“A Devil ’tis——and mischief such doth work
As never yet did Pagan, Jew, or Turk.”5
In short, during the whole paroxism, my father was all abuse and foul language, approaching rather towards malediction——only he did not do it with as much method as Ernulphus——he was too impetuous; nor with Ernulphus’s policy——for tho’ my father, with the most intolerant spirit, would curse both this and that, and every thing under heaven, which was either aiding or abetting to his love——yet never concluded his chapter of curses upon it, without cursing himself in at the bargain, as one of the most egregious fools and coxcombs, he would say, that ever was let loose in the world.
My uncle Toby, on the contrary, took it like a lamb——sat still and let the poison work in his veins without resistance——in the sharpest exacerbations of his wound (like that on his groin) he never dropt one fretful or discontented word——he blamed neither heaven nor earth——or thought or spoke an injurious thing of any body, or any part of it; he sat solitary and pensive with his pipe——looking at his lame leg——then whiffing out a sentimental heigh ho! which mixing with the smoke, incommoded no one mortal.
He took it like a lamb——I say. 427
In truth he had mistook it at first; for having taken a ride with my father, that very morning, to save if possible a beautiful wood, which the dean and chapter were hewing down to give to the poor;6 which said wood being in full view of my uncle Toby’s house, and of singular service to him in his description of the battle of Wynnendale—by trotting on too hastily to save it——upon an uneasy saddle——worse horse, &c. &c. . . it had so happened, that the serous part of the blood had got betwixt the two skins, in the nethermost part of my uncle Toby——the first shootings of which (as my uncle Toby had no experience of love) he had taken for a part of the passion—till the blister breaking in the one case—and the other remaining—my uncle Toby was presently convinced, that his wound was not a skin-deep wound——but that it had gone to his heart.
CHAPTER XXVII
The world is ashamed of being virtuous——My uncle Toby knew little of the world; and therefore when he felt he was in love with widow Wadman, he had no conception that the thing was any more to be made a mystery of, than if Mrs. Wadman had given him a cut with a gap’d knife across his finger: Had it been otherwise——yet as he ever look’d upon Trim as a humble friend; and saw fresh reasons every day of his life, to treat him as such——it would have made no variation in the manner in which he informed him of the affair.
“I am in love, corporal!” quoth my uncle Toby.
CHAPTER XXVIII
In love!——said the corporal—your honour was very well the day before yesterday, when I was telling your honour the story of the King of Bohemia—Bohemia! said my uncle Toby - - - - musing a long time - - - What became of that story, Trim?
—We lost it, an’ please your honour, somehow betwixt us—but your honour was as free from love then, as I am——’twas just whilst thou went’st off with the wheel-barrow——with Mrs. Wadman, quoth my uncle Toby——She has left a ball here—added my uncle Toby—pointing to his breast—— 428
——She can no more, an’ please your honour, stand a siege, than she can fly—cried the corporal——
——But as we are neighbours, Trim,—the best way I think is to let her know it civilly first—quoth my uncle Toby.
Now if I might presume, said the corporal, to differ from your honour——
—Why else do I talk to thee, Trim? said my uncle Toby, mildly——
—Then I would begin, an’ please your honour, with making a good thundering attack upon her, in return—and telling her civilly afterwards—for if she knows anything of your honour’s being in love, before hand——L—d help her!—she knows no more at present of it, Trim, said my uncle Toby—than the child unborn———
Precious souls!———
Mrs. Wadman had told it, with all its circumstances, to Mrs. Bridget twenty-four hours before; and was at that very moment sitting in 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 a-kimbo, 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. 429
Then, an’ please your honour, said the corporal (making a bow first for his commission)—we will begin with getting your honour’s laced cloaths 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 taylor, 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.
CHAPTER XXIX
——Thou wilt get a brush and a little chalk to my sword——’Twill be only in your honour’s way, replied Trim.
CHAPTER 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.