— Not that I altogether disapprove of what Montaigne advances upon it— ’tis admirable in its way — (I quote by memory).
The world enjoys other pleasures, says he, as they do that of sleep, without tasting or feeling it as it slips and passes by. — We should study and ruminate upon it, in order to render proper thanks to him who grants it to us. — For this end I cause myself to be disturbed in my sleep, that I may the better and more sensibly relish it. — And yet I see few, says he again, who live with less sleep, when need requires; my body is capable of a firm, but not of a violent and sudden agitation — I evade of late all violent exercises — I am never weary with walking — but from my youth, I never liked to ride upon pavements. I love to lie hard and alone, and even without my wife — This last word may stagger the faith of the world — but remember, “La Vraisemblance (as Bayle says in the affair of Liceti) n’est pas toujours du Côté de la Verité.” And so much for sleep.
CHAPTER XVI
If my wife will but venture him — brother Toby, Trismegistus shall be dress’d and brought down to us, whilst you and I are getting our breakfasts together. —
— Go, tell Susannah, Obadiah, to step here.
She is run upstairs, answered Obadiah, this very instant, sobbing and crying, and wringing her hands as if her heart would break.
We shall have a rare month of it, said my father, turning his head from Obadiah, and looking wistfully in my uncle Toby’s face for some time — we shall have a devilish month of it, brother Toby, said my father, setting his arms a-kimbo, and shaking his head; fire, water, women, wind — brother Toby!— ’Tis some misfortune, quoth my uncle Toby. — That it is, cried my father — to have so many jarring elements breaking loose, and riding triumph in every corner of a gentleman’s house — Little boots it to the peace of a family, brother Toby, that you and I possess ourselves, and sit here silent and unmoved — whilst such a storm is whistling over our heads. —
And what’s the matter, Susannah? They have called the child Tristram — and my mistress is just got out of an hysterick fit about it — No— ’tis not my fault, said Susannah — I told him it was Tristram-gistus.
— Make tea for yourself, brother Toby, said my father, taking down his hat — but how different from the sallies and agitations of voice and members which a common reader would imagine!
— For he spake in the sweetest modulation — and took down his hat with the genteelest movement of limbs, that ever affliction harmonized and attuned together.
— Go to the bowling-green for corporal Trim, said my uncle Toby, speaking to Obadiah, as soon as my father left the room.
CHAPTER XVII
When the misfortune of my NOSE fell so heavily upon my father’s head; — the reader remembers that he walked instantly up stairs, and cast himself down upon his bed; and from hence, unless he has a great insight into human nature, he will be apt to expect a rotation of the same ascending and descending movements from him, upon his misfortune of my NAME; — no.
The different weight, dear Sir — nay even the different package of two vexations of the same weight — makes a very wide difference in our manner of bearing and getting through with them. — It is not half an hour ago, when (in the great hurry and precipitation of a poor devil’s writing for daily bread) I threw a fair sheet, which I had just finished, and carefully wrote out, slap into the fire, instead of the foul one.
Instantly I snatch’d off my wig, and threw it perpendicularly, with all imaginable violence, up to the top of the room — indeed I caught it as it fell — but there was an end of the matter; nor do I think anything else in Nature would have given such immediate ease: She, dear Goddess, by an instantaneous impulse, in all provoking cases, determines us to a sally of this or that member — or else she thrusts us into this or that place or posture of body, we know not why — But mark, madam, we live amongst riddles and mysteries — the most obvious things, which come in our way, have dark sides, which the quickest sight cannot penetrate into; and even the clearest and most exalted understandings amongst us find ourselves puzzled and at a loss in almost every cranny of nature’s works: so that this, like a thousand other things, falls out for us in a way, which tho’ we cannot reason upon it — yet we find the good of it, may it please your reverences and your worships — and that’s enough for us.
Now, my father could not lie down with this affliction for his life — nor could he carry it up stairs like the other — he walked composedly out with it to the fish-pond.
Had my father leaned his head upon his hand, and reasoned an hour which way to have gone — reason, with all her force, could not have directed him to anything like it: there is something, Sir, in fish-ponds — but what it is, I leave to system-builders and fish-pond-diggers betwixt ‘em to find out — but there is something, under the first disorderly transport of the humours, so unaccountably becalming in an orderly and a sober walk towards one of them, that I have often wondered that neither Pythagoras, nor Plato, nor Solon, nor Lycurgus, nor Mahomet, nor any one of your noted lawgivers, ever gave order about them.
CHAPTER XVIII
Your honour, said Trim, shutting the parlour-door before he began to speak, has heard, I imagine, of this unlucky accident — O yes, Trim, said my uncle Toby, and it gives me great concern. — I am heartily concerned too, but I hope your honour, replied Trim, will do me the justice to believe, that it was not in the least owing to me. — To thee — Trim? — cried my uncle Toby, looking kindly in his face— ’twas Susannah’s and the curate’s folly betwixt them. — What business could they have together, an’ please your honour, in the garden? — In the gallery thou meanest, replied my uncle Toby.
Trim found he was upon a wrong scent, and stopped short with a low bow — Two misfortunes, quoth the corporal to himself, are twice as many at least as are needful to be talked over at one time; — the mischief the cow has done in breaking into the fortifications, may be told his honour hereafter. — Trim’s casuistry and address, under the cover of his low bow, prevented all suspicion in my uncle Toby, so he went on with what he had to say to Trim as follows:
— For my own part, Trim, though I can see little or no difference betwixt my nephew’s being called Tristram or Trismegistus — yet as the thing sits so near my brother’s heart, Trim — I would freely have given a hundred pounds rather than it should have happened. — A hundred pounds, an’ please your honour! replied Trim, — I would not give a cherry-stone to boot. — Nor would I, Trim, upon my own account, quoth my uncle Toby, — but my brother, whom there is no arguing with in this case — maintains that a great deal more depends, Trim, upon christian-names, than what ignorant people imagine — for he says there never was a great or heroic action performed since the world began by one called Tristram — nay, he will have it, Trim, that a man can neither be learned, or wise, or brave.— ’Tis all fancy, an’ please your honour — I fought just as well, replied the corporal, when the regiment called me Trim, as when they called me James Butler. — And for my own part, said my uncle Toby, though I should blush to boast of myself, Trim — yet had my name been Alexander, I could have done no more at Namur than my duty. — Bless your honour! cried Trim, advancing three steps as he spoke, does a man think of his christian-name when he goes upon the attack? — Or when he stands in the trench, Trim? cried my uncle Toby, looking firm. — Or when he enters a breach? said Trim, pushing in between two chairs. — Or forces the lines? cried my uncle, rising up, and pushing his crutch like a pike. — Or facing a platoon? cried Trim, presenting his stick like a fire-lock. — Or when he marches up the glacis? cried my uncle Toby, looking warm and setting his foot upon his stool. —
CHAPTER XIX
My father was returned from his walk to the fish-pond — and opened the parlour-door in the very height of the attack, just as my uncle Toby was marching up the glacis — Trim recovered his arms — never was my uncle Toby caught in riding at such a desperate rate in his life! Alas! my uncle Toby! had not a weightier matter called for
th all the ready eloquence of my father — how hadst thou then and thy poor HOBBY-HORSE too been insulted!
My father hung up his hat with the same air he took it down; and after giving a slight look at the disorder of the room, he took hold of one of the chairs which had formed the corporal’s breach, and placing it over-against my uncle Toby, he sat down in it, and as soon as the tea-things were taken away, and the door shut, he broke out in a lamentation as follows.
MY FATHER’S LAMENTATION
It is in vain longer, said my father, addressing himself as much to Ernulphus’s curse, which was laid upon the corner of the chimney-piece — as to my uncle Toby who sat under it — it is in vain longer, said my father, in the most querulous monotony imaginable, to struggle as I have done against this most uncomfortable of human persuasions — I see it plainly, that either for my own sins, brother Toby, or the sins and follies of the Shandy family, Heaven has thought fit to draw forth the heaviest of its artillery against me; and that the prosperity of my child is the point upon which the whole force of it is directed to play. — Such a thing would batter the whole universe about our ears, brother Shandy, said my uncle Toby — if it was so — Unhappy Tristram: child of wrath! child of decrepitude! interruption! mistake! and discontent! What one misfortune or disaster in the book of embryotic evils, that could unmechanize thy frame, or entangle thy filaments! which has not fallen upon thy head, or ever thou camest into the world — what evils in thy passage into it! — what evils since! — produced into being, in the decline of thy father’s days — when the powers of his imagination and of his body were waxing feeble — when radical heat and radical moisture, the elements which should have temper’d thine, were drying up; and nothing left to found thy stamina in, but negations— ’tis pitiful — brother Toby, at the best, and called out for all the little helps that care and attention on both sides could give it. But how were we defeated! You know the event, brother Toby— ’tis too melancholy a one to be repeated now — when the few animal spirits I was worth in the world, and with which memory, fancy, and quick parts should have been convey’d — were all dispersed, confused, confounded, scattered, and sent to the devil. —
Here then was the time to have put a stop to this persecution against him; — and tried an experiment at least — whether calmness and serenity of mind in your sister, with a due attention, brother Toby, to her evacuations and repletions — and the rest of her non-naturals, might not, in a course of nine months gestation, have set all things to rights. — My child was bereft of these! — What a teazing life did she lead herself, and consequently her fœtus too, with that nonsensical anxiety of hers about lying-in in town? I thought my sister submitted with the greatest patience, replied my uncle Toby — I never heard her utter one fretful word about it. — She fumed inwardly, cried my father; and that, let me tell you, brother, was ten times worse for the child — and then! what battles did she fight with me, and what perpetual storms about the midwife. — There she gave vent, said my uncle Toby. — Vent! cried my father, looking up.
But what was all this, my dear Toby, to the injuries done us by my child’s coming head foremost into the world, when all I wished, in this general wreck of his frame, was to have saved this little casket unbroke, unrifled. —
With all my precautions, how was my system turned topside-turvy in the womb with my child! his head exposed to the hand of violence, and a pressure of 470 pounds avoirdupois weight acting so perpendicularly upon its apex — that at this hour ’tis ninety per Cent. insurance, that the fine net-work of the intellectual web be not rent and torn to a thousand tatters.
— Still we could have done. — Fool, coxcomb, puppy — give him but a NOSE — Cripple, Dwarf, Driveller, Goosecap — (shape him as you will) the door of fortune stands open — O Licetus! Licetus! had I been blest with a fœtus five inches long and a half, like thee — Fate might have done her worst.
Still, brother Toby, there was one cast of the dye left for our child after all — O Tristram! Tristram! Tristram!
We will send for Mr. Yorick, said my uncle Toby.
— You may send for whom you will, replied my father.
CHAPTER XX
What a rate have I gone on at, curvetting and frisking it away, two up and two down for four volumes together, without looking once behind, or even on one side of me, to see whom I trod upon! — I’ll tread upon no one — quoth I to myself when I mounted — I’ll take a good rattling gallop; but I’ll not hurt the poorest jackass upon the road. — So off I set — up one lane — down another, through this turnpike — over that, as if the arch-jockey of jockeys had got behind me.
Now ride at this rate with what good intention and resolution you may— ’tis a million to one you’ll do some one a mischief, if not yourself — He’s flung — he’s off — he’s lost his hat — he’s down — he’ll break his neck — see! — if he has not galloped full among the scaffolding of the undertaking criticks! — he’ll knock his brains out against some of their posts — he’s bounced out! — look — he’s now riding like a mad-cap full tilt through a whole crowd of painters, fiddlers, poets, biographers, physicians, lawyers, logicians, players, schoolmen, churchmen, statesmen, soldiers, casuists, connoisseurs, prelates, popes, and engineers. — Don’t fear, said I — I’ll not hurt the poorest jack-ass upon the king’s highway. — But your horse throws dirt; see you’ve splash’d a bishop. — I hope in God, ’twas only Ernulphus, said I. — But you have squirted full in the faces of Mess. Le Moyne, De Romigny, and De Marcilly, doctors of the Sorbonne. — That was last year, replied I. — But you have trod this moment upon a king. — Kings have bad times on’t, said I, to be trod upon by such people as me.
You have done it, replied my accuser.
I deny it, quoth I, and so have got off, and here am I standing with my bridle in one hand, and with my cap in the other, to tell my story. — And what is it? You shall hear in the next chapter.
[Footnote 4.8: According to the original Editions.]
CHAPTER XXI
As Francis the first of France was one winterly night warming himself over the embers of a wood fire, and talking with his first minister of sundry things for the good of the state — It would not be amiss, said the king, stirring up the embers with his cane, if this good understanding betwixt ourselves and Switzerland was a little strengthened. — There is no end, Sire, replied the minister, in giving money to these people — they would swallow up the treasury of France. — Poo! poo! answered the king — there are more ways, Mons. le Premier, of bribing states, besides that of giving money — I’ll pay Switzerland the honour of standing godfather for my next child. — Your majesty, said the minister, in so doing, would have all the grammarians in Europe upon your back; — Switzerland, as a republick, being a female, can in no construction be godfather. — She may be godmother, replied Francis hastily — so announce my intentions by a courier to-morrow morning.
I am astonished, said Francis the First, (that day fortnight) speaking to his minister as he entered the closet, that we have had no answer from Switzerland. — Sire, I wait upon you this moment, said Mons. le Premier, to lay before you my dispatches upon that business. — They take it kindly, said the king. — They do, Sire, replied the minister, and have the highest sense of the honour your majesty has done them — but the republick, as godmother, claims her right, in this case, of naming the child.
In all reason, quoth the king — she will christen him Francis, or Henry, or Lewis, or some name that she knows will be agreeable to us. Your majesty is deceived, replied the minister — I have this hour received a dispatch from our resident, with the determination of the republick on that point also. — And what name has the republick fixed upon for the Dauphin? — Shadrach, Meshech, Abed-nego, replied the minister. — By Saint Peter’s girdle, I will have nothing to do with the Swiss, cried Francis the First, pulling up his breeches and walking hastily across the floor.
Your majesty, replied the minister calmly, cannot bring yourself off.
Sire, there are not sixty thousand crowns in the treasury, answered the minister. — I’ll pawn the best jewel in my crown, quoth Francis the First.
Your honour stands pawn’d already in this matter, answered Monsieur le
Premier.
Then, Mons. le Premier, said the king, by — we’ll go to war with ‘em.
[Footnote 4.9: Vide Menagiana, Vol. I.]
CHAPTER XXII
Albeit, gentle reader, I have lusted earnestly, and endeavoured carefully (according to the measure of such a slender skill as God has vouchsafed me, and as convenient leisure from other occasions of needful profit and healthful pastime have permitted) that these little books which I here put into thy hands, might stand instead of many bigger books — yet have I carried myself towards thee in such fanciful guise of careless disport, that right sore am I ashamed now to intreat thy lenity seriously — in beseeching thee to believe it of me, that in the story of my father and his christian-names — I have no thoughts of treading upon Francis the First — nor in the affair of the nose — upon Francis the Ninth — nor in the character of my uncle Toby — of characterizing the militiating spirits of my country — the wound upon his groin, is a wound to every comparison of that kind — nor by Trim — that I meant the duke of Ormond — or that my book is wrote against predestination, or free-will, or taxes — If ’tis wrote against any thing,— ’tis wrote, an’ please your worships, against the spleen! in order, by a more frequent and a more convulsive elevation and depression of the diaphragm, and the succussations of the intercostal and abdominal muscles in laughter, to drive the gall and other bitter juices from the gallbladder, liver, and sweet-bread of his majesty’s subjects, with all the inimicitious passions which belong to them, down into their duodenums.
Complete Works of Laurence Sterne Page 33