Mr.
Yorick. Nothing can be more perfect in its way than the picture of the
"lively, witty, sensitive, and heedless parson," in chapter x. of the
first volume of _Tristram Shandy_. We seem to see the thin, melancholy
figure on the rawboned horse--the apparition which could "never
present itself in the village but it caught the attention of old and
young," so that "labour stood still as he passed, the bucket hung
suspended in the middle of the well, the spinning-wheel forgot its
round; even chuck-farthing and shuffle-cap themselves stood gaping
till he was out of sight." Throughout this chapter Sterne, though
describing himself, is projecting his personality to a distance, as it
were, and contemplating it dramatically; and the result is excellent.
When in the next chapter he becomes "lyrical," so to speak; when the
reflection upon his (largely imaginary) wrongs impels him to look
inward, the invariable consequence follows; and though Yorick's much
bepraised death-scene, with Eugenius at his bed-side, is redeemed
from entire failure by an admixture of the humorous with its attempted
pathos, we ask ourselves with some wonder what the unhappiness--or the
death itself, for that matter--is "all about.
Pages:
229
230
231
232
233
234
235
236
237
238
239
240
241
242
243
244
245
246
247
248
249
250
251
252
253