The Portland daily press., 1883-04-30
s Cheyne Row, Chelsea,


ever, may be postponed TO next week. Indeed,
have neither long stories nor short ones TO
tell this morning. Tomorrow, after the tea
party, mey have more TO say, provided sur
yive II. Though how am to entertain, ION
my own basis, IL people In hot night with
out refrsshmentn Ito speak of IL more than /
see my way" through Even as to cups.
there are only 10 cups of company china; and
III are coming, myself making H. After ALL =
said Jessie, "you had once eight at tea--three
mair won't kill usi" I'm not so sure of that
Let us hope the motive will sanctify the end
being ''the welfare OF othersl" an nnselilsh de-
sire to make two beings happy"-Principal
Tulloeh and Froude who have a great liking
for one anotheri The Spottiswoodes were add
ed in the same philanthropic spirit. We met
in a shop and they begged permission TO come
again; SO thought 1t would be clever 10 get
them over handsomely with Froude and Mrs
OlphanD before you came. Miss Wynne Of
fered herself bpaccident for that same night,
THE FuLL TENDERNESS
of Carlyle's affection speaks out as he re-
calls the hours with his wife during the
Frederick the Great" time, aud remembers
her suiferings. Sadder and tenderer words
have seldom been written by mortal pen.
The picture must be given just as II came
from the man who wrote IL out of his heart:
"Of all these dreary suiferings and miseres
which had been steadily increasing for years
past. perceive now, with pain and remorse,
such her invincible spirit In bearing them,
such her constant effort to hide them from
me altogether. My own poor existence, as
she also well knew, was laden to the utmost
pitch OF strength, and sunk in perpetual
muddy darkness, by task too heavy for me
Ia task which seemed impossible, and as ii
II would end me instead of / it. / saw no
company, had no companion but my horse
IA miles day, winter time, mainly in the
dark rode ia all, as have sometimes count
ed, above $4,000 miles for health's sake,
while writing that unutterable book. The
one bright point in my day was from half an
| hour TO 20 minutes talking with her after
| my return from those thrice dismal rides,
while sat smoking Ton the hearthrug, with
my back to the jamh, putting firewards-a
rare lnvenuonl and slipping spoonful OF
brandy in waser, preparatory to the hour Of
sleep had before dinner. She, too, the dear
and noble soul. seemed to feel that this was
the eye of her day, the flower Of all her daily
endeavor In the world. found her often.
est stretched on the sofa (close at my right
hand, between her and the firel, her draw
ing-room and self all in the gracefulest and
most perfect order, and waiting with such
welcome; alb, mel alb, mel She was weak,
weak, far weaker than | understood; but to
me was bright always as stars and diamonds;
nay, should say a kind of CHEEKY sunshine
III those otherwise Egyptian days. She
HAD ALWAYS SOMETHING CHEERFUL
to tell me of Especially if she had been out,
or had had yisitorsl, generally somethi
quite pretty TO report lin her sprlghtly, quiet
and ever-genial wayl. At lowest, nothing
unpleasant was ever heard from her; all that
was gloomy she was silant upon, and had
strictly hidden away. Once, i remember,
| years before this, while she suffered under
one OF her bad infnenzas little known to
me how badl, came to her for three sue
cessiye evenings full of the Battle Of Mol
WITT (which had at last got TO understand,
| much TO my inward triumph), and talked to
| her all OF my half hour about nothing else
She answered little t'speaking not good for
| me, perhapsl; but gave no sign OF want of
lnterest-nay, perhaps did not quite want
| 1t, and yet confessed to me, several years af-
terward, her principal thought was, Alas,
| shall never see this come to print; am has
| teping toward death insteadr These were,
| indeed, dark days for us both, and still dark
| er, unknown to as, were at hand
Her appreciation of her husbands writ
| ings crops out in this delicious morsel of
| criticism, written while Frederick the
| Great was still Incomplete, and of which
| Carlyle says that, Except small patch of
| writing by Emerson, this is the only BIT of
human criticism in which across the general
exaggeration. | could discover real Inca
\ A1NAtS ~ VIC AblASs fCt1 iutiuUiaUAt WIS
| this OF her TO me, and will forever be:
Oh. my dear. What a magnificent book this
is going TO be! The best OF all your books. /
say so, who never hatier, as you are too well
aware; and who am "the only person | know
that 10 always in the right So far as il Is
here before me, find il forcible and vivid.
and sparkling as The French Revolution
With the geniality and composare and finish OF
Cromwell wonderful combination Of met-
its! And how you have eontrived TO fit togeth-
or all those different sorts OF pictures, belong
Ing g alisssps & sorts . o. TINS q
Really, one may say, OF these Two first books at
least what Helen said OF the letters OF her SIS
| ter who ded-you remember?-'S0 splendidly
| put together would have thought that
hand couldn't have written them .!
CARLYLE not only lacked the little graces
and attentions that women prize, and was
likely TO treat woman with no more con-
sideration than he would give to male
companion, out he had Scotch hardness
| and brusqueness, inherited as we'll as Guilt
yaied. The fact that Carlyle never gave his
| wife a present, or minded the HOLIDAYS and
birthdays that were dear to her, was due not
| to the want of love but to his Scotch train
| ing. Undoubtedly the feminine heart hun
| gered for such courtesies and evidences of
fondness. There Is something pitiful In her
| letter to Sterling: Son opening your lester
| the other day and beholding the little FEM
| mime contrivanee' inside, | suddenly and
| unaccountably fell a-crying as If | had gained
| loss. do not know what of tender and
| sad and 'unspeakable' there lay for my i'm
| agination in that lace article, folded up, un-
| skillfully enough by mans fingers-yoar FIN
| gers; and wrapped around by kind written
| words. But so it was, / wept; and IL this
| was not receiving your remembrance in the
| proper way. beg Of you to read me no lee
| ture on the subject; for your lectures are
| hateful to me beyond expression, and their
| only practical result is TO strengthen me in
| my own course
| 1t never had occurred to CARLYLE that
woman needed such thinrs, but when il did
he began to make her birthday presents, Sc
lecting them no doubt with his original awk-
| wardness, aud continued them as long as he
lived. In July, 1874, she writes to him from
Seaforth -"Oh, my darling, | want to give
yon an emphatic kiss rather than to writel
But you are at Chelsea and at Seaforth SO
the thing IS clearly impossible for the mo-
ment. But will keep 1t for you till come,
for IL is not.with words that can thank you
adequately for that Kiudest of birthday letters
and its small misunderstanding little key!
cried over IL and laughed over it, and could
not sufficiently admire the graceful idea-an
idea which might come under the category
OF what Cavaignac used to call id6es de
femme, supposed to be unattainable by the
eoarser sex! And hove put the little key
to my chain and shall wear it there till re-
turn" Again, in 1916, at Seaforth, disap-
| pointed in not receiving the usual birthday
| letter, she wrote: 81 did not burst out cry
| ing, did not faint--did not do anything alb.
| surd so far as | know; but walked back
| from the post ofiice) without saying a word;
and with such tumult Of wretchednessin
my heart as you who know me can conceive.
And then shut myself In my own room to
fancy everything that was most tormenting.
We're you, finally, so out Of patience with
me that you had resolved TO write to me no
more at all? Had you gone to Addiscombe,
and found no leisure there TO remember my
existence? Were you taken Ill, SO i'll that
you could not write? That last idea made
me mad to get off to the railway and back to
London. Oh, mercy, what a two hours
had of I'll [Oh, my darling little woman"
is Carlyle's MOTEL And just when was at
my wits end, heard Julia crying out
through the house, MRS. Carlyle, Mrs. Car
lylel Are you there? HIRE is a letter for
you.' AID SO there was after ALL won
der what love letter was ever received with
such thankfulness! Obi my dearl | am
not fit for living in the world with this or
ganization. l am as much broken to pieces
I