The life and opinions of Tristram Shandy, gentleman
_Toby_ sat in expectation of himself——after a hum and a haw, he went
on——
The King of _Bohemia_, an’ please your honour, replied the corporal,
was _unfortunate_, as thus——That taking great pleasure and delight in
navigation and all sort of sea affairs——and there _happening_
throughout the whole kingdom of _Bohemia_, to be no sea-port town
whatever——
How the duce should there—_Trim?_ cried my uncle _Toby;_ for _Bohemia_
being totally inland, it could have happen’d no otherwise——It might,
said _Trim_, if it had pleased God——
My uncle _Toby_ never spoke of the being and natural attributes of God,
but with diffidence and hesitation——
——I believe not, replied my uncle _Toby_, after some pause—for being
inland, as I said, and having _Silesia_ and _Moravia_ to the east;
_Lusatia_ and _Upper Saxony_ to the north; _Franconia_ to the west; and
_Bavaria_ to the south; _Bohemia_ could not have been propell’d to the
sea without ceasing to be _Bohemia_——nor could the sea, on the other
hand, have come up to _Bohemia_, without overflowing a great part of
_Germany_, and destroying millions of unfortunate inhabitants who could
make no defence against it——Scandalous! cried _Trim_—Which would
bespeak, added my uncle _Toby_, mildly, such a want of compassion in
him who is the father of it——that, I think, _Trim_——the thing could
have happen’d no way.
The corporal made the bow of unfeign’d conviction; and went on.
Now the King of _Bohemia_ with his queen and courtiers _happening_ one
fine summer’s evening to walk out——Aye! there the word _happening_ is
right, _Trim_, cried my uncle _Toby;_ for the King of _Bohemia_ and his
queen might have walk’d out or let it alone:——’twas a matter of
contingency, which might happen, or not, just as chance ordered it.
King _William_ was of an opinion, an’ please your honour, quoth _Trim_,
that every thing was predestined for us in this world; insomuch, that
he would often say to his soldiers, that “every ball had its billet.”
He was a great man, said my uncle _Toby_——And I believe, continued
_Trim_, to this day, that the shot which disabled me at the battle of
_Landen_, was pointed at my knee for no other purpose, but to take me
out of his service, and place me in your honour’s, where I should be
taken so much better care of in my old age——It shall never, _Trim_, be
construed otherwise, said my uncle _Toby._
The heart, both of the master and the man, were alike subject to sudden
over-flowings;——a short silence ensued.
Besides, said the corporal, resuming the discourse—but in a gayer
accent——if it had not been for that single shot, I had never, ’an
please your honour, been in love——
So, thou wast once in love, _Trim!_ said my uncle _Toby_, smiling——
Souse! replied the corporal—over head and ears! an’ please your honour.
Prithee when? where?—and how came it to pass?—I never heard one word of
it before; quoth my uncle _Toby:_——I dare say, answered _Trim_, that
every drummer and serjeant’s son in the regiment knew of it——It’s high
time I should——said my uncle _Toby._
Your honour remembers with concern, said the corporal, the total rout
and confusion of our camp and army at the affair of _Landen;_ every one
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 _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 any thing 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 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.
C H A P. XLIV
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 shew
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 purse—I’ll be
your banker—but as that office alone will not keep me employ’d, I’ll be
your nurse too.
I thought by her manner of speaking this, as well as by her dress,
which I then began to consider more attentively——that the young woman
could not be the daughter of the peasant.
She was in black down to her toes, with her hair conceal’d under a
cambric border, laid close to her forehead: she was one of those kind
of nuns, an’ please your honour, of which, your honour knows, there are
a good many in _Flanders_, which they let go loose——By thy description,
_Trim_, said my uncle _Toby_, I dare say she was a young _Beguine_, of
which there are none to be found any where but in the _Spanish
Netherlands_—except at _Amsterdam_——they differ from nuns in this, that
they can quit their cloister if they choose to marry; they visit and
take care of the sick by profession——I had rather, for my own part,
they did it out of good-nature.
——She often told me, quoth _Trim_, she did it for the love of Christ—I
did not like it.——I believe, _Trim_, we are both wrong, said my uncle
_Toby_—we’ll ask Mr. _Yorick_ about it to-night at my brother
_Shandy_’s——so put me in mind; added my uncle _Toby._
The young _Beguine_, continued the corporal, had scarce given herself
time to tell me “she would be my nurse,” when she hastily turned about
to begin the office of one, and prepare something for me——and in a
short time—though I thought it a long one—she came back with flannels,
&c. &c. and having fomented my knee soundly for a couple of hours, &c.
and made me a thin bason of gruel for my supper—she wish’d me rest, and
promised to be with me early in the morning.——She wish’d me, an’ please
your honour, what was not to be had. My fever ran very high that
night—her figure made sad disturbance within me—I was every moment
cutting the world in two—to give her half of it—and every moment was I
crying, That I had nothing but a knapsack and eighteen florins to share
with her——The whole night long was the fair _Beguine_, like an angel,
close by my bed-side, holding back my curtain and offering me
cordials—and I was only awakened from my dream by her coming there at
the hour promised, and giving them in reality. In truth, she was scarce
ever from me; and so accustomed was I to receive life from her hands,
that my heart sickened, and I lost colour when she left the room: and
yet, continued the corporal (making one of the strangest reflections
upon it in the world)——
——“_It was not love_”——for during the three weeks she was almost
constantly with me, fomenting my knee with her hand, night and day—I
can honestly say, an’ please your honour—that * * * * * * * * * * * * *
* * * * once.
That was very odd, _Trim_, quoth my uncle _Toby._
I think so too—said Mrs. _Wadman._
It never did, said the corporal.
C H A P. XLV
——But ’tis no marvel, continued the corporal—seeing my uncle _Toby_
musing upon it—for Love, an’ please your honour, is exactly like war,
in this; that a soldier, though he has escaped three weeks complete
o’_Saturday_ night,—may nevertheless be shot through his heart on