These are the words Laurence Sterne used to describe the vicarage at Coxwold. A ‘retired thatched house’ in a place remote from the concerns of even a provincial city, such as York. Perhaps Sterne did not see this as a promising location from which to change the course of world literature. It is difficult to imagine what life in a remote Yorkshire village was like in the 1700s. Far more people worked on the land, while today the holiday cottage dwellings mean occupancy fluctuates each week, and there will be seasons when only a few people inhabit the place. The population was 348 in the early 19th century – and 250 in 2021.
Despite a limited literary output, Sterne’s work is recognised for its transformative impact on the course of Anglo-Irish literature. It was an influence for James Joyce, Salman Rushdie and many others.
Sterne was adept in deflating many of the pompous debates of his time. In chapter 20 of the first book of The Life and Opinions of Tristram Shandy, where birth is such a central theme, there is a digression about the baptism of babies before they are born. The view in Catholic circles to this point had been that at least some part of the baby must be born in order for a baptism to take place. Inevitably, there were circumstances when the baby had died in the womb and where it was believed that baptism was impossible. (There is a history in northern Europe where the Church operated ‘Resurrection Chapels’ to enable the baptism of a baby which was stillborn – Swift, p.119). However, the debate that Sterne cites in this section of the book looks to marry advancing technology with the possibility that a baptism could take place before birth:
Le Chirurgien, qui consulte, prétend, par le moyen d’une petite canulle, de pouvoir baptiser immediatement l’enfant, sans faire aucun tort à la mere.
The surgeon who raises the question asserts that by means of a little injection-pipe he can baptize the child directly, without doing any harm to the mother.
Sterne, L. (1759). The Life and Opinions of Tristram Shandy, Gentleman (reissued).
In this debate Sterne is not oblivious to the dubious nature of a suggestion, in which male medics and male theologians decide that a medical procedure – with no medical benefit – will not result in any harm to the mother. In his imaginative response to this scholarly discussion Sterne takes the argument a stage further, and suggests that one way to avoid any doubt in the matter would be to baptise all of a man’s sperm. (This reflects thinking at the time that there was a fixed stock of sperm containing ‘homunculi’ – minuscule people ready to grow once in the womb). Chapter 20 concludes with the thought that a little injection-pipe could be inserted into the man (‘sans faire auxin tort au père’), between marriage and consummation, to ensure a ‘shorter and safer’ way to baptism. The reader is left to ponder whether male theologians and medics would find this a better solution.
Simultaneously this passage hints at how medical technology might affect sacramental practice, while lampooning male discussions which determine what will do no harm to women. In pushing the ideas further, Sterne discomforts his male readers – and certainly amuses his female audience – in suggesting that sticking a cannula into a penis would be more effective ‘without doing any harm to the father’. It would also provide an interesting ceremony on the day of the wedding.
If Coxwold is a ‘bye corner of the Kingdom’ it didn’t stop Sterne writing some of the most adventurous and sophisticated prose of English literature. Thankfully, The Laurence Sterne Trust continues to stimulate interest in the author’s legacy and enable artists to engage with his work. In its most recent exhibition a range of creative people have been challenged to interpret the opening words of Shandy – ‘I wish’ – to reflect on their response to the text. This vibrant exhibition is a fitting contribution to the 50th anniversary celebrations of Shandy Hall’s existence as a public museum.
Swift Reflections 