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.
When Corporal Trim had finished making his two mortars, he was delighted with his handy-work; and knowing how pleased his master would be to see them, he could not resist carrying them directly into the parlour.
Now besides the moral lesson I gave in the affair of hinges, I had another reason for mentioning it.
Had the parlour door opened and turned upon its hinges, as a door should do-
For example, as cleverly as our government has been turning upon its hinges - in this case, there would have been no danger in Corporal Trim's peeping in: the moment he had beheld my father and my uncle Toby fast asleep, he would have respectfully retired in silence and left them both in their armchairs, dreaming happily.
However, during the many years in which this hinge was out of order, amongst the hourly grievances my father held about it, was this one; that he never folded his arms to take his nap after dinner, without thinking that he would be unavoidably awakened by the first person who should open the door. This thought so often stepped in betwixt him and his balmy repose, as to rob him, as he declared, of the enjoyment of it.
'Pray what's the matter? Who is there?' cried my father, waking the moment the door began to creak. 'I wish the smith would look at that confounded hinge.'
''Tis nothing, your honour,' said Trim, 'but two mortars I am bringing in.'
'Don't make a clatter with them here,' cried my father. 'If Dr. Slop has 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 stopped wearing.'
'By Heaven!' cried my father, springing out of his chair. 'I have nothing which I value so much as those jack-boots - they were our great grandfather's, they are an inheritance.'
'Then I fear,' quoth my uncle Toby, 'that Trim has cut off the entail.'
'I have only cut off the tops, your honour,' cried Trim.
'These jack-boots,' cried my father, (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,' quoth my uncle Toby, looking at the two mortars with infinite pleasure, and putting his hand into his breeches pocket.
'Brother Toby,' replied my father, 'you care not what money you throw away, provided 'tis 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, '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 brass artillery you ordered last week, with twenty other preparations for the siege of Messina. Believe me, dear brother,' continued my father, taking him kindly by the hand, 'these military operations carry you into greater expenses than you were first aware of; and my dear Toby, they will in the end make a beggar of you.'
'What does it matter, brother,' replied my uncle Toby, 'so long as we know 'tis for the good of the nation?'
My father could not help smiling - his anger 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 both.
'Generous souls! God prosper you, and your mortar-pieces!' quoth he to himself.
Book 3 - Chapter 22