The Story of Le Fever Continued.

It was not till my uncle Toby had knocked the ashes out of his third pipe, that corporal Trim returned from the inn, and gave him the following account.

I despaired, at first, said the corporal, of being able to bring back your honour any kind of intelligence concerning the poor sick lieutenant-Is he in the army, then? said my uncle Toby-He is, said the corporal-And in what regiment? said my uncle Toby-I'll tell your honour, replied the corporal, every thing straight forwards, as I learnt it.-Then, Trim, I'll fill another pipe, said my uncle Toby, and not interrupt thee till thou hast done; so sit down at thy ease, Trim, in the window-seat, and begin thy story again. The corporal made his old bow, which generally spoke as plain as a bow could speak it-Your honour is good:-And having done that, he sat down, as he was ordered,-and begun the story to my uncle Toby over again in pretty near the same words.

I despaired at first, said the corporal, of being able to bring back any intelligence to your honour, about the lieutenant and his son; for when I asked where his servant was, from whom I made myself sure of knowing every thing which was proper to be asked,-That's a right distinction, Trim, said my uncle Toby-I was answered, an' please your honour, that he had no servant with him;-that he had come to the inn with hired horses, which, upon finding himself unable to proceed (to join, I suppose, the regiment), he had dismissed the morning after he came.-If I get better, my dear, said he, as he gave his purse to his son to pay the man,-we can hire horses from hence.-But alas! the poor gentleman will never get from hence, said the landlady to me,-for I heard the death-watch all night long;-and when he dies, the youth, his son, will certainly die with him; for he is broken-hearted already.

I was hearing this account, continued the corporal, when the youth came into the kitchen, to order the thin toast the landlord spoke of;-but I will do it for my father myself, said the youth.-Pray let my save you the trouble, young gentleman, said I, taking up a fork for the purpose, and offering him my chair to sit down upon by the fire, whilst I did it.-I believe, Sir, said he, very modestly, I can please him best myself.-I am sure, said I, his honour will not like the toast the worse for being toasted by an old soldier.-The youth took hold of my hand, and instantly burst into tears.-Poor youth! said my uncle Toby,-he has been bred up from an infant in the army, and the name of a soldier, Trim, sounded in his ears like the name of a friend;-I wish I had him here.

-I never, in the longest march, said the corporal, had so great a mind to my dinner, as I had to cry with him for company:-What could be the matter with me, an' please your honour? Nothing in the world, Trim, said my uncle Toby, blowing his nose,-but that thou art a good-natured fellow.

When I gave him the toast, continued the corporal, I thought it was proper to tell him I was captain Shandy's servant, and that your honour (though a stranger) was extremely concerned for his father;-and that if there was any thing in your house or cellar-(And thou might'st have added my purse too, said my uncle Toby),-he was heartily welcome to it:-He made a very low bow (which was meant to your honour), but no answer-for his heart was full-so he went up stairs with the toast;-I warrant you, my dear, said I, as I opened the kitchen-door, your father will be well again.-Mr. Yorick's curate was smoking a pipe by the kitchen fire,-but said not a word good or bad to comfort the youth.-I thought it wrong; added the corporal-I think so too, said my uncle Toby.

When the lieutenant had taken his gla.s.s of sack and toast, he felt himself a little revived, and sent down into the kitchen, to let me know, that in about ten minutes he should be glad if I would step up stairs.-I believe, said the landlord, he is going to say his prayers,-for there was a book laid upon the chair by his bed-side, and as I shut the door, I saw his son take up a cushion.-

I thought, said the curate, that you gentlemen of the army, Mr. Trim, never said your prayers at all.-I heard the poor gentleman say his prayers last night, said the landlady, very devoutly, and with my own ears, or I could not have believed it.-Are you sure of it? replied the curate.-A soldier, an' please your reverence, said I, prays as often (of his own accord) as a parson;-and when he is fighting for his king, and for his own life, and for his honour too, he has the most reason to pray to G.o.d of any one in the whole world-'Twas well said of thee, Trim, said my uncle Toby.-But when a soldier, said I, an' please your reverence, has been standing for twelve hours together in the trenches, up to his knees in cold water,-or engaged, said I, for months together in long and dangerous marches;-hara.s.sed, perhaps, in his rear to-day;-hara.s.sing others to-morrow;-detached here;-countermanded there;-resting this night out upon his arms;-beat up in his shirt the next;-benumbed in his joints;-perhaps without straw in his tent to kneel on;-must say his prayers how and when he can.-I believe, said I,-for I was piqued, quoth the corporal, for the reputation of the army,-I believe, an' please your reverence, said I, that when a soldier gets time to pray,-he prays as heartily as a parson,-though not with all his fuss and hypocrisy.-Thou shouldst not have said that, Trim, said my uncle Toby,-for G.o.d only knows who is a hypocrite, and who is not:-At the great and general review of us all, corporal, at the day of judgment (and not till then)-it will be seen who has done their duties in this world,-and who has not; and we shall be advanced, Trim, accordingly.-I hope we shall, said Trim.-It is in the Scripture, said my uncle Toby; and I will shew it thee to-morrow:-In the mean time we may depend upon it, Trim, for our comfort, said my uncle Toby, that G.o.d Almighty is so good and just a governor of the world, that if we have but done our duties in it,-it will never be enquired into, whether we have done them in a red coat or a black one:-I hope not, said the corporal-But go on, Trim, said my uncle Toby, with thy story.

When I went up, continued the corporal, into the lieutenant's room, which I did not do till the expiration of the ten minutes,-he was lying in his bed with his head raised upon his hand, with his elbow upon the pillow, and a clean white cambrick handkerchief beside it:-The youth was just stooping down to take up the cushion, upon which I supposed he had been kneeling,-the book was laid upon the bed,-and, as he rose, in taking up the cushion with one hand, he reached out his other to take it away at the same time.-Let it remain there, my dear, said the lieutenant.

He did not offer to speak to me, till I had walked up close to his bed-side:-If you are captain Shandy's servant, said he, you must present my thanks to your master, with my little boy's thanks along with them, for his courtesy to me;-if he was of Levens's-said the lieutenant.-I told him your honour was-Then, said he, I served three campaigns with him in Flanders, and remember him,-but 'tis most likely, as I had not the honour of any acquaintance with him, that he knows nothing of me.-You will tell him, however, that the person his good-nature has laid under obligations to him, is one Le Fever, a lieutenant in Angus's-but he knows me not,-said he, a second time, musing;-possibly he may my story-added he-pray tell the captain, I was the ensign at Breda, whose wife was most unfortunately killed with a musket-shot, as she lay in my arms in my tent.-I remember the story, an't please your honour, said I, very well.-Do you so? said he, wiping his eyes with his handkerchief-then well may I.-In saying this, he drew a little ring out of his bosom, which seemed tied with a black ribband about his neck, and kiss'd it twice-Here, Billy, said he,-the boy flew across the room to the bed-side,-and falling down upon his knee, took the ring in his hand, and kissed it too,-then kissed his father, and sat down upon the bed and wept.

I wish, said my uncle Toby, with a deep sigh,-I wish, Trim, I was asleep.

Your honour, replied the corporal, is too much concerned;-shall I pour your honour out a gla.s.s of sack to your pipe?-Do, Trim, said my uncle Toby.

I remember, said my uncle Toby, sighing again, the story of the ensign and his wife, with a circ.u.mstance his modesty omitted;-and particularly well that he, as well as she, upon some account or other (I forget what) was universally pitied by the whole regiment;-but finish the story thou art upon:-'Tis finished already, said the corporal,-for I could stay no longer,-so wished his honour a good night; young Le Fever rose from off the bed, and saw me to the bottom of the stairs; and as we went down together, told me, they had come from Ireland, and were on their route to join the regiment in Flanders.-But alas! said the corporal,-the lieutenant's last day's march is over.-Then what is to become of his poor boy? cried my uncle Toby.

Chapter 3.LI.

The Story of Le Fever Continued.

It was to my uncle Toby's eternal honour,-though I tell it only for the sake of those, who, when coop'd in betwixt a natural and a positive law, know not, for their souls, which way in the world to turn themselves-That notwithstanding my uncle Toby was warmly engaged at that time in carrying on the siege of Dendermond, parallel with the allies, who pressed theirs on so vigorously, that they scarce allowed him time to get his dinner-that nevertheless he gave up Dendermond, though he had already made a lodgment upon the counterscarp;-and bent his whole thoughts towards the private distresses at the inn; and except that he ordered the garden gate to be bolted up, by which he might be said to have turned the siege of Dendermond into a blockade,-he left Dendermond to itself-to be relieved or not by the French king, as the French king thought good; and only considered how he himself should relieve the poor lieutenant and his son.

-That kind Being, who is a friend to the friendless, shall recompence thee for this.

Thou hast left this matter short, said my uncle Toby to the corporal, as he was putting him to bed,-and I will tell thee in what, Trim.-In the first place, when thou madest an offer of my services to Le Fever,-as sickness and travelling are both expensive, and thou knowest he was but a poor lieutenant, with a son to subsist as well as himself out of his pay,-that thou didst not make an offer to him of my purse; because, had he stood in need, thou knowest, Trim, he had been as welcome to it as myself.-Your honour knows, said the corporal, I had no orders;-True, quoth my uncle Toby,-thou didst very right, Trim, as a soldier,-but certainly very wrong as a man.

In the second place, for which, indeed, thou hast the same excuse, continued my uncle Toby,-when thou offeredst him whatever was in my house,-thou shouldst have offered him my house too:-A sick brother officer should have the best quarters, Trim, and if we had him with us,-we could tend and look to him:-Thou art an excellent nurse thyself, Trim,-and what with thy care of him, and the old woman's and his boy's, and mine together, we might recruit him again at once, and set him upon his legs.-

-In a fortnight or three weeks, added my uncle Toby, smiling,-he might march.-He will never march; an' please your honour, in this world, said the corporal:-He will march; said my uncle Toby, rising up from the side of the bed, with one shoe off:-An' please your honour, said the corporal, he will never march but to his grave:-He shall march, cried my uncle Toby, marching the foot which had a shoe on, though without advanceing an inch,-he shall march to his regiment.-He cannot stand it, said the corporal;-He shall be supported, said my uncle Toby;-He'll drop at last, said the corporal, and what will become of his boy?-He shall not drop, said my uncle Toby, firmly.-A-well-o'day,-do what we can for him, said Trim, maintaining his point,-the poor soul will die:-He shall not die, by G.., cried my uncle Toby.

-The Accusing Spirit, which flew up to heaven's chancery with the oath, blush'd as he gave it in;-and the Recording Angel, as he wrote it down, dropp'd a tear upon the word, and blotted it out for ever.

Chapter 3.LII.

-My uncle Toby went to his bureau,-put his purse into his breeches pocket, and having ordered the corporal to go early in the morning for a physician,-he went to bed, and fell asleep.

Chapter 3.LIII.

The Story of Le Fever Continued.

The sun looked bright the morning after, to every eye in the village but Le Fever's and his afflicted son's; the hand of death pressed heavy upon his eye-lids,-and hardly could the wheel at the cistern turn round its circle,-when my uncle Toby, who had rose up an hour before his wonted time, entered the lieutenant's room, and without preface or apology, sat himself down upon the chair by the bed-side, and, independently of all modes and customs, opened the curtain in the manner an old friend and brother officer would have done it, and asked him how he did,-how he had rested in the night,-what was his complaint,-where was his pain,-and what he could do to help him:-and without giving him time to answer any one of the enquiries, went on, and told him of the little plan which he had been concerting with the corporal the night before for him.-

-You shall go home directly, Le Fever, said my uncle Toby, to my house,-and we'll send for a doctor to see what's the matter,-and we'll have an apothecary,-and the corporal shall be your nurse;-and I'll be your servant, Le Fever.

There was a frankness in my uncle Toby,-not the effect of familiarity,-but the cause of it,-which let you at once into his soul, and shewed you the goodness of his nature; to this there was something in his looks, and voice, and manner, superadded, which eternally beckoned to the unfortunate to come and take shelter under him, so that before my uncle Toby had half finished the kind offers he was making to the father, had the son insensibly pressed up close to his knees, and had taken hold of the breast of his coat, and was pulling it towards him.-The blood and spirits of Le Fever, which were waxing cold and slow within him, and were retreating to their last citadel, the heart-rallied back,-the film forsook his eyes for a moment,-he looked up wishfully in my uncle Toby's face,-then cast a look upon his boy,-and that ligament, fine as it was,-was never broken.-

Nature instantly ebb'd again,-the film returned to its place,-the pulse fluttered-stopp'd-went on-throbb'd-stopp'd again-moved-stopp'd-shall I go on?-No.

Chapter 3.LIV.

I am so impatient to return to my own story, that what remains of young Le Fever's, that is, from this turn of his fortune, to the time my uncle Toby recommended him for my preceptor, shall be told in a very few words in the next chapter.-All that is necessary to be added to this chapter is as follows.-

That my uncle Toby, with young Le Fever in his hand, attended the poor lieutenant, as chief mourners, to his grave.

That the governor of Dendermond paid his obsequies all military honours,-and that Yorick, not to be behind-hand-paid him all ecclesiastic-for he buried him in his chancel:-And it appears likewise, he preached a funeral sermon over him-I say it appears,-for it was Yorick's custom, which I suppose a general one with those of his profession, on the first leaf of every sermon which he composed, to chronicle down the time, the place, and the occasion of its being preached: to this, he was ever wont to add some short comment or stricture upon the sermon itself, seldom, indeed, much to its credit:-For instance, This sermon upon the Jewish dispensation-I don't like it at all;-Though I own there is a world of Water-Landish knowledge in it;-but 'tis all tritical, and most tritically put together.-This is but a flimsy kind of a composition; what was in my head when I made it?

-N.B. The excellency of this text is, that it will suit any sermon,-and of this sermon,-that it will suit any text.-

-For this sermon I shall be hanged,-for I have stolen the greatest part of it. Doctor Paidagunes found me out. > Set a thief to catch a thief.-

On the back of half a dozen I find written, So, so, and no more-and upon a couple Moderato; by which, as far as one may gather from Altieri's Italian dictionary,-but mostly from the authority of a piece of green whipcord, which seemed to have been the unravelling of Yorick's whip-lash, with which he has left us the two sermons marked Moderato, and the half dozen of So, so, tied fast together in one bundle by themselves,-one may safely suppose he meant pretty near the same thing.

There is but one difficulty in the way of this conjecture, which is this, that the moderato's are five times better than the so, so's;-show ten times more knowledge of the human heart;-have seventy times more wit and spirit in them;-(and, to rise properly in my climax)-discovered a thousand times more genius;-and to crown all, are infinitely more entertaining than those tied up with them:-for which reason, whene'er Yorick's dramatic sermons are offered to the world, though I shall admit but one out of the whole number of the so, so's, I shall, nevertheless, adventure to print the two moderato's without any sort of scruple.

What Yorick could mean by the words lentamente,-tenute,-grave,-and sometimes adagio,-as applied to theological compositions, and with which he has characterised some of these sermons, I dare not venture to guess.-I am more puzzled still upon finding a l'octava alta! upon one;-Con strepito upon the back of another;-Scicilliana upon a third;-Alla capella upon a fourth;-Con l'arco upon this;-Senza l'arco upon that.-All I know is, that they are musical terms, and have a meaning;-and as he was a musical man, I will make no doubt, but that by some quaint application of such metaphors to the compositions in hand, they impressed very distinct ideas of their several characters upon his fancy,-whatever they may do upon that of others.

Amongst these, there is that particular sermon which has unaccountably led me into this digression-The funeral sermon upon poor Le Fever, wrote out very fairly, as if from a hasty copy.-I take notice of it the more, because it seems to have been his favourite composition-It is upon mortality; and is tied length-ways and cross-ways with a yarn thrum, and then rolled up and twisted round with a half-sheet of dirty blue paper, which seems to have been once the cast cover of a general review, which to this day smells horribly of horse drugs.-Whether these marks of humiliation were designed,-I something doubt;-because at the end of the sermon (and not at the beginning of it)-very different from his way of treating the rest, he had wrote-Bravo!

-Though not very offensively,-for it is at two inches, at least, and a half's distance from, and below the concluding line of the sermon, at the very extremity of the page, and in that right hand corner of it, which, you know, is generally covered with your thumb; and, to do it justice, it is wrote besides with a crow's quill so faintly in a small Italian hand, as scarce to solicit the eye towards the place, whether your thumb is there or not,-so that from the manner of it, it stands half excused; and being wrote moreover with very pale ink, diluted almost to nothing,-'tis more like a ritratto of the shadow of vanity, than of Vanity herself-of the two; resembling rather a faint thought of transient applause, secretly stirring up in the heart of the composer; than a gross mark of it, coa.r.s.ely obtruded upon the world.

With all these extenuations, I am aware, that in publishing this, I do no service to Yorick's character as a modest man;-but all men have their failings! and what lessens this still farther, and almost wipes it away, is this; that the word was struck through sometime afterwards (as appears from a different tint of the ink) with a line quite across it in this manner, BRAVO (crossed out)-as if he had retracted, or was ashamed of the opinion he had once entertained of it.