It is not my business to dip my pen in this controversy——much undoubtedly may be wrote on both sides of the question—all that concerns me as an historian, is to represent the matter of fact, and render it credible to the reader, that the hiatus in _Phutatorius_’s breeches was sufficiently wide to receive the chesnut;——and that the chesnut, somehow or other, did fall perpendicularly, and piping hot into it, without _Phutatorius_’s perceiving it, or any one else at that time.
The genial warmth which the chesnut imparted, was not undelectable for the first twenty or five-and-twenty seconds——and did no more than gently solicit _Phutatorius_’s attention towards the part:——But the heat gradually increasing, and in a few seconds more getting beyond the point of all sober pleasure, and then advancing with all speed into the regions of pain, the soul of _Phutatorius_, together with all his ideas, his thoughts, his attention, his imagination, judgment, resolution, deliberation, ratiocination, memory, fancy, with ten battalions of animal spirits, all tumultuously crowded down, through different defiles and circuits, to the place of danger, leaving all his upper regions, as you may imagine, as empty as my purse.
With the best intelligence which all these messengers could bring him back, _Phutatorius_ was not able to dive into the secret of what was going forwards below, nor could he make any kind of conjecture, what the devil was the matter with it: However, as he knew not what the true cause might turn out, he deemed it most prudent in the situation he was in at present, to bear it, if possible, like a Stoick; which, with the help of some wry faces and compursions of the mouth, he had certainly accomplished, had his imagination continued neuter;——but the sallies of the imagination are ungovernable in things of this kind—a thought instantly darted into his mind, that tho’ the anguish had the sensation of glowing heat—it might, notwithstanding that, be a bite as well as a burn; and if so, that possibly a _Newt_ or an _Asker_, or some such detested reptile, had crept up, and was fastening his teeth——the horrid idea of which, with a fresh glow of pain arising that instant from the chesnut, seized _Phutatorius_ with a sudden panick, and in the first terrifying disorder of the passion, it threw him, as it has done the best generals upon earth, quite off his guard:——the effect of which was this, that he leapt incontinently up, uttering as he rose that interjection of surprise so much descanted upon, with the aposiopestic break after it, marked thus, Z——ds—which, though not strictly canonical, was still as little as any man could have said upon the occasion;——and which, by-the-bye, whether canonical or not, _Phutatorius_ could no more help than he could the cause of it.
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, shall waft a belief into the soul, and plant it so immoveably within it——that _Euclid_’s demonstrations, 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.——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 played 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 enflamed 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 _Shakespeare_ said of his ancestor——“_was a man of jest_,” but it was temper’d with something which withheld 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._
C H A P. LXIII
—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, _Gastripheres_, what is best to take out the fire?——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 devil of it, replied _Yorick._——And besides, added _Eugenius_, it would not answer the intention, which is the extreme 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.——