THOMAS CARLYLE. 379 



this was an error. From my own direct questionings I 

 had learned that the feelings of the old man were those 

 of gratitude rather than of dislike. At a time when 

 his own countrymen, failing to recognise his need of a 

 form of expression suited to his genius, had set him 

 down as merely eccentric and wayward meting out to 

 him the wages of eccentricity and waywardness, and 

 describing the work in which he had invested his highest 

 faculty as " a heap of clotted nonsense " America, 

 through her noblest son, had opened to him her mind, 

 her heart, her purse. Still, to make assurance doubly 

 sure, I told Grant-Duff that I would go down to Chelsea 

 and make myself acquainted with Carlyle's present 

 feelings. I went, and mentioned this conjectural dis- 

 like of Americans. " What nonsense ! " he exclaimed ; 

 "bring him down here immediately." The gentleman 

 here referred to was, and is, Mr. Charles Norton, of 

 Harvard College. He came to Carlyle, and his visit 

 was the starting-point of a friendship which proved its 

 steadfastness after Carlyle was dead and gone. With 

 chivalrous firmness of purpose Mr. Norton has sought, 

 and I am told successfully sought, to stem and roll 

 back the foul wave of detraction and abuse, whereby 

 inconsiderate England threatened to overwhelm the 

 memory of a man to whom her best and bravest owe a 

 debt never to be cancelled. On this sad subject, how- 

 ever, it is not my intention to dwell; but many 

 patriotic men regard it as a calamity of unspeakable 

 magnitude, that Carlyle's opinions on the grave ques- 

 tions which now agitate us should be reduced to nullity. 

 Were he amongst us he could point for our instruction 

 to certain apposite phases of the French Eevolution, 

 which he incomparable limner that he was ! has 

 thrown upon the canvas of History. The manifold 



coiling of fraternal arms; the friendships sworn and 

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