The Life and Opinions of Tristram Shandy, Gentleman Part 59

-It obliged my uncle Toby to make use of his forefinger.

The difference it made in the attack was this; That in going upon it, as in the first case, with the end of her fore-finger against the end of my uncle Toby's tobacco-pipe, she might have travelled with it, along the lines, from Dan to Beersheba, had my uncle Toby's lines reach'd so far, without any effect: For as there was no arterial or vital heat in the end of the tobacco-pipe, it could excite no sentiment-it could neither give fire by pulsation-or receive it by sympathy-'twas nothing but smoke.

Whereas, in following my uncle Toby's forefinger with hers, close thro' all the little turns and indentings of his works-pressing sometimes against the side of it-then treading upon its nail-then tripping it up-then touching it here-then there, and so on-it set something at least in motion.

This, tho' slight skirmishing, and at a distance from the main body, yet drew on the rest; for here, the map usually falling with the back of it, close to the side of the sentry-box, my uncle Toby, in the simplicity of his soul, would lay his hand flat upon it, in order to go on with his explanation; and Mrs. Wadman, by a manoeuvre as quick as thought, would as certainly place her's close beside it; this at once opened a communication, large enough for any sentiment to pa.s.s or re-pa.s.s, which a person skill'd in the elementary and practical part of love-making, has occasion for-

By bringing up her forefinger parallel (as before) to my uncle Toby's-it unavoidably brought the thumb into action-and the forefinger and thumb being once engaged, as naturally brought in the whole hand. Thine, dear uncle Toby! was never now in 'ts right place-Mrs. Wadman had it ever to take up, or, with the gentlest pushings, protrusions, and equivocal compressions, that a hand to be removed is capable of receiving-to get it press'd a hair breadth of one side out of her way.

Whilst this was doing, how could she forget to make him sensible, that it was her leg (and no one's else) at the bottom of the sentry-box, which slightly press'd against the calf of his-So that my uncle Toby being thus attack'd and sore push'd on both his wings-was it a wonder, if now and then, it put his centre into disorder?-

-The duce take it! said my uncle Toby.

Chapter 4.XLI.

These attacks of Mrs. Wadman, you will readily conceive to be of different kinds; varying from each other, like the attacks which history is full of, and from the same reasons. A general looker-on would scarce allow them to be attacks at all-or if he did, would confound them all together-but I write not to them: it will be time enough to be a little more exact in my descriptions of them, as I come up to them, which will not be for some chapters; having nothing more to add in this, but that in a bundle of original papers and drawings which my father took care to roll up by themselves, there is a plan of Bouchain in perfect preservation (and shall be kept so, whilst I have power to preserve any thing), upon the lower corner of which, on the right hand side, there is still remaining the marks of a snuffy finger and thumb, which there is all the reason in the world to imagine, were Mrs. Wadman's; for the opposite side of the margin, which I suppose to have been my uncle Toby's, is absolutely clean: This seems an authenticated record of one of these attacks; for there are vestigia of the two punctures partly grown up, but still visible on the opposite corner of the map, which are unquestionably the very holes, through which it has been p.r.i.c.ked up in the sentry-box-

By all that is priestly! I value this precious relick, with its stigmata and p.r.i.c.ks, more than all the relicks of the Romish church-always excepting, when I am writing upon these matters, the p.r.i.c.ks which entered the flesh of St. Radagunda in the desert, which in your road from Fesse to Cluny, the nuns of that name will shew you for love.

Chapter 4.XLII.

I think, an' please your honour, quoth Trim, the fortifications are quite destroyed-and the bason is upon a level with the mole-I think so too; replied my uncle Toby with a sigh half suppress'd-but step into the parlour, Trim, for the stipulation-it lies upon the table.

It has lain there these six weeks, replied the corporal, till this very morning that the old woman kindled the fire with it-

-Then, said my uncle Toby, there is no further occasion for our services. The more, an' please your honour, the pity, said the corporal; in uttering which he cast his spade into the wheel-barrow, which was beside him, with an air the most expressive of disconsolation that can be imagined, and was heavily turning about to look for his pickax, his pioneer's shovel, his picquets, and other little military stores, in order to carry them off the field-when a heigh-ho! from the sentry-box, which being made of thin slit deal, reverberated the sound more sorrowfully to his ear, forbad him.

-No; said the corporal to himself, I'll do it before his honour rises to-morrow morning; so taking his spade out of the wheel-barrow again, with a little earth in it, as if to level something at the foot of the glacis-but with a real intent to approach nearer to his master, in order to divert him-he loosen'd a sod or two-pared their edges with his spade, and having given them a gentle blow or two with the back of it, he sat himself down close by my uncle Toby's feet and began as follows.

Chapter 4.XLIII.

It was a thousand pities-though I believe, an' please your honour, I am going to say but a foolish kind of a thing for a soldier-

A soldier, cried my uncle Toby, interrupting the corporal, is no more exempt from saying a foolish thing, Trim, than a man of letters-But not so often, an' please your honour, replied the corporal-my uncle Toby gave a nod.

It was a thousand pities then, said the corporal, casting his eye upon Dunkirk, and the mole, as Servius Sulpicius, in returning out of Asia (when he sailed from Aegina towards Megara), did upon Corinth and Pyreus-

-'It was a thousand pities, an' please your honour, to destroy these works-and a thousand pities to have let them stood.'-

-Thou art right, Trim, in both cases; said my uncle Toby.-This, continued the corporal, is the reason, that from the beginning of their demolition to the end-I have never once whistled, or sung, or laugh'd, or cry'd, or talk'd of past done deeds, or told your honour one story good or bad-

-Thou hast many excellencies, Trim, said my uncle Toby, and I hold it not the least of them, as thou happenest to be a story-teller, that of the number thou hast told me, either to amuse me in my painful hours, or divert me in my grave ones-thou hast seldom told me a bad one-

-Because, an' please your honour, except one of a King of Bohemia and his seven castles,-they are all true; for they are about myself-

I do not like the subject the worse, Trim, said my uncle Toby, on that score: But prithee what is this story? thou hast excited my curiosity.

I'll tell it your honour, quoth the corporal, directly-Provided, said my uncle Toby, looking earnestly towards Dunkirk and the mole again-provided it is not a merry one; to such, Trim, a man should ever bring one half of the entertainment along with him; and the disposition I am in at present would wrong both thee, Trim, and thy story-It is not a merry one by any means, replied the corporal-Nor would I have it altogether a grave one, added my uncle Toby-It is neither the one nor the other, replied the corporal, but will suit your honour exactly-Then I'll thank thee for it with all my heart, cried my uncle Toby; so prithee begin it, Trim.

The corporal made his reverence; and though it is not so easy a matter as the world imagines, to pull off a lank Montero-cap with grace-or a whit less difficult, in my conceptions, when a man is sitting squat upon the ground, to make a bow so teeming with respect as the corporal was wont; yet by suffering the palm of his right hand, which was towards his master, to slip backwards upon the gra.s.s, a little beyond his body, in order to allow it the greater sweep-and by an unforced compression, at the same time, of his cap with the thumb and the two forefingers of his left, by which the diameter of the cap became reduced, so that it might be said, rather to be insensibly squeez'd-than pull'd off with a flatus-the corporal acquitted himself of both in a better manner than the posture of his affairs promised; and having hemmed twice, to find in what key his story would best go, and best suit his master's humour,-he exchanged a single look of kindness with him, and set off thus.

The Story of the King of Bohemia and His Seven Castles.

There was a certain king of Bo...he-As the corporal was entering the confines of Bohemia, my uncle Toby obliged him to halt for a single moment; he had set out bare-headed, having, since he pull'd off his Montero-cap in the latter end of the last chapter, left it lying beside him on the ground.

-The eye of Goodness espieth all things-so that before the corporal had well got through the first five words of his story, had my uncle Toby twice touch'd his Montero-cap with the end of his cane, interrogatively-as much as to say, Why don't you put it on, Trim? Trim took it up with the most respectful slowness, and casting a glance of humiliation as he did it, upon the embroidery of the fore-part, which being dismally tarnish'd and fray'd moreover in some of the princ.i.p.al leaves and boldest parts of the pattern, he lay'd it down again between his two feet, in order to moralize upon the subject.

-'Tis every word of it but too true, cried my uncle Toby, that thou art about to observe-

'Nothing in this world, Trim, is made to last for ever.'

-But when tokens, dear Tom, of thy love and remembrance wear out, said Trim, what shall we say?

There is no occasion, Trim, quoth my uncle Toby, to say any thing else; and was a man to puzzle his brains till Doom's day, I believe, Trim, it would be impossible.

The corporal, perceiving my uncle Toby was in the right, and that it would be in vain for the wit of man to think of extracting a purer moral from his cap, without further attempting it, he put it on; and pa.s.sing his hand across his forehead to rub out a pensive wrinkle, which the text and the doctrine between them had engender'd, he return'd, with the same look and tone of voice, to his story of the king of Bohemia and his seven castles.

The Story of the King of Bohemia and His Seven Castles, Continued.

There was a certain king of Bohemia, but in whose reign, except his own, I am not able to inform your honour-

I do not desire it of thee, Trim, by any means, cried my uncle Toby.

-It was a little before the time, an' please your honour, when giants were beginning to leave off breeding:-but in what year of our Lord that was-

I would not give a halfpenny to know, said my uncle Toby.

-Only, an' please your honour, it makes a story look the better in the face-

-'Tis thy own, Trim, so ornament it after thy own fashion; and take any date, continued my uncle Toby, looking pleasantly upon him-take any date in the whole world thou chusest, and put it to-thou art heartily welcome-

The corporal bowed; for of every century, and of every year of that century, from the first creation of the world down to Noah's flood; and from Noah's flood to the birth of Abraham; through all the pilgrimages of the patriarchs, to the departure of the Israelites out of Egypt-and throughout all the Dynasties, Olympiads, Urbeconditas, and other memorable epochas of the different nations of the world, down to the coming of Christ, and from thence to the very moment in which the corporal was telling his story-had my uncle Toby subjected this vast empire of time and all its abysses at his feet; but as Modesty scarce touches with a finger what Liberality offers her with both hands open-the corporal contented himself with the very worst year of the whole bunch; which, to prevent your honours of the Majority and Minority from tearing the very flesh off your bones in contestation, 'Whether that year is not always the last cast-year of the last cast-almanack'-I tell you plainly it was; but from a different reason than you wot of-

-It was the year next him-which being the year of our Lord seventeen hundred and twelve, when the Duke of Ormond was playing the devil in Flanders-the corporal took it, and set out with it afresh on his expedition to Bohemia.

The Story of the King of Bohemia and His Seven Castles, Continued.