The life and opinions of Tristram Shandy, gentleman

any difficulty past, present, or to come, that the imagination may not pass over without offence, in that sweet secession. “God’s blessing,” said _Sancho Pança_, “be upon the man who first invented this self-same thing called sleep—it covers a man all over like a cloak.” Now there is more to me in this, and it speaks warmer to my heart and affections, than all the dissertations squeez’d out of the heads of the learned together upon the subject. —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 looked 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_) ’est pas toujours du Côté de la Verité.” And so much for sleep. C H A P. LI 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 up stairs, 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. C H A P. LII 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 this 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 any think 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 any think 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. C H A P. LIII 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 firelock.——Or when he marches up the glacis? cried my uncle _Toby_, looking warm and setting his foot upon his stool.—— C H A P. LIV 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 forth 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