72 FRESH FIELDS 



the publication of the Kemiiiiscences, the number 

 of silly geese that came there to crop the grass was 

 much fewer. No real lover of Carlyle was ever 

 disturbed by those Reminiscences ; but to the throng 

 that run after a man because he is famous, and that 

 chip his headstone or carry away the turf above him 

 when he is dead, they were happily a great bugaboo. 

 A most agreeable walk I took one day down to 

 Annan. Irving's name still exists there, but I 

 believe all his near kindred have disappeared. 

 Across the street from the little house where he 

 was born this sign may be seen: "Edward Irving, 

 Flesher." While in Glasgow, I visited Irving's 

 grave, in the crypt of the cathedral, a most dismal 

 place, and was touched to see the bronze tablet that 

 marked its site in the pavement bright and shining, 

 while those about it, of Sir this or Lady that, were 

 dull and tarnished. Did some devoted hand keep 

 it scoured, or was the polishing done by the many 

 feet that paused thoughtfully above this name? 

 Irving would long since have been forgotten by the 

 world had it not been for his connection with Car- 

 lyle, and it was probably the lustre of the latter's 

 memory that I saw reflected in the metal that bore 

 Irving's name. The two men must have been of 

 kindred genius in many ways, to have been so 

 drawn to each other, but Irving had far less hold 

 upon reality; his written word has no projectile 

 force. It makes a vast difference whether you burn 

 gunpowder on a shovel or in a gun-barrel. Irving 

 may be said to have made a brilliant flash, and then 

 to have disappeared in the smoke. 



