mean and pitiful: So that in the midst of a dispute on the subject, in which, by the by, he was frequently involved,вБ†вЄЇвБ†he would sometimes break off in a sudden and spirited Epiphonema, or rather Erotesis, raised a third, and sometimes a full fifth above the key of the discourse,вБ†вЄЇвБ†and demand it categorically of his antagonist, Whether he would take upon him to say, he had ever remembered,вБ†вЄЇвБ†whether he had ever read,вБ†вАФor even whether he had ever heard tell of a man, called Tristram, performing anything great or worth recording?вБ†вАФNo,вБ†вАФhe would say,вБ†вАФTristram!вБ†вАФThe thing is impossible.

What could be wanting in my father but to have wrote a book to publish this notion of his to the world? Little boots it to the subtle speculatist to stand single in his opinions,вБ†вАФunless he gives them proper vent:вБ†вАФIt was the identical thing which my father did:вБ†вАФfor in the year sixteen, which was two years before I was born, he was at the pains of writing an express Dissertation simply upon the word Tristram,вБ†вАФshowing the world, with great candour and modesty, the grounds of his great abhorrence to the name.

When this story is compared with the title-page,вБ†вАФWill not the gentle reader pity my father from his soul?вБ†вАФto see an orderly and well-disposed gentleman, who though singular,вБ†вАФyet inoffensive in his notions,вБ†вАФso played upon in them by cross purposes;вБ†вЄЇвБ†to look down upon the stage, and see him baffled and overthrown in all his little systems and wishes; to behold a train of events perpetually falling out against him, and in so critical and cruel a way, as if they had purposedly been plannвАЩd and pointed against him, merely to insult his speculations.вБ†вЄЇвБ†In a word, to behold such a one, in his old age, ill-fitted for troubles, ten times in a day suffering sorrow;вБ†вАФten times in a day calling the child of his prayers Tristram!вБ†вАФMelancholy dissyllable of sound! which, to his ears, was unison to Nincompoop, and every name vituperative under heaven.вБ†вЄЇвБ†By his ashes! I swear it,вБ†вАФif ever malignant spirit took pleasure, or busied itself in traversing the purposes of mortal man,вБ†вАФit must have been here;вБ†вАФand if it was not necessary I should be born before I was christened, I would this moment give the reader an account of it.

XX

вЄїHow could you, Madam, be so inattentive in reading the last chapter? I told you in it, That my mother was not a papist.вБ†вЄЇвБ†Papist! You told me no such thing, Sir.вБ†вАФMadam, I beg leave to repeat it over again, that I told you as plain, at least, as words, by direct inference, could tell you such a thing.вБ†вАФThen, Sir, I must have missвАЩd a page.вБ†вАФNo, Madam,вБ†вАФyou have not missвАЩd a word.вБ†вЄЇвБ†Then I was asleep, Sir.вБ†вАФMy pride, Madam, cannot allow you that refuge.вБ†вЄЇвБ†Then, I declare, I know nothing at all about the matter.вБ†вАФThat, Madam, is the very fault I lay to your charge; and as a punishment for it, I do insist upon it, that you immediately turn back, that is, as soon as you get to the next full stop, and read the whole chapter over again. I have imposed this penance upon the lady, neither out of wantonness nor cruelty; but from the best of motives; and therefore shall make her no apology for it when she returns back:вБ†вАФвАЩTis to rebuke a vicious taste, which has crept into thousands besides herself,вБ†вАФof reading straight forwards, more in quest of the adventures, than of the deep erudition and knowledge which a book of this cast, if read over as it should be, would infallibly impart with themвБ†вЄЇвБ†The mind should be accustomed to make wise reflections, and draw curious conclusions as it goes along; the habitude of which made Pliny the younger affirm, вАЬThat he never read a book so bad, but he drew some profit from it.вАЭ The stories of Greece and Rome, run over without this turn and application,вБ†вАФdo less service, I affirm it, than the history of Parismus and Parismenus, or of the Seven Champions of England, read with it.

вЄїBut here comes my fair lady. Have you read over again the chapter, Madam, as I desired you?вБ†вАФYou have: And did you not observe the passage, upon the second reading, which admits the inference?вБ†вЄЇвБ†Not a word like it! Then, Madam, be pleased to ponder well the last line but one of the chapter, where I take upon me to say, вАЬIt was necessary I should be born before I was christenвАЩd.вАЭ Had my mother, Madam, been a Papist, that consequence did not follow.

It is a terrible misfortune for this same book of mine, but more so to the Republick of letters;вБ†вАФso that my own is quite swallowed up in the consideration of it,вБ†вАФthat this selfsame vile pruriency for fresh adventures in all things, has got so strongly into our habit and humour,вБ†вАФand so wholly intent are we upon satisfying the impatience of our concupiscence that way,вБ†вАФthat nothing but the gross and more carnal parts of a composition will go down:вБ†вАФThe subtle hints and sly communications of science fly off, like spirits upwards,вБ†вЄЇвБ†the heavy moral escapes downwards; and both the one and the other are as much lost to the world, as if they were still left in the bottom of the ink-horn.

I wish the male-reader has not passвАЩd by many a one, as quaint and curious as this one, in which the female-reader has been detected. I wish it may have its effects;вБ†вАФand that all good people, both male and female, from her example, may be taught to think as well as read.

Un Chirurgien Accoucheur, represente √† Messieurs les Docteurs de Sorbonne, quвАЩil y a des cas, quoique tr√®s rares, o√є une mere ne s√Іauroit accoucher,¬†& m√™me o√є lвАЩenfant est tellement renferm√© dans le sein de sa mere, quвАЩil ne fait par√іitre aucune partie de son corps, ce qui seroit un cas, suivant les Rituels, de lui conf√©rer, du moins sous condition, le bapt√™me. Le Chirurgien, qui consulte, pr√©tend, par le moyen dвАЩune petite canulle, de pouvoir baptiser immediatement lвАЩenfant, sans faire aucun tort √† la mere.вБ†вЄЇвБ†Il demand si ce moyen, quвАЩil vient de proposer, est permis¬†& l√©gitime,¬†& sвАЩil peut sвАЩen servir dans les cas quвАЩil vient dвАЩexposer.

Le Conseil estime, que la question propos√©e souffre de grandes difficult√©s. Les Th√©ologiens posent dвАЩun c√іt√© pour principe, que le bapt√™me, qui est une naissance spirituelle, suppose une premiere naissance; il faut √™tre n√© dans le monde, pour rena√Ѓtre en Jesus Christ, comme ils lвАЩenseignent. S.¬†Thomas, 3 part, qu√¶st. 88, artic. II, suit cette doctrine comme une verit√© constante; lвАЩon ne peut, dit ce S.¬†Docteur, baptiser les enfans qui sont renferm√©s dans le sein de leurs meres,¬†& S.¬†Thomas est fond√© sur ce, que les enfans ne sont point n√©s,¬†& ne peuvent √™tre compt√©s parmi les autres hommes; dвАЩo√є il conclud, quвАЩils ne peuvent √™tre lвАЩobjet dвАЩune action ext√©rieure, pour re√Іevoir par leur minist√©re, les sacremens n√©cessaires au salut: Pueri in maternis uteris existentes nondum prodierunt in lucem ut cum aliis hominibus vitam ducant; unde non possunt subjici actioni humanae, ut per eorum ministerium sacramenta recipiant ad salutem. Les rituels ordonnent dans la pratique ce que les th√©ologiens ont √©tabli sur les m√™mes mati√©res,¬†& ils deffendent tous dвАЩune mani√©re uniforme, de baptiser les enfants qui sont renferm√©s dans le sein de leurs meres, sвАЩils ne font paro√Ѓtre quelque partie de leurs corps. Le concours des th√©ologiens,¬†& des rituels, qui sont les r√©gles des dioc√©ses, paroit former une autorit√© qui termine la question presente; cependant le conseil de conscience considerant dвАЩun c√іt√©, que le raisonnement des th√©ologiens est uniquement fond√© sur une raison de convenance,¬†& que la deffense des rituels suppose que lвАЩon ne peut baptiser immediatement les enfans ainsi renferm√©s dans le sein de leurs meres, ce qui est contre la supposition presente;¬†& dвАЩun autre c√іt√©, considerant que les m√™mes th√©ologiens enseignent, que lвАЩon peut risquer les sacremens que Jesus Christ a √©tablis comme des moyens faciles, mais n√©cessaires pour sanctifier les hommes;¬†& dвАЩailleurs estimant, que les enfans renferm√©s dans le sein de leurs meres, pourroient √™tre capables de salut, parcequвАЩils sont capables de damnation;вБ†вАФpour ces considerations,¬†& en egard √† lвАЩexpos√©, suivant lequel on assure avoir trouv√© un moyen certain de baptiser ces enfans ainsi renferm√©s, sans faire aucun tort √† la mere, le Conseil estime que lвАЩon pourroit se servir du moyen propos√©, dans la confiance quвАЩil a, que Dieu nвАЩa point laiss√© ces sortes dвАЩenfans sans aucuns secours,¬†& supposant, comme il est expos√©, que le moyen dont il sвАЩagit est propre √† leur procurer le bapt√™me; cependant comme il sвАЩagiroit, en autorisant la pratique propos√©e, de changer une regie universellement √©tablie, le Conseil croit que celui qui consulte doit sвАЩaddresser √† son ev√™que,¬†& √† qui il appartient de juger de lвАЩutilit√©,¬†& du danger du moyen propos√©,¬†& comme, sous le bon plaisir de lвАЩev√™que, le Conseil estime quвАЩil faudroit recourir au Pape, qui a le droit dвАЩexpliquer les r√©gles de lвАЩeglise,¬†& dвАЩy d√©roger dans le cas, ou la loi ne s√Іauroit obliger, quelque sage¬†& quelque utile que paroisse la mani√©re de baptiser dont il sвАЩagit, le Conseil ne pourroit lвАЩapprouver sans le concours de ces deux autorit√©s. On conseile au moins √† celui qui consulte, de sвАЩaddresser √† son ev√™que,¬†& de lui faire part de la presente d√©cision, afin que, si le prelat entre dans les raisons sur lesquelles les docteurs soussign√©s sвАЩappuyent, il puisse √™tre autoris√© dans le cas de n√©cessit√©, ou il risqueroit trop dвАЩattendre que la permission f√їt demand√©e¬†& accord√©e dвАЩemployer le moyen quвАЩil propose si avantageux au salut de lвАЩenfant. Au reste, le Conseil, en estimant que lвАЩon pourroit sвАЩen servir, croit cependant, que si les enfans dont il sвАЩagit, venoient au monde, contre lвАЩesperance de ceux qui se seroient servis du m√™me moyen, il seroit n√©cessaire de les baptiser sous condition;¬†& en cela le Conseil se conforme √† tous les rituels, qui en autorisant le bapt√™me dвАЩun enfant qui fait paro√Ѓtre quelque partie de son corps, enjoignent n√©antmoins,¬†& ordonnent de le baptiser sous condition, sвАЩil vient heureusement au monde.

Mr.¬†Tristram ShandyвАЩs compliments to Messrs. Le Moyne, De Romigny, and De Marcilly; hopes they all rested well the night after so tiresome a consultation.вБ†вАФHe begs to know, whether after the ceremony of marriage, and before that of consummation, the baptizing all the Homunculi at once, slapdash, by injection, would not be a shorter and safer cut still; on condition, as above, That if the Homunculi do well, and come safe into the world after this, that each and every of them shall be baptized again (sous condition)вБ†вЄЇвБ†And provided, in the second place, That the thing can be done, which Mr.¬†Shandy apprehends it may, par le moyen dвАЩune petite canulle, and sans faire aucun tort au p√®re.

XXI

вЄЇвБ†I wonder whatвАЩs all that noise, and running backwards and forwards for, above stairs, quoth my father, addressing himself, after an hour and a halfвАЩs silence, to my uncle Toby,вБ†вЄЇвБ†who, you must know, was sitting on the opposite side of the fire, smoking his social pipe all the time, in mute contemplation of a new pair of black plush-breeches which he had got on:вБ†вАФWhat can they be doing, brother?вБ†вАФquoth my father,вБ†вАФwe can scarce hear ourselves talk.

I think, replied my uncle Toby, taking his pipe from his mouth, and striking the head of it two or three times upon the nail of his left thumb, as he began his sentence,вБ†вЄЇвБ†I think, says he:вБ†вЄЇвБ†But to enter rightly into my uncle TobyвАЩs sentiments upon this matter, you must be made to enter first a little into his character, the outlines of which I shall just give you, and then the dialogue between him and my father will go on as well again.

Pray what was that manвАЩs name,вБ†вАФfor I write in such a hurry, I have no time to recollect or look for it,вБ†вЄЇвБ†who first made the observation, вАЬThat there was great inconstancy in our air and climate?вАЭ Whoever he was, вАЩtwas a just and good observation in him.вБ†вАФBut the corollary drawn from it, namely, вАЬThat it is this which has furnished us with such a variety of odd and whimsical characters;вАЭвБ†вАФthat was not his;вБ†вАФit was found out by another man, at least a century and a half after him: Then again,вБ†вАФthat this copious storehouse of original materials, is the true and natural cause that our Comedies are so much better than those of France, or any others that either have, or can be wrote upon the Continent:вБ†вЄЇвБ†that discovery was not fully made till about the middle of King WilliamвАЩs reign,вБ†вАФwhen the great Dryden, in writing one of his long prefaces, (if I mistake not) most fortunately hit upon it. Indeed toward the latter end of Queen Anne, the great Addison began to patronize the notion, and more fully explained it to the world in one or two of his Spectators;вБ†вАФbut the discovery was not his.вБ†вАФThen, fourthly and lastly, that this strange irregularity in our climate, producing so strange an irregularity in our characters,вБ†вЄЇвБ†doth thereby, in some sort, make us amends, by giving us somewhat to make us merry with when the weather will not suffer us to go out of doors,вБ†вАФthat observation is my own;вБ†вАФand was struck out by me this very rainy day, March 26, 1759, and betwixt the hours of nine and ten in the morning.

ThusвБ†вАФthus, my fellow-labourers and associates in this great harvest of our learning, now ripening before our eyes; thus it is, by slow steps of casual increase, that our knowledge physical, metaphysical, physiological, polemical, nautical, mathematical, √¶nigmatical, technical, biographical, romantical, chemical, and obstetrical, with fifty other branches of it, (most of вАЩem ending as these do, in ical) have for these two last centuries and more, gradually been creeping upwards towards that бЉИќЇќЉбљі of their perfections, from which, if we may form a conjecture from the advances of these last seven years, we cannot possibly be far off.

When that happens, it is to be hoped, it will put an end to all kind of writings whatsoever;вБ†вАФthe want of all kind of writing will put an end to all kind of reading;вБ†вАФand that in time, As war begets poverty; poverty peace,вБ†вЄЇвБ†must, in course, put an end to all kind of knowledge,вБ†вАФand thenвБ†вЄЇвБ†we shall have all to begin over again; or, in other words, be exactly where we started.

вЄїHappy! thrice happy times! I only wish that the √¶ra of my begetting, as well as the mode and manner of it, had been a little alterвАЩd,вБ†вЄЇвБ†or that it could have been put off, with any convenience to my father or mother, for some twenty or five-and-twenty years longer, when a man in the literary world might have stood some chance.вБ†вЄЇвБ†

But I forget my uncle Toby, whom all this while we have left knocking the ashes out of his tobacco-pipe.

His humour was of that particular species, which does honour to our atmosphere; and I should have made no scruple of ranking him amongst one of the first-rate productions of it, had not there appeared too many strong lines in it of a family-likeness, which showed that he derived the singularity of his temper more from blood, than either wind or water, or any modifications or combinations of them whatever: And I have, therefore, ofttimes wondered, that my father, though I believe he had his reasons for it, upon his observing some tokens of eccentricity, in my course, when I was a boy,вБ†вАФshould never once endeavour to account for them in this way: for all the Shandy Family were of an original character throughout:вБ†вЄЇвБ†I mean the males,вБ†вАФthe females had no character at all,вБ†вАФexcept, indeed, my great aunt Dinah, who, about sixty years ago, was married and got with child by the coachman, for which my father, according to his hypothesis of christian names, would often say, She might thank her godfathers and godmothers.

It will seem very strange,вБ†вЄЇвБ†and I would as soon think of dropping a riddle in the readerвАЩs way, which is not my interest to do, as set him upon guessing how it could come to pass, that an event of this kind, so many years after it had happened, should be reserved for the interruption of the peace and unity, which otherwise so cordially subsisted, between my father and my uncle Toby. One would have thought, that the whole force of the misfortune should have spent and wasted itself in the family at first,вБ†вАФas is generally the case.вБ†вАФBut nothing ever wrought with our family after the ordinary way. Possibly at the very time this happened, it might have something else to afflict it; and as afflictions are sent down for our good, and that as this had never done the Shandy Family any good at all, it might lie waiting till apt times and circumstances should give it an opportunity to discharge its office.вБ†вЄЇвБ†Observe, I determine nothing upon this.вБ†вЄЇвБ†My way is ever to point out to the curious, different tracts of investigation, to come at the first springs of the events I tell;вБ†вАФnot with a pedantic Fescue,вБ†вАФor in the decisive manner of Tacitus, who outwits himself and his reader;вБ†вАФbut with the officious humility of a heart devoted to the assistance merely of the inquisitive;вБ†вАФto them I write,вБ†вЄЇвБ†and by them I shall be read,вБ†вЄЇвБ†if any such reading as this could be supposed to hold out so long,вБ†вАФto the very end of the world.

Why this cause of sorrow, therefore, was thus reserved for my father and uncle, is undetermined by me. But how and in what direction it exerted itself so as to become the cause of dissatisfaction between them, after it began to operate, is what I am able to explain with great exactness, and is as follows:

My uncle Toby Shandy, Madam, was a gentleman, who, with the virtues which usually constitute the character of a man of honour and rectitude,вБ†вЄЇвБ†possessed one in a very eminent degree, which is seldom or never put into the catalogue; and that was a most extreme and unparallelвАЩd modesty of nature;вБ†вЄЇвБ†though I correct the word nature, for this reason, that I may not prejudge a point which must shortly come to a hearing, and that is, Whether this modesty of his was natural or acquirвАЩd.вБ†вЄЇвБ†Whichever way my uncle Toby came by it, вАЩtwas nevertheless modesty in the truest sense of it; and that is, Madam, not in regard to words, for he was so unhappy as to have very little choice in them,вБ†вАФbut to things;вБ†вЄЇвБ†and this kind of modesty so possessed him, and it arose to such a height in him, as almost to equal, if such a thing could be, even the modesty of a woman: That female nicety, Madam, and inward cleanliness of mind and fancy, in your sex, which makes you so much the awe of ours.

You will imagine, Madam, that my uncle Toby had contracted all this from this very source;вБ†вАФthat he had spent a great part of his time in converse with your sex; and that from a thorough knowledge of you, and the force of imitation which such fair examples render irresistible, he had acquired this amiable turn of mind.

I wish I could say so,вБ†вАФfor unless it was with his sister-in-law, my fatherвАЩs wife and my motherвБ†вЄЇвБ†my uncle Toby scarce exchanged three words with the sex in as many years;вБ†вАФno, he got it, Madam, by a blow.вБ†вЄЇвБ†A blow!вБ†вАФYes, Madam, it was owing to a blow from a stone, broke off by a ball from the parapet of a horn-work at the siege of Namur, which struck full upon my uncle TobyвАЩs groin.вБ†вАФWhich way could that effect it? The story of that, Madam, is long and interesting;вБ†вАФbut it would be running my history all upon heaps to give it you here.вБ†вЄЇвАЩTis for an episode hereafter; and every circumstance relating to it, in its proper place, shall be faithfully laid before you:вБ†вАФвАЩTill then, it is not in my power to give farther light into this matter, or say more than what I have said already,вБ†вЄЇвБ†That my uncle Toby was a gentleman of unparallelвАЩd modesty, which happening to be somewhat subtilized and rarified by the constant heat of a little family pride,вБ†вЄЇвБ†they both so wrought together within him, that he could never bear to hear the affair of my aunt Dinah touchвАЩd upon, but with the greatest emotion.вБ†вЄЇвБ†The least hint of it was enough to make the blood fly into his face;вБ†вАФbut when my father enlarged upon the story in mixed companies, which the illustration of his hypothesis frequently obliged him to do,вБ†вАФthe unfortunate blight of one of the fairest branches of the family, would set my uncle TobyвАЩs honour and modesty oвАЩbleeding; and he would often take my father aside, in the greatest concern imaginable, to expostulate and tell him, he would give him anything in the world, only to let the story rest.

My father, I believe, had the truest love and tenderness for my uncle Toby, that ever one brother bore towards another, and would have done anything in nature, which one brother in reason could have desirвАЩd of another, to have made my uncle TobyвАЩs heart easy in this, or any other point. But this lay out of his power.

вЄЇвБ†My father, as I told you, was a philosopher in grain,вБ†вАФspeculative,вБ†вАФsystematical;вБ†вАФand my aunt DinahвАЩs affair was a matter of as much consequence to him, as the retrogradation of the planets to Copernicus:вБ†вАФThe backslidings of Venus in her orbit fortified the Copernican system, called so after his name; and the backslidings of my aunt Dinah in her orbit, did the same service in establishing my fatherвАЩs system, which, I trust, will forever hereafter be called the Shandean System, after this.

In any other family dishonour, my father, I believe, had as nice a sense of shame as any man whatever;вБ†вЄЇвБ†and neither he, nor, I dare say, Copernicus, would have divulged the affair in either case, or have taken the least notice of it to the world, but for the obligations they owed, as they thought, to truth.вБ†вАФAmicus Plato, my father would say, construing the words to my uncle Toby, as he went along, Amicus Plato; that is, Dinah was my aunt;вБ†вАФsed magis amica veritasвБ†вЄЇвБ†but Truth is my sister.

This contrariety of humours betwixt my father and my uncle, was the source of many a fraternal squabble. The one could not bear to hear the tale of family disgrace recorded,вБ†вЄЇвБ†and the other would scarce ever let a day pass to an end without some hint at it.

For GodвАЩs sake, my uncle Toby would cry,вБ†вЄЇвБ†and for my sake, and for all our sakes, my dear brother Shandy,вБ†вАФdo let this story of our auntвАЩs and her ashes sleep in peace;вБ†вЄЇвБ†how can you,вБ†вЄЇвБ†how can you have so little feeling and compassion for the character of our family?вБ†вЄЇвБ†What is the character of a family to an hypothesis? my father would reply.вБ†вЄЇвБ†Nay, if you come to thatвБ†вАФwhat is the life of a family?вБ†вЄЇвБ†The life of a family!вБ†вАФmy uncle Toby would say, throwing himself back in his arm chair, and lifting up his hands, his eyes, and one leg.вБ†вЄЇвБ†Yes, the life,вБ†вЄЇвБ†my father would say, maintaining his point. How many thousands of вАЩem are there every year that come cast away, (in all civilized countries at least)вБ†вЄЇвБ†and considered as nothing but common air, in competition of an hypothesis. In my plain sense of things, my uncle Toby would answer,вБ†вЄЇвБ†every such instance is downright Murder, let who will commit it.вБ†вЄЇвБ†There lies your mistake, my father would reply;вБ†вЄЇвБ†for, in Foro Scientiae there is no such thing as Murder,вБ†вЄЇвАЩtis only Death, brother.

My uncle Toby would never offer to answer this by any other kind of argument, than that of whistling half a dozen bars of Lillabullero.вБ†вЄЇвБ†You must know it was the usual channel throвАЩ which his passions got vent, when anything shocked or surprised him:вБ†вЄЇвБ†but especially when anything, which he deemвАЩd very absurd, was offered.

As not one of our logical writers, nor any of the commentators upon them, that I remember, have thought proper to give a name to this particular species of argument,вБ†вАФI here take the liberty to do it myself, for two reasons. First, That, in order to prevent all confusion in disputes, it may stand as much distinguished forever, from every other species of argumentвБ†вЄїas the Argumentum ad Verecundiam, ex Absurdo, ex Fortiori, or any other argument whatsoever:вБ†вЄЇвБ†And, secondly, That it may be said by my childrenвАЩs children, when my head is laid to rest,вБ†вЄЇвБ†that their learnвАЩd grandfatherвАЩs head had been busied to as much purpose once, as other peopleвАЩs;вБ†вАФThat he had invented a name,вБ†вАФand generously thrown it into the Treasury of the Ars Logica, for one of the most unanswerable arguments in the whole science. And, if the end of disputation is more to silence than convince,вБ†вАФthey may add, if they please, to one of the best arguments too.

I do therefore, by these presents, strictly order and command, That it be known and distinguished by the name and title of the Argumentum Fistulatorium, and no other;вБ†вАФand that it rank hereafter with the Argumentum Baculinum and the Argumentum ad Crumenam, and forever hereafter be treated of in the same chapter.

As for the Argumentum Tripodium, which is never used but by the woman against the man;вБ†вАФand the Argumentum ad Rem, which, contrarywise, is made use of by the man only against the woman;вБ†вАФAs these two are enough in conscience for one lecture;вБ†вЄЇвБ†and, moreover, as the one is the best answer to the other,вБ†вАФlet them likewise be kept apart, and be treated of in a place by themselves.

XXII

The learned Bishop Hall, I mean the famous Dr.¬†Joseph Hall, who was Bishop of Exeter in King James the FirstвАЩs reign, tells us in one of his Decads, at the end of his divine art of meditation, imprinted at London, in the year 1610, by John Beal, dwelling in Aldersgate-street, вАЬThat it is an abominable thing for a man to commend himself;вАЭвБ†вЄЇвБ†and I really think it is so.

And yet, on the other hand, when a thing is executed in a masterly kind of a fashion, which thing is not likely to be found out;вБ†вАФI think it is full as abominable, that a man should lose the honour of it, and go out of the world with the conceit of it rotting in his head.

This is precisely my situation.

For in this long digression which I was accidentally led into, as in all my digressions (one only excepted) there is a masterstroke of digressive skill, the merit of which has all along, I fear, been overlooked by my reader,вБ†вАФnot for want of penetration in him,вБ†вАФbut because вАЩtis an excellence seldom looked for, or expected indeed, in a digression;вБ†вАФand it is this: That though my digressions are all fair, as you observe,вБ†вАФand that I fly off from what I am about, as far, and as often too, as any writer in Great Britain; yet I constantly take care to order affairs so that my main business does not stand still in my absence.

I was just going, for example, to have given you the great outlines of my uncle TobyвАЩs most whimsical character;вБ†вАФwhen my aunt Dinah and the coachman came across us, and led us a vagary some millions of miles into the very heart of the planetary system: Notwithstanding all this, you perceive that the drawing of my uncle TobyвАЩs character went on gently all the time;вБ†вАФnot the great contours of it,вБ†вАФthat was impossible,вБ†вАФbut some familiar strokes and faint designations of it, were here and there touchвАЩd on, as we went along, so that you are much better acquainted with my uncle Toby now than you was before.

By this contrivance the machinery of my work is of a species by itself; two contrary motions are introduced into it, and reconciled, which were thought to be at variance with each other. In a word, my work is digressive, and it is progressive too,вБ†вАФand at the same time.

This, Sir, is a very different story from that of the earthвАЩs moving round her axis, in her diurnal rotation, with her progress in her elliptick orbit which brings about the year, and constitutes that variety and vicissitude of seasons we enjoy;вБ†вАФthough I own it suggested the thought,вБ†вАФas I believe the greatest of our boasted improvements and discoveries have come from such trifling hints.

Digressions, incontestably, are the sunshine;вБ†вЄЇвБ†they are the life, the soul of reading!вБ†вАФtake them out of this book, for instance,вБ†вАФyou might as well take the book along with them;вБ†вАФone cold eternal winter would reign in every page of it; restore them to the writer;вБ†вАФhe steps forth like a bridegroom,вБ†вАФbids All-hail; brings in variety, and forbids the appetite to fail.

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,вБ†вАФfrom that moment, I observe, his whole work stands stock still;вБ†вАФand if he goes on with his main work,вБ†вАФthen there is an end of his digression.

вЄЇвБ†This is vile work.вБ†вАФFor 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;вБ†вАФand, whatвАЩs 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.

XXIII

I have a strong propensity in me to begin this chapter very nonsensically, and I will not baulk my fancy.вБ†вАФAccordingly I set off thus:

If the fixture of MomusвАЩs glass in the human breast, according to the proposed emendation of that arch-critick, had taken place,вБ†вЄЇвБ†first, This foolish consequence would certainly have followed,вБ†вАФThat 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 manвАЩs character, but to have taken a chair and gone softly, as you would to a dioptrical beehive, and lookвАЩd in,вБ†вАФviewвАЩd the soul stark naked;вБ†вАФobserved all her motions,вБ†вАФher machinations;вБ†вАФtraced all her maggots from their first engendering to their crawling forth;вБ†вАФwatched her loose in her frisks, her gambols, her capricios; and after some notice of her more solemn deportment, consequent upon such frisks, etc.вБ†вЄЇвБ†then taken your pen and ink and set down nothing but what you had seen, and could have sworn to:вБ†вАФBut this is an advantage not to be had by the biographer in this planet;вБ†вАФin the planet Mercury (belike) it may be so, if not better still for him;вБ†вЄЇвБ†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,вБ†вАФmust, 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 show to the contrary, but one fine transparent body of clear glass (bating the umbilical knot)вБ†вАФso that, till the inhabitants grow old and tolerably wrinkled, whereby the rays of light, in passing through them, become so monstrously refracted,вБ†вЄЇвБ†or return reflected from their surfaces in such transverse lines to the eye, that a man cannot be seen through;вБ†вАФhis soul might as well, unless for mere ceremony, or the trifling advantage which the umbilical point gave her,вБ†вАФmight, upon all other accounts, I say, as well play the fool out oвАЩdoors as in her own house.

But this, as I said above, is not the case of the inhabitants of this earth;вБ†вАФour 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.вБ†вАФVirgil takes notice of that way in the affair of Dido and Aeneas;вБ†вАФbut it is as fallacious as the breath of fame;вБ†вАФand, 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,вБ†вАФwhich they say is infallible.вБ†вАФI dare not mention the name of the instrument in this place;вБ†вАФвАЩtis sufficient we have it amongst us,вБ†вАФbut never think of making a drawing by it;вБ†вАФthis is √¶nigmatical, and intended to be so, at least ad populum:вБ†вАФAnd 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 it.

There are others again, who will draw a manвАЩs character from no other helps in the world, but merely from his evacuations;вБ†вАФbut this often gives a very incorrect outline,вБ†вАФunless, 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,вБ†вАФand be renderвАЩd still more operose, by forcing you to have an eye to the rest of his Non-naturals.вБ†вЄЇвБ†Why the most natural actions of a manвАЩs life should be called his Non-naturals,вБ†вАФis another question.

There are others, fourthly, who disdain every one of these expedients;вБ†вАФnot 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 of the brush have shown in taking copies.вБ†вАФThese, you must know, are your great historians.

One of these you will see drawing a full-length character against the light;вБ†вАФthatвАЩs illiberal,вБ†вАФdishonest,вБ†вАФand hard upon the character of the man who sits.

Others, to mend the matter, will make a drawing of you in the Camera;вБ†вАФthat is most unfair of all,вБ†вАФbecause, 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 TobyвАЩs character, I am determined to draw it by no mechanical help whatever;вБ†вЄЇвБ†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;вБ†вАФnor will I consider either his repletions or his discharges,вБ†вАФor touch upon his Non-naturalsвБ†вАФbut, in a word, I will draw my uncle TobyвАЩs character from his Hobbyhorse.

XXIV

If I was not morally sure that the reader must be out of all patience for my uncle TobyвАЩs character,вБ†вЄЇвБ†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 pitchвАЩd upon.

A man and his Hobbyhorse, though I cannot say that they act and react 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,вБ†вАФand that, by means of the heated parts of the rider, which come immediately into contact with the back of the Hobbyhorse,вБ†вАФby long journeys and much friction, it so happens, that the body of the rider is at length fillвАЩd as full of Hobbyhorsical matter as it can hold;вБ†вЄЇвБ†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 Hobbyhorse which my uncle Toby always rode upon, was in my opinion a Hobbyhorse well worth giving a description of, if it was only upon the score of his great singularity;вБ†вАФfor you might have travelled from York to Dover,вБ†вАФfrom 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 stoppвАЩd 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,вБ†вЄЇвБ†whether he was really a Hobbyhorse 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;вБ†вАФso would my uncle Toby use no other argument to prove his Hobbyhorse was a Hobbyhorse indeed, but by getting upon his back and riding him about;вБ†вАФleaving 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,вБ†вЄЇвБ†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:вБ†вАФBut to go on regularly, I only beg you will give me leave to acquaint you first, how my uncle Toby came by him.

XXV

The wound in my uncle TobyвАЩs 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,вБ†вАФpart 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, sufferвАЩd unspeakable miseries,вБ†вАФowing to a succession of exfoliations from the os pubis, and the outward edge of that part of the coxendix called the os illium,вБ†вЄЇвБ†both which bones were dismally crushвАЩd, as much by the irregularity of the stone, which I told you was broke off the parapet,вБ†вАФas by its size,вБ†вАФ(though it was pretty large) which inclined the surgeon all along to think, that the great injury which it had done my uncle TobyвАЩs groin, was more owing to the gravity of the stone itself, than to the projectile force of it,вБ†вАФwhich he would often tell him was a great happiness.

My father at that time was just beginning business in London, and had taken a house;вБ†вАФand as the truest friendship and cordiality subsisted between the two brothers,вБ†вАФand that my father thought my uncle Toby could no where be so well nursed and taken care of as in his own house,вБ†вЄЇвБ†he assignвАЩd him the very best apartment in it.вБ†вАФAnd 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 upstairs to see his brother Toby, and chat an hour by his bedside.

The history of a soldierвАЩs wound beguiles the pain of it;вБ†вАФmy uncleвАЩs 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,вБ†вАФand 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,вБ†вЄЇвАЩtis impossible for you to guess;вБ†вАФif you could,вБ†вАФI should blush; not as a relation,вБ†вАФnot as a man,вБ†вАФnor even as a woman,вБ†вАФbut 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 anything. 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,вБ†вАФI would tear it out of my book.