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

council with her, touching some slight misgivings with regard to the issue of the affairs, which the Devil, who never lies dead in a ditch, had put into her head⁠—before he would allow half time, to get quietly through her Te Deum.

I am terribly afraid, said widow Wadman, in case I should marry him, Bridget⁠—that the poor captain will not enjoy his health, with the monstrous wound upon his groin⁠⸺⁠

It may not, Madam, be so very large, replied Bridget, as you think⁠⸺⁠and I believe, besides, added she⁠—that ’tis dried up⁠⸺⁠

⸺⁠I could like to know⁠—merely for his sake, said Mrs. Wadman⁠⸺⁠

—We’ll know the long and the broad of it, in ten days⁠—answered Mrs. Bridget, for whilst the captain is paying his addresses to you⁠—I’m confident Mr. Trim will be for making love to me⁠—and I’ll let him as much as he will⁠—added Bridget⁠—to get it all out of him⁠⸺⁠

The measures were taken at once⁠⸺⁠and my uncle Toby and the corporal went on with theirs.

Now, quoth the corporal, setting his left hand akimbo, and giving such a flourish with his right, as just promised success⁠—and no more⁠⸺⁠if your honour will give me leave to lay down the plan of this attack⁠⸺⁠

⸺⁠Thou wilt please me by it, Trim, said my uncle Toby, exceedingly⁠—and as I foresee thou must act in it as my aid de camp, here’s a crown, corporal, to begin with, to steep thy commission.

Then, an’ please your honour, said the corporal (making a bow first for his commission)⁠—we will begin with getting your honour’s laced clothes out of the great campaign-trunk, to be well air’d, and have the blue and gold taken up at the sleeves⁠—and I’ll put your white ramallie-wig fresh into pipes⁠—and send for a tailor, to have your honour’s thin scarlet breeches turn’d⁠⸺⁠

—I had better take the red plush ones, quoth my uncle Toby⁠⸺⁠They will be too clumsy⁠—said the corporal.

XXIX

⸺⁠Thou wilt get a brush and a little chalk to my sword⁠⸺’Twill be only in your honour’s way, replied Trim.

XXX

⸺⁠But your honour’s two razors shall be new set⁠—and I will get my Montero-cap furbish’d up, and put on poor lieutenant Le Fever’s regimental coat, which your honour gave me to wear for his sake⁠—and as soon as your honour is clean shaved⁠—and has got your clean shirt on, with your blue and gold, or your fine scarlet⁠⸺⁠sometimes one and sometimes t’other⁠—and everything is ready for the attack⁠—we’ll march up boldly, as if ’twas to the face of a bastion; and whilst your honour engages Mrs. Wadman in the parlour, to the right⁠⸺⁠I’ll attack Mrs. Bridget in the kitchen, to the left; and having seiz’d the pass, I’ll answer for it, said the corporal, snapping his fingers over his head⁠—that the day is our own.

I wish I may but manage it right; said my uncle Toby⁠—but I declare, corporal, I had rather march up to the very edge of a trench⁠⸺⁠

—A woman is quite a different thing⁠—said the corporal.

—I suppose so, quoth my uncle Toby.

XXXI

If anything in this world, which my father said, could have provoked my uncle Toby, during the time he was in love, it was the perverse use my father was always making of an expression of Hilarion the hermit; who, in speaking of his abstinence, his watchings, flagellations, and other instrumental parts of his religion⁠—would say⁠—tho’ with more facetiousness than became an hermit⁠—“That they were the means he used, to make his ass (meaning his body) leave off kicking.”

It pleased my father well; it was not only a laconick way of expressing⁠⸺⁠but of libelling, at the same time, the desires and appetites of the lower part of us; so that for many years of my father’s life, ’twas his constant mode of expression⁠—he never used the word passions once⁠—but ass always instead of them⁠⸺⁠So that he might be said truly, to have been upon the bones, or the back of his own ass, or else of some other man’s, during all that time.

I must here observe to you the difference betwixt

My father’s ass

and my hobbyhorse⁠—in order to keep characters as separate as may be, in our fancies as we go along.

For my hobbyhorse, if you recollect a little, is no way a vicious beast; he has scarce one hair or lineament of the ass about him⁠⸺’Tis the sporting little filly-folly which carries you out for the present hour⁠—a maggot, a butterfly, a picture, a fiddlestick⁠—an uncle Toby’s siege⁠—or an anything, which a man makes a shift to get astride on, to canter it away from the cares and solicitudes of life⁠—’Tis as useful a beast as is in the whole creation⁠—nor do I really see how the world would do without it⁠⸺⁠

⸺⁠But for my father’s ass⁠⸻oh! mount him⁠—mount him⁠—mount him⁠—(that’s three times, is it not?)⁠—mount him not:⁠—’tis a beast concupiscent⁠—and foul befal the man, who does not hinder him from kicking.

XXXII

Well! dear brother Toby, said my father, upon his first seeing him after he fell in love⁠—and how goes it with your Asse?

Now my uncle Toby thinking more of the part where he had had the blister, than of Hilarion’s metaphor⁠—and our preconceptions having (you know) as great a power over the sounds of words as the shapes of things, he had imagined, that my father, who was not very ceremonious in his choice of words, had enquired after the part by its proper name; so notwithstanding my mother, doctor Slop, and Mr. Yorick, were sitting in the parlour, he thought it rather civil to conform to the term my father had made use of than not. When a man is hemm’d in by two indecorums, and must commit one of ’em⁠—I always observe⁠—let him choose which he will, the world will blame him⁠—so I should not be astonished if it blames my uncle Toby.

My A⁠⸺⁠e, quoth my uncle Toby, is much better⁠—brother Shandy⁠—My father had formed great expectations from his Asse in this onset; and would have brought him on again; but doctor Slop setting up an intemperate