The Life and Opinions of Tristram Shandy, Gentleman (Penguin Classics)

by Laurence Sterne

  Now, my dear friend Garrick, whom I have so much cause to esteem and honour,—(why, or wherefore, ’tis no matter)—can it escape your penetration,—I defy it,—that so many playwrights, and opificers3 of chit chat have ever since been working upon Trim’s and my uncle Toby’s pattern.—I care not what Aristotle, or Pacuvius, or Bossu, or Ricaboni4 say,—(though I never read one of them)——there is not a greater difference between a single-horse chair and madam Pompadour’s vis a vis,5 than betwixt a single amour, and an amour thus nobly doubled, and going upon all four, prancing throughout a grand drama.—Sir, a simple, single, silly affair of that kind,——is quite lost in five acts,——but that is neither here or there.

  After a series of attacks and repulses in a course of nine months on my uncle Toby’s quarter, a most minute account of every particular of which shall be given in its proper place, my uncle Toby, honest man! found it necessary to draw off his forces, and raise the siege somewhat indignantly.

  Corporal Trim, as I said, had made no such bargain either with himself——or with any one else,—–the fidelity however of his heart not suffering him to go into a house which his master had forsaken with disgust,——he contented himself with turning his part of the siege into a blockade;——that is, he kept others off,—for though he never after went to the house, yet he never met Bridget in the village, but he would either nod or wink, or smile, or look kindly at her,—or (as circumstances directed), he would shake her by the hand,——or ask her lovingly how she did,—–or would give her a ribban,——and now and then, though never but when it could be done with decorum, would give Bridget a ———

  Precisely in this situation, did these things stand for five years; that is, from the demolition of Dunkirk in the year 13, to the latter end of my uncle Toby’s campaign in the year 18, which was about six or seven weeks before the time I’m speaking of.— When Trim, as his custom was, after he had put my uncle Toby to bed, going down one moon-shiny night to see that every thing was right at his fortifications,——in the lane separated from the bowling-green with flowering shrubs and holly,—he espied his Bridget.

  As the corporal thought there was nothing in the world so well worth shewing as the glorious works which he and my uncle Toby had made, Trim courteously and gallantly took her by the hand, and led her in: this was not done so privately, but that the foul-mouth’d trumpet of Fame6 carried it from ear to ear, till at length it reached my father’s, with this untoward circumstance along with it, that my uncle Toby’s curious drawbridge, constructed and painted after the Dutch fashion, and which went quite across the ditch,—was broke down, and some how or other crush’d all to pieces that very night.

  My father, as you have observed, had no great esteem for my uncle Toby’s hobby-horse,—he thought it the most ridiculous horse that ever gentleman mounted, and indeed unless my uncle Toby vexed him about it, could never think of it once, without smiling at it,——so that it never could get lame or happen any mischance, but it tickled my father’s imagination beyond measure; but this being an accident much more to his humour than any one which had yet befall’n it, it proved an inexhaustible fund of entertainment to him.——Well,—–but dear Toby! my father would say, do tell me seriously how this affair of the bridge happened.——How can you teaze me so much about it? my uncle Toby would reply,—I have told it you twenty times, word for word as Trim told it me.—Prithee, how was it then, corporal? my father would cry, turning to Trim.—It was a mere misfortune, an’ please your honour,——I was shewing Mrs. Bridget our fortifications, and in going too near the edge of the fossè, I unfortunately slip’d in.——Very well Trim! my father would cry,—(smiling mysteriously, and giving a nod,——but without interrupting him)———and being link’d fast, an’ please your honour, arm in arm with Mrs. Bridget, I dragg’d her after me, by means of which she fell backwards soss7 against the bridge,——and Trim’s foot, (my uncle Toby would cry, taking the story out of his mouth) getting into the cuvette, he tumbled full against the bridge too.—It was a thousand to one, my uncle Toby would add, that the poor fellow did not break his leg.8—Ay truly! my father would say,——a limb is soon broke, brother Toby, in such encounters.——And so, an’ please your honour, the bridge, which your honour knows was a very slight one, was broke down betwixt us, and splintered all to pieces.

  At other times, but especially when my uncle Toby was so unfortunate as to say a syllable about cannons, bombs or petards,—–my father would exhaust all the stores of his eloquence (which indeed were very great) in a panegyric upon the BATTERING-RAMS9 of the ancients,—the VINEA which Alexander made use of at the siege of Tyre.——He would tell my uncle Toby of the CATAPULTÆ of the Syrians which threw such monstrous stones so many hundred feet, and shook the strongest bulwarks from their very foundation;—he would go on and describe the wonderful mechanism of the BALLISTA, which Marcellinus makes so much rout about,—the terrible effects of the PYRABOLI,—which cast fire,——the danger of the TEREBRA and SCORPIO, which cast javelins.—But what are these, he would say, to the destructive machinery of corporal Trim?—Believe me, brother Toby, no bridge, or bastion, or sally port10 that ever was constructed in this world, can hold out against such artillery.

  My uncle Toby would never attempt any defence against the force of this ridicule, but that of redoubling the vehemence of smoaking his pipe; in doing which, he raised so dense a vapour one night after supper, that it set my father, who was a little phthisical, into a suffocating fit of violent coughing: my uncle Toby leap’d up without feeling the pain upon his groin,—and, with infinite pity, stood beside his brother’s chair, tapping his back with one hand, and holding his head with the other, and from time to time, wiping his eyes with a clean cambrick handkerchief, which he pull’d out of his pocket.——The affectionate and endearing manner in which my uncle Toby did these little offices,—–cut my father thro’ his reins, for the pain he had just been giving him.——May my brains be knock’d out with a battering ram or a catapulta, I care not which, quoth my father to himself,——if ever I insult this worthy soul more.

  CHAP. XXV.

  THE draw-bridge being held irreparable, Trim was ordered directly to set about another,——but not upon the same model; for cardinal Alberoni’s intrigues1 at that time being discovered, and my uncle Toby rightly foreseeing that a flame would inevitably break out betwixt Spain and the Empire, and that the operations of the ensuing campaign must in all likelihood be either in Naples or Scicily,——he determined upon an Italian bridge,—(my uncle Toby, by the bye, was not far out in his conjectures)——but my father, who was infinitely the better politician, and took the lead as far of my uncle Toby in the cabinet, as my uncle Toby took it of him in the field,—convinced him, that if the King of Spain and the Emperor went together by the ears, that England and France and Holland must, by force of their pre-engagements, all enter the lists too;——and if so, he would say, the combatants, brother Toby, as sure as we are alive, will fall to it again, pell-mell, upon the old prizefighting stage of Flanders;——then what will you do with your Italian bridge?

  ——We will go on with it then, upon the old model, cried my uncle Toby.

  When corporal Trim had about half finished it in that stile, ——my uncle Toby found out a capital defect in it, which he had never thoroughly considered before. It turned, it seems, upon hinges at both ends of it, opening in the middle, one half of which turning to one side of the fossè, and the other, to the other; the advantage of which was this, that by dividing the weight of the bridge into two equal portions, it impowered my uncle Toby to raise it up or let it down with the end of his crutch, and with one hand, which, as his garrison was weak, was as much as he could well spare,—but the disadvantages of such a construction were insurmountable,——for by this means, he would say, I leave one half of my bridge in my enemy’s possession,——and pray of what use is the other?

  The natural remedy for this, was no doubt to have his bridge fast only at one end with hinges, so th
at the whole might be lifted up together, and stand bolt upright,——but that was rejected for the reason given above.

  For a whole week after he was determined in his mind to have one of that particular construction which is made to draw back horizontally, to hinder a passage; and to thrust forwards again to gain a passage,——of which sorts your worships might have seen three famous ones at Spires before its destruction,—and one now at Brisac, if I mistake not;——but my father advising my uncle Toby, with great earnestness, to have nothing more to do with thrusting bridges,—and my uncle foreseeing moreover that it would but perpetuate the memory of the corporal’s misfortune,—–he changed his mind, for that of the marquis d’Hôpital’s invention, which the younger Bernouilli has so well and learnedly described, as your worships may see,— Act. Erud. Lips. an. 1695,—to these a lead weight is an eternal ballance, and keeps watch as well as a couple of centinels, inasmuch as the construction of them was a curve-line approximating to a cycloid,——if not a cycloid itself.2

  My uncle Toby understood the nature of a parabola as well as any man in England,—but was not quite such a master of the cycloid;—he talked however about it every day;——the bridge went not forwards.——We’ll ask somebody about it, cried my uncle Toby to Trim.

  CHAP. XXVI.

  WHEN Trim came in and told my father, that Dr. Slop was in the kitchen, and busy in making a bridge,—my uncle Toby,—–the affair of the jack-boots having just then raised a train of military ideas in his brain,—–took it instantly for granted that Dr. Slop was making a model of the marquis d’Hôpital’s bridge.——’Tis very obliging in him, quoth my uncle Toby;——pray give my humble service to Dr. Slop, Trim, and tell him I thank him heartily.

  Had my uncle Toby’s head been a Savoyard’s box,1 and my father peeping in all the time at one end of it,——it could not have given him a more distinct conception of the operations in my uncle Toby’s imagination, than what he had; so notwithstanding the catapulta and battering-ram, and his bitter imprecation about them, he was just beginning to triumph———

  When Trim’s answer, in an instant, tore the laurel from his brows, and twisted it to pieces.

  CHAP. XXVII.

  ——THIS unfortunate draw-bridge of yours quoth my Father—god bless you honour cried Trim ’tis a bridge for master’s nose.——In bringing him into the world with his vile instruments, he has crush’d his nose, Susannah says, as flat as a pancake to his face, and he is making a false bridge with a piece of cotton and a thin piece of whalebone out of Susannah’s stays, to raise it up.

  ———Lead me, brother Toby, cried my father, to my room this instant.

  CHAP. XXVIII.

  FROM the first moment I sat down to write my life for the amusement of the world, and my opinions for its instruction, has a cloud insensibly been gathering over my father.——A tide of little evils and distresses has been setting in against him.—— Not one thing, as he observed himself, has gone right: and now is the storm thicken’d, and going to break, and pour down full upon his head.

  I enter upon this part of my story in the most pensive and melancholy frame of mind, that ever sympathetic breast was touched with.———My nerves relax as I tell it.———Every line I write, I feel an abatement of the quickness of my pulse, and of that careless alacrity with it, which every day of my life prompts me to say and write a thousand things I should not.——And this moment that I last dipp’d my pen into my ink, I could not help taking notice what a cautious air of sad composure and solemnity there appear’d in my manner of doing it. ——Lord! how different from the rash jerks, and hare-brain’d squirts thou art wont, Tristram! to transact it with in other humours,——dropping thy pen,—spurting thy ink about thy table and thy books,——as if thy pen and thy ink, thy books and thy furniture cost thee nothing.

  CHAP. XXIX.

  ——I WON’T go about to argue the point with you,—’tis so,—and I am persuaded of it, madam, as much as can be, “That both man and woman bear pain or sorrow, (and, for aught I know, pleasure too) best in a horizontal position.”

  The moment my father got up into his chamber, he threw himself prostrate across his bed in the wildest disorder imaginable, but at the same time, in the most lamentable attitude of a man borne down with sorrows, that ever the eye of pity dropp’d a tear for.——The palm of his right hand, as he fell upon the bed, receiving his forehead, and covering the greatest part of both his eyes, gently sunk down with his head (his elbow giving way backwards) till his nose touch’d the quilt;——his left arm hung insensible over the side of the bed, his knuckles reclining upon the handle of the chamber pot, which peep’d out beyond the valance,—his right leg (his left being drawn up towards his body) hung half over the side of the bed, the edge of it pressing upon his shin-bone.——He felt it not. A fix’d, inflexible sorrow took possession of every line of his face.—He sigh’d once,—– heaved his breast often,—but utter’d not a word.

  An old set-stitch’d chair, valanced and fringed around with party-colour’d worsted bobs, stood at the bed’s head, opposite to the side where my father’s head reclined.——My uncle Toby sat him down in it.

  Before an affliction is digested,——consolation ever comes too soon;——and after it is digested,—–it comes too late: so that you see, madam, there is but a mark between these two, as fine almost as a hair, for a comforter to take aim at: my uncle Toby was always either on this side, or on that of it, and would often say, He believed in his heart, he could as soon hit the longitude;1 for this reason, when he sat down in the chair, he drew the curtain a little forwards, and having a tear at every one’s service,—he pull’d out a cambrick handkerchief,—— gave a low sigh,——but held his peace.

  CHAP. XXX.

  ——“ALL is not gain that is got into the purse.”——So that notwithstanding my father had the happiness of reading the oddest books in the universe, and had moreover, in himself, the oddest way of thinking, that ever man in it was bless’d with, yet it had this drawback upon him after all,——that it laid him open to some of the oddest and most whimsical distresses; of which this particular one which he sunk under at present is as strong an example as can be given.

  No doubt, the breaking down of the bridge of a child’s nose, by the edge of a pair of forceps,—–however scientifically applied,——would vex any man in the world, who was at so much pains in begetting a child, as my father was,——yet it will not account for the extravagance of his affliction, or will it justify the unchristian manner he abandoned and surrender’d himself up to it.

  To explain this, I must leave him upon the bed for half an hour,——and my good uncle Toby in his old fringed chair sitting beside him.

  CHAP. XXXI.

  ——I THINK it a very unreasonable demand,——cried my great grandfather, twisting up the paper, and throwing it upon the table.——By this account, madam, you have but two thousand pounds fortune, and not a shilling more,——and you insist upon having three hundred pounds a year jointure for it.——

  —“Because,” replied my great grandmother, “you have little or no nose, Sir.”———

  Now, before I venture to make use of the word Nose1 a second time,—–to avoid all confusion in what will be said upon it, in this interesting part of my story, it may not be amiss to explain my own meaning, and define, with all possible exactness and precision, what I would willingly be understood to mean by the term: being of opinion, that ’tis owing to the negligence and perverseness of writers, in despising this precaution, and to nothing else,——That all the polemical writings in divinity, are not as clear and demonstrative as those upon a Will o’ the Wisp, or any other sound part of philosophy, and natural pursuit; in order to which, what have you to do, before you set out, unless you intend to go puzzling on to the day of judgment,———but to give the world a good definition, and stand to it, of the main word you have most occasion for,— changing it, Sir, as you would aguinea, into small coin?—which done,—let the father
of confusion puzzle you, if he can; or put a different idea either into your head, or your reader’s head, if he knows how.

  In books of strict morality and close reasoning, such as this I am engaged in,—the neglect is inexcusable; and heaven is witness, how the world has revenged itself upon me for leaving so many openings to equivocal strictures,—and for depending so much as I have done, all along, upon the cleanliness of my reader’s imaginations.

  ———Here are two senses, cried Eugenius, as we walk’d along, pointing with the fore finger of his right hand to the word Crevice, in the fifty-second page of the second volume * of this book of books,—here are two senses,——quoth he.——And here are two roads, replied I, turning short upon him,——a dirty and a clean one,——which shall we take?——The clean,—by all means, replied Eugenius. Eugenius, said I, stepping before him, and laying my hand upon his breast,——to define—–is to distrust.—–Thus I triumph’d over Eugenius; but I triumph’d over him as I always do, like a fool.——’Tis my comfort however, I am not an obstinate one; therefore

  I define a nose, as follows,——intreating only beforehand, and beseeching my readers, both male and female, of what age, complexion, and condition soever, for the love of God and their own souls, to guard against the temptations and suggestions of the devil, and suffer him by no art or wile to put any other ideas into their minds, than what I put into my definition.——For by the word Nose, throughout all this long chapter of noses, and in every other part of my work, where the word Nose occurs,— I declare, by that word I mean a Nose, and nothing more, or less.

  CHAP. XXXII.