12 
In 1766 he made a vigorous chase for health, going down as 
far south as Naples, and then after racing over France for his 
wife, and seeking her in five or six different cities, he spends 
about a week with her, and returns to his parish duties. In 
October 1767, he was joined by the two ladies, and prepared his 
smaller work, ‘‘ The Sentimental Journey.’”’ When in London 
in March 1768, engaged in the publication of this book, the ‘vile 
influenza’ gets the better of him, and after the long conflict with 
his numerous diseases, he is compelled to yield to their repeated 
assaults. He dies in a lodging-house in Old Bond Street, away 
from his family and friends. It was his own wish that such 
might be his end; he says, ‘‘I should certainly declare against 
submitting to death before my friends, and therefore I never 
seriously think upon the mode and manner of this great 
catastrophe without this wish, that the Disposer of all things 
may so order it that it happen not to me in my own house, but 
rather in some decent inn; the few cold offices I wanted would 
be purchased with a few guineas, and paid with an undisturbed 
but punctual attention.’ A biographer says that his attendants 
robbed him even of his gold sleeve-buttons, while he was expir- 
ing. But there is a still sadder story: it is said that his body 
was taken up from the grave by body-snatchers and dissected at 
Cambridge ; all this will be found in Mr. Fitzgerald’s book, and 
also in a column written by him in the World, of August 8th, 
1888. 
% k % * * * 
Eccentricity and popularity brought him enemies as well as 
friends; petted by some, he was maligned by others; his 
acquaintance was indeed largely desired, and his merits were 
recognised by Bishops like Warburton, poets like Gray, and 
actors like Garrick, as well as by young ladies, but as he enjoyed 
the pleasures of greatness so he suffered its penalties, and was 
attacked with bitterness by some less successful than himself. 
Witness the numerous squibs upon his work, and Johnson’s insinu- 
ations, and Goldsmith’s criticisms. Another great writer, Horace 
Walpole, has unkind words about his treatment of his mother. 
The two most serious objections that have been brought 
against him, I fear, must be admitted to be real. It was not 
till some years after his death that Dr. Ferriar, wishing to add 
something to our knowledge of one of his favourite authors, 
published his “ Illustrations of Sterne.” There he brings un- 
doubted proofs that our author has in some cases transferred 
bodily whole passages from other authors without acknowledg- 
ment. The principal author whom he utilises is Burton, taking 
from the ‘‘ Anatomy of Melancholy ”’ extracts without change. 
Another fault found is that the book abounds in passages and 
suggestions of an unseemly character ; it does so, no doubt; no 
