390 PERSONAL RECOLLECTIONS OF 



them worth a trial, I mixed some brandy and water in 

 a tumbler, and placing a cigar between his fingers, 

 gave him a light. The vigour of his puffs astonished 

 me ; his strength as a smoker seemed unimpaired. 

 With the view of supporting him, I placed myself on 

 the sofa behind him. After a time, putting aside the 

 half-consumed cigar, he drank off the brandy-and- 

 water, and with a smile gleaming in his eye, 1 remarked 

 ' That's well over.' Soon afterwards he fell asleep. 

 Quietly relinquishing my position as pillow, I left him 

 in slumber. This, to the best of my recollection, was 

 the last time I saw Thomas Carlyle. 



The disintegration of the firm masonry went rapidly 

 on, and at length the noble tower fell. Carlyle died on 

 February 5, 1881. 



Immediately afterwards 1 was visited by Mr. Froude, 

 who came to inform me of the arrangements made for 

 the funeral. In touching language he described the 

 placid beauty of the dead man's face, contrasting it 

 with the stern grandeur of Mrs. Carlyle's countenance 

 in her last sleep. The brave and sympathetic Stanley 

 wished to have him in Westminster Abbey, but this 

 Carlyle had steadily declined. Troops of friends from all 

 accessible places would have reverently made their way 

 to the burial-ground of Ecclefechan, but it was thought 

 desirable to make the funeral as quiet and as simple as 

 possible. Lecky, Froude, and myself formed a small 

 delegation from London. We journeyed together north- 

 wards, halting at Carlisle for the night. Snow was on 



1 I think it was the late Mr. Donne who once remarked to me 

 that Carlyle's beard, by hiding the grimly-set mouth, greatly im- 

 proved his aspect. ' His eye was tender and sweet.' A comparison 

 of the frontispiece of Heroes and Hero- Worship with that of Sartor 

 Besartus (Library Editions) will illustrate Mr. Donne's meaning and 

 justify his observation. 



