FEW eminent men have left to his biographer a task more difficult than Sterne. His life, character and writ ings appear to be compounded of qualities extremely opposite, yet inextricably blended; so that it is as hard to view them together, as to separate them with sufficient precision and distinctness; nor can we with ease reduce a combination so eccentric and peculiar to the ordinary scale of human judgments. The opposite prejudices of dissentient classes of criticism, surround us with jealous eye-the freethinker in religion-the moral casuist -the single-minded Christian-demand from us in turn a severity or an indulgence which require a more dexterous and cautious hand than ours to reconcile. There is, nevertheless, a rule, more safe, perhaps, than popular, which must serve us instead of much of this intricate wisdom-to speak the truth in simplicity, without regard to the prepossessions of opinion. Our task is in some degree facilitated, both by the faithful reflections of himself, which Sterne has, perhaps unconsciously, left us in his writings, and by the brief autobiographic sketch which he has written a few days before his death, at the request of his daughter. This, so far as facts are concerned, must, however, be our only guide to a very late period of the writer's life. Sterne, we have no doubt, anticipated the immediate expansion of this meagre summary, which is little more than a table of contents, into a full and detailed history-while there were yet living, those who could have filled up the outline from their own knowledge or inquiry-and while there survived enough of public interest in his works and name to render such an undertaking not imprudent. As it is, we can do little more than regret the scantiness of our materials to execute a faithful sketch of this interesting and singular character. Yet it must be ad Nothing so decidedly tends to throw an obscurity upon the memory of illustrious persons, as the narrow and selfish jealousy of children and surviving relations. If there should chance to exist any evidence of human infirmity-if genius has been accompanied by any of those aberrations and eccentricities, of which the history of literature is full-it is absurdly thought a sufficient reason for devoting to oblivion the name, which the anxious labour of a life was devoted to perpetuate in the memory of the living. To be remarked for singularities, or even for those moral defects which belong to human nature, may often hurt the living-in the memory of the dead they are as if they had not been. They are gone to their dread account. To the world they but survive in their intellectual monuments. With their follies we are only so far concerned as the features of a moral portraiture, which all men desire to leave-but which, if not a likeness, is nothing. They who would suppress the weaknesses and characteristic defects, are unconsciously annihilating all that genius seeks to perpetuate. The name becomes as the unrecording hieroglyphic -the volume a nameless tombstone. VOL. VIII. mitted, that if the more direct and ordinary materials are insufficient, the evidences which arise from circumstances, style of composition, and the characteristic traits of a strongly featured mind, offer a more than usual guidance to biographical conjecture. To this may be added, that this deficiency is also to a certain extent compensated by the distinctness and authenticity of our information, in all that regards the main facts of his life-our outline is perfect-the colouring and expression must be sought from the reflected lights and shadows of the Shandy family. In this memoir of himself, which may be found in the beginning of every edition of his writings, Sterne has minutely detailed the particulars of his genealogy. From this, it will be here enough to mention, that his father was grandson to Dr. Richard Sterne, Archbishop of York, who died in 1683. His third son, Simon Sterne of Elvington, left six children, of whom Sterne's father, Roger, was the second; and Dr. Jaques Sterne, Prebendary of York, &c. afterwards mentioned in this memoir, the third. "Roger Sterne," says the narrative, "grandson to Archbishop Sterne, lieutenant in Handaside's regiment, was married to Agnes Hebert, widow of a captain of good family." Of this marriage, Lawrence was born in Clonmel, Nov. 24, 1713. Immediately after this his father's regiment was disbanded, on which the family removed to Elving ton, near York, and remained until the regiment was re-established, about ten months after, when they returned to Ireland. From this we find, as might be expected, from the recollections of so early an age, a brief and indistinct summary of the fatiguing and oppressive wanderings, distresses and calamities of some years of laborious and hasty change from place to place as the regiment shifted its quarters. It is easier to imagine than describe the confused, though often vivid and impressive images of military life, as they must have been remembered from an age when all is new to the sense, and understood by the fancy rather than the reason. The storm at sea, and the rapid and various march, can scarcely have been the every-day incidents of his childhood, without having left im pressions deeply coloured and interesting in detail. During the first three years of his life, he was in rapid succession transferred, with the movements of his father's regiment, from town to town-York, Dublin, Plymouth, and Dublin again. In 1719, when in his sixth year, the regiment was embarked in the Vigo expedition; the vessel in which he was, was driven by "stress of wind" into Milfordhaven. Having landed at Bristol, they removed to Plymouth, and from that to the Isle of Wight. Here his family remained until the return of the regiment, when they again embarked for Dublin. A violent storm threw them on the Welsh coast, and a month passed before they were enabled to reach Dublin. From this, Sterne's family, as he characteristically tells us, "travelled by land" into the county of Wicklow, where they passed some time with the Rev. Mr. Featherstone, at Animoe. "In this place," his memoir says, "I had that wonderful escape in falling through a millrace while the mill was going, and of being taken up unhurt. The story is incredible, but known for truth in all that part of Ireland, where hundreds of the common people flocked to see me." Sir W. Scott, who visited that vicinity in 1825, tells us that "the mill where Sterne encountered this remarkable risk, has been only lately destroyed, and his escape still lives in village tradition." In 1722, the regiment was ordered to Carrickfergus, but the Sternes proceeded no further than Mullingar, where they happily met a relation, a collateral descendant from Archbishop Sterne, who received them with all the warm hospitality of the time into his castle-and having detained them for a year, sent them, "loaded with kindnesses, &c." to Carrickfergus. In the course of these migrations, our author briefly records the births and deaths of a sister and two brothers. In the year 1722 or 1723, he is doubtful which, his father obtained leave of absence, in order to place him at school in Halifax, where he remained" until by God's care of me, my cousin, Sterne of Elvington, became a father to me, and sent me to the University." The next occurrence of any importance in this brief summary, is the embarkation of the regiment in which his father served, to assist in the siege of Gibraltar. Here an unhappy incident took place, which eventually deprived Sterne of a father. This, we shall give in his own words, with the lighter anecdote which follows it too closely to be disjoined. "From this station the regiment was sent to defend Gibraltar, at the siege, where my father was run through the body by Captain Phillips, in a duel (the quarrel began about a goose!)--with much difficulty he survived, though with an impaired constitution, which was not able to withstand the hardships it was put to; for he was sent to Jamaica, where he soon fell by the country fever, which 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 the arm-chair, and breathed his last, which was at Port Antonio, on the north of the island. My father 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 in a day, if nine had not been sufficient for your purpose. My poor father died in March, 1731. I remained at Halifax till about the latter end of that year, and cannot omit mentioning this anecdote of myself and schoolmaster:-He had the ceiling of the school-room new whitewashed; the ladder remained there. I, one unlucky day, mounted it, and wrote with a brush, in large capital letters, LAU. STERNE, for which the usher severely whipped me. My master was very much hurt at this, and said, before me, that never should that name be effaced, for I was a boy of genius, and he was sure I should come to preferment. This expression made me forget the stripes I had received." this influence he obtained for his nephew the living of Sutton. The history of his marriage may best be told by himself— "At York I became acquainted with your mother, and courted her for two years she owned she liked me, but thought herself not rich enough, or me too poor, to be joined together. She went to her sister's in S-; and I wrote to her often. I believe then she was partly determined to have me, but would not say so. At her return she fell into a consumption; and one evening that I was sitting by her, with an almost broken heart to see her so ill, she said, My dear Laurey, I never can be yours, for I verily believe I have not long to live! but I have left you every shilling of my fortune. Upon that she showed me her will. This generosity overpowered me. It pleased God that she recovered, and I married her in the year 1741." His uncle also at this time obtained for him a prebendary of York; but soon after quarrelled with him. Dr. Sterne was deeply interested in the politics of the day; he was engaged much in the concerns of the Whig party, and a zealous supporter of the Hanoverian succession. There is some reason to presume that his nephew, attached to him by gratitude, not less than blood, was to some extent drawn into the sphere of his uncle's zealous political activity; though we have his own assurance that the coolness which afterwards arose between them, was caused by his refusal to assist his uncle in this warfare. The probability is, that the factious feelings, which but too often find no level too low for their fierce rancour, soon reached a point to which the proud and sensitive spirit of Sterne could not stoop. His own assertion is, that he detested the dirty work of newspaper paragraphs ; yet there is, in the sketch of Dr. Slop, some evidence of his having carried to a length not quite justifiable, his participation in the angry feelings of Dr. Sterne. This coarse and malignant, though clever caricature, of the fidelity of which we cannot pretend to judge, is familiar to most of our readers. It was written with the vindictive purpose of retorting the resentment of Dr. Burton, whom his uncle had arrested in 1745, on a charge of high treason. By He was 15 years of age when sent to the University of Cambridge; he was entered in Jesus' College, under the tuition of Mr. Cannon. Having graduated in 1736, he came to York, where his uncle resided. This uncle was a prebendary of Durham, and also of York, and possessed many ecclesiastical preferments, and had, of course, no small influence in the diocese. Of this period of his life-the hap piest, though least affected by that whirl of constant excitement which characterizes his after career-there is little memorial; yet this little has the interest of being pregnant with the writer's character. His account of himself, from the year 1741 to 1760 is briefly summed in his own words By my wife's means I got the living of Stillington; a friend of her's in the south had promised her, that, if she married a clergyman in Yorkshire, when the living became vacant, he would make her a compliment of it." "I remained near twenty years at Sut ton, doing duty at both places. I had then very good health. Books, painting, fiddling, and shooting, were my amusements. As to the squire of the parish, I cannot say we were on a very friendly footing; but at Stillington, the family of the C- 's showed us every kindness: 'twas most truly agreeable to be within a mile and a half of an amiable family, who were ever cordial friends." A specimen of Mr. Sterne's abilities in the art of designing, may be seen in Mr. Wodhul's poems, 8vo. 1772. Of such specimens, the result of unprofessional industry, few have probably deserved to survive the brief wonder of the partial home circle. Yet there cannot but be felt a natural curiosity to see how genius which is identified with one species of result, may have succeeded in another; neither can such a specimen be without some interest of a more distinct and rational kind, to those whose study it is to trace in all its results, the identity of human character. Painting-of which, as in the kindred science of the poet, the main principle is to awaken fancy by the illusion of effects and associations, must have possessed a strong enchantment for a mind so sensibly alive to impressions, and so rich in graphic conceptions as Sterne's. But for the present, it is more our purpose to look on the favorite pursuits, for the strong light in which they shew the moral as well as the intellectual temper, which must have concurred to produce the singular and eccentric course of life and study indicated by his writings. The pursuits which he represents as having been his chief amusements, form a combination not very infrequent, but when carried beyond a very moderate to cultivation, ever, or at least mostly; indicative of fine nerve, delicate taste, quick sensibility, and a light and vari able temper. Such a combination it is not hard to trace in the various, desultory, and vivacious page of Sterne. In 1747, he took a house in York for his wife and daughter, and went to London to publish the two first volumes of Tristram Shandy. Their success was brilliant and instantaneous; and to this the faults of his style contributed little less than its perfections. Numbers will ever be found to applaud those who can address the passions without offending against decorum; and when the reputation for wit and humour is obtained many will join in the laugh, without perceiving the point, or discover wit where the sense is only conceited or obscured. To this one of the peculiar artifices of Sterne's writing affords the amplest scope, as it consists very much in conveying indirectly, and by remote allusion and insinuation, that which may not be directly said without offence. Where so much is thus left to the reader's quickness, invention will be on the alert to find meanings or improve them. That which might revolt the taste is veiled, and comes with softened effect through the attractive mist of conjecture. It is applauded in the surprise of unexpected wit, and thus finds its way to the passions before it can be apprehended by the more tardy vigilance of the moral sense. The outery was also loud-but the world was, as usual, on the side of the laugh. Not to laugh was to be exposed to the sneer of wit, and the charge of dulness-to censure, was branded as hypocrisy. was defended on the just merits of his beautiful sketches of human nature; and with less truth, by a denial of the weighty reproach. A distinction more nice than just was drawn between the mere violation of decorum, and the direct corruption of the passions. A mistake so palpable, seems hardly to demand exposure—were it not that it is one of that peculiar class of mistakes which our nature is too willing to commit. Human passions, and especially those of the coarser kind, are by the conventions of society constrained to dwell in mystery, and to be tampered with under the mask and hood of decorous concealment. Ever on the alert, Sterne the remotest hint is as a clue to the inner shrine in the foul labyrinth. It is also their nature to be excited by partial concealment, and accidental disclosure-while broad indecency, inseparably associated with disgusting images, has in some measure the opposite effect. Neither is there more justness in the plea of the writer's innocence of intention-" Now, I take heaven to witness, after all this badinage, that my heart is innocent-the truth is, that my pen governs me-not me my pen." It is to be feared, that such simplicity is too inconsistent, either with the shrewd, sly, knowing wit of Sterne, or his evident knowledge of the moral and animal springs of human nature; and that in this respect the epithet of hypocrite-which he was too free to misapply as a defensive weapon-can too easily be retorted. These observations may serve to introduce an anecdote mentioned by Scott. "Soon after Tristram had appeared, Sterne asked a Yorkshire lady of fortune and condition, whether she had read his book? "I have not, Mr. Sterne,' was the answer; and to be plain with you, I am informed it is not proper for female perusal.' "My dear good lady,' replied the author, do not be gulled by such stories; the book is like your young heir there,' (pointing to a child of three years old, who was rolling on the carpet in his white tunics,) he shows at times a good deal that is usually concealed, but it is all in perfect innocence! This witty excuse may be so far admitted; for it cannot be said that the licentious humour of Tristram Shandy is of the kind which applies itself to the passions, or is calculated to corrupt society." Scott's comment, which we have thought it just to add, is characteristic of his proverbial benevolence, and his kindly tolerance for infirmities from which he was most exempt. In thus frankly censuring what cannot, with a due regard to truth, be defended, we cannot help feeling ourselves called upon to deprecate the charge of an unseasonable rigor. There is a feeling which loves to guard and consecrate the laurel upon the monument of genius. No wanton aggression should be allowed to scatter aspersion against the memory of those who, in their generation, have contributed to erect the volumed pile of their country's literature. But the limit to this is as sacred as the fame of departed genius-it is the line of truth and justice. Before the lying honors are strewn where they can be of no avail, and the incense of flattery wasted on the "dull, cold ear of death,” there is a sad and stern duty to be discharged to the living. If there can be any reasonable objection, in such cases, to the exercise of that critical candour which seldom spares those whom it can most wound, it is where the parent, the brother, or the widow survive, to be offended through the feelings most entitled to respect. In the present instance there is no such consideration to restrain us from the bounden duty of affirming, that this gifted but eccentric work cannot be recommended to the young or the uncorrupted: and that so far as we might admit the moral influence which one,† at least, of Sterne's biographers has atUncle Toby-it is not yet enough tributed to the virtuous simplicity of to redeem this work from the censure of having been written by a Christian teacher. It is indeed the error of a class to attribute to moral maxims, and the cultivation of sentimental virtue, an influence to which it has no pretension. The error is accepted, because it has the merit of offering_an easy substitute for Christian faith. But human passions are not to be silenced De mortuis nil nisi bonum. I declare I have considered the wisdom and foun. dation of it over and over again, as dispassionately and charitably as a good Christian can; and, after all, I can find nothing in it, or make more of it, than a nonsensical lullaby of some nurse, put into Latin by some pedant, to be chanted by some hypocrite to the end of the world, for the consolation of departing lechers......The ruling passion, and les egaremens du cœur, are the very things which distinguish and mark a man's character, in which I would as soon leave out a man's head as his hobby-horse. Sterne's Letters. † See Roscoe's Memoir. |