y few, if any, of the more celebrated
English men of letters is this observation so forcibly illustrated as
it is in the case of Sterne: the obscure period of his life so greatly
exceeded in duration the brief season of his fame, and its obscurity
was so exceptionally profound. He was forty-seven years of age when,
at a bound, he achieved celebrity; he was not five-and-fifty when he
died. And though it might be too much to say that the artist sprang,
like the reputation, full-grown into being, it is nevertheless true
that there are no marks of positive immaturity to be detected even in
the earliest public displays of his art. His work grows, indeed, most
marvellously in vividness and symmetry as he proceeds, but there
are no visible signs of growth in the workman's skill. Even when the
highest point of finish is attained we cannot say that the hand is any
more cunning than it was from the first. As well might we say that the
last light touches of the sculptor's chisel upon the perfected statue
are more skilful than its first vigorous strokes upon the shapeless
block.
It is certain, however, that Sterne must have been storing up his
material of observation, secreting his reflections on life and
character, and consciously or unconsciously maturing his powers of
expression, during the whole of those silent twenty years which have
now to be passed under brief review. With one exception, to be noted
presently, the only known writings of his which belong to this
period are sermons, and these--a mere "scratch" collection of pulpit
discourses, which, as soon as he had gained the public ear, he
hastened in characteristic fashion to rummage from his desk and carry
to the book-market--throw no light upon the problem before us. There
are sermons of Sterne which alike in manner and matter disclose the
author of _Tristram Shandy_; but they are not among those which he
preached or wrote before that work was given to the world. They
are not its ancestors but its descendants. They belong to the
post-Shandian period, and are in obvious imitation of the Shandian
style; while in none of the earlier ones--not even in that famous
homily on a Good Conscience, which did not succeed till Corporal Trim
preached it before the brothers Shandy and Dr. Slop--can we trace
either the trick of style or the turn of thought that give piquancy to
the novel. Yet the peculiar qualities of mind, and the special faculty
of workmanship of which this turn of
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