REVISED 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 appears

postmodern avant la lettre, not least because of its unconventional narrative structure and

potential for a multiplicity of interpretations depending on the readers perspective. Multiple

understandings of a clause often rise from imprecise language, but in the case of A Sentimental

Journey, Sterne uses inaccuracies in language and between languages to draw attention to the

inaccuracies of the linguistic-code itself. Again and again, we are confronted by languages

inability to actualize concrete meaning between two or more discrete parties; each individuals

understanding of an individual word may differ slightly. As Sternes text is first and foremost a

travel narrative, these minor differences which can compound to create misunderstanding even

when two parties are speaking the same language, are often intensified as they are stretched

across the disparate linguistic groups of English and French. The text can easily be read 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 on secondary analyses of Sterne, and

Derridas theory of Differance, 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. I will

examine how Sterne uses the unconventional structure of his travel narrative, and action within

Tristram Shandy, to expose the complex and at times irrational connection between language and
communication, and to problematize this ever-changing lexicographical code. By reading the text

through a Derridian framework, one can better understand the complex structure of language as

seen by Sterne, and perhaps see the value taking the time to communicate as accurately as

possible: especially in this post-truth era of fake-news and the like.

In her analysis of A Sentimental Journey, Kavanagh relies on Jacques Derridas theory of

differance as a structure within her argumentation, 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). Classical language, as opposed to

language as we experience it, can be read as an origin point of language itself or a pure and

accurate linguistic code before it became in-constant. As language became more fluid in its

meaning, the existence of differences created a space in which conceptualization could occur.

These inaccuracies allow for both confusion and yet also the ability of more complex meaning.

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). There is a beauty in the word ocean as it primarily ties to a
seemingly infinite signified, however within the context of the episode the signifier ocean is

related most closely to the signified water, which is contained within the very mundane and

limited bucket.

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). The distance between signifier and signified, created by differences and deferrals,

provides a space wherein both our conceptions and misconceptions of events both

experienced and reported can develop. The message can, in a way, swell within this space,

and create an idea which is broader than the specific definitions of each of the phrases

constituent words. 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, and as such we at

least find an example of overcoming the inaccuracies inherent in communication, although it

may not always be possible. 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, and we are also reminded that

the context of a word or phrase is as important to our deciphering of the particular code as the
units of that same code. The environment of the message is integral to the interpretation of the

message itself.

A Sentimental Journey is an internal journey through an external landscape, as Keryl

Kavanagh writes, in which we find an expression of the incompatibility of travel and

communication (136). Throughout this journey, we are often reminded of how difficult it can be

to communicate our sensations both physical and emotional to others. One example,

which is doubly relevant considering our current discussion of language, is the episode titledThe

Translation, where Yorick explores the possibilities and limitations of communicating with

others while at the opera (Kavanagh 137). As he enters the opera box, Yorick finds only a lone

French officer, who interestingly reminds him of the late Captain Tobias Shandy, the dearest of

[his] flock and friends (47). Referred to as Uncle Toby within Tristram Shandy, Toby is a

figure who is frustrated with the imperfections of spoken language and decides to use visual aids

rather than oral communication. We will return to the discussion of Toby presently, but Sternes

reference to this established character clarifies the thesis of the episode. As he enters the box

Yorick informs us first of the physical movements of the occupant. The Officer closes the

pamphlet he is engaged in, and places his glasses into their case. Yorick offers the man a bow,

and then offers the following comment to the reader:

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 nose 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)

The primary translation Sterne is referencing in the title of this section is the translation of body

language and socially-normative conventions into an internalized language; the French Officer

says nothing to Yorick orally, so the words within Yoricks mind are his own, regardless of whos

actions inspired them. When addressing this passage, it is important to remember Yoricks latent

sarcasm throughout the text. The transition from the signifier-movements to the interpretive

signified-meaning within our narrator not only creates a wide space for misinterpretation, but the

assertion that it could be translated into any civilized language also forgoes the possibility of

any culturally-specific understandings. We hear his 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). Recognizing movement is often intuitive

and self evident, but the translation of these movements into language is a much less accurate

activity. The observation of an environment is initially exact assuming of course the observer

is attentive but even as soon as one meditates on an environment via translating these

observations into an internalized language we begin to loose accuracy. Sterne-as-Yorick has his

tongue firmly pressed into his cheek as he suggests that the implicit language of the body is

interchangeable with spoken language.

 As much of the frustration with language is mediated through the journal-like reporting

of Yorick, it is useful to see a similar understanding of the linguistic form from another textual

perspective. Finding a similar philosophy across two works allows us a chance to solidify the

assumed closeness between Yoricks beliefs and those of Sterne himself. 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).

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.

Across any time at all, the meaning of these precise terms will begin to bend and distort.

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 Sternes 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 in 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. In a perfect world, we would perhaps be able to avoid language at all, but as things

are, we must remember to allow for the translation of meaning between one persons words an

another.

Yorick, in the episode titled The Remise, finds himself in the happy situation of holding

hands with an attractive stranger. Rather than simply enjoying the situation, he draws the ladys

attention to the loveliness of their contact, which causes her to react unfavourably from

Yoricks perspective and disengage her hand (16). Jonathan Lamb 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). His desire to define this moment using a language not only breaks down the social

interaction, but the attempt and subsequent destruction of the moment propels the action forward.

This forces Yorick to regain the physical contact: a narrative representation of the deferral

present in language, as differance posits. 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).

An instability of meaning is heightened when interacting across multiple linguistic

groups, complicating interpretations and increasing the likelihood of misunderstandings. In The

Remise we find a juxtaposition of a words meaning in different languages as well as a

multitude of meanings within a single language. 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). 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 (138). She gestures here to the Derridean concept of

deferral.

Kavanagh concludes that Sterne is skeptical of the intrinsic value of language as such.

Even on a surface level, Sterne shows us a Yorick often confronted by the inaccuracies of

communication; one such example is relatively mundane, as Yorick forgets directions before he

had not gone ten paces from the woman kind enough to offer them (43). Lamb also asserts that

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). Spoken language is neither the only, nor necessarily the best, technique for

communicating (295), as being lead to a destination, the movements of an Officer, or the

pressures of one hand upon another speak volumes within the diegesis. On a textual level, this

same 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). The text, when understood as an exemplification of

Sternian language, is incapable of holding firm meaning for any length of time.

Within both the narrative and textual structures of A Sentimental Journey, we can also

find examples of the deferral of differance. One such 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) which exemplify the temporalizing quality of language. Within his own text, he

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).
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). The occurrences of true

sentimentality within Yoricks journey are a narrative representation of this claim. It is not a

outlandish claim that when we cannot hold the thing itself we us a linguistic signifier, but the

example of the snuff box, for example, shows an interesting example of the theoretical size of an

idea which can be held within such a comparatively small physical or linguistic unit: within a

snuff box or a single word

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). For differance to create

meaning, the problematized fluidity of language is necessary. A word or object must retain a

piece of itself so that it can relate to other concepts, yet they must contain enough conceptual

vacuity to allow for a multitude of relations. In a rudimentary example, if words could only

contain a single meaning, similes and metaphors would be impossible, yet if words did not retain

some concrete meaning, referential language would be unintelligible. A similar structure of

repurposing images and ideas is mirrored in the exchange of snuff boxes which eventually

provides a source of introspective morality: a sensation initially outside of Yoricks sphere.

In The Captive 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 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 exist within this excerpt of A Sentimental

Journey. 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 ultimate example of deferral 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. Just as differance provides a gap

within communication which allows for interpretation and missinterpritation, the deferral at the

texts close allows space for our minds to add to the narrative. Although the work as we have

access to it is incomplete, as Yorick never completes the intended narrative or textual journey,

even the open-ending to a small section creates a conceptual space within an already fluid

narrative structure.

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 to recognize and 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,

remembering that the beauty of these moments is allowed for by the gap in our own

understanding. 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. Recalling the scene when Hamlet is

reunited with his own Yorick, memories of happiness can be held within the spectre of silence

in the theoretical vacuity created by the inherent problems in language which time itself

cannot destroy.