The life and opinions of Tristram Shandy, gentleman

Sir, was a Papist.—No matter; he had better have kept hold of the pummel.—He had so;—nay, as it happened, he had better have done nothing at all; for in crossing himself he let go his whip,——and in attempting to save his whip betwixt his knee and his saddle’s skirt, as it slipped, he lost his stirrup,——in losing which he lost his seat;——and in the multitude of all these losses (which, by the bye, shews what little advantage there is in crossing) the unfortunate doctor lost his presence of mind. So that without waiting for _Obadiah_’s onset, he left his pony to its destiny, tumbling off it diagonally, something in the stile and manner of a pack of wool, and without any other consequence from the fall, save that of being left (as it would have been) with the broadest part of him sunk about twelve inches deep in the mire. _Obadiah_ pull’d off his cap twice to Dr. _Slop_;—once as he was falling,—and then again when he saw him seated.——Ill-timed complaisance;—had not the fellow better have stopped his horse, and got off and help’d him?—Sir, he did all that his situation would allow;—but the MOMENTUM of the coach-horse was so great, that _Obadiah_ could not do it all at once; he rode in a circle three times round Dr. _Slop_, before he could fully accomplish it any how;—and at the last, when he did stop his beast, ’twas done with such an explosion of mud, that _Obadiah_ had better have been a league off. In short, never was a Dr. _Slop_ so beluted, and so transubstantiated, since that affair came into fashion. C H A P. XXXV WHEN Dr. _Slop_ entered the back parlour, where my father and my uncle _Toby_ were discoursing upon the nature of women,——it was hard to determine whether Dr. _Slop_’s figure, or Dr. _Slop_’s presence, occasioned more surprize to them; for as the accident happened so near the house, as not to make it worth while for _Obadiah_ to remount him,——_Obadiah_ had led him in as he was, _unwiped, unappointed, unannealed_, with all his stains and blotches on him.—He stood like _Hamlet_’s ghost, motionless and speechless, for a full minute and a half at the parlour-door (_Obadiah_ still holding his hand) with all the majesty of mud. His hinder parts, upon which he had received his fall, totally besmeared,——and in every other part of him, blotched over in such a manner with _Obadiah_’s explosion, that you would have sworn (without mental reservation) that every grain of it had taken effect. Here was a fair opportunity for my uncle _Toby_ to have triumphed over my father in his turn;—for no mortal, who had beheld Dr. _Slop_ in that pickle, could have dissented from so much, at least, of my uncle _Toby_’s opinion, “That mayhap his sister might not care to let such a Dr. _Slop_ come so near her ****” But it was the _Argumentum ad hominem_; and if my uncle _Toby_ was not very expert at it, you may think, he might not care to use it.——No; the reason was,—’twas not his nature to insult. Dr. _Slop_’s presence at that time, was no less problematical than the mode of it; tho’ it is certain, one moment’s reflexion in my father might have solved it; for he had apprized Dr. _Slop_ but the week before, that my mother was at her full reckoning; and as the doctor had heard nothing since, ’twas natural and very political too in him, to have taken a ride to _Shandy-Hall_, as he did, merely to see how matters went on. But my father’s mind took unfortunately a wrong turn in the investigation; running, like the hypercritick’s, altogether upon the ringing of the bell and the rap upon the door,—measuring their distance, and keeping his mind so intent upon the operation, as to have power to think of nothing else,——common-place infirmity of the greatest mathematicians! working with might and main at the demonstration, and so wasting all their strength upon it, that they have none left in them to draw the corollary, to do good with. The ringing of the bell, and the rap upon the door, struck likewise strong upon the sensorium of my uncle _Toby_,—but it excited a very different train of thoughts;—the two irreconcileable pulsations instantly brought _Stevinus_, the great engineer, along with them, into my uncle _Toby_’s mind. What business _Stevinus_ had in this affair,—is the greatest problem of all:——It shall be solved,—but not in the next chapter. C H A P. XXXVI WRITING, when properly managed (as you may be sure I think mine is) is but a different name for conversation. As no one, who knows what he is about in good company, would venture to talk all;——so no author, who understands the just boundaries of decorum and good-breeding, would presume to think all: The truest respect which you can pay to the reader’s understanding, is to halve this matter amicably, and leave him something to imagine, in his turn, as well as yourself. For my own part, I am eternally paying him compliments of this kind, and do all that lies in my power to keep his imagination as busy as my own. ’Tis his turn now;—I have given an ample description of Dr. _Slop_’s sad overthrow, and of his sad appearance in the back-parlour;—his imagination must now go on with it for a while. Let the reader imagine then, that Dr. _Slop_ has told his tale—and in what words, and with what aggravations, his fancy chooses;—Let him suppose, that _Obadiah_ has told his tale also, and with such rueful looks of affected concern, as he thinks best will contrast the two figures as they stand by each other.—Let him imagine, that my father has stepped up stairs to see my mother.—And, to conclude this work of imagination,—let him imagine the doctor washed,—rubbed down, and condoled,—felicitated,—got into a pair of _Obadiah_’s pumps, stepping forwards towards the door, upon the very point of entering upon action. Truce!—truce, good Dr. _Slop!_—stay thy obstetrick hand;——return it safe into thy bosom to keep it warm;——little dost thou know what obstacles,——little dost thou think what hidden causes, retard its operation!——Hast thou, Dr. _Slop_,—hast thou been entrusted with the secret articles of the solemn treaty which has brought thee into this place?—Art thou aware that at this instant, a daughter of _Lucina_ is put obstetrically over thy head? Alas!—’tis too true.—Besides, great son of _Pilumnus!_ what canst thou do? Thou hast come forth unarm’d;—thou hast left thy _tire-téte_,—thy new-invented _forceps_,—thy _crotchet_,—thy _squirt_, and all thy instruments of salvation and deliverance, behind thee,—By Heaven! at this moment they are hanging up in a green bays bag, betwixt thy two pistols, at the bed’s head!—Ring;—call;—send _Obadiah_ back upon the coach-horse to bring them with all speed. ——Make great haste, _Obadiah_, quoth my father, and I’ll give thee a crown! and quoth my uncle _Toby_, I’ll give him another. C H A P. XXXVII YOUR sudden and unexpected arrival, quoth my uncle _Toby_, addressing himself to Dr. _Slop_, (all three of them sitting down to the fire together, as my uncle _Toby_ began to speak)—instantly brought the great _Stevinus_ into my head, who, you must know, is a favourite author with me.—Then, added my father, making use of the argument _Ad Crumenam_,—I will lay twenty guineas to a single crown-piece (which will serve to give away to _Obadiah_ when he gets back) that this same _Stevinus_ was some engineer or other—or has wrote something or other, either directly or indirectly, upon the science of fortification. He has so,—replied my uncle _Toby._—I knew it, said my father, though, for the soul of me, I cannot see what kind of connection there can be betwixt Dr. _Slop_’s sudden coming, and a discourse upon fortification;—yet I fear’d it.—Talk of what we will, brother,——or let the occasion be never so foreign or unfit for the subject,—you are sure to bring it in. I would not, brother _Toby_, continued my father,——I declare I would not have my head so full of curtins and horn-works.—That I dare say you would not, quoth Dr. _Slop_, interrupting him, and laughing most immoderately at his pun. _Dennis_ the critic could not detest and abhor a pun, or the insinuation of a pun, more cordially than my father;—he would grow testy upon it at any time;—but to be broke in upon by one, in a serious discourse, was as bad, he would say, as a fillip upon the nose;——he saw no difference. Sir, quoth my uncle _Toby_, addressing himself to Dr. _Slop_,—the curtins my brother _Shandy_ mentions here, have nothing to do with beadsteads;—tho’, I know _Du Cange_ says, “That bed-curtains, in all probability, have taken their name from them;”—nor have the horn-works he speaks of, any thing in the world to do with the horn-works of cuckoldom: But the _Curtin_, Sir, is the word we use in fortification, for that part of the wall or rampart which lies between the two bastions and joins them—Besiegers seldom offer to carry on their attacks directly against the curtin, for this reason, because they are so well _flanked._ ( ’Tis the case of other curtains, quoth Dr. _Slop_, laughing.) However, continued my uncle _Toby_, to make them sure, we generally choose to place ravelins before them, taking care only to extend them beyond the fossé or ditch:——The common men, who know very little of fortification, confound the ravelin and the half-moon together,—tho’ they are very different things;—not in their figure or construction, for we make them exactly alike, in all points; for they always consist of two faces, making a salient angle, with the gorges, not straight, but in form of a crescent;——Where then lies the difference? (quoth my father, a little testily.)—In their situations, answered my uncle _Toby:_—For when a ravelin, brother, stands before the curtin, it is a ravelin; and when a ravelin stands before a bastion, then the ravelin is not a ravelin;—it is a half-moon;—a half-moon likewise is a half-moon, and no more, so long as it stands before its bastion;——but was it to change place, and get before the curtin,—’twould be no longer a half-moon; a half-moon, in that case, is not a half-moon;—’tis no more than a ravelin.——I think, quoth my father, that the noble science of defence has its weak sides——as well as others. —As for the horn-work (high! ho! sigh’d my father) which, continued my uncle _Toby_, my brother was speaking of, they are a very considerable part of an outwork;——they are called by the _French_ engineers, _Ouvrage à corne_, and we generally make them to cover such places as we suspect to be weaker than the rest;—’tis formed by two epaulments or demi-bastions—they are very pretty,—and if you will take a walk, I’ll engage to shew you one well worth your trouble.—I own, continued my uncle _Toby_, when we crown them,—they are much stronger, but then they are very expensive, and take up a great deal of ground, so that, in my opinion, they are most of use to cover or defend the head of a camp; otherwise the double tenaille—By the mother who bore us!——brother _Toby_, quoth my father, not able to hold out any longer,——you would provoke a saint;——here have you got us, I know not how, not only souse into the middle of the old subject again:—But so full is your head of these confounded works, that though my wife is this moment in the pains of labour, and you hear her cry out, yet nothing will serve you but to carry off the man-midwife.——_Accoucheur_,—if you please, quoth Dr. _Slop._—With all my heart, replied my father, I don’t care what they call you,—but I wish the whole science of fortification, with all its inventors, at the devil;—it has been the death of thousands,—and it will be mine in the end.—I would not, I would not, brother _Toby_, have my brains so full of saps, mines, blinds, gabions, pallisadoes, ravelins, half-moons, and such trumpery, to be proprietor of _Namur_, and of all the towns in _Flanders_ with it.