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The Life and Opinions of Tristram Shandy, Gentleman
Chapter 2.XLII.
When I reflect, brother Toby, upon Man; and take a view of that dark
side of him which represents his life as open to so many causes of
trouble--when I consider, brother Toby, how oft we eat the bread of
affliction, and that we are born to it, as to the portion of our
inheritance--I was born to nothing, quoth my uncle Toby, interrupting
my father--but my commission. Zooks! said my father, did not my uncle
leave you a hundred and twenty pounds a year?--What could I have done
without it? replied my uncle Toby-- That's another concern, said my
father testily--But I say Toby, when one runs over the catalogue of
all the cross-reckonings and sorrowful Items with which the heart of
man is overcharged, 'tis wonderful by what hidden resources the mind
is enabled to stand out, and bear itself up, as it does, against the
impositions laid upon our nature.--'Tis by the assistance of Almighty
God, cried my uncle Toby, looking up, and pressing the palms of his
hands close together--'tis not from our own strength, brother
Shandy--a centinel in a wooden centry-box might as well pretend to
stand it out against a detachment of fifty men.--We are upheld by the
grace and the assistance of the best of Beings.
--That is cutting the knot, said my father, instead of untying
it,--But give me leave to lead you, brother Toby, a little deeper into
the mystery.
With all my heart, replied my uncle Toby.
My father instantly exchanged the attitude he was in, for that in
which Socrates is so finely painted by Raffael in his school of
Athens; which your connoisseurship knows is so exquisitely imagined,
that even the particular manner of the reasoning of Socrates is
expressed by it--for he holds the fore-finger of his left-hand between
the fore-finger and the thumb of his right, and seems as if he was
saying to the libertine he is reclaiming--'You grant me this--and
this: and this, and this, I don't ask of you--they follow of
themselves in course.'
So stood my father, holding fast his fore-finger betwixt his finger
and his thumb, and reasoning with my uncle Toby as he sat in his old
fringed chair, valanced around with party-coloured worsted bobs--O
Garrick!--what a rich scene of this would thy exquisite powers make!
and how gladly would I write such another to avail myself of thy
immortality, and secure my own behind it.
Chapter 2.XLIII.
Though man is of all others the most curious vehicle, said my father,
yet at the same time 'tis of so slight a frame, and so totteringly put
together, that the sudden jerks and hard jostlings it unavoidably
meets with in this rugged journey, would overset and tear it to pieces
a dozen times a day--was it not, brother Toby, that there is a secret
spring within us.--Which spring, said my uncle Toby, I take to be
Religion.--Will that set my child's nose on? cried my father, letting
go his finger, and striking one hand against the other.--It makes
every thing straight for us, answered my uncle Toby.--Figuratively
speaking, dear Toby, it may, for aught I know, said my father; but the
spring I am speaking of, is that great and elastic power within us of
counterbalancing evil, which, like a secret spring in a well-ordered
machine, though it can't prevent the shock- -at least it imposes upon
our sense of it.
Now, my dear brother, said my father, replacing his fore-finger, as he
was coming closer to the point--had my child arrived safe into the
world, unmartyr'd in that precious part of him--fanciful and
extravagant as I may appear to the world in my opinion of christian
names, and of that magic bias which good or bad names irresistibly
impress upon our characters and conducts--Heaven is witness! that in
the warmest transports of my wishes for the prosperity of my child, I
never once wished to crown his head with more glory and honour than
what George or Edward would have spread around it.
But alas! continued my father, as the greatest evil has befallen
him--I must counteract and undo it with the greatest good.
He shall be christened Trismegistus, brother.
I wish it may answer--replied my uncle Toby, rising up.
Chapter 2.XLIV.
What a chapter of chances, said my father, turning himself about upon
the first landing, as he and my uncle Toby were going down stairs,
what a long chapter of chances do the events of this world lay open to
us! Take pen and ink in hand, brother Toby, and calculate it
fairly--I know no more of calculation than this balluster, said my
uncle Toby (striking short of it with his crutch, and hitting my
father a desperate blow souse upon his shin-bone)--'Twas a hundred to
one-cried my uncle Toby--I thought, quoth my father, (rubbing his
shin) you had known nothing of calculations, brother Toby. a mere
chance, said my uncle Toby.--Then it adds one to the chapter- -replied
my father.
The double success of my father's repartees tickled off the pain of
his shin at once--it was well it so fell out--(chance! again)--or the
world to this day had never known the subject of my father's
calculation--to guess it--there was no chance--What a lucky chapter of
chances has this turned out! for it has saved me the trouble of
writing one express, and in truth I have enough already upon my hands
without it.--Have not I promised the world a chapter of knots? two
chapters upon the right and the wrong end of a woman? a chapter upon
whiskers? a chapter upon wishes?--a chapter of noses?--No, I have done
that--a chapter upon my uncle Toby's modesty? to say nothing of a
chapter upon chapters, which I will finish before I sleep- -by my
great grandfather's whiskers, I shall never get half of 'em through
this year.
Take pen and ink in hand, and calculate it fairly, brother Toby, said
my father, and it will turn out a million to one, that of all the
parts of the body, the edge of the forceps should have the ill luck
just to fall upon and break down that one part, which should break
down the fortunes of our house with it.
It might have been worse, replied my uncle Toby.--I don't comprehend,
said my father.--Suppose the hip had presented, replied my uncle Toby,
as Dr. Slop foreboded.
My father reflected half a minute--looked down--touched the middle of
his forehead slightly with his finger--
--True, said he.
Chapter 2.XLV.
Is it not a shame to make two chapters of what passed in going down
one pair of stairs? for we are got no farther yet than to the first
landing, and there are fifteen more steps down to the bottom; and for
aught I know, as my father and my uncle Toby are in a talking humour,
there may be as many chapters as steps:--let that be as it will, Sir,
I can no more help it than my destiny:--A sudden impulse comes across
me--drop the curtain, Shandy--I drop it--Strike a line here across the
paper, Tristram--I strike it--and hey for a new chapter.
The deuce of any other rule have I to govern myself by in this
affair--and if I had one--as I do all things out of all rule--I would
twist it and tear it to pieces, and throw it into the fire when I had
done--Am I warm? I am, and the cause demands it--a pretty story! is a
man to follow rules--or rules to follow him?
Now this, you must know, being my chapter upon chapters, which I
promised to write before I went to sleep, I thought it meet to ease my
conscience entirely before I laid down, by telling the world all I
knew about the matter at once: Is not this ten times better than to
set out dogmatically with a sententious parade of wisdom, and telling
the world a story of a roasted horse--that chapters relieve the
mind--that they assist--or impose upon the imagination--and that in a
work of this dramatic cast they are as necessary as the shifting of
scenes--with fifty other cold conceits, enough to extinguish the fire
which roasted him?--O! but to understand this, which is a puff at the
fire of Diana's temple--you must read Longinus--read away- -if you are
not a jot the wiser by reading him the first time over--never
fear--read him again--Avicenna and Licetus read Aristotle's
metaphysicks forty times through a-piece, and never understood a
single word.--But mark the consequence--Avicenna turned out a
desperate writer at all kinds of writing--for he wrote books de omni
scribili; and for Licetus (Fortunio) though all the world knows he was
born a foetus, (Ce Foetus n'etoit pas plus grand que la paume de la
main; mais son pere l'ayant examine en qualite de Medecin, & ayant
trouve que c'etoit quelque chose de plus qu'un Embryon, le fit
transporter tout vivant a Rapallo, ou il le fit voir a Jerome Bardi &
a d'autres Medecins du lieu. On trouva qu'il ne lui manquoit rien
d'essentiel a la vie; & son pere pour faire voir un essai de son
experience, entreprit d'achever l'ouvrage de la Nature, & de
travailler a la formation de l'Enfant avec le meme artifice que celui
dont on se sert pour faire ecclorre les Poulets en Egypte. Il
instruisit une Nourisse de tout ce qu'elle avoit a faire, & ayant fait
mettre son fils dans un pour proprement accommode, il reussit a
l'elever & a lui faire prendre ses accroissemens necessaires, par
l'uniformite d'une chaleur etrangere mesuree exactement sur les degres
d'un Thermometre, ou d'un autre instrument equivalent. (Vide Mich.
Giustinian, ne gli Scritt. Liguri a 223. 488.) On auroit toujours ete
tres satisfait de l'industrie d'un pere si experimente dans l'Art de
la Generation, quand il n'auroit pu prolonger la vie a son fils que
pour Puelques mois, ou pour peu d'annees. Mais quand on se represente
que l'Enfant a vecu pres de quatre-vingts ans, & qu'il a compose
quatre-vingts Ouvrages differents tous fruits d'une longue lecture--il
faut convenir que tout ce qui est incroyable n'est pas toujours faux,
& que la Vraisemblance n'est pas toujours du cote la Verite. Il
n'avoit que dix neuf ans lorsqu'il composa Gonopsychanthropologia de
Origine Animae humanae. (Les Enfans celebres, revus & corriges par M.
de la Monnoye de l'Academie Francoise.)) of no more than five inches
and a half in length, yet he grew to that astonishing height in
literature, as to write a book with a title as long as himself--the
learned know I mean his Gonopsychanthropologia, upon the origin of the
human soul.
So much for my chapter upon chapters, which I hold to be the best
chapter in my whole work; and take my word, whoever reads it, is full
as well employed, as in picking straws.
Chapter 2.XLVI.
We shall bring all things to rights, said my father, setting his foot
upon the first step from the landing.--This Trismegistus, continued my
father, drawing his leg back and turning to my uncle Toby--was the
greatest (Toby) of all earthly beings--he was the greatest king--the
greatest lawgiver--the greatest philosopher--and the greatest
priest--and engineer--said my uncle Toby.
--In course, said my father.
Chapter 2.XLVII.
--And how does your mistress? cried my father, taking the same step
over again from the landing, and calling to Susannah, whom he saw
passing by the foot of the stairs with a huge pin-cushion in her
hand--how does your mistress? As well, said Susannah, tripping by,
but without looking up, as can be expected.--What a fool am I! said my
father, drawing his leg back again--let things be as they will,
brother Toby, 'tis ever the precise answer--And how is the child,
pray?--No answer. And where is Dr. Slop? added my father, raising his
voice aloud, and looking over the ballusters-- Susannah was out of
hearing.
Of all the riddles of a married life, said my father, crossing the
landing in order to set his back against the wall, whilst he
propounded it to my uncle Toby--of all the puzzling riddles, said he,
in a marriage state,--of which you may trust me, brother Toby, there
are more asses loads than all Job's stock of asses could have
carried--there is not one that has more intricacies in it than
this--that from the very moment the mistress of the house is brought
to bed, every female in it, from my lady's gentlewoman down to the
cinder-wench, becomes an inch taller for it; and give themselves more
airs upon that single inch, than all their other inches put together.
I think rather, replied my uncle Toby, that 'tis we who sink an inch
lower.--If I meet but a woman with child--I do it.--'Tis a heavy tax
upon that half of our fellow-creatures, brother Shandy, said my uncle
Toby--'Tis a piteous burden upon 'em, continued he, shaking his
head--Yes, yes, 'tis a painful thing--said my father, shaking his head
too--but certainly since shaking of heads came into fashion, never did
two heads shake together, in concert, from two such different springs.
God bless / Deuce take 'em all--said my uncle Toby and my father, each
to himself.
Chapter 2.XVLIII.
Holla!--you, chairman!--here's sixpence--do step into that
bookseller's shop, and call me a day-tall critick. I am very willing
to give any one of 'em a crown to help me with his tackling, to get my
father and my uncle Toby off the stairs, and to put them to bed.
--'Tis even high time; for except a short nap, which they both got
whilst Trim was boring the jack-boots--and which, by-the-bye, did my
father no sort of good, upon the score of the bad hinge--they have not
else shut their eyes, since nine hours before the time that doctor
Slop was led into the back parlour in that dirty pickle by Obadiah.
Was every day of my life to be as busy a day as this--and to take up--
Truce.
I will not finish that sentence till I have made an observation upon
the strange state of affairs between the reader and myself, just as
things stand at present--an observation never applicable before to any
one biographical writer since the creation of the world, but to
myself--and I believe, will never hold good to any other, until its
final destruction-- and therefore, for the very novelty of it alone,
it must be worth your worships attending to.
I am this month one whole year older than I was this time
twelve-month; and having got, as you perceive, almost into the middle
of my third volume (According to the preceding Editions.)--and no
farther than to my first day's life--'tis demonstrative that I have
three hundred and sixty-four days more life to write just now, than
when I first set out; so that instead of advancing, as a common
writer, in my work with what I have been doing at it--on the contrary,
I am just thrown so many volumes back--was every day of my life to be
as busy a day as this--And why not?--and the transactions and opinions
of it to take up as much description--And for what reason should they
be cut short? as at this rate I should just live 364 times faster than
I should write--It must follow, an' please your worships, that the
more I write, the more I shall have to write--and consequently, the
more your worships read, the more your worships will have to read.
Will this be good for your worships eyes?
It will do well for mine; and, was it not that my Opinions will be the
death of me, I perceive I shall lead a fine life of it out of this
self- same life of mine; or, in other words, shall lead a couple of
fine lives together.
As for the proposal of twelve volumes a year, or a volume a month, it
no way alters my prospect--write as I will, and rush as I may into the
middle of things, as Horace advises--I shall never overtake myself
whipp'd and driven to the last pinch; at the worst I shall have one
day the start of my pen--and one day is enough for two volumes--and
two volumes will be enough for one year.--
Heaven prosper the manufacturers of paper under this propitious reign,
which is now opened to us--as I trust its providence will prosper
every thing else in it that is taken in hand.
As for the propagation of Geese--I give myself no concern--Nature is
all- bountiful--I shall never want tools to work with.
--So then, friend! you have got my father and my uncle Toby off the
stairs, and seen them to bed?--And how did you manage it?--You dropp'd
a curtain at the stair-foot--I thought you had no other way for
it--Here's a crown for your trouble.
Chapter 2.XLIX.
--Then reach me my breeches off the chair, said my father to
Susannah.-- There is not a moment's time to dress you, Sir, cried
Susannah--the child is as black in the face as my--As your what? said
my father, for like all orators, he was a dear searcher into
comparisons.--Bless, me, Sir, said Susannah, the child's in a
fit.--And where's Mr. Yorick?--Never where he should be, said
Susannah, but his curate's in the dressing-room, with the child upon
his arm, waiting for the name--and my mistress bid me run as fast as I
could to know, as captain Shandy is the godfather, whether it should
not be called after him.
Were one sure, said my father to himself, scratching his eye-brow,
that the child was expiring, one might as well compliment my brother
Toby as not-- and it would be a pity, in such a case, to throw away so
great a name as Trismegistus upon him--but he may recover.
No, no,--said my father to Susannah, I'll get up--There is no time,
cried Susannah, the child's as black as my shoe. Trismegistus, said
my father-- But stay--thou art a leaky vessel, Susannah, added my
father; canst thou carry Trismegistus in thy head, the length of the
gallery without scattering?--Can I? cried Susannah, shutting the door
in a huff.--If she can, I'll be shot, said my father, bouncing out of
bed in the dark, and groping for his breeches.
Susannah ran with all speed along the gallery.
My father made all possible speed to find his breeches.
Susannah got the start, and kept it--'Tis Tris--something, cried
Susannah-- There is no christian-name in the world, said the curate,
beginning with Tris--but Tristram. Then 'tis Tristram-gistus, quoth
Susannah.
--There is no gistus to it, noodle!--'tis my own name, replied the
curate, dipping his hand, as he spoke, into the bason--Tristram! said
he, &c. &c. &c. &c.--so Tristram was I called, and Tristram shall I be
to the day of my death.
My father followed Susannah, with his night-gown across his arm, with
nothing more than his breeches on, fastened through haste with but a
single button, and that button through haste thrust only half into the
button- hole.
--She has not forgot the name, cried my father, half opening the
door?--No, no, said the curate, with a tone of intelligence.--And the
child is better, cried Susannah.--And how does your mistress? As
well, said Susannah, as can be expected.--Pish! said my father, the
button of his breeches slipping out of the button-hole--So that
whether the interjection was levelled at Susannah, or the
button-hole--whether Pish was an interjection of contempt or an
interjection of modesty, is a doubt, and must be a doubt till I shall
have time to write the three following favourite chapters, that is, my
chapter of chamber-maids, my chapter of pishes, and my chapter of
button- holes.
All the light I am able to give the reader at present is this, that
the moment my father cried Pish! he whisk'd himself about--and with
his breeches held up by one hand, and his night-gown thrown across the
arm of the other, he turned along the gallery to bed, something slower
than he came.