3 Books By Laurence Sterne - Laurence Sterne

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virtues which usually constitute the character of a man of honour and rectitude,--possessed one in a very eminent degree, which is seldom or never put into the catalogue; and that was a most extreme and unparallel'd modesty of nature;--though I correct the word nature, for this reason, that I may not prejudge a point which must shortly come to a hearing, and that is, Whether this modesty of his was natural or acquir'd.--Whichever way my uncle Toby came by it, 'twas nevertheless modesty in the truest sense of it; and that is, Madam, not in regard to words, for he was so unhappy as to have very little choice in them,--but to things;--and this kind of modesty so possessed him, and it arose to such a height in him, as almost to equal, if such a thing could be, even the modesty of a woman: That female nicety, Madam, and inward cleanliness of mind and fancy, in your sex, which makes you so much the awe of ours.

      You will imagine, Madam, that my uncle Toby had contracted all this from this very source;--that he had spent a great part of his time in converse with your sex, and that from a thorough knowledge of you, and the force of imitation which such fair examples render irresistible, he had acquired this amiable turn of mind.

      I wish I could say so,--for unless it was with his sister-in-law, my father's wife and my mother--my uncle Toby scarce exchanged three words with the sex in as many years;--no, he got it, Madam, by a blow.--A blow!--Yes, Madam, it was owing to a blow from a stone, broke off by a ball from the parapet of a horn-work at the siege of Namur, which struck full upon my uncle Toby's groin.--Which way could that effect it? The story of that, Madam, is long and interesting;--but it would be running my history all upon heaps to give it you here.--'Tis for an episode hereafter; and every circumstance relating to it, in its proper place, shall be faithfully laid before you:--'Till then, it is not in my power to give farther light into this matter, or say more than what I have said already,--That my uncle Toby was a gentleman of unparallel'd modesty, which happening to be somewhat subtilized and rarified by the constant heat of a little family pride,--they both so wrought together within him, that he could never bear to hear the affair of my aunt Dinah touch'd upon, but with the greatest emotion.--The least hint of it was enough to make the blood fly into his face;--but when my father enlarged upon the story in mixed companies, which the illustration of his hypothesis frequently obliged him to do,--the unfortunate blight of one of the fairest branches of the family, would set my uncle Toby's honour and modesty o'bleeding; and he would often take my father aside, in the greatest concern imaginable, to expostulate and tell him, he would give him any thing in the world, only to let the story rest.

      My father, I believe, had the truest love and tenderness for my uncle Toby, that ever one brother bore towards another, and would have done any thing in nature, which one brother in reason could have desir'd of another, to have made my uncle Toby's heart easy in this, or any other point. But this lay out of his power.

      --My father, as I told you was a philosopher in grain,--speculative,--systematical;--and my aunt Dinah's affair was a matter of as much consequence to him, as the retrogradation of the planets to Copernicus:--The backslidings of Venus in her orbit fortified the Copernican system, called so after his name; and the backslidings of my aunt Dinah in her orbit, did the same service in establishing my father's system, which, I trust, will for ever hereafter be called the Shandean System, after his.

      In any other family dishonour, my father, I believe, had as nice a sense of shame as any man whatever;--and neither he, nor, I dare say, Copernicus, would have divulged the affair in either case, or have taken the least notice of it to the world, but for the obligations they owed, as they thought, to truth.--Amicus Plato, my father would say, construing the words to my uncle Toby, as he went along, Amicus Plato; that is, Dinah was my aunt;--sed magis amica veritas--but Truth is my sister.

      This contrariety of humours betwixt my father and my uncle, was the source of many a fraternal squabble. The one could not bear to hear the tale of family disgrace recorded,--and the other would scarce ever let a day pass to an end without some hint at it.

      For God's sake, my uncle Toby would cry,--and for my sake, and for all our sakes, my dear brother Shandy,--do let this story of our aunt's and her ashes sleep in peace;--how can you,--how can you have so little feeling and compassion for the character of our family?--What is the character of a family to an hypothesis? my father would reply.--Nay, if you come to that--what is the life of a family?--The life of a family!--my uncle Toby would say, throwing himself back in his arm chair, and lifting up his hands, his eyes, and one leg--Yes, the life,--my father would say, maintaining his point. How many thousands of 'em are there every year that come cast away, (in all civilized countries at least)--and considered as nothing but common air, in competition of an hypothesis. In my plain sense of things, my uncle Toby would answer,--every such instance is downright Murder, let who will commit it.--There lies your mistake, my father would reply;--for, in Foro Scientiae there is no such thing as Murder,--'tis only Death, brother.

      My uncle Toby would never offer to answer this by any other kind of argument, than that of whistling half a dozen bars of Lillebullero.--You must know it was the usual channel thro' which his passions got vent, when any thing shocked or surprized him:--but especially when any thing, which he deem'd very absurd, was offered.

      As not one of our logical writers, nor any of the commentators upon them, that I remember, have thought proper to give a name to this particular species of argument.--I here take the liberty to do it myself, for two reasons. First, That, in order to prevent all confusion in disputes, it may stand as much distinguished for ever, from every other species of argument--as the Argumentum ad Verecundiam, ex Absurdo, ex Fortiori, or any other argument whatsoever:--And, secondly, That it may be said by my children's children, when my head is laid to rest,--that their learn'd grandfather's head had been busied to as much purpose once, as other people's;--That he had invented a name, and generously thrown it into the Treasury of the Ars Logica, for one of the most unanswerable arguments in the whole science. And, if the end of disputation is more to silence than convince,--they may add, if they please, to one of the best arguments too.

      I do, therefore, by these presents, strictly order and command, That it be known and distinguished by the name and title of the Argumentum Fistulatorium, and no other;--and that it rank hereafter with the Argumentum Baculinum and the Argumentum ad Crumenam, and for ever hereafter be treated of in the same chapter.

      As for the Argumentum Tripodium, which is never used but by the woman against the man;--and the Argumentum ad Rem, which, contrarywise, is made use of by the man only against the woman;--As these two are enough in conscience for one lecture;--and, moreover, as the one is the best answer to the other,--let them likewise be kept apart, and be treated of in a place by themselves.

      Chapter 1.XXII.

      The learned Bishop Hall, I mean the famous Dr. Joseph Hall, who was Bishop of Exeter in King James the First's reign, tells us in one of Decads, at the end of his divine art of meditation, imprinted at London, in the year 1610, by John Beal, dwelling in Aldersgate-street, 'That it is an abominable thing for a man to commend himself;'--and I really think it is so.

      And yet, on the other hand, when a thing is executed in a masterly kind of a fashion, which thing is not likely to be found out;--I think it is full as abominable, that a man should lose the honour of it, and go out of the world with the conceit of it rotting in his head.

      This is precisely my situation.

      For in this long digression which I was accidentally led into, as in all my digressions (one only excepted) there is a master-stroke of digressive skill, the merit of which has all along, I fear, been over-looked by my reader,--not for want of penetration in him,--but because 'tis an excellence seldom looked for, or expected indeed, in a digression;--and it is this: That tho' my digressions are all fair, as you observe,--and that I fly off from what I am about, as far, and as often too, as any writer in Great Britain; yet I constantly take care to order affairs so that my main business does not stand still in my absence.

      I was just going, for example, to have given you the great out-lines of my uncle Toby's most whimsical character;--when my aunt Dinah and the coachman came across us, and led us a vagary some millions of miles into the very heart of the planetary system: Notwithstanding all this, you perceive that the drawing of

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