STERNE
BY
H.D. TRAILL
1882
PREFATORY NOTE.
The materials for a biography of Sterne are by no means abundant.
Of the earlier years of his life the only existing record is that
preserved in the brief autobiographical memoir which, a few months
before his death, he composed, in the usual quaint _staccato_ style of
his familiar correspondence, for the benefit of his daughter. Of his
childhood; of his school-days; of his life at Cambridge, and in his
Yorkshire vicarage; of his whole history, in fact, up to the age of
forty-six, we know nothing more than he has there jotted down. He
attained that age in the year 1759; and at this date begins that
series of his _Letters_, from which, for those who have the patience
to sort them out of the chronological confusion in which his daughter
and editress involved them, there is, no doubt, a good deal to be
learnt. These letters, however, which extend down to 1768, the year
of the writer's death, contain pretty nearly all the contemporary
material that we have to depend on. Freely as Sterne mixed in the best
literary society, there is singularly little to be gathered about him,
even in the way of chance allusion and anecdote, from the memoirs and
_ana_ of his time. Of the many friends who would have been competent
to write his biography while the facts were yet fresh, but one, John
Wilkes, ever entertained--if he did seriously entertain--the idea
of performing this pious work; and he, in spite of the entreaties of
Sterne's widow and daughter, then in straitened circumstances, left
unredeemed his promise to do so. The brief memoir by Sir Walter Scott,
which is prefixed to many popular editions of _Tristram Shandy_ and
the _Sentimental Journey,_ sets out the so-called autobiography in
full, but for the rest is mainly critical; Thackeray's well-known
lecture essay is almost wholly so; and nothing, worthy to be dignified
by the name of a _Life of Sterne_, seems ever to have been published,
until the appearance of Mr. Percy Fitzgerald's two stout volumes,
under this title, some eighteen years ago. Of this work it is hardly
too much to say that it contains (no doubt with the admixture of a
good deal of superfluous matter) nearly all the information as to the
facts of Sterne's life that is now ever likely to be recovered. The
evidence for certain of its statements of fact is not as thoroughly
sifted as it might have been; and with some of its criticism I, at
least, am unable to agree. But no one interested in the subject of
this memoir can be insensible of his obligations to Mr. Fitzgerald
for the fruitful diligence with which he has laboured in a too long
neglected field.
H.D.T.
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER I.
(1713-1724.)
BIRTH, PARENTAGE, AND EARLY YEARS.
CHAPTER II.
(1724-1733.)
SCHOOL AND UNIVERSITY.--HALIFAX AND CAMBRIDGE.
CHAPTER III.
(1738-1759.)
LIFE AT SUTTON.--MARRIAGE.--THE PARISH PRIEST.
CHAPTER IV.
(1759-1760.)
"TRISTRAM SHANDY," VOLS. I. AND II.
CHAPTER V.
(1760-1762.)
LONDON TRIUMPHS.--FIRST SET OF SERMONS.--"TRISTRAM SHANDY," VOLS. III.
AND IV.--COXWOLD.--"TRISTRAM SHANDY," VOLS. V. AND VI.--FIRST VISIT TO
THE CONTINENT.--PARIS.--TOULOUSE.
CHAPTER VI.
(1762-1765.)
LIFE IN THE SOUTH.--RETURN TO ENGLAND.--"TRISTRAM SHANDY," VOLS. VII.
AND VIII.--SECOND SET OF SERMONS
CHAPTER VII.
(1765-1768)
FRANCE AND ITALY.--MEETING WITH WIFE AND DAUGHTER.--RETURN TO
ENGLAND.--"TRISTRAM SHANDY," VOL. IX.--"THE SENTIMENTAL JOURNEY"
CHAPTER VIII.
(1768.)
LAST DAYS AND DEATH
CHAPTER IX.
STERNE AS A WRITER.--THE CHARGE OF PLAGIARISM.--DR. FERRIAR'S
"ILLUSTRATIONS"
CHAPTER X.
STYLE AND GENERAL CHARACTERISTICS.--HUMOUR AND SENTIMENT
CHAPTER XI.
CREATIVE AND DRAMATIC POWER.--PLACE IN ENGLISH LITERATURE
STERNE.
CHAPTER I.
BIRTH, PARENTAGE, AND EARLY YEARS.
(1713-1724.)
Towards the close of the month of November, 1713, one of the last of
the English regiments which had been detained in Flanders to supervise
the execution of the treaty of Utrecht arrived at Clonmel from
Dunkirk. The day after its arrival the regiment was disbanded; and
yet a few days later, on the 24th of the month, the wife of one of its
subalterns gave birth to a son. The child who thus early displayed the
perversity of his humour by so inopportune an appearance was Laurence
Sterne. "My birthday," he says, in the slipshod, loosely-strung
notes by which he has been somewhat grandiloquently said to have
"anticipated the labours" of the biographer--"my birthday was ominous
to my poor father, who was the day after our arrival, with many other
brave officers, broke and sent adrift into the wide world with a wife
and two children."
Roger Sterne, however, now late ensign of the 34th, or Chudleigh's
regiment of foot, was after all in less evil case than were many,
probably, of his comrades. He had kinsmen to whom he could look for,
at any rate, temporary assistance, and his mother was a wealthy widow.
The Sternes, originally of a Suffolk stock, had passed from that
county to Nottinghamshire, and thence into Yorkshire, and were at
this time a family of position and substance in the last-named county.
Roger's grandfather had been Archbishop of York, and a man of more
note, if only through the accident of the times upon which he
fell, than most of the incumbents of that see. He had played an
exceptionally energetic part even for a Cavalier prelate in the great
political struggle of the seventeenth century, and had suffered with
fortitude and dignity in the royal cause. He had, moreover, a further
claim to distinction in having been treated with common gratitude
at the Restoration by the son of the monarch whom he had served. As
Master of Jesus College, Cambridge, he had "been active in sending the
University plate to his Majesty," and for this offence he was seized
by Cromwell and carried in military custody to London, whence, after
undergoing imprisonment in various goals, and experiencing other
forms of hardship, he was at length permitted to retire to an obscure
retreat in the country, there to commune with himself until that
tyranny should be overpast. On the return of the exiled Stuarts
Dr. Sterne was made Bishop of Carlisle, and a few years later was
translated to the see of York. He lived to the age of eighty-six, and
so far justified Burnet's accusation against him of "minding chiefly
enriching himself," that he seems to have divided no fewer than four
landed estates among his children. One of these, Simon Sterne,
a younger son of the Archbishop, himself married an heiress, the
daughter of Sir Roger Jaques of Elvington; and Roger, the father of
Laurence Sterne, was the seventh and youngest of the issue of this
marriage. At the time when the double misfortune above recorded befell
him at the hands of Lucina and the War Office, his father had been
some years dead; but Simon Sterne's widow was still mistress of
the property which she had brought with her at her marriage, and to
Elvington, accordingly, "as soon," writes Sterne, "as I was able to be
carried," the compulsorily retired ensign betook himself with his wife
and his two children. He was not, however, compelled to remain long
dependent on his mother. The ways of the military authorities were as
inscrutable to the army of that day as they are in our day to our
own. Before a year had passed the regiment was ordered to be
re-established, and "our household decamped with bag and baggage for
Dublin." This was in the autumn of 1714, and from that time onward,
for some eleven years, the movements and fortunes of the Sterne
family, as detailed in the narrative of its most famous member, form a
history in which the ludicrous struggles strangely with the pathetic.
A husband, condemned to be the Ulysses-like plaything of adverse gods
at the War Office; an indefatigably prolific wife; a succession of
weak and ailing children; misfortune in the seasons of journeying;
misfortune in the moods of the weather by sea and land--under all this
combination of hostile chances and conditions was the struggle to
be carried on. The little household was perpetually "on the move"--a
little household which was always becoming and never remaining
bigger--continually increased by births, only to be again reduced by
deaths--until the contest between the deadly hardships of travel and
the fatal fecundity of Mrs. Sterne was brought by events to a natural
close. Almost might the unfortunate lady have exclaimed, _Quae regio
in terris nostri non plena laboris?_ She passes from Ireland to
England, and from England to Ireland, from inland garrison to sea-port
town and back again, incessantly bearing and incessantly burying
children--until even her son in his narrative begins to speak of
losing one infant at this place, and "leaving another behind" on that
journey, almost as if they were so many overlooked or misdirected
articles of luggage. The tragic side of the history, however,
overshadows the grotesque. When we think how hard a business was
travel even under the most favourable conditions in those days,
and how serious even in our own times, when travel is easy, are the
discomforts of the women and children of a regiment on the march--we
may well pity these unresting followers of the drum. As to Mrs. Sterne
herself, she seems to have been a woman of a pretty tough fibre, and
she came moreover of a campaigning stock. Her father was a "noted
suttler" of the name of Nuttle, and her first husband--for she was a
widow when Roger Sterne married her--had been a soldier also. She
had, therefore, served some years' apprenticeship to the military life
before these wanderings began; and she herself was destined to live to
a good old age. But somehow or other she failed to endow her offspring
with her own robust constitution and powers of endurance. "My father's
children were," as Laurence Sterne grimly puts it, "not made to last
long;" but one cannot help suspecting that it was the hardships of
those early years which carried them off in their infancy with such
painful regularity and despatch, and that it was to the same cause
that their surviving brother owed the beginnings of that fatal malady
by which his own life was cut short.
The diary of their travels--for the early part of Sterne's memoirs
amounts to scarcely more--is the more effective for its very brevity
and abruptness. Save for one interval of somewhat longer sojourn than
usual at Dublin, the reader has throughout it all the feeling of
the traveller who never finds time to unpack his portmanteau. On
the re-enrolment of the regiment in 1714, "our household," says the
narrative, "decamped from York with bag and baggage for Dublin. Within
a month my father left us, being ordered to Exeter; where, in a sad
winter, my mother and her two children followed him, travelling from
Liverpool, by land, to Plymouth." At Plymouth Mrs. Sterne gave birth
to a son, christened Joram; and, "in twelve months time we were all
sent back to Dublin. My mother," with her three children, "took ship
at Bristol for Ireland, and had a narrow escape from being cast away
by a leak springing up in the vessel. At length, after many perils
and struggles, we got to Dublin." Here intervenes the short
breathing-space, of which mention has been made--an interval
employed by Roger Sterne in "spending a great deal of money" on a
"large house," which he hired and furnished; and then "in the year one
thousand seven hundred and nineteen, all unhinged again." The regiment
had been ordered off to the Isle of Wight, thence to embark for Spain,
on "the Vigo Expedition," and "we," who accompanied it, "were driven
into Milford Haven, but afterwards landed at Bristol, and thence by
land to Plymouth again, and to the Isle of Wight;" losing on this
expedition "poor Joram, a pretty boy, who died of the smallpox." In
the Isle of Wight, Mrs. Sterne and her family remained till the Vigo
Expedition returned home; and during her stay there "poor Joram's loss
was supplied by the birth of a girl, Anne," a "pretty blossom," but
destined to fall "at the age of three years." On the return of the
regiment to Wicklow, Roger Sterne again sent to collect his family
around him. "We embarked for Dublin, and had all been cast away by a
most violent storm; but, through the intercession of my mother, the
captain was prevailed upon to turn back into Wales, where we stayed
a month, and at length got into Dublin, and travelled by land to
Wicklow, where my father had, for some weeks, given us over for lost."
Here a year passed, and another child, Devijeher--so called after the
colonel of the regiment--was born. "From thence we decamped to stay
half a year with Mr. Fetherston, a clergyman, about seven miles from
Wicklow, who, being a relative of my mother's, invited us to his
parsonage at Animo.[1]" From thence, again, "we followed the regiment
to Dublin," where again "we lay in the barracks a year." In 1722 the
regiment was ordered to Carrickfergus. "We all decamped, but got no
further than Drogheda; thence ordered to Mullingar, forty miles west,
where, by Providence, we stumbled upon a kind relation, a collateral
descendant from Archbishop Sterne, who took us all to his castle, and
kindly entertained us for a year." Thence, by "a most rueful journey,"
to Carrickfergus, where "we arrived in six or seven days." Here, at
the age of three, little Devijeher obtained a happy release from his
name; and "another child, Susan, was sent to fill his place, who also
left us behind in this weary journey." In the "autumn of this year, or
the spring of the next"--Sterne's memory failing in exactitude at the
very point where we should have expected it to be most precise--"my
father obtained permission of his colonel to fix me at school;" and
henceforth the boy's share in the family wanderings was at an end. But
his father had yet to be ordered from Carrickfergus to Londonderry,
where at last a permanent child, Catherine, was born; and thence to
Gibraltar, to take part in the Defence of that famous Rock, where the
much-enduring campaigner was run through the body in a duel, "about
a goose" (a thoroughly Shandian catastrophe); and thence to Jamaica,
where, "with a constitution impaired" by the sword-thrust earned in
his anserine quarrel, he was defeated in a more deadly duel with the
"country fever," and died. "His malady," writes his son, with a touch
of feeling struggling through his dislocated grammar, "took away his
senses first, and made a child of him; and then in a month or two
walking about continually without complaining, till the moment he sat
down in an arm-chair and breathed his last."
[Footnote 1: "It was in this parish," says Sterne, "that I had that
wonderful escape in falling through a mill race while the mill was
going, and being taken up unhurt; the story is incredible, but known
to all that part of Ireland, where hundreds of the common people
flocked to seeme." More incredible still does it seem that Thoresby
should relate the occurrence of an accident of precisely the same kind
to Sterne's great-grandfather, the Archbishop. "Playing near a mill,
he fell within a claw; there was but one board or bucket wanting in
the whole wheel, but a gracious Providence so ordered it that the void
place came down at that moment, else he had been crushed to death; but
was reserved to be a grand benefactor afterwards." (Thoresby, ii. 15.)
But what will probably strike the reader as more extraordinary even
than this coincidence is that Sterne should have been either unaware
of it, or should have omitted mention of it in the above passage.]
There is, as has been observed, a certain mixture of the comic and the
pathetic in the life-history of this obscure father of a famous
son. His life was clearly not a fortunate one, so far as external
circumstances go; but its misfortunes had no sort of consoling dignity
about them. Roger Sterne's lot in the world was not so much an unhappy
as an uncomfortable one; and discomfort earns little sympathy, and
absolutely no admiration, for its sufferers. He somehow reminds us
of one of those Irish heroes--good-natured, peppery, debt-loaded,
light-hearted, shiftless--whose fortunes we follow with mirthful and
half-contemptuous sympathy in the pages of Thackeray. He was obviously
a typical specimen of that class of men who are destitute alike of the
virtues and failings of the "respectable" and successful; whom many
people love and no one respects; whom everybody pities in their
struggles and difficulties, but whom few pity without a smile.
It is evident, however, that he succeeded in winning the affection of
one who had not too much affection of the deeper kind to spare for any
one. The figure of Roger Sterne alone stands out with any clearness by
the side of the ceaselessly flitting mother and phantasmal children of
Laurence Sterne's Memoir; and it is touched in with strokes so vivid
and characteristic that critics have been tempted to find in it
the original of the most famous portrait in the Shandy gallery. "My
father," says Sterne, "was a little, smart man, active to the last
degree in all exercises, most patient of fatigue and disappointments,
of which it pleased God to give him full measure. He was, in his
temper, somewhat rapid and hasty, but of a kindly, sweet disposition,
void of all design, and so innocent in his own intentions, that he
suspected no one; so that you might have cheated him ten times a
day, if nine had not been sufficient for your purpose." This is a
captivating little picture; and it no doubt presents traits which may
have impressed themselves early and deeply on the imagination which
was afterwards to give birth to "My Uncle Toby." The simplicity of
nature and the "kindly, sweet disposition" are common to both the
ensign of real life and to the immortal Captain Shandy of fiction; but
the criticism which professes to find traces of Roger Sterne's "rapid
and hasty temper" in my Uncle Toby is compelled to strain itself
considerably. And, on the whole, there seems no reason to believe that
Sterne borrowed more from the character of his father than any
writer must necessarily, and perhaps unconsciously, borrow from his
observation of the moral and mental qualities of those with whom he
has come into most frequent contact.
That Laurence Sterne passed the first eleven years of his life with
such an exemplar of these simple virtues of kindliness, guilelessness,
and courage ever before him, is perhaps the best that can be said
for the lot in which his early days were cast. In almost all other
respects there could hardly have been--for a quick-witted, precocious,
imitative boy--a worse bringing-up. No one, I should imagine, ever
more needed discipline in his youth than Sterne; and the camp is a
place of discipline for the soldier only. To all others whom necessity
attaches to it, and to the young especially, it is rather a school of
license and irregularity. It is fair to remember these disadvantages
of Sterne's early training, in judging of the many defects as a man,
and laxities as a writer, which marked his later life; though, on the
other hand, there is no denying the reality and value of some of
the countervailing advantages which came to him from his boyish
surroundings. The conception of my Uncle Toby need not have been taken
whole from Roger Sterne, or from any one actual captain of a marching
regiment; but the constant sight of, and converse with, many captains
and many corporals may undoubtedly have contributed much to the vigour
and vitality of Toby Shandy and Corporal Trim. So far as the externals
of portraiture were concerned, there can be no doubt that his art
benefited much from his early military life. His soldiers have the
true stamp of the soldier about them in air and language; and when
his captain and corporal fight their Flemish battles over again we are
thoroughly conscious that we are listening, under the dramatic form,
to one who must himself have heard many a chapter of the same splendid
story from the lips of the very men who had helped to break the pride
of the Grand Monarque under Marlborough and Eugene.