“Coxwould, Nov. 15th, 1767.
“Now be a good, dear woman, my H——, and execute those commissions well, and when I see you I will give you a kiss—there's for you! But I have something else for you which I am fabricating at a great rate, and that is my Sentimental Journey, which shall make you cry as much as it has affected me, or I will give up the business of sentimental writing ...
“I am yours, &c. &c.,
“T. Shandy.”
TO THE EARL OF ——.
“Coxwould, Nov. 28th, 1767.
“MY LORD—'Tis with the greatest pleasure I take my pen to thank your lordship for your letter of inquiry about Yorick—he was worn out, both his spirits and body, with the Sentimental Journey; 'tis true, then, an author must feel himself, or his reader will not—but I have torn my whole frame into pieces by my feelings—I believe the brain stands as much in need of recruiting as the body; therefore I shall set out for town the twentieth of next month, after having recruited myself a week at York. I might indeed solace myself with my wife (who is come from France), but, in fact, I have long been a sentimental being, whatever your lordship may think to the contrary.”
“It is known that Sterne died in hired lodgings, and I have been told that his attendants robbed him even of his gold sleeve-buttons while he was expiring.”—Dr. Ferriar.
“He died at No. 41 (now a cheesemonger's) on the west side of Old Bond Street.—Handbook of London.”
“In February, 1768, Laurence Sterne, his frame exhausted by long debilitating illness, expired at his lodgings in Bond Street, London. There was something in the manner of his death singularly resembling the particulars detailed by Mrs. Quickly, as attending that of Falstaff, the compeer of Yorick for infinite jest, however unlike in other particulars. As he lay on his bed totally exhausted, he complained that his feet were cold, and requested the female attendant to chafe them. She did so, and it seemed to relieve him. He complained that the cold came up higher; and whilst the assistant was in the act of chafing his ankles and legs, he expired without a groan. It was also remarkable that his death took place much in the manner which he himself had wished; and that the last offices were rendered him, not in his own house, or by the hand of kindred affection, but in an inn, and by strangers.