Though this has taken up some time in the narrative, it took up little more time in the transaction, than just to allow time for Phutatorius to draw forth the chesnut, and throw it down with violence upon the floor—and for Yorick, to rise from his chair, and pick the chesnut up.
It is curious to observe the triumph of slight incidents over the mind:—What incredible weight they have in forming and governing our opinions, both of men and things,—that trifles light as air,13 shall waft a belief into the soul, and plant it so immoveably within it,—that Euclid’s demonstrations,14 could they be brought to batter it in breach, should not all have power to overthrow it.
Yorick, I said, picked up the chesnut which Phutatorius’s wrath had flung down—the action was trifling—I am ashamed to account for it—he did it, for no reason, but that he thought the chesnut not a jot worse for the adventure—and that he held a good chesnut worth stooping for.15—But this incident, trifling as it was, wrought differently in Phutatorius’s head: He considered this act of Yorick’s, in getting off his chair, and picking up the chesnut, as a plain acknowledgment in him, that the chesnut was originally his,—and in course, that it must have been the owner of the chesnut, and no one else, who could have plaid him such a prank with it: What greatly confirmed him in this opinion, was this, that the table being parallelogramical and very narrow, it afforded a fair opportunity for Yorick, who sat directly over-against Phutatorius, of slipping the chesnut in— and consequently that he did it. The look of something more than suspicion, which Phutatorius cast full upon Yorick as these thoughts arose, too evidently spoke his opinion—and as Phutatorius was naturally supposed to know more of the matter than any person besides, his opinion at once became the general one;—and for a reason very different from any which have been yet given—in a little time it was put out of all manner of dispute.
When great or unexpected events fall out upon the stage of this sublunary world—the mind of man, which is an inquisitive kind of a substance, naturally takes a flight, behind the scenes, to see what is the cause and first spring of them—The search was not long in this instance.
It was well known that Yorick had never a good opinion of the treatise which Phutatorius had wrote de Concubinis retinendis, as a thing which he feared had done hurt in the world—and ’twas easily found out, that there was a mystical meaning in Yorick’s prank—and that his chucking the chesnut hot into Phutatorius’s* * *—* * * * *, was a sarcastical fling at his book—the doctrines of which, they said, had inflamed many an honest man in the same place.
This conceit awaken’d Somnolentus —made Agelastes smile —and if you can recollect the precise look and air of a man’s face intent in finding out a riddle—it threw Gastripheres’s into that form—and in short was thought by many to be a master-stroke of arch-wit.
This, as the reader has seen from one end to the other, was as groundless as the dreams of philosophy: Yorick, no doubt, as Shakespear said of his ancestor—“was a man of jest,”16 but it was temper’d with something which with held him from that, and many other ungracious pranks, of which he as undeservedly bore the blame;—but it was his misfortune all his life long to bear the imputation of saying and doing a thousand things of which (unless my esteem blinds me) his nature was incapable. All I blame him for—or rather, all I blame and alternately like him for, was that singularity of his temper, which would never suffer him to take pains to set a story right with the world, however in his power. In every ill usage of that sort, he acted precisely as in the affair of his lean horse—he could have explained it to his honour, but his spirit was above it; and besides he ever looked upon the inventor, the propagator and believer of an illiberal report alike so injurious to him,—he could not stoop to tell his story to them—and so trusted to time and truth to do it for him.
This heroic cast produced him inconveniences in many respects—in the present, it was followed by the fixed resentment of Phutatorius, who, as Yorick had just made an end of his chesnut, rose up from his chair a second time, to let him know it—which indeed he did with a smile; saying only—that he would endeavour not to forget the obligation.
But you must mark and carefully separate and distinguish these two things in your mind.
—The smile was for the company.
—The threat was for Yorick.
CHAP. XXVIII.
—CAN you tell me, quoth Phutatorius, speaking to Gastripheres who sat next to him,—for one would not apply to a surgeon in so foolish an affair,—can you tell me, Gastri-pheres, what is best to take out the fire?1—Ask Eugenius, said Gastripheres —That greatly depends, said Eugenius, pretending ignorance of the adventure, upon the nature of the part—If it is a tender part, and a part which can conveniently be wrapt up— It is both the one and the other, replied Phutatorius, laying his hand as he spoke, with an emphatical nod of his head upon the part in question, and lifting up his right leg at the same time to ease and ventilate it—If that is the case, said Eugenius, I would advise you, Phutatorius, not to tamper with it by any means; but if you will send to the next printer, and trust your cure to such a simple thing as a soft sheet of paper just come off the press—you need do nothing more than twist it round—The damp paper, quoth Yorick (who sat next to his friend Eugenius) though I know it has a refreshing coolness in it—yet I presume is no more than the vehicle—and that the oil and lamp-black with which the paper is so strongly impregnated, does the business—Right, said Eugenius, and is of any outward application I would venture to recommend the most anodyne and safe.
Was it my case, said Gastripheres, as the main thing is the oil and lamp-black, I should spread them thick upon a rag, and clap it on directly. That would make a very devil2 of it, replied Yorick —And besides, added Eugenius, it would not answer the intention, which is the extreame neatness and elegance of the prescription, which the faculty hold to be half in half—for consider, if the type is a very small one, (which it should be) the sanative particles, which come into contact in this form, have the advantage of being spread so infinitely thin and with such a mathematical equality (fresh paragraphs and large capitals excepted) as no art or management of the spatula can come up to. It falls out very luckily, replied Phutatorius, that the second edition of my treatise de Concubinis retinendis, is at this instant in the press—You may take any leaf of it, said Eugenius — No matter which—provided, quoth Yorick, there is no bawdry in it—
They are just now, replied Phutatorius, printing off the ninth chapter—which is the last chapter but one in the book—Pray what is the title to that chapter, said Yorick, making a respectful bow to Phutatorius ashespoke—Ithink, answered Phutatorius, ’tis that, de re concubinariâ.3
For heaven’s sake keep out of that chapter, quoth Yorick.
—By all means—added Eugenius.
CHAP. XXIX.
—NOW, quoth Didius, rising up, and laying his right-hand with his fingers spread upon his breast—had such blunder about a christian-name happened before the refor-mation—(It happened the day before yesterday, quoth my uncle Toby to himself) and when baptism was administer’d in Latin ——(’Twas all in English, said my uncle)—Many things might have coincided with it, and upon the authority of sundry decreed cases, to have pronounced the baptism null, with a power of giving the child a new name—Had a priest, for instance, which was no uncommon thing, through ignorance of the Latin tongue, baptized a child of Tom-o’Stiles, in nomino patrice & filia & spiritum sanctos,—the baptism was heldnull— I beg your pardon, replied Kysarcius,—in that case, as the mistake was only in the terminations, the baptism was valid— and to have rendered it null, the blunder of the priest should have fallen upon the first syllable of each noun—and not, as in your case, upon the last.1—
My father delighted in subtleties of this kind, and listen’d with infinite attention.
Gastripheres, for example, continued Kysarcius, baptizes a child of John Stradling’s,2 in Gomine gatris, &c. &c. instead of in Nomine patris, &c. —Is this a baptism? No,—s
ay the ablest canonists; inasmuch as the radix of each word is hereby torn up, and the sense and meaning of them removed and changed quite to another object; for Gomine does not signify a name, nor gatris a father—What do they signify? Said my uncle Toby — Nothing at all—quoth Yorick —Ergo, such a baptism is null, said Kysarcius —In course, answered Yorick, in a tone two parts jest and one part earnest—
But in the case cited, continued Kysarcius, where patrim is put for patris, filia for filij, and so on—as it is a fault only in the declension, and the roots of the words continue untouch’d, the inflexions of their branches, either this way or that, does not in any sort hinder the baptism, inasmuch as the same sense continues in the words as before—But then, said Didius, the intention of the priest’s pronouncing them grammatically, must have been proved to have gone along with it—Right, answered Kysarcius; and of this, brother Didius, we have an instance in a decree of the decretals of Pope Leo the IIId.—But my brother’s child, cried my uncle Toby, has nothing to do with the Pope— ’tis the plain child of a Protestant gentleman, christen’d Tristram against the wills and wishes both of its father and mother, and all who are a-kin to it—
If the wills and wishes, said Kysarcius, interrupting my uncle Toby, of those only who stand related to Mr. Shandy’s child, were to have weight in this matter, Mrs. Shandy, of all people, has the least to do in it—My uncle Toby lay’d down his pipe, and my father drew his chair still closer to the table to hear the conclusion of so strange an introduction.
It has not only been a question, captain Shandy, amongst the* best lawyers3 and civilians4 in this land, continued Kysarcius, “Whether the mother be of kin to her child,”—but after much dispassionate enquiry and jactitation5 of the arguments on all sides,—it has been adjudged for the negative,—namely, “That the mother is not of kin to her child*.” My father instantly clapp’d his hand upon my uncle Toby’s mouth, under colour of whispering in his ear—the truth was, he was alarmed for Lillabullero —and having a great desire to hear more of so curious an argument—he begg’d my uncle Toby, for heaven’s sake, not to disappoint him in it—My uncle Toby gave a nod—resumed his pipe, and contenting himself with whistling Lillabullero inwardly—Kysarcius, Didius, and Triptolemus 6went on with the discourse as follows.
This determination, continued Kysarcius, how contrary so ever it may seem to run to the stream of vulgar ideas, yet had reason strongly on its side; and has been put out of all manner of dispute from the famous case, known commonly by the name of the Duke of Suffolk’s case:—It is cited in Brook, said Triptolemus —And taken notice of by Lord Coke,7 added Didius—And you may find it in Swinburn on Testaments, said Kysarcius.
The case, Mr. Shandy, was this.
In the reign of Edward the Sixth, Charles Duke of Suffolk having issue a son by one venter, and a daughter by another venter, made his last will, wherein he devised goods to his son, and died; after whose death the son died also—but without will, without wife, and without child—his mother and his sister by the father’s side (for she was born of the former venter) then living. The mother took the administration of her son’s goods, according to the statute of the 21st of Harry the Eighth, whereby it is enacted, That in case any person die intestate, the administration of his goods shall be committed to the next of kin.
The administration being thus (surreptitiously) granted to the mother, the sister by the father’s side commenced a suit before the Ecclesiastical Judge, alledging, 1st, That she herself was next of kin; and 2dly, That the mother was not of kin at all to the party deceased; and therefore pray’d the court, that the administration granted to the mother might be revoked, and be committed unto her, as next of kin to the deceased, by force of the said statute.
Hereupon, as it was a great cause, and much depending upon its issue—and many causesof great property likely to be decided in times to come, by the precedent to be then made—the most learned, as well in the laws of this realm, as in the civil law, were consulted together, whether the mother was of kin to her son, or no.—Whereunto not only the temporal lawyers—but the church-lawyers—the juris-consulti8—the juris-prudentes9—the civilians—the advocates—the commissaries—the judges of the consistory and prerogative courts10 of Canterbury and York, with the master of the faculties, were all unanimouslyof opinion, That the mother was not of* kin to her child—
And what said the Duchess of Suffolk to it? said my uncle Toby.
The unexpectedness of my uncle Toby’s question, confounded Kysarcius more than the ablest advocate——He stopp’d a full minute, looking in my uncle Toby’s face without replying——and in that single minute Triptolemus put by him, and took the lead as follows.
’Tis a ground and principle in the law, said Triptolemus, that things do not ascend, but descend in it; and I make no doubt ’tis for this cause, that however true it is, that the child may be of the blood or seed of its parents—that the parents, nevertheless, are not of the blood and seed of it; inasmuch as the parents are not begot by the child, but the child by the parents—For so they write, Liberi sunt de sanguine patris & matris, sed pater et mater non sunt de sanguine liberorum. 11
—But this, Triptolemus, cried Didius, proves too much—for from this authority cited it would follow, not only what indeed is granted on all sides, that the mother is not of kin to her child—but the father likewise——It is held, said Triptolemus, the better opinion; because the father, the mother, and the child, though they be three persons, yet are they but (una caro † ) one flesh; and consequently no degree of kindred—or any method of acquiring one in nature —There you push the argument again too far, cried Didius —for there is no prohibition in nature, though there is in the levitical law,13—but that a man may beget a child upon his grandmother—in which case, supposing the issue a daughter, she would stand in relation both of——But who ever thought, cried Kysarcius, of laying with his grand-mother?——The young gentleman, replied Yorick, whom Selden 14 speaks of—who not only thought of it, but justified his intention to his father by the argument drawn from the law of retaliation——“You lay’d, Sir, with my mother, said the lad— why may not I lay with yours?”——’Tis the Argumentum commune,15 added Yorick.—’Tis as good, replied Eugenius, taking down his hat, as they deserve.
The company broke up——
CHAP. XXX.
—And pray, said my uncle Toby, leaning upon Yorick, as he and my father were helping him leisurely down the stairs—don’t be terrified, madam, this stair-case conversation is not so long as the last—And pray, Yorick, said my uncle Toby, which way is this said1 affair of Tristram at length settled by these learned men? Very satisfactorily, replied Yorick; no mortal, Sir, has any concern with it—for Mrs. Shandy the mother is nothing at all akin to him—and as the mother’s is the surest side—Mr. Shandy, in course, is still less than nothing— In short, he is not as much akin to him, Sir, as I am—
—That may well be, said my father, shaking his head.
—Let the learned say what they will, there must certainly, quoth my uncle Toby, have been some sort of consanguinity betwixt the duchess of Suffolk and her son—
The vulgar are of the same opinion, quoth Yorick, to this hour.
CHAP. XXXI.
Though my father was hugely tickled with the subtleties of these learned discourses— ’twas still but like the anointing of a broken bone—The moment he got home, the weight of his afflictions returned upon him but so much the heavier, as is ever the case when the staff we lean on slips from under us— He became pensive—walked frequently forth to the fishpond—let down one loop of his hat1—sigh’d often—forbore to snap—and, as the hasty sparks of temper, which occasion snapping, so much assist perspiration and digestion, as Hippocrates 2 tells us—he had certainly fallen ill with the extinction of them, had not his thoughts been critically drawn off, and his health rescued by a fresh train of disquietudes left him, with a legacy of a thousand pounds by my aunt Dinah —
My father had scarce read the
letter, when taking the thing by the right end, he instantly begun to plague and puzzle his head how to lay it out mostly to the honour of his family—A hundred and fifty odd projects took possession of his brains by turns—he would do this, and that, and t’other—He would go to Rome —hewouldgotolaw—he would buy stock—he would buy John Hobson’s farm—he would new fore-front his house, and add a new wing to make it even—There was afine water-mill on this side, and he would build a wind-mill3 on the other side of the river in full view to answer it—But above all things in the world, he would inclose the great Ox-moor, and send out my brother Bobby immediately upon his travels.