Clarksville weekly chronicle. (Clarksville, Tenn.) 1873-1890, 1885-05-02
A STUDY.


4 -
TO the chronielei
/ have lived In close communio
this winter with my friend Mrs Cal
lyle, and that | have profted by tn
companionship there is no doubt. j
thoughtful pernsal OF her letters, an,
of her husbands "reminiscences" ha
given me clear, If not satisfied in
sight into their home life. In recen
conversation with friend who alst
appreciates Mrs. Carlyle, she yenturec
this suggestion: ado not you thinl
she wrote them with view to publ
cation y No." / instantly replied
nothing could be more unstudied OF
more openly artless."
Could Jane Welsh CARLYLE have
known that in 1888 her letters would
be given to the world, the innate pride
so strong Il factor in an unusually
strong nature would have skillfully
and effectually have drawn rose-col-
ored vail around that stormy Chelsea
life. The North American Review, OF
either November or December, pro-
duced a caustic article entitled GNei-
ther Martyr nor Genius" in which
Mrs. Carlyle was roughly dissected.
Shakespeare says, @Ohi what world
is this. when what is comely envenoms
him that bears it," That is the key to
the writer's motive who conceived
Neither Martyr nor Genius" She
probably has attempted through print
to gain literary pre-eminence. My
friend tried not at all; still, seventeen
years after she had lain and mouldered
in the Kirk at Haddington her wit
and brilliancy flushed on the world in
simple, domestic correspondence.
Came as Sd many sermons to faint
hearted women, who think to yield to
the burden, and let the world help
itself. have delayed any thorough
study of Carlyle's works, up to this
time, choosing to begin at his humble
birth, and know the man before know
ing his creations. Through him |
came to know and love Jeanie Welsh
So have followed them them with a
woman's sympathy keenly awake,
fascinated. sometimes griev-
Ell, and ofttimes indignant. l believe
history does record some perfect mar
riages, some true union of souls. But
ih, brought forth into this world,
thrown carelessly together us dice, the
most distressing mesalliances follow
too surely. That Miss Welsh WAS en-
of her learned, country-brcd /
over, even Mr.. Froude, in his kin4, t
innotations, gives no evidence.
She promised TO marry him in the
that she was connecting
herself with man who was destined
o become brilliantly distinguished
And in this conviction she arayed
herself against the world No one else
hought that this dyspectic, gloomy
cholar would prove himself to be the I
,reatest thinker of the nineteenth !,
entury. In the quiet atmosphere !
# a Scotch provincial town she grew 1
Ip. The only child OF prosperous
octor. Even in her youth her extra {
intellect attracted attention.
But with years came added graees, and c
er gifts were as universal as they Il
Tere superior. Beautiful with a GER I
ain star like beauty, she came to be c
nown as the flower of Haddington. i
Vas it not the most natural thing in c
II of Gods beautiful creation of lu- t
IAN nature, that she should love Ed v
ard Irving? Her handsome, talented f
University teacher And she did truly. II
) she loved none other, and ~ frankly I
to Mr.. Carlyle. The first y
,rong love Of her youth having sunk +
ITO hOpelessness, -all tender feelings q
semed turned into the hard world of c
that was to work for her so J.
wing a life. CARLYLE once said to her
Literature is the wine of life" and
ne believed it to he the one thing
orth pursuing since love was gone
o common mortal could have con-
sived the life she SO dispassiOnately II
lanned, and So stoically endured.
Il of |
le young woman. Her talented cous- 4
/, the Doctor ut Leeds, who unhesi-
tingly pronounced her the most g
of her sex; the stammering, 81
rospernus Englishman-the enthusi- q
tic young George Rennio. But she y y
lrned from them all for the sake of !,
snius. Seven years of farm life on 81
nely Scotch moor could have been c1
othing less than punishment to del q :,
ate, sensitive literary-society woman. n
ct she murmured not To her trust C,
ne she walked by the side of the tt
Philosopher, and screened him from u
1ysical inconveniences while he NJ
enned the startling and original true al
ms so noticeable in his works. In al
tile poem she once sent to Lord "
effrey, along with some rose leaves NJ
e feel rather than see, the weary b.
'irit. 1t is written on swallow build ii
e under their caves. The verses, IL
ven in number, and each one gem, ~
ks in the beginning why he chose tn
is place to build, and then in sweet ri
measure runs on q, a
or thou hast passed fair places in thy il
flight, -
world lay all beneath thee where to light tr
And strange thy taste, "
all the varied scenes that met thine eye, -
all the spots for building meath the sky, ef
To choose this waste! III
d fortune try theee Was thy little purse 7,
run low, and thou afraid of Worse m
Felt here secure sll
thou need'st not gold, thou happy one, -
on kn.west It not a. an Gods ofaatpres, "
Man alone is poor,H u
Her wit, when directed to her own NJ
rd lot, was always most noticeable. sii
ice in writing to Mr.. Carlyle's moth W. ~,
at Scotsbrig, she tells her of an old *
yer, just returned from India, who if
: more thousands of pounds than y
ey can ever nope TO have hundreds. -