ORIGINAL DRAFT

The Sense is This:

Problematized Language within Laurence Sternes A Sentimental Journey

A Sentimental Journey by Laurence Sterne is not a static text. The novel can be read as

somewhat postmodern, and thus multiple meanings can be teased out of the unconventional

narrative structure Sterne employs depending on the perspective each reader chooses. It is

therefore fitting to discuss language within the text, or rather languages inability to actualize

concrete meaning between two or more discrete parties; each individuals understanding of an

individual word may differ slightly, and these individually small differences can compound to

create an environment in which two people can hardly understand each other even when

speaking the same language. The text, regardless of the narrative which the reader creates out of

the episodes, stands as an exemplification of the problematic structure of language as such: the

difficulty for language to hold a firm meaning; the ability for a linguistic code to actualize and

communicate the often listless thoughts from one individual to another. I will draw from Sterne,

secondary analysis of Sterne, and the primary work of Derrida, in an attempt to use an imperfect

code to communicate the imperfections of the same code as seen by a somewhat eccentric writer

of the 1700s. There seem to be no inherent difficulties with such a task; let us begin.

A Sentimental Journey, as described by Keryl Kavanagh, is an internal journey through

an external landscape in which we find an expression of the incompatibility of travel and

communication (136). We find in the text many examples that show that to communicate our

own sensations outside of our own sphere is often a great difficulty. In a discussion of language,
it is fitting to begin with the episode titledThe Translation where Yorick explores the

possibilities and limitations of communicating with others while at the opera (Kavanagh 137).

The translation gestured toward in the title of the passage, rather than being a movement of

understanding between two diverse linguistic groups, is primarily referring to the translation of

body language and socially-normative conventions into an internalized language. Yorick informs

us first of the physical movements of the occupants of the opera box, and then offers:

Translate this into any civilized language in the world the sense is this:

Heres a poor stranger come in to the box he seems as if he knew no body;

and is never likely, was he to be seven years in Paris, if every man he comes near

keeps his spectacles upon his noes tis shutting the door of conversation

absolutely in his face and using him worse than a German.

The French officer might as well have said it all aloud;

(47)

When addressing this passage, it is important to remember the latent sarcasm on the part

of our collective narrator Yorick which stretches throughout the text. We see the shadow of this

sarcasm in the assertion that the officer might as well have said it aloud; it may be fair to

assume that the French officer initially removed his spectacles to open the door of

conversation, but it is equally likely that the French officer had finished reading the small

pamphlet (47); it is even possible that elements of both hypotheses are correct. Recognizing

movement is, in most situations, a quite black and white affair, but the translation of these

movements into language is a much more grey activity. Much as A Sentimental Journey offers
readers the opportunity to access the narrative from a variety of positions, Sterne is most likely

speaking through Yorick in this instance with his tongue pressed firmly into his cheek, knowing

that neither translation nor language broadly are exact sciences.

Kavanagh is not alone in her conclusion that Sterne is quite skeptical of the intrinsic

value of language as such. Language for Sterne is not inherently valuable as we will never know

the real essences of things by rigid classification, nor will words ever provide a fixed

representation of the order of things (Lamb, 295). There is also the belief, again drawing from

Jonathan Lamb, that spoken language is neither the only, nor necessarily the best, technique for

communicating (295). This lack of faith in the ability of language to communicate information

without the possibility for significant misunderstanding caused Sterne to move away from the

notion of a static text with a stable meaning (Kavanagh, 138).

An instability of meaning is heightened when interacting across multiple linguistic

groups. Within the chapter The Remise we find a juxtaposition of a words meaning in different

linguistic groups as well as a multitude of meanings within a single linguistic unit. Kavanagh

draws our attention to the five different meanings of the word remise which are all actualized

within the chapter: a building which houses coaches, and a coach itself; delivery; remission, or

forgiveness; discount; and postponement (138). Perhaps the most interesting is the final

definition which gestures to the Derridian concept of the idea of deferral. Situated within a

somewhat deconstructionist framework, she writes:

The last meaning of remise suggests endlessly delaying meaning and narrative

satisfaction, allowing the reader space to interpret incidents along the way,

because there is no textual closure. The meaning of remission or forgiveness is

 significant to the readers interaction with a fragmentary and deliberately punning

text.

(138)

Lamb also sees the episode of The Remise as a focal point, drawing our attention to

Yoricks breaking of the silence because he wants to name the situation at the outset and control

it which results in the lady releasing his hand (289). Language can be seen as creating deferral

by breaking down a social interaction, and is thusly deferential as well as destructive. It seems to

be a return to silence which helps mend the moment. As Yorick reports: in a very few seconds

she laid her hand upon the cuff of my coat, in order to finish her reply; so some way or other,

God knows how, I regained my situation. She had nothing to add (16). It is not through

language, but through a lack of language that the situation is rectified, and similarly it is through

a lack of spoken words that meaningful communication is reestablished: the pulsations of the

arteries along my fingers pressing across hers told her what was passing within me, and subtle

variation in the pressure each party applied to the hand of the other was enough to add further

complexity to their interaction (16). Just as in the interaction with the French officer, there is a

clarity which is created between multiple parties when language is not used as a conduit for

communication.

Kavanagh relies on the theories of Jacques Derrida, most notably his notion of

differance, the core concepts of which are the dual meanings present within the french verb

diffrer: to differ and to defer. Differance refers to what in classical language would be called

the origin or production of differences and the differences between differences, the play [jeu] of
differences. Its locus and operation will therefore be seen wherever speech appeals to difference

(Derrida, 279). An example of this play of differences can be most notably seen during Yoricks

interaction with The Wigmaker. The wig needs to be moistened, and, as Yorick tells us, it would

simply be dipped into a bucket in England. The French artisan however prescribes that it be

dipped into the Ocean. Yorick, as a reflective character, muses on the enjoyable incongruences

between the wide Sea and a small, but more accessible, bucket. Yorick is correct that the

comparison between these two bodies of water is similar to comparing time to eternity (41).

This, however, is not the end of it; Yorick sees that the way in which the French express things

creates grandeur is more in the word; and less in the thing (42). The a within differance

relates most closely to Derridas distinction between written and spoken language, but this

distinction can also be seen to relate to Derridas distinction between Speech and Language.

Classical language can be seen as a code, which has evolved into the ever-changing code

of modern language, and speech is something else. Differance dictates all the relations between

usage and the formal schema, between the message and the particular code (290). Perhaps the

salt content of the ocean would be beneficial, but in essence water is water. There is, as we are

reminded by our narrator, a distinction here between the medium of the message, and the

message itself; the instruction to moisten the wig is more important than the metaphor used to

relay this message. Yorick himself tells us that Paris is inland, and that he sees no reason to travel

to the seaside rather than to the bucket in the next room, thus this particular inaccuracy is

rectified. The fact that this problem is rectified, however, is secondary to the fact that our

attention is drawn to the pitfalls of this code-structure.

 The deferring of differance can also be seen within A Sentimental Journey. One example

is evident in Yoricks extended musings and meditations on small objects or events (the snuff

box, or a brief holding of hands, a wig, or a pulse) drawing out the temporalizing quality of

language. As Derrida explains, when we cannot take hold of or show the thing, let us say the

present, the being-present, when the present does not present itself, then we signify, we go

through the detour of signs. The signs would thus be a deferred presence (284). Yorick, within

his own text, uses a structure of a linguistic signifier which gestures to the signified thing itself,

which itself gestures as a signifier to a further conceptual signified (the linguistic snuff box

gesturing to the thing itself, which gestures to and represents a complex relationship with death

and forgiveness). This perceived and, to borrow a term from Kavanagh, slightly masturbatory

sentimentalism is an instance of exaggeratedly deferred meaning and presence, doubly so for the

infinitely deferred presence of the dead monk. Derrida does allow us to stretch his concept of

deferral beyond a wholly linguistic system by pointing out that whether it is a question of verbal

or written signs, monetary signs, electoral delegates, or political representatives, the movement

of signs defers the moment of encountering the thing itself (284). Differance is what makes the

movement of signification possible only if each element that is said to be present is related to

something other than itself but retains the mark of a past element and already lets itself be

hollowed out by the mark of its relation to a future element (288).

This malleability of meaning can be seen within The Captive as the bird holds within its

image part of itself, but also the ability for Yoricks musings, the hallucinatory episode of the

human prisoner and the birds seeming commodification as it is passed through various owners.
And even this malleability of meaning is trapped, like the starling, within a discussion of the

difficulties of language, as Kavanagh describes:

The starling has been taught to speak a phrase in English: I cant get out. On one

level this means nothing, if we assume that the starling does not know what the

words mean, or at best it has accidental meaning. On another level, it is a

statement of fact. In yet another way the words are meaningless, since for the

French the words it spoke meant nothing.

(141)

The bird is in a way trapped by the complex structure of language as such, and Yoricks

intervention in a very literal way can do nothing to free it from this structure. Some

readers hold this as one of the key moments which highlights Yoricks supposed sentimentalism

and empathy, yet as Kavanagh reminds us he does not release the bird (141). Perhaps his attempt

holds merit, but let us remember that it is not his empathy for the bird, but language which starts

this interaction: I was interrupted he writes with a voice which I took to be of a child, which

complained it could not get out (Sterne 59). Even the cry of the trapped bird is initially quoted

inaccurately, where the sentence would have allowed for an accurate recreation of its words

within the same quotation structure.

The combination of what Derrida refers to as spacing (the difference, opposition, and

distinction between terms) and temporalizing (the delay, deferral, or detour that occurs within

language), as held within the singular sign of differance, both seem to exist within A Sentimental

Journey. The ultimate relation, however, seems to come with regards to the novels

unconventional close. So that when I stretchd out my hand, I caught hold of the Fille de
Chambres(Sterne 104): we see a representation of a reaching toward a not fully defined other

which is neither actualized in affirmation or denial. A Schrdinger-esque linguistic super-

position which forces an infinite deferral of actualized meaning.

The two works The Life and Opinions of Tristram Shandy, Gentleman and A Sentimental

Journey are quite separate, but I believe teasing out Sternes discussion of the complexities of

language from across two of his works will add complexity and valuable illumination to the

discussion. Language itself is also problematized by Sterne in The Life and Opinions of Tristram

Shandy, Gentleman. One notable example comes early in volume two, in which Tristram

discusses his uncle Tobys difficulty in communicating how he came to be injured. In relation to

his uncles description of a complex military interaction, Tristram says in his endeavours to

explain them, and in opposition to many misconceptions, that my uncle Toby did oft times puzzle

his visiters[sic]; and sometimes himself too (74). Tristram seems not to think this as a failing of

Toby, as he states that unless all the parties involved were in their most clear-headed states when

discussing the siege of Namur, it was very difficult to keep the discourse free from obscurity

(74).

This appreciation of the complexity and inaccuracy of language fits quite nicely with the

discussion of language we have already entered into with regards to A Sentimental Journey. The

solution to the problematic inaccuracies of language Tristram exposes to us is, ironically, to

move further away from language itself: Toby decides to acquire a large map of the area of

Namur to use as a visual aid. As Robert Griffin points out, Toby provides a poignant example of

the disordering of human experiences and discourse from building systems on apparently
precise terms (109) as twas not by ideas, by heaven! his life was but in jeopardy by

words ( Sterne 78). We see an interesting correlation here with semiology and linguistics

through Tristrams separating of the concepts of ideas and words which is highlighted further by

Griffins assertion that language, specifically the diegetic linguistic system of Tristram Shandy, is

made up of units which only appear to the temporally stagnant observer as precise.

This gap, the signifier-signified relation as understood by one individual being at odds

with the paradigmatic understanding of the same structure by another individual, is not only

problematized within the text and rectified by Tobys choice to use visual aids, but is one of the

most difficult hurdles we are forced to overcome when trying to communicate with others.

Perhaps Sterns ironic suggestion is as good a solution as any: we could just not speak at all. Or

at least not rush to speech, remembering that communication is made more complex by the ever-

changing linguistic code we are forced to use. This mirrors the deferred sentence of Toby, begun

in one volume, but not completed until the next. The squiggle (550) is another definite

manifestation of the lack of accuracy on the linguistic form, as, assuming the movement of the

Corporals stick was accurately traced, its inclusion allows for much greater description of a

movement than language would allow, or at the very least it allows for an easier transfer of

information.

The Yorick of A Sentimental Journey is an important unit within the discussion of

Differance and language as a problematic structure in that, as Lamb believes, he believes that

texts and the world, if properly written and read, are joined in a common essence (311).
 Returning to Kavanagh, we can see how A Sentimental Journey deals with the gap

between language and meaning (138) and that language itself is the unifying feature of the novel

rather than the conventional unifying structure of a plot. This is what allows for the

unconventional end to the narrative of the novel; a traditional plot requires conclusion, but

language can be less finite and definite. A conventional ending would in some ways call forth

the death of the text, which is symbolic of death itself which both the character of Yorick and

the real figure of Sterne are attempting to postpone (Kavanagh, 140); By refusing an ending

[Sterne] provides endless beginnings in a text which also asks the reader to create their own

narrative motion (143). Even in the final moments of the text, we find echoes of Derridas

complex treatise on the complexity of our contemporary linguistic form.

A Sentimental Journey can be read as having a multitude of meaning, but the structure of

plot the device which allows for the actualization of meaning in conventional texts is

secondary to language within this decidedly unconventional work. Language itself is both the

subject of discussion and the element which creates complexities within this particular narrative

structure. The only recommendation, which seems to exist in both Tristram Shandy and A

Sentimental Journey is to abandon language, or, more accurately, accept the inaccuracies and

take them in stride. Rather than becoming frustrated with the code, we can use a map, or be

content with our less-than-prefect translation of the pressure of a lovers hand within our own.

Though we may not be able to communicate with classical language, perhaps the alternative

provided by Laurence Sterne is not as terrible as the figure of Shakespearian death and silence

which our narrative guide reminds us of. And recalling the scene when Hamlet is reunited with
his own Yorick, memories of happiness can be held within the spectre of silence, which time

itself cannot destroy.