Morning journal and courier. [volume] (New Haven [Conn.]) 1848-1894, 1883-05-26
Mrs. CARLYLE.

| IMrS. Ollphant, IN the contemporary heV1eW.l
s'Those who live in glass houses, =" says thu
proverb, "should not throw stones" We d(
| not make proverbs in the nineteenth century
| but the temper of the age is such that We
might well add to that Injunction of expert
| ence, and beg for the sake of humanity tha
| those who have thrown stones with muct
| efficacy and force in their lifetime should
| make some arrangement before their deatl
| by which their executors and assignees
should be prevented from placing horrible
palace of glass over their bones, at which
every conner may be free to send volley in
his turn. The Carlyles-he in public, she in
| private-had deep rolling, universally eff &c
tive artillery of their own, and used it with
out sparing, with many a resounding dis
charge and sharp ping, of individual criticism
character, humor, dyspepsia, nerves, and
perhaps nationality, having given to both of
them propensity to use sharp language, and
speak forth, more freely than is usual, their
opinion of their fellow creatures. And per-
haps it is not unjust, as human justice goes,
that there should have been reserved for
these two people fate which would be rue
fully comic, if it were not tragical. An ex-
posure almost unexampled in the range of
literature, of everything about them-their
most private thoughts and feelings, their
quarrels, faults, compunctions, their uneasy
tempers, and unsatisfed and unsatisfable
wishes-all set forth in q sort of pale electric
light, SO that every man he ever grazed, and
all the multitudes who gaped at him, and
who are always glad to find out that the
preacher before whom they are forced to
tremble is after all faulty mortal like them
selves, might fling and spare not. This man,
and the helpmeet most meet for him, whose
entire life has been turned outside in for our
edification, were of natures such as bear i'll to
be exposed to unfriendly eyes. They were
both of the ordsr of those sword-like souls
that wear out the scabbard. Life went on
for them under very strange conditions
They we're both entirely without that natural
greatcoat, nay. wall of defense, the tough
skin with which most of US are endowed by
nature. They had no skin to speak of upon
their quivering nerves; they were full of
cranks and whims and endless susceptibilities;
they were without the wholesome balance of
natural cares-without children any do
nestle argument against self-analysis and
examination without, too Though they were
unconscious of their exemption-sorrows, or
real misfortunes, to bring them to the solid
footing of humanity. OF all people in the
world to be exposed to more than nakedness
to the common gaze, every crevice and cor
ner of their house turned outside in, and the
fiercest lime light, magnesium wire-what-
ever is most scathing and unsympathetic-a
glare that would have driven them frantic,
poured down upon them, they were the very
last. And yet who shall say the last Which
of us could bear that pitiless revelation? To
have all the secrets of our closest relation
ships laid bare, all the hasty words we have
ever said, and repented, of those most dear
to US all the complaints and repinings that
have burst from our lips when the burdens
of life have been too many for us-al set
forth that he who runs may read which of
us could bear it? Let him, or her, who has
never been anything but amiable and just,
never said an ill-advised word, never in
dulged bitter thought, never fancied him
or herself-neglected, unappreciated, unloved,
throw the first stone at the Carlyles Rut
for us and others who have by turns thought
ourselves better than our fatei who have
quarreled and kissed again with tears, who
have said hundred things We would rather
have left unsaid, who have sometimes called
on heaven and earth to witness that the sun
for us would never shine again. yet lived to
see him as bright asaeyer-let as be thankful
we are common persons, too little distin-
puished from the crowd to make our history
important to the world, and not worth the
while Of any biographer of genius who might
construct our lives into a tragedy, and betray
every secret of our existence for the instruc-
ton of mankind.