WHEN Corporal _Trim_ had brought his two mortars to bear, he was
delighted with his handy-work above measure; and knowing what a
pleasure it would be to his master to see them, he was not able to
resist the desire he had of carrying them directly into his parlour.
Now next to the moral lesson I had in view in mentioning the affair of
_hinges_, I had a speculative consideration arising out of it, and it
is this.
Had the parlour door opened and turn’d upon its hinges, as a door
should do—
Or for example, as cleverly as our government has been turning upon its
hinges——(that is, in case things have all along gone well with your
worship,—otherwise I give up my simile)—in this case, I say, there had
been no danger either to master or man, in corporal _Trim_’s peeping
in: the moment he had beheld my father and my uncle _Toby_ fast
asleep—the respectfulness of his carriage was such, he would have
retired as silent as death, and left them both in their arm-chairs,
dreaming as happy as he had found them: but the thing was, morally
speaking, so very impracticable, that for the many years in which this
hinge was suffered to be out of order, and amongst the hourly
grievances my father submitted to upon its account—this was one; that
he never folded his arms to take his nap after dinner, but the thoughts
of being unavoidably awakened by the first person who should open the
door, was always uppermost in his imagination, and so incessantly
stepp’d in betwixt him and the first balmy presage of his repose, as to
rob him, as he often declared, of the whole sweets of it.
“_When things move upon bad hinges_, an’ please your lordships, _how
can it be otherwise?”_
Pray what’s the matter? Who is there? cried my father, waking, the
moment the door began to creak.——I wish the smith would give a peep at
that confounded hinge.——’Tis nothing, an please your honour, said
_Trim_, but two mortars I am bringing in.—They shan’t make a clatter
with them here, cried my father hastily.—If Dr. _Slop_ has any drugs to
pound, let him do it in the kitchen.—May it please your honour, cried
_Trim_, they are two mortar-pieces for a siege next summer, which I
have been making out of a pair of jack-boots, which _Obadiah_ told me
your honour had left off wearing.—By Heaven! cried my father, springing
out of his chair, as he swore——I have not one appointment belonging to
me, which I set so much store by as I do by these jack-boots——they were
our great grandfather’s brother _Toby_—they were _hereditary._ Then I
fear, quoth my uncle _Toby, Trim_ has cut off the entail.—I have only
cut off the tops, an’ please your honour, cried _Trim_——I hate
perpetuities as much as any man alive, cried my father——but these
jack-boots, continued he (smiling, though very angry at the same time)
have been in the family, brother, ever since the civil wars;——Sir
_Roger Shandy_ wore them at the battle of _Marston-Moor._—I declare I
would not have taken ten pounds for them.——I’ll pay you the money,
brother _Shandy_, quoth my uncle _Toby_, looking at the two mortars
with infinite pleasure, and putting his hand into his breeches pocket
as he viewed them——I’ll pay you the ten pounds this moment with all my
heart and soul.——
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 one 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 (though 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.