The Life and Opinions of Tristram Shandy, Gentleman Laurence Sterne (short novels to read .txt) 📖

Your honour remembers with concern, said the corporal, the total rout and confusion of our camp and army at the affair of Landen; everyone was left to shift for himself; and if it had not been for the regiments of Wyndham, Lumley, and Galway, which covered the retreat over the bridge of Neerspeeken, the king himself could scarce have gained it⁠⸺⁠he was press’d hard, as your honour knows, on every side of him⁠⸺⁠

Gallant mortal! cried my uncle Toby, caught up with enthusiasm⁠—this moment, now that all is lost, I see him galloping across me, corporal, to the left, to bring up the remains of the English horse along with him to support the right, and tear the laurel from Luxembourg’s brows, if yet ’tis possible⁠⸺⁠I see him with the knot of his scarfe just shot off, infusing fresh spirits into poor Galway’s regiment⁠—riding along the line⁠—then wheeling about, and charging Conti at the head of it⁠⸺⁠Brave! brave, by heaven! cried my uncle Toby⁠—he deserves a crown⁠⸺⁠As richly, as a thief a halter; shouted Trim.

My uncle Toby knew the corporal’s loyalty;⁠—otherwise the comparison was not at all to his mind⁠⸺⁠it did not altogether strike the corporal’s fancy when he had made it⁠⸺⁠but it could not be recall’d⁠⸺⁠so he had nothing to do, but proceed.

As the number of wounded was prodigious, and no one had time to think of anything but his own safety⁠—Though Talmash, said my uncle Toby, brought off the foot with great prudence⁠⸺⁠But I was left upon the field, said the corporal. Thou wast so; poor fellow! replied my uncle Toby⁠⸺⁠So that it was noon the next day, continued the corporal, before I was exchanged, and put into a cart with thirteen or fourteen more, in order to be convey’d to our hospital.

There is no part of the body, an’ please your honour, where a wound occasions more intolerable anguish than upon the knee⁠⸺⁠

Except the groin; said my uncle Toby. An’ please your honour, replied the corporal, the knee, in my opinion, must certainly be the most acute, there being so many tendons and what-d’ye-call-’ems all about it.

It is for that reason, quoth my uncle Toby, that the groin is infinitely more sensible⁠⸺⁠there being not only as many tendons and what-d’ye-call-’ems (for I know their names as little as thou dost)⁠⸺⁠about it⁠⸺⁠but moreover * * *⁠⸺⁠

Mrs. Wadman, who had been all the time in her arbour⁠—instantly stopp’d her breath⁠—unpinn’d her mob at the chin, and stood up upon one leg⁠⸺⁠

The dispute was maintained with amicable and equal force betwixt my uncle Toby and Trim for some time; till Trim at length recollecting that he had often cried at his master’s sufferings, but never shed a tear at his own⁠—was for giving up the point, which my uncle Toby would not allow⁠⸺’Tis a proof of nothing, Trim, said he, but the generosity of thy temper⁠⸺⁠

So that whether the pain of a wound in the groin (cæteris paribus) is greater than the pain of a wound in the knee⁠⸺⁠or

Whether the pain of a wound in the knee is not greater than the pain of a wound in the groin⁠⸺⁠are points which to this day remain unsettled.

The anguish of my knee, continued the corporal, was excessive in itself; and the uneasiness of the cart, with the roughness of the roads, which were terribly cut up⁠—making bad still worse⁠—every step was death to me: so that with the loss of blood, and the want of care-taking of me, and a fever I felt coming on besides⁠⸺(Poor soul! said my uncle Toby)⁠⸺⁠all together, an’ please your honour, was more than I could sustain.

I was telling my sufferings to a young woman at a peasant’s house, where our cart, which was the last of the line, had halted; they had help’d me in, and the young woman had taken a cordial out of her pocket and dropp’d it upon some sugar, and seeing it had cheer’d me, she had given it me a second and a third time⁠⸺⁠So I was telling her, an’ please your honour, the anguish I was in, and was saying it was so intolerable to me, that I had much rather lie down upon the bed, turning my face towards one which was in the corner of the room⁠—and die, than go on⁠⸺⁠when, upon her attempting to lead me to it, I fainted away in her arms. She was a good soul! as your honour, said the corporal, wiping his eyes, will hear.

I thought love had been a joyous thing, quoth my uncle Toby.

’Tis the most serious thing, an’ please your honour (sometimes), that is in the world.

By the persuasion of the young woman, continued the corporal, the cart with the wounded men set off without me: she had assured them I should expire immediately if I was put into the cart. So when I came to myself⁠⸺⁠I found myself in a still quiet cottage, with no one but the young woman, and the peasant and his wife. I was laid across the bed in the corner of the room, with my wounded leg upon a chair, and the young woman beside me, holding the corner of her handkerchief dipp’d in vinegar to my nose with one hand, and rubbing my temples with the other.

I took her at first for the daughter of the peasant (for it was no inn)⁠—so had offer’d her a little purse with eighteen florins, which my poor brother Tom (here Trim wip’d his eyes) had sent me as a token, by a recruit, just before he set out for Lisbon.⁠⸺⁠

⸺⁠I never told your honour that piteous story yet⁠⸺⁠here Trim wiped his eyes a third time.

The young woman call’d the old man and his wife into the room, to show them the money, in order to gain me credit for a bed and what little necessaries I should want, till I should be in a condition to be got to the hospital⁠⸺⁠Come then! said she, tying up the little