CHAPTER XVIL

THE "LIFE OF STERLING"-SECRET OF ITS POPULARITY— ITS GRAND DEFECT-MACLEOD CAMPBELL'S CRITICISM -STERLING'S ESSAY ON CARLYLE-THE “LIFE OF FREDERICK"-ANECDOTES OF ITS PRODUCTION-ITS MERITS AND DEFECTS CARLYLE'S SOJOURN IN GERMANY-VISIT FROM THE EMPRESS OF GERMANY— ACCEPTS THE "ORDER FOR MERIT."

It was in the same epoch of his life during which he published the political pamphlets and his Cromwell, that Carlyle also prepared a small biography, which, though it gave pain to not a few readers on account of the manner in which it treated the highest of all themes, was yet universally regarded, in respect to its form, as the most exquisite work of its class produced in this generation. That first feeling, instead of wearing off, has been deepened with each succeeding year; and there are many, whose judgment is entitled to respect, ready at this moment, with unqualified confidence, to pronounce The Life of John Sterling unrivalled among all the brief biographies extant in our language-an opinion on behalf of which there is much to be said. The subject of the book, though he tried his hand at several things, was, according to Carlyle's view of him, appointed by nature for a poet; and he had barely passed the age of Burns and Byron when he was summoned from earth, not only "released from his toils before the hottest of the day,"

His Reason for Writing Sterling's Life. 257

but before his proper work had really begun. It was in 1844 that he died, at the age of thirty-eight. The memoir by Carlyle appeared in 1851. Sterling had

committed the care of his literary character and printed writings to Archdeacon Hare and Carlyle, to do for both what they judged fittest; and, after consultation between the joint-executors, it was agreed that the Archdeacon should edit the writings and write the Life. To this Carlyle consented all the more gladly, no doubt, on account of the conclusion to which he had come, that no biography at all was needed in this case, not even according to the world's usages. Sterling's "character was not supremely original, neither was his fate in the world wonderful. Why had not No Biography, and the privilege of all the weary, been his lot?" Yet he who asked this question decided eventually that poor Sterling, having already been made the subject of one biography, should have a second too. The worthy Archdeacon had treated Sterling as a clergyman merely, whereas the whole of Sterling's clerical life had been confined to exactly eight months. "But he was a man, and had relation to the Universe, for eight-and-thirty years." Respect for the truth demanded a second biography; and, without the slightest disrespect to Mr Hare, readers have reason to be glad that he fell into the professional blunder which secured for the world a new Life of his old curate by Carlyle. Of course, fault was found with the latter by some for the more than implied reflection on the good Archdeacon; but Carlyle believed that he had "a commission" for doing this bit of work "higher than the world's, the dictate of Nature herself," and he would therefore have been to blame had he failed to obey the behest.

R

Yet we do not believe that it is the main purpose the author had in view which gives to Carlyle's little book its chief interest and popularity, nor even its highest and permanent value. Describing that literary Conservatism of his uncle which caused Lord Macaulay to neglect the writings of his greatest contemporary,* Mr Trevelyan

* It was certainly not because of entire ignorance of his writings that Macaulay abstained from reading Carlyle's works. He had, of course, read all the articles contributed by him to the Edinburgh Review, including the one on Burns. The judgment he had formed of them is indicated in one of his letters to Macvey Napier, of date February 1832, in which he says: "As to Carlyle, he might as well write in Irving's unknown tongue at once. The Sun newspaper, with delicious absurdity, attributes his article to Lord Brougham.” Alas, it was not the poor Sun alone that was in darkness. In a letter to Leigh Hunt, Macaulay described Carlyle as "a man of talents, though absurdly overpraised by some of his admirers "-a phrase that lets in a little light on the writer's frame of mind; perhaps he felt the praise to be not quite so absurd as he affected to consider it. "I believe,” adds Macaulay, "though I do not know, that he ceased to write (for the Edinburgh Review), because the oddities of his diction, and his new words, compounded à la Teutonique, drew such strong remonstrances from Napier." This from the counsellor of Napier, and the man who had written telling the worthy editor that Carlyle "might as well write in Irving's unknown tongue at once!" Macaulay's unfavourable estimate of Carlyle was not likely to be modified by the advice the latter gave to a friend who was in feeble health, and which somehow got into all the papers, to confine his reading to "the latest volume of Macaulay's History, or any other new novel." They met once at the same dinner table, when Carlyle was astonished by the fluent talk of the brilliant Whig orator, and wondered who he was; he remarked of him afterwards that he seemed "a decent sort of fellow, who looked as if he had been reared on oatmeal." It is worth while, by the way, comparing Carlyle's estimate of Leigh Hunt, to whom he had personally ministered for years, with that formed by Macaulay, as given in Mr Trevelyan's Life, ii. 476. The " "Cynic" of Chelsea contrasts favourably in this matter with the Whig historian, who, though of the same political colour as the struggling poet, seems to have been content to get his knowledge of Leigh Hunt and his difficulties at second hand.

The Problem of Sterling's Life.

259

expresses regret "that one who so keenly relished the exquisite trifling of Plato should never have tasted the description of Coleridge's talk in the Life of John Sterling, -a passage which yields to nothing of its own class in the Protagoras or the Symposium," and were the passage here so justly lauded, along with the vivid portrait of Sterling's father, the "Thunderer" of the Times, and a few other pieces of its drapery withdrawn from the book, it is to be feared that the volume would instantly be deposed from the high position in the esteem of the reading public which it now occupies. For one who goes to it that he may study the main subject of the work, a score, probably, are attracted by what we may term its subordinate features, and especially by the masterly delineations of Coleridge and that astonishing unsuccessful ex-farmer of Bute who found his niche at last, after many wanderings, in Printing House Square.

When we turn to the problem of Sterling's life, as it is unfolded by the biographer, the impression made is much less satisfactory. If the Archdeacon's biography was imperfect in one direction, Carlyle's is no less imperfect in another. In the former, as an able and by no means narrow-minded critic pointed out some years ago in the Christian Spectator, there are a host of Sterling's letters concerning such topics as the Divine Nature, Revelation, Moral Evil, the Evidences of Christianity, Miracles, and other matters on which it is generally thought important to have settled views. "But in one sentence Carlyle contemptuously dismisses all these discussions! They were immeasurable dust whirlwinds,' which while they lasted only blinded poor Sterling's eyes and made him miserable. It was not until he ceased to inquire into

these matters, got out of their range, acted as though the question had no interest for him, and dedicated himself to a 'life's work' of quite another description, that he could cheerfully hope and live. That life's work appears to have been the composition of divers elegant tales, sketches, feebler poetry already forgotten, and fierce criticism, which, however, will scarcely be remembered. Surely Sterling was living more nobly, when, in the very atmosphere of the questions scouted by Carlyle, he was devoting himself, under the guidance of his other friend, Mr Hare, to the bodies and spirits of men, as curate in a country parish." A reply to this may no doubt be suggested, to the effect that Sterling was out of his proper sphere altogether as a clergyman, and that the religious discussions referred to were shallow insincerities, from which nothing real could possibly come. Carlyle, it may be urged, saw in Sterling a reflection of himself, with this difference only, that Sterling being weaker, had gone on to the pulpit, for which he had no vocation at all, since "artist, not saint, was the real bent of his being;" hence the scorn that is poured, like lava, on the utterly untenable position which Sterling had endeavoured to occupy. This interpretation would lead to a more favourable estimate of the biography; but one other blot seems to have been hit by Dr Macleod Campbell, who confessed that, while there was certainly much in the book which had struck him as very beautiful, he had closed it with much more regret than admiration. To his friend Erskine of Linlathen he wrote: "It is very beautiful-most artistic. It has also the higher interest of making the man Carlyle more known to me, and as a brother man. Yet for all this I have scarcely ever, if ever, read a book that has cost me