3 Books By Laurence Sterne. Laurence Sterne
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it as he began his sentence;--I think, replied he,--it would not be amiss, brother, if we rung the bell.
Pray, what's all that racket over our heads, Obadiah?--quoth my father;--my brother and I can scarce hear ourselves speak.
Sir, answered Obadiah, making a bow towards his left shoulder,--my Mistress is taken very badly.--And where's Susannah running down the garden there, as if they were going to ravish her?--Sir, she is running the shortest cut into the town, replied Obadiah, to fetch the old midwife.--Then saddle a horse, quoth my father, and do you go directly for Dr. Slop, the man-midwife, with all our services,--and let him know your mistress is fallen into labour--and that I desire he will return with you with all speed.
It is very strange, says my father, addressing himself to my uncle Toby, as Obadiah shut the door,--as there is so expert an operator as Dr. Slop so near,--that my wife should persist to the very last in this obstinate humour of hers, in trusting the life of my child, who has had one misfortune already, to the ignorance of an old woman;--and not only the life of my child, brother,--but her own life, and with it the lives of all the children I might, peradventure, have begot out of her hereafter.
Mayhap, brother, replied my uncle Toby, my sister does it to save the expence:--A pudding's end,--replied my father,--the Doctor must be paid the same for inaction as action,--if not better,--to keep him in temper.
--Then it can be out of nothing in the whole world, quoth my uncle Toby, in the simplicity of his heart,--but Modesty.--My sister, I dare say, added he, does not care to let a man come so near her.... I will not say whether my uncle Toby had completed the sentence or not;--'tis for his advantage to suppose he had,--as, I think, he could have added no One Word which would have improved it.
If, on the contrary, my uncle Toby had not fully arrived at the period's end--then the world stands indebted to the sudden snapping of my father's tobacco-pipe for one of the neatest examples of that ornamental figure in oratory, which Rhetoricians stile the Aposiopesis.--Just Heaven! how does the Poco piu and the Poco meno of the Italian artists;--the insensible more or less, determine the precise line of beauty in the sentence, as well as in the statue! How do the slight touches of the chisel, the pencil, the pen, the fiddle-stick, et caetera,--give the true swell, which gives the true pleasure!--O my countrymen:--be nice; be cautious of your language; and never, O! never let it be forgotten upon what small particles your eloquence and your fame depend.
--'My sister, mayhap,' quoth my uncle Toby, 'does not choose to let a man come so near her....' Make this dash,--'tis an Aposiopesis,--Take the dash away, and write Backside,--'tis Bawdy.--Scratch Backside out, and put Cover'd way in, 'tis a Metaphor;--and, I dare say, as fortification ran so much in my uncle Toby's head, that if he had been left to have added one word to the sentence,--that word was it.
But whether that was the case or not the case;--or whether the snapping of my father's tobacco-pipe, so critically, happened through accident or anger, will be seen in due time.
Chapter 1.XXXII.
Tho' my father was a good natural philosopher,--yet he was something of a moral philosopher too; for which reason, when his tobacco-pipe snapp'd short in the middle,--he had nothing to do, as such, but to have taken hold of the two pieces, and thrown them gently upon the back of the fire.--He did no such thing;--he threw them with all the violence in the world;--and, to give the action still more emphasis,--he started upon both his legs to do it.
This looked something like heat;--and the manner of his reply to what my uncle Toby was saying, proved it was so.
--'Not choose,' quoth my father, (repeating my uncle Toby's words) 'to let a man come so near her!'--By Heaven, brother Toby! you would try the patience of Job;--and I think I have the plagues of one already without it.--Why?--Where?--Wherein?--Wherefore?--Upon what account? replied my uncle Toby: in the utmost astonishment.--To think, said my father, of a man living to your age, brother, and knowing so little about women!--I know nothing at all about them,--replied my uncle Toby: And I think, continued he, that the shock I received the year after the demolition of Dunkirk, in my affair with widow Wadman;--which shock you know I should not have received, but from my total ignorance of the sex,--has given me just cause to say, That I neither know nor do pretend to know any thing about 'em or their concerns either.--Methinks, brother, replied my father, you might, at least, know so much as the right end of a woman from the wrong.
It is said in Aristotle's Master Piece, 'That when a man doth think of any thing which is past,--he looketh down upon the ground;--but that when he thinketh of something that is to come, he looketh up towards the heavens.'
My uncle Toby, I suppose, thought of neither, for he look'd horizontally.--Right end! quoth my uncle Toby, muttering the two words low to himself, and fixing his two eyes insensibly as he muttered them, upon a small crevice, formed by a bad joint in the chimney-piece--Right end of a woman!--I declare, quoth my uncle, I know no more which it is than the man in the moon;--and if I was to think, continued my uncle Toby (keeping his eyes still fixed upon the bad joint) this month together, I am sure I should not be able to find it out.
Then, brother Toby, replied my father, I will tell you.
Every thing in this world, continued my father (filling a fresh pipe)--every thing in this world, my dear brother Toby, has two handles.--Not always, quoth my uncle Toby.--At least, replied my father, every one has two hands,--which comes to the same thing.--Now, if a man was to sit down coolly, and consider within himself the make, the shape, the construction, come-at-ability, and convenience of all the parts which constitute the whole of that animal, called Woman, and compare them analogically--I never understood rightly the meaning of that word,--quoth my uncle Toby.--
Analogy, replied my father, is the certain relation and agreement which different--Here a devil of a rap at the door snapped my father's definition (like his tobacco-pipe) in two,--and, at the same time, crushed the head of as notable and curious a dissertation as ever was engendered in the womb of speculation;--it was some months before my father could get an opportunity to be safely delivered of it:--And, at this hour, it is a thing full as problematical as the subject of the dissertation itself,--(considering the confusion and distresses of our domestick misadventures, which are now coming thick one upon the back of another) whether I shall be able to find a place for it in the third volume or not.
Chapter 1.XXXIII.
It is about an hour and a half's tolerable good reading since my uncle Toby rung the bell, when Obadiah was ordered to saddle a horse, and go for Dr. Slop, the man-midwife;--so that no one can say, with reason, that I have not allowed Obadiah time enough, poetically speaking, and considering the emergency too, both to go and come;--though, morally and truly speaking, the man perhaps has scarce had time to get on his boots.
If the hypercritick will go upon this; and is resolved after all to take a pendulum, and measure the true distance betwixt the ringing of the bell, and the rap at the door;--and, after finding it to be no more than two minutes, thirteen seconds, and three-fifths,--should take upon him to insult over me for such a breach in the unity, or rather probability of time;--I would remind him, that the idea of duration, and of its simple modes, is got merely from the train and succession of our ideas--and is the true scholastic pendulum,--and by which, as a scholar, I will be tried in this matter,--abjuring and detesting the jurisdiction of all other pendulums whatever.
I would therefore desire him to consider that it is but poor eight miles from Shandy-Hall to Dr. Slop, the man-midwife's house:--and that whilst Obadiah has been going those said miles and back, I have brought my uncle Toby from Namur, quite across all Flanders, into England:--That I have had him ill upon my hands near four years;--and have since travelled him and Corporal Trim in a chariot-and-four, a journey of near two hundred miles down into Yorkshire.--all which put together, must have prepared the reader's imagination for the entrance of Dr. Slop upon the stage,--as much, at least (I hope) as a dance, a song, or a concerto between the acts.
If my hypercritick is intractable, alledging, that two minutes and thirteen seconds are no more than two minutes and thirteen seconds,--when I have said all I can about