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

after went to the house, yet he never met Bridget in the village, but he would either nod or wink, or smile, or look kindly at her⁠—or (as circumstances directed) he would shake her by the hand⁠—or ask her lovingly how she did⁠—or would give her a ribbon⁠—and now-and-then, though never but when it could be done with decorum, would give Bridget a⁠—

Precisely in this situation, did these things stand for five years; that is, from the demolition of Dunkirk in the year 13, to the latter end of my uncle Toby’s campaign in the year 18, which was about six or seven weeks before the time I’m speaking of.⁠⸺⁠When Trim, as his custom was, after he had put my uncle Toby to bed, going down one moonshiny night to see that everything was right at his fortifications⁠⸺⁠in the lane separated from the bowling-green with flowering shrubs and holly⁠—he espied his Bridget.

As the corporal thought there was nothing in the world so well worth showing as the glorious works which he and my uncle Toby had made, Trim courteously and gallantly took her by the hand, and led her in: this was not done so privately, but that the foul-mouth’d trumpet of Fame carried it from ear to ear, till at length it reach’d my father’s, with this untoward circumstance along with it, that my uncle Toby’s curious drawbridge, constructed and painted after the Dutch fashion, and which went quite across the ditch⁠—was broke down, and somehow or other crushed all to pieces that very night.

My father, as you have observed, had no great esteem for my uncle Toby’s hobbyhorse, he thought it the most ridiculous horse that ever gentleman mounted; and indeed unless my uncle Toby vexed him about it, could never think of it once, without smiling at it⁠⸺⁠so that it could never get lame or happen any mischance, but it tickled my father’s imagination beyond measure; but this being an accident much more to his humour than any one which had yet befall’n it, it proved an inexhaustible fund of entertainment to him.⁠⸺⁠Well⁠⸺⁠but dear Toby! my father would say, do tell me seriously how this affair of the bridge happened.⁠⸺⁠How can you tease me so much about it? my uncle Toby would reply⁠—I have told it you twenty times, word for word as Trim told it me.⁠—Prithee, how was it then, corporal? my father would cry, turning to Trim.⁠—It was a mere misfortune, an’ please your honour;⁠⸺⁠I was showing Mrs. Bridget our fortifications, and in going too near the edge of the fosse, I unfortunately slipp’d in⁠⸺⁠Very well, Trim! my father would cry⁠⸺(smiling mysteriously, and giving a nod⁠—but without interrupting him)⁠⸺⁠and being link’d fast, an’ please your honour, arm in arm with Mrs. Bridget, I dragg’d her after me, by means of which she fell backwards soss against the bridge⁠⸺⁠and Trim’s foot (my uncle Toby would cry, taking the story out of his mouth) getting into the cuvette, he tumbled full against the bridge too.⁠—It was a thousand to one, my uncle Toby would add, that the poor fellow did not break his leg.⁠⸻Ay truly, my father would say⁠⸺⁠a limb is soon broke, brother Toby, in such encounters.⁠⸺⁠And so, an’ please your honour, the bridge, which your honour knows was a very slight one, was broke down betwixt us, and splintered all to pieces.

At other times, but especially when my uncle Toby was so unfortunate as to say a syllable about cannons, bombs, or petards⁠—my father would exhaust all the stores of his eloquence (which indeed were very great) in a panegyric upon the battering-rams of the ancients⁠—the vinea which Alexander made use of at the siege of Troy.⁠—He would tell my uncle Toby of the catapultæ of the Syrians, which threw such monstrous stones so many hundred feet, and shook the strongest bulwarks from their very foundation:⁠—he would go on and describe the wonderful mechanism of the ballista which Marcellinus makes so much rout about!⁠—the terrible effects of the pyroboli, which cast fire;⁠⸺⁠the danger of the terebra and scorpio, which cast javelins.⁠⸺⁠But what are these, would he say, to the destructive machinery of corporal Trim?⁠⸺⁠Believe me, brother Toby, no bridge, or bastion, or sally-port, that ever was constructed in this world, can hold out against such artillery.

My uncle Toby would never attempt any defence against the force of this ridicule, but that of redoubling the vehemence of smoaking his pipe; in doing which, he raised so dense a vapour one night after supper, that it set my father, who was a little phthisical, into a suffocating fit of violent coughing: my uncle Toby leap’d up without feeling the pain upon his groin⁠—and, with infinite pity, stood beside his brother’s chair, tapping his back with one hand, and holding his head with the other, and from time to time wiping his eyes with a clean cambrick handkerchief, which he pulled out of his pocket.⁠⸺⁠The affectionate and endearing manner in which my uncle Toby did these little offices⁠—cut my father thro’ his reins, for the pain he had just been giving him.⁠⸺⁠May my brains be knock’d out with a battering-ram or a catapulta, I care not which, quoth my father to himself⁠—if ever I insult this worthy soul more!

XXV

The drawbridge being held irreparable, Trim was ordered directly to set about another⁠⸻but not upon the same model: for cardinal Alberoni’s intrigues at that time being discovered, and my uncle Toby rightly foreseeing that a flame would inevitably break out betwixt Spain and the Empire, and that the operations of the ensuing campaign must in all likelihood be either in Naples or Sicily⁠⸺⁠he determined upon an Italian bridge⁠—(my uncle Toby, by the by, was not far out of his conjectures)⁠⸺⁠but my father, who was infinitely the better politician, and took the lead as far of my uncle Toby in the cabinet, as my uncle Toby took it of him in the field⁠⸻convinced him, that if the king of Spain and the Emperor went together by the ears, England and France and Holland must, by force of their pre-engagements,