Love
at first sight in the realm of books is a rare occurrence, and sustaining that love
across a lifetime without descending into grim toleration – “We stayed together
for the sake of the kids” – is rarer still. I’ve managed faithful longevity
with a handful of writers, including Shakespeare, Swift and Kipling. When it
comes to individual volumes first encountered when young, the list is shorter
and at the top is Tristram Shandy, a
novel introduced to me in my sophomore year by a professor of English. The consensus
in class was that Sterne’s masterpiece was too long, without plot and boring.
Few finished it. For me, infatuation was followed by devotion, and I wrote a lengthy
paper on the theme of writing as a strategy for staving off death. The narrator
is dying of tuberculosis, as was Sterne, but so long as he writes he can go on
living – the Scheherazade gambit.
Now
I’ve discovered another Sterne loyalist, one who read the novel and Sterne’s
other works not long after they were first published: Thomas Jefferson. Sterne brought
out the first two volumes of Tristram
Shandy in 1759, and the remaining seven periodically through 1767. Andrew
Burstein in The Inner Jefferson: Portrait
of a Grieving Optimist (University of Virginia Press, 1995) tells us
Jefferson copied a passage from Vol. IX, Chap. VIII of the novel into his
commonplace book in 1772 or 1773:
“Time
wastes too fast! every letter I trace tells me with what rapidity life follows
my pen. the days &c hours of it are flying over our heads like clouds of a
windy day never to return more! every thing presses on: and every time I kiss
thy hand to bid adieu, every absence which follows it, are preludes to that
eternal separation which we are shortly to make!”
Jefferson
married Martha Wayles on Jan. 1, 1772. Shortly before her death in 1782, Martha
transcribed the first portion of Sterne’s passage quoted above (through “presses
on: . . .”) on a small square of paper. Jefferson then completed the passage in
his own hand. Burstein reports the paper on which the lines were written was
found after Jefferson’s death forty-four year later in “the most secret drawer
of a private cabinet.” Inside the folded paper was a lock of Martha’s hair and another
from one of their daughters who had died in infancy. One of the two Jefferson daughters
who survived into adulthood, Martha, had written on the back of the paper: “A
lock of Dear Mama’s Hair inclosed [sic]
in a verse which She wrote.” Martha mistook Sterne’s prose for her mother’s
poetry. Having learned of Jefferson’s love of Sterne, I’m reminded of what he
wrote to his predecessor as president, John Adams, on June 10, 1815: “I cannot
live without books: but fewer will suffice where amusement, and not use, is the
only future object.” (ed. Lester J. Cappon, The
Adams-Jefferson Letters, University of North Carolina Press, 1987.)
[Andrew
Burstein and Catherine Mowbray provide more detail in “Jefferson and Sterne” (Early American Literature, 1994). They note that most of the passages
Jefferson copied into his commonplace book were drawn from classical authors.
Sterne was the only writer of English prose fiction he included.]
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