375 



Amid mucli that is entirely rechercJie, and difficult to read, I 

 would point out men and scenes in Carlyle's Frederick the Great, of 

 this vivid and dramatic character. Frederick William and the 

 Crown Prince are as masterly portraits as any within the range of 

 historic representation. 



To complete, and not to derange the symmetry of this beautiful 

 and illustrious life, death came at last. His great work finished ; 

 his greatness, which had been achieved in an age of greatness, the 

 age of Scott, of Rogers, of Bj-ron, of 3Ioore, of Hallam, thus consum- 

 mated and sealed; the cosmos of his literary creation, adjusted and 

 equipoised; his old age green and happy, he awaited the signal of 

 its approach. Nor did temporal things, as fortunate and pleasant as 

 they were to him, veil the glories and the priceless value of an 

 eternal inheritance. He looked for an unfading crown, when that 

 of earthly laurel and myrtle should hang fading upon his tomb. He 

 had not long to wait ; there was no lingering of disease : Euthanasia, 

 the dark angel with silver light upon his wings, gave but one 

 gentle touch like the hand of sleep, and he had departed to a better 

 country, "even a heavenly." The artist had gone to render a happy 

 account to the Great Master. 



An artist, in the noblest sense of that word, he claims the poet's 

 eulogy. 



Emigravit is the inscription on the tombstone where he lies : — 

 Dead he is not, but departed, for the artist never dies. 



This departure took place on the 28th November, 1859. 



There is no cause to mourn : to his immediate friends, of whose 

 circle he was the chief ornament, it is, indeed, an irreparable loss : 

 to the great world he lives still and ever in his beautiful works. 



A few remarks as to his character, his influence, and his rank, 

 must conclude this humble notice. 



To say that Irving, as a writer, belongs to the old regime, that he 

 is like Addison, may now seem like faint praise ; for we live in a 

 day of increasing intellectual activity, a day when many minds edu- 

 cated and strengthened by the accumulations of knowledge and the 

 conflict of opinions, subsidize all learning and all knowledge, and 

 send it forth condensed through the columns of a myriad press. 



But who is there among us who cannot go back to the time when 

 Addison, long dead, still ruled the world of letters ? when he 

 was the model of an English style. I remember well being often 

 told so, in the sententious words of Dr. Johnson, now sounding 



