CHAPTER XXIV

Tho’ the shock my uncle _Toby_ received the year after the demolition of _Dunkirk_, in his affair with widow _Wadman_, had fixed him in a resolution never more to think of the sex--or of aught which belonged to it; --yet corporal _Trim_ had made no such bargain with himself. Indeed in my uncle _Toby’s_ case there was a strange and unaccountable concurrence of circumstances, which insensibly drew him in, to lay siege to that fair and strong citadel. ----In _Trim’s_ case there was a concurrence of nothing in the world, but of him and _Bridget_ in the kitchen; --though in truth, the love and veneration he bore his master was such, and so fond was he of imitating him in all he did, that had my uncle _Toby_ employed his time and genius in tagging of points ----I am persuaded the honest corporal would have laid down his arms, and followed his example with pleasure. When therefore my uncle _Toby_ sat down before the mistress--corporal _Trim_ incontinently took ground before the maid.

Now, my dear friend _Garrick_, whom I have so much cause to esteem and honour--(why, or wherefore, ’tis no matter)--can it escape your penetration --I defy it--that so many playwrights, and opificers of chit-chat have ever since been working upon _Trim’s_ and my uncle _Toby’s_ pattern. ----I care not what _Aristotle_, or _Pacuvius_, or _Bossu_, or _Ricaboni_ say--(though I never read one of them)----there is not a greater difference between a single-horse chair and madam _Pompadour’s_ _vis-à-vis_; than betwixt a single amour, and an amour thus nobly doubled, and going upon all four, prancing throughout a grand drama ----Sir, a simple, single, silly affair of that kind--is quite lost in five acts; --but that is neither here nor there.

After a series of attacks and repulses in a course of nine months on my uncle _Toby’s_ quarter, a most minute account of every particular of which shall be given in its proper place, my uncle _Toby_, honest man! found it necessary to draw off his forces and raise the siege somewhat indignantly.

Corporal _Trim_, as I said, had made no such bargain either with himself----or with any one else----the fidelity however of his heart not suffering him to go into a house which his master had forsaken with disgust----he contented himself with turning his part of the siege into a blockade; --that is, he kept others off; --for though he never after went to the house, yet he never met _Bridget_ in the village, but he would either nod or wink, or smile, or look kindly at her--or (as circumstances directed) he would shake her by the hand--or ask her lovingly how she did--or would give her a ribbon--and now-and-then, though never but when it could be done with decorum, would give _Bridget_ a--

Precisely in this situation, did these things stand for five years; that is, from the demolition of _Dunkirk_ in the year 13, to the latter end of my uncle _Toby’s_ campaign in the year 18, which was about six or seven weeks before the time I’m speaking of. ----When _Trim_, as his custom was, after he had put my uncle _Toby_ to bed, going down one moonshiny night to see that everything was right at his fortifications----in the lane separated from the bowling-green with flowering shrubs and holly--he espied his _Bridget_.

As the corporal thought there was nothing in the world so well worth shewing as the glorious works which he and my uncle _Toby_ had made, _Trim_ courteously and gallantly took her by the hand, and led her in: this was not done so privately, but that the foul-mouth’d trumpet of Fame carried it from ear to ear, till at length it reach’d my father’s, with this untoward circumstance along with it, that my uncle _Toby’s_ curious drawbridge, constructed and painted after the _Dutch_ fashion, and which went quite across the ditch--was broke down, and somehow or other crushed all to pieces that very night.

My father, as you have observed, had no great esteem for my uncle _Toby’s_ hobby-horse, he thought it the most ridiculous horse that ever gentleman mounted; and indeed unless my uncle _Toby_ vexed him about it, could never think of it once, without smiling at it----so that it could never get lame or happen any mischance, but it tickled my father’s imagination beyond measure; but this being an accident much more to his humour than any one which had yet befall’n it, it proved an inexhaustible fund of entertainment to him. ----Well----but dear _Toby!_ my father would say, do tell me seriously how this affair of the bridge happened. ----How can you tease me so much about it? my uncle _Toby_ would reply --I have told it you twenty times, word for word as _Trim_ told it me. --Prithee, how was it then, corporal? my father would cry, turning to _Trim_. --It was a mere misfortune, an’ please your honour; ----I was shewing Mrs. _Bridget_ our fortifications, and in going too near the edge of the fosse, I unfortunately slipp’d in ----Very well, _Trim!_ my father would cry----(smiling mysteriously, and giving a nod--but without interrupting him)----and being link’d fast, an’ please your honour, arm in arm with Mrs. _Bridget_, I dragg’d her after me, by means of which she fell backwards soss against the bridge----and _Trim’s_ foot (my uncle _Toby_ would cry, taking the story out of his mouth) getting into the cuvette, he tumbled full against the bridge too. --It was a thousand to one, my uncle _Toby_ would add, that the poor fellow did not break his leg. ------Ay truly, my father would say---- a limb is soon broke, brother _Toby_, in such encounters. ----And so, an’ please your honour, the bridge, which your honour knows was a very slight one, was broke down betwixt us, and splintered all to pieces.

At other times, but especially when my uncle _Toby_ was so unfortunate as to say a syllable about cannons, bombs, or petards--my father would exhaust all the stores of his eloquence (which indeed were very great) in a panegyric upon the BATTERING-RAMS of the ancients--the VINEA which _Alexander_ made use of at the siege of _Troy_. --He would tell my uncle _Toby_ of the CATAPULTÆ of the _Syrians_, which threw such monstrous stones so many hundred feet, and shook the strongest bulwarks from their very foundation: --he would go on and describe the wonderful mechanism of the BALLISTA which _Marcellinus_ makes so much rout about! --the terrible effects of the PYROBOLI, which cast fire; ----the danger of the TEREBRA and SCORPIO, which cast javelins. ----But what are these, would he say, to the destructive machinery of corporal _Trim?_ ----Believe me, brother _Toby_, no bridge, or bastion, or sally-port, that ever was constructed in this world, can hold out against such artillery.

My uncle _Toby_ would never attempt any defence against the force of this ridicule, but that of redoubling the vehemence of smoaking his pipe; in doing which, he raised so dense a vapour one night after supper, that it set my father, who was a little phthisical, into a suffocating fit of violent coughing: my uncle _Toby_ leap’d up without feeling the pain upon his groin--and, with infinite pity, stood beside his brother’s chair, tapping his back with one hand, and holding his head with the other, and from time to time wiping his eyes with a clean cambrick handkerchief, which he pulled out of his pocket. ----The affectionate and endearing manner in which my uncle _Toby_ did these little offices--cut my father thro’ his reins, for the pain he had just been giving him. ----May my brains be knock’d out with a battering-ram or a catapulta, I care not which, quoth my father to himself--if ever I insult this worthy soul more!

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