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 publishing 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 worships see--'tis just as God 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 illustrandi fallaciis, doth maintain and make fully appear, That an illustration is no argument--nor do I maintain the wiping of a looking-glass clean to be a syllogism;--but you all, may it please your worships, 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--scum 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 noble 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.
