Trust me, dear Yorick, this unwary pleasantry of thine will sooner or later bring thee into scrapes and difficulties, which no after-wit can extricate thee out of.——In these sallies, too oft, I see, it happens, that a person laugh’d at, considers himself in the light of a person injured, with all the rights of such a situation belonging to him; and when thou viewest him in that light too, and reckons up his friends, his family, his kindred, and allies,----and musters up with them the many recruits which will list under him from a sense of commondanger;---’tis no extravagant arithmetic to say, that for every ten jokes,---thou hast got a hundred enemies; and till thou hast gone on, and raised a swarm of wasps about thy ears, and art half stung to death by them, thou will never be convinced it is so.
I cannot suspect it in the man whom I esteem, that there is the least spur from spleen or malevolence of intent in these sallies.——I believe and know them to be truly honest and sportive:---But consider, my dear lad, that fools cannot distinguish this,--and that knaves will not; and thou knowest not what it is, either to provoke the one, or to make merry with the other,--whenever they associate for mutual defence, depend upon it, they will carry on the war in such a manner against thee, my dear friend, as to make thee heartily sick of it, and of thy life too.
REVENGE from some baneful corner shall level a tale of dishonour at thee, which no innocence of heart or integrity of conduct shall set right.——The fortunes of thy house shall totter,---thy character, which led the way to them, shall bleed on every side of it,--thy faith questioned,--thy works belied,--thy wit forgotten,--thy learning trampled on. To wind up the last scene of thy tragedy, CRUELTY and COWARDICE, twin ruffians, hired and set on by MALICE in the dark, shall strike together at all thy infirmities and mistakes:---the best of us, my dear lad, lye open there,---and trust me,----trust me, Yorick, When to gratify a private appetite, it is once resolved upon, that an innocent and an helpless creature shall be sacrificed, ’tis an easy matter to pick up sticks enew from any thicket where it has strayed, to make a fire to offer it up with. 4
Yorick scarce ever heard this sad vaticination of his destiny read over to him, but with a tear stealing from his eye, and a promissory look attending it, that he was resolved, for the time to come, to ride his tit5 with more sobriety.—But, alas, too late!---a grand confederacy, with * * * * * and * * * * * at the head of it, was form’d before the first prediction of it.----The whole plan of the attack, just as Eugenius had foreboded, was put in execution all at once,-----with so little mercy on the side of the allies,---and so little suspicion in Yorick, of what was carrying on against him,---that when he thought, good easy man! full surely preferment was o’ripening,--they had smote his root, and then he fell, as many a worthy man had fallen before him.6
Yorick, however, fought it out with all imaginable gallantry for some time; till, over-power’d by numbers, and worn out at length by the calamities of the war,----but more so, by the ungenerous manner in which it was carried on,---he threw down the sword; and though he kept up his spirits in appearance to the last,----he died, nevertheless, as was generally thought, quite broken hearted.
What inclined Eugenius to the same opinion, was as follows:
A few hours before Yorick breath’d his last, Eugenius stept in with an intent to take his last sight and last farewell of him: Upon his drawing Yorick’s curtain, and asking how he felt himself, Yorick, looking up in his face, took hold of his hand,----and, after thanking him for the many tokens of his friendship to him, for which, he said, if it was their fate to meet hereafter,---he would thank him again and again.—He told him, he was within a few hours of giving his enemies the slip for ever.-----I hope not, answered Eugenius, with tears trickling down his cheeks, and with the tenderest tone that ever man spoke,---I hope not, Yorick, said he.-- Yorick replied, with a look up, and a gentle squeeze of Eugenius’s hand, and that was all,--but it cut Eugenius to his heart.--Come,--come, Yorick, quoth Eugenius, wiping his eyes, and summoning up the man within him, my dear lad, be comforted,---let not all thy spirits and fortitude forsake thee at this crisis when thou most wants them;——who knows what resourses are in store, and what the power of God may yet do for thee?—— Yorick laid his hand upon his heart, and gently shook his head;---for my part, continued Eugenius, crying bitterly as he uttered the words,—I declare I know not, Yorick, how to part with thee,——and would gladly flatter my hopes, added Eugenius, chearing up his voice, that there is still enough left of thee to make a bishop,---and that I may live to see it.——I beseech thee, Eugenius, quoth Yorick, taking off his night-cap as well as he could with his left hand,——his right being still grasped close in that of Eugenius,——I beseech thee to take a view of my head.----I see nothing that ails it, replied Eugenius. Then, alas! my friend, said Yorick, let me tell you, that ’tis so bruised and misshapen’d with the blows which * * * * * and * * * * *, and some others have so unhandsomely given me in the dark, that I might say with Sancho Pança,7 that should I recover, and “Mitres thereupon be suffer’d to rain down from heaven as thick as hail, not one of ’em would fit it.”———Yorick’s last breath was hanging upon his trembling lips ready to depart as he uttered this;---yet still it was utter’d with something of a cervantick tone;8--and as he spoke it, Eugenius could perceive a stream of lambent fire lighted up for a moment in his eyes;----faint picture of those flashes of his spirit, which (as Shakespear said of his ancestor) were wont to set the table in a roar!9
Eugenius was convinced from this, that the heart of his friend was broke; he squeez’d his hand,——and then walk’d softly out of the room, weeping as he walk’d. Yorick followed Eugenius with his eyes to the door,----he then closed them,—and never opened them more.
He lies buried in a corner of his church-yard, in the parish of———, under a plain marble slabb, which his friend Eugenius, by leave of his executors, laid upon his grave, with no more than these three words of inscription serving both for his epitaph and elegy.
Alas, poor YORICK!10
Ten times in a day has Yorick’s ghost the consolation to hear his monumental inscription read over with such a variety of plaintive tones, as denote a general pity and esteem for him;——a foot-way crossing the church-yard close by the side of his grave,—not a passenger goes by without stopping to cast a look upon it,——and sighing as he walks on,
Alas, poor YORICK!
CHAP. XIII.
IT is so long since the reader of this rhapsodical work1 has been parted from the midwife, that it is high time to mention her again to him, merely to put him in mind that there is such a body still in the world, and whom, upon the best judgment I can form upon my own plan at present,---I am going to introduce to him for good and all: But as fresh matter may be started, and much unexpected business fall out betwixt the reader and myself, which may require immediate dispatch;-----’twas right to take care that the poor woman should not be lost in the mean time;---because when she is wanted we can no way do without her.
I think I told you that this good woman was a person of no small note and consequence throughout our whole village and township;---that her fame had spread itself to the very out-edge2 and circumference of that circle of importance, of which kind every soul living, whether he has a shirt to his back or no,----has one surrounding him;--which said circle, by the way, whenever ’tis said that such a one is of great weight and importance in the world,——I desire may be enlarged or contracted in your worship’s fancy, in a compound-ratio3 of the station, profession, knowledge, abilities, height and depth (measuring both ways) of the personage brought before you.
In the present case, if I remember, I fixed it at about four or five miles, which not only comprehended the whole parish, but extended itself to two or three of the adjacent hamlets in the skirts of the next parish; which made a considerable thing of it. I must add, That she was, moreover, very well looked on at one large grange-house and some other odd houses and farms within two or three miles, as I said, from the smoke of her own chimney:----Bu
t I must here, once for all, inform you, that all this will be more exactly delineated and explain’d in a map, now in the hands of the engraver, which, with many other pieces and developments to this work, will be added to the end of the twentieth volume,---not to swell the work,—I detest the thought of such a thing;——but by way of commentary,4 scholium, illustration, and key to such passages, incidents, or inuendos as shall be thought to be either of private interpretation, or of dark or doubtful meaning after my life and my opinions shall have been read over, (now don’t forget the meaning of the word) by all the world;--which, betwixt you and me, and in spight of all the gentlemen reviewers in Great-Britain, and of all that their worships shall undertake to write or say to the contrary,----I am determined shall be the case.——I need not tell your worship, that all this is spoke in confidence.
CHAP. XIV.
UPON looking into my mother’s marriage settlement, in order to satisfy myself and reader in a point necessary to be clear’d up, before we could proceed any further in this history;---I had the good fortune to pop upon the very thing I wanted before I had read a day and a half straight forwards,--it might have taken me up a month;--which shews plainly, that when a man sits down to write a history,---tho’ it be but the history of Jack Hickathrift or Tom Thumb,1 he knows no more than his heels what lets and confounded hinderances he is to meet with in his way,---or what a dance he may be led, by one excursion or another, before all is over. Could a historiographer drive on his history, as a muleteer drives on his mule,—straight forward;----for instance, from Rome all the way to Loretto,2 without ever once turning his head aside either to the right hand or to the left,—he might venture to foretell you to an hour when he should get to his journey’s end;3-----but the thing is, morally speaking, impossible: For, if he is a man of the least spirit, he will have fifty deviations from a straight line to make with this or that party as he goes along, which he can no ways avoid. He will have views and prospects4 to himself perpetually solliciting his eye, which he can no more help standing still to look at than he can fly; he will moreover have various
Accounts to reconcile:
Anecdotes to pick up:
Inscriptions to make out:
Stories to weave in:
Traditions to sift:
Personages to call upon:
Panygericks to paste up at this door:
Pasquinades at that:——All which both the man and his mule are quite exempt from. To sum up all; there are archives at every stage to be look’d into, and rolls, records, documents, and endless genealogies, which justice ever and anon calls him back to stay the reading of:----In short, there is no end of it;-----for my own part, I declare I have been at it these six weeks, making all the speed I possibly could,—and am not yet born:--I have just been able, and that’s all, to tell you when it happen’d, but not how;---so that you see the thing is yet far from being accomplished.
These unforeseen stoppages, which I own I had no conception of when I first set out;---but which, I am convinced now, will rather increase than diminish as I advance,---have struck out a hint which I am resolved to follow;---and that is,---not to be in a hurry;---but to go on leisurely, writing and publishing two volumes of my life every year;----which, if I am suffered to go on quietly, and can make a tolerable bargain with my book seller, I shall continue to do as long as I live.
CHAP. XV.
THE article in my mother’s marriage settlement, which I told the reader I was at the pains to search for, and which, now that I have found it, I think proper to lay before him,—is so much more fully express’d in the deed itself, than ever I can pretend to do it, that it would be barbarity to take it out of the lawyer’s hand:—It is as follows.
“And this Indenture further witnefleth, That the said Walter Shandy, merchant, in consideration of the said intended marriage to be had, and, by God’s blessing, to be well and truly solemnized and consummated between the said Walter Shandy and Elizabeth Mollineux aforesaid, and divers other good and valuable causes and considerations him thereunto specially moving,—doth grant, covenant, condescend, consent, conclude, bargain, and fully agree to and with John Dixon and James Turner, Esqrs. the above-named trustees, &c. &c.— to wit,—That in case it should hereafter so fall out, chance, happen, or otherwise come to pass,—That the said Walter Shandy, merchant, shall have left off business before the time or times, that the said Elizabeth Mollineux shall, according to the course of nature, or otherwise, have left off bearing and bringing forth children;—and that, in consequence of the said Walter Shandy having so left off business, shall, in despight, and against the free will, consent, and good-liking of the said Elizabeth Mollineux,— make a departure from the city of London, in order to retire to, and dwell upon, his estate at Shandy-Hall, in the county of ——, or at any other country seat, castle, hall, mansion-house, messuage, or grainge-house, now purchased, or hereafter to be purchased, or upon any part or parcel thereof:—That then, and as often as the said Elizabeth Mollineux shall happen to be enceint with child or children severally and lawfully begot, or to be begotten, upon the body of the said Elizabeth Mollineux during her said coverture,—— he the said Walter Shandy shall, at his own proper cost and charges, and out of his own proper monies, upon good and reasonable notice, which is hereby agreed to be within six weeks of her the said Elizabeth Mollineux’s full reckoning, or time of supposed and computed delivery,—pay, or cause to be paid, the sum of one hundred and twenty pounds of good and lawful money, to John Dixon and James Turner, Esqrs. or assigns,— upon Trust and confidence, and for and unto the use and uses, intent, end, and purpose following:—That is to lap,—That the said sum of one hundred and twenty pounds shall be paid into the hands of the said Elizabeth Mollineux, or to be otherwise applied by them the said trustees, for the well and truly hiring of one coach, with able and sufficient horses, to carry and convey the body of the said Elizabeth Mollineux and the child or children which she shall be then and there enceint and pregnant with,—unto the city of London; and for the further paying and defraying of all other incidental costs, charges, and expences whatsoever,—in and about, and for, and relating to her said intended delivery and lying-in, in the said city or suburbs thereof. And that the said Elizabeth Mollineux shall and may, from time to time, and at all such time and times as are here covenanted and agreed upon,—peaceably and quietly hire the said coach and horses, and have free ingress, egress, and regress1 throughout her journey, in and from the said coach, according to the tenor, true intent, and meaning of these presents, without any let, suit, trouble, disturbance, molestation, discharge, hin-derance, forfeiture, eviction, vexation, interruption, or incum-berance whatsoever.—And that it shall moreover be lawful to and for the said Elizabeth Mollineux, from time to time, and as oft or often as she shall well and truly be advanced in her said pregnancy, to the time heretofore stipulated and agreed upon,— to live and reside in such place or places, and in such family or families, and with such relations, friends, and other persons within the said city of London, as she, at her own will and pleasure, notwithstanding her present coverture, and as if she was a femme sole2 and unmarried,—shall think fit.—And this Indenture further wintneffeth, That for the more effectually carrying of the said covenant into execution, the said Walter Shandy, merchant, doth hereby grant, bargain, sell, release, and confirm unto the said John Dixon and James Turner, Esqrs. their heirs, executors, and assigns, in their actual possession now being, by virtue of an indenture of bargain and sale for a year to them the said John Dixon and James Turner, Esqrs. by him the said Walter Shandy, merchant, thereof made; which said bargain and sale for a year, bears date the day next before the date of these presents, and by force and virtue of the statute for transferring of uses into possession,———All that the manor and lordship of Shandy in the county of———, with all the rights, members, and appurtenances thereof; and all and every the messuages, houses, buildings, barns, stables, orchards, gardens, backsides, tofts, crofts, garths, cottages, lands, meadows
, feedings, pastures, marshes, commons, woods, underwoods, drains, fisheries, waters, and water-courses;— together with all rents, reversions, services, annuities, fee-farms, knights fees, views of frank-pledge, escheats, reliefs, mines, quarries, goods and chattels of felons and fugitives, felons of themselves, and put in exigent, deodands, free warrens, and all other royalties and seignories, rights and jurisdictions, privileges and hered it a ments whatsoever.——And alfo the advowson, donation, presentation and free disposition of the rectory or parsonage of Shandy aforesaid, and all and every the tenths, tythes, glebe-lands”——In three words,——“My mother was to lay in, (if she chose it) in London.”
But in order to put a stop to the practice of any unfair play on the part of my mother, which a marriage article of this nature too manifestly opened a door to, and which indeed had never been thought of at all, but for my uncle Toby Shandy;--a clause was added in security of my father, which was this:—“That in case my mother hereafter should, at any time, put my father to the trouble and expence of a London journey upon false cries and tokens;——that for every such instance she should forfeit all the right and title which the covenant gave her to the next turn;——but to no more,--and so on, toties quoties,3 in as effectual a manner, as if such a covenant betwixt them had not been made.”—This, by the way, was no more than what was reasonable;—and yet, as reasonable as it was, I have ever thought it hard that the whole weight of the article should have fallen entirely, as it did, upon myself.