cover if his leg was stitched together, dog. A few Sundays ago the shepherd and kindly offered to do it. Knowing found one of the lambs ill. He came that this would be very painful, two of some distance to my house to procure the men went into the surgery to hold medicine. After mixing and pouring it the dog during the operation, but into a bottle in the presence of the dog,

a “Gyle" needed no such assistance. we started for the field, but long before Immediately on being told he laid him- we were near the field, or even apparently self down, and quietly closing his eyes going to it, the dog started away, and never moved or uttered a sound. A taking the nearest cut to it through a fortnight afterward the stitches broke wood, we saw him going straight to the away, and the shepherd sewed it up again lamb, and he laid down beside it, and without any assistance whatever.

waited our arrival.

D. W. Here is another anecdote of the same

Leisure Hour.


There can be no doubt as to the per. ing as the few pages devoted to the manent vitality of this book, or of the memory of James Carlyle. Carlyle careless genius which produced it after speaks of himself, with a certain dignithis random fashion, at an age when Car- fied pride, as 'the humble James CarTyle was looking back upon a long and lyle's work ;” and no doubt there was laborious life. But there may be, we much of the father in the son, though think, much doubt as to the manner in the stern, taciturn conciseness of the which Mr. Froude has exercised the ab- father was blended in the son with the solute discretion intrusted to him by artistic restlessness and discontent, which Carlyle as to the use he should make of seek relief in words and cannot hold the these reminiscences. We do not think mouth, as it were, with a bridle, though that Carlyle, with his great pride and it were pain and grief to do so. Here his deep reserve, would ever have ap- you see Carlyle's rich intellectual inproved of the inclusion in this book of heritance plainly enough : all the constant references to his wife,

“None of us will ever forget that bold glowing and to his love for her, poured out with style of his, flowing free from his untutored the freedom of a diarist, though of a soul, full of metaphors (though he knew not diarist who has formed for himself that what a metaphor was) with all manner of potent semi-artificial manner which suggests a

words which he appropriated and applied with

a surprising accuracy you often would not consciousness of audience. The rhapso- guess whence-briel, energetic, and which I dies on his “noblest," " queenliest,” should say conveyed the most perfect picture, beautifullest,” and so forth, natural definite, clear, not in ambitious colors but in

full white sunlight, of all the dialects I have enough to the old man in his desolation,

ever listened to. Nothing did I ever hear him should not, in our estimation, have been

undertake to render visible which did not be. given to the world as they were written. come almost ocularly so. Never shall we What is the proper sphere of privacy, again hear such speech as that was. The if the half-remorseful self-reproaches of

whole district knew of it, and laughed joyfully

over it, not knowing how otherwise to express the tenderest love, accusing itself of in

the feeling it gave them; emphatic I have adequacy, are to be made public to all heard him beyond all men. In anger he had the world?

no need of oaths, his words were like sharp We have said so much elsewhere on arrows that smote into the very heart. The the morose aspect of these graphic I also inherit). yet only in description, and for

fault was that he exaggerated (which tendency " Reminiscences, that we shall deal

the sake chicily of humorous effect. He was a here only with the pleasanter and more man of rigid, even scrupulous, veracity. I brilliant characteristics of the book. have often heard him turn back when he And nothing contained in it is so affect- thought his strong words were misleading, and

correct them into mensurative accuracy.' *“Reminiscences by Thomas Carlyle."

All these qualities reappeared in Thomas Edited by James Anthony Froude. Two vols. New York: Charles Scribner's Sons ; Harper

Carlyle, even to the last feature--the & Brothers.

compunctious withdrawal of something

[ocr errors]

which had overshot the mark, though the strong peasant from whom Carlyle often in Thomas Carlyle's case so reluc- was so justly proud to be descended, is tant a withdrawal that the withdrawal his sketch of the light literary men of failed of its effect. But then Carlyle the world, whom he felt (sometimes ungoes on to paint in his father a charac- justly) to be writers and nothing more. ieristic which he had absolutely failed to Take, for instance, a bitter, but we supinherit-nay, he had even fallen into pose substantially true, account of De something like an excess of the very Quincey, though it seems to us clear weakness from which he declares his that Carlyle did not sufficiently apprecifather so completely free :

ate that vivid seeing power in De Quincey “A virtue he had which I should learn to

which was his own greatest literary imitate. He never spoke of what was disagree strength : able and past. I have often wondered and admired at this. The thing that he had nothing Jemmy Belcher was a smirking little to do with he did nothing with. His was a dumpy Unitarian bookseller in the Bull-ring, healthy mind. In like manner I have seen regarded as a kind of curiosity and favorite him always when we young ones, half roguisho among these people, and had seen me. One ly, and provokingly without doubt, were per showery day I had took shelter in his shop : haps repeating sayings of his, sit as if he did picked up a new magazine, found in it a clevernot hear us at all. Never once did I know him ish and completely hostile criticism of my utter a word, only once, that I remember, give 'Wilhelm Meister,' of my Goethe, and self, a look in such a case. Another virtue the ex etc., read it faithfully to the end, and have ample of which has passed strongly into me never set eye on it since. On stepping out my was his settled placid indifference to the bad spirits did not feel much elevated by the clamors or the murmurs of public opinion. dose just swallowed, but I thought with myself, For the judgment of those that had no right or * This man is perhaps right on some points ; if power to judge him, he seemed simply to care so, let him be admonitory !' And he was so nothing at all. He very rarely spoke of de- (on a Scotticism, or perhaps two); and I did spising such things. He contented himself with reasonably soon in not above a couple of altogether disregarding them. Hollow babble hours), dismiss him to the devil, or to Jericho, it was for him, a thing, as Fichte said, that did as an ill-given, unserviceable kind of entity in not exist ; das gar nicht existirte. There was my course through this world. It was De something truly great in this. The very perfec. Quincey, as I often enough heard afterward tion of it hid from you the extent of the attain- from foolish-talking persons. "What matter meni.

who, ye foolish talking persons ?' would have

been my silent answer, it generally Carlyle, on the cor.trary, loved, like pretty much was. I recollect, too, how in Hamlet, to “unpack his soul” with Edinburgh a year or two after, poor De words, even when, like Hamlet, he was Quincey, whom I wished to know, was

ported to tremble at the thought of such profuse in his self-reproaches for the re

a thing ; and did fiy pale as ashes, poor little lief which that unpacking of his soul cer- soul, the first time we actually met.

He was a tainly gave him. But even as regards pretty little creature, full of wire-drawn inthis different temperament of the two genuities, bankrupt enthusiasms. bankrupt men, it is clear that the father had som pride, with the finest silver-toned low voice,

and most elaborate gently-winding courtething of that high-pressure of emotion in sies and ingenuities in conversation. What him which gave the literary writer his wouldn't one give to have him in a box and motive-power :

take him out to talk !' That was Her criticism

of him, and it was right good. A bright, ready. I have often seen him weep, too ; his voice

and melodious talker, but in the end an inconwould thicken and his lips curve while reading clusive and long-winded. One of the smallest the Bible. He had a merciful heart to real dis

man figures I ever saw ; shaped like a pair of tress, though he hated idleness, and for imbe

tongs, and hardly above five feet in all. When cility and fatuity had no tolerance. Once-and

he sate, you would have taken him, by candleI think once only--I saw him in a passion of light, for the beautifullest little child ; bluetears. It was when the remains of my eyed, sparkling face, had there not been a mother's fever hung upon her, in 1817, and something, too, which said ' Eccovi--this child seemed to threaten the extinction of her rea

has been in hell.' Alter leaving Edinburgh I We were all of us nigh desperate, and

never saw him, hardly ever heard of him. His ourselves mad. He burst at last into quite a

fate, owing to opium, etc., was hard and sore, torrent of grief, cried pitcously, and threw him

poor fine-strung weak creature, launched so self on the floor and lay moaning. I wondered,

into the literary career of ambition and mother and had no words, no tears. It was as if a rock

of dead dogs. of granite had melted, and was thawing into

What unknown seas of feeling lie in The graphic force shown in single senman,and will from time to time break thruugh!"

tences - frequently representative only In painful contrast to this sketch of of what Carlyle himself discerned, not





of the reality behind what he discerned, punctuality, flung himself out into the rain but still most telling, as showing what

again in momentary indignant puff, and strode

away for Stirling, where we next saw him after his quick eye first lit upon-is extraor

four or five hours. I remember the squalor of dinary. Thus he describes John Stuart

our bedroom in the dim, rainy light, and how Mill's talk as rather wintry” and little we cared for it in our opulence of youth. “sawdustish,' but“ always well-in

The sight of giant Irving in a shortish shirt on formed and sincere." A great social

the sanded floor, drinking patienily a large

iankard of 'penny whaup' (the smallest beer in entertainer of those times—Lady Hol

creation) before beginning to dress, is still land-he dashes off as “a kind of hun- present to me as comic. Of sublime or tragic, gry, ornamented witch, looking over at the night before a mysterious great red glow is

much more memorable, which had long hung me with merely carnivorous views''

before us in the murky sky, growing gradually views, we suppose, as to what she could brighter and bigger, till at last we found it must make of him from the entertainer's be Carron Ironworks, on the other side of point of view; and he describes a Forth, one of the most impressive sights. Our speech of the Duke of Wellington's on march to Stirling was under pouring rain for Lord Ellenborough's "Gates of Sorn

most part, but I recollect enjoying the romance

of it ; Kincardine, Culross (Cu'ros), Clacknauth,” as “ a speech of the most hag

mannan, here they are then ; what a wonder gly, hawky, pinched, and meagre kind, to be here! The Links of Forth, the chills, so far as utterance and eloquence went,

Grampians, Forth itself, Stirling, lion-shaped, but potent for conviction beyond any

ahead, like a lion couchant with the castle for

his crown: all this was beautiful in spite of other." No wonder that Irving, who

rain. Welcome too was the inside of Stirling, knew Carlyle so intimately, said of him with its fine warm inn and the excellent refec. to Henry Drummond that “few have

· few have tion and thorough drying and refitting we got such eyes.' Even in describing scenes

there, Fiers and Brown looking pleasantly on. or incidents, the old man's language --Stirling all washed) till we marched for

Strolling and sight-seeing (day now very fine beats in vividness the most vivid of our

Doune in the evening (Brig of Teith, 'blue modern describers. He dashes off a and arrowy Teith,' Irving an I took that by. slight walking tour with Irving, with all way in the dusk); breakfast in Callander next its joyous hilarity, in lines so clear and morning, and get to Loch Katrine in an hour

I have not been in that region strong that we seem to have been with again till August last year, four days of mag; him in his youth :

nificently perfect hospitality with Stirling of

Keir. Almost surprising how mournful it was In vacation time, twice over, I made a to look on this picture and on that' at interwalking tour with him. First time I think was

val of fifty years.' to the Trosachs, and home by Loch Lomond, Greenock, Glasgow, etc., many parts of which

But perhaps the most telling miniature are still visible to me. The party generally in these “Reminiscences" is that of was to be of four; one Piers, who was Irving's Jeffrey acting to Mrs. Carlyle and himhousemate or even landlord, schoolmaster of self the various kinds of orators, “the Abbotshall, i.e., of 'The Links,' at the south

“the ponderous ern extra-burghal part of Kirkcaldy, a cheerful windy.grandiloquent," scatterbrained creature who went últimately as stupid, the airy stupid,” and finally, preacher or professor of something to the Cape the abstruse costive, who is thus deof Good Hope, and one Brown (James Brown), lineated : who had succeeded Irving in Haddington, and was now tutor somewhere. The full rally was At length he gave us the abstruse costive not to be till Stirling ; even Piers was gone specimen, which had a meaning and no utter. ahead ; and Irving and I, after an official din- ance for it, but went about clambering, stumner with the burghal dignitaries of Kirkcaldy, bling, as on a path of loose boulders, and ended who strove to be pleasant, set out together one in total downbreak, amid peals of the heartiest gray August evening by Forth sands toward laughter from us all. This of the aerial little Torryburn. Piers was to have beds ready for sprite standing there in fatal collapse, with the us there, and we cheerily walked along our brightest of eyes sternly gazing into utter mostly dark and intricate twenty-two miles. nothingness and dumbness, was one of the But Piers had nothing serviceably ready; we most tickling and genially ludicrous things I could not even discover Piers at that dead hour ever saw ; and it preitily winded up our little (2 A.M.), and had a good deal of groping and ad- drama. Í often thought of it afterward, and of venturing before a poor inn opened to us with what a part mimicry plays among human gists." two coarse, clean beds in it, in which we instantly fell asleep. Piers did in person rouse What is rather remarkable in a man us next morning about six, but we concord- of Carlyle's birth, there seems to have antly met him with mere ha-ha's! and inarticulate hootings of satirical rebuke, to such extent

been an intolerable fastidiousness about that l'iers, convicted of nothing but heroic him, not only in relation to people, but

or two more.

to sounds and sights, which must, we very great, too, in industry, quite indesuppose, be ascribed to the artistic vein fatigable in small painstakings, whenever in his temperament. He says quite he thought that the task to which he had frankly : “In short, as has been devoted himself was worthy of him. enough indicated elsewhere, I was ad- But he was far from great, even weak in vancing toward huge instalments of judgment; far from great, even narrow bodily and spiritual wretchedness in in sympathy; far from great, eren purthis my Edinburgh purgatory; and had blind in his appreciation of the importo clean and purify myself in penal fire tance to be attached to the various of various kinds for several years com- mechanism of human life. It is singular ing; the first, and much the worst, two that one who manifested his genius or three of which were to be enacted in chiefly by history-or should we rather this once-loved city. Horrible to think say, by his insight into and delineation of in part even yet! The bodily part of of some of the most critical characters them was a kind of base agony (arising in history, and some of the most vivid mainly in the want of any extant or dis- popular scenes in history ?-should have coverable fence between my coarser fel- been so totally devoid of what we may low-creatures and my more sensitive call the true historical sense—the appreself), and might and could easily (had ciation, we mean, of the inherited conthe age been pious or thoughtful) have ditions and ineradicable habits of ordibeen spared a poor creature like me. nary national life. There was something Those hideous disturbances to sleep, of the historical Don Quixote about etc., a very little real care and goodness Carlyle ; he tilted at windmills, and did might prevent all that ; and I look back not know that he was tilting at windupon it still with a kind of angry pro mills. He had so deep an appreciation test, and would have my successors of the vivid flashes of consciousness saved from it.” And in a later page which mark all great popular crises, behe adds his confession that he liked, on cause they mark all great personal the whole, social converse with the aris- crises, that he wanted to raise all hutocracy best : “ Certain of the aris- man life and all common popular life tocracy, however, did seem to me still to the level of the high self-convery noble ; and, with due limitation of scious stage. He never thoroughly apthe grossly worthless (none of whom preciated the meaning of habit. He had we to do with), I should vote at never thoroughly understood the value present that, of classes known to me in of routine. He never adequately enEngland, the aristocracy (with its per- tered into the power of tradition. He fection of human politeness, its con- judged of human life as if will and emotinual grace of bearing and of acting, tion were all in all. He judged of politsteadfast 'honor,' light address and ical life as if great men and great occacheery stoicism), if you see well into it, sions ought to be all in all, and was is actually yet the best of English furious at the waste of force involved in classes.” That is a very curious testi- doing things as men had been accusmony to the effect of Carlyle's artistic tomed to do thern, wherever that apfeeling in modifying his own teaching as peared to be a partially ineffectual way. to “ the gospel of work.” It was not And his error in judging of peoples is the gospel of work which had made equally traceable in his judgments on ineven the noblest of the aristocracy what dividuals. If a man had a strong interthey were.

est in the routine and detail of life, he After reading these “ Reminiscences," called him " sawdustish."

“ If he had a one cannot but ask one's self in what re- profound belief in any popular ideas bespect was Carlyle really a great man, and yond those acknowledged by himself, where did he fall short of true greatness ? Carlyle probably called him moonshiny. We should say that he was really great Such men as John Mill came under the in imagination-very great in insight one condemnation, such men as Mazzini into the more expressive side of human under the other. And yet either John character-great in Scotch humor, though Mill or Mazzini may be said to have aputterly unable to appreciate the lighter plied a more effectual knowledge of men kinds of true humor, like Lamb's-and to the historical conditions of their own time than Thomas Carlyle. Indeed, sions, and Carlyle's insight seems to once go beyond the world of the vivid have been very limited, and his genius personal and popular emotions and pas- disappears. — The Spectator.


CLING close, my child !
For thou and I are one together,
In winter's cold, or summer weather,
Or when the sheaves are piled.

Or in bright spring;
As yet of care thou nothing knowest-
Naught of the ills that, as thou growest,
The years may bring.
Enough for thee
To bask in sunlight, and to wander
Amongst the flowers, whilst I ponder
On vanished glee.

Yet care must come,
And thou too mayst be sad and lonely,
With memories for thy solace only
Of loved lips dumb.

Pulse of my soul !
Yet, having thee, still lack I him
Who waits me in the twilight dim
At that far goal.

Mayst thou ne'er tell
The ache of living here bereft
Of life's chief bliss! Yet thou art left,
And so 'tis well !

Belgruvia Magazine.


The English Poets. Selections, with Criti- foundest sympathy with English poetry have

cal Introductions by Various Writers, and a been invited to set forth and illustrate the claims general Introduction by Matthew Arnold.

and qualities of the particular poets with whose Edited by Thornas Humphrey Ward, M.A. Four Volumes. London and New York :

work they are most familiar. “It is imposMacmillan & Co.

sible," says the editor in his preface, “that a

selection of this kind should be really well The plan of this anthology is the same as done, should be done with an approach to that upon which so many scientific, historical, finality, if it is the work of one critic alone. and biographical “series” have recently been the history of English poetry is so wide, its prepared—the plan, namely, of assigning each various sections or stages have become the obbranch or subject to some one who has shown jects of so special a study, that a book which hiinself especially competent to deal with it. aims at selecting the best from the whole field, Under the general editorial supervision of Mr. and pronouncing its judgments with some de. Ward, and with Mr. Matthew Arnold to strike gree of authority, must not be the work of one the key.note, as it were, of the resultant har- writer, but of many." monies, those critics and students who have The editor himself has dealt with Chaucer, exhibited the widest acquaintance and pro- James I. of Scotland, Watson, Barnfield, the

« VorigeDoorgaan »