be a shorter and safer cut still; on condition, as above, that if the HOMUNCULI do well, and come safe into the world after this, that each and every of them shall be baptized again (sous condition)and provided, in the second place, that the thing can be done, which Mr Shandy apprehends it may, par le moyen d'une petite canulle, and sans faire aucun tort au pere!

It is a terrible misfortune for this same book of mine, but more so to the Republic of Letters; -so that my own is quite swallowed up in the consideration of it,-that this self-same vile pruriency for fresh adventures in all things, has got so strongly into our habit and humour, and so wholly intent are we upon satisfying the impatience of our concupiscence that way,-that nothing but the gross and more carnal parts of a composition will go down :-the subtile hints and sly communications of science fly off, like spirits upwards,- -the heavy moral escapes downwards; and both the one and the other are as much lost to the world, as if they were still left in the bottom of the ink-horn.

I wish the male-reader has not passed by many a one, as quaint and curious as this one, in which the female-reader has been detected. I wish it may have its effects;-and that all good people, both male and female, from examnple, may be taught to think as well as read.

I think, replied my uncle Toby, taking his pipe from his mouth, and striking the head of it two or three times upon the nail of his left thumb, as he began his sentence,-I think, says he-But to enter rightly into my uncle Toby's sentiments upon this matter, you must be made to enter first a little into his character, the outlines of which I shall just give you, and then the dialogue between him and my father will go on as well again.

-Pray what was that man's name, for I write in such a hurry, I have no time to recollect or look for it,-who first made the observation, "That there was great inconsistency in our air and climate?" Whoever he was, it was a just and good observation in him.But the corollary drawn from it, namely, "That it is this which has furnished us with such a variety

of odd and whimsical characters ;"—that was not his ;-it was found out by another man, at least a century and a half after himThen again,-that this copious storehouse of original materials, is the true and natural cause that our comedies are so much better than those of France, or any others that either have, or can be, wrote upon the continent;-that discovery was not fully made till about the middle of King William's reign,-when the great Dryden, in writing one of his long prefaces (if I mistake not,) most fortunately hit upon it. Indeed towards the latter end of Queen Anne, the great Addison began to patronize the notion, and more fully explained it to the world in one or two of his Spectators ;— -but the discovery was not his.-Then, fourthly and lastly, that this strange irregularity in our climate, producing so strange an irregularity in our characters,

doth thereby, in some sort, make us amends, by giving us somewhat to make us merry with when the weather will not suffer us to go out of doors,-that observation is my own; and was struck out by me this very rainy day, March, 26, 1759, and betwixt the hours of nine and ten in the morning.

Thus, thus, my fellow-labourers and associates in this great harvest of our learning now ripening before our eyes; thus it is, by slow steps of casual increase, that our knowledge, physical, metaphysical, physiological, polemical, nautical, mathematical, enigmatical, technical, biographical, romantical, chemical, and obstetrical, with fifty other branches of it, (most of them ending, as these do, in ical) have, for these two last centuries and more, gradually been creeping upwards towards that 'Ax of their perfections, from which, if we may form a conjecture from the advances of these last seven years, we cannot possibly be far off.

When that happens, it is to be hoped, it will put an end to all kind of writings whatsoever:

the want of all kind of writing will put an end to all kind of reading; and that, in time, as war begets poverty; poverty peace-must, in course, put an end to all kind of knowledge,— and then- -we shall have all to begin over again; or, in other words, be exactly where we started.

-Happy! thrice happy times! I only wish that the era of my begetting, as well as the mode and manner of it, had been a little altered, or that it could have been put off with any convenience to my father or mother, for some twenty or five-and-twenty years longer, when a man in the literary world might have stood some chance.

But I forget my uncle Toby, whom all this while we have left knocking the ashes out of his tobacco-pipe.

His humour was of that particular species, which does honour to our atmosphere; and I should have made no scruple of ranking him

amongst one of the first-rate productions of it, had not there appeared too many strong lines in it of a family-likeness, which shewed, that he derived the singularity of his temper more from blood, than either wind or water, or any modifications or combinations of them whatever; And I have, therefore, oft-times wondered, that my father, though I believe he had his reasons for it, upon his observing some tokens of eccentricity in my course when I was a boy,-should never once endeavour to account for them in this way; for all the SHANDY FAMILY were of an original character throughout,-I mean the males;-the females had no character at all, -except, indeed, my great aunt DINAH, who, about sixty years ago, was married and got with child by the coachman, for which my father, according to his hypothesis of Christian names, would often say, She might thank her godfathers and godmothers.

Pos

It will seem very strange, and I would as, soon think of dropping a riddle in the reader's way, which is not my interest to do, as set him upon guessing how it could come to pass, that an event of this kind, so many years after it had happened, should be reserved for the interruption of the peace and unity, which otherwise so cordially subsisted between my father and my uncle Toby. One would have thought, that the whole force of the misfortune should have spent and wasted itself in the family at first, as is generally the case:- -But nothing ever wrought with our family after the ordinary way. sibly at the very time this happened, it might have something else to afflict it; and as afflictions are sent down for our good, and that as this had never done the SHANDY FAMILY any good at all, it might lie waiting till apt times and circumstances should give it an opportunity to discharge its office.- -Observe, I determine nothing upon this. -My way is ever to point out to the curious, different tracts of investigation, to come at the first springs of the events I tell:not with a pedantic Fescue, or in the decisive manner of Tacitus, who outwits himself and his reader; but with the officious humility of a heart devoted to the assistance merely of the inquisitive;to them I write, -and by them I shall be read, if any such reading as this could be supposed to hold out so long, to the very end of the world.

Why this cause of sorrow, therefore, was thus reserved for my father and uncle, is undetermined by me. But how, and in what direction it exerted itself, so as to become the cause of dissatisfaction between them, after it began to operate, is what I am able to explain with great exactness, and is as follows:

My uncle TOBY SHANDY, madam, was a gentleman, who, with the 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 unparalleled 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 acquired.- -Whichever way my uncle Toby came by it, it was 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 ;he got it, madam, by a blow.A blow!

-no,

-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 further light into this matter, or say more than what I have said already, that my uncle Toby was a gentleman of unparalleled modesty, which happening to be somewhat subtilized and rarefied by the constant heat of a little family pride,

-but

they both so wrought together within him, that he could never bear to hear the affair of my aunt DINAH touched upon, but with the greatest emotion.The least hint of it was enough to make the blood fly into his face ;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 a-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 desired of another, to have made my uncle Toby's heart easy in this or any other point. But this lay out of his power.

pher in

My father, as I told you, was a philosograin,-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 comes, 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 Scientia 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 Lillabullero.

-You must know it was the usual channel through which his passions got vent, when any thing shocked or surprised him ;-but

especially when any thing which he deemed 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 learned grandfather's head had been busied toas 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 to 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, contrariwise, 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.

CHAP. 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 his Decades, at the end of his Divine Art of Meditation, imprinted in London in the year 1610, by John Beal, dwelling in Aldersgatestreet, "That it is an abominable thing for a man to commend himself;" and really I 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 di

gressive skill, the merit of which has all along, I fear, been overlooked by my reader, not for want of penetration in him, but because it is an excellence seldom looked for, or expected indeed, in a digression;-and it is this; That though 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 outlines 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 my uncle Toby's character went on gently all the time;not the great contours of it,—that was impossible, but some familiar strokes and faint designations of it, were here and there touched on, as we went along, so that you are much better acquainted with my uncle Toby now than you was before.

By this contrivance, the machinery of my work is of a species by itself; two contrary motions are introduced into it, and reconciled, which were thought to be at variance with each other. In a word, my work is digressive, and it is progressive too-and at the same time. This, sir, is a very different story from that of the earth's moving round her axis, in her diurnal rotation, with her progress in her elliptic orbit, which brings about the year, and constitutes that variety and vicissitude of seasons we enjoy; though I own it suggested the thought, as I believe the greatest of our boast ed improvements and discoveries have come from such trifling hints.

Digressions, incontestibly, are the sunshine, they are the life, the soul of reading:take them out of this book, for instance, you might as well take the book along with them one cold eternal winter would reign in every page of it: restore them to the writer, he steps forth like a bridegroom,-bids All hail; brings in variety, and forbids the appetite to fail.

All the dexterity is in the good cookery and management of them, so as to be not only for the advantage of the reader, but also of the author, whose distress in this matter is truly pitiable: For, if he begins a digression,-from that moment, I observe, his whole work stands stock still;and, if he goes on with his main work, then there is an end of his digres

sion.

This is vile work. -For which reason, from the beginning of this, you see, I have constructed the main work and the adventitious parts of it with such intersections, and have so complicated and involved the digressive and progressive movements, one wheel

within another, that the whole machine, in general, has been kept a-going;- -and, what's more, it shall be kept a-going these forty years, if it pleases the Fountain of health to bless me so long with life and good spirits.

CHAP. XXIII.

I HAVE a strong propensity in me to begin this chapter very nonsensically, and I will not baulk my fancy.- -Accordingly I set off thus.

If the fixture of Momus's glass in the human breast, according to the proposed emendation of that arch-critic, had taken place,-first, This foolish consequence would certainly have followed, That the very wisest and very gravest of us all, in one coin or other, must have paid window-money every day of our lives.

And, secondly, That had the said glass been there set up, nothing more would have been wanting, in order to have taken a man's character, but to have taken a chair and gone softly, as you would to a dioptrical bee-hive, and looked in,-viewed the soul stark-naked ;observed all her motions,her machinations; traced all her maggots, from their first engendering to their crawling forth;-watched her loose in her frisks, her gambols, her capricios; and, after some notice of her more solemn deportment, consequent upon such frisks, &c.

-then taken your pen and ink, and set down nothing but what you had seen, and could have sworn to:- -But this is an advantage not to be had by the biographer in this planet; in the planet Mercury (belike) it may be so; if not, better still for him:- -for there the intense heat of the country, which is proved by computators, from its vicinity to the sun, to be more than equal to that of red-hot iron,must, I think, long ago have vitrified the bodies of the inhabitants (as the efficient cause,) to suit them for the climate (which is the final cause ;) so that, betwixt them both, all the tenements of their souls, from top to bottom, may be nothing else, for aught the soundest philosophy can shew to the contrary, but one fine transparent body of clear glass (bating the umbilical knot;)- -so that, till the inhabitants grow old, and tolerably wrinkled, whereby the rays of light, in passing through them, become so monstrously refracted, or return reflected from their surfaces in such transverse lines to the eye, that a man cannot be seen through ;his soul might as well, unless for mere ceremony,or the trifling advantage which the umbilical point gave her,-might, upon all other accounts, I say, as well play the fool out o'doors as in her own house.

But this, as I said above, is not the case with the inhabitants of this earth;-our minds shine not through the body, but are wrapt up here in a dark covering of uncrystallized flesh and

blood; so that, if we would come to the specific characters of them, we must go some other way to work.

Many, in good truth, are the ways which human wit has been forced to take to do this thing with exactness.

Some, for instance, draw all their characters with wind instruments.- -Virgil takes notice of that way in the affair of Dido and Æneas;-but it is as fallacious as the breath of fame,-and, moreover, bespeaks a narrow genius. I am not ignorant that the Italians pretend to a mathematical exactness in their designations of one particular sort of characters among them, from the forte or piano of a certain wind instrument they use, which they say is infallible.I dare not mention the name of the instrument in this place; it is sufficient we have it amongst us-but never think of making a drawing by it; this is enigmatical, and intended to be so, at least, ad Topulum:And therefore, I beg, madam, when you come here, that you read on as fast as you can, and never stop to make any inquiry

about it.

There are others again, who will draw a man's character from no other helps in the world, but merely from his evacuations ;but this often gives a very incorrect outline, unless, indeed, you take a sketch of his repletions too; and, by correcting one drawing from the other, compound one good figure out of them both.

I should have no objection to this method, but that I think it must smell too strong of the lamp, and be rendered still more operose, by forcing you to have an eye to the rest of his Non-Naturals.- -Why the most natural actions of a man's life should be called his NonNaturals, is another question.

There are others, fourthly, who disdain every one of these expedients ;- -not from any fertility of their own, but from the various ways of doing it, which they have borrowed from the honourable devices which the Pentagraphic Brethren of the brush have shewn in taking copies. -These, you must know, are your great historians.

One of these you will see drawing a fulllength character against the light;—that's illiberal, dishonest, and hard upon the character of the man who sits.

Others, to mend the matter, will make a drawing of you in the camera ;- -that is most unfair of all, because, there you are sure to be represented in some of your most ridiculous at titudes.

To avoid all and every one of these errors, in giving you my uncle Toby's character, I am determined to draw it by no mechanical help

IF I was not morally sure that the reader must be out of all patience for my uncle Toby's character,- -I would here previously have convinced him, that there is no instrument so fit to draw such a thing with, as that which I have pitched upon.

A man and his HOBBY-HORSE, though I cannot say that they act and re-act exactly after the same manner in which the soul and body do upon each other, yet, doubtless, there is a communication between them of some kind; and my opinion rather is, that there is something in it more of the manner of electrified bodies;and that, by means of the heated parts of the rider, which come immediately into contact with the HOBBY-HORSE,-by long journies, and much friction, it so happens, that the body of the rider is at length filled as full of HOBBY-HORSICAL matter as it can hold ;——— so that if you are able to give but a clear description of the nature of the one, you may form a pretty exact notion of the genius and character of the other.

Now, the HOBBY-HORSE which my uncle Toby always rode upon, was, in my opinion, an HOBBY-HORSE well worth giving a description of, if it was only upon the score of his great singularity; for you might have travelled from York to Dover,-from Dover to Penzance, in Cornwall, and from Penzance to York back again, and not have seen such another the upon road; or, if you had seen such an one, whatever haste you had been in, you must infallibly have stopped to have taken a view of him. Indeed, the gait and figure of him was so strange, and so utterly unlike was he, from his head to his tail, to any one of the whole species, that it was now and then made a matter of dispute,-whether he was really a HOBBY-HORSE or no:as the Philosopher would use no other argument to the sceptic, who disputed with him against the reality of motion, save that of rising up upon his legs, and walking across the room;-so would my uncle Toby use no other argument to prove his HOBBY-HORSE was a HOBBYHORSE indeed, but by getting upon his back, and riding him about;-leaving the world, after that, to determine the point as it thought fit.

-But