The Life and Opinions of Tristram Shandy, Gentleman - Laurence Sterne [98]
Brother Toby, replied my father, altering his tone, you care not what money you dissipate and throw away, provided, continued he, ’tis but upon a SIEGE.—Have I not a hundred and twenty pounds a year, besides my half-pay? cried my uncle Toby.——What is that, replied my father, hastily,—to ten pounds for a pair of jack-boots?——twelve guineas for your pontoons,——half as much for your Dutch-draw-bridge;—to say nothing of the train of little brass-artillery you bespoke last week, with twenty other preparations for the siege of Messina; believe me, dear brother Toby, continued my father, taking him kindly by the hand,—these military operations of yours are above your strength;—you mean well, brother,—but they carry you into greater expences than you were first aware of,——and take my word,——dear Toby, they will in the end quite ruin your fortune, and make a beggar of you.——What signifies it if they do, brother, replied my uncle Toby, so long as we know ’tis for the good of the nation.—
My father could not help smiling for his soul;—his anger at the worst was never more than a spark,—and the zeal and simplicity of Trim,——and the generous (tho’ hobby-horsical) gallantry of my uncle Toby, brought him into perfect good humour with them in an instant.
Generous souls!—God prosper you both, and your mortar-pieces too, quoth my father to himself.
CHAP. XXIII
All is quiet and hush, cried my father, at least above stairs,—I hear not one foot stirring.——Prithee, Trim, who is in the kitchen? There is no one soul in the kitchen, answered Trim, making a low bow as he spoke, except Dr. Slop.——Confusion! cried my father, (getting up upon his legs a second time)——not one single thing has gone right this day! had I faith in astrology, brother, (which by the bye, my father had) I would have sworn some retrograde planet was hanging over this unfortunate house of mine,1 and turning every individual thing in it out of its place.——Why, I thought Dr. Slop had been above stairs with my wife, and so said you.—What can the fellow be puzzling about in the kitchen?——He is busy, an’ please your honour, replied Trim, in making a 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.
You must know, my uncle Toby mistook the bridge as widely as my father mistook the mortars;——but to understand how my uncle Toby could mistake the bridge,—I fear I must give you an exact account of the road which led to it;——or to drop my metaphor, (for there is nothing more dishonest in an historian, than the use of one,)——in order to conceive the probability of this error in my uncle Toby aright, I must give you some account of an adventure of Trim’s, though much against my will. I say much against my will, only because the story, in one sense, is certainly out of its place here; for by right it should come in, either amongst the anecdotes of my uncle Toby’s amours with widow Wadman, in which corporal Trim was no mean actor,—or else in the middle of his and my uncle Toby’s campaigns on the bowling green,——for it will do very well in either place;——but then if I reserve it for either of those parts of my story,—I ruin the story I’m upon,—and if I tell it here—I anticipate matters, and ruin it there.
—What would your worships have me to do in this case?
—Tell it, Mr. Shandy, by all means.——You are a fool, Tristram, if you do.
O ye POWERS! (for powers ye are, and great ones too)—which enable mortal man to tell a story worth the hearing,—that kindly shew him, where he is to begin it,—and where he is to end it,—what he is to put into it,—and what he is to leave out,—how much of it he is to cast into shade,—and whereabouts he is to throw his light!——Ye, who preside over this vast empire of biographical freebooters, and see how many scrapes and plunges your subjects hourly fall into;—will you do one thing?