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hope that the prayers of the dying warrior were heard and accepted by Him who heareth prayer, and that he quitted life in a spirit different from that of Peter the Great, who said on his death-bed, "I trust that, in respect of the good I have striven to do my people, God will pardon my sins!"* Mr. Alison "charitably hopes that these words have been realized"-he might have lamented the fallaciousness of Peter's reliance.

Marlborough's funeral obsequies were celebrated with extraordinary magnificence, and all ranks and all parties joined in doing him honor. On the sides of the car bearing the coffin, shields were affixed containing emblematic representations of his battles and sieges. Blenheim was there, and the Schellemberg, Ramilies, Oudenarde, and Malplaquet; Ruremonde and Liege, Menin and Dendermonde, Antwerp and Brussels, Ostend and Ghent, Tournay and Lille, Mons and Bouchain, Bethune, St. Venant, and Aire. "The number, and the recollections with which they were fraught, made the English * ALISON, ii. 100.

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ashamed of the manner in which they had used the hero who had filled the world with his renown.'

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Thus lived, and thus died, and thus was buried, John Duke of Marlborough, of whom Lord Mahont takes leave in a strain of solemnity and dignity befitting the occasion:—

"England lost one of her noblest worthies in John Duke of Marlborough. His achievements do not fall within my limits, and his character seems rather to belong to the historians of another period. Let them endeavor to delineate his vast and various abilities-that genius which saw humbled before it the proudest mareschals of Francethat serenity of temper which enabled him patiently to bear, and bearing to evercome, all the obstinacy of the Dutch deputies, all the slowness of the German generals-those powers of combination so provident of failure, and so careful of details, that it might almost be said of him that before he gave any battle he had already won it! Let them describe him in council as in arms, not always righteous in his end, but ever mighty in his

means!"

* ALISON, p. 307.

+ History of England, ii. 41, 42.

TURNER'S FACILITY OF PAINTING.-The | the last to quit in the evening. He might picture of "The burning of the Houses of Lords and Commons" was almost entirely painted on the walls of the exhibition. His facility at this period of his life was astounding. He would frequently send his canvas to the British Institution with nothing upon it but a gray groundwork of vague, indistinguishable forms, and finish it up on the varnishing-day into a work of great splendor. Likewise at the Academy he frequently sent his canvas imperfect and sketchy, trusting entirely to varnishing-days for the completion of his picture. It was astonishing what he accomplished on those days. For the information of such of our readers as are not acquainted with the rules of the Academy in this respect, it may be as well to explain, that when the exhibition is arranged, four days are allowed to Academicians and one to general exhibitors to touch and varnish their pictures. Turner was always the first at the Academy on these occasions, arriving there frequently as early as five o'clock, and never later than six, and he was invariably

be seen standing all day before his pictures, and, though he worked so long, he appeared to be doing little or nothing. His touches were almost imperceptible, yet his pictures were seen in the end to have advanced wonderfully. He acquired such a mastery in early life that he painted with a certainty that was almost miraculous. Although his effects were imperceptible on a near inspection of the picture, he knew unhesitatingly how to produce them, without retiring from his work to test the result. He was never seen, like Sir Thomas Lawrence and others, to be perpetually walking, although his pictures were scarcely intelligible to the spectator, except at a particular focal distance. And, what was equally extraordinary, he would, while occupied upon one picture, run off to another at the same time. His mind would compass simultaneously the requirements of two or even more pictures. While painting one, he would suddenly turn away on the thought of some desideratum in another.-Literary Gazette.

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"WHO was John Sterling?" is a question | What has he left as a legacy to us by which we have more than once heard put since the to know and remember him? announcement of his biography by Carlyle. Sterling was he some hero? or does Carlyle, who so often speaks through personations of his own invention, mean by Sterling some Anti M'Growler, Plugson of Undershot, or Sir Jabesh Windbag? No! John Sterling was a veritable man-a living, struggling, hard-working man—a really loving and lovable man--one who took captive the hearts of even the sternest, and bound them to him by the strong ties of friendship. He seems to have been one of those beautiful natures that carry about with them a charm to captivate all beholders. They are full of young genius, full of promise, full of enthusiasm; and seem to be on the highroad towards honor, fame, and glory, when suddenly their career is cut short by death, and their friends are left bewailing and lamenting.

Just such another character was Charles Pemberton a man of somewhat kindred genius to Sterling-who had done comparatively little, but had excited great hopes among a circle of ardent friends and admirers, whom he had riveted to him by certain indefinable personal and intellectual charms; when he was stricken down by death, and, like Sterling, left only a few scattered "Remains" to be judged by. Poor Keats, too, died just as he had given to the world the promise of one of its greatest men, but not before he had sent down into the future, strains of undying paesy. Shelley, too! What a loss was there! What glorious promise of a Man did he not offer! But the names of the great, who have died in youth, are more than can be told: as Shelley sang

"The good die first,

While they whose hearts are dry as summer's dust

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Burn to their socket."

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We have now two lives of him, written by two of his many intimate friends and devoted admirers-Archdeacon Hare and Thomas Carlyle. That two such men should have written a life of Sterling, would argue of itself something in his character and career more than ordinary. Archdeacon Hare's came first: his work was in two volumes, containing the collected Essays and Tales of John Sterling, with a memoir of his Life. On reading that Life, interesting and beautiful though it was, one could not help feeling that there was a good deal remaining untold; and that the tone adopted in speaking of John Sterling's opinions on religious subjects was unnecessarily apologetic. It seems to have been this circumstance which has drawn forth the life by Carlyle. "Archdeacon Hare,' says Carlyle, "takes up Sterling as a clergyman merely. Sterling, I find, was a curate for exactly eight months. But he was a man, and had relation to the Universe for eight and thirty years; and it is in this latter character, to which all the others were but features and transitory hues, that we wish to know him. His battle with hereditary Church-formulas was severe; but it was by no means his one battle with things inherited, nor indeed his chief battle; neither, according to my observation of what it was, is it successfully delineated or summed up in this book. A pale sickly shadow in torn surplice is presented to us here; weltering bewildered amid heaps of what you call Hebrew Old-clothes; wrestling, with impotent impetuosity, to free itself from the baleful imbroglio, as if that had been its one function in life: who, in this miserable figure, would recognize the brilliant, beautiful, and cheerful John Sterling, with his everflowing wealth of ideas, fancies, imaginations; with his frank affections, inexhaustible hopes, audacities, activities, and general radiant vivacity of

But what of Sterling? What did he do? heart and intelligence, which made the

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presence of him an illumination and inspiration wherever he went? It is too bad. Let a man be honestly forgotten when his life ends; but let him not be misremembered in this way. To be hung up as an ecclesiastical scarecrow, as a target for heterodox and orthodox to practise archery upon, is no fate that can be due to the memory of Sterling." And so Carlyle determined to give this more catholic portraiture of his deceased friend. Let us now examine the incidents and the more prominent features of Sterling's life.

The life is that of a literary man, and presents comparatively few incidents. Even as a literary man, he was never at any time a notoriety, and his name never filled the mouths of men, nor was seen in the newspapers. He was comparatively unknown, except by his own circle of ardent admirers. We give a few facts about his early history. Sterling was born at Kaimes Castle, in the island of Bute, Scotland, in 1806, of Irish parents, who were both of Scotch extraction; the mother was somewhat proud of being a descendant of Wallace, the Scottish hero. Edward Sterling, the father, pursued farming; he had been a militia captain, and took to it as a calling, by way of helping out the family means. From Bute, he removed From Bute, he removed to Llanblethian, in Glamorganshire, in 1809, where the family remained till 1814. Here the young Sterling's childhood was nurtured amid forms of wild and romantic beauty: But his father, the captain, was an ardent minded active man, and could ill confine himself to the small details of Welsh farming. His thoughts were abroad. He corresponded with newspapers. He wrote a pamphlet. He sent letters to the Times, signed Vetus, which were afterwards thought worthy of being collected and, reprinted. The captain went further. He left his farm in Wales, and proceeded to Paris, with the project of acting as foreign correspondent for the Times newspaper. His family accompanied him to Paris, where they stayed some eight months, until the sudden return of Napoleon from Elba, when they had to decamp to England on the instant. Captain Sterling returned to London, where he finally settled; and before long became a very notorious, if not a distinguished personage. His connection with the Times newspaper grew closer, until at length he became extensively known as "The Thunderer of the Times," and was publicly lashed by O'Connell in that character; Sterling, on his part,

returning the great agitator's compliments with full interest. The character and history of this Times editor-a great power of his day-are given at some length by Carlyle, who seems to dwell upon the subject with much pleasure. Indeed, it forms one of the most delightful and interesting parts of the book.

The boy was schooled in London, and grew as boys like him will grow; he was quick, clever, cheerful, gallant, generous, self-willed, and rather difficult to manage. A little letter of his to his mother is given in the biography, written when he was twelve years, showing that he had "run away" from his home at Blackheath, to Dover. The cause had been some slight or indignity put upon him which he could not bear. But he was brought home, and like other child's 'slights" it was soon forgotten. As a boy, he was a great reader in the promiscuous line; reading Edinburgh Reviews, cart-loads of novels, and "wading like Ulysses towards his palace, through infinite dung." At sixteen he was sent to Glasgow University, where he lived with some of his mother's connections. Then, at nineteen, he proceeded to Trinity College, Cambridge, where he had for his tutor Julius Hare, now the Archdeacon, his biographer.

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Though not an exact scholar, Sterling became well and extensively read, possessing great facilities of assimilation for all kinds of mental diet. His studies were irregular and discursive, but extensive and encyclopedic. At Cambridge he was brought into friendly connection with many afterwards distinguished men- -Frederick Maurice, Richard Trench, John Kemble, Charles Buller, Monckton Milnes, and others, who were afterwards in life his fast friends. Sterling was. a ready and a brilliant speaker at the Union Club; and already began to exhibit strong "Radical" leanings, displaying no small daring in his attacks upon established ideas and things. In short," says Carlyle, "he was a young and ardent soul, looking with hope and joy into a world which was infinitely beautiful to him, though overhung with falsities and foul cobwebs as world never was before; over-loaded, over-clouded, to the zenith and the nadir of it, by incredible uncredited traditions, solemnly sordid hypocrisies, and beggarly deliriums old and new; which latter class of objects it was clearly the part of every noble heart to expend all its lightnings and energies in burning up without delay, and sweeping into

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their native Chaos out of such a Cosmos as this."

It was Sterling's intention to take a degree in Law at Cambridge, but, like many other of his intentions, it came to nothing; and after a two years' residence, his university life ended. What to do next? He has grown into manhood, and must have a "profession." What is it to be?. Is it to be the Law, or the Church? or, is he to enter the career of trade, and make money in it, thereby to secure the temporary hallelujah of flunkeys?" His "Radical" notions gave him a deep aversion to the pursuit of the Law; and as for the Church, at that time, he had sported ideas at Cambridge about its "black dragoon," which showed that his leanings were not that way. The true career for Sterling, in Carlyle's opinion, was Parliament, and it was possibly with some such ultimate design in view, that Sterling engaged himself as secretary to a public association of gentlemen, got up for the purpose of opening the trade to India. But the association did not live long, and the secretaryship lapsed.

One other course remained open for Sterling--the career of Literature, and he plunged into it. Joining his friend Maurice, the copyright of the Athenæum (which Silk Buckingham had some time before established) was purchased, and there he printed his first literary effusions, many of which are preserved in Archdeacon Hare's Collection crude, imperfect, yet singularly beautiful and attractive papers, as for instance, The Lycian Painter, containing seeds of great promise. Yet, as Carlyle observes, "a grand melancholy is the prevailing impression they leave; partly as if, while the surface was so blooming and opulent, the heart of them was still vacant, sad, and cold. The writer's heart is indeed still too vacant, except of beautiful shadows and reflexes and resonances; and is far from joyful, though it wears commonly a smile." He himself used afterwards to speak of this as his "period of darkness."

The Athenæum did not prosper in Sterling's hands. He did not understand commercial management, which is absolutely necessary for the success even of a literary journal. So the Athenæum was transferred to other hands, under which it throve vigorf ously. But the Athenæum had introduced Sterling into the literary life of London, which tended to confirm him in his pursuit. Among the celebrities with whom he now had familiar intercourse, was Coleridge,

whose home at Highgate Hill he often visited, and there he listened to that eloquent talker playing the magician with his auditors-"a dusky sublime character, who sat there as a kind of Magus, girt in mystery and enigma, whispering strange things, uncertain whether oracle or jargon." The influence which Coleridge exercised upon the religious thinking of his day, was unquestionably great, dreamy and speculative though he was; but whether it will survive, whether the religious life of the world will be advanced in any way by Coleridge's lofty, musings, is matter of great doubt to many; because, glorious though the rumbling of his sonorous voice was, you too often felt, that it died away in sound, leaving no solid, appreciable, practical, intelligible meaning behind it. But on this wide question we shall not enter. Certain it was that Sterling, notwithstanding his "Radical" notions, was for the time deeply influenced by his intercourse with Coleridge, and by what Carlyle calls his 'thrice-refined pabulum of transcendental moonshine." This sufficiently ap

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pears in the novel of Arthur Coningsby, which Sterling wrote in 1830--his only prose book.

About this time Sterling deeply interested himself in the fate of some poor, Spanish emigrés, driven out of their own country by some revolution there, and then vegetating about Somer's Town, beating the pavement in Euston Square. Their chief was Gen. Torrijos, with whom Sterling had become intimate, and in whose fortunes he took a warm interest. Torrijos was zealous in the cause of his country; he would effect a landing, revolutionize and liberalize Spain; but he wanted money. Sterling was interested by the romance of the thing, and he also warmly sympathized with the sentiments of the old general. . He proceeded to raise money amongst his friends; money was collected; arms were bought; a ship was provided by Lieutenant Boyd, an Irishman; the ship was in the Thames, taking in its armament, when lo! the police suddenly appeared on board, and the vessel was seized and its stores confiscated. Torrijos, Boyd, and some others, did afterwards manage to land in Spain; where they met with an exceedingly tragical ending.

But something else issued from this Spanish misadventure, of interest to Sterling. He had become acquainted with the Misses Barton, the daughters of Lieutenant-General Barton of the Life Guards-very delightful

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"You are going, then, to Spain? To rough it amid the storms of war and perilous insurrection; and with that weak health of yours; and we shall never see you more then! Miss Barton, all her gaiety gone, the dimpling softness become liquid sorrow, and the musical ringing voice one wail of woe, 'burst into tears' so I have it on authority. Here was one possibility about to be strangled that made unexpected noise! Sterling's interview ended in the offer of his hand, and the acceptance of it!"

So Sterling quitted the Spanish expedition, and married Susannah Barton. But scarcely was he married ere he fell seriously ill-so ill that he lay utterly prostrate for weeks, and his life was long despaired of. His career after this was a constant alternation of health and illness, rampant good spirits and prostrate feebleness. His lungs were affected, and consumption began to show indications of its coming. The doctors, however, gave hopes of him-only it was necessary he should remove to a warmer climate. His family had inherited a valuable property in the West Indies, at St. Vincent, whither he went to reside in 1831, and remained in that beautiful island, under the hot sun of the tropics, for about fifteen months, returning to England greatly improved in health. From thence he went to Bonn, in Germany, where he met with his old friend and quondam tutor, the Rev. Julius Hare, then and now Rector of Herstmorceux, in Sussex. With him, Sterling had much serious talk on religious matters.

Sterling, still under the influence of the Coleridgian views, which had been working within him at St. Vincent and since, expressed to Mr. Hare a wish to enter the Church, as a minister, which Mr. Hare "strongly urged" him to do, offering to appoint him to his own curacy at Herstmorceux, which was then vacant. Shortly after, he returned to England, was ordained deacon at Chichester, in 1834, and was appointed curate immediately after, entering earnestly on the duties of that calling. But this lasted only for some eight months, when his health, certain "misgivings," doubts and distresses of mind, compelled him to withdraw, and he left London | again, finally to embark on the great sea of

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literature, which, he felt to be his proper vocation. Carlyle designates his acceptance of the curacy as of the curacy as "the crowning error" of Sterling's life. No man of Sterling's veracity," says he, "had he clearly consulted his own heart, of had his own heart been capable of clearly responding, and not been dazzled and bewildered by transient fantasies, and theosophic moonshine, could have undertaken this function. His heart would have answered: No, thou canst not. What is incredible to thee, thou shalt not, at thy soul's peril, attempt to believe! Elsewhither for a refuge, or die here. Go to perdition, if thou must-but not with a lie in thy mouth!""

Carlyle twice heard Sterling preach, and thus describes the occasions: "It was in some new college-chapel in Somerset House; a very quiet, small place, the audience student-looking youths, with a few elder people, perhaps mostly friends of the preacher's. The discourse, delivered with a grave sonorous composure, and far surpassing in talent the usual run of sermons, had withal an air of human veracity, as I still recollect, and bespoke dignity and piety of mind; but gave me the impression rather of artistic excellence than of unction or inspiration in that kind. Sterling returned with us to Chelsea that day; and in the afternoon we went on the Thames Putneyward together, we two with my wife; under the sunny skies, on the quiet water, and with copious cheery talk, the remembrance of which is still present enough to me.

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This was properly my only specimen of Sterling's preaching. Another time, late in the same autumn, I did indeed attend him one evening to some church in the Citya big church behind Cheapside, Wren,' as he carefully informed me-but there, in my wearied mood, the chief subject of reflection was the almost total vacancy of the place, and how an eloquent soul was preaching to mere lamps and prayerbooks; and of the sermon I retain no image. It came up in the way of banter, if he ever urged the duty of Church extension,' which already he very seldom did, and at length never, what a specimen we once had of bright lamps, gilt prayerbooks, baize-lined pews, Wren-built architecture; and how, in almost all directions, you might have fired a musket through the church, and hit no Christian life. A terrible outlook, indeed, for the apostolic laborer in the brick and mortar line!"

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