Part 15 (1/2)

No more than my horse, replied my uncle Toby.

Gracious heaven! cried my father, looking upwards, and clasping his two hands together-there is a worth in thy honest ignorance, brother Toby-'twere almost a pity to exchange it for a knowledge.-But I'll tell thee.-

To understand what time is aright, without which we never can comprehend infinity, insomuch as one is a portion of the other-we ought seriously to sit down and consider what idea it is we have of duration, so as to give a satisfactory account how we came by it.-What is that to any body? quoth my uncle Toby. (Vide Locke.) For if you will turn your eyes inwards upon your mind, continued my father, and observe attentively, you will perceive, brother, that whilst you and I are talking together, and thinking, and smoking our pipes, or whilst we receive successively ideas in our minds, we know that we do exist, and so we estimate the existence, or the continuation of the existence of ourselves, or any thing else, commensurate to the succession of any ideas in our minds, the duration of ourselves, or any such other thing co-existing with our thinking-and so according to that preconceived-You puzzle me to death, cried my uncle Toby.

-'Tis owing to this, replied my father, that in our computations of time, we are so used to minutes, hours, weeks, and months-and of clocks (I wish there was not a clock in the kingdom) to measure out their several portions to us, and to those who belong to us-that 'twill be well, if in time to come, the succession of our ideas be of any use or service to us at all.

Now, whether we observe it or no, continued my father, in every sound man's head, there is a regular succession of ideas of one sort or other, which follow each other in train just like-A train of artillery? said my uncle Toby-A train of a fiddle-stick!-quoth my father-which follow and succeed one another in our minds at certain distances, just like the images in the inside of a lanthorn turned round by the heat of a candle.-I declare, quoth my uncle Toby, mine are more like a smoke-jack,-Then, brother Toby, I have nothing more to say to you upon that subject, said my father.

Chapter 2.XII.

-What a conjuncture was here lost!-My father in one of his best explanatory moods-in eager pursuit of a metaphysical point into the very regions, where clouds and thick darkness would soon have encompa.s.sed it about;-my uncle Toby in one of the finest dispositions for it in the world;-his head like a smoke-jack;-the funnel unswept, and the ideas whirling round and round about in it, all obfuscated and darkened over with fuliginous matter!-By the tomb-stone of Lucian-if it is in being-if not, why then by his ashes! by the ashes of my dear Rabelais, and dearer Cervantes!-my father and my uncle Toby's discourse upon Time and Eternity-was a discourse devoutly to be wished for! and the petulancy of my father's humour, in putting a stop to it as he did, was a robbery of the Ontologic Treasury of such a jewel, as no coalition of great occasions and great men are ever likely to restore to it again.

Chapter 2.XIII.

Tho' my father persisted in not going on with the discourse-yet he could not get my uncle Toby's smoke-jack out of his head-piqued as he was at first with it;-there was something in the comparison at the bottom, which hit his fancy; for which purpose, resting his elbow upon the table, and reclining the right side of his head upon the palm of his hand-but looking first stedfastly in the fire-he began to commune with himself, and philosophize about it: but his spirits being wore out with the fatigues of investigating new tracts, and the constant exertion of his faculties upon that variety of subjects which had taken their turn in the discourse-the idea of the smoke jack soon turned all his ideas upside down-so that he fell asleep almost before he knew what he was about.

As for my uncle Toby, his smoke-jack had not made a dozen revolutions, before he fell asleep also.-Peace be with them both!-Dr. Slop is engaged with the midwife and my mother above stairs.-Trim is busy in turning an old pair of jack-boots into a couple of mortars, to be employed in the siege of Messina next summer-and is this instant boring the touch-holes with the point of a hot poker.-All my heroes are off my hands;-'tis the first time I have had a moment to spare-and I'll make use of it, and write my preface.

The Author's Preface

No, I'll not say a word about it-here it is;-in publis.h.i.+ng it-I have appealed to the world-and to the world I leave it;-it must speak for itself.

All I know of the matter is-when I sat down, my intent was to write a good book; and as far as the tenuity of my understanding would hold out-a wise, aye, and a discreet-taking care only, as I went along, to put into it all the wit and the judgment (be it more or less) which the great Author and Bestower of them had thought fit originally to give me-so that, as your wors.h.i.+ps see-'tis just as G.o.d pleases.

Now, Agalastes (speaking dispraisingly) sayeth, That there may be some wit in it, for aught he knows-but no judgment at all. And Triptolemus and Phutatorius agreeing thereto, ask, How is it possible there should? for that wit and judgment in this world never go together; inasmuch as they are two operations differing from each other as wide as east from west-So, says Locke-so are farting and hickuping, say I. But in answer to this, Didius the great church lawyer, in his code de fartendi et ill.u.s.trandi fallaciis, doth maintain and make fully appear, That an ill.u.s.tration is no argument-nor do I maintain the wiping of a looking-gla.s.s clean to be a syllogism;-but you all, may it please your wors.h.i.+ps, see the better for it-so that the main good these things do is only to clarify the understanding, previous to the application of the argument itself, in order to free it from any little motes, or specks of opacular matter, which, if left swimming therein, might hinder a conception and spoil all.

Now, my dear anti-Shandeans, and thrice able criticks, and fellow-labourers (for to you I write this Preface)-and to you, most subtle statesmen and discreet doctors (do-pull off your beards) renowned for gravity and wisdom;-Monopolus, my politician-Didius, my counsel; Kysarcius, my friend;-Phutatorius, my guide;-Gastripheres, the preserver of my life; Somnolentius, the balm and repose of it-not forgetting all others, as well sleeping as waking, ecclesiastical as civil, whom for brevity, but out of no resentment to you, I lump all together.-Believe me, right worthy,

My most zealous wish and fervent prayer in your behalf, and in my own too, in case the thing is not done already for us-is, that the great gifts and endowments both of wit and judgment, with every thing which usually goes along with them-such as memory, fancy, genius, eloquence, quick parts, and what not, may this precious moment, without stint or measure, let or hindrance, be poured down warm as each of us could bear it-sc.u.m and sediment and all (for I would not have a drop lost) into the several receptacles, cells, cellules, domiciles, dormitories, refectories, and spare places of our brains-in such sort, that they might continue to be injected and tunn'd into, according to the true intent and meaning of my wish, until every vessel of them, both great and small, be so replenish'd, saturated, and filled up therewith, that no more, would it save a man's life, could possibly be got either in or out.

Bless us!-what n.o.ble work we should make!-how should I tickle it off!-and what spirits should I find myself in, to be writing away for such readers!-and you-just heaven!-with what raptures would you sit and read-but oh!-'tis too much-I am sick-I faint away deliciously at the thoughts of it-'tis more than nature can bear!-lay hold of me-I am giddy-I am stone blind-I'm dying-I am gone.-Help! Help! Help!-But hold-I grow something better again, for I am beginning to foresee, when this is over, that as we shall all of us continue to be great wits-we should never agree amongst ourselves, one day to an end:-there would be so much satire and sarcasm-scoffing and flouting, with raillying and reparteeing of it-thrusting and parrying in one corner or another-there would be nothing but mischief among us-Chaste stars! what biting and scratching, and what a racket and a clatter we should make, what with breaking of heads, rapping of knuckles, and hitting of sore places-there would be no such thing as living for us.

But then again, as we should all of us be men of great judgment, we should make up matters as fast as ever they went wrong; and though we should abominate each other ten times worse than so many devils or devilesses, we should nevertheless, my dear creatures, be all courtesy and kindness, milk and honey-'twould be a second land of promise-a paradise upon earth, if there was such a thing to be had-so that upon the whole we should have done well enough.

All I fret and fume at, and what most distresses my invention at present, is how to bring the point itself to bear; for as your wors.h.i.+ps well know, that of these heavenly emanations of wit and judgment, which I have so bountifully wished both for your wors.h.i.+ps and myself-there is but a certain quantum stored up for us all, for the use and behoof of the whole race of mankind; and such small modic.u.ms of 'em are only sent forth into this wide world, circulating here and there in one bye corner or another-and in such narrow streams, and at such prodigious intervals from each other, that one would wonder how it holds out, or could be sufficient for the wants and emergencies of so many great estates, and populous empires.

Indeed there is one thing to be considered, that in Nova Zembla, North Lapland, and in all those cold and dreary tracks of the globe, which lie more directly under the arctick and antartick circles, where the whole province of a man's concernments lies for near nine months together within the narrow compa.s.s of his cave-where the spirits are compressed almost to nothing-and where the pa.s.sions of a man, with every thing which belongs to them, are as frigid as the zone itself-there the least quant.i.ty of judgment imaginable does the business-and of wit-there is a total and an absolute saving-for as not one spark is wanted-so not one spark is given. Angels and ministers of grace defend us! what a dismal thing would it have been to have governed a kingdom, to have fought a battle, or made a treaty, or run a match, or wrote a book, or got a child, or held a provincial chapter there, with so plentiful a lack of wit and judgment about us! For mercy's sake, let us think no more about it, but travel on as fast as we can southwards into Norway-crossing over Swedeland, if you please, through the small triangular province of Angermania to the lake of Bothmia; coasting along it through east and west Bothnia, down to Carelia, and so on, through all those states and provinces which border upon the far side of the Gulf of Finland, and the north-east of the Baltick, up to Petersbourg, and just stepping into Ingria;-then stretching over directly from thence through the north parts of the Russian empire-leaving Siberia a little upon the left hand, till we got into the very heart of Russian and Asiatick Tartary.

Now through this long tour which I have led you, you observe the good people are better off by far, than in the polar countries which we have just left:-for if you hold your hand over your eyes, and look very attentively, you may perceive some small glimmerings (as it were) of wit, with a comfortable provision of good plain houshold judgment, which, taking the quality and quant.i.ty of it together, they make a very good s.h.i.+ft with-and had they more of either the one or the other, it would destroy the proper balance betwixt them, and I am satisfied moreover they would want occasions to put them to use.

Now, Sir, if I conduct you home again into this warmer and more luxuriant island, where you perceive the spring-tide of our blood and humours runs high-where we have more ambition, and pride, and envy, and lechery, and other wh.o.r.eson pa.s.sions upon our hands to govern and subject to reason-the height of our wit, and the depth of our judgment, you see, are exactly proportioned to the length and breadth of our necessities-and accordingly we have them sent down amongst us in such a flowing kind of decent and creditable plenty, that no one thinks he has any cause to complain.

It must however be confessed on this head, that, as our air blows hot and cold-wet and dry, ten times in a day, we have them in no regular and settled way;-so that sometimes for near half a century together, there shall be very little wit or judgment either to be seen or heard of amongst us:-the small channels of them shall seem quite dried up-then all of a sudden the sluices shall break out, and take a fit of running again like fury-you would think they would never stop:-and then it is, that in writing, and fighting, and twenty other gallant things, we drive all the world before us.